Hey people! Just a quick plot bunny that hopped into my mind, no idea where he came from. Anyway, I wrote this after I saw the episode fiancé v.s. betrothed. I was just thinking that it seemed unlikely for Wolfram to have had so few girls chasing him. I mean, c'mon, he is cute. So anyway, this is a totally one sided other-girl/wolfram. Enjoy!
If there's one thing I've learned for certain, it is that love is a double-edged sword. One side of the blade holds the desperate, unquenchable hope that is generally associated with rejected lovers. The other side brings a stupid, blind foolishness to do whatever it takes to remain near the object of your affections.
So yeah, love definitely hurts. No matter which side of the blade ends up hitting you, you come off looking (and feeling) like a desperate, miserable idiot.
The first time I saw Wolfram von Bielefeld, that was it for me. And to this day, I still wonder which side of the sword cut me. Most likely, it was both sides.
The first time we met, he was holding tryouts for his personal guard. My older brother, who was one of the prospective candidates, did very well, and secured a spot in the nobleman's guard for himself. After the tryouts, Sir Wolfram acquainted himself briefly with the family members of his new soldiers. My brother's voice was nothing more then an echo in my ears as he introduced us to the beautiful young prince.
"Sir, this is my mother, Ingrid, my father, Kristoph, my sister, Anni..."
I stared, transfixed, at his eyes as he bowed and smiled briefly to each of us. They were like twin emerald pools of dancing, cascading laughter, alluding to a rich, full, loving personality (1).
He was everything that a noble should have been: gorgeous, polite, yet distant. He chatted demurely with us for a moment, then moved on to the next family.
And yet, even as he moved on down the line of families, exchanging smiles and pleasantries with everyone, I couldn't move on from those three seconds I spent staring into his eyes. Over the next few months, it became a hunger, an obsession, to see him again.
While I milked the cow and collected the eggs, I would dwell on the memory of his smiling eyes, and blonde, wind-swept hair.
As I washed laundry in the town square fountain, I would prick up my ears in the hopes that the name Wolfram would slip from the lips of one of the gossipy old ladies.
Gwin, an elderly mettle-worker, was the only one who I told of my love. He listened patiently as I poured out my sorrowed, pained, desperate affection, and never reminded me that I, a mere commoner, could never have any true hope of Sir von Bielefeld's 's returning my feelings. Finally, after nearly two years worth of comforting and wise words, Gwin suggested that I take up a hobby.
"You should busy yourself, mi reina (2). I know that your life and your heart are dedicated to this young man, but perhaps a pass-time would help to take your mind away from him, at least for a little while. Sparring, perhaps? Or your element: has anyone taught you to control it yet?"
So for the next few months, Gwin taught me to spar, and how to control the use of my element: water. I will not fake modesty: I was good, nearly as good as my brothers.
But Gwin was wrong on one account. I still obsessed over Wolfram, still would have given anything and everything to be by his side day and night. I fell asleep wishing he was lying next to me, and awoke with his visage swimming behind my eyelids.
As the years passed, my heart began to burn with a needful longing, surpassing in strength any emotion that I had ever felt before. I poured the raw passion and energy of my desire straight into my studies, improving more rapidly then before. I was intent on becoming a master at sword play and Mazoku. Nothing less then perfection would pacify me.
For I had a plan.
The next time a space opened in Sir Wolfram's guard, I would be the one to fill it. I was aware that I would be forsaking both my friends and family, but, to my eternal shame, all I truly cared for was my blonde nobleman. Everyone else took second place in my affections.
The day I had awaited for so long finally arrived, seven years after I had seen Sir Wolfram for the first time. A messenger arrived, announcing that tryouts for Lord von Bielefeld's's personal guard would be held the following day at Covenant Castle.
That evening I did the dishes without being asked, and played with my little brothers longer then usual. When I was certain the rest of the household was fast asleep, I rose from my bed and wrapped a length of cloth tightly around my breasts until they lay flat to my chest. Painful? Yes. Worth it? Beyond question.
Quietly, I dressed in trousers and a doublet cast off by one of my older brothers, and sorrowfully slipped away from my childhood home, riding my chestnut mare, Nellie.
Halting in front of Gwin's forge, I slipped inside to retrieve my sword from where I left if after sparring practice that afternoon. Gwin was waiting for me by the fireplace, the light casting a glow about his patient, tired, wrinkled face.
I wasn't surprised to see him.
He embraced me, and gently turned me around, unpinning my hair so that it fell down my back. With deft fingers, he carefully cut if to follow the line of my jawbone, as was the fashion with boys in those days.
Silently, Gwin handed me my sword, and embraced me again.
"Anni," he whispered, his voice as rough and cracked as his face. "If I ever had a daughter, I imagine she would be something like you. Don't chase love too far away, alright? We'll all miss you. And whatever happens, always know that you will have a family here until the end of time. My door is always open to you, no matter what."
Silently, I nodded, tears sliding down my cheeks. I would miss Gwin and his soft, thoughtful eyes, the many happy hours we had spent sparring together. But now my chance for happiness, my chance to be near the one I loved best.
And I would take it.
(2). mi reina means my queen in Spanish