ANTHOLOGY Time


Disclaimer: KKM does not belong to me. This story was written for fun. Just enjoy!

Special thanks to soypants for beta-reading!

Warning: Fluff. Might induce a severe case of fangirl mania. Proceed with caution.


Mirror, Mirror

(Part 1 of 2)

~o0o~

It all started with a broken mirror.

Technically, it really wasn't a mirror at all, but a huge bowl, much like one used in any restaurant to serve ramen, or salad, or a large serving of soup. It looked pretty ordinary by all means, and there was virtually nothing about it that would inspire the least amount of interest or awe from any of those who had seen it. It was one of those things that would sit inconspicuously on a dusty shelf in a dusty room for years on end, without any eye ever straying to it. And given its plain exterior, how could anybody have guessed that it actually possessed a wondrous magical capacity?

You see, this mirror – which wasn't a mirror at all – could control time.

As with all magical objects, nobody could adequately explain how this mirror came about with its power. There were legends, of course, and theories, and various suppositions put about by an entire generation of sages, but still, its origin was left frustratingly unexplained.

Through the years, as it changed from one hand to another, the mirror was used, misused, abused, shunned, coveted, stolen, sold, and then stolen again, until it finally came to the possession of a powerful monarch – the Demon King – whereupon the mirror was admired, displayed, tested, and then used some more.

When the Demon King passed away, all his possessions were transferred to a spare room somewhere in the castle, and it was there that the mirror stayed for many years, gathering dust in some corner until it was eventually forgotten.

It was some centuries later, during the reign of the 27th Demon King, Shibuya Yuuri, that the mirror was rediscovered in one of the obscure rooms of the castle, amongst various ancient items that had once belonged to the king's predecessors.

The Demon King could hardly forget his first encounter with the mirror. Only moments after finding it and hearing what it was from his irate fiancé (whom he had been running away from but had been unable to shake off), he suddenly found himself some fifty-odd years into the past.

His unlikely adventure should have alerted him to the fact that he was dealing with an object that was both immensely wonderful and dangerous. Time was something that mortals shouldn't trifle with; thus, an object that can control time should definitely be handled with caution, or even not handled at all. But as young and trusting as the Demon King was, he found no cause to be wary of the mirror. In fact, after that short escapade, the Demon King merely stowed the mirror back in a coffer in the Treasure Room, where it lay for many months, undisturbed.

The mirror was brought out again by the servants during the spring cleaning, in preparation for a ball which was to take place in Blood Pledge Castle later in the week. Nobody could tell exactly what happened, what with the maids scurrying about the room and the flurry of activities that took place afterwards, but one thing was certain: somebody forgot to return the mirror to where it once was. How else would one explain the presence of the mirror on top of the treasure chest instead of inside it? How else would it be at that precise spot when the Demon King and his fiancé, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld, entered the room? How else would the mirror be there at that exact spot when Lord Wolfram, angered by a remark the Demon King had made about their engagement, gesticulated wildly with one hand, thereby knocking it over?

Nobody could tell for sure how the mirror ended up there, but it wasn't really important now. What was important was what happened next.

The mirror fell, and a millisecond later, it made contact with the pavement, where it cracked loudly, then shattered into several irregular pieces. The Demon King and his fiancé, both too horrified by what just happened, remained frozen where they stood, just staring at what was left of the mirror.

Then, Lord Wolfram made a mistake. He bent down to touch one piece.

Time is something that mortals shouldn't trifle with, so an object that controls time – and a broken one at that – is indisputably too dangerous to be handled so casually.

Lord Wolfram knew this undoubtedly, but in the spur of the moment, he acted without thinking. His fingers touched the tip of a shard, where it instantly shimmered, then shone a bright yellow before his surprised eyes. A second later, much to his and his fiancé's alarm, Lord Wolfram was shining too.

And then, in the snap of a finger, he was gone.

And that was how everything started. With a broken mirror.

~o0o~

The last thing Wolfram remembered was the sound of something breaking, and for a confused moment, he thought that it might have been his heart. After all, Yuuri – that good-for-nothing, idiotic, thick-headed wimp – had just told him that he didn't want to be engaged to him anymore.

Wolfram frowned, struggling to remember how it all began. There was a ball at Blood Pledge Castle and…there was a girl. Of course, there was a girl, he thought furiously, a girl whom Yuuri had been chatting merrily with for about an hour since the party started. Wolfram wouldn't put up with it, of course, and after downing the contents of his seventh glass of wine, he strode towards the happy couple, planted himself firmly between them, and asserted his right as the king's fiancé.

True, he might have been too abrasive, and yes, he might have looked like he wanted to choke the girl to death, but was it his fault that the girl burst into tears? Was it his fault that she turned deathly pale and nearly keeled over? In his opinion, he hadn't been that frightening at all.

But Yuuri didn't share his opinion. Yuuri had chided him, very loudly, in public at that, about his rude behavior, and everything just went downhill from there.

Wolfram could hardly remember what took place next. Yuuri had pulled him out of the gathering, and somehow, they ended up in the Treasure Room. It was there that Yuuri shook his head at him, looking more disappointed than angry, and said, "You know, this is one of those moments when I think that maybe—"

"Maybe what?" Wolfram had snarled, the bottom falling out of his stomach. His heart had started to pound agonizingly at the severity of the other boy's expression.

"Maybe we should end this now."

Wolfram had no doubt in his mind what the other boy meant by "this." He gritted his teeth to keep his voice from shaking. "Fine! Have it your way! It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

Yuuri looked exasperatedly at him, taking a step forward, arms raised in a consoling manner. "Wolf—"

"Don't touch me!" he had yelled, moving to slap the hand away. But as he did so, he…he had touched something…accidentally toppling it over…

Something was going to break.

Something was breaking.

Something broke.

And that was the last thing he remembered.

~o0o~

When Wolfram opened his eyes, it was to a scene that was not quite what he had expected.

He was in bed, clad in an unfamiliar nightgown, sprawled face-down on a pillow that looked totally new to him. He lifted his head slightly, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun against the window. The bright gold rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains indicated that it must be mid-morning already.

Wolfram pushed himself up, blinking in confusion. Did he fall asleep? How on earth did he end up in bed? Wasn't he in the Treasure Room just a while back? Wasn't he just talking to…to…

Yuuri!

Wolfram's eyes widened at the memory of what had been said between them. Did that really happen? Did he just agree to the dissolution of his engagement with Yuuri? And…and did he just…?

Oh Shinou…

Wolfram's head pounded, the sound of something crashing to the floor echoing harshly inside his head. He massaged his temples, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Did he also just break the Demon Mirror? As in actually destroy an ancient magical artifact? Gwendal and Gunter would have his head for that. He wouldn't put it past them to have him arrested for what they might deem as a truly horrific act, no matter how much Wolfram would claim that it was an accident.

Wolfram cursed under his breath, punching a pillow in frustration, noting as he did so that it was a different color and design than the ones he had used the night before. Had the maids changed the linens and the blankets? He shook his head. He had a lot of things to deal with without having to worry about the state of the bedcovers—

—which he shouldn't be worried about at all after this day, Wolfram thought grimly. With the engagement rescinded, he had no right to sleep, much less step inside the Demon King's bedroom, ever. Yuuri shouldn't have brought him here.

The wimp must be feeling guilty, Wolfram guessed. Maybe his former fiancé just wanted him to spend one more night here, for old times' sake. But then again, maybe it wasn't even Yuuri's idea to bring him back to the bedroom last night. Maybe Wolfram had passed out in a drunken stupor somewhere and somebody else – one of his brothers, perhaps – had brought him here, and as usual, Yuuri had been too cowardly to protest, or tell everyone that they were no longer engaged. Wolfram smiled bitterly at that possibility and how very likely it was to be true.

He slumped back on the bed, shoulders sagging helplessly at the thought of facing everyone today. Maybe Yuuri had finally told them about their break-up. And maybe he had also told everyone that Wolfram had broken the Demon Mirror in a fit of jealous anger. That would be a nice bit of gossip for the maids and servants to talk about.

Wolfram sighed glumly, lying back down, taking in the feel of the bed and the sight of the room for one last time. The maids really did a lot of rearrangement in just a night's time, he thought, registering the sight of a new divan set in one corner, and a large, antiquated mirror situated right next to it. Wolfram turned, lying on his back. Even the bed itself looked new…

Wolfram let out another sigh, turning once more to his side. Several strands of hair fell right over his eyes and he moved to brush them back. He struggled with it for a bit, wondering with some irritation why he had allowed his hair to grow this long… He paused, one hand frozen in mid-air. It was then that he finally noticed that something else had changed.

His hair was longer, abnormally so, to a length that he could not have achieved in just a single night. He got up, letting his hand slide down the mane of hair that flowed down his back, ending an inch below his shoulder blades. Wolfram froze for two or three seconds, then he leapt out of bed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get to the mirror.

His reflection was completely unfamiliar. The Wolfram in the mirror was taller by a few inches, with long, blond hair that extended down and curled slightly by his shoulders. He looked older. More mature, he thought, pleased at the change.

He regarded himself in wonder, turning so that he could inspect himself from all angles. It was like seeing a preview of what he'd look like in a few years' time. Wolfram nodded in satisfaction. And then he caught himself.

'What am I thinking?' he screeched mentally. This was not something to be pleased about! This was bizarre! And confusing! And downright terrifying! He looked around wildly. Where was he? What was going on?

Wolfram stepped back, then he ran and pushed the bedroom door open. His mind was about to explode, and he desperately needed to see anything – anything – familiar at all. Anything to pull him back to reality.

Sadly, that was not about to happen.

~o0o~

"Your Majesty? What's wrong? Er…do you realize that you're out here in your…nightclothes?"

Wolfram stumbled back. He recognized the face of the person who had spoken; he immediately knew his voice. But everything about the man was different from what Wolfram remembered.

"D-Dacascos?" he said tentatively.

"Er...yes, Your Majesty," said the man, standing on attention.

Wolfram took a step forward. It was Dacascos alright. He looked and sounded like the Dacascos Wolfram knew. The only problem was, this Dacascos wasn't bald.

"Is there a problem, Your Majesty?" asked the man nervously.

Slowly, Wolfram reached out to pat the man's head, just to convince himself that it really was hair he was seeing atop the man's once-barren scalp.

"Your Majesty?" Dacascos repeated uncertainly.

"Since when did you grow out your hair?" Wolfram blurted out, failing to register anything else other than that information.

The man looked surprised at the question but he answered just the same, "Just the previous year, Your Majesty." He cleared his throat self-consciously. "Don't you remember, Your Majesty? You said that you were getting tired of seeing me…er…hairless for the past nine years…"

Nine years. Your Majesty. Wolfram didn't know which to react on first. He felt dizzy.

"Your Majesty?" Dacascos said again, blushing slightly as he stared at Wolfram. "You look pale, Your Majesty…"

"I'm fine…" Wolfram said unconvincingly. "I'll…I'm…I'm going back to bed." Yes, that would be the best course of action, he promised himself in a vain effort to calm his frayed nerves. He must be dreaming. He'd go back to bed, and when he'd wake up, he'd look the same, and Dacascos would be bald again and everything would be back to normal.

"Er…they're expecting you down at the courtyard, Your Majesty," said Dacascos in slight protest. "You…you'd go, wouldn't you? The king and your brothers have just returned. They'd want to see you for sure…"

Wolfram perked up. "Where are they?"

"In the courtyard—"

Wolfram did not let the man finish. He strode past him, intent on getting to the bottom of this unsettling situation. But a few steps away, he stopped and looked down at himself, suddenly aware how positively vulgar he looked right then. His nightgown was very flimsy, not something that he'd normally put on, prompting him to wonder how he had ended up wearing it.

He turned red, conscious all of a sudden at his state of dress. He fled back to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. Dream or no dream, he wouldn't make a spectacle of himself by marching half-naked and bare-footed out into the open.

Breathing deeply, Wolfram strode to the closet, stopping short when he saw what it contained. He twisted around, making a full three-hundred-sixty-degree turn before accepting the reality of what he was seeing. The dizziness returned and Wolfram had to fling out an arm to the nearby wall to steady himself. He stared at all the fabrics and capes and breeches and boots in utter disbelief.

A large number of it was black – the royal color.

Dacascos' voice suddenly rang through his head – "Don't you remember, Your Majesty? – and Wolfram slumped down to the floor.

Impossible.

~o0o~

There are two possibilities, Wolfram thought. Two possibilities. Having discounted the likelihood that he was merely dreaming, Wolfram was left with two possibilities.

The first – which he didn't want to believe at all costs because it was too pathetic – was that he had gone mad. Maybe that break-up with Yuuri had made him lose his sanity, and what he was now experiencing was an offshoot of his deranged mind.

The second – which he was more likely to believe because it was less embarrassing – was that he was somehow transported to the future by that…accident…he had with the Demon Mirror. Wolfram wasn't sure whether the Mirror had that capacity but there couldn't be any other explanation, could there?

Right, he told himself. You can't stay on the fence forever. You have to decide what to believe and act on it. If that was the case, then…he'd rather believe that he was in the future. Yes, that's right. The future. From what Dacascos had told him, nine or ten years had passed since that night at the Treasure Room.

Wolfram relaxed a bit, breathing a little easier, but then, more concerns arose in view of this predicament. If he was in the future, what was happening? Where was everyone? Greta? His brothers? His mother? Yuuri? Why was he in the Demon King's room? Why does he have a closet-full of clothes in the royal color?

Wolfram swore under his breath, leaning his head on his knees. How in Shinou's name would he be able to get back? Would he even be able to?

"Wolf?"

Wolfram heard the bedroom door opening and closing. There were footsteps across the floor, and a moment later, someone was standing by the closet, towering over him. His eyes widened with recognition.

"Aren't you coming out yet?" asked the person who just came in. "That was rude, you know, not coming down to meet us. Everyone's been looking for you."

Wolfram's voice failed. He gawked at the man before him. He recognized him first because of the black eyes and hair, and the goofy, lopsided grin he was giving him. But he looked so strange…so foreign… and yet there was something so familiar about him at the same time. He looked like the boy Wolfram had always loved, and yet there was something so different in the way he held himself. He had an air of confidence and authority that hadn't been there before.

"Hey," said Yuuri, surveying him with a worried eye. "Are you okay? Are you still mad at me?"

This man is Yuuri. He'd grown, Wolfram noted. He was taller, too, maybe slightly taller than Wolfram was right then. He looked the same, just older. He was also more muscular, broader at the shoulders, and he seemed infinitely stronger than he had been nine or ten years ago. Wolfram noticed a long scar on his right forearm and he wondered whether this Yuuri had finally been in combat. Somehow, he couldn't imagine the young, gentle Yuuri he'd known in the midst of an armed confrontation.

"Wolf?" Yuuri repeated, falling to one knee to look him in the eye. He looked apologetic, as though he had done something wrong. "I know I shouldn't have left before sorting things out between us, but you knew how it was. I can't keep the human ambassadors waiting, can I?"

Wolfram just looked at him, uncomprehending. Yuuri sighed, lifting a careful hand to caress his cheek.

"Look, I know you don't like getting left out of our trip, but somebody has to stay here and keep things afloat. We can't both be out there. You said it yourself before – it's too dangerous for both of us to leave the capital." He looked at Wolfram with a pained expression. "I just wanted you to stay here where I know that you'd be safe, you know?"

Wolfram didn't understand a single word, but he forced himself to respond. "I'm fine."

"Wolf…"

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Really."

Yuuri looked like he did not believe him, but he did not pursue the topic. He smiled and extended his hand. "Okay…so, will you come out now?"

"You go ahead," he answered, refusing to stare too long into Yuuri's eyes. "I'll join you later."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Wolfram nodded, gesturing helplessly to the selection of clothes in front of him. "I…I have to decide what to wear."

It was a lousy excuse, but Yuuri seemed to buy it. Chuckling, he leaned closer, trapping Wolfram against the wall, and laughed. "Everything looks good on you," he said fondly, then added in a strange tone, "but nothing looks even better."

Wolfram flushed at the comment, and his first instinct was to yell at the man for saying something so mortifying. But before he could react, Yuuri closed the gap between them and claimed his lips in a long, searing kiss.

Wolfram forgot how to breathe.

~o0o~

Wolfram found out a long while later that he and Yuuri were married – had apparently been so for seven years now. If he had known earlier, then Yuuri's actions might have made a little more sense to him. If he had known, then he might have reacted a little more differently, a little more appropriately. But he didn't know anything, and back then, when Yuuri had kissed him, Wolfram felt a momentary tingle of pleasure before it was all overcome with unease. Then one of Yuuri's hands crawled up his leg, lingering along the inside of his thigh, and Wolfram's anxieties quickly morphed into full-blown panic. His own hands seemed to move of their own accord, and before he knew what he was doing, he had pushed Yuuri back.

With a maneuver that Wolfram had never imagined the young Demon King to be capable of, Yuuri steadied himself with one arm. Moving swiftly, he lurched back towards Wolfram, using his other hand to pin him back against the wall.

The unexpected limb gripping his shoulder had hurt, and crying out, Wolfram instinctively raised one hand, ready to retaliate. It took a few confused seconds for him to catch himself, and when he did, he could only stare at Yuuri in surprise and apprehension. Yuuri seemed just as surprised, and Wolfram realized with awe that his fiancé – former fiancé, he immediately corrected – had acted merely on reflex. Just like a trained soldier would when caught unprepared with a movement that had been construed as hostile, like being pushed away.

"What…was that about?" Yuuri asked, his face a confused palette of emotions. He released his grip but did not move away, dark eyes piercing straight into Wolfram's. "What's wrong?"

"Please leave," Wolfram said, barely able to get the words out. Yuuri's proximity was giving him a weird feeling, maybe because he still couldn't decide whether he liked being kissed and touched by this…this stranger. He added, flustered, "I-I need to be alone."

"Is something wrong?" the Demon King pressed. "Tell me, please…"

The entreaty made him feel worse. Wolfram bit his lip, then said softly, "Nothing's wrong. I just…can you just…leave me alone…for now?"

Yuuri regarded him with a long, searching look, eyebrows knitted together.

"Please!" Wolfram said, beseeching.

Reluctantly, Yuuri nodded and stood up. A few steps away, however, he stopped and asked, "You'd tell me if there was something wrong…right?"

Wolfram bobbed his head in assent, not because he agreed but because he didn't know what else to say.

Again, Yuuri did not look like he believed him.

~o0o~

Wolfram found himself in Shinou's Temple an hour after that encounter. If anybody could help him, he figured it should be the Original King who had centuries of knowledge and experience with matters as peculiar as his current situation.

The shrine maidens were unwilling to let him in, but fortunately, Ulrike happened to be passing by, and it was through her that Wolfram was allowed to enter. She hadn't changed a single bit, and for that at least, Wolfram felt glad. Glad that a part of the world he remembered remained the same.

Ulrike listened to his story, silent and unmoving, until he was done. And then she said thoughtfully, "So that wasthe disturbance we felt earlier. The Great One shall be pleased to finally have an explanation. So shall His Eminence."

"Are they both here?" asked Wolfram.

Ulrike nodded, then signaling to him, she led him to the main chamber, where Shinou and Murata stood in silence, looking as if they had been waiting for him to arrive.

Nobody spoke for a beat, and then Murata – an older, grave-looking Murata – sighed loudly. "You're in deep trouble, aren't you, Lord von Bielefeld?"

Wolfram could only nod in agreement.

~o0o~

They told him that the Demon Mirror's powers were beyond their control, but that they might find a way to send him back. It was Wolfram's turn to listen, but he was far from relieved at what he was told. Apparently, he needed to spend more time here with these…strangers…before he could return to his own time.

In contrast, Murata looked positive that things would turn out well. "It's going to be fine," said the sage. "I remember that ball you mentioned. You and Shibuya did leave the room, and I assume that you must have fought—"

"We did," Wolfram inserted, failing to hide the resentment in his tone. That was the night that Yuuri ended their engagement. Wimp, he thought crossly. And then he realized something. If their engagement had ended, why did he wake up in Yuuri's bedroom? Why did Yuuri – he blushed in remembrance of what took place in the closet – kiss him?

"You left after that," continued Murata. "And Shibuya was so distressed that he was literally jumping with joy when you returned." The sage paused, examining his face. "Er…do you know that you married him a few years after that night?"

Wolfram turned a bright red, then pale, then green. He said weakly, "I don't."

"Because it has yet to happen in your present," said Shinou, joining the conversation. "This is quite a situation you have gotten yourself into."

"But how do I get back?" Wolfram asked in frustration, wondering wryly whether he had to break another enchanted mirror. And speaking of mirrors… "What about the Demon Mirror?"

"It's in the Treasure Room, I guess," answered Murata. "To the best of my knowledge, it was not broken at all that night, and it still remains in excellent condition to this very day."

Wolfram couldn't believe it. "But how did that happen?"

"That is proof that you were able to return," Shinou responded simply. "Right before you broke it."

"So you see," chimed Murata cheerfully. "You don't need to worry." He smiled at Wolfram's disbelieving face. "It's all going to be fine."

~o0o~

It was nearly dusk, and after much persuasion, Wolfram finally agreed to return to the castle. He was instructed not to say anything to anyone, and was assured that Shinou would have a solution by the end of the week. Wolfram wanted to stay some more, but Murata had pointed out that the entire castle must be searching for him right now.

"Just act normally, and try not to do anything that'd give you away," Murata ordered. "And try not to ask so much about past events. You're not supposed to know about them."

"But how do I act normally if I don't know what has been happening for the past ten years?" argued Wolfram.

The sage had given him an enigmatic smile. "You'll figure something out."

And that was that.

Getting back to the castle undetected was virtually impossible.

Earlier, Wolfram had found a nondescript cloak stashed beneath all the black ones in the closet, and he used that to cover as much of himself as possible. It was a very poor disguise still, as he was recognized almost immediately by the people he met on his way back. He was hoping that he wouldn't bump into Yuuri or Gwendal or Conrad or anybody else he knew, but even that seemed to be too much to hope for. As he turned a corner on his way back to the royal bedroom, he promptly walked right into his eldest brother.

Gwendal looked nearly the same. Aside from the beard he was now sporting, he did not seem to have changed at all. He just looked more rugged, much like Wolfram's memories of Dan Hiri Weller. Wolfram wondered whether this Gwendal followed Conrad's father's footsteps and also traveled to the outlying provinces of the kingdom. He had the air of a world-weary traveler who had just returned from a taxing journey.

His brother regarded him with a frown. "There you are. Where have you been all day?"

Wolfram gulped, and he tried without much success to keep his voice steady. "I…I was out…"

"Out where?" demanded Gwendal. "We've been looking for you all afternoon!"

"I—"

"What is it about this time? Is this still about His Majesty's decision to travel without you to Dai Shimaron?"

"Brother—"

"I did not agree with it, either," snapped the man. "But he had made up his mind and I supported his decision. There is no taking anything back, so you had better get over it."

"I don't—"

"You cannot just keep throwing off tantrums when you cannot get what you want! For goodness' sake, you are not eighty anymore!" He fixed Wolfram with a critical eye. "Do you understand, Your Majesty?"

That was it. Wolfram matched the glare his brother was directing at him, finding it distinctly unfair that he was being chastised for something that he did not even know about. He wanted to scream that he did not belong here, that he had zero memories at all of the past nine or ten years. He clenched his fists tightly to control himself.

"Well?" Gwendal seemed to be waiting for an explanation.

Wolfram tensed. "Would that be all?"

He sounded mutinous and he knew it, but he didn't care any longer. All he wanted was to get out of his brother's sight, away from these people who all seemed so alien to him. Unknown.

Gwendal took a moment to answer, and taking advantage of that, Wolfram walked pass him, going as fast as his feet could carry him. Unfortunately, as he turned another corner, he walked straight into Conrad.

Conrad had grown out his hair, reverting to his pre-Rutenberg appearance. He looked worn-out, with two dark circles underlining his eyes. Wolfram thought he could use a good night's rest – or two.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said. "Where have you been all aft—?"

"I was out," he cut off, trying to get around the man. But dissatisfied with the response, Conrad stood firmly on the spot, blocking his way. Wolfram made a frustrated sound. "What do you want?"

"Are you alright?" Conrad asked, eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement. "I'm sorry that you had to be left behind. I didn't agree with Yuuri's decision to keep you out of the loop, but…"

That again. Wolfram narrowed his eyes. "I don't care about that."

That seemed to puzzle Conrad even more. "Oh? But I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong."

"Wolfram—"

"I need to go," Wolfram said determinedly. A door had opened somewhere down the corridor and he could see a lot of people filing out. He didn't want to be spotted by any of them.

"Yuuri was worried," said Conrad softly, stopping him on his tracks. "Did you two fight? He seemed so depressed when he came out of your room…"

Wolfram didn't want to answer. He tried once again to get away, but Conrad was still there, thwarting his attempts to escape. Across the corridor, the room emptied out to reveal the last person he wanted to encounter. Wolfram struggled to calm the wild pounding of his heart, but it still echoed loudly in his ears.

Yuuri had just exited the room, a brown-haired beauty walking by his side, one hand hooked on his elbow. The familiar surges of jealousy and protectiveness washed over him, but then he remembered that he shouldn't feel anything.

This wasn't Yuuri. This wasn't his Yuuri.

He realized vaguely that he had to move before Yuuri and his companion spot him, but Conrad was making it so difficult to flee. His brother asked curiously, "Aren't you going to talk to him? Even just to let him know that you're back? He was enormously worried when we you were nowhere to be found."

Wolfram ignored his brother's remarks. Conrad continued, "He wouldn't stay here for long, you realize that? He'd have to leave again for Caloria. You shouldn't waste this time by fighting…"

Wolfram was weary of the lectures, of the advices and admonishments that weren't meant for him. He muttered under his breath, "Get out of my way, Conrad."

"Stop acting like this," Conrad chided.

Wolfram shook his head impatiently. He really should go, right before Yuuri and the girl—

Too late. Yuuri had heard Conrad's voice and had turned to their direction. Noticing the king's gaze, his companion also did the same, beaming when her eyes met Wolfram's.

The girl waved at him, calling out his name, and Wolfram's breath hitched in his throat. The stunning, long-haired girl was Greta.

It was all he could take for one day. Wolfram felt the ground moving, as though the very earth was being pulled from right under his feet. He was falling. He could hear Conrad saying his name in alarm, but Wolfram couldn't make sense of anything anymore.

Wolfram closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall.

~o0o~

Wolfram woke up to a darkened room, the warmth of a body pressed against him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his torso in a protective embrace. He stiffened.

"Wolf?" Yuuri whispered, perhaps sensing that he was awake.

Wolfram did not answer. He did not dare move a muscle. His head was still spinning and he wasn't sure if he was ready for another confrontation.

"You scared us," said Yuuri conversationally. "But Gisela said that you were just worn out…" He paused, as though waiting for a response, but receiving none, he went on, "I'm so sorry for leaving you here, but…I just wanted you to be safe, you know." He snorted at his own comment. "Safe…yeah, right. I didn't think for a second that your duties would be as difficult. The others told me that you've been working yourself to death around here. So much for paperwork not being dangerous…"

There was a pause again, but Wolfram still did not make a sound. Yuuri sighed. "Wolf, you can't ignore me forever." The hand around Wolfram's waist tightened, drawing him closer. "I missed you. Didn't you miss me too?"

'How could I?' Wolfram mused. 'In my mind, I've only seen you a few hours ago, when you just broke my heart.' Murata's instructions came back to him. Act normally. Don't ask anything about the past. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling. That was easier said than done.

"Wolf?" Yuuri whispered again, planting a kiss on his hair. "Please don't stay mad at me."

Act normally, Wolfram told himself. Well, here goes nothing. He looked up, meeting Yuuri's eyes. His husband's eyes, Wolfram thought with some difficulty, unable to reconcile the concept of 'spouse' with the boy he had known ten years ago, to the man who now held him.

"I'm not mad," he said quietly. "I'm just tired."

The lines in Yuuri's face smoothened out. "That's nice to hear," he said, planting another kiss on Wolfram's forehead. He seemed so at ease with such physical displays of affection that Wolfram had to wonder how many years it took to transform the awkward Yuuri he'd known into this demonstrative version. One year? Three? More than four?

"I really missed you," Yuuri repeated, lifting Wolfram's chin up, his lips hovering enticingly over Wolfram's.

"There aren't any fire demons from where you just came from?" Wolfram asked offhandedly, attempting with all his might to act as though Yuuri's closeness wasn't affecting him.

"Not too many," Yuuri answered, breaking into a relieved smile. "And there aren't any blonds at all."

Wolfram actually managed a chortle this time, and despite the strain, he was already starting to relax within the confines of Yuuri's arms. And this time, when Yuuri pressed his lips against his, Wolfram managed to contain most of his anxieties to enable him to concentrate on the kiss for the very first time. Yuuri held it for a long moment, his tongue sliding in inside Wolfram's mouth.

The kiss ended, and they broke apart for what seemed to only be a second before Yuuri claimed his lips once again. He seemed so hungry for this, and it was starting to frighten Wolfram a little bit. With the way their bodies were crushed together, it was hard not to know what the Demon King wanted, and Wolfram wasn't sure if he could go that far.

When Yuuri clasped him by the shoulders and turned him on his back, Wolfram began to lose his composure. He struggled against the king's grip, not knowing how to avert what was to come without hurting Yuuri's feelings. With a stupendous effort, he pushed Yuuri off of him, but he only succeeded in reversing their positions, so that he was now on top, and an amused Yuuri ended beneath him.

Yuuri laughed, raising his head to offer Wolfram another kiss. Terrified and embarrassed at the same time, Wolfram held the king by the shoulders, shoving him roughly back to the bed. To his intense chagrin, Yuuri grinned at him, seeming to enjoy everything…seeming to wait for Wolfram to make another move…

Wolfram's mind spun with various distressing thoughts. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought of doing this with Yuuri, and it wasn't as if he wasn't tempted to throw all sense of modesty out the window right now and just lose himself in his future husband's arms, but the feeling that this was so wrong nagged viciously at the back of his mind. Yuuri, Wolfram thought, and as suddenly as that, he saw his fiancé's face…

"Maybe we should end this now."

Wolfram winced. How could he have forgotten that expression Yuuri had when he told him that he wanted to end their engagement?

"Wolf…"

Wolfram stared down at the Yuuri he was now with, and somehow, he could not stop himself from flinching. This does not feel right.

"Wolf…" Yuuri repeated, his expression glazed. His hands snaked up Wolfram's waist, trying to pull him down.

Wolfram slapped the hands off of him, and at the same time, lifted himself up. He inched away, trying to put as much distance between their bodies as he could. "I'm sorry…I can't do this…"

Yuuri sat up, looking reasonably confused and frustrated. "What's wrong?"

Wolfram swallowed hard. "I-I'm really tired…"

"What?"

"I'm…" He wanted to think of another excuse, but his mind had stopped working, so he just repeated, "I'm tired."

"Tired?" Yuuri echoed in disbelief, giving him a curious look. "What are you talking about?"

"Tired doesn't have any other meaning, does it?" Wolfram asked brusquely. He didn't mean to sound so unkind, but he didn't know how else to deal with this without fueling himself with anger.

"Oh…" said Yuuri, freezing, looking like he could not believe what he was hearing, obviously stung at the implied rejection.

Wolfram felt awful all at once, and he opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn't quite get any word out. "I'm sorry," he whispered instead, so softly that he wasn't sure if Yuuri even heard him.

"I see," said Yuuri, staring at him. He stood up and grabbed a robe from the nightstand. "So much for not being mad, huh?" he asked rhetorically.

Wolfram looked away. Yuuri shook his head at him before walking out the door, and Wolfram could do nothing but watch him leave. When he was finally alone, Wolfram sighed, realizing the gravity of what he had just done. He ran a hand through his tangled hair and lay down.

So much for acting normally.

~o0o~

TBC

~o0o~