Yami laid in the plush bed in the Wizard King's apartments wondering how something so thick and fluffy could feel so cold and barren. Two days had passed since the first day of trial. Two days for those released to the Church or to more permanent confinement to grow accustomed to their new lives. Two days since he had said good-bye to Luck, assuring the young man to the best of his ability he would do everything he could bring him home. Two days since he had seen Magna's spirit break. Two days since he had seen Charlotte, albeit from a distance. Two days since he had promised himself he would find a better way.

And in two days he had thought of nothing.

"I'm not smart enough for this fucking job, Julius." He sat up and lit a cigarette. He let the familiar burn sooth him. The King had called for the next round of trials to begin that afternoon. Now that the majority of those affected had been sentenced and sent away, the trials were bound to grow more difficult. He could not imagine the King would have brought up executions had he not been prepared to act on the threat.

But he had issued no such sentence.

Yet.

Yami finished the cigarette and lit another before he stood and stretched. He looked through the clothes which had been brought for him-clothes Marx had insisted were suitable for the job but which only confined him further. He grumbled as he found nothing which suited him and settled on a pair of dark pants and the least ornate tunic he could find. The sleeves were tight through the shoulders and as he looked in a mirror and ran his fingers through his hair, the seam connecting the sleeve to the rest of the shirt ripped.

"Ah hell." He pulled the rip until the sleeve fell away. Marx would be angry, but he didn't much care. He pulled at the other sleeve until it too came free. The sleeves fell to the floor next to him as Yami looked at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were ringed with dark splotches and they were bloodshot as if he had taken to drinking too much. He felt old and looked older.

"I need to sleep more."

But he knew it was a fruitless statement, even if it were the truth. Since the elven spirits had departed, he had found sleep nearly impossible. Every night was filled with worry-for his squad, for Charlotte, for his friends who had been imprisoned, and for the kingdom which now wept from the divisions.

A bell tower chimed like a deep gong echoing through the air. The trials would resume in a few hours, but Yami had a few things to do first. Despite how much he wanted it, a nap was not one of them. He needed to see Charlotte and to do that, he needed permission from the King.

Yami took a deep breath and steeled himself as he left his chambers and headed to the palace.

He waited an hour before the King would see him, and Yami knew he was making him wait on purpose. He muttered to himself, low and under his breath should anyone pass by overhear him. If what he said and what he thought was to make it to the King's ears, he too might be called out for treason.

As Yami paced the antechamber, mumbling something about how he was certain Julius had never waited to see the King like this, a man about his age, maybe a little older pulled open the door and called to him.

"His Illustrious Highness will see you know." The man's voice reedy but deep, like a bassoon. Yami stopped in his pacing and looked the man over. He was tall with an angular face framed in short-cropped dark hair. Thin lips curled up in a smile, but one more patronizing than welcoming. Yami held his gaze a moment, sizing up the man. Dark, intense eyes stared back at him, refusing to give in to intimidation. He held an air of righteousness, of divine self-importance, but did not seem to suffer from the King's petty faults. Yami had seen the man only a few times before, but never up close. The man had always been by the King's side in the shadows, whispering in his ear.

But now, after being able to see him clearly, Yami decided he did not like the young man one bit. He straightened himself to his full height, cutting an imposing figure as he passed the man, and strode into the throne room.

The King was attended by two nubile young women who barely seemed old enough to be called women. One held a tray of food from which the King nibbled, while the other held his goblet and a pitcher with which to fill it. Both women looked out at the world with blank faces.

"If it isn't the Foreigner. What brings you to our court before the trial today? What is so urgent it could not wait until we were forced to be in your presence?" The King plucked a grape from the tray and tossed it into his mouth.

"It has to do with the trial," Yami said. The King narrowed his eyes at him. "Your Grace," Yami added through gritted teeth. "I need to speak with one of the prisoners."

"Impossible. Only our inquisitors are allowed to speak to them." The King ate another grape. "Perhaps you can have one of them relay your message."

Yami ground his teeth together until his jaw tightened. He felt it pop as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"What I need to say is... personal. Sensitive. Something I cannot trust to anyone else."

A shadow moved behind the King and he leaned toward the hovering darkness, listening to whispers Yami could not hear.

"If you think it would be alright." The King's voice sounded skeptical as he glanced over at Yami.

"Very well, we will allow you the audience you request. Who is it you wished to see?"

Yami stared at him in shock for a moment as his brain caught up to his ears.

"Charlotte Roselei."

A look of worry crossed the King's face at the name and he leaned toward the shadow once more, listening to the voice hiding in the darkness behind him.

"I know I can't take it back now." He hissed just above a whisper, unaware his voice echoed from where he sat on the dais. "Of course. It is the least we can do for our Wizard King."

Yami did not miss the look of disgust which crossed his face as the King used the title Yami had been bequeathed. Honestly, Yami thought the feeling was mutual.

"Thank you." He turned on the spot and hurried across the throne room floor. The prison cells were in a separate part of the palace complex and deep underground. Yami rushed to the heavily guarded dungeon, ignoring everyone along the way as if he were a horse with blinders.

The guard did not believe him at first, but after a few minutes of arguing and a few threats tossed around, a messenger came from the palace with the King's orders. The guard quickly stood aside.

"Listen, I never wanted to turn you away in the first place, Wizard King, it's just..." The guard looked around and then shut his mouth and straightened to attention as if the King himself were suddenly present. "But orders have changed and you may enter the dungeon now." The guard stepped aside and allowed Yami to pass into the dark stairwell behind him.

Yami watched the guard's hand fidget nervously though the rest of him was perfectly still. As he disappeared down the stairs, Yami wondered what could make the guard so uneasy, what could make his ki so scared. He tried piecing things together as he walked down the cold dank corridor toward Charlotte's cell, but too man bits of information eluded him. He put the puzzle in the back of his mind-a problem for a later him to figure out-when he reached the heavy door and heard soft crying.

The crying was not like the wails of children separated from their families, nor the angry shouts of men and women fighting for their lost freedom. The sound was soft, quiet sobbing, lonely, grief-filled tears.

"Charlotte?" He looked through the small barred window in the door into the darkened room. Her blond head lifted, looking silvery in the phosphorescent light from a single glowstone mounted in the corner. The sickly light did nothing to hide the redness of her eyes as she turned to him.

"Yami." Her voice was too soft to be heard, but he could read his name on her cracked lips.

"Sir, you aren't supposed to be here." A guard rushed to the cell to argue. Yami held up the decree brought by the King's messenger. He did not turn his head, or take his eyes off of his lover for a moment. The guard took the paper from his hand and looked over it.

"Open the door," Yami ordered.

"Uh, Sir. This says you are allowed to speak with her, but it says nothing about..." The guard squeaked as Yami's hands wrapped around his throat.

"Open. The. Door."

The guard gasped as he fumbled with the keys at his waist. He held up a key on a heavy ring of similar keys and shook it a few times before Yami released him. Gasping for air and rubbing his neck with his free hand, the guard inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Yami pushed past him into the small room. Charlotte collapsed against him. He wrapped his arms around her, supporting her weight as she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair which was stringy, matted, and in desperate need of a good washing.

But despite it all, he held onto her like a lifeline. She sobbed wordlessly into him and he felt the dam he had built against everything he had experienced recently crack and splinter under the pressure of the emotions he had buried. He squeezed her more tightly.

He missed her.

He needed her.

He wanted her.

He hated to see her like this.

After a long while, her sobbing slowed to shallow breaths. Yami silently stroked her hair and rubbed her back. He did his best to memorized the feel of her in his arms. Eventually, she spoke.

"I remember it all."

Yami could barely hear her voice. He lifted his cheek from her head and moved back slightly to see her tear-streaked cheeks.

"The worst though are the screams."Her voice was distant and numb. "I never thought I would ever hear my friends scream like that. Never thought I would..." Her voice broke in a sob. "That I would be the cause of them."

"You weren't the cause, Charlotte."

She looked up at him then, meeting his eyes for the first time since he had walked into the room. The grief in her eyes was unmistakable.

"Wasn't I?" She curled in on herself, pulling away from him. "I could do nothing to stop her from taking over, from possessing me, from controlling me. I failed; I was weak, useless. Less than useless."

"You are far from useless."

"I hurt them, killed them. I nearly killed you. And if I can be so easily controlled that I would kill those most important to me."

"Charlotte, stop." Yami grabbed her by the shoulders and put a touch of authority behind his words. His intensity made her blink. "That wasn't you; it was her. In the fight, if it wasn't for you, many more would have died. You are responsible for saving thousands. I will hear nothing more about you being useless." He stroked her cheek. "Understand?"

She nodded but did not meet his eyes. Yami sighed. He pulled her into his arms again and held her until he heard a knock on the wooden door.

"Excuse me, Sir, but we are preparing to transport the prisoners to the trial." The guard's voice was timid, and he took a step back from the door as Yami glared at him.

Yami ran his hand over Charlotte's stringy hair, remembering the few times it had fallen smoothly through his fingers.

"Everything's going to be alright, okay? You need to stay strong."

Charlotte nodded her head against his chest.

"Are they feeding you enough?" He asked though he knew the answer as he ran his hands over her thin arms and back. Charlotte shrugged.

"Has Owen or... anyone else examined you? Have you told anyone?"

Charlotte took a step back and shook her head. Yami looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He looked over her as she moved through the small cell for the thin coverings they had given her for shoes. She was too skinny. True, the tunic she wore hung on her like a sack, concealing most of her curves, but even in it, he thought he should be able to see the growing roundness of her belly. He grabbed her from behind, eliciting a surprised gasp from her lips. He pressed his cheek into the back of her head and rubbed his hands over her belly.

"Yami. I'm alright." She placed her hands over his and leaned into him. Her words were meant to reassure, but her voice was hollow.

"It's not just you that I'm worried about." He whispered so only she could hear him. "I'll see about making sure you get more to eat."

"It's not fair, though. If they are all suffering, I shouldn't get special treatment."

"They aren't pregnant, Charlotte."

"Sir?" The guard called, growing more anxious the longer he waited.

"Fine," Yami growled in his direction. He squeezed Charlotte one last time.

"You need to tell them." He whispered to her before letting her go and walking out the door. The guard stepped back as he walked past, cowering slightly.

Yami didn't want to attend the trials. He was certain he should be doing other things as interim Wizard King, planning and strengthening defenses or the like. He wanted to be anywhere, to do anything which would keep him from relieving the last few weeks. He lit a cigarette as soon as he left the cell block, wishing he could go back to before everything happened to the day Charlotte had shown up on his doorstep out of the blue and told him he was going to be a father. The thought scared him then, sort of the same way facing a worthy opponent scared him-both terrifying and exhilarating. Now the exhilaration had gone and he was left with the terror. He wasn't afraid he would be a bad father though-those worries had fled the day Charlotte had been arrested. What scared him now was the thought he might not get the chance.

He walked up to the warden overseeing the prisoners.

"You aren't feeding them enough," Yami told the paunchy balding man who sat behind the warden's desk.

"We were told to keep them alive, not comfortable." The man flipped the page of the newspaper spread over the desk without looking up.

Yami gripped the edge of the desk and felt his mana expand into the zone around him. The warden looked up at him and narrowed his eyes.

"They are starving down there," Yami said through clenched teeth.

"What does it matter? They will all be dead soon enough." The man showed no remorse for those lives he held. "Those bastards killed my wife and sister. My nephew will now grow up without his mother. The lot of them can rot for all I care."

The wooden edge of the desk cracked as Yami squeezed it rather than the plump man's fat neck. He stared down the warden a moment longer, long enough for the other man to blink and look away.

"You will feed them more," Yami ordered, his voice a hard seething whisper. "You will do it or your nephew will lose more than his mother."

"Uh, yessir." The warden would not meet Yami's eyes as he folded up the newspaper and scribbled on a piece of paper regarding the new orders. Yami turned from the man and could feel him sag into his chair as he walked out the door.

He took a long drag on his cigarette, breathing in the last of it as he walked across the courtyard before he tossed the remains to the ground. He sighed as he pulled out another.

"I should have told him why," he muttered to himself as he stuck the cigarette between his lips and lit it. A deep inhale and long slow exhale later, and his muttering continued. "I should have said something about her, maybe she could be moved somewhere more comfortable, could be taken care off."

But as soon as the words passed his lips, Yami knew Charlotte would be furious if he used his position to help her when so many others needed help too. He watched from across the courtyard as the remaining prisoners were herded into a wagon. He saw Owen and Gauche enter the wagon before Charlotte. Both men helped her up. Gauche seemed more gaunt than usual and Owen, though already lanky, seemed almost skeletal. Yami's rage at their treatment only grew at the sight. He watched until all of the prisoners were aboard and the gate was shut. As the wagon drove off on a winding path through the city, Yami resigned himself to the inevitability of the trials and made his way to the courtroom as well.

"You're late," Nozel whispered as Yami took his seat next to him.

"I had something I needed to do." Yami looked over the crowd of the accused. Charlotte sat quietly. Her body was hunched and her arms were crossed over her belly.

"Owen's been, well, not cleared exactly, but placed in a sort of house arrest."

"Owen is too useful to hide away." Yami watched as the doctor was led from the stand and taken into custody. His shackles were removed and a magic device was affixed to his ankle. A guard took his elbow and escorted him from the chamber.

"Pretty much what the king said."

Yami turned his gaze to the dais where the king ruled over the proceedings. The king watched the events with an air of complete and utter boredom on his face. The intelligence and wisdom of his rulings from the trial's prior day were nowhere present in his face. Yami narrowed his eyes as he watched the king. He noticed a slight movement attract the king's attention to something just out of view. The king nodded before turning back to the trial.

"Gauche Adalai, please come forward." The bailiff's magically-enhanced voice echoed through the chamber.

Yami's head whipped around to see the tall young man step forward. He was still amazed at how thin Gauche had grown over the few weeks since the guards had taken him into custody.

Gauche stepped onto the platform where he awaited his verdict and sentencing. He stared defiantly up at the king, and Yami felt a twinge of pride coupled with the knot of fear which had settled into his gut as the second of his family faced the king's skewed sense of justice.

"Gauche Adalai, you stand accused of conspiring with a terrorist organization against the kingdom and willfully acting against the wishes of your king. How do you plead?" The king's nasally voice wove a thin, whining chord through the room.

"It doesn't matter what I say. Your investigators have already told you everything and you've already made up your mind, haven't you?"

The knot of fear in Yami's gut twisted at Gauche's defiant tone. The king's disgust at Gauche's behavior was plain to see on his face. Yami rubbed his hand over his face and pressed his palms together before resting his elbows on the railing separating him and the rest of the observers from the accused. He nestled his chin in the space where his thumbs met his hands and buried his nose between his palms. He shook his head at Gauche's actions, trying to steel himself for the worst.

The investigator on his case, a mousy woman with hair which used to be black, stepped forward. Despite her small stature, Yami could tell she was not a woman who was easily intimidated. She rattled off a list of accusations, the same list which had convicted everyone so far.

"The findings show Gauche Adalai is guilty of that which he is accused."

Motion on the dais as the king leaned back listening to something or someone drew Yami's attention once more. Who could have such unprecedented access to the king?

"Isn't it true that you have other crimes for which you were convicted, and for which you have avoided sentencing?"

"No," Yami muttered as Gauche's face blanched. A guard jabbed Gauche in the back as he turned to meet Yami's eyes.

"Answer the question." The king's weaselly voice belied his impatience.

"I, um," Gauche stuttered before another jab to the back made him spin around to confront the guard. The pair stared at each other for a long moment.

"Answer the question." The guard ordered.

"I was convicted before, yes, of minor burglary. After my parents were killed," he stressed the words which he had come to believe as true, rather than the story they had both grown ill and died. "I was forced to care for my young sister and myself alone. We had no one, and everything we did have was stolen from us. Everything except our name. I did what I had to do to protect her."

"So this sort of criminal behavior is simply in your nature." The king assumed.

"What? No. I may be selfish and focused on the one thing most important to me, but..."

The investigator cut him off.

"Is it not also true you escaped your punishment for your previous crimes?"

"The kingdom has no need for an unremorseful thief who is likely to escape his punishment. Honestly, I do not know how you were allowed to join the Magic Knights in the first place. You will be executed at dawn."

A hush fell over the room followed by an eruption of murmurs.

Yami ran his hands over his face, through his hair and down the back of his neck. He stared at his shoes, not surprised by the outcome despite the fury he felt building within him.

At a simple command, the room fell quiet once more.

"Yami Sukehiro, as the... Interim Wizard King, I expect you to carry out his sentence."

The knot in Yami's gut squeezed more tightly, and Yami felt as if he were going to throw up as he met the King's eyes.

"No." How could he? The king had no heart, for he might as well asked him to murder his brother.

"You are refusing a direct command from your king?"

"Your Grace," Yami forced the words out, feeling as if grace had abandoned the kingdom. "Since when is the Wizard King your personal executioner?"

"Since a foreigner was placed in the role."

Yami held the king's gaze for a moment. A test of loyalty, then, is it?

"It doesn't matter if you refuse or not. He will still die. And if you refuse, you can join him as a traitor to the crown."

Yami's eyes narrowed, but Gauche's voice broke the stare-down between the king and the wizard king.

"Yami." Gauche waited until he met Yami's eyes and then he nodded and hung his head in resignation.

Yami watched as Gauche was taken away. The similarity between his removal and Owen's struck him; guards led both men out, but one walked with a sense of freedom, his arms swinging by his sides, and the other in chains, dejected.

The king said something, but Yami could not make it out over the roar of anger in his ears. He felt a hand pat his shoulder in sympathy as he continued to stare at the doorway through which the prisoners filed on their way back to their cells.

"I'm sorry, Yami." A deep rich voice said behind him, but he could only stare at the emptying room.

He felt as if hours had passed by the time he finally stood. When he turned to the doorway which led to the small balcony, his family met him, standing, waiting in pregnant silence. He did not need them to speak for him to hear the question on each of their minds. Each of them asked, in some way, the same question which had haunted his mind since the ruling.

What are we going to do now?

Yami took a deep breath.

"I'm going to talk to Gauche."

"Are you going to do it, Yami?" Finral asked, breaking the silence of the squad with the question he knew they all wanted to ask.

"I don't know. Just... be ready for orders." He pushed past his squad, his family, or what was left of it.

The guards at Gauche's cell withered with a single look as he approached. Neither said a word as he entered the small room where Gauche sat on the small cot in the darkness.

The mirror mage looked up as Yami entered the room, fury filling his face.

"Gauche."

"It doesn't matter, Yami. You heard him. His mind is made up."

"But we could try to break you out. I mean, we hadn't tried before, but..."

"No. I've already escaped once. I don't think I want to press my luck."

Yami sat next to him.

"I won't do it, Gauche. I won't be his executioner."

Gauche sighed and stretched back until he leaned against the wall.

"If not you, he will find someone else. Plenty of guards looking for revenge against us."

"Revenge isn't justice. Not always." Images of Julius falling at William's-no, Patry's hand and the rage he felt then flashed through his mind. He had wanted vengeance then. Part of him still wished he could have it. He would have killed William himself, he knew, had the man survived the fight. A warrior's death had been too good for him.

"No, but perhaps this is. Maybe my death will sate the king, and he will go easier on the others, on Asta's friend, on Charlotte."

Yami squeezed his hands into fists until he could feel his short nails biting into his palms.

"Besides, I would rather you do it. I don't know. I guess it would... mean more if you did it."

Yami looked over at the younger man to see tracts of tears shimmering on his cheeks in the dim light of the cell.

"I only wish I could have seen Marie grow up. That I could at least say good-bye to her."

Yami sighed and leaned against the wall as well.

"You're resigned to this, aren't you."

"Yeah. As I said, I hope it's enough."

Yami sighed once more before he stood.

"I'm going to talk to the king. I don't know how it will turn out, but if everything he wants does happen... I swear to you, I will be the one to swing the sword."

"Thank you, Yami." Gauche smiled peacefully.

Yami nodded, though, with his closed eyes, Gauche could not see. Yami rubbed his hand over her face as he stepped out of the cell and the door closed behind him. He looked down the hall towards the cell where Charlotte was being held. He grabbed one of the guards by the shoulder and pulled him toward him. His fingers dug into the guard's shoulder and he stood over him, threateningly, his face very close to the guard. The guard tried to lean away, but could not escape.

"You will make sure that he had a decent meal tonight. And you will also ensure Charlotte is fed properly, three times a day, or you will have me to deal with."

The guard nodded his head rapidly, fearfully before Yami released him and he scurried away to the kitchen with the new orders. Yami walked the few steps to Charlotte's door. She was curled up on the narrow cot as best she could, her arms pillowing her head. Yami wanted to open the door, to step through, to hold her tight, but too much work needed to be done. Still, he wanted to touch her, to tell her everything was going to be alright, that he would do everything he could to protect her.

And, if he was honest with himself, he wanted her to do the same. He wanted her to wrap her arms around him, to brush her fingers through his hair, to tell him everything was alright, that it would get better. He wanted to cry on her shoulder, safe with her. She wouldn't judge, he guessed, or if she did, she wouldn't say anything about it.

But too many question marks remained. Too many things were still to be decided. And so his grief would have to wait some more, even as he felt it might consume him.

He turned from the cell door, and walked out of the jail, seeking whatever small boon he could for Gauche.

Night had fallen by the time Yami called Finral into the Wizard King's office. A pile of cigarette butts sat on the desk where Yami leaned over something, scratching his head. His discussion with the king had not gone well, but he had come away with a few concessions. The man who had greeted him earlier, who he had noticed before, whispering to the king, had been there once more. The king did not seem to move without direct instructions from him. Yami was sure the King would have deferred to the man had he been able to, perhaps he would have abdicated even, had he been able, had he not been needed to be the face of the monarchy.

Still, he planned to make the most of what he had convinced the king to accept.

First, the... execution had been postponed at least a few hours. No longer would he have to kill his friend and brother-at-arms at dawn, but rather noon would bring Gauche's downfall.

Finral knocked on the door before peeking in.

"You asked for me? Please don't tell me you need me to send you to the bathroom."

"No. I've got a mission for you."

"Is it... dangerous?"

"No. Or not yet." Yami had no way of knowing how dangerous his plan might become. He never felt he was any good with plans.

"Hopefully that 'not yet' means the dangerous part might not hit me until I'm on my death bed anyway..." Finral muttered.

"I need you to go to these two locations." He slipped a piece of paper which had been torn from a notebook across the desk to Finral. "You have the King's Special Dispensation." He slid another, larger, more formal document across the table. "Bring Luck and Marie."

Yami did not have to look up from what he was doing to know Finral was trying to piece everything together. He could hear the rustle of paper as Finral looked at the locations and determined if he could get there directly or not. The sound of Yami's pen against the rough surface of the paper as he signed a document echoed through the room.

"Yes, Sir." The paper rustled once more and Yami looked up at Finral, wondering if the younger man had ever addressed him so formally. Yami slid one last piece of paper across the desk to Finral. He watched as the spatial mage's eyes widened. Yami steepled his fingers and laid them over his lips. Their eyes met and Finral nodded before turning to the door.

Yami propped his elbows on the desktop and rubbed his face with his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the insistent tug of sleep. He needed sleep. He wanted to sleep. But instead, he lit another cigarette and turned his bleary eyes back to the plan he was hatching.