Author's notes:
- This story is inspired by several fairy tales (and a movie) and gold star to those who can guess what they are.
- This was written for the Journey Story BigBang 2013 challenge at LiveJournal.
- I don't usually bog down to details when writing, which is why I didn't emphasize too much on the timeline. The only clues being are Greta and Wolfram's age but in case anyone is wondering, this story happens close to 4 years after Yuuri first arrived in Shin Makoku.
- And speaking of details, you might notice but I like referring to Conrart as 'Conrart' so that's how his name is spelled in the narration but I had Yuuri and Greta call him 'Conrad' in dialogue as I think they did in the anime. That part confused my beta so I thought I'd clarify it.
- And speaking of beta, my huge thanks to radcliffe_bass for reading through this. Any remaining mistakes would be my fault since I re-wrote a lot of things post-beta.
.
.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Kyo Kara Maoh and its characters. Copyright remain with its creators, Temari Matsumoto for the light novels and Japan Broadcasting Corporation for the anime franchise.
.
.
.
.
Chapter 1
.
.
"Once upon a time, there lived a very beautiful queen," were the words that made Shibuya Yuuri stop en route to his office. Greta's dulcet voice floated through the corridors like a gentle breeze, prompting him to make a detour to the garden where the enticing sound seemed to be coming from.
There he found Greta sprawled on the quilt covering a portion of the thick green carpet of grass, legs stretched out before her with little El on her lap. Both of them had their eyes glued on the open book in Greta's hands though Yuuri was certain that El was only fascinated with the pictures on the pages since the little one couldn't read yet.
"The queen was at a loss. For her to be able to return to her homeland, she needed to spin hay into gold. But that was impossible, even with her magic," Greta read on, the rise and fall of her pitch gave off a dramatic effect. "Then an old man appeared out of nowhere, offering to help her with her crisis if she would promise to give him her youngest born child."
Hmm… Yuuri thought. Somehow that story sounded awfully familiar.
Greta must have sensed him because she tilted her head to glance his way. "Hey, Yuuri," she greeted with a wave of her hand. El climbed off her lap and toddled over to him.
"Hey, you two." Yuuri bent to pick up El and tossed the toddler up in the air, earning him a string of giggles. "Man, you sure are getting heavy," he told the child as he held him close. Despite being three, El looked more like he was only a year old, but there was no denying that he was growing fast.
"Have your guests from Caloria left?" Greta asked, setting the book aside. She folded her legs and tucked them under her, leaving a considerable space on the quilt in the process.
Yuuri took that as a silent invitation and dropped down beside her, bringing El with him. "Yeah. Just saw them off. So. Wolfram and the others will be back today, huh?" His fiancé had been away for the past two weeks and Yuuri felt rather guilty for not being able to follow him to Bielefelt land as promised, for not being there when Wolfram celebrated his 86th spring – his birth anniversary. There was a situation with some troublemakers at Small Cimaron that Saralegi needed help with and Yuuri was held back in that country for one reason or another.
"Yep." Greta's smile waned and her brown eyes sliding up at the sky. "They should be on their way." It was clear that she was still upset with Yuuri for breaking his promise but she had been too polite to say anything. Although. Her unusual mood could likewise be attributed to the fact that she was forced to come home earlier than scheduled. Hube and Gwendal had to be at Blood Pledge for the meeting with the Caloria representatives and young El – who, of course had to come along with his parents, Nicola and Hube – wouldn't part with Greta so Wolfram had asked her to travel with the group instead.
Not wanting to dwell on the thought of how equally – perhaps much more – upset Wolfram was, Yuuri decided to change the topic. He grabbed the discarded book and studied the cover that had an illustration of a woman with long golden hair who fairly resembled Lady Celi if he looked a bit closer. "What's this you were just reading?"
"A new story from Lady Anissina," was his thirteen-year-old adopted daughter's rather unenthusiastic response.
"I see." Yuuri was about to remind her how Anissina's books weren't all appropriate for young children when Dacoscos came trotting up to them to inform Yuuri that Wolfram and his entourage were riding into town. Yuuri almost stumbled in his haste to get back on his feet. He held out his hand to his daughter, said, "Come, Greta. Let's go meet Wolfram," and helped her up before sweeping little El over his shoulder.
.
=0=
.
Wolfram could feel the telltale signs of fatigue coursing through every vein in his body the moment they crossed the town gates. He gave the rein a gentle tug and his horse slowed from its rhythmic trot to an unhurried gait.
The whole kingdom seemed to have been swept in a blanket of silence for a heartbeat. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his neck that all eyes were on him. Probably looking at him with pity because he, the future prince consort, was once again disregarded by his fiancé – the king of Shin Makoku. His wimp of a fiancé, if he was to be specific. He braved to let his eyes scan around him for a second, only to find that people were in fact minding their own business.
Damn. Was he being paranoid?
His mother's carriage glided right beside his horse and he saw, through peripheral vision, his mother looking past the parted curtains. "It's good to be finally home, isn't it, Wolfie darling?" Lady Celi asked with a teasing lilt in her tone.
Home. Wolfram cast his gaze up at Blood Pledge Castle towering over the town. If he were to be honest, this place didn't feel like home anymore. Ignoring the tightening in his chest, Wolfram lifted his chin up, said, "Yeah. It is," with all the pride left in him then paid no heed to what his mother said next in favor of focusing on the winding road ahead.
The pressure within his ribcage intensified though when he caught a glimpse of Yuuri as soon as they reached the castle grounds. He wasn't ready to see the idiot just yet. Not yet.
Everything (and everyone) around Yuuri faded in a blur. All Wolfram could see was Yuuri. Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. Wolfram didn't notice Greta until he slid down from his horse and felt slender arms coming around his waist and heard Greta say, "You're home," almost in a whisper. "I missed you."
Home. The word would have lost its meaning had it not been for the warmth of his adopted daughter's embrace and the sincerity in her words. "Yes. I'm back," was what slipped through Wolfram's lips though and with little emotion.
Greta must have sensed something off because she blinked up at him and asked, "Something wrong, Wolfram?"
No. All is well, was the lie balancing on his tongue but he never had the chance to form them into words because Yuuri ambled over to him with a string of apologies. "I'm sorry I never made it to your birthday ball," were the first words out of his mouth. "I had to go to Small Cimaron. Sara needed my help to smoothen out the chaos caused by a group of rebels and—"
"Yuuri." Wolfram shot Yuuri with a glare, silencing his fiancé as a result. "There's no need for you to apologize. It was just my birthday anyway. I, as well as everyone else, know that I mean so little to you so I understand why you had to attend to more important matters. Now, if you'd excuse me. I'd like to retire to my room. I am exhausted."
"Of course," was Yuuri's only reaction, no rebuttal whatsoever. Not a single word to negate or deny what Wolfram had just claimed.
Not that Wolfram expected any. He didn't dare glance back to see what expression Yuuri was wearing, just angled his head enough to address his daughter, saying, "I'll talk to you later, Greta," then made a beeline toward his room – his own private bedroom and not the royal bedchamber he had been sharing with Yuuri.
It was after he'd discarded his scabbard and his jacket that he felt the added weight on his finger, prompting him to lift his hand so he could stare at the elegantly carved vines that ran along the surface of the silver ring he wore. It was a gift. From a 'friend.'
"It's a friendship ring," Siegfrid had said, "so you won't forget me."
As if he could forget that gentle smile, the alluring golden eyes and blue-black tresses that fell in layers around that man's ethereal face. Wolfram felt his heart skip at the thought.
If it wasn't for Siegfrid – his carefree humor, the gentlemanly way he treated Wolfram, his noble but nonetheless down-to-earth demeanor – Wolfram would have been left brooding for the entirety of his stay at Bielefelt.
The man was so easy to get along with – considering Wolfram's nature (or lack thereof) when it came to socializing – that their mere acquaintance status was quick to evolve into what Wolfram would like to consider the early stages of friendship.
And it was because of Siegfrid that leaving had been harder. That returning to Blood Pledge felt more like a burden now, as if walking into a death trap. That Bielefelt mansion felt more of a home than this castle ever could.
Wolfram fell on his bed, his back sinking on the soft mattress. His thumb felt the irregular surface of the ring while his mind slowly drifted off to that plane between consciousness and the first layers of slumber. He wasn't sure if it was only his imagination, if fatigue had finally conquered the last vestiges of his acute awareness. But somehow, somehow he felt the ring tighten around his finger.
.
=0=
.
"What do you mean by strange?" Murata lifted his gaze off the book he'd been reading to regard Yuuri with a quizzical look, his eyebrows pinched; dark eyes reflecting perplexity behind his glasses.
"I don't know. I mean…" Yuuri ran a hand over his face as if the gesture alone could clear the jumbled thoughts swirling in his head at the moment. The papers on his desk lay forgotten. "I know he's mad at me for not being able to make it at his birthday bash. But he's been too distant lately. Like. Like…"
"He's a different Wolfram entirely?" Murata filled in, his face now hidden behind a mask of indifference that made it difficult for Yuuri to tell whether his friend was mocking him or was being philosophical as usual.
"Kind of. Yes." Yuuri was close to imploding out of frustration. Wolfram had barely said a whole sentence to him since he came back from Bielefelt. His golden-haired fiancé would miss meals most of the time in favor of patrolling the nearby areas or having meals in his room. And speaking of his room, he had even stopped sleeping in Yuuri's chamber altogether.
Frustrating.
Yuuri had run out of ways to apologize.
"Can't blame him though." Murata's attention was back on the page he had abandoned. "I don't know if you've realized it but you've been neglecting him these past few months."
"Neglecting him?"
Murata eyed him with blatant incredulity, one dark eyebrow sliding higher than the other. "I know you can be totally obtuse at times, Shibuya. But seriously." He flipped the book close and pushed it away, shifting on his seat to face Yuuri, one arm resting on the table while the other hung limply over the backrest of his wooden chair.
Feeling like he was about to be chastised, Yuuri reclined slightly, his spine making contact on the cushioned back of his caquetoire.
"Think, Shibuya," Murata blurted as if there wasn't a considerable pause that hung in the air for a few seconds. "You didn't just fail to attend Lord von Bielefelt's birthday celebration. You missed it because you had to go help King Saralegi, which," Murata raised his hand with his palm facing Yuuri as soon as Yuuri's lips parted to contest, "I know is your duty to the alliance country. But then Wolfram rarely celebrates his birthday." His voice had gone softer then, nearly murmuring, "Not to mention that the ball was devised by his uncle because I think Lord Waltorana is trying to win your fiancé over. Probably so little Lord von Bielefelt would consider renouncing your engagement and move to Bielefelt where he could then be shaped into a suitable heir."
Out of all the words that tumbled out of Murata's mouth, the only ones that registered in Yuuri's mind was the part where Wolfram would consider renouncing their engagement. Though admittedly, this was exactly what Yuuri would've wanted in the past, but now… but now…
If his thoughts were cluttered in a messy tangle earlier, it was worse now and the only coherent response that Yuuri could form was, "What?"
"Never mind that," Murata said, almost defensively. "It's just a hypothesis. Anyway. Remember when you likewise failed to accompany your beloved fiancé at the Military Academy where he had to do a speech because you had an errand in our world? Only that errand involved an impromptu date with Mei." The corners of Murata's mouth curled to form a conniving smirk.
"Wait a minute. That wasn't—"
"Then there was also the time when you missed his art exhibit because you had to meet with Lady Flynn. Imagine what people were thinking back then: the future prince consort trying to raise funds for charity without the king by his side." There was no doubt that Murata was now rubbing salt in his wound.
"Alright, alright. I get it." Yuuri flailed his hand, feeling culpable all of a sudden. If guilt came in the form of water, he would've drowned in it already. "And I know Wolfram has every reason to be furious at me. But you weren't listening, Murata. This time it's different. There are times when he seems to be, like what you pointed out earlier, a different person entirely."
"Does he act similar to how he was when possessed by Soushu?" The Great Sage asked in a rather analytical undertone.
"Now that you mentioned it, it does remind me of that Wolfram. But I don't think that's—"
"Look, Shibuya. Maybe you're just being paranoid, the fact that you feel guilty and you're always uneasy whenever Lord von Bielefelt is upset with you."
"Maybe you're right. But what do I do?"
Murata rose from his chair to approach Yuuri's desk then leaned his backside against the side of the furniture. "Just relax, give Lord von Bielefelt some space. I'm sure he'll come out of it in a few days or so." He slid his hands in his pant pockets, eyes slanting over to Yuuri. "Tell me something though, Shibuya. How do you really feel about Lord—I mean Wolfram?"
"Honestly?" Yuuri could give his usual lame response – that Wolfram is an important friend he cares about – but then again, Yuuri was sick and tired of lying. To himself. To everyone around him. "I think I'm warming up to the idea of starting a real relationship with him. Setting all ideals aside, I think it's not that hard to fall in love with Wolfram after all."
The smile that curved on Murata's lips was more sincere than it was devious. "Then why don't you woo your dear Wolfram? Do something nice for him."
"Like what?"
Murata snorted. He reached out to pat Yuuri on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll come up with an idea or two. Think about it." He pushed away from the desk and proceeded to the door. "I have to go back to the shrine. I'll see you later, Shibuya."
When the door closed behind Murata, Yuuri drew his attention back to the documents he was supposed to be working on. Among the sheets was a leaflet for a traveling carnival where a letter requesting for permission to hold it within the vicinity of the capital was attached. Yuuri thought it would be a perfect opportunity for him to spend time with Wolfram. Without further deliberation, he signed the approval thinking of discussing the security measures with Gwendal later. Then just like that, he felt like a huge boulder had been lifted off his shoulders.
.
=0=
.
The parchment in his hand crumpled when Wolfram's fingers closed in on it. His uncle's handwriting blurred a little and Wolfram had to blink the tears away before reading through its contents once more. For the umpteenth time since he received the correspondence a week ago.
Lord Waltorana von Bielefelt had been adamant (even in his letter) in asking Wolfram if he had come to a decision regarding his uncle's forthright proposal in grooming Wolfram to be the next ruler of the Bielefelt territory. Accepting it would mean he had to leave Blood Pledge Castle. It meant he had to…
Wolfram tossed the letter on his desk and made his way to his bed; climbed over the mattress and curled up on his side.
There wasn't any point in holding onto whatever hope he had that Yuuri would acknowledge him as a fiancé. Although Yuuri had stopped denying it long ago, he hadn't actually expressed any interest in marrying Wolfram at all. So Wolfram had reached an irrevocable resolution: he would request a formal dissolution of his engagement to King Yuuri.
It was time to end this madness. It was time for Wolfram to move on.
Fate seemed to be playing tricks on him though. He had meant to discuss this matter with Yuuri, but the Maoh had often been slipping through his fingers the past week, often coming up with an excuse to avoid the topic. Either that or a bizarre situation (such as the lower level of the castle's west wing suddenly getting flooded, or the horses running out of the stables on a stampede, or Yuuri suddenly developing a nasty case of allergy that he had to see Gisela right away) would seize his chance and Wolfram would eventually lose the will to raise the issue.
Then there was the other night when Yuuri stormed into his bedroom and literally dragged him towards the royal bedchamber, coaxed him to climb onto the bed then snuggled – freaking snuggled! – next to him.
Shinou help him, but Wolfram was close to losing his wits.
The soft knock on the door followed by Greta's voice calling out his name interrupted his musings.
"Come in," he told Greta only to regret saying so the moment the door swung open to reveal not only his daughter but Yuuri in tow. Wolfram pushed himself upright but remained seated on the edge of his bed.
"Wolfram, look at this!" his teenage daughter exclaimed, holding up a piece of parchment with colorful images on it and on top, in bold Shin Makoku writing, was written: The Magnificent Traveling Carnival. "Yuuri said the three of us could go. Erm, four actually. Including Conrad." Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm which, in turn, triggered some spark in Wolfram's otherwise disconsolate mood.
Wolfram contemplated for a while.
"You will come with us, won't you?" Greta asked when he didn't respond.
What harm could it do? Besides, he hadn't spent much time with Greta since he arrived. "Of course," he said and it wasn't just the sparkle in Greta's eyes he noticed. Yuuri's face likewise brightened.
"That's great, Wolf," Yuuri said, his hand landing on the curve of Wolfram's shoulder. The touch sent a surge of tingles up Wolfram's neck. Before he could even think of brushing Yuuri's hand away, Yuuri had released him and marched over to the door saying, "I'll go ahead and let Gwendal and Conrad know."
He was doomed, wasn't he? He would never be free of Yuuri.
The next day came too fast, in Wolfram's opinion and before he knew it, he was wandering through the town dressed as a commoner and into the open area where the carnival was set up. The sun was about to set so torches were lit, giving the place an eerie feel. There were a lot of colorful tents around. Men and women in glittering masks and garish costumes littered the area. The various types of music – from slow ballads to upbeat tunes – filled the air.
Greta's high-pitched voice rose above the noise. "I want a fluff!" She grabbed Yuuri's hand and led him to a booth selling colorful sweets that came in cloud-like forms.
"A fluff?" Yuuri said, eyeing the ones on display. "On Ear—I mean, where I come from we call that cotton candy."
"I want the pink one," Wolfram heard Greta say before a soft, beguiling melody brushed against his ears. He turned around in search for the source, gradually discerning that the sound seemed to be coming from a flute.
The music spoke to him, whispering his name. Wolfram. Wolfram, come to me, seemed to resonate through the melody. Every note coiled around him like a gentle breeze then it seeped through his skin and coursed through veins, prompting his legs to move.
Wolfram. Wolfram.
Everything around him faded and all Wolfram could see was a dark alley ahead. Within its dark confines lingered a silhouette of a person – a man, he guessed. The moon then cast a soft yellow glow above them, allowing Wolfram to see the stranger better. It was a man indeed, wearing a mask bedecked with colorful gems, his dark hair glistening against the hazy beam that caressed his head. Over his lips was a flute, an enchanting tune spiraling out of the instrument.
"Wolfram?"
Hearing Yuuri's voice yanked him out of whatever (spell) he was under and Wolfram mentally pushed away the weight that seemed to be clinging on his shoulders.
"Wolfram? You okay?" Yuuri was already beside him, his hand on Wolfram's shoulder, eyes filled with what Wolfram can only interpret as concern. For him? No. He couldn't think that. It was only natural for Yuuri to worry over everyone around him. He wasn't… wasn't special.
"Hmm?" was all he managed to utter in his post-stupor state.
"You okay?" Yuuri's hand slid across his shoulders and Wolfram almost cringed when he felt his fiancé drape an arm around him. "I was asking what flavor of fluff you wanted but when I turned around, you weren't there, so we had to look for you and… well, here you are. What are you doing here anyway?"
'Here' turned out to be a few meters outside the carnival area and Wolfram had no clue how he ended up there. When he tried to recall what happened, his head throbbed from the effort. "I uh…" He pressed the heel of his hand against his temple. "I feel a headache coming. Would you mind if I go back to the castle now?"
The worry reflected on Yuuri's dark eyes never left. "Sure. We can all go home now."
"No." Wolfram didn't want Yuuri with him right now. He just wanted to be left alone. "No. You… you guys can stay here."
Yuuri's arm fell away from Wolfram's shoulder only for the king to hold him at arms length. "Nonsense. I'm not letting you go back alone. Besides, it's almost time for dinner. I hear the maids prepared our favorite dishes."
Somehow, he felt too weak to refuse Yuuri, so Wolfram could do nothing but acquiesce. "Okay." He hated the fact that just when he was trying to push Yuuri away, Yuuri seemed to be pulling him closer.
.
=0=
.
It was the last day of the circus. Yuuri wished he could take Wolfram and Greta to the festivities but he had so much work to do earlier in the day. So he had been locked up in his office while Wolfram claimed he had to train his new recruits.
Greta ended up going with Hube, Nicola and El instead.
Before dinner, they camped out on the castle grounds to watch the fireworks display. Yuuri stood by Wolfram's side in silence, recalling what Murata had told him earlier when Yuuri asked for advice on how to get back in Wolfram's good graces. It had been two weeks and still…
"A romantic gesture might work," the Great Sage had said with a devious glint in his eyes.
Romantic gesture? Yuuri failed at anything romantic, if Wolfram's sour mood whenever he was around Yuuri was any proof.
A sharp explosive noise from the distance made Yuuri jerk and his eyes darted toward the sky where a ball of white light was ascending. Then it burst into a colorful array of red, blue and yellow. Soon, the sky was sparkling as if thousands of jewels were thrown against the sooty-black backdrop that loomed above them.
Yuuri shifted his gaze to the golden-haired man standing beside him and felt his heart rise up to his throat upon seeing the brilliant lights coloring the sky reflected on Wolfram's porcelain-like face. He was breathtakingly gorgeous. The glass case that had always held his heart cracked and something unfurled in Yuuri's chest at that moment.
"It's beautiful," fell from Wolfram's lips.
Yuuri was unable to tear his eyes away from his fiancé. "Yeah. Beautiful."
And when Wolffram turned his way, his emerald eyes holding Yuuri's dark ones captive, Yuuri knew right then that this man… this man…
"Boys." Lady Celi said in singsong tone. "You're missing the fireworks display." She regarded them with a look that sent the heat already resting on Yuuri's cheeks surge up to the tip of his ears.
"Um. Right." Wolfram said, glancing skyward, his face adopting the shade of scarlet.
Yuuri shifted his attention back to the radiant spectacle in the distance but his entire focus remained on his fiancé, hyper aware of everything that was Wolfram now – his scent (a mix of vanilla and spring flowers and fiery musk that is just so… Wolfram), his warmth, his presence.
Before he lost his nerves, Yuuri moved his arm and hooked his pinky finger with Wolfram's, watching his fiancé through the corner of his eye. There was no mistaking the smile that teased on Wolfram's plump-looking lips and that alone made something in Yuuri's heart blossom.
They were about to migrate back into the castle as soon as the show was over but then a thick fog came pouring into the premises, causing everyone to still.
"What the—"
The vapor cleared as abruptly as it came to reveal a masked man standing in the middle of Blood Pledge's frontage. His dark hair – blue in color but so dark in shade it appeared almost black – fluttered as the wind rushed forth. A collective gasp and Lady Celi's whispered "oh my" were the only sounds that filled the suddenly quiet surroundings.
Then the man held his arms out to his sides, said, "A pleasure to meet you again, Lady Celi," and inclined his head in what Yuuri deemed was a courteous bow. "It had been a long time."
Wait. This guy knows Lady Celi? shot through Yuuri's befuddled mind. "Lady Celi, who is he?"
"I honestly don't have any clue," was what Lady Celi said though Yuuri could perceive the fear that clouded her oftentimes brilliant green eyes.
"I suppose you won't remember me in this form," the man said then waved his hand with a flourish. Smoke rose around him, obscuring him from Yuuri's vision.
When the mist dissipated, there, in place of the masked man, was an old fellow, shorter in height with long white hair cascading over his shoulders, thinning beard covering his jaw and his dark gold eyes held so much malice that it sent shivers up Yuuri's spine. "I certainly hope you remember me now."
Lady Celi's hand flew over her mouth. "Oh no."
A menacing laugh rippled out of the man's mouth. "Yes, Lady Celi. I'm back. To collect what you owe me."
Yuuri couldn't help but think, What drug is this guy on anyway? and, with his curiosity peaking, he asked, "What is he talking about, Lady Celi?"
"I supposed an explanation is in order," the man said and he launched into (what Yuuri presumed) a concise version of a (probably) long and complicated story about how he came to Lady Celi's aid long ago when she was held captive in a foreign land. The words spiraled around Yuuri's head like some difficult mathematical equation or scientific theory that he had a hard time grasping. The only phrase that he found coherent enough was the part where Lady Celi was expected to weave hay into gold, which the man claimed he helped her with.
Why did that sound so inexplicably familiar?
"So," the old man said then and he held out his hand. "I'm here to claim what is now rightfully mine as promised."
"No!" Lady Celi screamed and she grabbed onto Wolfram, enfolding him in her arms. "You can't. I won't let you."
"Why? What did you promise to give him?" Yuuri had to ask although he had this horrid inkling that he knew.
"You see, Yuuri-heika." The old man's eyes were now on him. Every word the stranger uttered seemed to come out in a snake-like hiss. "She promised to give me her youngest born child."
There was certainly something wrong with the picture. If this was, as Yuuri had deduced, similar to the book he heard Greta reading, which he now recalled comparing to an old folk's tale his mother used to read to him when he was a child, then shouldn't the old man be asking for the first born? Not that he wanted him to take Gwendal, heavens no.
Wait. This wasn't the time to go through such ridiculous analysis. The man was asking for… What did the man just say? Did that mean he was here to take—
Mist billowed around the old man and soon unveiled the masked stranger once more. He held a flute up to his lips and began playing a tune that sounded strangely faint to Yuuri's ears but it felt like it released some force that threw Yuuri off, separating him from Wolfram.
Wolfram's eyes became dim and he began to float toward the man, one slow stride after another.
Nooooo! I won't let him take my Wolfram! resonated in Yuuri's head, drowning the sounds of pandemonium taking place around him. He could feel the wrath churning within him until another layer of consciousness rose and enfolded his own. This only meant one thing: the Maoh had taken over.
Every emotion poured out of him, manifesting into his maryoku. Water dragons rose in fury, attacking the outsider and protecting Wolfram simultaneously. The uproar must have knocked Wolfram out of his trance because he gazed up, emerald eyes shining with life once more.
"Yuuri?"
That voice, soft like a breeze yet held so much compassion, was enough to calm the Maoh down.
"You will leave this place," the Maoh said, addressing the masked stranger. "You alone, without taking anyone else, and will not return."
The man laughed – sinister and cold – and seized them all with an evil glare. "I will collect what had been promised to me," were his last words before a flame engulfed him, turning him into cloud-like particles that vanished in a blink of an eye.
.
=0=
.
Gisela checked his vitals once more, then asked, "Are you sure you're feeling all right?" for the tenth time since they started, not that Wolfram was counting.
It was a feat to hold his temper in check and the effort alone was making Wolfram's head throb. "I'm fine, Gisela. Just a little dizzy. I probably just need to sleep it off. You can leave now," was his acerbic response.
"Okay then." To Yuuri, she said, "Please send for me should anything go wrong health-wise, Your Majesty."
Yuuri's head bounced in a swift nod. "Thanks, Gisela."
Once they were left alone, Yuuri studied him with overt caution as if Wolfram would break. But he decided against throwing a caustic remark and instead wandered off to the closet to change into his sleepwear. It wasn't long before Wolfram was in bed and dozing off.
Something pulled him out of his shallow slumber. A familiar sound. Soft tunes from a flute fluttered through the window. He was about to rise but the arm over his chest, which he hadn't noticed, held him down.
"Go back to sleep," Yuuri whispered.
But Wolfram couldn't possibly—
"Yuuri." The music kept playing. "Can you hear that?"
One of Yuuri's eyes slid open. "Hear what?"
"A flute playing."
Both Yuuri's dark orbs were on him now, the skin between his eyebrows creased. "I don't hear anything."
That's weird. Just as Wolfram was about to tell Yuuri to listen closely, the music stopped. And Wolfram could only come up with one conclusion. "That was—that was probably just my mind playing tricks on me."
Going back to sleep proved difficult but Wolfram must have succumbed to it eventually because the next thing he knew, he was yanked out of his unconscious state by the noises that rising from the castle grounds. Yuuri was already slipping his robe on by the time Wolfram climbed out of bed and in minutes, they were both racing through the corridors and out into the main hall only to witness that the castle had turned into a scene of violent commotion.
"What's going on?" Yuuri caught up with Conrart, who, Wolfram noted, was already wearing his military uniform.
"There had been reports coming in from town," Conrart said, a bit out of breath. "That quite a number of children are missing."
"Missing?" Both he and Yuuri repeated in unison.
"Yes, and—"
"Heika! Heika!"
Wolfram spied his mother approaching them in a hurried pace, tears pooling in her eyes.
"Heika. I… When I heard what happened in town, I went to check on Greta right away. But she wasn't in her room," she said, her lips quivering as crystal clear liquid slid down her cheeks. "Instead, I found this pinned on the doorway, with this." She held out a piece of parchment on one hand and a dagger on the other.
"Shibuya! I heard what happened. Is every—" Murata stopped in his tracks when he saw Yuuri take the note from Lady Celi, prompting Wolfram to look over Yuuri's shoulder.
Wolfram felt his heart drop when he saw what was written. 'I'll take the children in place of what is owed to me,' the first line read. 'I will give you 5 days to find my lair and bring the third prince to me as ransom, lest you want these children to end up as part of my ever-growing collection of imps, your daughter included.'
The room spun around him and Wolfram had to lean into Yuuri for balance.
"Let me take a look at that." The Great Sage held out his hand and took the note, adjusted his glasses and stared at the parchment. "I know this insignia," he said, and Wolfram wondered what he was referring to. In his immediate distress, he hadn't noticed anything else.
Murata held the note up for everyone to see. Underneath the scribbled message was some sort of seal burned into the parchment – vines that formed a circle with an eye at the center. "This," he said, finger pressed on the sign. "This is the seal of the Warlock King."
.
.
tbc…
.
.