Work Text:
Enter the Gingerbread House
Author’s Note: A fic commemorating the release of the Gingerbread House card, after years of waiting. Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters series.
Pairing: Established Mokuba x Leon.
Summary:
Kaiba Mokuba moves in with Leonhart von Schroider. And their first place together is…a gingerbread house?
“Welcome home, Herr Mokuba.”
As he ritt on horseback through the columned, mirrored promenade leading to the courtyard, Kaiba Mokuba made a conscious choice not to stop and smell the roses. He still hadn’t gotten used to riding or the etiquette surrounding his new circumstances, and Siegfried’s garden and cadre of maids served a constant, thorny reminder.
The latter were akin to the Valkyries of Norse legend and Siegfried’s Deck. Proud, statuesque, and a million times better at riding horses than him. Mokuba felt that if he spoke to them out of turn, he’d have a war on his hands, and they stood with such unyielding, spotless poise, he feared a polished punch from one of their fists infused with advanced training might shatter his sternum on impact.
Then, they’d bring in towels to soak up the mess afterwards, scouring the pillars and marble clean with antique brushes and lots of product. Siegfried would go on drinking his tea from his outdoor lounge chair on the castle battlements, gloating a Kaiba finally received his comeuppance, and do something ridiculously ostentatious like crack the petals of a freshly cut flower on his computer screen.
While he assented that is how Siegfried would realistically react, a certain someone often chuckled about Mokuba having a wild imagination. One was in all probability a prerequisite, to imagine a warrior class of housekeepers with military and secret service backgrounds, breaking the competition’s bones. Or to imagine Blue-Eyes White Dragon tapping at his window at night, there to take him on a flight through the sky.
This certain someone possessed a more robust imagination than Mokuba’s, and was attracted to him for that very reason. Though, that wasn’t the sole reason by any stretch of the imagination, of course. There were others.
Mokuba was not unaccustomed to the extravagances extended by wealth. His brother piloted a jet in the image of his prized Blue-Eyes White Dragon, travelled with a briefcase full of rare cards, and if he disapproved of an employee’s work, he could simply fire that person and have them expeditiously replaced. Seto taught Mokuba to never be ashamed of their hard-earned money.
Seto’s mercilessness also informed Mokuba’s wariness of Siegfried’s staff. His brother had a mean flick of the wrist, and thrown properly, even a card may be deployed as a deadly weapon.
But compared to Mokuba’s lifestyle, the von Schroiders were another beast entirely. They lived a narcissistic, upper-crust career of vulgar luxury, demanding unremitting, tangible recognition. Glittering in a grandiose palace that begged layfolk to cow before their aristocratic, self-reinforced superiority.
Seriously. The only thing the Golden Castle of Stromberg boasted over the von Schroiders’ main residence was exactly that: It was solid gold. In every other respect – size, stables, secret passes, spire count – the enisled plot had it beat.
And while the youngest heir, Leon, neither neatly embraced nor rejected the comforts his privilege rendered him, he subconsciously adopted the part. Even now, at seventeen, Mokuba frequently saw Leon lying among piles of his cards and treasured fairy tale books from his childhood like a fat cat swimming in pools of cash, pulled straight out of an American cartoon.
Moving in together was always going to be a major adjustment.
The Schroider bloodline’s commitment to its public cachet would not allow its descendants to deviate from their assigned roles. Yet, since Leon successfully convinced Chairman Pegasus to partner with the company and thus engineered the business’ comeback, his illiberal (and if they were being honest, at moments abusive) mom made concessions to accommodate her son’s fantastical wishes.
Apparently, his dream involved the construction of a life-scale lebkuchenhaus (gingerbread house) on his family’s land, beneath the nadir of its tallest tower.
Leon wasn’t joking around. Heart of a true Duelist. Hazel eyes of an idealist.
Mokuba surrendered his steed, Charity, to a butler.
Fittingly, after admiring the candy cane picket fence and cotton candy tree out front and turning the gumball doorknob to the rent-free dwelling they shared, Mokuba found his knight in shining armour decked out on, well, his Deck. All he was missing was a frilly pink bonnet.
“Why Grandma, what big ears you have!”
The wolf wakened not.
“Did you prick your finger on a spinning wheel spindle or something? Guess there’s no better option.” Mokuba immoderately kissed him, giving him that sweet water of life.
Leon smiled into true love’s kiss.
“JERK! You were awake?”
“Wasn’t asleep for a hundred years, that’s for sure!”
“Your inner geek is on display, Leonhart.”
“Darling, please.” Likely, he’d been talking to Rebecca Hopkins. “We can hack a firewall in less time than it takes to prep the plane. We’re both geeks! And Leonhart? I told you, ‘Leon’ is fine.”
“Keep it up and I’ll start calling you ‘Wilson.’ Your mom wouldn’t be happy you changed your name again.”
Thirteen months ago, if you said to him that he’d be rooming with the next in line to Kaiba Corporation’s rival multinational’s kingdom, Mokuba would have thought you were crazy. Seto, he’d have launched defamation proceedings, and locked the smear jobbers in an iron cage.
But wasn’t this how the greatest love story ever penned played out? Two households that couldn’t get along, and a pair of willful lovers who flouted the bad blood between them?
“Do that and she’ll forbid us from raising kids. Our tale will end in tragedy,” Leon reproved.
“Awful presumptuous to be discussing kids.”
“Seven kid goats!”
“Fair warning, if any one of them grows up a giant killer, or a giant, or nearly eaten by a witch, or hexed into firewood by a witch, I’m suing for custody!”
They laughed.
“On the subject of Mother, she has requested we kick off the midsummer ball.”
“As long as you have me back before midnight! Or my carriage will revert to a pumpkin!” Mokuba fussed.
“My word as a gentleman, no lowly prince is wooing you away with a glass slipper on my watch!”
“And no celery sticks!”
“Is that a direct order, Mr. Vice President?” the German humoured him.
“You bet your last gold star coin it is!”