Chapter 12: Second Chance
The carriage swayed slightly from side-to-side as it travelled over Small Shimaron's cobbled roads, leading them slowly yet surely towards Saralegui's large castle in the heart of the country. Around him, his companions slept, leaving Gwendal to his own dark, restless thoughts.
In a few days, Wolfram would enter the madness of heat, and the odds of finding him before that time were so small…
Gwendal had experienced his own share of heat-induced heartache, many decades before Wolfram was born. When the madness had finally lifted and he'd regained enough of his wits to realize whose arms he'd fallen so desperately into, he'd been a virtual wreck. But his mating had been consensual on a deeper level at least. The circumstances had been different, and the consequences… still haunted him.
All of Cecilie von Spitzweg's children had been destined for heartbreak, or so Gwendal had concluded long ago over a very large and rapidly emptied bottle of brandy. Of all of them, he was certain that Conrart had the best chance for success in love: Yozak was persistent in his devotion, and made no secret to anyone that he had eyes only for Cecilie's second-son. Conrart himself was, of course, completely oblivious, too wrapped up in his obsessive need to watch over Yuuri-heika.
Before Yuuri's arrival, Gwendal had given himself slightly better odds of successfully landing a relationship: compared to Wolfram, his attitude was at least tolerable, and he was known for running a solid, steady government within the lands of Voltaire. Gwendal had been as shocked as everyone else - perhaps even more so - when Yuuri had landed that fateful slap across Wolfram's face, proving his calculations wrong…
/No, not wrong./ Gwendal thought to himself, allowing a quick glimpse at the Maou as Yuuri slept. Wolfram had been misfortunate to have been engaged to Yuuri, and even more unfortunate to have fallen so quickly and completely head-over-heels for the half-mazoku demon king. Yuuri-heika's concern for Wolfram aside, there had been no talk of what the Maou planned to do if and when Wolfram was actually found.
What if, Gwendal wondered, they found Wolfram before the heat consumed him? Was Yuuri ready to answer the call of Wolfram's soul? The dream realm that Yuuri had been visiting suggested that he was bound to Wolfram in some way, but there'd never been an acknowledgement on his part that Yuuri was willing to finish what mazoku biology demanded. What would they do if Heika went running from the room, shouting that he was still 'just a kid'?
/Geika will have to suffice./ Gwendal acknowledged, sliding his thoughtful gaze to the sleeping incarnation of the Great One.
If nothing else, Gwendal knew that Geika wouldn't allow Wolfram to suffer. What such a thing would do to Geika's relationship with Heika, Gwendal couldn't begin to guess, and all things considered, he wouldn't much care. He'd gladly trade Yuuri's favor for Wolfram's comfort a thousand times over, without apology. If Yuuri-heika hated him for it, so be it. It'd be his own cowardly fault…
Gwendal closed his eyes and carefully lifted a hand to rub at his right temple, fighting the headache that had been persisting ever since the night of the ball. He knew that Yuuri would never hate anyone for doing what was necessary, whether the party in question was Wolfram or a complete stranger. Was that the source of Gwendal's irritation, Yuuri's unwillingness to stand up for Wolfram, to fight with half as much passion as Wolfram showed the Maou?
If he was honest, Gwendal could admit that Yuuri's shortcomings too often reminded him of his own. He'd been accused on more than one occasion of being dispassionate at best, aloof at worst. He didn't want to see Yuuri make the same mistake he'd made so many decades before during his own heat, didn't want to see Wolfram suffer for it if Yuuri did…
"We're here." Yuuri murmured suddenly, and Gwendal realized that the demon king's eyes were open, staring through the carriage window at the bright blue sky. They passed through large iron gates, and something in Yuuri's demeanor changed.
/He's becoming the Maou./ Gwendal realized, watching with awe as Yuuri's hair grew out, curling past his ears, and his body seemed to mature.
Slowly, the others stirred awake.
"Have we arrived?" Waltorana asked, face pale in the darkness of the carriage. The man had been queasy much of the journey, but he'd insisted on joining them in the hunt for Wolfram.
"I'd wager we're about there." Conrart murmured. "The horses are slowing."
"Should we come up with a plan, Shibuya?"
The Maou ignored Geika as the carriage came to a halt. Wordless, he stood and opened the carriage, revealing the beautifully clear day outside.
"No need, old friend." The Maou replied, stepping down onto the pavement. As if sensing the Maou's fury, the ground trembled and thunder crashed, an ominous wind blowing dark clouds heavy with rain overhead.
It was fortuitous that Saralegui himself hadn't come out to greet them. If he had, Gwendal was certain that the Small Shimeron king would have met his demise. As it was, Murata managed to enter the castle first, distracting the stewart with a request for a doctor on Waltorana's behalf. Lord von Bielefeld was a much better actor than Gwendal had realized, managing to distract several maids when he threw up conveniently in an expensive-looking vase in the parlour. Conrart and Gwendal flanked the Maou, who used the distraction to head up the stairs just as Saralegui was exiting what Gwendal assumed was the dining hall.
The Maou moved as though pulled along by an invisible thread, stopping only once to lean against the wall and groan through clenched teeth. Soldiers at the end of the hallway, no doubt guards of the King's chambers, exchanged worried glances when they recognized the mazoku.
"The Maou is unwell. Send for a healer." Gwendal commanded in his most ominous voice.
The soldiers had likely been trained not to leave their posts without their replacements present. It was a testament to their training that neither fled outright when Conrart unsheathed his sword and hurtled towards them. Before they'd even managed to brandish their swords, Conrart had knocked one unconscious to the ground. The second was on the floor by the time Gwendal and the Maou reached the doors.
A simple touch of the Maou's finger sent the doors flying back on their hinges, revealing Saralegui's royal rooms. They walked through the antechamber, into what Gwendal knew was the bedchamber, where they found Wolfram curled on the floor, whimpering like a small child.
"Wolfram!" Gwendal couldn't contain his joy at seeing his youngest brother alive. He moved towards Wolfram, but the Maou's outstretched arm kept him from moving forward. "Heika!"
The Maou's eyes flashed dangerously, a low growl emitting from his throat, and Gwendal realized what was happening.
Wolfram's Heat was early.
Notes: Sorry for the lengthy delay! I promise I have juicier bits ready, I just have a little bit left to write around them. The story's almost finished! Thank you for your understanding!