Title: Disconnected
Summary: When Wolfram gets too close to the forbidden boxes, the seal on Soushu's darkness breaks and takes over his soul. How far will the Maou go to get his fiancé back without killing him in the process?
Author's notes: I meant to update another story, but I couldn't help writing just one more before I do. I'll probably finish this one quickly enough to work on my other stories soon. Thank you for reading my stories, and please review; it makes my day to read good reviews. Oh, and has anyone seen the third Kyou Kara Maou ova? I would love to hear some of your comments on it. By far, for me, it was the best episode of the entire series so far.
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A small wisp of charcoal-black smoke hung over Wolfram's sleeping form, dark as the starless night sky just outside of Blood Pledge Castle. Rain whipped at the windows harshly, rattling the glass in their loose panes and coating the sky with swirling, onyx clouds from which the water was pouring arbitrarily. Wolfram's eyebrows knitted together in frustration; somehow, he just couldn't seem to stay asleep for very long.
An ominous feeling filled the air, and though he couldn't place words to the thought surrounding it, he could sense it as it entered his mind. It wasn't painful, just… eerie. He turned to his still slumbering fiancé.
How could he sleep through something like this?
A sudden chill entered his body, and he hugged his blankets more securely around himself, holding his knees to his chest and pulling the sheets over his head. It was just too cold. Like ice.
Pressing a chilled hand to his forehead, he felt cold sweat pouring down his face, his hair sticking to his temple and around his neck. He shivered lightly, tucking his legs in closer and listening to the calm, meditative metronome that the rain was creating as it hit the windows gently. The water seemed to mimic the sound of a person, rapping at the thin glass patiently, pleadingly.
He allowed his body to relax as the cold overtook him, adjusting to the change in temperature and the steady beating on the windows. He found himself entranced by the rain; it took his mind off of the decreasing heat and how uncomfortable he was, struggling for warmth. He listened to the sound for a moment before he felt his eyelids droop and his mind grow calm, the hypnotic tapping of the rain resounding in his ears and filling his mind.
And though he hadn't noticed it in the first place, the dark cloud of smoke that had once hung over him wasn't there anymore. It was gone.
xXx
His bare feet pressed into the soft, rain-washed soil, leaving prints where he had stepped and spraying water lightly against his unclothed legs, which were becoming numb as they were touched by the freezing rain. His arms, also bare, hung at his sides limply, and he walked forward as if in a trance, pale, dull green eyes staring ahead blankly. His light-pink nightgown clung to his skin, drenched in water hanging low around his shoulders. His feet padded rhythmically and his pajamas bounced heavily around his knees as he trod around the castle grounds, past the gardens, and up the steps to Shinou's temple.
The door was unlocked when he got there, as though someone had been waiting for him, but when he entered, it was to find the room completely deserted.
The four forbidden boxes lay, in a neat row, at the other side of the room. The swirls of colour painted on them glimmered in the pale light, though Wolfram approached them a bit less than cautiously, his feet dragging slightly on the rough, stone floor. He would have appeared to have been sleepwalking, had it not been for the deep, ebony hue around his eyes. Pure darkness.
No one disturbed him as he approached the boxes, which now had a faint black smoke emanating from under their lids. He knelt before them, his face completely expressionless, and the smoke whirled itself around his body, absorbing into his skin quickly. Head bowed and still in a seemingly trancelike state, he let it happen without any response.
His eyes returned back to their original state and colour the moment it was over, and a shocked expression came over his features. He looked around himself for a moment, before a certain dizzy feeling surged through him, his eyes slowly closed, and he slipped out of consciousness.
xXx
"Heika," a soft voice gently shook Yuuri's mind as he slept; he mumbled a bit in his sleep, not wanting to wake so soon, it felt, after he had finally gotten to bed, but the voice persisted and, groggily, he raised himself into sitting position, looking around him with curiosity as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
His eyes immediately met those of Ulrike, who was standing somewhere to his right, eyebrows furrowed and an unnaturally worried look on her face. Her hair was unruly, and she was sweating a little, as though she had run from the temple to the castle without stopping. Behind her stood Conrad, carrying what appeared to be a sleeping figure, though it took Yuuri a moment to distinguish who that person was.
Wolfram.
Conrad was cradling Wolfram gently as though he was extremely fragile, and had a look of concern painted across his face. Wolfram was soaked with water, which was dripping on the floor from the nightgown that stuck to him like a second skin, and though he appeared to be breathing, he wasn't awake.
Yuuri jumped from the bed quickly, as though he had been electrocuted, as Conrad carried Wolfram tenderly into the room and laid him on the bed with care. Yuuri looked incredulously at the other boy, who had yet to awaken.
"What happened to him?" he asked, turning to Ulrike, who had her head inclined, her hair falling over her face. Conrad, his eyes softer than usual, answered.
"We're not quite sure. We found him like this, unconscious, on the floor of the temple nearly half an hour ago. He wouldn't wake up, no matter what we'd tried." His voice sounded tired and broken, as though he hadn't spoken in days and had been awake all night. Perhaps he had, Yuuri couldn't help thinking.
Yuuri turned back to Wolfram, who had his eyes peacefully closed. His face seemed a bit paler than usual, though aside from which he appeared completely normal. Yuuri reached over and put a hand over the other boy's arm, but drew it back quickly, as though he had been scalded. His skin was ice-cold.
"We've called for Gisela; she should be over soon to take a look at him," Conrad said, and Yuuri nodded, not sure what else to say.
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The black clouds had receded, the rain dramatically thinned, and the sun had begun creeping across the early dawn skies when Gisela finally appeared, clutching a small, white medical bag against her chest. Yuuri, who was alone in the room save for Conrad, and who had been absently drawing invisible circles on his fiancé's still cold arm, sat upright quickly, positioning himself between the older man and the door as Gisela hurried to Wolfram's bedside.
The doctor flinched as she delicately touched the sleeping boy's chilled flesh, pressing one hand to his forehead and using the other to feel the pulse on his wrist. Pulling both hands together again and resting them solemnly on Wolfram's chest, Gisela began to work on one of her most powerful healing spells, which she had only ever had to use in times of war. Bright green light flowed from her fingertips and faded as it touched his skin, and after a moment of concentration and a string of meditative, chant-like words, she pulled her hands back softly and turned to face the other two people in the room, locking her eyes with Yuuri's, though speaking to them both.
"I'm afraid that there's nothing more that I can do for him," she said, lacking her usual carefree, casual voice, and toning into something more suitable for a wake. "I've done all I can."
"What's the matter?" Yuuri piped up, his voice hoarse and his eyes stern, refusing to look away from Gisela as he spoke. "What's wrong with him?" He nodded towards the bed, where Wolfram lay, silent and still, cold and wet, his body limp as though he were simply asleep.
"His body has put itself in a false sleep, though I really can't say why, or when he'll wake from it…" her voice trailed away as she broke eye contact with Yuuri, turning towards Wolfram as if only seeing him for the first time and, eyebrows locked tightly together and eyes hardened, she picked through her memories for any trace of a similarly unconscious state. "I really don't believe I've ever seen a similar case; he appears to merely be asleep."
Yuuri lowered his eyes to Wolfram, whose chest was rising and falling slowly as he breathed, his mouth curled delicately and his long hair cascading wetly around his neck. He neared the bed and sat next to where his fiancé lay, not noticing as Gisela and Conrad quietly motioned at each other to leave the room, leaving the door barely ajar behind them and conversing in unheard whispers on the other side.
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"Sir Weller, about what you told me earlier, about the boxes…" Gisela began, and Conrad nodded in a silent agreement at her unspoken words. Her eyes clouded for a moment, and she looked away from him, phrasing her words in her mind before speaking them. "If what you say is true about Soushu's return…"
"It is, I assure you. The boxes were all open slightly when we found him," Conrad said, his voice apprehensive. Gisela looked up at him for a moment, emerald hair falling from its usual tie and around her face, reaching past her shoulders and sweeping across her face.
"I don't want to be the one to tell you this…" Gisela began, choosing her words carefully, "but if your brother stays in this suspended state for very long, there is a chance that the results may be fatal. And there is also the possibility that Soushu's essence will embed itself in his body and…"
As her voice died away, Conrad inclined his head and turned to leave, not looking back at her. He had suspected just this to happen; Ulrike had told him about the chance that, if one of the keys got too close to the boxes, they may open again, but to think that his own brother may become a victim of Soushu's darkness…
That would be a fate far worse than death, for either of them.
xXx
It was nighttime, a milky-white crescent moon hung low in the sky, which blanketed the castle in black velvet and wrapped itself around the slightly foggy window panes. Yuuri sighed and hugged his pillow to the side of his face, pulling the blanket up to his neck and shifting where he lay. There was something wrong; he'd never had trouble sleeping before, not this sort of fitful, insomniac sleep. There was something missing.
Wolfram.
Yuuri hadn't seen the blond boy in hours. After Gisela had made her leave, Gwendal, with a smug look painted across his features, had helped Conrad change Wolfram into something dry, and had then forced the Maou to spend the rest of the day signing papers and discussing issues with the neighboring towns. It was as though nothing had ever happened.
Yuuri turned again, pulling the blankets over his head and pressing his face roughly into the mattress, his eyes closed tightly and his hands balled into fists, clutching the sheets harshly. A steady, heartbeat-like rhythm was pounding against his forehead, and he pressed a hand to his temple, sighing exasperatedly again. He was too worried to sleep.
What if something happened had happened to Wolfram while he, Yuuri, slept in the guest bedroom, nearly half of the castle away from his where his fiancé lay, unmoving and unconscious?
Yuuri shook his head and pulled back the covers, looking around the dark room blindly before his eyes adjusted slowly to the deep ebony blackness. He sat up quickly and was about to leave the room quietly to check on Wolfram when a sudden noise from just outside the room came to his ears.
It was the sound of steady, creeping footsteps on the floorboards, barefoot more than likely, by the creaking noise the wood was making as they padded slowly across the floor. Yuuri slunk back in bed, eyeing the door apprehensively and clamping his mouth shut tightly so as not to make a noise. The footsteps continued.
The dragging feet of the intruder stopped just before the door and Yuuri, holding his breath and sitting farther back on the mattress, prayed that whoever it was would just walk right by the room. They didn't.
The door handle slowly creaked, eerily, clockwise, and the door opened in one fluid movement. It was too dark in the doorway for Yuuri to see any part of the stranger other than his feet, which were indeed bare, with red marks on them from what appeared to be a long walk with no shoes on, and his eyes, which were a dull, unusual shade of green, with a hue of a charcoal onyx colour. Yuuri stared, wide-eyed, as they entered the room, long, thin arms reaching toward him, a sharp dagger glinting mysteriously in the pale moonlight from just beyond the glass window panes.
The next thing Yuuri saw where he sat, petrified with fear and eyes clearly fixed on the dagger, averting them back to the face of the stranger every few seconds, was light blond hair, clinging to the sides of their face and hanging loosely over their forehead. And by the time they were standing over him, dagger in hand, nightgown hung lightly over their shoulders, there was no doubt in Yuuri's mind who it was.
It was Wolfram.
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