Chapter 21

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Wolfram yelled in frustration, face blood red and veins in his neck sticking out like tree roots. He had one knee on the ground and one fireball burning furiously in his palm, an orange-red. How could he have missed when he was so close? Was he blind? What was all of his training for if not for something like this?

The armor glowed, stones flickering around the neckline.

The grass to The Gaki's right had a black scorch line disappearing into the night with little pin pricks of yellow light dancing among the thick blades, threatening to become a grass fire. Thankfully, the wind had died down. No one manning the circle had been injured.

The creature growled again in displeasure. It was growing tired of this and the delightful scents of fear and sweat caused an aching hunger.

Green eyes narrowed as the creature lurched forward, mouth fully opened with a foul-stenched roar aimed in the blond's direction. The matted fur head shook from side to side.

"Damn it!" The ex-prince shouted back at the top of his lungs. "You will not win!" The armor heated up and there was an impulsive desire to stand up and rush at the thing with his sword.

Wolfram gritted his teeth, mind wiped away with pure rage. The avenging angel's visage held a spark in the torchlight. He no longer cared about the possibility of injury—his or anyone else's. And death held no fear. There was only rage and the blindness that came with it.

Seeing Wolfram on one knee, The Gaki continued to move with sure steps—standing high on back legs. The bloody-warbled sounds rose as it did.

Wolfram could feel his blood surging. And small pops of light, small stars, seemed to be floating around him, distracting his vision. He was sweating profusely but the knowledge seemed lost to him. The armor kept giving the illusion that it was lighter than it actually was.

He tightened the grip on his sword in one hand and let the fireball in the other blaze brightly.

"You won't…win," Wolfram half shouted, half choked with the smoke from the torches burning his eyes as the wind shifted direction. "We'll go together if we have to…you and I." He motioned at the creature with his sword. "I'll be your escort to Hell."

The Maou's eyes widened. Wolfram couldn't mean this. Couldn't carry out this threat. Or, could he?

The Gaki made a sudden dash. Running away.

"Now!" Anissina yelled, pulling the cord to her invention and another urine-laced bag arced to the east—splashing to the ground and setting off another wave of stench. The Gaki turned back with a roar and a yellow yoyo balloon flew into the creature's head. The Gaki lunged then galloped, smashing into a soldier-volunteer in the circle close to Yozak. The orange haired spy, rushed to the man's side and lifted him up to his feet. "Can you stand?" he demanded roughly. And the soldier nodded a weak "yes" before Yozak pressed his yellow yo-yo weapon into the soldier's hand. "Arm yourself with this and keep the circle!"

"R-Right…" He covered his nose with his sleeve. The air was foul; his eyes, watering.

Yozak drew his sword, knowing that it would offer him little protection at best.

The Gaki seemed to pace in a figure eight now—trying to decide what to do. And, then, it ran again. Black, rounded eyes turned as it made a rush at Wolfram.

The blond aimed his sword at the face. The creature leaped into the air, seemingly to pass up Wolfram in order to have a go at The Maou, and Wolfram stuck The Gaki in the soft part of the underbelly with his sword. Glancing up, there was the shadow of a long body with, seemingly, thousands of wriggling legs. With effort and a deep grunting-growl of his own, the blond flipped the creature to the right, making it land hard with a tumble.

Winded, the blond leaned over slightly—one hand with a sword and the other with a fireball. He was breathing hard. His lungs couldn't take in enough air. If he could just breathe enough to get him through this.

His eyes searched for his king. And kept searching.

The Maou was not standing where Wolfram had expected. He was, instead, closer to the part of the circle nearest the old well. The cuff at his wrist was glowing with a blue-white brightness contrasting with the long black hair billowing and eyes darker than the night.

Wolfram felt a slight panic for the first time. Hell… Now, we're separated.

The Maou was closer to the creature once it paced back and Wolfram felt fury that he'd simply reacted without looking to where the monster would land. It was basic strategic planning. What was wrong with him? It was just so hard to think.

"Yuuri!" He shouted—a mix of concern, anger, and terror.

The Maou's eyes, black with slits for pupils, turned to Wolfram—a strengthened bond forming within as he took the orbs of water he'd been holding and redirected them. He reshaped them into water dragons—pulling still more water from the old well as he did so. The cuff he was wearing brightened and glittered with malevolence. There was a cruel edge to The Maou's profile as he worked.

The dragons, more vicious in design and form with serrated, almost shark-like teeth and curved talons, encircled The Gaki.

And, then, a roar of pain and frustration.

The water dragons hissed a warning before biting into the creature and gnawing into it within strong jaws. Their heads shook, trying to force the vile body in two different directions.

With furious screams, the creature fought back, trying to use tusks to free itself. But, to no avail. It struggled as Wolfram sheathed his sword and shaped a proud fire lion at his side.

The noble, blazing creature pranced in place. Holding it back until fully formed was almost impossible.

With a formal sweep of his arm, Wolfram pointed the way and the fire lion raced forward—jaws open and flames burning. The ground scorched and left burning patches behind it as it traveled for its prey. And, in an instant the fire lion was upon The Gaki—fighting and burning—the smell of singed fur added to the stench. The fire lion cared not if the water dragons put out part of the flames on its paws as it tore in. The steam burned and the creature turned to fend itself with its tusks. The lion took the neck in its jaws and bit down hard.

A bloodied roar met the night. It was followed by a smoldering carcass drenched with steaming water hitting the ground.

Conrad was still running to Wolfram, arms pumping. He'd gotten as close as he dared and then just abandoned his horse in a single bound when he got near enough. The distance seemed to take forever. He had to reach his brother. To see him safe. To know he wasn't injured again. To simply know because his heart couldn't stand the wait.

His steps were too slow no matter how hard he slammed them into the earth.

Wolfram shook his head "no" and began to back away—away from Conrad, away from the men who were examining the steaming body on the grass, and away from Yozak who had come from the circle to congratulate him.

Wolfram stumbled. "Stay back," he gritted out in pain as his armor began to superheat his body. Wolfram was covered in sweat, his face unnaturally red, and his mouth hanging open slightly. He pushed the heels of his hands against his temples as he fell to his knees, breathing roughly. Each breath was deep, heavy, and labored.

"Wolfram, what's wrong?" Conrad asked desperately, kneeling closely and forcing his hand away from his brother as another warning "Don't touch me!" became a shout.

"I don't understand. What's going on?" Yozak asked Conrad with worry and then the group around him murmured in agreement.

Wolfram was clearly in pain—the muscles constricting to the point where he could no longer hold his sword. It fell to the ground with a brief, metallic ring. The armor continued to hum at a deeper tone than ever before. The stones set in the armor took on a dirty appearance and seemed, from the way the ex-prince reacted, to burn into Wolfram with each pulse.

"Beloved," The Maou said gently, easily stepping through the group as the men made way for him. "Come with me." He reached out a palm for Wolfram to take. But Wolfram's head was down now, both palms covering his eyes—the pain was now behind his eyes, the bridge of his nose, across the top of his head, and just the thought of moving made him want to cry harder. He wouldn't have the power to stop himself if someone touched him. He would burn them the same way he was burning.

"I'm too hot…to touch," the blond moaned out. "I can't move and you can't lift me without being burnt, so…" He panted roughly to tolerate it. The pain was eating him alive. "I think…this is how it ends…" A hot tear fell down Wolfram's cheek, mingling with a drop of sweat. "I really…wanted more time with you, Yuuri…engaged or not… In the end…" He looked up into the eyes of The Maou, "…You gave…my life joy."

And, maybe, love is like that…maybe… I'm glad I had a taste of it before the end came.

And, in those moments, Wolfram loved life—and appreciated it. The little things that people did for him. The times they were together as a family. He'd never apologized to Conrad for treating him so badly—hating him for the sin of being who he truly was, half human. And, now, no matter how much remorse he felt for it, there were no words to heal it. He'd had his chance and it was gone. Yuuri would, Wolfram hoped, assure Conrad that it was okay now. Maybe, if Conrad could find it in his heart, he'd come to his grave and they'd talk the way they should have all those years. Yes, Conrad would talk and Wolfram would listen. For, that's all the dead can really do—listen.

Wolfram felt something icy-cold wrap around his legs and rills pouring down the back of his armor plate. The "fire and ice" feeling tore into him, making his body jerk uncontrollably. Wolfram's hands tried desperately to unbuckle the leather ties on his armor. Quickly, the heat returned—steaming him up to the point of almost boiling.

A slender finger traced the bottom of Wolfram's chin, sliding up sensuously and tilting the blond head up to look at him. Wolfram saw passion in the black slitted eyes. The cuff on The Demon King's wrist was glowing in a set pattern. The name "Beloved" floated to him and Wolfram closed his eyes again—exhausted.

"This way," The Maou ordered his dragons offhandedly, walking past a very wide-eyed Gwendal who couldn't believe what he was witnessing. A barely conscious Wolfram was wrapped up in The Maou's water dragons and said dragons, along with his baby brother, were following the Demon King inside the castle. "We'll be taking your bath, Gwendal," the dramatic voice boomed back at him, "because it's closer and I have to strip your brother naked anyway."

Crickets chirped. The wind blew.

All heads turned very slowly.

Somewhere in the background, Yozak said words to the effect of "Well…umm…yeah…"

The men around gawked, waiting on pins and needles to see what he'd say to that. Lord Gwendal von Voltaire, the blue eyed first son of the previous Maoh, stern Commander of the Mazoku Army, and chief administrator for the kingdom was just passed by as though he were nothing while the king proclaimed in front of the whole castle that he was going to "strip" his baby brother "naked" in the bath he used every single day.

A hand waved back and forth in front of his vision. "Gwendal?" Gissela whispered his name in his ear. "Are you there, Gwendal?" She had managed to slip through the throng to reach him.

Gwendal mumbled something incoherent.

"Check on your brother, was that?" Gissela said again, head cocked to the side. She was guessing, of course. "I think I'll do that as soon as it's…safe…" She laughed nervously as she linked arms with him and directed a zombie-like oldest brother into the castle followed by Conrad and Yozak and the rest of the group outside. "I prescribe wine in large amounts until everyone feels better."

There was a loud cheer to that one from behind and Gwendal sighed heavily as he allowed Gissela to lead him on. He was sure there would be a large goblet of wine in his immediate future thanks to the healer. Conrad and Yozak linked arms, whispering about the events in boyish fashion. And Dorcas along with Hube simply shook hands—congratulating themselves that they survived the night and their dealings with Anissina.

Anissina plopped herself down in the wagon and frowned a bit to herself. She had one urine bag left and she was disappointed that it would go to waste. Then again, she could always offer it to Sage Kenneth when she returned them home. Of the three, she was certain that he would appreciate the gift.

"Hurts!" Wolfram cried into his hands as the water dragons pulled him into the administrator's bath. The light inside was blinding him. Outside, the torchlights were bearable, but this was too much. He was going to gag in the next second if the brightness and the movement didn't stop. Couldn't he just curl into a ball and hide his face?

Something wet and cold nudged him into a sitting position. All Wolfram could do was go along with it. The blond could feel something like wet fingers trying to unlace the leather straps holding his cavalry breastplate together. Each jar or jerk shot a streak of intense pain that flooded his senses and made everything blank out in white, hot heat. His body burned, especially at the V-shaped waist. It was the kind of pain that would make him crazy and breathing through it wasn't easing it up. And, in a few minutes' time, he felt that, if tortured this way by an enemy, he would have told the other person anything just to make it stop.

Snap.

Wolfram sobbed into his hands as one strap was freed and then the other. At the neck and shoulders, the front and back plates eased apart. Relief. It hit him like an entirely new emotion. Blissful. Floating. It felt so good but all he had the strength for, now, was the effort to breathe.

Wolfram opened an emerald eye. The water dragons were still holding him up and the water felt deliciously cool now.

The blond turned his head, seeing that he was alone with The Demon King in the medium sized bath he'd used with Gwendal on several previous occasions. The steam was rising and casting puffy, moist-filled clouds everywhere. The dragons seemed to be kinder now, friendlier—gentler, than when they held The Gaki.

As the double black approached, his body began to transform back again into more of a youthful shape with a lithe form.

"Yu…uri…" Wolfram breathed the name and his companion smiled at it.

Yuuri motioned to the dragons as they coiled around Wolfram. They opened their jaws as they leaned in and, disbelieving, Wolfram's eyes widened. Still sitting within their grasp on the floor, he began to lean because he simply lacked the energy to fight them off or escape. The thought of crawling off was good. Sharp teeth approached. His mind still pain-filled and thick.

Gently, the mouths opened and teeth bared. They crunched into the front and back plates—tearing them away like tin foil.

With a gasp, Wolfram felt something break inside of him. The synchronicity was gone and his heart beat out of time. The blond slumped to the tile floor and breathed freely for the first time in forever, it seemed. The ex-prince opened his mouth to speak, but lost the words. Lost his thoughts as the dragons slid away and joined the water in the tub.

Somehow, the ex-prince had the strength to open his eyes and stare up at the ceiling. The plaster was cracked and a small spider was busy building an orb in the far corner.

How long had he been doing this?

Wolfram turned his head to the side and blinked as bare feet padded up next to him.

"Sit up, Wolfram," Yuuri said evenly.

Wolfram didn't feel like debating it. He struggled to a sitting position with the double black taking his forearm. Then, he felt Yuuri push his arms up over his head. Before he knew it, the sweat-soaked shirt he was wearing disappeared off of him.

"Lie back."

Oh, that was an easy one. The blond relaxed his body and the tiles came up to meet his spine painfully. Maybe, he should have put a little more effort into stretching back leisurely. Well, it seemed such a good idea at the time.

"Hips up."

"Eh?" Wolfram muttered, not getting it at all.

"Raise your hips."

Green eyes blinked at where the voice was coming from. It was his belt buckle—which had already been unlatched, opened, and his fly unbuttoned all the way down.

Yuuri rolled the fabric of his dark blue trousers down a bit more and then tugged. "Hips?" followed by a "thanks" when the blond complied.

Now in his underwear, Wolfram struggled to sit up again. "I feel…" He put a hand to his head. The room was spinning.

"That thing was overheating you," Yuuri explained, "so, I got rid of it." A slightly devilish smirk came to him when he added, "You'll never wear that armor again." That was followed by a sharp snap against skin.

Wolfram glanced at the side as he removed his black thong underwear. Yuuri had snapped the waist as a hint to take it off and the blond was slightly embarrassed at that even though they'd seen each other naked dozens of times. But, the shyness was there, for things were different now—they were different. Looking away was easier. Now, Wolfram could see the remains of his armor—mostly shredded pieces of curled, razor sharp metal lying next to an ornate cuff with a dragon's teeth impression where it had crunched it flat.

The blond sighed and allowed his mind to fog up, just like the bath was doing.

"Lie flat," Yuuri stated and hovered his palms over Wolfram's body. The green glow began to heal the gashes and scrapes. One knee looked as though the skin had been roughly sanded off, leaving a bloodied scab forming. There were bruises and Wolfram's palms seemed sunburned as was his neck and waist where the armor came down into a V shape.

The blond relaxed as he felt the healing glow penetrate him. He hummed appreciatively as the sensations hit him—warm, relaxing, and with a touch of tingle.

"I don't feel any other injuries on you, Wolf."

Wolfram's face grew prideful even with eyes closed. "Of course…I never let the creature see my back."

"Of course." Then, he quirked a grin. "Just hold still, Wolf. Okay?"

"Hmmm…sure…" the blond easily agreed. It just felt so good at the moment. His strength was returning, but still... "Anything…"

The healing magic stopped and Yuuri caressed Wolfram's bare arms, chest, waist, and legs with a single sweep of his fingers.

Wolfram's eyes widened at the touch and he fought the urge to curl in on himself for modesty's sake. It was only when the thought of Yuuri being too innocent and not comprehending what he was doing that made him stretch out again.

"Still too warm," the double black murmured to himself.

"I'll be fine," Wolfram countered. "I'm a fire wielder. My body can handle being a few degrees higher than normal."

The answer to that was a disbelieving "humph."

Yuuri returned with a small container of water and white washcloths. He drizzled the water over the fabric, knelt down, and placed the soaked pieces of cloth on Wolfram's forehead, wrists, and neck. "You know, sometimes the guys get overheated in baseball practice. So, we do this. Later, I'll have Gissela check you over."

"I see..." Now that he was more awake, it made him a little bit happy to have Yuuri make such a fuss. Though, he'd never admit it to anyone.

"I hope this feels okay," Yuuri added, brushing Wolfram's damp blond hair out of his eyes. There were still strands sticking to porcelain skin, which made Yuuri have a second go at it.

It tickled.

Wolfram raised the newly healed knee towards the ceiling, his still slightly throbbing back enjoyed the cool tiles and he could feel his body temperature lowering. "The cold rags feel good on my skin. This room seems a bit cool, too."

The double black chuckled at him. "Nope, you're just that hot." Holy crap! What did I just say? He slapped a hand over his mouth and his eyes bulged. And Wolfram gave a side-long glance with a smirk attached to it.

"Glad you finally noticed," the blond chuckled to himself. He broke into a smile when Yuuri, blushing pink, shoved his shoulder playfully with a growled "W-o-l-f-r-a-m!"

The blond cocked his head a little to one side. "Oi, what about being gentle to a patient, Dr. Yuuri?" he teased lightly.

Yuuri could feel his heart speed up.

"What? Oh, we are not playing 'doctor' now," he came back with a deeper blush. Okay, that one was worse than my "hot" comment.

Wolfram's grin widened. "Come to think of it, I'm mostly naked right now. So, you could examine…" There was a soft but devious chuckle and an invitation hanging between them.

"S-Sit up," Yuuri sputtered while lifting Wolfram into an upright position. Shoving the blond was what he ended up doing when the blond's relaxed body failed to cooperate adequately. Yuuri also straightened the white towel around his own hips as he situated himself directly behind. "I'll wash your back right here. I can't let you into the tub because of the battle, that armor, and The Gaki. I'm concerned that your body temperature is just too high." He grabbed Wolfram's shoulder and tried to steady him again, making him sit straighter. "So, let's wash you."

Wolfram's lips turned upward again. "Oh, so…?" He leaned his handsome head backwards, resting it weakly on Yuuri's shoulder. "So, you're going to be my shower?" Yes, he was feeling better now. He could tease Yuuri.

A cold splash of water got him in the side, cramping up the muscles there. "AAAhuuhhh!" He echoed off the walls. "Ah! Why you…!!!" the blond growled out with disgust and anger in his voice. His body shivered as cold rivers streamed down to his butt, making a cold puddle gather down there around his rump. "What were you thinking?!" Hands balled into fists.

A black eyebrow arched.

"Just cooling you off, Wolfram. Just cooling you off."

Yes, he meant it. He had apologized one hundred times. He said "sorry" as the blond struggled to his feet, casting furious glares that Yuuri was certain that he deserved for that cold water splash. He said "sorry" when Wolfram stumbled slightly, slipped on a wet tile, and trod a foot down onto a piece of sharp, torn metal that had once belonged to the breastplate. The blond kicked it to the side, grabbed a white towel, and kept going.

The wooden door slammed open as it hit the wall.

Yuuri raised his voice, said "Sorry!" and ordered Wolfram to stop when he spotted a pink-red blood trail coming from the bottom of Wolfram's left foot as he stormed out of the bath doorway wearing nothing but a white towel around his hips.

There was a "screw you" added to that.

"Damn it, Wolf!" Yuuri ditched his towel. Pathetically, he tried gathering up his pants and underwear to put them on quickly, but he was sure Wolfram was going to be out of sight by the time he managed to wrestle the clothes on. And only Shinou would know where the blond would hide after that.

Ditching the underwear, Yuuri just rammed a leg into each side of the trousers, pulled up the cloth up—making a grotesque face as he'd never felt such rough fabric there against his naked body—and started to fiddle with the fly as he hobbled along after Wolfram—only to smack into Lasagna who was rooted to the spot in shock as she had just witnessed Sir Wolfram von Bielefeld exiting Gwendal's bath muttering curses loudly, not befitting the prim and proper reputation he always had. Lasagna covered her giggles with a hand as she came face to face with Yuuri, still struggling with his fly. Wet, wrinkly fingers just didn't want to obey.

"Majesty," she curtsied low to hide her mirth.

Yuuri saw her, pieced it together, and took off in the direction of the pinkish, watered down blood stains on the floor.

"Wolfram?!" He called loudly. "Wolf!"

All traffic in the hallway came to a standstill.

It was breezy, too cool. Wolfram was wet and wearing only a thin towel that was sticking to his porcelain skin shamelessly and becoming very transparent as the water was absorbed. Dripping hair sloshed into his eyes. More wetness traveled down his shoulders, cascading clear beads down his chest and back—making his muscles from all those years of swordplay stand erect.

Some of the servants simply gawked. A small group of young maid servants gathered together and whispered as he passed saying things like "Mmmm…natural blond…huh?" Guards stood at attention, but their eyes moved.

Wolfram bit his lower lip as his walk became a march. He shook his head, letting the water fly in all directions. Undignified? Yes. But, at least it stopped the incessant dripping.

He kept on going.

"Mother," he gritted out as he passed Lady Cheri without looking at her. She had been chatting with Gissela, Gwendal, and Günter in the hallway, worried that her son's condition had not been reported to her.

Wolfram tried to put distance between them.

Gwendal followed his brother a few paces, a hand on his hip. "Wolfram? You come back here this instant." His frown deepened when the blond ignored every single word. "I just told you to…!"

"Excuse me!" Yuuri said, almost barreling into him. "Sorry!"

Gwendal's blood pressure rose when he stepped aside only to see that Yuuri was chasing after his little brother wearing only a pair of black trousers with large wet patches on the left leg, right hip, and bum.

Bare feet slapped on the stones, passing four of Wolfram's men who were wearing his traditional blue uniform.

"Oi, Wolfram!" the black-haired maou shouted with a whine edging into it. "I'm sorry, okay? How many times do I have to say it before you forgive me?"

Anissina, who was in the process of explaining her invention to Greta, suddenly gaped, muttered something about "stupid men," covered Greta's eyes with her palms, and steered the child back the way they'd come.

"Was that Wolfram?" Greta asked sheepishly.

"I couldn't tell," Anissina snapped. "I've never seen him that 'undressed' before."

"Aw…Wolf? Come on!" echoed everywhere. It was that whine Yuuri was famous for.

Wolfram kept walking, nose in the air and arms folded defensively, and Yuuri redoubled his pace. "Wolf, I know what I did was mean and you weren't expecting it. Okay?"

By the corner, where the blond would take a right to go to the royal chambers or a left to Gwendal's, Wolfram stopped and threw a glare at Yuuri. The blond was crouched over slightly, shivering now, hands clutching his arms, and fingers digging in.

From a distance, everyone could see Yuuri putting a hand on Wolfram's lower back, coming close, and whispering something to him in his ear. The blond seemed to lose some of his anger. Yuuri kept speaking to him and Wolfram's expression softened even more. And that look of "You hurt me but I still love you" followed. But, in doing so, Wolfram's bashfulness returned and he bunched the white towel to keep it closer to him. It didn't help, though. If anything, it made the towel more transparent and the curves of his body more evident.

Yuuri chuckled to himself. The sound of his voice carried.

With patience, the double black guided Wolfram to the right—seeming more like an old married couple, now, than the bickering pair they had been seconds ago.

"This is outrageous!" Gwendal fumed. "Just…Just look at them!" he pointed as the two disappeared from sight. Wolfram's head was on Yuuri's shoulder.

"How wonderful! Do you think romance will blossom tonight?" Lady Cheri's clasped hands rested across her ample bosom.

"Mother!" Gwendal barked.

"Well, with him parading all wet and only in a see through towel," Gissela thought out loud, "I'll probably have to check him over tomorrow to make sure he hasn't come down with pneumonia or something."

"My child is always so level headed," Günter bragged, only to get a heated glare from Gwendal.

Somewhere in the distance, the heavy doors to the royal chambers slammed shut and Lady Cheri squealed with approval. Turning to Gwendal she said, "You're giving them both the day off from work tomorrow."

"What?" Gwendal boomed and drew more attention from the hallway. At this point, he didn't give a damn. "Why?"

"Because I have a lovers' breakfast to plan! We'll deliver it to their room at noon!" she chirped and made her way to the kitchen.

Gwendal smacked his hand over his face. Sometimes, he really hated his family.