Kyou Kara Maou-- A Winter's Night

The party had started in The Grand Ballroom, but Wolfram wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. He had shown up at Yuuri’s side for the length of ten minutes—long enough to fulfill his obligation, and then he disappeared to the kitchen.

Wolfram asked Doria for a tray with a small pot of tea, two tea cups, and a plate of cheese, purple grapes, and crackers. Once given to him, he departed through the side door so that he wouldn’t be noticed.

Head held high, Wolfram walked down the breezy hallway. The wafting air pushing his blond locks from his face. On this night, he decided to let his shoulder length hair free. He was beginning to tire of the strict, seemingly perfect life he had been living. Doing what was right and what was fair—to be “perfect” as the fiancé of The Maou of Shin Makoku—was growing thin. His efforts and his demands went either unheeded or flatly ignored. So, on this winter night, Wolfram decided to follow the legend of old—to change.

From snowflake to star.

Wolfram would be a star again—a star on his own terms and to hell with what other people thought.

The blond fire wielder came to a door at the end of the hallway and knocked twice.

“Come in?” a hoarse voice called.

Wolfram opened the door and entered.

Sitting in her bed with a handkerchief to her nose was Greta. “The party can’t possibly be over by now,” she said almost miserably followed by a hearty blow of her nose.

Wolfram bristled slightly at the sound but decided that with his daughter catching a head cold at the last minute, he could be more than understanding. He placed the tray down and took a seat next to her bed.

“I brought something for us. The tea, to share as well as the crackers. But, I suspect, I’ll eat the grapes and cheese.”

Greta tried to chuckle in a nasally-muffled tone. “I don’t think so. That cheese is too yummy.”

And it really was, he had to admit.

Wolfram smiled pleasantly as he poured the tea. Little clouds of steam rose from the cup. “I think you will like this herb tea. Doria says it is good for colds.”

“But why tonight?” Greta whined pathetically, eyeing the beautiful, long sleeved pearl beaded ivory dress hanging on her open closet door. “It’s so beautiful. It’s too bad no one will see it.”

“Hmmm… We could give it to Yozak,” Wolfram teased lightly, handing over the cup and saucer.

Well, that got a tiny smile out of her. “He…won’t fit.” She blew on her tea to cool it off.

“He could diet.”

A wider smile. “It would never work.”

“Are you sure?”

A bigger smile. “Yes.”

“We could put him into a whale bone corset.”

Now, Greta laughed and almost spilled her tea in her lap. She could just imagine the castle spy being squeezed into the tightest corset possible just to get into her brand new, ultra-ultra totally favorite dress in the whole wide world.

“Then don’t worry about it,” Wolfram said as he offered the plate of crackers. “That beautiful dress will be waiting for the next party and, knowing Mother, that won’t be too far off.”

Greta lifted a single cracker from the plate and tasted it. It had a light, flaky texture with a hint of rosemary. “But, still…” Her eyes drifted to the dress again. “I wanted to dance with you in it. I wanted everyone to see.” Then, Greta looked sadly into her cup. “It’s just that you’re so great, Wolfram. And, in that dress, I’d be great, too.”

Wolfram blinked at her. What a strange thing to say. “You know, you don’t need a dress to be ‘great.’ You’re already great to me.” He took back Greta’s cup with a smile in her direction as he leaned forward. “And it’s more than the fact that you’re my only daughter.”

The blond put Greta’s cup back on the tray. He got up, circled the bed, and offered Greta a hand up. Before Greta knew it, she was on her feet in the middle of her bedroom. Wolfram had her in his arms and she was dancing a slow waltz. Wolfram hummed softly as they danced—step by step by step. Near the bed, near the fireplace—and, in doing so, Wolfram’s hair was shining bright as a star.

They danced closer to the closet, Greta’s robe lifting lightly from her.

Then, Wolfram stopped and pointed to the dress. “It’s a beautiful thing. But it is only a thing. You are far more precious to me.” Wolfram shrugged with slight embarrassment saying, “I can order another dress but I can never order another ‘Greta.’”

Twenty minutes later, Yuuri’s voice could be heard as the door to the bedroom was opened and Yuuri was speaking over his shoulder. “Like I told you Conrad, one minute Wolfram was there and the next, he was gone. I hope he’s not mad at me. He never disappears like this. Maybe, Greta knows…”

The young king stopped with Conrad behind him.

Sitting in the chair, Wolfram was sound asleep—holding hands with Greta. And both father and daughter were dreaming happy dreams while the pot of tea had grown stone cold and the crackers were half eaten.