Sacrifices Made for Love
Disclaimer: I own none of KKM
Chapter 11: Accuse Me
It is easy to be the one to die…
Yuuri's mind churned the phrase restlessly in his mind as he held his son, small, quiet, and distant; the small replica of his wife now huddled awkwardly in the king's arms. Neither being was very taken with the other. To Gabriel, his father was a frightening sight. Yuuri's hair was too dark, too black, like a storm that was going to swallow the small infant whole. There was nothing so beautiful in blackness when compared to the luxury and warmth of gold. To Yuuri, Gabriel's eyes were accusing and suspicious. They sat in quiet resentment for a long while before a deep sigh broke the tension.
"You guys are going to have to get along. He's here to stay." The voice was weak and raspy and hard to hear over the sound of the curtain rustling.
"He's blaming me," the king murmured, blinking away tears at the corners of his eyes. "He hates me."
A soft chuckle breathed into the air and was soon broken by desperate gasping. Yuuri moved to stand. "Stay there," Wolfram whispered weakly, eyes slitted just enough to watch his husband. "You have to hold him right…."
The king's concern was elsewhere. "You're stomach… you're bleeding through your bandages again." His eyes widened in horror as the shifting light of the rising sun revealed more of the red pool soaking his wife's white sheets. The crimson stained and spread and stuck sickeningly to Wolfram's trembling figure. The Queen had grown weak and had taken on an appalling greenish-grey hue to his skin.
"The blood is dry," the blonde whispered reassuringly.
"We need to get you new sheets…"
Wolfram groaned and bit his lip in a momentary seizure of pain. "It's alright, Giezela and the maids need to rest… I kept them up all night."
A sob gurgled its way into Gabriel's throat and tumbled in a hiccupping mess out into the sterile air of the room. Yuuri gently rocked his arms in a half-hearted attempt to soothe him. "I think the blood is upsetting the baby."
Smiling tenderly Wolfram reached forward his quivering fingers to brush the pale baby's chubby cheek. "Shh, little one…. You're safe with daddy…" Gabriel's screeches dampened to soft coos wafting across his mother's palm. "Dear sweet child… beautiful child…"
"Your child," the boy king added, leaning in to kiss Wolfram's sweaty pallid cheek, flushed from fleeting death.
The queen shook his head, "our child."
There was a pause.
"Hmmm?" Verdant eyes fluttered meekly as the queen's muscles were once again seized in agony.
Yuuri held his wife in his gaze for a long moment. "You… died."
"Yes…." Wolfram's voice seemed to sigh in disappointment. He felt that perhaps in a moment such as this something along the lines of "I love you" would be more fitting than stating the obvious. "I did die, Yuuri, but it was brief and painless."
The boy king remained distant. "Why?"
"Yuuri I had lost a lot of blood…. Why else?" The blonde felt weak and ill-prepared for such a discussion.
Yuuri remained silent and Gabriel began to squirm in the man's arms. Being held in the same place for so long made it hot and uncomfortable. The newborn's skin was easily irritated and he felt as if set aflame and smothered.
Wolfram clicked his tongue and shifted into the pillow to better view Yuuri's eyes. "Hennachoko…" he breathed soothingly, "come closer, sit next to me."
Yuuri edged timidly towards him moving instinctively to rest his head on the blonde's chest. Wolfram groaned slightly at the weight on his battered body but held his lover in place. "Yuu-chan… what is it you aren't saying? You're holding in something important."
"Wolfram… was it because… you were tired of living? Are you sick… of me?"
Wolfram raised a trembling hand to stroke the boy's cheek reassuringly. "What are you talking about? How could I be sick of you? If you don't remember, it was I who pursued you." He placed a shaking kiss onto the crown of Yuuri's head.
"I doubted you…" Yuuri voice became muffled in the linen of Wolfram's shirt.
"Shh… hush now. None of that matters. We have a baby now…" the gentle words breathed gently into Yuuri's ebony hair.
The king slipped his eyes closed, "I think…. the baby…. fell asleep……."
Conrart heaved himself weakly out of a hard chair in the royal office. His head spun and his hands trembled. Finding his legs weaker still, he sat once more breathing heavily to regain himself. The images of his dying brother swarmed and swelled behind his eyelids, brimming underneath the chocolate lashes and trickling in a stream of heavy tears down the man's ruddy cheek. Conrad gasped deeply into the palm of his hand. "Wolf-fram…"
A gentle tapping on the door broke the solitude of his weeping and he looked with watery eyes to see his mother standing solemnly in the entryway. The woman glided silently towards him, the hem of her black dress swaying about her ankles. "Conrart." Her eyes held her son lovingly as she reached out to gently stroke her son's soft hair. "It's alright… its over now."
The man hid his face in the maze of his fingers, "he was so close… so close…."
"Shh, my dear Conrart. They're at peace now."
"As much as they can be," a deep voice growled darkly from the corner. Gwendal remained at the window as he withheld his own distress. He was certain enough tears had been shed in a single night but still unwelcome aching clawed at his heart. "The child… what is the condition of the child?"
Celi eased her middle son against her shoulder. "Fine. A healthy boy."
"An heir," the eldest murmured.
"Gwendal, it's too soon for all that talk. Let him be a child." Celi's voice was scolding and resentful. "There's no need to put such pressures on him minutes after his birth."
However Gwendal did not share her feelings. "This past night should be more than enough proof that we need to decide this child's future now." He stood and paced towards the door.
His mother frowned. "Gwendal, don't… you're just going to make everything hurt more."
"What is the child's name?" Gwendal eyed her impatiently.
The woman paused. "Gabriel. I believed Yuuri Heika named him Gabriel."
"Is that all?"
Celi sighed, the child is "Prince Gabriel Elian von Bielefeld Shibuya…"
Gwendal nodded taking in each name and memorizing it. "The heir to the mazoku throne. Prince Gabriel…" He rested his weight in the chair closest to the wall. "They're young to have children…."
"Too young… to need an heir," Conrart coughed out, weakly straightening himself. He attempted to regain his composure as best he could. It had been a long time since he had last truly wept. "They're too young for this…."
"The baby," Celi spoke softly. "The child looks like his mother."
Gwendal lowered his eyes. "A reminder."