Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Axel ❯ Magic Lessons ( Chapter 2 )

Kyou Kara Maou : Axel

 

Summary: Wolfram tells his father about his first love affair, in the dark days after Suzanna Julia died, when Wolfram turned his back on healing and became a soldier. Yuuri appears in later chapters. Side story to The Bedding of Wolfram.

 

Disclaimer: I have no rights to Kyou Kara Maou, of course.

 

Warnings: rated M for mature sexual theme. No spoilers - most of the characters / plot here never appear in the anime.

 

Please review.

 

Update: just cleaning up.

 

Chapter 2 : Magic Lessons

 

Sheepishly, Wolfram left his undress blues and fighting sword in Axel's empty room, while he wore his usual noble dress blues and ceremonial sword to go find Axel's Shin Makoku officer, Sir Chaswick. Ted von Trondheim had expedited matters, so going through the proper forms had him running only slightly late for practice.

 

Axel was in the room when Wolfram returned to change. He looked at the young lord rather blankly. “I had to wear these to seek permission to train with you,” explained Wolfram. “My brother Lord Gwendal chewed me out yesterday for bypassing protocol.”

 

At that, Axel's blank look broke out into a wide grin, like sun breaking out from an overcast sky. “Oh!” he laughed. “When I saw the kit returned without even a note, I thought… Never mind! So we have official permission now, huh? Great!”

 

Wolfram smiled ruefully. “Sorry, I hadn't considered how that might look. And… I'm sorry about all the red tape. I tried to keep it casual, but after all this, I'm afraid you're almost stuck with me. We nobility must look like clowns to you…”

 

Axel broke off his frank appreciation of Wolfram's disrobing to consider that. “With respect, Wolfram… We're soldiers under orders. I saw an opportunity for better training and jumped at it, but… it never was a game for us. If this means you've made a commitment to train with us, I can't say I'm sorry.” He broke off and grinned. “Though I wonder if mama Maou's are much like mama laundrywomen, when you skip out on your chores at home?”

 

That surprised Wolfram into laughing out loud. “You always pay the price for crossing the mama,” he agreed. “Granted they dress differently for work.”

 

“Yours looks better, for sure! Between Manfred and Cecilie, Wolfram, you've got gorgeous parents - no surprise there…” Suddenly, in response to some cue Wolfram missed, Axel dropped his banter, shut Wolfram's dress clothes away in the footlocker, and stood to attention, in a single smooth sweep of motion, just before the door banged open. A grizzled middle-aged head barged one step up straight into Wolfram's bare chest, and retreated abruptly. Wolfram calmly continued buttoning his battle blouse, simply stepping aside to bid the older man enter.

 

With effort, Axel managed to keep a straight face. “Sergeant Buford!” he barked.

 

“At ease,” the older man growled. “I see you've already met the… new training… Wolfram von Bielenfeld-kyo, I presume?”

 

“Ha!” Axel replied, with the Shin Makoku armies' all-purpose equivalent of yes, sir! - good for officers and sergeants alike, or even cooks one wished to butter up.

 

“Until further notice, when this gentleman is available, your squad will treat him as-if he were a training officer. You understand gentleman and as-if, Trooper?”

 

“Ha!”

 

“Von Bielenfeld-kyo, it's my understanding you'll be training all the Bielenfeld Horse the rest of the morning and all afternoon?”

 

“That was my understanding, yes, Sergeant Buford.”

 

“Very good, sir. Axel, report to my quarters at and in lieu of lunch mess.”

 

“Ha!”

 

“We thank you then for your kind assistance, sir.” Buford bowed - as to a gentleman, not an officer - and took his leave.

 

Wolfram finished buttoning his last cuff and remarked, “I do believe your Sergeant Buford doesn't like me.” Axel's eyes were tearing with mirth. “I didn't think it was that funny.”

 

Axel wiped his eyes and replied, “Sergeant Buford wasn't expecting to meet our nuisance princeling half-naked in my bedroom. And you, you just on kept buttoning your shirt without a blink, cool as ice!”

 

Wolfram slowly blushed crimson. “Oh…” Axel just clapped him on the back and motioned for them to get a move on.

 

Despite - during - all the pomp and circumstance filling his past two days, Wolfram had taken time to think through a practice training plan. The men did standard calisthenics and a morning run while he was still sleeping - he could step right into majutsu training with them the rest of the day. There were about a dozen assembled today.

 

“Men,” he addressed them. “This turned out more formal than we expected. Too bad I have no experience teaching. But my Chichiue teaches -“ There were chuckles at that. Manfred was the most renowned teacher in Shin Makoku, on strength of teaching as well as personality. “He and my brother have taught me techniques that aren't widely known outside the Institute. The key to power in majutsu is focus - everyone knows that, right? But did they teach you how to focus, or just tell you to do it?” They looked uncertain. “I'd like a volunteer. Someone who thinks their talent is pretty strong, but could be better skilled.” He hoped that should safely describe all of them.

 

“I'll go first if I have to, wimps,” prodded Axel after a moment. At that, all four Wolfram had trained with before, plus Robair and Paol, stepped forward.

 

“Pyotr,” decided Wolfram. “What's your specialty? Show us your signature.” Every majutsu user had a small signature manifestation of their talent, performed for focus practice. Pyotr made a wobbly column of dirt stand up about two inches. Perfect for Wolfram's purposes - he had ability, but very poor control. “Good. Now, I'm going to annoy you, on purpose. Please bear with me, I'm trying to illustrate a point. And your focus will improve today, I promise.

 

“I'd like you to stand on one foot. Good. The foot that's in the air, please twirl it. Nice. Now, also pat your head with your opposite hand.” Wolfram half-expected the group to snigger, or Pyotr to deck him for ridiculing him, but discipline held. “Damn, Pyotr, your coordination is too good. Alright, extend your other hand and point to the castle. Now, without stopping the head patting or foot twirling, alternate between pointing to the castle and touching your nose.” That did it - Pyotr stumbled off his one foot, to stand quietly, chest heaving, glaring at Wolfram.

 

Wolfram said, “Now show me your signature again.”

 

Pyotr couldn't raise an anthill.

 

“Excellent,” said Wolfram, “a perfect demonstration - thank you. That is the effect of exhausted attention and weak focus. Exactly what I wanted you to demonstrate. Alright, the goal here was not to pick on Pyotr, but for us to have a common frame of reference to gauge our work today. Now I want everyone do the same thing - except you, Pyotr. You take a break and watch everyone else. This should make you feel better.”

 

Most fell faster than Pyotr had. The exceptions were Axel and last of all, Paol, with the more extensive training of a healer, though still a young beginner. “Hm, you've trained at the Institute, haven't you, Paol?”

 

Paol smiled shyly. “Only a year. Manfred-sensei told me to look you up when I got here, but…”

 

“But you wimped out,” finished Wolfram, earning Paol's grin. “I wish you had come and seen me. Alright, let's see if I can beat Paol's performance. Pyotr, revenge time - lead me through it.” First, Wolfram showed his signature. Unlike the weak signs of most of them, or even the quavering blue healing ball on Paol's hand, Wolfram's signature was a rock steady detailed orange flame blossom a hand's-breadth high, with blue flaming stamens - a Beautiful Wolfram blossom, in orange and blue. The group's eyes widened. Pyotr put him through even more contortions than Paol to get him to falter. Then he produced his signature again, a ragged flare endangering his hair for a moment. But where the rest of them had gotten disgusted and stopped, Wolfram held his gaze on his signature for half a minute, and the perfect blossom flame was back, rock steady.

 

“Whoa,” said Axel, impressed. “Question, though - aren't you a healer? I thought healers all did blue spheres like Paol.”

 

Wolfram vanished the fire flower with a simple hand flourish. “Fire healer. We're not very common. The blue stamens show the healing element within the flame. Takes a lot more training than a pure healer - the harm/heal dual nature is hard to control.” He looked ruefully at Paol. “I've probably got another decade before I can do what you can as a healer.”

 

Paol countered, “But when you do…”

 

Wolfram shrugged. “It's hard to compare. True healers don't have to study so damned hard. Anyway, our goal here is to teach you focus. So, more ridiculous looking exercises. But I promise you, by the end of today, you will have better focus. And with better focus, better control, and more power.”

 

They practiced focus exercises until lunch, then Axel disappeared to meet Sergeant Buford. The squad pocketed extra food for him. Only later in the afternoon, while everyone was sitting in a circle, each juggling three points mentally, did Wolfram notice blood seeping through the back of Axel's shirt.

 

Wolfram tapped him out of the circle and told him to strip off the bloodied shirt. “Healing lashes isn't allowed, Wolfram,” said Axel quietly. “Don't mind about it - I knew I was earning them and willingly paid. Not your fault.”

 

Wolfram held him with his green gaze and soft smile. “I'm a gentleman, remember? This wound is interfering with your training. Strip the shirt or I'll scorch it.”

 

Wolfram swallowed, hard, watching Axel remove the shirt. Axel's facial features were pleasant enough - ordinary, with unruly curls of dark blond hair - but with the kind of infectious pleasure in other people that makes puppies irresistible. But his body… Axel was a strong youth, perfect abs over a narrow waist and rock-hard buns and legs, with chest and shoulders that could easily enfold a slighter youth like Wolfram. Enfold? Get it together, Wolfram, you're supposed to be teaching focus here, not losing it… But he couldn't ignore it anymore. Axel was clearly attracted to him, and the feeling was getting very, very mutual. And unfortunately in fire healing, passion came through clear as a bell. True healers healed with serenity. Fire healing manifested passion.

 

Axel turned his striped back to Wolfram, then looked over his shoulder as Wolfram hesitated. Wolfram centered himself, reached out, and put palm directly on the wound. Calling a touch like that chemistry would be a vast understatement. Axel startled a little, and gulped, turned to look away. Fingers of fire lapped across his shoulders, along his spine, curled around his rib cage, caressed his belly. In a minute, it was over. Wolfram removed his hand.

 

Axel, sweating, blew out his breath, unaware that he'd been holding it. He breathed a half-laugh, and tried to pass it off with a joke. “That was quick - do I have to leave my shirt off -“ and stopped as he felt his back, then chest. In that brief erotic sensation, Wolfram hadn't sped the healing of the lashes. They were gone, along with every scar from every stripe of Axel's military career. “Gone!?” he blurted out loud, spinning to stare at Wolfram in amazement. The other youths looked up and around at his outburst.

 

Wolfram wouldn't meet his eye in public. “Back to practice, everybody.”

 

In late afternoon, Wolfram told everyone to goof off for ten minutes, take a walk or lie in the sun, or whatever they did to unwind. When they reconvened, he asked Pyotr to again show his signature. The column of dirt was twice as high, twice as thick, but more tellingly, it didn't so much as shiver. Everyone else eagerly tried their signatures, and each was delighted by the quality change in just one day.

 

“Alright, there's anti-homework,” Wolfram said in closing. “If you'd done your signatures before goofing off, the results wouldn't have been as impressive. You need to kick back and not-practice, not-strain, not-review what we've done today. Just relax until we take it up again tomorrow. I, um,” I don't live in a barracks, “I'd read a book, take a bath, write a letter, paint…”

 

“Poker game'd be good,” suggested Axel. “Or just a couple beers at the tavern.”

 

Wolfram smiled at him gratefully. “Right. Anything but focus practice. And from now on, we'll break the focus practice with a couple hours sword practice after lunch. I forced the pace a bit today, because I wanted you to see real results. But generally, forcing is counter-productive. So, kick back and enjoy your evening.” And they cheered.

 

Back in Axel's room, Wolfram paused uncertain. Should he grab his clothes and go as-is? Should he join them in the mess hall again? Should he…

 

“Wolfram?” said Axel. “I hope you're not offended, but… I'm really attracted to you, and I was wondering… those flames earlier… is there any chance…” He put his hands tentatively on Wolfram's upper arms. “Any chance the feeling is…?”

 

“Mutual,” breathed Wolfram. And raised his stunning emerald green eyes to meet Axel's kind hazel ones, and moved his mouth just a little closer… Axel pulled him the rest of the way for a strong, deep kiss, enfolding Wolfram in his arms just as he'd imagined that afternoon.

 

“Change here,” breathed Axel in his ear, licking the lobe in a way that sent sensation piercing straight down the center of Wolfram's torso. “I promise not to touch below the belt - not tonight, anyway.” And they ended up eating alone together at the tavern, because even touching, exploring, tasting only above the belt, they were altogether too late for evening mess.

 

-oOo-

 

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