Home.
Day 51 - 12:19 AM: Blood Pledge Palace; Conrad and Yozak's Rooms.
[From here and here.]
Home.
The key slides into the lock with an easy familiarity and the iron groan of the bolt is a welcome salutation. Conrad opened the door to his sitting room slowly, Lawrence a respectful distance behind him. He was home again. Not even walking the palace and seeing his family and comrades could reaffirm that fact as well as simply stepping past the threshold into his rooms--his sanctuary.
Lawrence followed, but stopped in the doorway out of respect for the older man's clear desire to experience this moment privately. He watched for a moment as the Captain walked throughout the room. Cheri-sama had redecorated, the guard noted: slight alterations to the color scheme, a blending of things that were both Weller's and Gurrier's. The Captain said nothing on the matter, seemingly satisfied to merely inspect things, but there appeared no discontent in his features.
"They brought your things back," the soldier says quietly, his eyes fixed on Conrad's face. He nods in the direction of the table where an unopened pack, two sheathed daggers, and sheathed sword lay. "Your bro--Hoka von Walde did."
The brunet turns away from a carving that had not been on the bookshelf when he left. "Then I am grateful to him."
Lawrence resisted the urge to frown. The Captain was . . . different. There was a stiff formality to him and a deep unhidden sorrow in his eyes, as though the wall of his professional, unoffensive smile had crumbled and was not yet fully rebuilt. He looked . . . very sad. Tired. Worn.
Fallible.
Half-human.
It was not an image that Lawrence had ever seen and he was not sure he liked it. Weller-taichou was . . . well, infallible. He was a hero to many, and heroes were not the same as other people. They did not bend of break. The did get hurt. They did not fail. They did not smile so gently while looking so damn sad. Heroes were not disillusioned--not like this . . .
He wondered if the Captain knew about Lady von Wincott. He pitied whomever had to break the news.
"Tomorrow," Conrad's voice startled the man out of his ruminations. "Will you be able to give me your reports in the morning? After my run with the Maou?"
It was a question and a command all rolled into one, delivered as though it was neither. Lawrence smiled within himself and straightened slightly. "Yes, sir. There were questions as to when--"
"Next week." He met Lawrence's gaze with calm collection. "I will return to active duty, Shinou-willing and if the Maou allows. And tomorrow, I will go out with the dawn and see the men."
Lawrence released a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. "There have been rumors," he said quietly, "but in the barracks they are not believed. Not among our people. The men are all still loyal to you. . . . They want you back."
Conrad looked away, walking towards the window. He could not see the moon. "The men are loyal to the Maou," he corrected without force.
The other man stared hard at his profile. ". . . The men are loyal to you, Captain."
Conrad turned back to him, but said nothing.
After a moment of silence, the guardsman nodded to his Captain; he knew a dismissal when one was made clear. Lawrence bowed and stepped out, closing the door behind him. Whatever the circumstance, the Captain was back and he was still the Captain. All the other details could wait until the morning.
Conrad turned back to the window and stared outside at the stars for several moments before going to the table and retrieving his pack. Lawrence's words echoed in his mind, and he could not pretend that he was not grateful for them. He still had a place here within the castle that had determined so much of his life, and by the Maou's side.
The human king's words still lingered with him, small wounds that bled by virtue of the fact that they were true. "Your status in your own family is apparently well known."
Conrad rubbed his forehead as though the gesture would push them aside. He and Yozak . . . And then there was Yuuri, and Gwendal, and even Wolfram . . .
"It isn't... I don't mean that I want to, but . . . . . . It's late."
He chuckled softly. "Isn't it one-sided, Belal-heika . . . To decide that someone else is unlucky?" And how very foolish to forget that something can be replaced. He thought of the brush of fingers at his shoulder. Or regained.
He entered his . . . their bedroom and started a fire in the hearth before looking around. It was different, but the same. He'd actually forgotten that he had asked Hahaue to redecorate the rooms for him and Yozak until he entered. She had had a light touch, though . . . And it felt . . . better . . . to see his own things blended with Yozak's. It made him feel closer to the other man, a sentiment he would have scorned as foolish two months ago. Now, though . . .
He liked being close to Yozak.
Conrad tossed his pack beside the bureau and walked towards the bathroom, stripping off his jacket and shirt. Washing up, he paused and looked at himself in the mirror, water dripping down his face, and he wondering how he compared with the last time he had stood here. He was still a little thin, but he had always been a little thin. His muscles had been rebuilt, though, eliminating that half-drowned cat look he'd had for a while. And his hair was longer. A bit shaggier. He looked a little older.
He felt older, too. But somehow cleaner than he had in quite a bit. He had not felt the shadows of invisible hand prints on him in quite a while. It made him feel almost normal.
In light of the harrowing past month, normal was a good feeling. Conrad had not really meant to restrain Yozak from returning home, but . . . It was hard. Coming back here was hard. And tomorrow with the men, and Wolfram, and the inevitable reunion with his family at this party his mother and Yuuri had planned, it would be even harder. Wolfram had not seemed ashamed, but the brunet held no illusions about the others. Gwendal, Gunther, the Shinou . . . His eyes locked onto the collar on his bicep.
They would be ashamed. Disappointed. Angry.
He had brought shame to their family. There was no way around it. And the people . . . He was home, but a large part of him still did not wish to be here. He didn't think that Yozak understood that. Then again, he and Yozak did not really talk so much anymore . . .
It was largely his fault and he knew it. When Yozak had discovered the collar, he'd been furious and--while Conrad understood his reasoning--he could not quite bring himself to discard the thing. He felt naked without it. So instead, he hid it, always keeping it close so that Yozak could not discard it when he was absent. Out of site did not mean out of mind, though, and he could sometimes feel Yozak's eyes on him. He didn't want to hurt the other man, but he just couldn't let it go. Not yet.
The collar was not the only cause of their fights, however. Intimacy was a frustrating issue. Conrad did not sleep through the night very often anymore. He did not have nightmares per se, he just wasn't able to sleep straight through. Sometimes he would wake up for a few hours and putter around before retiring again, and sometimes he would be up the entire night. Too often, though, he would look over at the bed he'd vacated and see Yozak watching him sadly before the other man rolled over and went back to sleep. Another thing to not talk about.
His father was another issue entirely. Dan Hiri seemed to talk too much, always poking and prodding and prying, never leaving him in peace. They would tell others that they sparred, but that was not precisely what it was. Sparring was not as violent as what they did. They fought, Dan Hiri feinting and frequently goading Conrad into an outright fury during their bouts. It was a ritual that Conrad was grateful for, though. Somehow the human always seemed to know when he and Yozak had had a row and his temper was at its most fierce. Conrad could recognize that he was moody and unreasonable. Without Dan Hiri there to provide an outlet his suddenly mercurial temper, he was almost afraid of what he would have done. In truth, however, it was not really his temper or temperament that had changed; he simply could not control or hide it as well.
Conrad had been angry, and he'd known it, and he'd also known that it was devouring him. Dan Hiri had helped with that, even as the two men were trying to find out where they stood with one another. If it had not been for him, Conrad seriously doubted he would be able to bear coming back to the castle.
But he was getting better. He could smile not without the expression looking like it was going to shatter. And he felt ready to face the world on his own again. He didn't need Yozak anymore--not in that desperate, primal sense of the word.
But he found himself wanting the redhead in a different sense--one that had crept up on him slowly and seized him before he was aware of it.
He wasn't sure how that would play out now that they were home again. Their relationship was not exactly something that many would bless. And politically, it held the potential to become a serious issue. And then there were their duties. Conrad wasn't sure how or if he could balance having a lover who was so important to him against his position. Another reason for that letter in his pack, really.
If he had to make a choice: Yozak or Yuuri, what would he do? The question was one he was starting to think on often. He found that he had no answer.
Sighing softly, he undid the collar on his arm and hid it inside his favorite pillow before preparing for bed.
His pillow. His bed. His rooms. Rooms and a bed he now shared with his Yozak lover. As he curled up under the sheets it occurred to him that Yozak was right. It was much better being back here than spending another night an impersonal inn. They had spent far too much time out of their environment, in unfamiliar territory.
It was the last thought he had before sleep claimed him and--though he would not really be aware of it--it would also be the first night since his rescue that he fell into a deep, sound sleep within mere moments of laying down.
[From here and here.]
Home.
The key slides into the lock with an easy familiarity and the iron groan of the bolt is a welcome salutation. Conrad opened the door to his sitting room slowly, Lawrence a respectful distance behind him. He was home again. Not even walking the palace and seeing his family and comrades could reaffirm that fact as well as simply stepping past the threshold into his rooms--his sanctuary.
Lawrence followed, but stopped in the doorway out of respect for the older man's clear desire to experience this moment privately. He watched for a moment as the Captain walked throughout the room. Cheri-sama had redecorated, the guard noted: slight alterations to the color scheme, a blending of things that were both Weller's and Gurrier's. The Captain said nothing on the matter, seemingly satisfied to merely inspect things, but there appeared no discontent in his features.
"They brought your things back," the soldier says quietly, his eyes fixed on Conrad's face. He nods in the direction of the table where an unopened pack, two sheathed daggers, and sheathed sword lay. "Your bro--Hoka von Walde did."
The brunet turns away from a carving that had not been on the bookshelf when he left. "Then I am grateful to him."
Lawrence resisted the urge to frown. The Captain was . . . different. There was a stiff formality to him and a deep unhidden sorrow in his eyes, as though the wall of his professional, unoffensive smile had crumbled and was not yet fully rebuilt. He looked . . . very sad. Tired. Worn.
Fallible.
Half-human.
It was not an image that Lawrence had ever seen and he was not sure he liked it. Weller-taichou was . . . well, infallible. He was a hero to many, and heroes were not the same as other people. They did not bend of break. The did get hurt. They did not fail. They did not smile so gently while looking so damn sad. Heroes were not disillusioned--not like this . . .
He wondered if the Captain knew about Lady von Wincott. He pitied whomever had to break the news.
"Tomorrow," Conrad's voice startled the man out of his ruminations. "Will you be able to give me your reports in the morning? After my run with the Maou?"
It was a question and a command all rolled into one, delivered as though it was neither. Lawrence smiled within himself and straightened slightly. "Yes, sir. There were questions as to when--"
"Next week." He met Lawrence's gaze with calm collection. "I will return to active duty, Shinou-willing and if the Maou allows. And tomorrow, I will go out with the dawn and see the men."
Lawrence released a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. "There have been rumors," he said quietly, "but in the barracks they are not believed. Not among our people. The men are all still loyal to you. . . . They want you back."
Conrad looked away, walking towards the window. He could not see the moon. "The men are loyal to the Maou," he corrected without force.
The other man stared hard at his profile. ". . . The men are loyal to you, Captain."
Conrad turned back to him, but said nothing.
After a moment of silence, the guardsman nodded to his Captain; he knew a dismissal when one was made clear. Lawrence bowed and stepped out, closing the door behind him. Whatever the circumstance, the Captain was back and he was still the Captain. All the other details could wait until the morning.
Conrad turned back to the window and stared outside at the stars for several moments before going to the table and retrieving his pack. Lawrence's words echoed in his mind, and he could not pretend that he was not grateful for them. He still had a place here within the castle that had determined so much of his life, and by the Maou's side.
The human king's words still lingered with him, small wounds that bled by virtue of the fact that they were true. "Your status in your own family is apparently well known."
Conrad rubbed his forehead as though the gesture would push them aside. He and Yozak . . . And then there was Yuuri, and Gwendal, and even Wolfram . . .
"It isn't... I don't mean that I want to, but . . . . . . It's late."
He chuckled softly. "Isn't it one-sided, Belal-heika . . . To decide that someone else is unlucky?" And how very foolish to forget that something can be replaced. He thought of the brush of fingers at his shoulder. Or regained.
He entered his . . . their bedroom and started a fire in the hearth before looking around. It was different, but the same. He'd actually forgotten that he had asked Hahaue to redecorate the rooms for him and Yozak until he entered. She had had a light touch, though . . . And it felt . . . better . . . to see his own things blended with Yozak's. It made him feel closer to the other man, a sentiment he would have scorned as foolish two months ago. Now, though . . .
He liked being close to Yozak.
Conrad tossed his pack beside the bureau and walked towards the bathroom, stripping off his jacket and shirt. Washing up, he paused and looked at himself in the mirror, water dripping down his face, and he wondering how he compared with the last time he had stood here. He was still a little thin, but he had always been a little thin. His muscles had been rebuilt, though, eliminating that half-drowned cat look he'd had for a while. And his hair was longer. A bit shaggier. He looked a little older.
He felt older, too. But somehow cleaner than he had in quite a bit. He had not felt the shadows of invisible hand prints on him in quite a while. It made him feel almost normal.
In light of the harrowing past month, normal was a good feeling. Conrad had not really meant to restrain Yozak from returning home, but . . . It was hard. Coming back here was hard. And tomorrow with the men, and Wolfram, and the inevitable reunion with his family at this party his mother and Yuuri had planned, it would be even harder. Wolfram had not seemed ashamed, but the brunet held no illusions about the others. Gwendal, Gunther, the Shinou . . . His eyes locked onto the collar on his bicep.
They would be ashamed. Disappointed. Angry.
He had brought shame to their family. There was no way around it. And the people . . . He was home, but a large part of him still did not wish to be here. He didn't think that Yozak understood that. Then again, he and Yozak did not really talk so much anymore . . .
It was largely his fault and he knew it. When Yozak had discovered the collar, he'd been furious and--while Conrad understood his reasoning--he could not quite bring himself to discard the thing. He felt naked without it. So instead, he hid it, always keeping it close so that Yozak could not discard it when he was absent. Out of site did not mean out of mind, though, and he could sometimes feel Yozak's eyes on him. He didn't want to hurt the other man, but he just couldn't let it go. Not yet.
The collar was not the only cause of their fights, however. Intimacy was a frustrating issue. Conrad did not sleep through the night very often anymore. He did not have nightmares per se, he just wasn't able to sleep straight through. Sometimes he would wake up for a few hours and putter around before retiring again, and sometimes he would be up the entire night. Too often, though, he would look over at the bed he'd vacated and see Yozak watching him sadly before the other man rolled over and went back to sleep. Another thing to not talk about.
His father was another issue entirely. Dan Hiri seemed to talk too much, always poking and prodding and prying, never leaving him in peace. They would tell others that they sparred, but that was not precisely what it was. Sparring was not as violent as what they did. They fought, Dan Hiri feinting and frequently goading Conrad into an outright fury during their bouts. It was a ritual that Conrad was grateful for, though. Somehow the human always seemed to know when he and Yozak had had a row and his temper was at its most fierce. Conrad could recognize that he was moody and unreasonable. Without Dan Hiri there to provide an outlet his suddenly mercurial temper, he was almost afraid of what he would have done. In truth, however, it was not really his temper or temperament that had changed; he simply could not control or hide it as well.
Conrad had been angry, and he'd known it, and he'd also known that it was devouring him. Dan Hiri had helped with that, even as the two men were trying to find out where they stood with one another. If it had not been for him, Conrad seriously doubted he would be able to bear coming back to the castle.
But he was getting better. He could smile not without the expression looking like it was going to shatter. And he felt ready to face the world on his own again. He didn't need Yozak anymore--not in that desperate, primal sense of the word.
But he found himself wanting the redhead in a different sense--one that had crept up on him slowly and seized him before he was aware of it.
He wasn't sure how that would play out now that they were home again. Their relationship was not exactly something that many would bless. And politically, it held the potential to become a serious issue. And then there were their duties. Conrad wasn't sure how or if he could balance having a lover who was so important to him against his position. Another reason for that letter in his pack, really.
If he had to make a choice: Yozak or Yuuri, what would he do? The question was one he was starting to think on often. He found that he had no answer.
Sighing softly, he undid the collar on his arm and hid it inside his favorite pillow before preparing for bed.
His pillow. His bed. His rooms. Rooms and a bed he now shared with his Yozak lover. As he curled up under the sheets it occurred to him that Yozak was right. It was much better being back here than spending another night an impersonal inn. They had spent far too much time out of their environment, in unfamiliar territory.
It was the last thought he had before sleep claimed him and--though he would not really be aware of it--it would also be the first night since his rescue that he fell into a deep, sound sleep within mere moments of laying down.