Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Tomo Takabayashi and various publishers and studios. The poem is Devotion by Robert Frost. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warning: AU from the OVA.

Pairing: Yuuri/Wolfram eventually.

Note: Many thanks to BloodRaevynn who has kindly betaed this story, hence making it far, far better than before.

Lighthouse

Prolog

On the shore on the North part of Shin Makoku, there is an old lighthouse. When Wolfram was a child, his father used to take him there in their few holidays together. While Lord Bielefeld's interest was lying on the village near the shore, little Wolfram's attention was invariably drawn to the lighthouse.

Once, when it was new, it must have been a beautiful lighthouse, with its white wall and reddish brown roof. But, even at that time, with its paint fading out, he thought it was amazing that a simple tower could prevent hundreds of ships from drowning. Until one day, after noticing his son's fascination with the lighthouse, his father brought him there at night, to watch it at work.

If he thought the shore as beautiful at day, it was nothing compared with how it looked like at night. The village was a few miles away, and at night, the only noises on the shore were those of the waves crashing against the rocks which were scattered along the beach and the cries of the occasional birds. His father pointed out the small ships in the distance, which were relying on the lighthouse to guide them; but the only thing little Wolfram noticed was how sad it was ─ that although the lighthouse gave out light, its own base was so dark.

Supposing someone asked him to describe Yuuri, he would say that Yuuri was like that lighthouse. Just like the deceptively plain light house, although he seemed like an ordinary boy, Yuuri had succeeded on bringing peace between human and mazoku. He had also destroyed Soushu, which even Shinou had failed to do. But the main trait he shared with the lighthouse was the way it indiscriminately shared its light – Yuuri always had kindness, trust, and forgiveness to be given to anybody.

Unfortunately, just like the light house, Yuuri had a blind spot: He couldn't stand to see anybody in distress, be it someone he knew personally or a stranger, unless it was Wolfram -- Yuuri could 

forgive anybody, no matter whether it was a friend or an enemy, except him. While the lighthouse, being so tall, couldn't help failing to spare light for its own base, Wolfram did not know whether Yuuri created his blind spot intentionally – however unconsciously – or not.

Wolfram sighed -- it didn't matter anymore.

Once, the castle was his home. He missed it dreadfully every time he went away. Yet, now, it didn't seem important anymore. He had lost Yuuri. He had lost his magic. Even his brothers were angry with him.

He took his bag and cast one last look around the room. He was born here and grew up here.

When he was a kid, Gwendal used to read him bedtime stories while he was lying on the very bed his bag had been resting on before. He would try to emulate the characters' voices, and failed miserably, yet Wolfram had tried desperately to keep his eyes open until the end of the stories. At that time, Gwendal was his hero and could do no wrong.

One day, after a day out that had ended up raining, Wolfram had caught a fever. Conrad sat up all night in the wooden chair beside the bed, changing his compresses and holding his hand. Wolfram remembered that even in his delirious state, he had known that the warm hands belong to someone who would protect him; after all, Conrad had promised so, and he had never lied. That was before he knew about Conrad's father – knowledge that, on some days, he wished he never possessed.

He could still see his mother, hugging him from behind in front of the big, ornate mirror near the door, and informing him how alike both of them were. It delighted her, so he never told her how afraid he was of turning into her.

Sometimes, he'd hoped he would also have memories of Yuuri here; yet it was more likely that Yuuri didn't even know that this room existed. Yuuri thought Wolfram had no room of his own and Wolfram never corrected this opinion, even encouraged it, for fear of getting thrown out.

He willed the tears not to come out and opened the door – no use dwelling on the past. He must hurry so that when they awoke he would already be on the sea.