Well, although I've been a huge fan of KKM for ages, I've never written a fanfiction for it. In fact, I don't write fanfiction, but I wanted to tell a little story. So, hope you like it...and yeah, it's completely CONYUU, because that's my favorite pairing--and I think the most interesting things can happen to them. And, even though we all know it, I don't own Kyou Kara Maou...not even a little bit.


An Honorable Man

"They make a charming couple."

Sir Conrad Weller, the King's Knight, turned his carefully blank gaze upon his closest friend, the Spy Yozak. The red-haired man was grinning, after his pronouncement, and while there was no evidence of mischief in his body language, the gleam in his blue eyes shone brightly.

"They do. Indeed, they always have." Conrad inclined his head as he spoke, as though observing the scene closely. Of course, he had already imprinted every person in the room to memory, acknowledged every point of exit and entrance, as well as silently marked the few people he personally believed might cause trouble.

"Still," Yozak continued, with an overly-dramatic sigh, "I always thought Yuri-heika would look happier on his wedding day. I don't think he looks terribly happy…do you, Captain? In fact, I think if he stays in this room any longer, he might just cry."

Conrad turned his attention back to the king and bit the inside of his lip. Wolfram and Yuri certainly painted a beautiful tableau. Yuri in his dark clothing, black bangs falling to shadow bright black eyes, and Wolfram, the handsome prince, the full-blooded, royal Mazoku with the shining golden locks and emerald eyes. Yes, they were a couple that would inspire portraits for generations to come. Still, having been as close to the king as Conrad was privileged to be, he recognized the same frown lines that Yozak pointed out. Yuri's eyes were, in fact, just a little too bright, glistening with unshed tears.

Conrad swallowed his response when Yuri looked his way. Straightening his already ramrod stiff spine, he waited as the royal couple made their way toward him.

"Won't you congratulate us, Weller-kyo?" Wolfram's voice was light, though Conrad heard the challenge beneath the words.

"Won't you congratulate us, Conrad?" Wolfram persisted, tugging at Yuri's neck and leaning to kiss his cheek. "It's not every day your younger brother marries the Maou…"

Conrad bolted awake, and shot straight up in bed, sweat pouring down his neck and chest. A dream, just a dream. He shivered and pulled the covers up over his waist. It was only a dream. Yuri and Wolfram had not been married that day. Conrad glanced at his timepiece and tried to settle the galloping on his own aching heart. Yuri was safe, in his room, right where Conrad had left him no more than two hours before. He was in his own small chamber, in Blood Pledge Castle, and in a few hours, the sun would rise on another normal day. It was only a dream.

A dream that might come true, though, whispered the small voice inside his head, and the hairs stood up on his neck.

"Yuri." His choked whisper sounded harsh in his own ears. "Forgive me, please, but I love you so."

Conrad clamped his lips together and smoothed his sheets with shaking hands. This had to stop. These feelings…these inappropriate feelings had to be buried and snuffed out of existence. Yuri was his king. Conrad was the king's protector, the king's knight, his sword and shield. He was a military man of planning and action, not a lover. His station, his calling and his duty demanded he sacrifice himself for the sake of his king and country if need be, and to do so with grace and silent resolve. But no matter how he reminded himself of these simple facts, his recalcitrant, intractable, rebellious heart would not hear. Every beat of that impudent organ betrayed him with Yuri's name. His love, nurtured so slowly over eighteen long years, had grown beyond his capacity to contain it. He was lost, ever lost, in the unfathomable depths of the king's eyes—a boy held Conrad's heart in the palm of his hand. And that boy was engaged to Conrad's younger brother.

No, there was no place in Yuri's life for him other than the role he had faithfully fulfilled to this point. Conrad knew it. He understood it, but, how he hated it. He listened, stretching out his senses as far as he could, hoping for anything to give him an indication that Yuri might one day see him as more than just "The Man who Named Him." But he had found none. The too brief moments of elation he'd felt when Wolfram renounced the engagement just after Yuri had returned to Shin Makaku evaporated the moment Maou appeared and Wolfram's uncle capitulated. The country rejoiced and Conrad nursed his aching heart, smiling all the while. Yuri's heart belonged to Shin Makaku and her people. And, it seemed his body would be claimed by Wolfram in this strange war of attrition that everyone called their engagement.

Conrad settled back into bed, and turned his body to face the window. The light of the new moon shone through the panes and cast shadows on the walls. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his racing thoughts and breaking heart. It would be morning soon, and he would once again have to fulfill another promise—this one made to the King's father: Never to show an angry face to his son.

Tears stung Conrad's eyes and slipped out between tightly closed eyelids. His face contorted as he gave in to the sobs. After all, it wasn't the first time he'd cried himself to sleep.

The sun was up, painting the morning sky with pale streaks of pink and gold. Yuri yawned, stretched, and continued to appreciate the beauty of the morning from his vantage point, perched in the window seat of his bedroom. It wasn't an unusual place to find the king at that hour, even though his bed was the most opulent and comfortable in the palace. The only complaint he had about his bed, in fact, was that he very rarely was allowed to sleep in it.

Glancing at the impressive piece of furniture, he saw that Wolfram was still sprawled across the vast majority of the mattress. Greta, Yuri's adopted daughter, had come in at some point during the night, since she was currently doing what Yuri liked to call "sleep pretzeling"—that is to say, curling around Wolfram's tangled limbs in order to find an open spot in the bed.

For the millionth time it seemed, Yuri studied his sleeping fiancé. He turned the term over in his mind, but from no angle was he able to find a way to make that word mean all that it should. At first, of course, he was outraged, completely nonplussed that smacking someone in the face—when that person had spent time trashing his mother—could mean a marriage proposal. But, when no one came to his defense and called a halt to a horrible joke, Yuri had to admit that it was apparently real. Over time, it was just easier to ignore the fact that he was engaged and concentrate on learning to be the maou. The liberties that Wolfram liked to take, and Yuri was under no misconception that they were liberties, seemed pretty pointless in the end. For being a fire user, sometimes Wolfram reminded Yuri of a hurricane. His fits of temper, the way he was either passionate with delight or stormy in anger, the fury descending on Yuri's head whenever the blonde thought the Maou might have glanced in another's direction, all reminded Yuri of a passionate, destructive combination of wind and rain. And, then, of course, there were the tears. The weeping and pleading and cajoling that Yuri alone was privileged to see. The king sighed and pressed his lips together. This farce had to end. His frown turned to rueful grin. Who was he kidding? Today would be a day just like every other day in Shin Makaku. Soon, Conrad would come to "wake" him. He would exercise and spend time with his favorite person in the castle. Then, Gunter would steal him, praise him, and then bury him in schoolwork. Then, Gwendal would glower at him and suggest in icy tones that Yuri actually do SOME work in the office. Then, Yuri would escape, maybe Conrad, Yozak, or both, would help him, then dinner, spending time with Greta, and ending the evening with another vicious argument with his fiancé.

"I'm nothing if not predictable," he whispered to himself.

A light tap at his door caught his attention, and Yuri stood and shook himself back into reality. Time to get the day started. He crossed the room on silent feet, turned the well-oiled knob, and opened the door to reveal a smiling Conrad.

"Good Morning, Heika." His voice was low, soft, intimate. Yuri shivered lightly. This was the best part of his morning. He knew that Conrad had no feelings for him other than the constant love that an honest man has for his king, but Yuri liked to pretend otherwise. This morning ritual had somehow sprung up between them and Yuri guarded these moments jealously—when he could imagine Conrad as more than protector and subject.

"My name's still Yuri, you know, just in case you've forgotten." Yuri grinned. "And good morning, Conrad."

"Good morning, Yuri. Is everything all right? Did you sleep well?"

Yuri bit his lower lip gently and tossed a look toward the bed. "I suppose. Shall I change, then?"

The tall man nodded, fixing Yuri with his cinnamon-colored eyes. Yuri's breath caught in his throat. He wondered how the soldier managed to always look completely put together. He was better looking than any fashion model, even Gunter, could ever be. Yuri felt like an ugly duck in comparison, but consoled himself that he had a special place in Conrad's heart, even if he wasn't gorgeous and sophisticated. Conrad had promised to always be by Yuri's side—and that was the one thing Yuri vowed never to lose.

"I'll await you downstairs, Heika."

"It's Yuri," he whisper-growled. "Gimme ten minutes."

Yuri closed the door and hurried to dress. As clumsy as he generally was, Yuri was able to escape his room without waking either of the other occupants. He strolled down the hall to the breakfast room. He walked in, but the cheerful, teasing greeting he had prepared for Conrad died on his lips. Standing before him, Yuri saw Conrad, HIS knight, in the arms of a very subdued, very beautiful Gunter. When the lavender-haired man leaned up and pressed his lips to Conrad's forehead, Yuri thought his stomach might just explode. He felt hot, sweaty and sick.

"Conrad?" he asked, feeling tears gather in his eyes.

Gunter turned, frowning, and put himself between Yuri and Conrad. "Heika," he said—in a strong, steady, completely icy voice, so different from his normal tone. "Conrad is ill, and you cannot be near him right now."

"Ill? But I just saw him not fifteen minutes ago…he was fine. Tell him, Conrad!"

In answer, the king's knight lost consciousness and collapsed at Gunter's feet.


It's just the first chapter, but, I hope you enjoy it.