Memories of Sand Chapter 8
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Memories of Sand Chapter 8 – To Forget
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Wolfram heard the king call after him, but he kept running.
Nausea forgotten thanks to his panic, Wolfram weaved throughout the corridors of the ship until he found the tiny cabin he shared with Murata. He stopped and turned around to see if the king had followed him. Finding himself completely alone, he leaned against the wall as he tried to calm himself.
It had been too much. The shock followed by the overwhelming yearning when the king pulled Wolfram into his arms and kissed him left Wolfram reeling. The years of being used for the sake of survival left Wolfram with the inability to understand what an actual affectionate kiss felt like. King Yuuri had been so passionate and warm as he held Wolfram close. For the first time, Wolfram felt wanted…loved.
His brain just kept replaying the scene over and over again as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. King Yuuri had kissed him. He had kissed him despite seeing his disfigurement and thinking that Wolfram was probably some escaped criminal.
'It doesn't matter what you did before you came here. It won't change how I see you.'
"Yes, it would," Wolfram hissed bitterly, subconsciously reaching up to adjust the ever-present cloth that covered his face. Maybe Yuuri would forgive him for being a petty thief, but he doubted Yuuri would accept his life as a prostitute.
"I hate my life…" Wolfram muttered into the dark.
But he couldn't deny, as much as he wished he could, what he felt for the king. The feeling of déjà vu and familiarity he felt being in the king's presence had grown now that they had kissed. A part of him wanted to go back and find King Yuuri, just to experience those feelings again.
Wolfram shook his head to dissipate the noisy thoughts. For the millionth time, the promise of money was weakening the more he followed Murata's conspiracy. It wasn't as worth it as it had been. He wanted to go back to being normal again.
Wolfram sluggishly made his way to the cabin. He opened the door and squinted at the bright light from the dozen or so lamps lining the room with Murata seated crossed-legged on his narrow cot with that damned spellbook in his lap.
"There you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Murata said casually and then paused when he saw Wolfram's distress. "What's wrong? You look startled."
"Why didn't you come looking for me?!" Wolfram demanded angrily. "You just left me on the deck!"
Murata watched Wolfram carefully as he set the book down. "I did come looking for you. When I finished my chores, I noticed you weren't the room anymore. I came up to the deck to find you and I saw the king caring for you, so I left you alone."
Murata and his damned plan to get him alone with the king! "He took me to his room!" Wolfram blurted out.
Murata's interest was piqued. "Really? Is that why you look so alarmed? What happened?"
Wolfram paused. Suddenly embarrassed about what had occurred. He didn't know how to explain the king's abnormal behavior and his reaction.
"Did he hurt you?" Murata asked when Wolfram failed to respond.
"No," Wolfram said quickly. "He didn't hurt me. He…helped me to his room where he used his healing magic on me. I was out of it so I woke up when he tried to take my shirt off."
Murata's eyes went wide. "He saw your scars?"
Wolfram nodded with a small grimace.
Book completely forgotten, Murata shifted to face Wolfram completely. "What happened then?"
"I don't know!" Wolfram said in frustration. "He asked me how I got them. I said I didn't know. He said some other stuff and then he kissed me!"
"He kissed you?" Murata echoed in astonishment. He then looked at Wolfram intensely. "What did you do?"
Wolfram struggled to find the right words. He still hadn't quite comprehended what had happened and Murata's scrutinizing stare wasn't helping. "I pushed him away."
"I see…" Murata said noncommittally. "This is showing promise…."
"Promise?" Wolfram became irritated at Murata's disregard. "The king's decided he has a crush on me for no real reason and I feel like I'm going insane. And it's all your fault!"
"How is it my fault?" The calm way Murata spoke just incensed Wolfram further.
"If you hadn't come along, I would still have a normal life! I'd be back in my flat, by myself, no vomiting, no lovestruck kings, and no so-called spells!"
"You really think that?" Murata asked evenly.
"Yes!"
"It wouldn't have mattered if I came into your life now or later or never," Murata explained. "Your and the king's behavior proves that the spell is weakening….and the fact that he kissed you shows that it's weakening even faster than I previously thought. Even if you and I had never met, your memories would still continue to return until you remembered the truth on your own. Albeit slower, since you wouldn't have the stimuli of the king to jog your memories."
Murata stood up to face Wolfram. "I understand that this is overwhelming. But don't think that the dreams and visions you've had the past few days mean absolutely nothing. Your lack of a memory is proof enough that your supposed 'normal' life isn't what it appears to be."
"But it is normal!" Wolfram protested.
Murata sighed. "I think that's the spell talking. You were never this fearful or devoted to lying to yourself."
"Stop telling me how I should be!" Wolfram barked. "You don't know anything about me! As soon as we get to shore, I'm quitting and finding a new place for myself in Shou Cimarron – far away from you and some stupid conspiracy with the demon kingdom!"
Murata huffed. "Good luck with that. I doubt you'll be able to work being in such close proximity to the esoteric stones."
"The what now?"
"Esoteric stones," Murata repeated. "They're located throughout the human lands. They're the one weakness to demon magic because they neutralize it. With your strong bond to fire magic, you'll barely be able to function if you go anywhere near a mine or natural outcrop of esoteric stones. That's part of what is making you so sick. It's more than just motion sickness. You're being affected because of your strong bond with magic."
"Oh don't get started on that again!" Wolfram groaned. "So I can use magic. Are you gonna tell me I can raise the dead too?"
"No," Murata said casually. "But a bond with the elemental spirits won't go away because of the vector spell."
Wolfram just huffed and for the trillionth time he asked himself why he was here and if the money was worth it.
"I'm close to deciphering the spell," Murata said after a tense pause.
"Are you now?" Wolfram said dryly.
If his skepticism bothered Murata, the odd man didn't show it. Instead, he went back to the book where it lay on the bed and flipped through a few pages before pointing to a particular paragraph.
"The spell has several layers," Murata explained scanning the words on the pages. "To destroy the spell completely would require removing it from the vector itself – in this case, King Yuuri. The spell relies on the king's immense magic to deceive the entire kingdom."
"How does it use the king's magic?" Wolfram asked, slightly curious despite himself.
"There's no easy way to explain it," Murata said. "To do so would require an intense study of the philosophies and theories behind magic and spiritual energies. It's essentially magic and the life force of every sentient being. All magic –human and demon – is based in the same spiritual energy and the bonds we create with each other and with the spirit realm."
Murata sat down with the book in his lap as he tried to gather his thoughts. "For example – even though you don't believe me – you're a fire wielder. That means you created a spiritual bond with the spirits of fire and you call upon them when you use your fire magic. You are not the one creating the magic. You're borrowing it – in a way - from the fire spirits via your spiritual connection with them. Make sense?"
Wolfram wasn't quite getting it. He nodded for Murata to continue.
"As a result, you are connected to the spirits of fire and ultimately, to the spirit world. The vector spell works on this principle. Every living being has some connection to the spirit realm. It's those that can make an actual bond with the spirits that can use magic. That's essentially what happens when you make a contract with the elemental spirits."
"Okay…" Wolfram said slowly, trying to decipher this new information.
"The vector spell," Murata continued. "Hijacks this bond and uses it to influence all beings that are connected to the spirit realm through their life force. It does this by choosing a vector that has an incredibly strong connection to the spirit world. The stronger the vector's connection to the spirit realm, the stronger the influence of the vector spell."
That was slowly starting to make sense to Wolfram.
"King Yuuri has the strongest raw magic of any other person in this world. This means that his spiritual connection is stronger than anyone else's. So by hijacking his magic, Saralegui was able to deceive an entire country. Those closest to the king were the most affected, while those further away are less affected."
"So what about the other countries then?" Wolfram interjected. "Wouldn't they notice?"
Murata smiled cynically. "That's what makes Saralegui's rendition of this spell so genius. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm rather impressed he pulled this off at all. The vector spell can work on two layers; geographical proximity and relational proximity. Saralegui reconfigured the spell to do both and cast a wide net of the spell's influence. He then left everything else up to the apathy and gullibility of those with less of a connection to Yuuri and Shin Makoku. You get me so far?"
"But if I was engaged to Yuuri and the heir to this super important family – as you said, wouldn't people still notice I was missing then?"
"Royal fiancés come and go, alliances change, wars end and start, and life just goes on." Murata said ruefully. "Even if someone remembered that King Yuuri had a fiancé before Saralegui, they would be likely to just shrug and move on. No one cares."
It was slowly starting to sink in. Saralegui must have been an incredibly powerful sorcerer to have successfully cast such a spell. So Saralegui essentially enchanted those closest to Yuuri and those in power and let the spell catch people of less influence. Once he had captured everyone with a close relationship to Yuuri, the rest basically fell into place. Those less influenced by the spell had little influence over Yuuri or anyone in general so whether or not they fell through the cracks wasn't of concern to Saralegui.
"This brings me to another issue," Murata continued, flipping to another page. "A spell of this scale requires an incredible amount of energy. It can only be sustained for a limited amount of time before a new vector needs to be chosen. From the time the spell is cast, it gradually drains the life force of the vector. If the spell isn't broken or a new vector found, then the original vector will essentially fade away."
Wolfram's eyes widened. "It'll kill King Yuuri?"
Murata nodded solemnly. "It will also permanently shorten his life. I don't know the extent to which it has affected Shibuya's life span, but I do know that if it isn't broken soon, he will eventually waste away. His life force won't have the energy to sustain itself."
King Yuuri couldn't die! He didn't deserve that. The monarch was too kind of a person to have his life just stolen like that. Wolfram thought of Yuuri's bright eyes going dull from exhaustion and the king dying alone on a bed.
Fear and confusion forgotten for the time being, Wolfram felt a surge of protectiveness for the young king and indignation at his fate. Even if he still refused to believe Murata's stories, a part of him was still worried for the king, who had made him feel like a person for the first time in years. Though he and Yuuri were essentially strangers, he couldn't let something like this happen. What he felt for the king was too strong, even if he didn't fully understand it, to let him just allow the king to die like that.
"What will you do?" Wolfram asked.
"I think I can break the spell's hold on one person," Murata looked pointedly at Wolfram.
"Not Yuuri?"
Murata shook his head. "I can't pull this off by myself. If I'm going to break the spell's hold on Yuuri, I need someone powerful to assist me. I have magical powers, but they're not really for fighting. I need someone who can hold his own in battle."
"Who are we gonna find then?" Wolfram certainly couldn't fight. He definitely couldn't fight trained soldiers and a powerful magic user like Saralegui.
"We'll find someone," Murata said with a certainty that implied he knew who it was.
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Saralegui paced the room for the thousandth time. They were running late!
He swore under his breath as he nervously glanced at the mocking enchanted hourglass that sat in the center of the room. He couldn't tell if it was his own anxiety or reality that made the sand fall increasingly faster, collecting ominously at the bottom of the glass. The bottom well of the hourglass was now fuller than the top. Each fallen grain brought him closer and closer to the end of the spell and his reign. He only had one or two days left.
Ever since he sent out the urgent call for Yuuri and Lord Voltaire to come to him, he watched the sand like a hawk, rarely getting any restful sleep. When not watching the sand pour from one end to the other, he buried himself in ancient tomes, looking for any alternatives that could preserve the spell and his influence over the Continent. However, all the texts said the same thing; he needed a new vector.
He hadn't thought Yuuri's power would run out this fast. Someone with near god-like capabilities like Yuuri's should not have had any issue with supporting the vector spell for a number of years – definitely for four years. Perhaps his modifications of the spell demanded more power than he had expected.
Berias informed him that Yuuri and his entourage would arrive today – with Voltaire. The time it would take to set up the transfer spell would take the rest of the day, but Saralegui couldn't make the necessary preparations because he would be playing host to his fiancé and going through the etiquette of welcoming and caring for his guests. He would have to prepare the spell overnight.
He thought of how he could get his targets into the right place at the right time. He could always just have his guards capture them and force them into place. But doing so might exacerbate the already delicate hold of the spell and he didn't need to speed up the spell's expiration by antagonizing his puppets. He would have to be a little more devious.
He hoped that Voltaire's magic would be enough to sustain the spell until Yuuri's older brother arrived. Yuuri's brother was currently the only person with a power level comparable to that of Yuuri. If Yuuri's magic could sustain the vector spell for four years, then Saralegui was confident that Shouri could sustain it for at least that amount, or three years at the very least. That would buy him more time to track down that damned sage and make him the third vector.
Saralegui leaned heavily against the stone wall, angrily watching the hourglass continue to spill sand into the bottom well. He cursed himself for overlooking such a vital detail and for letting the sage get away unnoticed for so long. He thought for sure that he would be able to sense the sage through Yuuri's spiritual magic and the vector spell should the sage ever think to escape to his home world or use his magic in anyway. But the sage must have known this – or know that to use his magic in anyway would alert Saralegui. It was as if the man never existed.
The next twenty-four hours would have to go by flawlessly. There was no room for error. He would get Voltaire and Yuuri alone and in the same place so he could transfer the spell. He would do this by subtly using the vector spell to influence them to come to this very room without fuss. He could even drug them to make it easier to influence them with the spell. Were the spell stronger, he could just order them to follow his instructions, but with it so weak, he would rather not push it. This would require deviousness and nuance, but he was confident he could get what he wanted.
"Your Majesty…" Berias' voice cut through Saralegui's thoughts.
"What is it?" Saralegui answered shortly.
"King Yuuri and his entourage have reached the gate. They are approaching the palace now," Berias announced.
Finally!
"Excellent," Saralegui said as he pushed past Berias. "We can move on to the next step."
Berias followed Saralegui out to greet their guests. Saralegui contemplated the next few hours as he tried to put his plan into place. He started to relax slightly now that his fiancé and vector was nearby. The spell was just hours away from being secured and he wouldn't have to worry about it for a couple of months before he had to do it again with Yuuri's brother. He allowed himself to instead focus on getting some alone time with Yuuri as all this worrying had left him stressed.
"Sara!" Yuuri called from the carriage when it finally pulled up to the palace gates where Saralegui and Berias waited. Saralegui smiled as he watched his fiancé step out of the carriage with the assistance of a footman. Yuuri moved through the bustle of servants to greet Saralegui with a bright smile, though Sara noticed an odd stiffness about him.
"You're finally here," Saralegui said lovingly as Yuuri pulled him into an affectionate embrace.
"Why aren't you in bed?" Yuuri asked when he broke their kiss. "You're supposed to be resting!"
"I had to see you," Saralegui said with ease, looking at Yuuri tenderly. "I've been bedridden for days. I wanted to get up and move around."
"You certainly look okay," Yuuri observed, giving Saralegui a quick once-over.
"I'm doing much better," Saralegui explained. "If Berias hadn't acted so quickly, I would've been in a lot worse condition."
Yuuri immediately became worried. "That's right. I'm so sorry that happened! I was terrified when Gwendal gave me the news." He pulled Sara into another hug. "I'm just glad you're okay," he muttered into Saralegui's hair.
"Me too," Saralegui sighed, happy to be back in Yuuri's arms. "I'm just glad you're here,"
Yuuri smiled and pulled Saralegui into another kiss, not at all worried about the others seeing. Saralegui heard Berias order some servants around and greet Lord Weller and Lord Voltaire.
Saralegui loved this. This handsome young man was his. All worries about the spell weakened when Yuuri's touched him. He wasn't anxious. The spell would be renewed soon enough.
When they parted, Yuuri led Saralegui by the hand into the palace, asking him questions about his health and making plans to discuss this attempted assassination with their advisors.
Saralegui happened to glance behind him just in time to notice an odd looking young man watching them. The man quickly averted his gaze and went back to whatever he was doing. Saralegui sniffed, Yuuri's servants had no idea of propriety or their place, having enough nerve to make eye contact with him. But still, he couldn't shake the odd familiarity he felt when he saw the blond servant.
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It was good to see Sara well and recovering. The panic that Yuuri had felt when he heard the news of the assassination attempt dissipated now that he could hold and kiss his lover. It made the guilt fade…almost.
His guilt over thinking about William when he should have been worrying for his fiancés safety and handling the political ramifications. That night kept replaying over and over again in his mind despite his best efforts to distract himself or scold himself for being so selfish. Sara was nearly killed by some political assassin and here he was worrying about whether or not William would ever talk to him again.
He was such an ass.
Yuuri hadn't seen the servant since that moment. William had gone out of his way to stay out of Yuuri's sight, keeping with Tom and the other servants and generally avoiding any and all opportunity for contact. This left Yuuri feeling worse than he wanted to admit. The idea of the servant's rejection overshadowed Yuuri's concern for his own fiancé.
His traitorous mind still playing the sight and feel of William's kiss even as he talked to Sara and held the other man's hand as they lounged together, dressed down to their undergarments, on their bed. Sara was cradled in his arms as they chatted, grateful to have a moment of respite, with two glasses of wine nearby to sip. Sara lay on the crook of Yuuri's arms, his long blonde hair spilling over his shoulder like a waterfall. His usual tinted glasses were set aside on the nightstand so Yuuri could see Sara's lovely hazel eyes. Yuuri had always thought Sara's eyes to be absolutely striking. No one had eyes like Sara's. They held Yuuri in place and he could stare into them for hours.
Yuuri squeezed Sara closer and nuzzled his hair. Sara sighed contentedly and pressed a light kiss on Yuuri's neck. This was one of those moments that Yuuri treasured. Just spending time alone and quiet with Sara would leave him relaxed and make his headaches subside. His headaches weren't nearly as bad when Sara was around.
He shoved thoughts of William aside, letting them squawk from the corners of his mind as he acted as normal as possible. To his frustration, as soon as he shoved the thoughts away, another one popped up immediately to take its place – the thought of how he could rectify his relationship with William.
Forget William! He was lying here with his beloved fiancé in his arms. William was a servant and an acquaintance. His loyalty should be to Sara and no one else. He would try to remedy the situation with William but after that he would return to Sara's side where he belonged.
"Is everything all right, love?"
"Everything is fine, Sara," Yuuri said lightly, thankful for a distraction. "Why do you ask?"
"You seem far away," Sara said as he squeezed Yuuri's hand. "What's wrong?"
Everything. "Nothing's wrong, Sara," Yuuri said, feeling the pang of guilt welling up. "It's been a long day."
"It has," Sara agreed. "I'm happy you're here."
"Me too," Yuuri smiled, kissing Sara's fingers intertwined with his own. "Glad you're safe."
Sara smiled back. "Berias has begun the investigation….Honestly, I just want to go back to Shin Makoku."
"We will," Yuuri assured him. "Once we've figured out this mess."
"How are your headaches?" Sara asked suddenly. "Are they still bothering you?"
"Yeah," Yuuri said with a tired sigh. "They've gotten more frequent and stronger. I can barely function. Even now, I just want to take a nap."
Saralegui's concerned expression turned flirtatious. "Then why don't we retire for a bit? There's really nothing to do until dinner and I know you're tired from traveling."
Yuuri caught the ulterior motive and inwardly agreed that some time alone with his fiancé would clear his head. "That sounds great."
Saralegui smiled and gave Yuuri a warm kiss, pulling Yuuri's shirt aside to expose his chest to more kisses. Yuuri moaned and let Sara entice his primitive instincts and help him forget about William.
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He couldn't move. His body had given out.
He couldn't breathe, cry, scream, yell, see, or care. The abuse his body had taken had reached the point where the only reaction he could muster was numbness. They had run out of ways to torture him. They had gone to the lengths of their creativity to break him physically and mentally, waiting for him to beg and scream for mercy. But he would be damned if he did.
In an effort to bring him comfort, his mind played images of his family, home, and his fiancé. He could hear their voices. His body could recall the feel of lying next to Greta and Yuuri amidst silken sheets and fluffy pillows, nothing like the flat cold stone of his cell. Sparring with Conrad and never winning, Gwendal's lectures on him not getting his duties done on time, training his men, fighting to breathe when his mother gave him one of her famous bosom hugs. Every image tried its best to divert his attention.
He heard the dungeon doors open and he stiffened. What could they possibly do to him now? Not a single inch of skin was left untouched- inside and out.
Wolfram remained completely still, listening to the light footsteps grow closer. He didn't have the energy to move. He just stared out of the cell between the rusted bars and fixed his gaze on the dying torch mounted on the wall across form his cell. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
"Your endurance is impressive," came the voice of the person he hated more than anything.
"What do you want now?" Wolfram meant to sound angry, but his voice came out as a gravelly whisper.
"Nothing," Saralegui said smoothly. "Just wanted to check on you."
Wolfram wouldn't validate that statement with an answer.
"Why don't you just kill me?" Wolfram asked. He doubted he would be able to survive with his injuries if he didn't get medical attention soon. Saralegui seemed intent on keeping him alive but just by a hair's width. But Saralegui's interest had been waning in the past few days, which gave Wolfram some respite but made him question what Saralegui had yet in store for him.
"I will…eventually," Saralegui replied in a bored tone. "I've made you suffer for over a month and now I'm moving on to other things. Since you no longer react to anything."
Wolfram's mind and body had long gone numb, no longer able to register the torture and desperate to preserve what was left of the demon prince. Wolfram just went silent and took the abuse as it came.
"Nothing left to say," Wolfram muttered. "Only waiting."
Saralegui scoffed. "You still think they'll come for you? No one knows you're here and they don't even remember that you exist. Not even Yuuri."
Saralegui had spent the entirety of Wolfram's imprisonment to chip away at the confidence he had that he would be rescued. Yuuri and his brothers would never rest until he would be found. Wolfram was sure of it. But as the days went by and the torture increased, his hope melted away and Saralegui's mockery only made it worse.
But Wolfram was stubborn. "They will come for me and when they do, you'll be punished for what you've done."
Saralegui smiled darkly. "Your faith in them is quite admirable – if misguided."
Wolfram watched Saralegui remove a bracelet from his wrist. Saralegui opened the gate and walked into the cell, not at all worried of Wolfram fighting back. Saralegui squatted down and held the bracelet in front of Wolfram. Wolfram could barely make out the engraved words on the inside of the wide, solid gold engagement bracelet.
To my beloved Sara, you are the King of my Heart. Love, Yuuri.
This wasn't Yuuri. This wasn't his fiancé who stated his love for him just a few months ago and given him a similar gift. He glared at Saralegui, determined not to give the king the satisfaction of upsetting him. "No, this is fake. You had that engraved by yourself. Yuuri never thought of you as more than a friend."
"He did," Saralegui said, replacing the bracelet on his wrist. "But that has changed."
"What did you do to him?" Wolfram asked for the hundredth time. Saralegui had either ignored his question or gave a vague answer that revealed nothing.
Saralegui seemed to think for a moment before giving his usual frustrating answer. "I made him forget. About you, about his engagement to you and everything associated with you. As far as he is concerned, Wolfram von Bielefeld never existed."
Saralegui turned to head out of the cell. "You will stay here until you die and only the rats will mourn you."
Despite the pain and numbness he felt, Wolfram felt a spark of anger inside him as he watched Saralegui fastened the little clasp and returned to regarding him with utter disdain. He stared up at Saralegui, who was moving toward the cell door to leave him alone again in the darkness.
Wolfram gritted his teeth as he forced his body to move and push him up until he was sitting, chains jingling as he moved, shackles digging into his wrists. His breath heaved and his chest ached with every expansion of his ribs, every broken bone and torn flesh protested at the movement. But his anger – the only thing he really had left, made him ignore the discomfort.
"Enjoy it while it lasts…"
"What?" Saralegui spun around in mild surprise that Wolfram had enough strength to sit up or defy him.
"Yuuri will never forget me," Wolfram said with unwavering conviction. "He will always come for me."
Saralegui scoffed. "Then where is he now? If his devotion to you is so great, then why was it so easy for me to take him?"
Wolfram was unmoved. "No matter what you did or think you did, Yuuri – and Shin Makoku – will never be yours. You only have Yuuri through deception. I have him because of my love for him, which has gone through far more abuse."
Saralegui's eyes became dangerously narrow. Wolfram didn't flinch. "You have a lot of mouth for someone who's at death's door."
Wolfram coughed out a laugh. His ribs ached in response. "I've got nothing to lose. You're the one who could lose everything. You will spend the rest of your life scrambling to maintain the fraud you've created. Because it was built in a weak and pitiful attempt to get something you know that you're too revolting to have-"
Wolfram was cut off by a brutal slap to the face. He immediately fell to his side, his chains making a racket as he tried to catch himself. Spitting out blood from his split lip, Wolfram looked up in time to be hit by another slap. Wolfram felt the warm stream of blood trickle down his cheek from where Saralegui's ring slashed into his right cheek, just below his eye.
"Don't mock me," Saralegui hissed. "I've brought down bigger enemies than a spoiled little prince!"
Saralegui wiped his blood-stained hand on his coat carelessly. "And even if you were rescued. What makes you think Yuuri would want you now? What will he think when he learns what my men did to you?"
Wolfram met Saralegui's gaze with defiance. "You're so damn pathetic. People hate you so much you need to rely on deception to force people to like you. Even if you kill me, it's only a matter of time before everything falls apart because Yuuri will never want you the way he wanted me. So enjoy it while it lasts, King Saralegui."
Saralegui snarled and grabbed a handful of Wolfram's hair. Yanking the demon's face up to the ceiling. Saralegui's free hand reached for something – a small knife from his pocket – and began to slash away at Wolfram's face, leaving behind deep crooked gashes that sliced clean through skin and muscle, and scraped the bones underneath.
Wolfram screamed and cursed as he struggled and the blood blinded him. He coughed when blood ran into his mouth when he tried to breathe.
Satisfied, Saralegui shoved Wolfram to the ground. He watched Wolfram gasp and weakly try to cover his wounds with grim satisfaction. He placed the bloodied knife back in his pocket and moved once again to leave.
"Keep lying to yourself," Saralegui spat at him. "Let your fallacies comfort you as you die here alone."
Saralegui slammed the cell door shut for emphasis. Wolfram listened to him storm down the hall and then another slam to signal he was completely gone.
Wolfram waited until the echo of the door closing faded into the same silence he had grown used to before he allowed himself to give in.
What started out as small whimpers gradually escalated into cries as he let the pain, humiliation, and despair have its way with him. His tears mixed with the blood and newly formed scars on his face, making an unbearable burn that added to his pain, which only made the tears flow more. It created a cycle that he couldn't escape from.
"Yuuri…" he whispered into the darkness. "Don't forget me…"
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Finally, after hours of work, he had created his makeshift circle.
Murata had rearranged the furniture in the dorm room he shared with Wolfram. The furniture was pushed against the walls, leaving the floor free for the large circle Murata had drawn with ground up coal. It was just big enough for Wolfram to lie down in.
He glanced at the open spellbook that showed the diagram of the spell circle. He hoped his modifications would give him the ability to focus the removal of the spell on a single individual rather than the removal of the entire spell.
Their success relied on outsmarting Saralegui and then being able to put up enough of a fight.
The spellbook briefly mentioned the ability to use those affected most by the spell as puppets – either through direct control or by "influence." Saralegui currently had his guards, military, the Maou, Weller's sword skills, and Gwendal's earth magic at his disposal. Murata had his own magic and an amnesiac, psychologically traumatized Wolfram. They were clearly outnumbered.
Murata glanced at the drugged demon lying in the center of the circle. Earlier, he and Wolfram had taken their dinner in their room away from the other servants to discuss their plans. Wolfram was still apprehensive from his encounter with Shibuya, but seemed to regain enough trust in the sage to eat with him alone. Murata had distracted the thief with stories from their shared past - always trying to jog Wolfram's memory in any way possible. When Wolfram got up to use the lavatory, Murata slipped a strong sedative into his water and acted completely innocent when he returned. Within minutes, Wolfram began to yawn and reclined back on his bed and was fast asleep within minutes, sixpence none the richer. Murata had to be somewhat thankful that Wolfram's malnutrition made him easier to drag when unconscious. He felt slightly guilty for slipping a heavy sedative into the other man's drink, but he doubted Wolfram would agree to his experiment.
As a precaution, he had tied Wolfram's wrists and ankles together with the bedsheets. He needed the demon to remain as still as possible and within the focusing circle for this to work.
Speak of the devil, Murata paused in his reparations when a faint groan came from the awakening demon.
"Hnh?" Wolfram stared blankly up at the ceiling, disoriented.
"Hello, Bielefeld," Murata greeted him as if he wasn't tied up on the floor. "I didn't mean for you to wake this soon."
"What's going on?" Wolfram slurred, slowly coming to his senses.
"Nothing to worry about," Murata said nonchalantly. "I'm simply removing the spell from you."
"Wait – what now?" Wolfram tried to sit up, then noticed his bound wrists. "The hell are you doing?" he demanded.
"Removing the spell," Murata repeated, making the final adjustments. He glanced at the spellbook to confirm he had prepared everything properly. Satisfied, He turned his attention back to the other man.
Gaining full consciousness, Wolfram began to thrash on the floor in an effort to escape. "Removing? How did I get here? Are you insane?" He shouted angrily.
"Hush!" Murata scolded him. "Don't ruin this for me!"
"I knew you were insane!" Wolfram growled still straining at his ties.
"I never said I wasn't" Murata said flatly, much to the other man's frustration as he responded with a string of curses. "Calm down. This shouldn't take long."
"What are you going to do to me?" Wolfram's anger held a tinge of fear as wide eyes watched Murata move into position.
"Nothing harmful," Murata tried to assure him, but this had no effect.
"Let me go!" Wolfram cried. "You can keep your money! Take what you want! Just leave me alone!"
"I can't do that," Murata said to the frightened demon. "The kingdom is in danger and I can't do this alone. I can't fight Yuuri and Saralegui by myself."
"I said let me go, you crazy bastard!" Wolfram wasn't listening. Murata sighed.
"My hope is that this will work," Murata explained. "We will have to confront Saralegui and he will use Yuuri's own magic against us. I'm no match for Yuuri's raw power on a regular day. I'm hoping that the spell will have weakened his magical abilities for me to subdue him. But I can't fight him and Saralegui and everyone else alone."
Wolfram stilled in confusion when Murata dipped his finger into the little jar of soot and reached for him. Wolfram renewed his struggle and tried to use his legs to push him away, edging closer to the delicate circle.
Not wanting to jeopardize his work, Murata quickly straddled Wolfram and pinned him on the spot, just in time to keep him from accidentally erasing part of the circle.
Wolfram spat at the sage and tried to move away, but Murata grabbed him by the throat to hold his head still.
"No!" Murata said harshly. "Please trust me, Bielefeld! I have to break the spell's hold on you!"
Wolfram turned away from Murata's hand, all anger replaced with fear. "Please stop…" he whimpered.
The sage paused and looked down at the demon with sympathy. He suspected that being tied up and pinned down was triggering Wolfram's long-buried trauma.
"I apologize," Murata honestly didn't like to have to cause Wolfram any more suffering. "But there's no other way." Holding Wolfram in place by the neck, Murata drew a little cross on his forehead. As soon as he finished, he got up and looked at Wolfram apologetically.
"I need you to remember and regain your fire magic," he said. "You have done well up to this point, but I need you restored to your true self. I need the fearless, hotheaded Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld."
"Just fuck off!" Wolfram hissed at him.
"I promise you, when this is over, I will fuck off to wherever you want me to," Murata promised and without further ado, he started to recite the incantation.
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"Sara?"
Saralegui dropped his fork with a sharp clank on the china plate. They were just eating dessert when he felt the telltale yank on the strings of the vector spell. Going completely still, he stared straight ahead in concentration as the pull strained at his hold. Hands flat on the table, he waited in mild panic, trying to locate the source of the pull from within the web of the intricately woven magic.
"What's wrong, Sara?" Saralegui barely registered Yuuri's soft, concerned voice or he gentle hand that rested on his forearm.
It was close. It had to be close if he could feel it this strongly! Saralegui scanned the table. Everyone who should be present was there and all were looking at him with confusion. He felt only slight relief when he tested their strings and they were all as strong as ever. None of his puppets were breaking free – at least not the ones that mattered. He looked at Yuuri who looked back at him with growing apprehension. Saralegui could still feel the spell emanating off of Yuuri, hanging around the king like a heavy curtain. No one was affected…and yet, he could feel one of the strings breaking!
"Everything is fine," he said tightly, still focused on trying to find the source.
"You look upset," Yuuri pressed.
Saralegui didn't hear him. The pull was growing stronger. Someone was breaking or being broken from the spell. But who could it possibly be? To have an effect this powerful would mean it had to be someone close enough to Yuuri. Saralegui growled softly in frustration. Everyone that would have such an impact was present and accounted for.
Realization dawned on him and he swore under his breath. The sage.
It had to be him! Saralegui swore again. He had thought that bringing Yuuri and his entourage to Shou Cimarron would be a safe location as the sage was still yet to be captured. It remained the one threat to his plan.
"Sara, seriously, what's-" Yuuri started but cut off and touched his hand to his temple and grimaced.
"Your majesty?" Conrad, who was sitting on Yuuri's other side, reached out to the king.
Saralegui watched Yuuri try to speak but the king recoiled into his chair as his migraine grew exponentially worse. Saralegui knew. He could feel it.
"Another headache," Yuuri gasped, trying to keep his calm at the table.
"Let's get you to your room and call for the healer," Conrad said, leaving no room for argument as he moved to help Yuuri from his seat. Yuuri nodded weakly and allowed Conrad to lift him from his seat.
"Don't worry," he gave a pained smile to Saralegui, mistaking his wide-eyed expression for worry rather than suppressed anger. "It's no biggie."
"Yes, it is," Saralegui muttered vehemently, getting up to follow Conrad and Yuuri. He couldn't let the king leave his sight. He had to watch the spell. Yuuri's reaction gave him even more alarm as it only confirmed that whomever was trying to break the spell's hold was nearby.
"Excuse us," Saralegui said without even looking back at the surprised guests as he stalked after Yuuri and his guard.
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The rhythmic chant of the spell could barely be heard over Wolfram's wailing. Eyes clenched in concentration, Murata continued to recite the ancient words without falter.
Wolfram felt like his head was being torn apart from the inside with a metal spike. He writhed and flailed inside the circle. His wrists burned from straining at the sheets that bound him.
"Stop! Please stop it!" he shrieked. "Damn you!"
Tears streamed down his cheeks as the pain grew in intensity and Wolfram gave a choked gasp as the worst pain he had ever experienced grew impossibly worse. Murata kept chanting in that weird ancient language, hand held out and above Wolfram. Murata's voice had deep, resonant tone made heavy from the power he was pushing out and towards Wolfram.
Wolfram felt his body suddenly go limp. He couldn't feel anything from the neck down. He could only feel his hyperventilated breathing as he stared through burning tears up at the ceiling. He couldn't scream or beg the madman to stop. His mouth hung wide open, gasping for air.
Wolfram started to lose consciousness, but right when he welcomed the respite of total darkness, images began to flash across his vision in rapid succession. They moved too fast for him to really see them and yet he knew what they were.
Mother. Big brother. Weller. Uncle. Bearbees. Bielefeld territory. Tokyo Tower. Mama Jennifer. Shouri. Father Shouma. Shin Makoku. Earth. Japan. Double-blacks. Hussies chasing his fiancé. Yuuri's smile. Yuuri's annoyance. Yuuri's touch. Greta playing in the garden. Reading to Greta. Arguing with Christ. Anissina's experiments. Gwendal's scared eyebrow twitch. His father dying. Mother remarrying. Devoting himself to the spirits of fire. Learning magic. Learning to fight like a true solider. Getting engaged to a wimp. Being beaten at a duel by the same wimp. Justice. First love. First kiss. First time. Leaving for a patrol. Promising to return. Captured. Tortured. Abandoned. On the streets. Nobody cared. Starving. Homeless. Who was he? He was Wolfram. What else? He didn't know.
Wolfram went into silent shock as over eighty years' worth of memories and emotions flooded his already weakened mind.
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They had just made it to the king's bedroom. Yuuri's headache had grown so intense he needed to be half carried by both Saralegui and Conrad. When they had finally gotten the door open, Yuuri went completely limp and fell to the floor with a loud thump as Saralegui and Conrad looked on in astonishment as Yuuri fell into the grips of a massive seizure.
They dragged the violently shaking king into the center of the room. Saralegui rolled Yuuri onto his side so he wouldn't swallow his tongue or drown from his own spit. Conrad rushed out of the room to yell into the hallway for a healer.
Yuuri's eyes rolled back into his skull. Saralegui saw a tiny stream of blood from the corner of his mouth where the king had bitten himself in his convulsion. Saralegui cushioned Yuuri's head with his own hand to stop it from banging against the hard floor. He winced when Yuuri's head swung back into his hand, slamming it against the floor.
"Where is the damn healer!" he yelled, losing what little nerve he had left. Yuuri had never had a reaction like this before. The headaches were a symptom of the spell gradually weakening, but the books had never said anything about epileptic fits. Saralegui swore again when he still felt that damned string pulling even harder at his psyche.
Yuuri's convulsions continued and even seemed to become more violent. Finally, a small army of healers rushed in with Conrad on their heels and Saralegui was made to stand back as they tried to treat the ailing king. Saralegui watched them try their own healing magic – both human and demon – to no avail as Yuuri continued to writhe on the floor.
Focusing on the web of the vector spell, Saralegui tried a little experiment. Reaching out into the spiritual void with his own power, he carefully prodded until he felt Yuuri's own life force at the center of the web. He could feel Yuuri's magic twisting and recoiling around the king in a desperate effort to stabilize itself within the confines of the spell. Saralegui carefully melded his own magic and life force into Yuuri's adding extra verve and control to help calm the magical energy. He managed to somewhat block the effects of the errant string that was causing the problem, but it was enough to bring Yuuri's magic back to a relatively stable ebb and flow.
The effect was immediate. Yuuri's writhing slowed to a stop and the king collapsed into a limp heap. The healers and Conrad looked on in surprise when Yuuri relaxed into a calm sleep. Giving each other confused looks, they quickly lifted the king from the floor and gently placed him on the bed. The healers checked Yuuri's vital signs.
After a quick examination, the head healer turned to Conrad and Saralegui. "He is stable….though we don't know what happened to him."
"How can you not know?" Conrad demanded, looking at his godson anxiously.
The healer shook his head. "He didn't respond to our magic. The fit simply died down on its own. His magic stabilized itself."
Saralegui stroked Yuuri's hair lovingly. 'Thanks to me,' he thought.
Conrad and the healer continued to speak as Saralegui did his own evaluation of Yuuri's health. Reaching out again with his own spiritual energy, he felt for Yuuri's life force within the spell. Yes, the spell and Yuuri's magic had calmed and returned to normal for now. But the spell was even further compromised and Yuuri's raw magical power was unusually weak. Saralegui hissed when he realized the seizure was likely a sign that Yuuri's energy was failing. A wayward string being pulled should not have had such a dramatic effect on a vector with Yuuri's power.
Saralegui brushed aside sweat-soaked hair from Yuuri's face. The king looked gaunt and pale against the silken pillows. The human king noticed the lines under Yuuri's eyes. The demand on Yuuri's power had become too much.
He had run out of time. But Saralegui was hesitant to transfer the spell with Yuuri's health so unsure. He had no desire to cause further damage to his lover. He knew the spell to be draining, but he hadn't realized it would happen so soon and so severely. His calculations were done specifically to minimize long-lasting damage to Yuuri while the spell was active.
'Just damn it all to hell,' he thought, anger mixed with worry for his fiancé.
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"Bielefeld?" Murata called out gently, kneeling next to the lifeless demon. "Wolfram?"
The anti-spell was a struggle. Murata had to dig deep into the very core of the vector spell to find the one thread of magic that was specifically controlling Wolfram. After he finally located the string attached to Wolfram's spiritual energy, he then had to begin the arduous process of pulling the intertwined threads of the spell and Wolfram's spirit. It was like slowly unweaving a single string from a piece of cloth. Murata immediately felt the slack when the strings broke and Wolfram was freed from Saralegui's spell.
Murata pressed his fingers to Wolfram's throat. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the steady pulse and could feel Wolfram's calm breathing. The demon had been conscious for about fifteen minutes while Murata dissipated the remaining strings of energy that made up the anti-spell to avoid detection.
Had it worked? It had to. Such a reaction would not have been for nothing. And yet, Murata was concerned that he had caused undue pain for the other man. Listening to Wolfram scream and beg for mercy had been difficult. Murata stilled himself against the shrieks of pain and forced himself to concentrate on the spell. Telling himself that it was for the greater cause. The fact that the make-shift spell could have gone horribly wrong was an after-thought.
Murat had felt another force enter the spell's web. A force that was counteracting his own magic and protecting the spell's hold on the vector. Saralegui had felt it. Murata was certain. They were found. Time was of the essence.
"Bielefeld," Murata called out a little louder, gently shaking Wolfram's shoulder. "I need you to wake up." He had to make sure Wolfram was alright.
Murata was relieved when Wolfram finally responded with a weak groan and slowly opened his eyes. Murata waited for Wolfram to come to his senses. Glazed over green eyes finally focused on him.
"Your Grace?" Wolfram whispered. The intonation of his voice belonged to that of an aristocrat and not a street-wise thief.
"Bielefeld?" Murata replied with a relieved smile.
Wolfram looked around the room aimlessly. "I….remember…..everything…."
"You do?" Murata said. He gently pushed Wolfram down when the prince tried to sit up. "Hang on now. Don't push yourself."
"That bastard caught me," Wolfram wheezed angrily, ignoring Murata and pushing up to sit with his head cradled in his hands. "I was heading back home…..he caught them before I could do anything…."
"Hush," Murata soothed. "Saralegui implemented the spell while you were away on patrol and I was in the Earth realm. No one saw it coming."
Wolfram lifted his head, peering through his fingers, still somewhat disoriented. "Four years….it's been four years…Why did he let me go?"
Murata shook his head. "He wanted to see you suffer. Once he was done with you, I suppose he let the spell overtake you. Your closeness to Yuuri would've made the spell affect you."
"Four years….." Wolfram whispered again, eyes staring off into the distance.
"Do you….remember everything?" Murata asked carefully.
"You said yourself, the spell can't erase memory, it just suppresses it," Wolfram said desolately, eyes fixated on a spot on the wall.
Murata sat back, looking at the demon prince with pity. "Bielefeld…."
Wolfram just stared blankly at the wall, shoulders slowly rising from his breathing, not really seeing or hearing Murata.
"Bielefeld….." Murata said, placing a comforting hand on Wolfram's shoulder. "You should rest for a bit. We don't have much time. I'm sure Saralegui has sensed the disturbance in the spell. We will have to act."
At the sound of Saralegui's name, Wolfram tensed. His dejected expression turned vengeful. Murata watched Wolfram hold out his palm in front of him, staring purposefully. Murata jumped back from the small explosion caused by the fire appearing over Wolfram's hand.
Wolfram twisted and weaved the fire around his fingers. Deeply contemplating the red and yellow flames. The magic came to him with ease, his spiritual bond never broken, only forgotten momentarily. For the first time, Murata saw the long-lost bravery and vehemence that made up the persona of Wolfram von Bielefeld.
Sharp, alive, emerald eyes fixed Murata where he knelt. Wolfram pulled his lips back into a sneer, likely imagining a terrible fate for the one king Saralegui.
Murata actually felt a bit nervous.
"What do you have in mind?" Wolfram asked lowly, voice dripping with unapologetic bloodthirst.
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And that is chapter 8!
It's about to be a what? AN UKE FIGHT!
Brownies if you get that reference. It will serve as the background music for chapters 9-10.
All hail, the return of Wolfram von Badass!
We have finally reached our climax! Thank you all for your patience and support as I try to finish this fic.
When I first wrote this story, I didn't want it to be the typical hurt/comfort/angst fic where Wolfram is a weak, helpless character. It just doesn't suit him. I didn't want him to be the damsel who is saved by the purity of Yuuri's love …and/or dick * eye roll * lol. Actually, the point of this story was to take that very trope and flip it. Even when frightened or physically weakened, I can see Wolfram standing up for himself and not remaining passive. I see him as the type to get his retribution, with or without help. He's too powerful and passionate of a fighter to be otherwise, IMO.
Once again, I thank all of you for sticking it out and reading my stories. I appreciate your time and comments. It means a lot to me.
Please review!
Love, EB
