The room was cold and empty, the covers weren't warm, the air was stagnate, and there was no one there. Wolfram pulled the sheets that seemed so soft so many other nights back up around his sheets and turned on his side away from the glaring moon and stars outside. Sleep, in all her precious hospitality refused the blonde his must desired rest. He threw the sheets over his head, only to toss them back up and shove himself to his feet.

"Mu-Murata!" It was Yuuri's voice. " I can't do this, not right now, someone could come in and see…"

"Who's going to come in, Shibuya? They won't be looking for you for a while. I told them I was taking you out."

"Yeah, but…"

"Oh come on, what's different here than back home?" Yuuri had apparently muttered something Wolfram couldn't hear through the door and Murata responded with an "oh."

"Either way though," Murata seemed to continue dragging their conversation, "take your shirt off."

Wolfram's eyes widene. But this could be a medical procedure, Wolfram nodded to himself as he stayed rooted in spot. Murata was not attempting to steal his fiancé.

"If you don't take it off, I'm going to make you take off more as penalty."

"I'm going, I'm going…I still don't like this game, Murata." Wolfram bust through the door just to see Murata leaning over, in his opinion much to close to the other black haired boy, and Yuuri pulling off a blue jacket that was, as Wolfram realized later, was his own. Yuuri and Murata turned to Wolfram in surprise that littered their faces. Yuuri reacted first.

"Wolfram! This isn't—"

"Cheater!" he had yelled it just as if it was any other time, but all those other times had been different. Those times he would have been made a fool of, this time, this time it was outright betrayal. This time, Yuuri was really having a relationship with someone, and who else but the Great Sage. Yet somehow that seemed to make sense, more sense than him going off with any other girl they'd met; even if Murata was another boy.

"No, this isn't—"

Wolfram stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The blonde soldier, pride cracking and stumbling along behind him, he retreated to an empty room in Blood Pledge Castle, taking enough care to lock the door behind him.

It had been hours since the afternoon. Emotions swirled together, shock, anger, depression, fear, anger and then just nothing. A blank empty void that seemed to lay on the other side of the bed Wolfram had just left. From the window, he glared at the side of the bed that still remained neatly made and untouched. Wolfram's eyes narrowed, only for him to return to the window with a soft sigh and blank gaze toward the emptiness of the night. So this is what it really felt like, this how it felt to be so weak. Wolfram scoffed at himself, a trained soldier of such high stature, and he was moping in a room that wasn't his.

Yuuri, complete with his jacket, curled into a ball, hugging his knees and letting the tears soak into the dark fabric. Why Wolfram? Why right then? And why that horrible game? He had attempted to follow the blonde, but his significant other had disappeared too quickly. He swore to himself he would never play that game, that strip poker, again. He still didn't see why Murata liked it so much, they could still play with their clothes and without money. This game, he had lost too much. The maou grit his teeth and shook his head quietly, letting the tears flow freely. Murata silently picked up the cards and put them into the cardboard case. Yuuri had been right, there was a difference here: Yuuri had a fiancé, a very jealous fiancé who wouldn't even know what strip poker was.

The next morning, the breakfast table was empty of the young maou, and Wolfram's quiet disposition dared anyone to ask what was wrong or to search for the boy. And much to everyone's surprise, and somewhere in the back of Wolfram's mind he noted, Yuuri joined them late, just as the food was being laid upon the table. Quietly, he took his seat at the head of the table, down casting his eyes from the sour green of the boy at his right.

The table ate in silence, hearing the clanking of pots and pans from the kitchen they'd never heard before until Wolfram stood up abruptly and announced his departure.

"Wait—Wolfram."

The blonde turned on his heel to face the black haired boy. "Yes, your majesty?" It was flat and lifeless. Yuuri grimaced.

He stood from the table and walked over to blue clad blonde and followed him outside.

Upon reaching the fountain in the courtyard, Wolfram stopped. "Don't you have studies to attend, Yuuri?" It was more of a statement than a question, and the blonde did not bother to face Yuuri.

"I can explain about yesterday, Murata—"

"I don't need an explanation. Your majesty may do as he wishes." Wolfram continued walking.

"Please, Wolfram, hear me out, it was just a game—"

"Am I a game to you, Yuuri?" Wolfram turned to look at the maou. His disposition betrayed no emotion, his eyes were clear, and no ice slept there.

"No, of course not."

"Don't come back, Yuuri." And Wolfram pushed the boy into the fountain and strode away.

Somehow, that didn't seem as difficult as Wolfram had thought it would be. This time, he was truly done, he had been pursuing Yuuri relentlessly, and just when he thought they were on common ground, Yuuri goes and does something stupid like having a fling with Murata. And if it wasn't so hard, then why was he crying?

He dressed his horse, and climbed with the grace he'd trained to achieve into the saddle. The horse would be his get away. And together, they trotted away from Blood Pledge Castle, away from Yuuri, away from Murata, and away from the troubles that haunted him there.

The ride was quiet. No friendly jokes, no extra clip-clop from other horses, only the single padding of a lone horse and its rider.

So how long had it been, two years since Yuuri came first came to ShinMakoku? Two years that were wasted, two completely useless years that had just been flushed away with a "game." And if he was so collected, then why did he feel so compelled to keep riding away. This depression flickered into anger. Of all people to cheat on him with, Yuuri chooses another boy from his own world. If that wasn't a dagger to his pride, Wolfram wasn't sure what would be. Well it didn't matter anyway. He didn't need Yuuri.

The evening ran by with each keeping to their own, each pretending for their own reasons that Wolfram wasn't missing, everyone but Yuuri. The water hadn't swirled, it had merely splashed and left him a soaking mess when Wolfram pushed him, and for a few hours he had blankly sat on the edge, with Wolfram's words playing over and over again. He doesn't want me back.

Wet and shivering, Yuuri retreated to their room—his room, to undress, climbing into his blue pajamas and clinging to Wolfram's jacket he'd been wearing earlier. It smelt like him, rich and full of spices. Crystal tears turn the jacket to an even darker shade of blue, and the maou fell asleep.

It was just after dinner, perhaps by an hour or so, when Wolfram walked into Blood Pledge Castle. And, merely by habit, he walked into Yuuri's room. He took he uniforms and nightgown from the dresser, only to realize as he was leaving, that Yuuri was clinging to the coat of one of his uniforms.

Setting everything down, he walked over took it from the boy. Yuuri woke up.

"Wolfram?" Jacket in hand, he merely looked at Yuuri. "You're back."

"I am, and I am going to my room to sleep."

"But you always sleep here."

"I slept there because I was your fiancé. That is not my place, Yuuri. Talk to Murata."

Yuuri looked at Wolfram with a mix of shock and sadness. "Wolfram, please…"

Wolfram took the rest of his clothes and shut the door behind him.

So this is how it would end. Wolfram would leave, Yuuri would cry, Greta would wonder, Conrad would know, and Murata would questioned.

In the room, behind the door, Wolfram left Yuuri, left his memories, and left any emotion he would experience for a long time yet. Of course, the engagement wasn't broken, and it would be kept for appearance sake, but there would be no relationship. There may even be a wedding ceremony, and both would dress nicely and play their parts, but it would be all acting. And the last years would be discarded as waste, and the next would be filled with only the chain linked bond of a slap to the left cheek. A slap that Wolfram would regret ever letting occur.

Owari

Well tell me what you think. Also, if you didn't like that as an ending, or you thought it didn't fit, or you just want to read the alternate ending, it's attatched as another chapter, but it's really just an alternate ending… And it picks up right where this one leaves off, it's like an addition. Tell me what you think. .