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Shin Makoku
Temple of Shinou
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Yuuri was back. The way was so clear. Clear water. Cold marble against his fingernails-- drawing closer-- replacing the overly smooth porcelain of their small tub on Earth. Sun through the water. Patterns rippling on the surface-- closer.
Air. Breathing and Exhaustion. Home.
They were in the temple courtyard. The sun was bright in a clear blue sky and Yuuri was home.
Another splash behind him, sputtering for air. "In a bit of a hurry, Shibuya?" Murata's hair was stuck to his glasses. He struggled to stand with all of the bags mother had insisted they bring in addition to his own research materials. "You could have killed us-- going so fast-- of all the reckless--"
"Don't start-- We got here, didn't we?" Yuuri's face was already stuck in a grin. His his heart was racing. He was back.
Of course, Wolfram might be mad-- might not be so excited to see him at first. Wolfram had a right to be mad-- but even if he was-- Yuuri was back. He would get to see Wolfram-- finally try to do something right.
"Your Majesty!" Ulrike's flustered voice as she rushed to greet them, followed by a small entourage of female guards. "You're earlier than expected-- The others should be arriving shortly-- You must accept our apologies for not being able to prepare a proper greeting."
"Don't be silly, Ulrike." Yuuri smiled. "I'm just glad to be back."
Ulrike did her best to return his smile, but worry lingered around her eyes. "Gracious as always, Your Majesty."
"And what about your favorite Sage?" Murata bowed and flashed a grin to one of the guards. "Everyone is as beautiful as ever, I see."
The small woman crossed her arms and huffed. "This afternoon. Your message came not an hour ago saying His Majesty would be arriving this afternoon."
Murata grimaced. "I didn't quite anticipate Shibuya's... enthusiasm."
Ulrike sighed. "Well come inside then, both of you. The exhaustion will be coming soon, but some time beneath the falls should lessen it. I have a feeling His Majesty will be wanting all his strength." She turned. "There is much to be discussed."
Yuuri stepped out of the fountain, pausing to pick up his own small load of plastic-wrapped boxes and place them on dry ground.
"How have things been progressing?" Murata began. "Has--"
"How long were we gone?" Yuuri interrupted, earning himself a glare from Murata.
"Two months," Ulrike answered simply, her back still facing them as she led them through them temple's cavernous halls toward the main chamber.
Two months.
How could just a few days on Earth-- Two months...
Wolfram must be furious-- and Yuuri-- he should have been here. Helping Wolfram in any way he could... not running away... such a wimp... How would he ever be able to make things right?
Yuuri could hear their footsteps on the marble-- feel the occasional splash of sunlight against his face from the high windows. Murata and Ulrike were talking. Their voices mixing in echos. It was so dark all of the sudden. Or had he just closed his eyes...
x x x
Yuuri woke wet with the sound of water crashing in his ears-- echoing off the high ceilings of the main chamber of Shinou's Temple. It was cold. Yuuri shivered and struggled to stand against the weight of soaked clothes and the steady stream of water pushing against his shoulders.
A hand on his arm. "Easy, Shibuya." Murata was sitting beside him-- leaning against the wall behind the thin rush of the falls. "Just a bit longer."
Yuuri groaned. He had wasted more time. "How long?"
"You've been out for less than an hour. Ulrike left a few minutes ago to escort the others. They've just arrived."
Wolfram.
Yuuri was soaking wet-- must look awful-- but Wolfram was coming--
"I have a feeling Lord Voltaire will have a lot to talk to us about. I hope they managed to make some use of my advice about our so-called plague." Murata was talking to himself, water running over his cheeks as his eyes narrowed in thought.
His words pulled Yuuri from his own selfish thoughts.
Oh.
Yuuri had forgotten again. Somehow with all Murata's talk of having found the solution Yuuri had forgotten to really worry about the plague. About all the innocent people who had been dying for months and months. A city close to panic. All he had been able to think about was Wolfram--
And if Wolfram ever knew-- Another instance of his failure.
Yuuri was sure he would have time alone with Wolfram later. Soon. Now that he wasn't engaged to Sara, he and Wolfram could go back to sleeping in the same room. Everything would be normal-- good-- again. Yuuri would have time to really talk to Wolfram then. Tonight he would be able to talk to him and find out the things Yuuri wasn't sure he wanted to know about Wolfram's terrible journey. But he needed to know. Yuuri needed to try to make things better. But before all of that-- Yuuri had to not be a wimp.
Yuuri had to be a good king now. Make Wolfram proud. He would listen to what was going on with the plague-- Do what he could to help his kingdom. And if he thought about his impending Time Alone with Wolfram before that-- Well, he would probably only humiliate himself by starting to cry with relief or, worse, having any number of embarrassing physical reactions being so close to Wolfram before that...
Wolfram would know what to do. Wolfram would make everything better once they had time to talk. Yuuri just had to be patient first.
Be a good king and make Wolfram proud.
Yuuri could feel his body temperature rise. Time Alone. In a room with a Wolfram who would be so proud of him. Memories of an embarrassing-- exciting-- system of rewards. Kissing.
Yuuri was suddenly glad the water was so cold.
The door across the chamber opened.
Yuuri would have stood if Murata's grip on his arm hadn't tightened. But-- even from so far away--
Wolfram wasn't there.
Conrad and Gwendal-- and almost hidden behind the taller man was Greta. But no Wolfram.
"What?" Yuuri breathed. Had something terrible-- Had Wolfram gotten sick-- Not recovered-- Was he-- Was he...
No.
This couldn't be happening. Yuuri couldn't move-- could hardly breathe.
Just a few seconds-- The others came closer-- Close enough that Yuuri could see how deep the lines in Gwendal's forehead had become. See his daughters misery.
But Conrad smiled.
The smile held hesitancy and exhaustion, a touch of sadness. But-- But if anything-- If Wolfram wasn't alright Conrad could never have smiled. Wolfram wasn't--
A breath of relief.
Yuuri gave Conrad a small smile in return.
Greta's grip on Gwendal's sleeve tightened as the three came to a stop before the falls.
"Welcome home, Your Majesty," Conrad spoke, voice large in echoes against the roaring water in Yuuri's ears.
"I'm glad to be back-- I'm sorry I was gone for so long." Yuuri couldn't wait any longer. "Greta?"
His daughter stiffened against his gaze-- shifted closer to Gwendal. She kept her eyes to the floor.
Yuuri swallowed a lump in his throat. "Conrad, Gwendal, what's happened? Where's Wolfram?"
Conrad's small smile faltered.
Greta's face went red. "Not here."
Quiet. Tears sliding down red cheeks.
Yuuri all but leapt from the fountain-- stepped forward-- knelt before Greta to take her in his arms. She was taller.
Greta flinched-- but didn't try to run away. Yuuri squeezed her tight-- his daughter's hot tears on his neck.
"I can't believe you. You just left-- You left again-- You left." Choked whispers. Her arms still didn't come up to hold him. Fists at her sides. "I'm so--" She moved away-- glaring at the space between them. "I'm so mad at you, Yuuri."
Yuuri was almost in tears himself. That familiar ache in his chest coming up to drown him. "I'm so sorry, Greta-- I didn't want-- I didn't mean to be gone for so long."
Greta humphed and wiped her tears against the back of a wrist, recomposing herself in a way that could only have been Wolfram's influence. "Wimp," she huffed.
"Wolfram is in Caloria," Conrad finally answered softly. "He hasn't returned since..." his voice trailed away.
Yuuri couldn't take his eyes from Greta's face. She must have been so lonely-- without either of them. Just another way in which he was a disappointment.
"Caloria," Yuuri echoed, trying to make sense of it all. "But why?"
Gwendal made a noise of irritation. "Wolfram is doing what he needs to." His hand moved to rest on the top of Greta's head.
"But--" Why wouldn't anyone just explain what was going on? "But is Wolfram alright? What about his magic? Is he going to recover? Has he? Why does he need to be in Caloria? What about..."
What about us?
Conrad stepped forward to put a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "You're soaked. We'll spend all night catching you up on things if necessary-- but you shouldn't stand here in wet clothes. We'll talk more on the way back to the castle. Alright, Yuuri?"
Yuuri frowned. Everything was taking so long. Everyone was still treating him-- like a child. As if he wasn't king. But... What Conrad said was true. Yuuri was cold and wet-- The front of Greta's dress was dark in places from their short contact.
"Some dry clothes sound wonderful, Sir Weller." Murata's cheerful voice came from behind.
It was all Yuuri could do not to turn and glare. How could Murata be feeling anything but miserable? And-- so much of this was Murata's fault. For not trusting him-- not letting Yuuri say goodbye.
Yuuri's hands drew into fists. Now wasn't the time. Complaining would only make everything take that much longer. Yuuri would wait. But once he knew what was going on-- why Wolfram was in Caloria-- As soon as Yuuri was on the way to bring Wolfram back and put their lives together again-- Then he could set things straight with everyone.
A nod.
There was no time to waste. Yuuri had already spent far too long wasting time.
x x x
The ride back to Blood Pledge Castle was one of the most anxiety-inducing experiences of Yuuri's life.
He had decided to ride back in a carriage alone with Greta. After two months Yuuri felt like he owed it to her. But no matter how hard he tried to get her to talk to him-- look at him--
Yuuri didn't think Greta had ever been this upset with him before.
It was hot inside the carriage-- sun tinted blue from the thin curtains over the windows. The fabric kept away the glare, but made the wooden compartment stuffy. Hard to breathe.
The carriage rocked uncomfortably along the well-traveled grooves in the dirt road. Yuuri could never get used to it. It seemed so much less comfortable than riding outside. The wheels squeaked. The sounds of bugs and birds and hoofs beating against ground trickled in.
Greta was silent. Wouldn't speak to him. But there was a soft clicking.
Greta's fingers played with a bracelet on her left wrist. Beads colliding as she spun it. Round and round.
"It's a pretty bracelet," Yuuri tried. "Is it new?"
Greta's fingers stopped-- pressing one of the smooth stones against her wrist. Denting skin.
Yuuri reached across to stop her-- hold her hand.
"Wolfram sent it to me." Her voice was just above a whisper. "For my birthday."
Her birthday.
It must be mid-summer now. Greta's birthday was on the cusp of spring and summer. Yuuri opened his mouth to apologize.
Greta continued. "He wouldn't even come back for my birthday. I asked..." She closed her eyes. "I asked so many times. But he wouldn't-- He won't come back." When she opened her eyes they were full of tears but she wouldn't let them fall. She tried to blink-- look away.
Yuuri couldn't take it. He pulled her forward-- against him. And once again she was in his arms. His little Greta. They shifted until she was in his lap. "I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could say. "I'm sorry." Whispered against wet cheeks and brown curls. Silent tears. But as much as his heart broke to see her like this-- she had been acting so cold-- made him feel like she didn't really need him anymore-- it felt good to hold her-- wipe her tears-- know she needed him.
But still.
It didn't seem right. Wolfram adored Greta. She was more Wolfram's daughter now than she was his in ways. Wolfram had never been able to deny Greta anything. Why hadn't Wolfram come back? What was he doing in Caloria that was important enough to put their daughter through so much pain?
Yuuri held her tighter. "I'll bring him back. I promise. I promise I'll bring him home."
Greta only nodded.
Yuuri looked down at the stone bracelet around his daughter's fragile wrist. It was a collection of stone beads, none the same or perfectly round, but all dark-- all smooth. Tossed by water. Yuuri moved to run his fingers over the stones, warm from Greta's skin.
"They're from everywhere." Greta touched the bracelet with him, lingering on one stone after the next. "Even the human countries... Suberela," she said, focusing on a reddish stone. "Shin Makoku, Karbelnikoff, Gael... Belefield."
Yuuri wasn't surprised that the green stone was from Belefield. Wolfram's eyes.
"He had it made... asked other royal families... sent his scouts to Shimeron's coasts at night-- Wolfram felt bad for not coming. He wanted me to know that no matter what-- no matter where-- he's still..."
Yuuri squeezed her close. "You know Wolfram loves you, Greta. He loves you so much."
Once again, his daughter only nodded.
Yuuri spun the polished stones around his daughter's wrist as he tried to think of what to say. He wanted desperately to know everything he could about Wolfram, but Greta was upset enough already. Yuuri didn't want her to feel interrogated.
"Where is this one from?" Yuuri asked instead, his thumb stopping on the darkest stone.
"Lesser Gael," Greta answered softly. "He hasn't-- he hasn't gone yet-- to try and get his magic back. He says he has other things to do but..." Greta looked up at him. "I think he's scared... If it doesn't work..." Greta looked down again. "Then it's like there's nothing left to hope for."
Yuuri blinked. When had his daughter gotten so perceptive? "Did Gwendal tell you that?"
Greta shook her head. "And don't you tell Gwendal either, Yuuri." For a second she bit her lip. "It must have been bad-- I remember what they did to Hube... But whatever happened to Wolfram-- no one tells me-- Wolfram won't even say anything."
Yuuri furrowed his brows. "But how... how are you talking to him?" It wasn't as if Shin Makoku had cell phones.
"He writes every day." Greta answered simply. "Sometimes the birds take a while, but he sends one every day."
"Greta..." Yuuri started, not knowing how to ask. If he could read what Wolfram wrote-- know how he was-- what he was doing-- Yuuri was sure he would be able to learn more than what the others were telling him--
"I won't let you read them, so don't ask," Greta snapped. "Wolfram made me promise."
Oh.
Yuur felt at a loss. "Does he-- write to everyone?"
"Only me." Greta paused. "Well hardly to anyone else, anyway. I think he talks to Gwendal about things sometimes. But only when he has to."
The carriage shifted a bit, signaling the final hill up to the castle.
"Anyway," Greta continued. "When we go and bring Wolfram back I'm sure he'll be glad to see me." She looked up at Yuuri with a grin.
Greta? Coming with him to get Wolfram? "Greta..." Yuuri started. "It's dangerous..."
"But I'll have you to protect me, Papa Wimp." Greta scooted closer, using her big eyes against him. "Wolfram's mad at everyone else, but he never says no to me-- not when I'm there, anyway. I'll make sure he comes back!"
"Greta..." Yuuri tried again. He just-- couldn't imagine doing what he needed to in order to bring Wolfram back and having to worry about Greta at the same time. "I don't think it's a good idea..."
"Why not?" Greta pouted. "You can't keep me locked up in the castle forever, Yuuri."
"I'm not trying to lock you up, Greta. It's just that now isn't the best time for you to be traveling--"
The carriage stopped.
"But I have to go, Yuuri! It's not fair--!" Greta moved away from him-- yelling. "You can't just leave me all the time! It's your fault I'm here! You're the one who wanted me!" Greta sat across from him again-- fists tight on the cushion beneath her. "You can't just dump me on other people-- If you don't want me you should just say so--!"
"Greta, stop it! That's not it at all--!"
"Then let me go! Let me go with you!"
"Greta..." It was so hard to say no to her.
Conrad opened the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but--"
"You weren't interrupting ANYTHING!" Greta screamed, tears welling in her eyes. "I already knew what he would say." And with that she jumped from the carriage-- ignoring Conrad's helping hand and running up the castle steps at breakneck speed.
Yuuri swallowed thickly. It had all happened so fast... Greta...
"She's getting to a difficult age, Your Majesty," Conrad offered. "It's hard to--"
"It's Yuuri, Conrad." Yuuri nearly snapped himself. "How many times do I have to tell you?"
"Yuuri..." Conrad's voice was strained.
"I'm sorry... Let's just go." Yuuri let Conrad help him to the ground.
Conrad nodded, and squeezed Yuuri's hand before letting go, trying to reassure him. Normally something like that would have made Yuuri feel better, but for some reason it only added to the ball of anxiety growing in his gut.
"Gunter is preparing the conference room, as well as a small welcome dinner. Things have been a bit hectic so the spring tapestries were still up. Gunter is--"
"Being Gunter." Yuuri sighed. "When will he learn I could care less about the tapestries?"
"You are kind to indulge him, Yuuri." Conrad smiled.
"Where did Gwendal go?" Yuuri wondered aloud.
"He and the sage went to continue their talk in his office before the formal meeting begins. They want to be sure to tell you all you need to know as quickly as possible." Conrad fell into step behind him as they walked down the main hallway.
"I'm sure," Yuuri huffed. It was more likely they were deciding what not to tell him. Yuuri's hands tightened into fists. Later. First he would find out-- "Conrad. Tell me what's going on with Wolfram. Tell me everything-- I'll order you if I have to! Just tell me what's going on!" Yuuri was out of breath.
Conrad's face had hardened. "Alright."
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Greta had known all along that Yuuri would say no. No matter how many ways-- how many times she ran the conversation through her head. It always ended up the same.
And she had been right.
Yuuri had said no. Only it was worse than that-- She could tell he didn't want her to come with him. Yuuri didn't want her.
Greta reached her room out of breath and sticky with tears. Wolri jumped from the bed as she slammed the door shut behind her, scampering under the bureau at the sudden noise. She was so-- She hadn't meant to cry-- to let Yuuri see. Greta threw herself on the duvet with a huff-- face buried in blankets-- breathing in hot air until exhaustion overcame the need for tears and she had to turn her face to the side to breathe. Cool air.
Wolri jumped back onto the bed. The black kitten walked tentatively around her for a moment before pawing at the lacy ribbons that held up her socks below the knee.
Greta sighed. She didn't know how she would have made it these past few weeks without Wolri. Her little friend-- her family. She shifted, reaching down to pull Wolri into her lap. His fur had gotten so soft. The maids always complained-- fussing that it got everywhere, especially her clothes, but Greta hardly cared. It was worth it to have something soft and warm to hold. Something that loved her-- needed her.
Greta hated how lonely she felt-- how dependent on other people she had become. There was a time-- so long ago now-- that she hadn't needed anyone. She used to know how to survive alone. But then had come Hube. Yuuri-- Wolfram. They had made her weak and sad and alone.
Wolfram wouldn't come back. Not even for her. It wasn't fair that he had made her love him so much more than he loved her! There was nowhere Greta wouldn't have gone for Wolfram.
She had even tried. But Greta hadn't even made it past the final castle gate before she had been caught. It had been one of Wolfram's guards too-- familiar uniform. She had been so angry! Didn't this soldier know that Wolfram needed her? If she could only get to Caloria...
But Wolfram wouldn't come back.
And his letters-- Not one of them had ever really said why. She could guess of course-- reading them over and over-- listening to Gwendal talk with the others-- but they were only guesses.
She just wanted-- Greta just wanted him back.
Greta let go of Wolri and moved to the floor beside her bed. She crawled underneath-- something that was getting harder to do now, but she could still fit. Her sword was still here-- handle where she could reach from the bed-- but farther underneath Greta had cut a small slit in her mattress. A little hiding place. Her secret. Greta reached in, pulling out the stack of letters before returning to her place on the bed.
All of the letters had been kept in order-- nearly sixty of them-- sixty-three today. The birds usually come late though, not for another few hours at least.
With all the excitement of Yuuri's return she hadn't had time to write a new letter yet. It was most efficient if she could just trade letters when the bird came.
Greta squeezed the pile of letters in her hands for a moment, feeling their weight, the way the air moved away and only paper remained between her fingers. There was so much paper, so many feelings.
But so few words.
Wolfram was keeping himself busy. In the beginning-- In the beginning he had written more. The letter he and Yuuri sent at the same time-- reassurances. But now... Even when he did write, Wolfram seemed to avoid everything. All her questions, pleas for his return. Her angry-- scribbled-- long letters that sometimes held too much.
Wolfram's letters were always clean, neat, and reasonable.
Love, Papa Wolf
Always.
Always the same. He said he loved her-- but he still treated her like a child-- He didn't understand how much she thought-- needed-- hurt.
Greta scooted up the bed to lean against the headboard while she wrote. One of the political tomes resting on her bedside table made a sturdy backing for the flimsy paper. And then everything was set. Book nestled in her lap, quill in hand. All that was left was writing.
Wolfram would have insisted she use her desk-- do things properly. But Wolfram wasn't here. He should be happy she had been bored enough to keep up with the readings he assigned her.
Greta sighed at the blank page in front of her and dipped her quill into the pot of ink resting beside her bed. At least Wolri had learned by now that the quill wasn't a toy... He had ruined so many of her letters by being playful.
She closed her eyes, replaying Wolfram's last letter in her mind.
It was hot in Caloria now, and even though the plague had been slowing thanks to Gisela and the advice the sage had left, Flurin was grateful for the help. Wolfram had gone to the capital for a few days, and said hello to Beatrice and her father when they had come to visit Flurin. Wolfram had promised that once he came back Beatrice could come visit her as well. The letter had been short-- He was getting ready to return to his encampment in the east.
Greta missed being able to spend time with Beatrice, but now all she could think about was how much she missed Wolfram. And if Beatrice came... Beatrice was so pretty-- older-- and Wilfrido...
Greta shook her head. No point. Wilfrido was only interested in horses and being impossible-- and besides...
She was writing a letter.
Wolfram, she began. Her letters had been getting more casual-- Wolfram would just have to come home and remind her how to be more proper if it bothered him.
She continued, Yuuri came back today. Wimpy as ever. He only wants to talk about you.
Greta paused. Should she tell Wolfram that Yuuri was coming after him-- doing what she should do... But Wolfram was being so stubborn-- If he knew Yuuri was coming, he might think of ways to say 'no'. But Wolfram could never say no to Yuuri. Because... Because he was Wolfram and Yuuri was Yuuri and Wolfram-- maybe Wolfram loved him too much to say no.
And of course, Yuuri was king. If he ordered Wolfram to come home he would have no choice. But... If Yuuri was just going to do that, then he could just send a letter. He didn't have to go and get Wolfram in person. Yuuri must have something else in mind-- something he didn't want Greta there to see.
Ever since Greta had begun to understand the imbalances in Wolfram and Yuuri's relationship, she had always hoped that Yuuri would start to love Wolfram back the same way Wolfram loved him. Wolfram was always-- always sad-- somewhere inside. Greta supposed it was because she had always been so alone when she was younger, that she was able to recognize that same feeling in her father.
And that's part of why she felt so close to Wolfram-- closer to him now than Yuuri. Yuuri loved her-- but-- Yuuri loved everyone else, too. Wolfram... Wolfram only loved a few people. It made her feel more special to be one of them.
Yuuri seemed to have always been loved-- always been wanted. But Greta and Wolfram-- They knew what it was like to be overlooked.
Fresh tears started down Greta's cheeks. Yuuri didn't understand. Wolfram needed her. She should be with Yuuri to go after Wolfram. It wasn't fair!
Yuuri would just-- What if he ruined everything? What if he still didn't love Wolfram right-- drove him further away!? Greta wanted to believe that Yuuri would go and tell Wolfram he finally loved him-- make them all a family again.
But...
With Yuuri... Things with Wolfram were never that easy.
Greta wiped her cheeks and took a deep breath. She didn't know what to tell Wolfram about Yuuri... And who even knew-- if Yuuri used one of Anissina's inventions he might arrive before her letter.
Another sigh.
Wolfram,
Yuuri came back today. Wimpy as ever. He only wants to talk about you.
It was short. Her shortest yet. But.... Greta didn't know what to say. And so she ended the letter the way she always did.
Please come home soon. I need you.
Love,
Greta
Greta folded the letter and moved to lie on the bed next to Wolri.
The little cat began to rumble as she petted him.
"Meh," Greta prompted before Wolri made a little noise of his own, rolling over on his back to let her stroke his stomach.
Greta smiled and scratched behind his ears.
x x x
Yuuri didn't come to apologize.
It had been almost an hour. Normally whenever they fought-- even over something stupid-- Yuuri would always come to try to make her feel better... make himself feel better.
But Yuuri didn't come.
It made sense if she thought about Yuuri as king, as a person who had responsibilities beyond just being her father. But Yuuri had always put her above his political responsibilities when he was in Shin Makoku... Planning picnics with her and Wolfram... baseball with Conrad.
Yuuri must be getting ready to bring Wolfram home. It was the only thing that made sense but...
Greta wasn't going to wait for him any longer.
By now there was sure to be a guard outside her door, but Greta had figured out that if she climbed out her bedroom window it would take them up to a few hours to notice she was missing. And besides, it wasn't as if she was going far. They always knew where to find her this time of day.
In the early afternoons Wilfrido's father would be busy away from the royal stables, overseeing the soldier's horses a half mile away from the central palace. Wilfrido would be in charge of feeding Ao and the others while he was away. After weeks of persistence on her part, Greta had finally managed to convince him that with her help his chores could be done in almost half the time, giving them time left over to play.
Wilfrido... It had taken Greta so long to even come close to understanding him. He could be so nice to her at times. She could spend the afternoon just laughing with him over silly things... But sometimes he would yell at her. Be almost intolerable. Sometimes it was like he was two different people entirely.
But even on the bad days, when he acted like he didn't want her there, Greta could catch him smiling when he thought she wasn't looking. And so it wasn't really a suprise that slowly Wilfrido had become her best friend.
No matter how annoying he could be at times, Greta always found herself thinking of him. His guarded smile. She was glad he wasn't popular with the servant children-- that he never played with anyone else. Wilfrido was hers.
But today... today when Greta went to the stables Wilfrido seemed to be more annoyed than usual.
"What's wrong?" Greta asked as Wilfrido took out his aggression on a pile of hay, moving it into the feeding trough with a growl.
Wilfrido scoffed. "Did you tell anyone where you went, Princess? Do your father's soldiers know where you are?"
Greta blinked. "No, I--"
Wilfrido came over-- so much closer than he usually ever got-- hands on her shoulders. Shaking her. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? Are you really that stupid--"
Greta backed out of his grasp-- blood rushing to her face at the same time anxiety gathered in her gut. "What are you talking about? I don't tell them so you won't--"
"--look like I'm getting you into... into trouble!" Wilfrido's hair was wild-- bits of hay stuck in his braid-- dark circles beneath his eyes. "I have enough to worry about without you making things worse." He moved to slide down the wall until he was sitting, face in his hands. "Just leave me alone."
Greta didn't move. Feet stuck in place. "Is that really what you want?" A whisper. "I'm not trying to--"
"I know," Wilfrido groaned, still not looking up at her. "I know."
Greta moved slowly to sit beside him. Their shoulders were nearly touching-- She could feel his heat.
Wilfrido was the one who shifted. Shoulder to shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm just... sorry."
Greta's heart was almost racing out of her chest. Wilfrido smelled like outside and dirt. She wanted to lean her head against him. "I wish you'd let me help. I want to help, not make things worse."
Wilfrido never told her what was really going on. Greta had always suspected his father might be doing something... She knew about other children who got hit by their parents. Wilfrido had had more injuries when he'd first arrived, though... But maybe she just wanted an excuse to tell someone something... get Wilfrido taken away... make things better for him. But Wilfrido loved his father-- kept his hair the same. Greta didn't want to do anything that might make Wilfrido upset with her.
"I know," Wilfrido sighed and bumped her with his shoulder. "Thank you."
Greta leaned forward to hide her grin in her knees. Her skirt had slipped down to bunch above her waist, Greta was sure even the back of her underskirts would be brown with the dust of the stable floors. The scolding she would get from the maids later hardly mattered now. Her stockings were rough against her cheek as she smiled. "We're friends, right?" Greta mumbled, somehow afraid to look at him. "I mean-- neither one of us has anyone else-- and I'm good at helping you here." She paused, drawing courage. "I just don't understand why you never tell me anything."
An arm wrapped around her shoulder-- breath against her ear. "You're father's men warn me to stay away, you know. My father could lose his position here. He would be-- upset. And I would have to leave too. I-- I don't want to have to leave."
Greta could hardly breathe. Wilfrido had never been this open... this close...
"I don't want you to leave either," Greta whispered back.
Wilfrido's palm was pressed against her arm. Greta could feel it sweating. "I know." Then he moved away-- returning to his original position against the wall beside her. "You'll be the death of me."
Greta looked up at him and smiled. "Don't be so dramatic. I'll talk to Yuuri. I'll make sure he--"
Wilfrido laughed-- a high, panicked sound. "His Majesty?! You should know better than that, Greta."
She blinked. "But Wolfram's in Caloria."
"And at least some of his men are here-- Following you and giving me threatening messages."
Greta crinkled her nose. "Well, I'll talk to him, then. He's being silly anyway. Wolfram only wants me to be happy-- not lonely. You're my best friend. There's nothing for him to worry about. Especially since I'm keeping up with my studies."
Wilfrido sighed.
She smiled. "See, nothing to worry about."
Wilfrido only nodded.
Greta stood, shaking the dust from her dress before turning to look down at Wilfrido. "So, shall we get started?" If they didn't get Wilfrido's chores done soon, he was sure to get in trouble when his father returned.
Wilfrido hugged his knees-- cheeks red. "In a bit."
Greta put her hands on her hips. "Well then, what do you want to do?" Lately they had been using sticks to practice fencing when they had any time to spare. Wilfrido had learned some when he was younger, but he still couldn't compare to her, even if he was three years older-- or rather, two, now that she had had her birthday.
Wilfrido stayed where he was.
Greta leaned forward to frown. "Then what--"
"Don't do that!" Wilfrido snapped, making Greta jerk up in surprise. "It's not-- helping."
Greta pursed her lips. "Not helping what?"
"Nothing," Wilfrido groaned. "Look, Greta, can we do this tomorrow? Now... well can you do me the favor of writing that over-protective father of yours a letter? Let him know I'm not up to anything indecent with his little princess."
Greta bit her lip. She had come here to get away from thoughts of fathers. To not be miserable for a few precious moments. But-- But Wilfrido had been so wonderful-- finally opening up to her a bit. She supposed it wouldn't be fair to hope for much more in one day. "Alright." She nodded. "But... see you tomorrow, okay?"
Wilfrido smiled up at her, cheeks still slightly pink. "I'll be waiting."
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The conference room seemed vast-- empty-- even though all those required had arrived. It made Murata miss the more intimate setting of Gwendal's office. Fewer places for the ones he couldn't see to hide.
It was hard to remember that no one was watching him anymore.
Well, no one from the other realm, at least. Here all eyes were on him.
"Alright." Murata stood. Those assembled-- even Lady Karbelnikoff-- were not doctors. And even Shibuya was hardly acquainted with the more complex biological theories of Earth. This was not going to be the easiest of explanations. "The plague," he continued. "Is not, in fact, a plague."
Sir Voltaire nodded almost imperceptively. That much Murata had managed to explain before he left.
Shibuya's fists clenched on the table. "Yes, you said." He was trying to keep his voice in check. "But what exactly is it then?"
Lady Karbelnikoff leaned back in her seat. "You said it was the bread. A rye fungus ground into flour that caused plague-like symptoms."
It was Murata's turn to nod. "Neatly packaged all the way from Shou Shimeron."
"We can't be sure!" Shibuya nearly growled.
"I can assure you, Your Majesty, that the evidence leaves very little doubt as to the origin of the sickness," Sir Voltaire answered.
"But--" Shibuya licked his lips. "Shouldn't we be worried about helping them, then? If the plague-- or Not Plague-- started in Shou Shimeron... Then a lot of people there must be suffering."
"If that was the case, then why would Shou Shimeron have made that very bread its main export?" Murata sighed.
Shibuya narrowed his eyes. "What if they didn't know? It took you a while to figure it out too, and you have several centuries of experience on all of us. And you had to go to Earth to get materials about it... It doesn't make sense that it's something Shou Shimeron could have done on purpose!" He paused to take a breath. "I know how quick you all are to want to-- to blame-- to take military action. But shouldn't our first concern be helping the ones who suffered?"
"No one is suggesting war, Your Majesty," Sir Voltaire answered plainly. "But the question of action still remains. Things are not nearly so simple. During your absence we have made progress in slowing the sickness. The Demon Kingdom and our allied human nations were quick to place a ban on all exports from Shou Shimeron and inspect their own crops. But not all countries were as eager to listen to our warnings. There is talk of conspiracy to the south. Claims that the whole pandemic was merely a demon plot to lessen their numbers. An attempt to make them more dependent on our aid."
"But that's ridiculous!" Shibuya countered. "We're only trying to help! Can't they see that they get better when they stop eating the contaminated bread? It's just that simple, right?"
"Not quite, Your Majesty." Sir Christ bowed slightly in his seat. "It is easier for the humans to blame us, rather than Shou Shimeron. We, after all, have more military power. They have little reason to want to believe us, given our mutual history before the arrival of Your Most Esteemed Majesty. In years past Shou Shimeron has done its best to stay out of the affairs of other nations, winning itself many allies in its compliance. It is not-- easy-- for other human nations to think ill of them."
Shibuya groaned. "Fine. So they think it's our fault. But if they're going to think that no matter what we do-- Does it matter right now? The Not Plague was a problem... but now we know how to help people-- keep them from getting sick. Shouldn't there be some sense of crisis averted?" Shibuya nearly yelled.
Sir Weller put a hand on his king's shoulder.
"Sorry," Shibuya sighed. "I just... there's a lot..."
Murata sat. "I know." He looked across the table at Shibuya until the other boy met his eyes. "And all of it's connected." Murata licked his lips, trying to put it as delicately as he could. "The unfortunate events surrounding Sir Belefield's capture only serve as more evidence against Shou Shimeron."
"What?!" Shibuya sputtered. "That's not--"
"I don't think even you, Shibuya, would let that go unpunished-- Not to mention thousands of lives lost throughout the countryside." Murata's gaze traveled from one face to the next. "It is my firm belief that this world's suffering was no accident."
"That's not-- That's not fair," Shibuya answered. "What happened to Wolfram... The ones who did it are dead. It's not Shou Shimeron's fault-- You can't blame an entire country based on the mistakes of a few people!"
Murata closed his eyes. "Are you suggesting we do nothing, Your Majesty?"
Shibuya's voice was firm. "There is a difference between nothing and... plain punishment. Punishment can't change the past."
"How many times?" Sir Voltaire. "How many times do you intend on allowing them to--"
"Gwendal!" Yuuri snapped. "We didn't allow anything." A sigh. "Look-- You-- You said you weren't considering war... What are our options?"
"Occupation," Sir Voltaire answered. "We can complete a thorough investigation of their political system... Find the root of this whole ordeal."
"Shou Shimeron has been hiding its internal affairs for centuries, Your Majesty," Sir Christ continued. "Our scouts only continue to disappear. Any information we have about what could have--"
"Sara!" Yuuri interrupted. "Sara is on our side! If we can find him... Now that Reyes is gone we can just ask Sara! I'm sure he trusts me! If we can just talk to him--"
"King Saralegui has returned to his kingdom," Sir Voltaire nearly spat.
"Okay." Shibuya furrowed his brows. "So we know where he is... I can just write him a letter or... or something? I don't see why you're all acting like this is a bad thing."
Sir Voltaire's fist clenched dangerously on the table, but he remained silent.
"They wanted the code, Shibuya." Murata tried to speak as calmly as he could. "The ones who took Sir Belefield wanted him because they thought he would know the code that we started using in light of the strange numbers that began trickling out of Shou Shimeron around the time this whole thing started."
"But..." Shibuya started, face pale. "That doesn't mean--"
"An independent group, then?" Murata suggested, voice cold. "Someone starting on conspiracy to infect this world with poisoned bread and that nation's ruler knows nothing about it?"
Shibuya lowered his eyes.
"It wasn't only physical-- what they did to him." Sir Voltaire's voice was rough. "Physical torture... Everyone breaks. Soldiers are expected-- trained-- that the only thing they can save by their silence is time. There wouldn't... There is no need for something to affect the mind... Something to add a variable of madness to any information they hoped to gain... For them to have such control over what they were doing--"
"Wolfram told you!?" Shibuya blurted. "Conrad said-- I thought no one knew what happened!"
"We cannot be certain, Your Majesty," Sir Christ spoke softly. "Sir Belefield has said little about his encounter, this much is true; however, Gisela is with him. Given her observations... certain theories have been produced."
"Wolfram wouldn't have made it," Lady Karblenikoff continued. "If they didn't know what they were doing to him. At least enough to control the dosage." She crossed her arms.
"So..." Shibuya's voice was soft, broken. "Wolfram had the... the Not Plague while he was..."
For a while the room was silent. The comforting hand on Shibuya's shoulder traveled to his back.
Murata broke the silence. "From what I've managed to learn-- from Lady Gisela's accounts and Earth's history with the fungus... I suspect the only symptom they intended for Sir Belefield was the madness-- the mental affects. They must not have wanted him to die too soon-- before he could answer their questions. Of course, we cannot be sure of what they hoped to gain-- Perhaps when physical torture was ineffective they hoped that playing with his mind would be--"
"But why?" Shibuya choked-- nearly a sob.
Murata shook his head. "I don't know. Using Tooth of the Wolf in this way... Even on Earth governments have used its derivatives for mental experimentation-- torture."
Lady Karbelnikoff leaned forward. "Not our 'plague' then? A derivative? Something that removed other effects... They were able to change its... its structure-- alter it-- but that's only theoretical, even I--"
"Anissina," Sir Voltaire snapped.
"There are areas in which Earth has... advanced," Murata answered softly. "In this case, Tooth of the Wolf was altered so that the gangrene-- the more physical effects-- were lessened. Leaving something that predominantly affects the mind."
"But-- Wolfram's okay now?" Shibuya had leaned forward to support himself by pressing both palms against his forehead. "I mean-- when you say mental-- psychological effects-- He's-- He's recovered now, right?"
"I don't think... given that in this world Tooth of the Wolf remains in its raw form... that any damage would be irreparable," Murata answered. It was the best he could offer, without seeing Sir Belefield himself. Still, it wouldn't benefit anyone to have Shibuya worrying any more than he already was. "The point remains," he continued, "that it is all connected. The ones who took Sir Belefield came from Shou Shimeron-- the place where the infection originated. What was done to Sir Belefield is only further evidence of this connection-- as well as proof that those behind the spread are by no means ignorant to its cause. It's all connected. It all leads back to Shou Shimeron--"
"But Sara--"
"Why did he even come, Shibuya? Why did he propose-- seek you out-- only to run when the opportunity presented itself? It's all too much-- There is something happening. What if the 'plague'-- what they did to Sir Belefield-- is only the beginning?"
"But we can't be sure--"
"Shibuya!" Murata shouted. "There's nothing that is certain, which is why we need to find out exactly what is going on! You said yourself-- that I'm older than all of you-- I'm your Sage! You're-- You're supposed to listen to my advice!" He was breathing too hard.
Everything had been so much easier when he knew what was going on.
x x x
After Murata's outburst, the meeting hadn't lasted long. A compromise had been met. Shibuya had agreed to give Sir Voltaire and Grier permission to send as many spies across the border as they saw fit, as long as they avoided an official occupation, at least until Shibuya was able to contact Saralegui for answers.
Murata still thought that anything King Saralegui might say on the matter was sure to be lies at best, but at least this way Shibuya wasn't outright preventing any progress in the investigation. It was obvious that some of Shibuya's stubbornness was due to lingering resentment over their recent trip to Earth. Murata was pleasantly surprised that that resentment hadn't completely clouded Shibuya's judgment.
Something had to be done.
The sense of silent determination-- of worry-- lingered as those assembled for the meeting began to disperse. Shibuya lingered, though, excusing even Sir Weller to speak to Murata alone.
The moment the door to the conference room clicked shut Shibuya opened his mouth. "As soon as Anissina's boat is ready-- I'm going to bring Wolfram home."
Murata nodded. "I expected as much." He didn't say anything else, allowing the silence to prompt Shibuya's words.
"I know--" Shibuya began after a moment. "I know you're supposed to advise me, Murata. I just wish you'd stop making my decisions for me-- without even telling me there are decisions to be made."
"That's not what I'm doing, Shibuya," Murata sighed.
"Isn't it?" Shibuya asked. "Why talk to Gwendal about things before coming to me? Why-- why hide things? Am I doing such a terrible job that you think I--"
"Of course not!" Murata leaned forward in his seat. "You've done so much--"
"Then what is it?!" Shibuya finally raised his voice. "I'm so tired of this-- It always happens-- Over and over no matter who I ask-- No matter who promises me things will change-- Am I king or aren't I? Do you just keep me around because of him? Because of his power--"
"Don't be stupid!" Murata snapped. "Now you're just blowing things out of proportion. You're still young, Shibuya. Sir Voltaire and the others have experience that you shouldn't be so quick to ignore."
Shibuya glared.
"And besides." Murata removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "You ask me to consult you first for things, while at the same time you complain about your lessons with Sir Christ taking up too much of your time. Do you know how much time in endless meetings we all save by waiting until our suspicions are valid before bringing them to you?"
"I haven't complained about Gunter's lessons in ages," Shibuya sulked.
Murata sighed. "Not that you've had many of late... But before you get more upset-- consider this. You are asking me-- asking everyone to take you more seriously as the king while in the same breath you announce that you're running off to bring Sir Belefield home yourself when a simple written order would have sufficed."
Shibuya turned a telling shade of crimson. "That's different."
"I'm sure you think it is." Murata put his glasses back on. "But think about how the people will see it. You leaving after such an extended absence in this time of crisis."
"That absence was not my decision!" Shibuya glared.
"Be that as it may," Murata continued. "It is the way things are. You have to act on the reality of a situation-- whether you like it or not. You have to start putting the kingdom first-- before your own impulsiveness."
Shibuya bit his lip.
"You have done wonders for this world, Shibuya. No one has forgotten that." Murata paused until Shibuya met his gaze. "Everyone is only trying to do what they think is best for Shin Makoku-- for Sir Belefield, too. His brothers want to help him as much as you."
Shibuya looked away. "I guess..."
"We only push to make you stronger... And I suppose getting old mazoku stuck in their ways to change is an exercise in itself. Things won't change overnight."
A nod. "Alright. But... I still-- I still have to go after Wolfram. I have to bring him home."
"I understand." Murata stood, walking up to pretend to examine the large map adorning the wall of the conference room. "I'll accompany you-- along with Sir Weller. There may be some benefit to your impulsiveness after all." Murata raised his hand, fingers brushing the browning canvas. "But I have to caution you, as your adviser, to be careful with Sir Belefield. To leave in your position as the king-- to personally escort him back to the capital... You must remember that he is no longer your fiancé." A pause. "People will talk."
For a while there was only silence behind him, then he heard Shibuya move his chair-- standing. "I'll keep that in mind... Thank you." Footsteps headed toward the door.
"Shibuya," Murata called-- still without facing him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I needed to return to Earth. I should have."
A pause. "Thanks." The door opened and shut.
Shibuya still hadn't forgiven him completely, but knowing his friend... Murata knew he wouldn't have to wait long.
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Men.
Anissina slammed the heavy tome down on her lab table, sending a few glass beakers rolling over the edge, glass shattering on stone. She huffed and blew a strand of lose hair away from her damp forehead.
Gwendal had just returned to his office, leaving the charger for the banana boat whirring noisily with residual maryoku. It would take a few more hours for the absorbed power to be converted into mechanical magic. For now there was nothing left to do but wait.
And fume.
Anissina was sure she would never be able to fully comprehend the logic of men. Sheer stupidity.
His Majesty was usually better than this. Rushing off to return the boy Wolf to his rightful place-- safely ignored at his king's side once the mortal danger had passed. The young king was only thinking of himself.
Typical.
As much as Anissina wished to see Wolfram back safely home-- for Greta's sake more than anyone's-- it sometimes seemed like she was the only one who could see the bigger picture. The potential behind Wolfram's stay in Caloria.
These past two months-- nothing could have been better for Wolfram. Anissina had written him a few times-- unsurprisingly her letters had gone unanswered-- but Gisela had been kind enough to share what she could about Wolfram's life there.
The boy wolf had always been overshadowed by his brothers-- their talents-- reputations. He had never really been allowed to strike out on his own. To make a name for himself beyond his almost impossibly handsome features-- eerily reminiscent of the Original King's. Wolfram had never truly been given a chance to see what he could accomplish on his own.
In just two months Wolfram had managed to do well for himself in Caloria. While his brothers returned to the capital, Wolfram had remained to the south, setting up a small camp with Sir Grier and the same soldier who had set off with him to Lesser Gael.
It was true that most human nations denied that humans were the source of the recent deaths throughout the kingdoms, but even in Shimeron-- Suberela-- there were humans who believed the truth. Humans who had had enough. Men and women who had lost children-- families-- to Shou Shimeron's crop. Those who wanted revenge.
Of course, it would hardly be appropriate for Shin Makoku-- any demon nation-- to accept such humans with open arms. But Caloria was Shin Makoku's greatest human ally, and over time it was in the forests of eastern Caloria that they had begun to gather. Mostly men of fighting age-- men who without leadership could easily cause more harm than good.
Sir Grier had remained, at first in search of an escapee, but later as Gwendal's insurance that nothing else could happen to a stubborn little brother who refused to return home. However, a few short weeks saw Yozak and Wolfram as the impromptu leaders of the little human band. Dealing with the seeds of a potential political disaster was a comfortable distraction for Wolfram, and Gwendal allowed him the command out of nepotism and logistical convenience. As it turned out, Yozak's espionage experience combined with Wolfram's focused need for distraction had been the beginnings of the perfect human troops for the upcoming investigation into the inner workings of Shou Shimeron.
According to Gisela's letters, Wolfram had been handling the more basic aspects of training while Sir Grier taught all of them the more specialized skills of his craft. The most interesting detail of recent letters, however, was the boy Wolf and Sir Grier's growing friendship. Apparently it had become a problem in Sir Grier's reports to Gwendal, which had begun to leave out more and more details concerning Wolfram's mental recovery.
Anissina thought it was about time Wolfram had another friend. Someone who wasn't family or an unhealthy romantic fixation. And she was sure Yozak was capable of taking care of him, the same way she was sure that Wolfram loved Greta enough to come home as soon as he was truly able. From all the information she had gathered... The boy Wolf would never do anything to put his precious daughter in danger. Even if it meant staying away.
Yuuri was a fool to rush him home.
Anissina let out another sigh and flipped through some of the large book's dusty pages. The sage's comments about Tooth of the Wolf and its Earth derivatives had gotten her thinking about a whole new branch of magical research. At least tonight she would be able to channel her fury into something productive.
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Greta was finally asleep.
Yuuri worried his lip as he looked down at her, brushing a lock of hair off still-flushed cheeks. She had never been so upset with him-- never yelled nearly as much. It wasn't a surprise she had eventually tired herself out. Yuuri let his eyes run over her relaxed features, hair just below her shoulders-- Words in a language he still didn't know were half visible under pale blue sheets. The symbols were already longer, stretched-- changing as she grew. Greta was noticeably taller now, and today she had been wearing a new kind of dress-- laced up the back and entirely too tight around the waist.
When Wolfram came back... Yuuri would bring Wolfram home before he missed any more changes.
Yuuri sighed and stood. Greta's bedroom was so quiet now, but their argument still echoed in his ears. His own refusal to let Greta accompany him just didn't make sense. Of course it would be dangerous, but Yuuri would be there to protect her and so would Conrad and Wolfram. The plague wasn't really a plague so there was no more danger there... but Yuuri hadn't been able to let himself agree. Not even when he realized that having her there would probably be easier. If Greta came with him Yuuri wouldn't have to really do anything. Greta would use those eyes and Wolfram would crack-- cover his weakness for their adorable daughter by insisting that he had to escort her safely back to the castle himself.
It would be so much easier.
But somewhere deep in his gut Yuuri knew that this wasn't supposed to be easy at all. He didn't deserve for it to be. Yuuri had let Wolfram down so many times before. It was his turn to be strong. His turn to be there for Wolfram...
Even if he still hadn't decided what exactly that meant.
Yuuri held the doorknob still as he pulled Greta's door shut, nodding slightly at the guards positioned on either side. Just a few days on Earth and he was almost back to bowing. He really did have to pay more attention to things.
He brought his hand up to cover a yawn and nearly shouted in surprise when Conrad fell into step a few paces behind him. "Don't--" he began, before sighing. "You scared me, Conrad."
Conrad seemed more upset with himself than normal. "My apologies. It was not my intent--"
"I know," Yuuri interrupted and started walking again. He should have expected it really; he never got to walk the halls alone anymore. "Do you think Gwendal is still awake?" Yuuri hoped the question would help take Conrad's mind off his brooding.
"I'm sure he is, Your--" A breath. "Yuuri. I believe the sage told him of your intent to retrieve Wolfram. There is a lot to prepare."
Yuuri frowned. "I should have told him sooner." Still, maybe if he apologized now he could save the older man a few wrinkles. Decision made, Yuuri started down the hallways that led to Gwendal's office.
Neither of them spoke.
It was strange. Silence with Conrad had always been companionable. Conrad had always-- well, with the exception of the Shimeron Incident-- been a source of comfort. What had changed?
Yuuri paused as the thought struck him. He heard Conrad halt behind him as well. "Conrad... is everything alright?" Things between them had seemed fine this afternoon when Conrad had explained about Wolfram and Yozak's encampment in Caloria.
Conrad merely looked at him, eyes searching over Yuuri's face. For a moment Yuuri thought he saw a blink of sadness-- regret-- and something else, before the feelings were tucked carefully beneath a soldier's mask. "Nothing, Yuuri." Conrad smiled. Then he put a hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "Wolfram is going to be very happy."
"What-- I--" Yuuri spun around quickly, breaking Conrad's grip. His heartbeat hammered in his cheeks. "What do you mean?"
"That you're coming to take him back." A pause. "Wolfram has always liked having special attention-- Whether he'll ever admit it." A chuckle.
Oh.
Yuuri started walking again-- Anything to keep from facing that terrible pressure. He couldn't. Not yet.
Just put one foot in front of the next.
x x x
The inside of Gwendal's office seemed far too cold for a summer night. Yuuri swallowed hard, for a moment regretting his decision for Conrad to wait outside, before moving to stand in front of Gwendal's imposing wooden desk. "So," he began eloquently, "Murata told you about me going to get Wolfram."
Gwendal nodded slightly, causing the bag of ice balanced on his head to shift marginally to the left. A drop of water slid along his temple.
Yuuri shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He felt more like a child waiting to receive a punishment than a king. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner..."
A bead of water slid down Gwendal's forehead, pausing dangerously on the end of his nose. "Anissina's contraption should be ready by sunrise, should you still insist on using it."
Yuuri sat during the extended silence that followed. "You don't seem excited-- to have Wolfram coming home soon..."
Gwendal removed the icepack from the top of his head and folded his hands neatly on the desk. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but had it occurred to you that a simple letter might suffice?"
Yuuri bit his lip. Charging Anissina's inventions was obviously unpleasant for Gwendal. "Thank you for using your magic for the banana boat... I'm sorry if it gave you a headache."
Gwendal sighed. "That is not the source of my concern, Your Majesty."
Yuuri waited.
Gwendal looked at him hard. "There was a time you asked me to speak to you as a friend, Your Majesty, but I would like permission now to speak to you as Wolfram's brother."
Yuuri blinked. "Of course! You shouldn't have to ask for that, Gwendal."
Gwendal shook his head but didn't argue. "I never knew a time when you did not complain of your past engagement to my brother. You made it quite clear that you viewed it as a mistake."
Yuuri suddenly found it hard to breathe.
Gwendal continued. "Fate saw the end of it, and now both of you are free to pursue your own matters... of the heart. In your case, Your Majesty, this opens many doors for political alliance that were previously closed to us. While for Wolfram there is finally a chance to put an end to his... fixation."
Yuuri tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "What?" he croaked, "What do you mean?"
Gwendal's face had started to turn red, despite the calm evenness of his tone. "Wolfram's feelings were as obvious as they were unreturned. As his brother, I will ask you not to encourage him. A personal escort home will seem-- I know you care for him as a friend. Do not do this to him, Yuuri."
The world spun into a tiny pinprick of light, and beneath his feet Yuuri could feel the ground begin to move.
x x x
Yuuri made his way back to the royal chambers in a daze. He was a coward.
An absolute coward.
He couldn't even remember what exactly he had said to Gwendal. Yuuri had almost thrown up-- panic rose too fast, making his head spin. He had said-- Yuuri had said Wolfram was his friend-- Yuuri would do this for anyone-- What other people thought didn't matter. All half-lies. Desperate words spilling out of him until he all but ran from the room, concerned Conrad on his heels.
Thankfully, Conrad had grasped his need for silence and had followed Yuuri back without asking any questions. Yuuri barely heard his friend's "goodnight" as he closed the double doors behind him, now alone. Trapped in a room that seemed too large. Too full of memories.
Before he really noticed, Yuuri was sitting numbly on the edge of the bed looking down at his feet. He had forgotten to remove his shoes. Yuuri kicked them off, not bothering to undo the laces, and curled up on his side over the duvet.
He was a coward.
He would bring Wolfram home-- at least Yuuri had made it clear to Gwendal that he was still leaving with the sunrise-- but what was he thinking? What was he going to do?
Yuuri was a coward.
Even after all this time, even after all the pain his stubbornness-- his fear-- had caused Wolfram... Why couldn't Yuuri just admit it? Admit it and move forward. He had done it before-- so many times in his mind, but always with an excuse. Hormones-- self-sacrifice-- Why was it so hard to even think it? Something he must have known was inside him-- a snake in the shadows.
And the imagery-- always bad-- so deeply ingrained. Dirty-- Wrong. Disgusting and abnormal. Everything he didn't want to be but was.
It would be so much easier just to admit it. Make Wolfram happy. But if he did that, there was also the chance that Yuuri would give himself a level of happiness he was sure he didn't deserve.
Yuuri rolled onto his back and took a breath. Why was it so hard? Even the word-- Yuuri could hardly even think it.
A deep breath. In, in, out.
Yuuri closed his eyes. He missed Wolfram. He missed his friend. But Yuuri also missed Other Things more than he could properly admit.
Kissing.
Their first real kiss had been on this bed-- similar position. Something almost alive-- born of desperation and denial but so impossibly...
Wolfram had tasted so good. Been so close. Hot and soft. Soap from the bath-- a tickle of blond hair against his cheek. Needing to be closer-- closer-- more than he'd ever imagined.
Yuuri could feel himself reacting to the thoughts-- memories he had tried so hard to hide. But instead of stopping-- instead of hiding-- Yuuri pushed his mind forward-- let a shaking hand slide down his stomach and over a growing heat in his groin. He let out a shuddering breath at the touch. Licked dry lips. This time-- this time he would be brave-- allow the thoughts-- He owed it to Wolfram... to everyone... to prove it to himself beyond any doubt.
His other hand came up to join the first and Yuuri could feel the heat of shame spread across his cheeks as the click of his belt buckle sounded all too loudly in the empty room. Another breath.
Kissing. There had been lots of kissing. Yuuri knew he liked it-- more than liked it. Once they started-- it was always there-- waiting to be thought about-- acted upon. Rewards. So terrifyingly, amazingly good.
Wolfram was almost too good. It had made him so-- jealous-- competitive.
More.
Always, always, more. Wolfram's little room-- studies-- lips and tongues and heat. Yuuri had begged-- Wolfram had kissed him-- made him feel--
A small sound-- his own-- echoing in his ears as his hands touched flesh-- remembering Wolfram's hands on him. Rubbing. Heat. Slick friction. More shameful sounds. Wolfram's lips had burned his neck-- breath panting in his ear. Beads falling to the floor like shattered glass. Shame and release. Better than anything.
Better than anything.
Yuuri was sweating now-- could feel blood pounding in the hard flesh in his hands-- both hands-- stroking-- pulling-- thumb against the head.
Wolfram's hands-- so good-- his lips. Yuuri looked down at his own hands-- could imagine Wolfram's pink lips-- spreading-- wanting-- wanton-- impossibly hot. Fear.
Wolfram had-- with his mouth-- It still seemed like a dream-- so unlike the proper soldier who wouldn't even take off his shirt for a sumo match-- perfect pale chest-- Yuuri had seen it so many times in the bath. Muscles. Pink nipples. Lips-- Wolfram's lips on his cock-- throat-- inside. Inside. Other ways to be inside-- Heat and kissing.
Heat.
Yuuri gasped as his cock throbbed-- orgasm taking him by surprise. Wet-- thick on his fingers. Pulsing. Wolfram had swallowed. Suction and heat-- steady till the end.
Yuuri kept his eyes closed. Breathing. He knew-- He never denied loving Wolfram as a friend-- Wolfram's attractiveness. Now-- Yuuri wouldn't let himself deny it anymore. He wanted Wolfram to do things to him-- to let Yuuri-- He just wanted. In ways he didn't fully understand the logistics of. He had to be brave-- He had to take responsibility.
Even if it meant thinking of himself as gay. As somehow broken. Yuuri couldn't let his fears, what he knew could only be some sort of prejudice, stand in his way anymore. If he did-- he would ruin everything. Risk losing Wolfram forever.
No. Yuuri wouldn't let that happen. Another deep breath.
He loved Wolfram. Loved him in every way he could. No more pointless denial. Yuuri had to be strong. He owed it to Wolfram-- to everyone. Maybe even to himself.
Yuuri opened his eyes and for the first time in so long the anxiety seemed to be gone-- or at least manageable. He smiled. He had admitted it. That was the first step, right? And Wolfram loved him too-- even Gwendal had said so. As soon as he got to Caloria-- everything would fall into place.
Wolfram would be so happy.
Yuuri shifted to sit up and paused-- grimaced--
Oh.
It had been a while-- too long-- and he had not only covered his hands but his chest-- uniform top-- splattered with drops of incriminating thickness-- already turning white against the air.
Yuuri let himself fall back against the covers with a frustrated groan.
Why couldn't anything ever be easy?
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