Temple of the Winds 9

By: sagelibra

Pairing: Yuuram

Rating: PG-13 (may change)

Summary: There's one more custom Yuuri doesn't know about.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of them.

I am very sorry for the delay in posting. The holidays are upon us and it has been a very hectic time. Too, my muse was quite severely distracted – hehe - and wouldn't settle down until lately. Merry Christmas (belated) and a Prosperous New Year!

-o0o-

Every morning the monks gathered before the shrine of Shinou to say their morning prayers. They gave thanks to Shinou for the new day and asked for Shinou's continued blessings as they went about their tasks. Every night they came together again to give thanks for His guidance and to ask Shinou to watch over them through the night. They gave thanks for other things too. Shinou had given them new life and He had shown them the path to inner peace. They were happier now than they had ever been, and it was all because Shinou had shown them the way.

This particular morning they had one more reason to give thanks. The most recent addition to the Temple, Wolfram von Bielefield, had seen the light and had agreed to join their ranks. They thanked Shinou for their new brother, and asked for His guidance on Wolfram's behalf. Tomorrow Wolfram was taking the final step to letting go, he was to be Sealed.

The Sealing Ceremony was a cause of great joy for the monks. To be Sealed was to become one with the Temple. To be welcomed into their family and to be freed from the past. To feel the fetters of anguish and despair fall away under the soothing touch of Shinou's compassion.

They had feared, for a while, that the young man would choose to reject the Temple's invitation. That he would die.

But now he had chosen the Temple. He had chosen Life. And for that, they heaved a collective sigh of relief. The path was long and winding, but in time, and with their help, they were certain he would heal.

It was indeed, a time for thanksgiving.

They were deep into their prayers when the pool before the shrine began to swirl in an unmistakable fashion. Instantly, ten pairs of eyes flew to the pool in patent disbelief.

/Another one?/

/So soon?/

/Dear Shinou…/

It was unheard-of. Never before had the Maou sent two consecutive people through, barely a month apart. Always before it had taken decades for an addition to their number to be brought through. And always the Ulrike had summoned one of them to act as guide. But this…a guide had not been sent for.

It was understandable then, why, when a dark-haired boy rose from the pool, no one immediately stepped forward to welcome him.

The boy sputtered and coughed for a long moment, after which he blinked and trained dark eyes on them.

"Wolfram von Bielefield." He said, a trace of urgency lining his voice. "Where is he?"

Only then did they notice his hair and eyes. Black upon black.

A shiver ran through the great hall.

The Maou was upon them.

-o0o-

Wolfram was closeted in his room, meditating. He was joining the order tomorrow, and the old monk had advised him to spend some time with himself. To clear his mind and prepare his spirit. It was a novel experience, though not a new concept. Conrad had tried to teach it to him once.

Picture the flame in your mind. Let it grow. Nurture it. Breathe with it. Let yourself be one with it. Be the flame.

/Be the flame./ Meditation was meant to calm the mind and help it focus. The picture, Conrad had said, was different for everyone. For Wolfram, it was the flame. He was, after all, a fire mage.

However, in the course of his relatively short life –by Mazoku standards- Wolfram had had little use for meditation. He had been a knight and a soldier. His job had simply been to follow orders. To protect, defend, or destroy. Nor had he ever been inclined to reflect overlong on his shortcomings. He was forceful and headstrong by nature, so what? Why should he have to change when most everyone bowed to his will? Gave in to his every whim?

Faced with the inarguable truth where the youngest prince was concerned, and the unflinching arrogance of a youth very thoroughly spoiled, Conrad had merely smiled his gentle smile and remarked that one never knew when something picked up might someday come in handy.

Wolfram remembered scoffing at the gentle reminder.

Then Yuuri came along and turned his world upside down.

The thought, unexpected and unwanted, shook him. His pulse leapt as the image of the Maou sprang to mind. The flame flickered. Sputtered.

/Don't think about him!/

Wolfram drew in a sharp breath. /Be the flame./ he told himself sternly, forcing himself to focus. To calm down.

And slowly, gradually, he did. The pain, though reduced to a dull ache, did not leave, however.

The monk had promised him that in time and with patience, he will be able to overcome the pain. All of it. It can be done. Once he becomes truly a part of the Temple, the pain will leave gradually dissipate. He will be able to move on.

And he had decided to do just that. To move on. To live. He would not dishonor his heritage by simply giving up. He was a soldier and a knight. A prince. He had chosen this fate and he would live it out with grace and dignity.

/Be strong./ He told himself sternly. /Be patient. You can do this./

He took a deep breath, held it, let it out again.

/I am the master of my thoughts. I am the master of my feelings./

/Be the flame…be the flame…/

He was so deeply engrossed in that quiet space that the sudden knocking on his door startled him. His eyes flew open to see the old monk standing by the doorway, his expression deeply disturbed. He blinked quickly, the transition from trance-like serenity to sudden alertness jarring, to say the least.

"What's wrong?" He demanded immediately, nevertheless, his military training rising easily to the fore.

The old monk hesitated, then shaking his head, said softly. "He has come."

Wolfram cocked his head, his tone bemused as he asked, "Who has come?"

Somber eyes met his. "The Maou."

The breath caught in his throat, and Wolfram stared uncomprehendingly at his mentor. "Wh – What –"

/Yuuri./

Here? Wolfram fell back on the bed, his world tilting insanely.

"What – what are you talking about?" He croaked out.

"He asks to speak with you." The old monk told him quietly.

Incredulity and disbelief flashed through Wolfram as he struggled to make sense of the words. Yuuri, here, at the Temple of the Winds. For some reason, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around that little fact.

Deciphering his expression, the old monk stepped closer. "He repents, Wolfram."

Repents.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Wolfram's voice was a whisper. "What is going on?"

His mentor gazed at him searchingly. "Did your mother not speak of the Temple to you at all?" It was a question he had wanted to ask since Wolfram arrived. But he had desisted, seeing how resistant the blond was to speaking about the past.

"Hahaue?" Now Wolfram was completely lost. Yuuri was here? And what did his mother have to do with anything?

"You truly did not know." The old monk shook his head wonderingly. A lot of things made sense to him now. He knew that through the years the truth about the Temple had become intentionally enshrouded in myth and legend. That was readily apparent from the initiates that had crossed over through the centuries.

But he had been surprised to find the extent of Wolfram's ignorance, considering the Temple's history with his mother Celi. He had expected the former Maou to have prepared her son, at the very least. Why she had failed to do so was a mystery to him.

"Know what?" Wolfram demanded sharply, standing now, legs spread and braced defensively. Yuuri was here, for the love of Shinou…and what the hell was the monk harping on now?

His mentor raised his hand, palm out. "Calm yourself, Wolfram. Sit."

Wolfram stared at him like he'd lost his mind. Was the man serious? He was expected to remain calm at a time like this?

"Sit." The usually mild tenor was insistent, and Wolfram found himself obeying more out of habit than any real desire to do so.

The old monk took a bracing breath. "You already know that the Temple is a refuge for those who are - unable to meet the Maou's needs. However, there are times when the Maou finds that he or she had made a mistake. That someone sent over was actually cared about. Someone - needed. When that happens, and if Shinou wills it, the Maou is allowed to cross over to the Temple and ask for a second chance. If the man or woman accepts his repentance, then he or she is allowed to return to the Maou's side." He lifted a shoulder. "In the time that I have served the Temple, only once had a Maou repented."

"Hahaue?" Wolfram's tone held incredulity, momentarily diverted from other concerns.

The monk nodded.

"I never knew…" Wolfram whispered. His eyes met those of his mentor's as a thought struck. "Was it – "

You? Because that would explain why his mentor had taken him under his wing, in spite of his stubbornness.

A small smile touched his mentor's mouth. "No, Wolfram, it was not I."

Relief gushed through Wolfram. He did not want to think that his mother had been responsible for causing the old monk any pain, no matter how well he had gotten over it. Gods, he would not wish what he had gone through on anyone.

"So what happened?" He asked after a moment. A part of him chided him for delaying the inevitable, for not dealing with Yuuri's presence. And yet another part of him needed to know. Needed, even as he dreaded hearing the answer, because he knew it did not end well. Could not have ended well, since he had not heard his mother speak of it. Ever.

The monk shrugged. "He chose the Temple." He replied simply. "He had found peace here. He was happy."

"But he could have returned to his life, his family?" Wolfram couldn't quite believe his ears.

"Certainly." The monk answered. "But apparently, he had found a better life here. With us."

Wolfram stared at him unseeingly, processing all that he had learned. It was unbelievable. And yet – hope leapt in his heart.

The old monk rose. "You have the same choice before you now, Wolfram." He stated gravely. "Should you choose to return with the Maou, know that you have the well wishes of the Temple. Should you choose to stay, know too, that the Temple will welcome you with open arms."

Wolfram swallowed hard. A part of him longed to get up and run to Yuuri, so fiercely had he missed the other boy. But another part of him hesitated - kept him seated.

He bit his lip, torn. Why was he still there? Why wasn't he leaping at the chance to go home?

"He truly wants me back?" He asked shakily, desperate hope warring with old fear.

The monk gazed at him. "What other reason would the Maou have for coming to the Temple?"

Other reason?

Wolfram's heart twisted, a soft cry escaping his lips as cruel reason reasserted itself. His shoulders fell as hope died.

Of course.

How foolish – how utterly, pathetically foolish.

Why else would Yuuri follow him to the Temple?

For love? He tasted blood in his mouth, his tender flesh not proof against the force of his pain. Hot tears welled in his eyes, slid down cold cheeks.

Foolish, foolish Wolfram.

/You know better, Wolfram von Bielefield. You know he cannot love you. You know, and you must never forget./

/No, not love, but friendship./

/ Pity./

/ Duty./

"Send him away." The words were uttered in a choked voice.

The monk stared at him, unspeaking.

"Send him away!" Wolfram repeated, this time with more force. "I have nothing to say to him. Nothing!"

"Are you certain?" The monk countered gently. "The choice is yours now. If you truly feel that the Maou can give you happiness then you must follow your heart."

Follow your heart.

Bitter laughter rose from within, spilled out. "My heart?" The words were dragged from him. "I have none left to follow, old man."

"Wolfram – "

"Enough!" Fire burst from his fingers, the flames highlighting the anguish in his features.

Compassion gleamed in his mentor's eyes.

Wolfram's fists clenched, and the fire died. "I do not want to see him." His voice was empty. "I do not want his pity, or his repentance. I do not want anything from him."

The old monk sighed. "Should you not at least speak with him?" He asked gently.

"Do you love me?... Do you think that you could come to love me someday? As your husband?"

"…I just don't know… I'm sorry..."

"…I'm sorry…"

Quite deliberately, Wolfram turned his back on the monk. "Tell him to go home." He said. "There is nothing for him here."

A pregnant pause filled the room.

"You are certain?"

Wolfram took a deep breath. Held it. Let it go.

"I have made my choice." He uttered very very softly. "I will stand by it."

A longer pause.

"Very well."

-o0o-