The Candlebrook Chronicles
Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou
Message: okay guys! I have now managed to get th first chapter back up! Yay! I'll start working on getting the others up this weekend.
Note: This is intended to be a shorter story than my others, with an already planned out storyline and perhaps the possibility of an epilogue but no more than that. This is just a way to get out my excess ideas whilst I am working on my other stories. Someday Out of the Blue, When One Door Opens, and Blindfold will all take precedence over this story.
"I see you in the distance and I see us as we areSo nearly so contented but a careless word too farI see you in confusion for a once enchanted boyMy heart dances, oh but not for joy
I longed to love you better but I swear I don't know howYou could have been my future but I had to have it nowThe things we love completely we are fated to destroyMy heart dances, oh but not for joy"
-Elton John, "My Heart Dances"
Chapter 1: Don't Forget Me
Wolfram sat silently as once again his birthday present to Yuuri waited to be opened. All the others had already had their turn, and once again his would be the last and least important gift in his king's eyes.
Every year Wolfram wished with all his heart that maybe the boy he loved would notice his gift before his brothers', or at least before the maids'. He would be satisfied as long as his gift wasn't the last one… the one that Yuuri had to open just to be fair.
Sure, they were married now, they had been for about a year… but that didn't mean Yuuri's feelings about him had changed. It was in no way a loving or affectionate marriage. In fact, it sometimes seemed like the knowledge of being married to someone who doesn't feel the same way about you made every moment far more excruciating.
Quietly Wolfram disappeared through the swarm of party guests before he had to witness Yuuri's disappointed face once again. Perhaps next year he would not bother, at least he could save Yuuri that energy he used to fain gratitude for a gift that wasn't as good as Conrad's or Gwendal's.
Yuuri pushed open the door to his room cautiously, peeking in to see if there were any traces of his wife. He hadn't seen the blonde since dinner, and as a good husband wanted to thank Wolfram for the gift he had been given.
But instead what he found was what he thought was an empty room.
The curtains were open, and no candles had been lit. It was eerie, almost, the vast expanse of his bedchambers filled by the moonlight streaming in through the tall windows. Sighing, he gently pushed shut the heavy oaken doors.
Just then a figure shot up in his bed. He nearly screamed, or… at least he would have screamed had he been able to find his voice.
Wolfram merely rolled his eyes, the details of his face unable to be seen within the contrast of the moonlight and the shadows. "It's just me, hennachoko."
"Oh…," the king sighed, a blush rising upon his cheeks. "I thought the room was empty…"
The queen merely stood from the bed, "I'm sorry."
Yuuri was quick to realize that he had made a mistake. He jumped forward through the dark and reached out, his fingers making contact with Wolframs back…. Wolfram's naked back. The queen grew tense at the feel of his husband's hand upon his shoulder blade. "Wolfram… are you naked?"
The blonde thanked the gods that the lights were still out, for he felt the most ashamed of himself at this moment in time. "I… couldn't find my nightgown… and we're married so…"
Yuuri forced a smile on his face, "oh… okay…. I guess that makes sense. Let's just go to bed." But as he finished speaking, he sensed Wolfram hesitating. "What's wrong?"
"The bed's dirty…."
The king was confused. "But you were just sleeping in it… how could it be dirty?"
At this the queen jerked away, "Are you really that moronic?" His voice was furious as flung himself towards the windows. "I was pleasuring myself… what do you think?" His bare body now illuminated by the moonlight, he collapsed onto the floor, keeping his back to his husband. It was bad enough that he had had to resort to such a vile action… but now he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. "Dammit…," he whispered weakly to himself.
Yuuri stood astonished, neither concern nor anger reaching his thoughts through his confusion and surprise. Dumbly he mumbled, "Were you thinking about me?"
Wolfram's anger flared within his chest, "No," he snapped sarcastically, "I was thinking about my father," his sobs increased with the utterance of each word. Then brokenly he dropped his head into his hands, "of course it was you…. Who else…..who else can do this to me?"
The king could only stare silently, lifelessly watching what he had done to Wolfram. The prince who had once been so full of life had lost his honor and above all, his passion for living. "Umm…. Its okay, Wolfram," he spoke tentatively, "you're a boy… its uhh... natural. We can just sleep on the clean part of the bed." He honestly thought that this would make his wife feel better.
Humiliated, Wolfram shook his head, "it's on your pillow too."
"Oh…" Yuuri murmured, being forced to realize the full extent of Wolfram's desperation. He had driven him to such a hopeless point where he could only find sexual relief in his husband's pillow. It wasn't Wolfram's fault at all. There was no reason for him to be ashamed. It was Yuuri. The negligent husband who had thought marrying the prince just to get him off his back would make everything alright.
"Is that all you can say to me?" The wavering voice of his wife reached his ears. "I just soiled our bed, and your fucking pillow…. And all you can say is 'oh'? If you hadn't come so soon, I would have gotten to your damn pajamas too." He became engulfed in sobs once more. In forced awkwardly segmented words, he continued to vent, "I've done it before… I've come all over your s-stupid clothes. You've ne-never even no-noticed. I al-always wash them be-before you can f-find out."
"Wolfram…," Yuuri whispered, unable to process the emotions. It was too much. "I'm…. I'm sorry."
"You should b-be," Wolfram cried, sprawling gracelessly across the floor. "It's always ab-bout Conrart or Gw-gwendal…," he wept, "…always my present l-last…never here….'m always alone…whole m'rriage 's lie…." his words became incomprehensible and disconnected as the pain and regret that he had kept reigned in was set free to burst from his heart.
Slowly Yuuri lowered himself to the ground, his emotions trapped in a knot in his throat. The king found that pools of tears had gathered in his eyes. This wasn't what he had intended, he had never wanted to hurt anyone, he had meant to make things better, to make the prince happy. Nervously he placed his hands on Wolfram's shoulders, trying to steady himself and his thoughts. His fingertips pressed softly against the tepid skin, still damp from heart-breaking pleasure, as if trying to discern that Wolfram really was right there with him. "Wolfram….," Yuuri groaned painfully, trying to rip his words through the rock that was blocking their way. "What … what should I do?"
There was silence, Wolfram's sobs having given away to the familiar numbness he lived with every day. Timidly leaning back into Yuuri's touch, his energy exhausted from crying, he closed his eyes. "Nothing." He whispered weakly, "you should do nothing… I asked for this right? When I fell in love with you…when I made you marry me…" Sleep began to tug at his eyes. A beckoning comfort that would protect him from what he was sure would be Yuuri's anger.
But Yuuri did not yell, nor did he pull away in disgust. He merely allowed Wolfram to lie against him, watching as the blonde's breaths became more steady and even. A calm began to fill the room, one that lacked resolve, yet would provide time to rest before the storm. "We should go to bed," was all Yuuri could say.
Yuuri ended up sleeping in Celi's empty room, as Wolfram had continued to feebly claim that their bed was too dirty for the king to sleep in even as he drifted into light slumber. The boy king had found himself unable to sleep; haunted by everything that was true. Though he had never realized it, nor meant for it to happen, he always did open Wolfram's presents last, and always seemed to have something more important to do than to do than to spend time with his wife.
At the reminder of his present he sat up, trying to remember where he had put it. Perhaps I left it in the dining room…he thought to himself, all the more ashamed of the lack of interest he had shown it. It had been a truly considerate gift, and perhaps the most thoughtful of all. But as a boy who liked baseball, a music box with a picture of all his friends hand painted on the cover, was not really something you would want for your birthday.
Carefully he pulled himself from underneath the covers, the hem of his pants dragging along the ground as he made his way out into the hall. He hadn't even heard what tune the box played. He hadn't even bothered.
Deftly he snuck past Gunter's room, and Gwendal's, then most cautiously past his own room. Of all things he did not want to wake Wolfram; especially not if he would have to explain how he had carelessly left his birthday gift in the dining room after the party. However, he still snuck a peak through the keyhole, hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleeping wife. He wanted reassurance that Wolfram had not done anything to harm himself after Yuuri had left the previous night. In the faint light of dawn, the boy could just barely make out the delicate silhouette of the queen. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully.
Yuuri then proceeded down the corridor, passing the library, the study, and the ballroom on his way to the dining room.
When he had reached his destination, he found to his dismay that the room had been thoroughly cleaned. The table was clear, the floor was spotless, and once again all of the chairs were in their proper places. Search as he may, there was no sign of Wolfram's present anywhere. "Please don't let it be thrown away," Yuuri muttered desperately under his breath, digging his hands underneath the pillows of the settee.
"Heika?" A woman's soft voice flowed from behind him. A maid carrying a large basket of laundry was watching him curiously. "Is everything alright? It is awfully early for you to be awake…"
"I umm… couldn't sleep," he stuttered, standing helplessly from his efforts.
"Oh dear," she sighed sympathetically. "Being a king is such a stressful job. You really do need your sleep." The statement was more to herself than to him at all, and it was just a good as Yuuri wasn't really listening. Readjusting her heavy burden, she continued, "is there anything I can get you?"
"Umm….," he rubbed the back of his head hesitantly. What would she think of him if he said that he had left his wife's present behind without a second thought? Slowly he formed words without his mind's permission. "I was looking for the present Lord Bielefeld gave me... you know… at the party last night."
The girl thought for a moment, tilting her head to one side, then the other as if her mind was an etch-a-sketch trying to work in reverse. "Do you mean the music box?"
Yuuri grew excited, "yes… so… have you seen it?"
"Well, yes…," she sighed, again adjusting the basket against her hip. She glanced around momentarily as to reconfirm her recollection. "His highness came down to get it last night. He said that he knew you would forget it."
The king's heart fell. Wolfram knew that he had cast it aside. Better yet, he had been able to predict it. He could just picture his wife coming down after everyone else had gone to bed and sadly taking it back. It was a depressing and sickening image. "I had hoped to get it before he woke up," Yuuri mumbled mindlessly.
"I apologize your, your majesty, I was unaware that you would come looking for it, or I would have asked the queen to please leave it for you," the maid bowed obediently. In his mind, Yuuri heard her apology as 'you had this coming, if you hadn't ignored him for so long, he would never have gotten hurt.' He merely nodded in acceptance of her silent statement and strode away in the direction of his bedroom. He would have to face the music sometime that day, and he might as well fess up to it like a man. "Good day, your majesty," she called after him.
The corridor was still empty as he came up the stairs. It was to be expected as it was still only 4 or 5 in the morning. The light from the slowly rising sun was not enough to fully illuminate the hall, and no longer needing to be cautious, he tripped over a guard's chair.
All the while he spoke to himself, "great job, Yuuri," he muttered out of frustration, "You've really screwed it up this time." He continued to curse himself until he reached the doorway to the royal bedchamber. He knew that Wolfram would still be asleep, and was uncertain whether or not he should risk waking him in order to get to his clothes. Yet something, most likely guilt, seemed to push him forward, pressing the heavy oaken doors open and nudging him anxiously within.
At first everything silent and still, at least until Yuuri's ears realized what they were actually hearing. It was soft, and hard to hear, yet it was close. Gentle breathless pants washed through the air, hitching in uneven waves of pleasure. "Yuuri…Yuuri…"
The king froze, fearing that he had been caught. Yet he soon realized that the impassioned moans were not directed at him. Drawing nearer, while at the same time staying far enough away as to not draw attention to himself. He found his wife, writhing needily beneath the covers, gasping wantonly to presumably the touch of his own hand.
The scene was stunning, the queen seeming far more radiant with his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes screwed shut as his head dug back into the pillow desperately. This beautiful act was what Wolfram had been ashamed of? Yuuri couldn't quite grasp the concept.
"Yuuri!" Wolfram cried out, reaching his climax, blissfully unaware of his audience. He rested against the mattress weakly, arms lying loosely at his sides, his eyes remaining tightly shut as he tried to cling to his fleeting fantasy.
Involuntarily, Yuuri also moaned, his eyes glazed at the sigh of his spent wife. "Wolfram…"
As suddenly set aflame, Wolfram shot upon, heart fluttering terrified at the sound of his husband's voice. "Yuuri, what are you doing here?!" He snapped, unable to look his beloved in the eye. He was still breathing heavily, and beads of sweat gathered on his bare shoulders. He was a vision of passion itself.
The king remained silent for a moment; then stepped forward. "I wanted to talk to you." Slowly he lifted the sheets, and slid underneath them to join his wife.
"Yuuri, stop, it's dirty in here," Wolfram protested nervously, his shame begin to strengthen. His voice grew more timid, "I mean… I know you just saw me…you saw what I was doing…" However, Yuuri merely crawled closer to him, not taking notice of his wife's complaints. He wanted to prove something to Wolfram.
"The bed isn't dirty, Wolfram," he murmured, reaching out a hand to cup his wife's cheek. His skin was warm and welcoming. "The sheets are just wet."
For a moment Wolfram wondered if perhaps Yuuri could truly be that naïve.
Yet the boy king smiled at him, trying to make him feel safe and comfortable. Shyly he moved his hands to his pajama top, his fingers slowly beginning to undo the buttons. Wolfram blushed, not knowing what to do.
"Yuuri… what are you…"
Yuuri bashfully allowed his shirt to slide off his shoulders, then gently tugged it off and dropped it onto the floor. He then did the same with his pants, moving quietly and patiently. "I want to be with you, Wolfram," he whispered quietly, "I just don't know what to do…." Nervously he reached for his wife's hand lying motionlessly on the blankets.
"Yuuri…" emerald eyes watched as their fingers intertwined. Without pulling away, he turned his face from Yuuri. "No… I can't forgive you…"
Yuuri lovingly squeezed his wife's fingers. "I know you went back downstairs last night…" his voice was sorrowful and apologetic. "… you went to get the music box… you know me too well…" Each word was burdened with heavy regret. "
Wolfram forced a fake laugh from his throat, "I know you better then anyone else." A single hiccupping sob broke from his lips. Yuuri drew close to him, pulling the queen to his chest tightly, as if begging to be forgiven.
"I am so sorry, Wolfram," he murmured, kissing the words into the boy's hair, "I know you don't believe me, but I really am, I am so…" for the first time he too began to weep. "Wolfram please… please….just one more chance…"
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