Kyo Kara Maoh: I Belong to You
Holy crap, I'm writing again! WOOHOO! ...Okay, it's just editing things I've already written. That's still more progress than I've made in a while.
Title: I Belong to You
Series: none yet, but sequel to I Promise You My...
Word Count: 940
Rating: G
Disclaimer Post
Summary: Gwendal is an unwilling witness to the beginning of Yuuri and Conrad's romantic relationship.
Notes: As I said, this takes place after I Promise You My... but I'm not sure how long after. For the record, Yuuri and Wolfram are not engaged in either of these. I know I didn't show that bit "on screen," as it were, and I know I'm kind of ignoring Wolfram altogether, but...actually, but nothing. My fic. No Wolfram. Maybe I'll write a proper breakup fic some other time, but for now, just take it as read that it happened.
---
Gwendal-who would forever maintain that he was an innocent victim in a castle full of overwrought lunatics-was briefing Yuuri on an upcoming diplomatic visit when he chanced upon a particular combination of words that must never, ever be said in the Maou’s presence. (Gunther would later claim that his frantic arm-waving was an attempt to stop him, but Gwendal wasn’t so sure about that, and it wasn’t like Gunther and frantic arm-waving didn’t go together, anyway.)
“Ancient customs or not, we will still have to take precautions. Conrart, what of the palace guards?” Gwendal realized a second too late that the only words Yuuri would have registered in what he’d just said were “take” and “Conrart.” Before he had time to even think about damage control, the king exploded.
“NO! They can’t take Conrad!”
There was dead silence as Gunther and Josak (because a wise man did not attempt to brief Yuuri on anything without backup) tried to follow the Yuuri-logic from point A to triangle. The soldier in question smiled slightly and said nothing. Gwendal just sighed and reached for his knitting. Clearly he wasn’t going to get anything else productive done today, particularly if Conrart was more interested in being inscrutable than in being helpful.
“I don’t think-“ Josak started before Gunther interrupted him.
“Oh, Heika! My heart bleeds for you!”
Yuuri’s eyes widened even further at Gunther’s unintentionally poor choice of words. “B-bleed?” he asked in a shaking voice. Josak immediately proved his worth as Gwendal’s best agent by jumping back in before Yuuri could go into Gunther-worthy hysterics.
“Nah, no bleeding. We’re good on that front, don’t you worry about that, kiddo. But about the captain-“
“He’s not theirs-he’s not anyone’s to take,” Yuuri said fiercely.
Josak opened his mouth-to say what, Gwendal couldn’t begin to fathom, nor did he get to find out. Conrart’s soft chuckle cut through what was shaping up to be a spectacularly uncontrolled mess. “How could I possibly argue with that?” the soldier murmured to no one in particular. Then he finally-finally!-pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up throughout the entire meeting and went down on one knee before his king.
Gwendal had expected a traditional slap in the privacy of anywhere that wasn’t his office, but if Conrart wanted to honor the traditions of the king’s birth world instead, he wouldn’t argue. So long as the man finally got his act together, of course. Otherwise Gwendal would have to step in, for the sake of his own sanity and continued ability to get his work done in peace, if nothing else.
But Conrart appeared to be going for it, for a change. He gathered both of Yuuri’s hands in one of his own and laid the other gently against Yuuri’s cheek. Gwendal briefly weighed the obvious intimacy of the moment (and thus the privacy it warranted) against all the others like it that had come and gone with no progress whatsoever, before deciding to stay put. Better to see it coming if he was going to have to take a hand.
Yuuri, meanwhile, leaned into Conrart’s hand. His eyes fell closed and all the tension bled out of him. “Conrad,” he whispered, so softly that it was nearly inaudible.
“Who do I belong to, my Yuuri?” Conrart asked softly into the breathless hush that suddenly hung over the room. Yuuri’s eyes flew open.
“Wha-?”
“If I am ‘not theirs to take’-which I do not dispute in the slightest-then whose am I?”
Gwendal spared a moment to sweep the other occupants of the room with a fierce glare. If anyone interrupts, I will not be held responsible for my actions, he thought.
Yuuri swallowed and visibly screwed up his courage. “You know whose,” he said quietly but firmly; not the voice of a child, but the voice of their king.
“I know that I gave my life into your hands,” Conrart said, like there was anyone in the castle-no, in the entire kingdom who didn’t know that already.
Yuuri nodded solemnly. “You did,” he affirmed, “and I didn’t-I won’t give it back. Not unless-not unless…I can’t even think of anything.”
“Well, then I guess that makes me yours,” Conrart said in the same tone of voice that always cropped up around Yuuri-love and trust and fierceness all wrapped up in the kind of utter certainty most of the castle’s inhabitants had given up on hearing from him, ever again. (Before Yuuri came along, that is, and started his campaign to make the whole country forget the meaning of the words “give up.” Special emphasis, of course, on never giving up on Conrart.)
At first, Gwendal was slightly worried that the king might take that exchange to mean that Conrart was speaking from his duty rather than from his heart, but it turned out that he needn’t have been concerned. If the look on his face was any indication, Conrart’s heart was exactly what Yuuri heard. Gwendal had heard Yuuri’s smile described (often by Gunther) as looking like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He’d put no stock in such a fanciful notion until he saw the sun-bright smile Yuuri gave to Conrart. It was really kind of…cute.
Gwendal belatedly realized that he had a ridiculously wide smile on his own face. He ducked his head and furiously shuffled his papers until he could scowl again. So long as he was focused on that, he didn’t have to see Gunther’s blissful swooning, Josak’s smug grin, or the newest royal couple’s long-awaited first kiss.
Title: I Belong to You
Series: none yet, but sequel to I Promise You My...
Word Count: 940
Rating: G
Disclaimer Post
Summary: Gwendal is an unwilling witness to the beginning of Yuuri and Conrad's romantic relationship.
Notes: As I said, this takes place after I Promise You My... but I'm not sure how long after. For the record, Yuuri and Wolfram are not engaged in either of these. I know I didn't show that bit "on screen," as it were, and I know I'm kind of ignoring Wolfram altogether, but...actually, but nothing. My fic. No Wolfram. Maybe I'll write a proper breakup fic some other time, but for now, just take it as read that it happened.
---
Gwendal-who would forever maintain that he was an innocent victim in a castle full of overwrought lunatics-was briefing Yuuri on an upcoming diplomatic visit when he chanced upon a particular combination of words that must never, ever be said in the Maou’s presence. (Gunther would later claim that his frantic arm-waving was an attempt to stop him, but Gwendal wasn’t so sure about that, and it wasn’t like Gunther and frantic arm-waving didn’t go together, anyway.)
“Ancient customs or not, we will still have to take precautions. Conrart, what of the palace guards?” Gwendal realized a second too late that the only words Yuuri would have registered in what he’d just said were “take” and “Conrart.” Before he had time to even think about damage control, the king exploded.
“NO! They can’t take Conrad!”
There was dead silence as Gunther and Josak (because a wise man did not attempt to brief Yuuri on anything without backup) tried to follow the Yuuri-logic from point A to triangle. The soldier in question smiled slightly and said nothing. Gwendal just sighed and reached for his knitting. Clearly he wasn’t going to get anything else productive done today, particularly if Conrart was more interested in being inscrutable than in being helpful.
“I don’t think-“ Josak started before Gunther interrupted him.
“Oh, Heika! My heart bleeds for you!”
Yuuri’s eyes widened even further at Gunther’s unintentionally poor choice of words. “B-bleed?” he asked in a shaking voice. Josak immediately proved his worth as Gwendal’s best agent by jumping back in before Yuuri could go into Gunther-worthy hysterics.
“Nah, no bleeding. We’re good on that front, don’t you worry about that, kiddo. But about the captain-“
“He’s not theirs-he’s not anyone’s to take,” Yuuri said fiercely.
Josak opened his mouth-to say what, Gwendal couldn’t begin to fathom, nor did he get to find out. Conrart’s soft chuckle cut through what was shaping up to be a spectacularly uncontrolled mess. “How could I possibly argue with that?” the soldier murmured to no one in particular. Then he finally-finally!-pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up throughout the entire meeting and went down on one knee before his king.
Gwendal had expected a traditional slap in the privacy of anywhere that wasn’t his office, but if Conrart wanted to honor the traditions of the king’s birth world instead, he wouldn’t argue. So long as the man finally got his act together, of course. Otherwise Gwendal would have to step in, for the sake of his own sanity and continued ability to get his work done in peace, if nothing else.
But Conrart appeared to be going for it, for a change. He gathered both of Yuuri’s hands in one of his own and laid the other gently against Yuuri’s cheek. Gwendal briefly weighed the obvious intimacy of the moment (and thus the privacy it warranted) against all the others like it that had come and gone with no progress whatsoever, before deciding to stay put. Better to see it coming if he was going to have to take a hand.
Yuuri, meanwhile, leaned into Conrart’s hand. His eyes fell closed and all the tension bled out of him. “Conrad,” he whispered, so softly that it was nearly inaudible.
“Who do I belong to, my Yuuri?” Conrart asked softly into the breathless hush that suddenly hung over the room. Yuuri’s eyes flew open.
“Wha-?”
“If I am ‘not theirs to take’-which I do not dispute in the slightest-then whose am I?”
Gwendal spared a moment to sweep the other occupants of the room with a fierce glare. If anyone interrupts, I will not be held responsible for my actions, he thought.
Yuuri swallowed and visibly screwed up his courage. “You know whose,” he said quietly but firmly; not the voice of a child, but the voice of their king.
“I know that I gave my life into your hands,” Conrart said, like there was anyone in the castle-no, in the entire kingdom who didn’t know that already.
Yuuri nodded solemnly. “You did,” he affirmed, “and I didn’t-I won’t give it back. Not unless-not unless…I can’t even think of anything.”
“Well, then I guess that makes me yours,” Conrart said in the same tone of voice that always cropped up around Yuuri-love and trust and fierceness all wrapped up in the kind of utter certainty most of the castle’s inhabitants had given up on hearing from him, ever again. (Before Yuuri came along, that is, and started his campaign to make the whole country forget the meaning of the words “give up.” Special emphasis, of course, on never giving up on Conrart.)
At first, Gwendal was slightly worried that the king might take that exchange to mean that Conrart was speaking from his duty rather than from his heart, but it turned out that he needn’t have been concerned. If the look on his face was any indication, Conrart’s heart was exactly what Yuuri heard. Gwendal had heard Yuuri’s smile described (often by Gunther) as looking like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. He’d put no stock in such a fanciful notion until he saw the sun-bright smile Yuuri gave to Conrart. It was really kind of…cute.
Gwendal belatedly realized that he had a ridiculously wide smile on his own face. He ducked his head and furiously shuffled his papers until he could scowl again. So long as he was focused on that, he didn’t have to see Gunther’s blissful swooning, Josak’s smug grin, or the newest royal couple’s long-awaited first kiss.