Title: Dear Diary
Disclaimer: I don't own KKM and I am not getting profit from writing this. I still hope you enjoy though! ^^
Summary: You find a diary, old and crinkled, that contains a tale of a King and his slave, and the obstacles they have to overcome to be together. AU Yuuram.
Author's Note: So, I think this is one of the best stories I have ever written so I really do hope you enjoy. Because I loved writing this so much…I really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it ^^ Warning though, the PoV's might be a tad strange…xD
Also I am not sure if this should be rated T or M…so please tell me if T is too low for this story.
I call Yuuri the King instead of the Maou because frankly, I think the King sounds better. Sorry if that bugs you.


bachiari

Dear Diary Chapter 1: Wolfram, the Mysterious Writer.


You find a diary, the cover of it faded with time to a pale red and the pages crinkled and fat to signify the author's apparent love of writing in it. You wonder if you should really open it up – it is not yours and a diary is supposed to be private – but curiosity wins out and you open the diary to its first page. The spine makes a crack as you open it, and you open it a little slower, wary of how old the diary really is.

A paper is taped to the diary's first page, apparently a letter to the owner of the Diary:

::::::

Dear Wolfram,

There is no other way for me to say this except to be frank with you. You value boldness so I suppose it should be alright and I beg your forgiveness for what I am about to ask you. As I had said many times before, you are the best spy I have ever trained and it is only you I can trust this important task. As you must know, Shin Makoku has been stocking up on military essentials and we, as the rival kingdom, must figure out why. You are to be sent to Shin Makoku as a male sex slave to the King in hopes you may be able to discern the reason. Your only conditions are to not get attached to the King and to remain undetected. If you are detected, you are required to state your King had no knowledge of this and you were doing this on your own. It will only make matters worse if Shin Makoku thinks that we have tried to spy on them.

Good luck,

Your spymaster.

::::::

The word sex is surrounded by faded out strikes of a pencil, as if the owner had put a strike though the word sex many times and then realized he really shouldn't have and had decided to erase the evidence.

The notion of a sex slave makes you wonder again about how old the diary is. In your year, sex slaves are taboo and forbidden and the thought of the mighty Shin Makoku allowing this makes you think that this diary is really, really old.

You turn the page, excited to find out more about this unknown diary.

The next page's words are full of small, but legible writing as if the owner had taken painstaking care to shape each stroke with accurate precision.

::::::

Day 1, 10:06 AM

Dear Diary,

It's weird that I'm writing a diary. I never saw a reason to keep one before – as a spy, I knew that a diary was incriminating evidence that could be easily found – but it is my mission to keep one after all. Why else would my spymaster hand me a diary with an apologetic smile on his face? And you ask, why would I tape the instructions that were given to me in such an easy place to find? Perhaps I want to be found out; a country that sells me out as a sex slave to gather more information for them is a country I feel no loyalty for. Still, I am sure that my spymaster took no risks in this and the second I betray them, I will be stabbed to death by another agent. Gruesome, isn't it, Diary? The life of a spy. Even more so, the life of a sex slave.

Wish me luck; I'm meeting His Majesty in a couple of hours.

Sincerely,
Wolfram.

::::::

You're sure that the emphasized words are meant as irony; the writer surely wouldn't feel any respect for the King who had accepted him as a present after all, even if he knew that the King had no choice in the matter.

Wolfram intrigues you; his wit, bold words, and resigned tone make you feel for him and the hard fate he was served.

You turn the page, immersing yourself in Wolfram's unique way of writing again. This time the page is full with angry strokes with no relation to the small, precise words that had taken up the page before.

::::::

Day 1, 10:42 PM

Dear Diary,

The king is a WIMP. Of all the things I expected the fearsome King of Shin Makoku to be, he turned out to be a boy in his twenties with human blood coursing through his veins. How can his mere twenty years lived as a human ever compare to my eighty years full of mazoku intelligence? I suppose the comparison doesn't really matter for our relationship is master to slave, but the thought I have to curry favor with him makes my blood boil. The only good thing I heard tonight was that I am not to be sharing a room with the young King; instead, I will be rooming the room below him as respective to the status that I now currently hold. At least the advisors to the King know what they're talking about.

I have to go – there are footsteps outside my hall.

Wolfram.

::::::

The ending is rushed and the page seems to be crinkled more in the right-hand corner, as if the owner was gripping it in his anger.

You waste no more time on thought, hastily turning the page to read the next entry. The words are written clumsily, as if by a shaking hand.

::::::

Day 1, 11:02 PM

Dear Diary,

As you may see, I am flushed and a little worse from wear. It's not what you think though; thank Shinou my innocence is still attached. His Majesty…is kinder than I thought he would be. He told me – he was the footsteps I heard earlier – that he would wait three days for me to prepare myself for the event will inevitably happen. I called him a wimp, but he seemed unfazed by what I had said. He was nervous though, trembling even more than I was, and I could tell that he wanted the sex no more than I did. So I made a preposition to him, which he reluctantly agreed to. Every other night, the King will visit my room and stay for an hour or so. Neither of us will say a word to another soul about how these nights are spent and if anyone breathes a word about the King not sticking his dick where it really didn't belong, I will make enough sounds during these nighttime visits to convince anyone that the king and I were having the best sex of our life.

It is not the best proposition I have done, and I am still extremely surprised that the king would actually accept it, but for now, things are looking up.

These only reinforces my earlier claim that the king is a wimp though – and probably still a virgin - but still, his wimpy-ness has really helped me.

Happy for once,

Wolfram.

::::::

The clumsy words contradict the confident tone the writer had tried to send out; obviously, the writer was as nervous as the King he was supposedly so superior over. The thought puts a smile on your face; you wonder what kind of relationship these two have and how the story will end.

You turn the page again and this time, the writing has reverted back to its normal, precise and small writing. Apparently, Wolfram had calmed down from the excitement of coming to a new kingdom.

::::::

Day 2, 10:12 AM

Dear Diary,

I have just come back from eating breakfast with the King and a group of his close friends. It was awkward for me, but the people at the table did try to make me feel welcome. Greta, the King's adopted daughter, has taken a liking to me and followed me around for some of the morning, begging me to tell her more about the lands I came from. I told her all the good things and breathed not a word of the bad. Maybe I should have tried to ruin her innocence to get back at Shin Makoku, but I did not have the heart to ruin such an earnest expression. I wonder how she would feel if she knew she had been conversing with her father's sex slave.

Gwendel, though stern and disapproving, treated me as one would treat a student. By his words and expression, it seems as if he is looking forward to seeing what I am capable of. Still, I am not sure how much can be expected of one with a status similar to mine. His younger half-brother, Conrart, is much more open than he is. Still, I prefer Gwendel's expression to Conrart's; Conrart looks far too sentimental when he glances at me, and I have no idea why. Perhaps I remind him of someone?

Gunter is the only advisor I cannot stand. He is far too loud and seems far too fond of clutching onto the King without any reason. Not that I am jealous or anything – the King can have sex with anyone he wants – but it is obvious the King dislikes it and is too much of a wimp to say so himself.

His majesty is the uncertain factor here. Although he seemed open enough last night, he wouldn't catch my eye at all during breakfast. Of course I didn't spend most of the breakfast trying to catch his eye, but still…the King did not try to speak to me at all. It was weird, but being included in his daily breakfast was rewarding enough. Perhaps I will find out more about the military weapons soon.

Sincerely,

Wolfram.

::::::

You feel as if Wolfram had added the last statement in an attempt to remind himself what he was really there for. You are also puzzled by the way Wolfram is accepted into the King's daily life. Wasn't Wolfram supposed to be a sex slave?

The next page contains a diary entry from two days later; apparently, Wolfram had no time to write till then. You are intrigued, and quickly begin to read.

::::::

Day 4, 6:03 AM

Dear Diary,

I am angry. I feel jealous, incompetent, and ugly as well. I shouldn't be feeling this way, but I am and I horribly suspect it is because of what had happened last night.

Just like the night prior, once the King and I were behind closed doors, he opened up and started telling me all about himself. I stayed quiet, and decided to let him talk, when he suddenly started mentioning a girl named Elizabeth in a reverent tone. I immediately perked up; this was information that could possibly be useful to my cause in the form of blackmail. It was blackmail-information alright, except it caused me to feel those disgusting emotions I mentioned earlier. And again, I must repeat, I should not be feeling this way because these are all signs that I am starting to feel for the prince. These feelings would only bring disaster.

So I swallowed my rage and listened to him talk about Elizabeth, who was apparently his manager – for the baseball team, which I have no clue what that means- back on Earth. I wrinkled my nose at this; the King was in love with a human? I stayed silent though, and soon the King was excusing himself with a happy-go-lucky grin on his face.

He didn't touch me once. Perhaps I don't compare to this Elizabeth character?

I am going to breakfast now, so I'll write later.

Wolfram.

::::::

You are surprised that Wolfram has started having feelings for the King. You look at the letter shapes again, and you realize once again, that the writing is clumsy, and not precise. Wolfram was nervous while he wrote this, and not at all the same man who had written the precise letters the page before.

You wonder again just who this Wolfram is. You haven't heard of the name before; you don't even know how he looks like for he had never described himself in his entries. Although he claimed to be a spy, his writing is upper-class and script that usually only the nobles knew. Then again, since you are no historian, you are no judge to say that this isn't the way the lower-class wrote.

When you had wondered enough and came upon nothing, you turn the page. Instead of the same black letters lies a single picture. It is not framed and the edges are brown with time, but the inside shows clearly a young boy in his twenties, with black hair and black eyes. With a start, you realize that this must be the King, and when you glance down again, you catch the familiar writing of Wolfram's at the bottom. It is only one line: His Majesty, the King.

Wolfram doesn't explain how he came upon the picture, and you find you don't really care. You, instead of wasting time on thought, start examining the picture, looking for any signs of character that Wolfram could come to love.

When you find none and when you bore of examining the same picture, you turn the page. This time, the page is full of black inked writing and the letter shapes are precise and small once again.

::::::

Day 4, 12:34 PM

Dear Diary,

Breakfast was the usual activity. Gunter hugged the King, Greta asked me how I was doing, Gwendel gave me a stern look when I dripped a bit of soup down my chin, and Conrart stared at me during the whole breakfast. The King, of course, found it difficult to meet my eyes and determinedly kept his gaze elsewhere during the affair. Wimp.

But what happened after that was pretty unusual because for one, the King came up to me after breakfast – he was avoiding my eyes still – and asked if I wanted to find out what baseball was. At first, the word didn't ring a bell but with a flash, I remembered that this was the baseball that his Elizabeth managed. Wondering if I would feel those ugly emotions again, I reluctantly agreed. For some reason, I found the brilliant smile he gave me after that was cute, even though I really shouldn't have.

Baseball, it turns out, is a sport on Earth, in which one person runs around with a wooden bat – with no regard to personal safety I presume– and tries to hit a white ball that another person standing in the middle throws at him. Then after the hit, the person with the bat runs around in a diamond shape, making sure to tap the white bases placed at the corners of the diamond.

It seems to be a truly stupid game.

But it is important to the King. Perhaps that was why Elizabeth is so important to him – because she helps him manage whatever she has to manage about the stupid game.

Maybe, in hopes to gather more information about the weapons and not because I want to get closer to the King, I shall play this game with the King tomorrow.

Maybe.

Sincerely,

Wolfram.

::::::

You smile at Wolfram's description of the sport. Based on his description, baseball truly did seem to be a stupid game. But you know different because you have played it in your last visit to Shin Makoku.

Speaking of which, you tear your eyes away from the black scrawl to glance at the phone in your hand. Without you realizing, a text had arrived at your phone; you had accidently put your phone on silent. You trade glances between your phone and the diary until you come to the conclusion that reading about Wolfram, no matter how interesting the story was, had to come second to eating dinner with Cheri. After all, you haven't seen your mother in forever, and you are sure she is worried sick about you.

With a sigh, you place the diary back to where you found it, and gather up your belongings. You leave the room that the current King has given you, making sure to turn off the lights before you close the door.

In the drawer, the diary waits for your return.


So, interested? It's a story within a story and both have interesting twists and turns that you hopefully cannot predict. It hopefully surprised you; the way I'm writing this…aha.

Please review and let me know if you like this. I'm not quite sure if I should continue this if people don't like it because the writing is…quite strange…although writing in 2nd PoV is super duper fun So please let me know if you like this style or the usual style I have! I really appreciate it.