Chapter 3

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"Wolfram," was rasped harshly in his ear—the same way it was said when he was little. But he wasn't a child anymore. That was for sure.

"I said…No!" Wolfram yelled, wrenching his wrist free from Conrad and, in the process, drawing attention from housekeeping servants and castle guards alike at both ends of the corridor. All conversations broke off and they looked to Wolfram to see if this was the beginning of another uncomfortable shouting match with his brother.

Head tilted up defiantly, there was a cold, green fire burning in Wolfram's eyes. But Conrad would never let that stop him. When he needed to, he could be very persistent.

"Where are you going, then?" he asked, tall form bending down slightly to get a better look at the blond bishonen.

"My office." He straightened up to his full height, arms at his sides, fists clenched.

Conrad took a breath and let it out. Then, he snatched Wolfram by the wrist again and stepped lively in the right direction. "Back to your old bedroom, you mean." He glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Wolfram, indignant at his treatment, pulled away but found himself being tugged in the direction he'd planned on going all along.

"I'm sure you want to do this the easy way," Conrad went on pleasantly. "The alternative…having you thrown over my shoulder…just might draw more attention than usual. And, it could get back to everyone in the castle." He emphasized "everyone" in the hopes it would sink in that "Yuuri" was included in "everyone."

The person behind him stumbled a few steps, making him look.

Wolfram was now wearing an unusual, almost blank, kind of expression as he gave his surroundings a searching glance. It confused Conrad because his brother never cared before about having an audience for his tantrums and Yuuri was nowhere to be found.

Brown eyes narrowed at it. "Wolf..ra.."

His name snapped Wolfram's mind back to what was going on.

"Conrad!" Wolfram barked half-heartedly, "I-I can walk on my own…thank you VERY LITTLE!" His left leg was a tad slow and he found himself being dragged anyway until an abrupt stop got his face planted firmly into Conrad's back. The pleasantly deep voice said, "Gwendal! Just the person…"

"Gwendal?" Wolfram squeaked, peeking out from behind his tall, older brother to look at his stern oldest one.

"What's the problem this time?" the administrator asked darkly. He'd just returned from a trip to the water closet and wasn't in the mood to deal with anything else but compiling, sorting, and distributing the maou's paperwork that kept piling up.

"We have," Conrad said, showing his firm grip on Wolfram's wrist, "a little issue to discuss in Wolfram's office."

"Office?"

"Office."

The older man frowned. "You mean his old bedroom?"

"It's an office now," Conrad said with an amused edge.

Wolfram's eyes blazed again. "It's my quarters and I can call it anything that I like."

"Of course," Conrad agreed all too easily but didn't release his hold on Wolfram. "Off we go," he went on—towing Wolfram behind him and, much to the blond's dismay, Gwendal patiently following up the rear.

"Why don't you help me?" the blond complained over his shoulder, giving his arm a tug as he was dragged left into another corridor. His heels left little black scrapes.

"Because I don't want to," Gwendal drawled.

"But…Brother!"

"Oh, don't 'But Brother' me…unless you want me to call Mother in on this little tête-à-tête."

Wolfram's green eyes became impossibly wide and rounded. "No! I mean…" He thought about it again. "No-o-o!"

"Then, there you have it," Gwendal said, his tone getting loftier as the door came into view. "Either that or…"

"Or," Wolfram practically choked the word with trepidation.

"Or…I place you on administrative leave…"

Shocked, Wolfram whipped his head in Gwendal's direction as he shoved his key unceremoniously into Conrad's open palm. "Wait! What? Oh, no you don't! You'll do no such thing!" He wagged a finger with his free hand.

The door swung open with a heavy groan and, almost instantly, Wolfram found himself being yanked inside cruelly by his arm.

"Just watch me," Gwendal said as he closed the door behind them.

"But, I'm the Prince Consort!" muffled from inside the room.

A Gwendal growl answered, "Then, act like it!"


Darling:

I have witnessed countless acts of cruelty against you by The Demon King. How you have managed to withstand such agony is beyond this simple lover. Only this morning did I view him in The Royal Gardens with that spineless interloper, von Christ. How can you withstand these attentions thrust upon your husband's every encounter with the man? Why does His Majesty not simply explain that these embraces and brazen exclamations of affection are unwanted? But, fear not… They are not like you and I, my love, for we will escape these bonds for far greater ones. We will come together when the time is right and flee to a haven no one may follow.

Wait for that time and wait for me.

The messenger carrying the letter to the castle was a little girl who'd been paid in candy and a silver coin for her parents hung heavily in her tiny pocket. Surely, the guards at the gate would take the letter. The old derelict in the village who'd given it to her said to smile sweetly. And any child with both front teeth missing was a joy to behold. So, she handed the letter over with a broad smile to the nearest Mazoku guard, a man with five children back home, who gladly took the letter.


She tapped a finger against the table with concentration, not unlike the same look Wolfram would give under the same circumstance. He just couldn't get out of his head how much his daughter and his husband—and he was till getting used to the word "husband"—were alike. Yuuri smiled at Greta as she made her move. The two of them were in Greta's new room—decorated in pinks and purples by Lady Cheri. It was just the right room for a young lady who needed a bit of peace and quiet from the rest of the castle. The more secluded spot (which had, previously, been an elaborate sewing room) was fine for the teen. No more accidentally overhearing Wolfram bellow "Wimp!" in the night followed by words he'd blush if he only knew she learned them from him.

"This place is nice," Yuuri said happily, picking up a piece of alexandrite and pushing it three spaces to the left with the tip of his finger. In this game, purple stones could only move a maximum of three squares per turn.

"It sure is," Greta returned, pushing a rectangular piece of rose quartz one space forward. The stone was the same color as the pillows on her canopy bed, all draped in silks.

"Have you…Have you seen much of Wolfram lately?" he asked hesitantly, but felt like he was checking up on the proud Mazoku.

Greta shrugged a little bit. "Seen…how?" She tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her left ear as she studied the white game board with black squares. "We did have a morning snack together before he went back to writing his book."

"Book?" Yuuri blinked curiously at that.

Greta quirked a grin. Sometimes, she just could not understand her fathers.

"Um…he's writing a training manual using the Royal Library. That's how he's spending his afternoons these days." Greta's eyes sparkled a little when she added, "It's such a neat project and he's even doing all of the artwork and illustrations himself."

Yuuri's grin grew shaky as he started to imagine all of the hideous, misshapen images. What was supposed to be "soldiers" could easily be mistaken for bear-bees with broken wings or stick figures gone horribly, horribly wrong. Maybe, the reason why Wolfram couldn't paint and Gwendal couldn't get a knitted figure right was genetic? He'd have to ponder it a little more to see if Conrad failed in art, too.

"He's quite good," Greta went on, "the illustrations of swords… and soldiers in those fighting stances, I mean. Wanna see? He gave me a few sketches."

Yuuri laughed nervously with a hand behind his head. He didn't need more trouble where the blond was concerned. "I'd…uh…rather finish our game of Jewels' Crusade." He eyed the shimmering rock in his hand and was certain that it was, indeed, a blue and white diamond.

Greta rolled a bloodstone between her thumb and forefinger. "Yuuri, can I ask you a question?" She cocked her head cutely to one side. She tried to keep a smile on her face.

The double black nodded at her. There was nothing that Greta could ask that would be a bother to him. "Go ahead."

"Well…I know that you and Wolfram got married by accident and everything…but…" She looked to him, plucking up the courage somehow. "You don't really love him, do you?"

Yuuri's face fell at that. He'd always assumed she'd say the opposite. Hoped for it so that they'd be a family someday.

"It's fine," she sighed heavily after the silence that followed began to stretch on. Feeling awkward, she moved a piece of lapis one space backward. "It's just that…"

"Just what?" Yuuri could barely utter the words. In his lap, he was holding a piece of tiger's eye in the palm of his shaking hand.

"My Coming of Age party will be here before I know it and I…" That unruly curl was coming back to tickle her face again. "I just don't…" She frowned up at Yuuri, trying to phrase it as best she could. "In the future, I don't…I mean I…" Greta fidgeted. "…An engagement to someone…to someone I don't want and never will. In other words…

In other words… Yuuri blinked.

"I don't want to be like you."


Yuuri walked down towards his chambers as though waking from a bad dream. Greta had told him more than he expected. There really was such as thing as "too much truth." He could still hear her say, "You're not even wearing your wedding ring. Everyone knows. I mean, they can see it, can't they? What the two of you are really like together, I mean…? But, you're friends and that's still good. When you tell him, it will break his heart…but he'll get through it. He's strong."

Yuuri lowered his head and shoved his right hand in his pocket—feeling the gold band and pushing his thumb through the hole as he went; toying with it.

I understand what you're saying, Greta, but you don't realize… I can't let go of Wolfram. And I don't want anything to change. I want to be together, just like this, and keep the life that I have now. I've lived in Shin Makoku long enough to know that I have it good—a fantastic daughter, loyal advisors, and friends. Most of all, I have Wolfram by me, telling me the way things are and how to do them right without embarrassing myself. He isn't always very trusting, but that's okay. It leaves me free to trust openly. And if I fall, he'll fall with me. I won't be alone or abandoned in this life. And the only way I ever will be is… if I mess up and make it that way.

Make him leave me…

Yuuri hung his head.

I think Wolfram wants the same thing I do: a happy life. Together.

His eyes started to water. He rubbed his nose absently.

The problem was never him; it was always me. And if my relationship with Wolfram dies, the person to blame will be me. Stupid, weak, "me."

"Ah, Yuuri Heika," came a silky voice to his right. Surprised, Yuuri lifted his head.


Wolfram was tossed lightly onto the foot of his bed. Looking up, he could see both older brothers glowering down at him with hands resting on hips.

"You'll tell us everything you know, Wolfram," Gwendal said, the interrogation starting immediately.

"Gwendal!" he growled back in his brattiest tone, arms folded defensively across his chest.

"It would really behoove you to do it," Conrad chimed in with an overly polite smile crossing his lips. Wolfram wasn't fooled, though. It was all horribly fake.

"Hmph!"

Conrad eyed the silver ring dangling from the leather strap at Wolfram's neck. "You told me to watch over your husband," he began. "Knowing that I would do that anyway, why would you ask?"

"I'm sorry I did." He crossed his ankles to get more comfortable. He'd be here awhile by the looks of things.

Gwendal narrowed his eyes. "What? No jealousy? No 'Yuuri is mine, hands off' or anything along those lines?"

"Not a word," Conrad answered with a finger scratching his cheek as he thought back on it. Then, he turned to Wolfram. "Maybe, I've never made myself absolutely clear on this subject. And, probably, I should have long ago. My interest in Yuuri…" he began and noted a spark of fear in green eyes. It all seemed so inane to Conrad. "…Was never anything beyond godfather. I'd never be so cruel as to try to separate the two of you. And, while he is my king…" He ruffled Wolfram's blond hair briefly. "…You are my little brother."

For only one beat of his heart did Wolfram look up at Conrad's brown eyes. And, in that moment, Wolfram was a small child again with the same expression he always held when his mother went far away on a trip.

Conrad sat on the bed next to Wolfram, shoulder pressed against shoulder. "So, what is it? Truthfully? We're here to help you and we know it has something to do with your husband." He emphasized the "your" part for a reason.

On Wolfram's opposite side, Gwendal took a seat with his arms folded. "I'm not clear on the details…but I do care…as well." He coughed into his fist and glanced away, the long ponytail in the back swished and Wolfram batted it away as he used to in the days before he got too big to sit on Brother's lap.

The blond leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, expression melting into something pensive. "The letters are starting to get to me. But, I'm not feeble!" He flashed his eyes at Gwendal. "And I'm not weak-willed," he glanced at Conrad.

"Letters?" Gwendal narrowed his eyebrows at that.

"From…whom…?" Conrad wrapped an arm around Wolfram's shoulders, which was easily shrugged off. A warning glare was given to the tall, brunette man giving him the "Didn't I just tell you I'm not weak?" vibe. But, then, in the next second, all of Wolfram's frustration drained away with the image of a naïve, smiling Yuuri in his head.

Wolfram hated himself. What if he made a mistake now? What if he was about to? One wrong move and an opportunity open to the enemy would be all it would take.

"I…I don't know…" He slouched forward, hands covering his face. "But, I…"

Gwendal narrowed his eyes as he watched his brother. "From an admirer again? You've had those problems before. But, I believed things got better once you became engaged to Yuuri Heika."

"They're not those kinds of letters…exactly." Wolfram shut his eyes in exhaustion as he took his hands away.

"They're not…what?" Gwendal felt uncomfortable as a thousand scenarios played out in his head. "Then, exactly what kind are they?"

"Kind of…Personal?" Wolfram hinted.

"You mean…?" Gwendal looked scandalized.

Green eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, no! It's not like that entirely. Though, the writer did, somehow, now that I frequent The Maou's Bath and what scented shampoo I use, the color of my towel…which side of Yuuri's bed I sleep on." His voice got quieter near the end.

"Do you have any of these letters?" Conrad asked him carefully as to not upset the blond further.

"I stared to burn them, but…for some reason…I've kept a number of them." He glanced to Gwendal. "It's not like I can't handle myself, I just…"

The administrator stood up, offering a hand to his youngest brother. "Take us to them."

Wolfram's lower jaw opened a little. "Wha-? Now?"

The hand was still there as was the order to get up. But the blond didn't move. Gwendal threw a glance to Conrad, got a nod, and they both took an arm. Wolfram was lifted up on his feet

"I don't want to…" He shook his head.

"Tell me, Wolfram," Gwendal said with a stern voice coming to him—the kind he reserved for Mazoku Army military drills and exercises—"is there even the most remote possibility that Yuuri Heika is being threatened?"

The look on Wolfram's face was the answer. Of course, he was. Otherwise, why would Wolfram even care?

"Damn it!" Gwendal cursed under his breath.

Conrad sighed at them both and put a hand to his head. This was one of those times when it was best to keep silent.


Peeking through the trees, the sun was sinking lower—stretching long shadows against the thick grass across from The Royal Greenhouse. Late as it was in the day, Wolfram needed to get away from everyone. He glanced at a window set up high over his right shoulder. It was Gwendal's office. He wondered, briefly, if the man was still sitting there behind his desk. Wolfram could just imagine Gwendal perusing with a deepening scowl over the small stack of letters that had been tied together with a thin piece of hemp string.

Maybe, it's for the best. Maybe, just maybe, Brother can figure out something that I missed. It was stupid of me to burn some of the letters, though. A vital clue might have gone up in smoke.

A shiver ran through Wolfram as he scanned his surroundings. No one. He was alone…or, at least, he thought so.

Good… and let it stay that way.

But, then, he felt it—a presence. There was someone with him.

The blond glanced at the greenhouse—a contained place made up of glass. No, that would not be wise and he wouldn't have enough room to fight if he needed to. Turning, he made his way for the back end of the garden. People usually frequented the place. But, with preparations going on for dinner, he guessed that most of the castle was getting ready for the evening meal.

He walked off, turning his head casually as he went. Again, there seemed to be no one. But, his instincts said otherwise.

The Wolfram thought he caught a glimpse of a moving shadow, but he could have been wrong. (And the last thing he needed was to look ridiculous by stabbing a tree limb.)

With a hand on the hilt of his sword, Wolfram continued on. He passed both low and high hedges with tall shadows spreading out. And shrubby plants greeting him as the wind blew against them.

The castle began to shrink in the background. He would have turned in the direction of home had it not been the fact that the presence seemed to stand in the way of that safety.

He moved on. And, still, the presence followed. As a soldier, he'd been trained to feel it and then strike accordingly.

Where can I…? His head turned left and right.

There was a grotto where he used to play "fort" when he was a child. It was very private and he'd hidden there often when he was mad at his Mother for insisting on vegetables with meals. It was tucked away with a canopy of cascading pink, thornless roses. The blond made his way for it. That would be the place where he would deal with the intruder. Only, this time, it would be a real life ambush.

Just as always, there was a long rose hedge leading to the cave-like structure of the grotto. The maou who ruled four hundred years ago had ordered it to be built on the whim of his second illegitimate daughter who fancied tiny pink flowers.

Wolfram glanced around himself casually. Still no one. With the back of his hand, the blond lifted the cascading flowers and stepped inside. At his full height, there was still a foot of room above his head. The greenery hung down in awkward, but sweet smelling, wiry canes.

And, then, the shadow appeared. A leg. No, two.

Wolfram narrowed his eyes at the spot on the grass as he quietly unsheathed his sword, having to crook his arm at an unnatural angle in order to do it. He could hear muffled footfalls on the grass. A pause. And then, there was another.

"Damn it," he hissed lowly under his breath.

Wolfram could feel his heart pounding against his ribs and his warrior's blood singing to him. It was necessary and he would strike without mercy if the person was armed.

In a flash, Wolfram appeared outside the grotto with a sword aimed at Yuuri's chest.

"Y-Yuuri?" Emerald eyes widened at the discovery.

"Wolfram?" the double black managed to screech, not only shocked that the blond appeared out of thin air but at the green eyes that had spelled "death" so clearly only a second ago.

"Yuuri, what are you…?" Wolfram felt it again. His eyes darted to the left and right. This wasn't the presence he'd sensed earlier. His husband. No, this one had the feeling of a hunter, and Yuuri's always had the feeling of "joyful anticipation."

A twig snapped.

With little effort, he grabbed Yuuri around the wrist and pulled him into the grotto with him.

"Wolfram, I…?" Yuuri began as the blond held his sword so that the tip barely touched the curtain of cascading roses—ready to draw blood at a moment's notice. He shot a "shut up" glare at Yuuri while he was at it.

Immediately, another shadow appeared on the grass in front of the grotto. The darkness waved slightly as though it couldn't decide its next move.

"Wol -?" Yuuri began but found himself suddenly against the side of the wall with Wolfram's body pressing in. Forcefully, Wolfram had cupped his left hand tightly over Yuuri's mouth. Onyx eyes bulged at him and the body suddenly went rigid. Yuuri's betrayed and fearful look was enough to dishearten the blond Mazoku soldier. Apparently, it didn't take much physical intimacy laced with aggression, no matter the circumstances, to terrify.

I know! I know, Yuuri. I get it. I've understood this all along. Why could you never see that?

The look cut into him and forced its way inside.

And no more 'You would never hurt me' speeches. I hate it when you lie to yourself.

Compounding the problem from the danger outside, the blond had another difficulty. In fact, it was a rather personal one. Yuuri and Wolfram were close—very close. And he had to ignore the soft, warm breaths caressing his palm. Wolfram's palms, as with all fire wielders, were erogenous zones and it was killing him to have his left palm pressed against Yuuri's lips. If the double black even tried to lick his lips at this point, the blond wasn't sure if he could hold back—something that would reinforce all of Yuuri's phobias.

Damn it, Yuuri…

Wolfram swallowed hard and closed his eyes briefly as Yuuri released another warm breath.

"Someone," Wolfram mouthed the word and he gestured to the grass beyond them with his eyes.

Snapping out of it, Yuuri followed his meaning and saw the shadow. "Oh, so that's it," was written on his expression and he inexplicably, from Wolfram's perspective, relaxed. And, in the next moment, it became clear exactly why. This castle was home to the double black, and he was naïve enough to believe that he was perfectly safe.

It was Wolfram who had the problem.

The shadow on the grass continued to search. And, at one point, it seemed to be regarding the grotto.

With slow and determined movements, Wolfram repositioned his body against Yuuri—now making himself a protective shield. There wasn't much room (and his arm was beginning to ache with the sword in hand), but he'd be able to still block any advances toward Yuuri should a sword suddenly stab its way into the mouth of the grotto.

Like leading a dance, he forced Yuuri to make small, quiet movements in the right positions. Then, Wolfram's body continued to gently wrap itself around the precious burden.

Keeping him quiet.

Keeping him safe.

They remained like that for a time—molded together, barely breathing.

As the shadow moved away, with the sound of muffled footsteps, Wolfram heaved a sigh of relief and rested his head on Yuuri's shoulder. His hand slipped away from his husband's mouth. And the other hand now lowered the sword.

"Are you okay, Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered to him.

Not thinking, Wolfram's arm found its way around Yuuri's waist and squeezed his husband against himself for a second. "The important part is that…you're safe. That's all that matters." His head still rested heavily on Yuuri's shoulder as the adrenaline rush consumed him. He had been ready to fight for their lives and his body still shook with need. And, of course, there was no way Yuuri would understand that. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Is it okay if we stay like this for a minute longer?" He rubbed his face into the side of Yuuri's neck. It tickled. But, to the blond's surprise, Yuuri's hands went to his back, rubbing against it soothingly in slow, deep circles.

"Anything you want…"

Instead of being comforted, he cringed.

What I want…is to not be selfish anymore. What I want…is for you to stay alive…even if it means shredding my soul to do it.

"I'll protect you…always, Yuuri." The words were whispered as though it had always been a secret between them. He gave a warm hug with the scent of summer—of sunflowers—filling the double black's senses.

"Yeah, I know."


Instead of eating dinner, Wolfram ordered that his horse be saddled. He left openly, making sure that as many people as possible watched him leave. On the way to dinner, Greta stopped him and asked if he was coming, too, or had he "gotten into another argument with Yuuri?" Wolfram gave the usual assuring smile that he had more than enough practice using and told her he was going to Shinou's Temple to seek out the sage.

There were slight murmurs in the hallway. Yes, they'd heard. There were a few faces he didn't recognize but that was fine. They all knew and, soon, Yuuri and his family would know as well.

Wolfram gave Greta a slight wave as he left for the stables. Along the way, he'd patted himself on the back for the skillful way he'd done it.

After all of that work, the ride was short and uneventful. Wolfram couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. He didn't have the sense of being followed or the kind of desperation—almost blood lust—that had come after him earlier. He was grateful for that. But, as the temple loomed in the distance, Wolfram felt a weight coming upon him, pressing him down.

It was common knowledge that Wolfram tried his best to put some distance between himself and The Great Sage of Shin Makoku. There was something between them—an awkwardness—that he couldn't get a grasp on and didn't know how to make disappear. Even for Yuuri's sake, and he'd asked Wolfram more than once "to be nice," Wolfram just couldn't make it happen. Still, in this case, Wolfram would do his best to ignore the feeling. And, hopefully, Murata would have some advice for him. Yes, his older brothers now knew what was up—to a certain degree, at least. But the worst of the letters, the most insulting ones, had been burned to a crisp.

The blond sighed to himself, now being able to make out the gate to the temple. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. And, in all likelihood, the sage would be his usual, mind numbingly annoying and secretive self.


Green eyes squinted at the person a few feet ahead of him. There was a petit, brunette shrine maiden waiting patiently by the front gate with a pleasant smile on her face. He'd wondered, briefly, how long she'd been standing there. Wolfram would have asked, but it was only a minor, passing thought. Mentally, he shrugged it off. He wasn't here for pleasantries.

As politeness dictated, Wolfram nodded to her and then got down from his white steed—giving his prized horse a calming pat on the nose before moving on.

Being here and waited on… It felt awkward. This wasn't exactly what he was banking on when he chose to come here.

Not saying a word, the shrine maiden took the steed as another woman, much taller and with red hair, opened the door. She invited him in with a simple gesture to which Wolfram gave another nod.

These greetings are not by accident. Did The Great Sage know I was coming? If so, how?

Two guards, leaning somewhat casually but armed with spears, flanked the entrance and whispered across to each other in low tones. Not so secretively, their eyes followed Wolfram's lithe form as it passed.

The eyes were still on him, burning into his back. He could feel it. Being watched bothered him—maybe more so because of the letters. It wasn't as though he grew up out of the spotlight. He'd always been the "golden child" and the center of attention. At one point, back when he was 20, he'd tried to convince a tutor—who kept too close an eye on him and never let up—that he, and not the sun, was the center of the universe. Wolfram had even conjured up balls of fire as a demonstration to prove his point. Sadly, his tutor was also a fire wielder and created a fire snake that ate all of the rotating orbs he'd created. Following that, Wolfram just refused to study anything at all until he got a new tutor—which he did.

Keeping his head held high, the Prince Consort passed shrine maidens moving to and fro. And, like a well choreographed dance, one woman traded places with another. So, now, he was following a shrine maiden with auburn hair and lavender eyes.

"This way," she said, opening a doorway leading to a large chamber within the temple that Wolfram had never seen before. The blond took a cautious step forward, stopped, and turned to where she was standing. His fingers, naturally, went to the strap around his neck and fingered the silver ring. "In here? Wait, but I…" The blond tried to explain but his escort had already disappeared down the next corridor. "I came to see The Great Sage," he said to nobody. His arms flopped down at his sides in exasperation.

These women are impossible! he thought as he stepped in.

Now gazing at the room, the blond could see water rushing from the ceiling. In fact, Wolfram could make out two waterfalls pouring into a deep, blue-tiled basin filled with seven orange and white kohaku koi fish with an additional fish, a black butterfly koi, hiding in the back corner giving the newcomer a wary look with its dark eyes. Not pleased with the direct stare, it swished its tail and took off in the search for more food at the bottom. The rest of the room was plain with the exception of a finely embroidered linen-covered altar and wall sconces burning candles carrying a heavy, pumpkin-spice scent.

The smell was wonderful, though—just like a certain rich, iced-sugar cake Wolfram adored as a child. It filled his senses and made the room seem comfortable, relaxing. He took a deep breath.

Another.

He put a hand to his head.

Almost… too much.

"Well, I think you'll talk to me," came from a hazy shadow forming next to the altar. And Wolfram bit on his lower lip, straightening himself and steadying himself as he met eye to eye.

"Shinou Heika," Wolfram said with reverence, head dipping low. His leather strap with the ring dangled briefly.

Wolfram may not have always liked the dominating spirit, but showing disrespect was asking for trouble on a silver platter. Unlike Yuuri, Shinou was a trickster by nature and "Payback" was a name he often went by.

"Lord Wolfram," was said pleasantly and with expectation. But, there was a strange edge to his blue eyes—as though all the young man who stood before him would have to do is simply remain as he was. Do nothing.

"Ah…yes…" Wolfram glanced at the ancient stone floor, collecting himself, trying to find the appropriate words to explain with dignity and self-respect. He'd never had a problem with this before, expressing himself. Then again, he'd never had an issue like this. And he wasn't entirely sure that his brothers could help. Therefore, The Great Sage was his next choice, not Shinou. And, certainly, not being alone with the spirit right now.

"You have a…problem? Am I correct?" With a gallant shake of his blond locks, Shinou took a step closer to the younger man. "Well, technically, you have multiple difficulties with your current lifestyle situation. But, there's only one issue pressing enough to come here."

Wolfram glanced up into what had become surprisingly hard, blue eyes. "Yes…sir. One could say that." And, with that answer, all thoughts of meeting Murata fled his mind. For, now that they were standing so closely together, it suddenly occurred to Wolfram that their faces—their bodies, in fact—looked so much alike, it was unsettling. But, it was more than that. The consort told himself it was because the two of them were alone. And the previous times he'd been with the spirit were times when Shinou had taken advantage and caused more than enough trouble for everyone to deal with.

"And I just did," Shinou said, flipping his extravagantly over-designed cape against one shoulder. "Needless to say, your beauty has found a way to complicate things between yourself and your new husband." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now, do you go by 'Prince Consort' or 'Royal Consort' now?"

Hearing those words, something in Wolfram's heart snapped.

"Husband? We were never supposed to be married in the first place," the young blond growled in a frustrated undertone. "It was never supposed to go that far. We'd all agreed. But, then, the ceremony kept going on…and on. When I realized it, I told myself that the assassins would make their move just before the kiss...and…"

"I'm sure the people you captured at the wedding ceremony have been of no help…?" There was a winning smile and Shinou disappeared from where he stood before the blond young man only to reappear, eerily, beside him. Involuntarily, Wolfram took a step away. Shinou was close again, almost hovering.

"Well…yes," the Royal Consort said harshly to cover up his uneasy feelings. Wolfram forced his shoulders back. "In spite of the fact that they tried to kill him, Yuuri refuses to allow the traditional interrogation techniques other than simply locking the prisoners up in the stuffy dungeon to await trial."

"He is merciful," Shinou baited and enjoyed Wolfram rolling his eyes at that. The young Mazoku was fun to tease and he took great pleasure in it. "So, what have you come to ask?" the spirit said, getting to the point.

"Oh...yes." Wolfram felt foolish. He'd forgotten himself. "I had come here to ask The Great Sage about some…letters…I'd been receiving. I wanted to know the best way to handle them." Then, he clasped his hands behind his back as another wave of something assaulted his senses. Lips parted dumbly, the young blond dug in his nails hard until the sensation passed. "But, I…suspect," Wolfram forcing himself to go on, pupils widening, "that you already know about them…somehow."

There was a shrug and a twirl of a cape's edge. "I learn about things from different sources."

Wolfram squeezed his hands together. Here was his chance to ask the all-knowledgeable Shinou, but he felt so strange—so out of focus. "Then, if I may, might I be able to ask your opinion on the method to deal with…"

"The person stalking you and Yuuri Heika?" Shinou asked almost innocently.

Yes, he knew. Shinou always knew when things involved his favorite king and his direct (not to mention thunderous, loyal, opinionated, and obnoxious) descendant who shared his face.

The young blond muttered an uncomfortable "yes" vaguely. Following, Wolfram straightened to his full height and lifted his chin. "I would do anything…if it kept Yuuri safe…"

Shinou's smile was crooked. He tilted his head as Wolfram staggered, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Any…thing…" He couldn't grasp onto the next thought, to the next moment. And his knees buckled—sending him directly to the stone floor as Murata ventured into the room, not even having time to address anyone.

Wolfram was lying there—emerald eyes open but seeing nothing. His mind blank; his body limp in a curved, almost fetal position.

"What happened?!" Murata demanded, gathering up the young blond into his arms with difficulty. He tilted the head back but it was more like holding a doll filled with sand—simply dead weight—and it took a great deal of effort to keep from shouting in a panic at Shinou once the corner of Wolfram's lip started to bleed. A thin blood trail made its way down to the chin.

"Oi! Von Bielefeld! Wake up," Murata Ken ordered, patting the right cheek with the palm of his hand rapidly. The body sagged again, making the sage struggle to keep a grip. With another attempt, Murata managed to bring Wolfram up against his chest, cradling him. "We've got to do something," he continued when Shinou didn't make a move, "…call the temple's healer, Egeria."

"I could try. Do you want me to?" was asked quietly as he observed the pair on floor by his feet with a sense of detachment.

"Shinou, you're being impossible! Of course, I do," came from between grinding teeth.

"Then, place him on the altar."