8. The Radiance of the Sun

(A/N: This is a continuation of the story started in 1. "Marriage Proposal." Contains some plot speculation.)

"You really do look just like him," a quietly sublime voice murmured.

Wolfram turned, pulling his eyes away from the painting of the Original King that he had been gazing at for some time. Murata was standing a few feet behind him, his arms folded and his head inclined slightly, light from the setting sun glinting off his wire-frame glasses. The boy gave Wolfram a good-natured smile that somehow raised his hackles, and his eyes narrowed unconsciously.

"You're not quite as tall," Murata continued, not noticing or choosing to ignore the fairer boy's reaction to his presence. "But then, you're not finished growing yet, are you?" He stepped forward to peer up at the painting. "It's not a bad likeness, really."

Wolfram looked back up at the hauntingly familiar face gazing down at them. He had passed by it many times, but today he felt drawn to it, as though there was something there that he needed to understand. As he studied the portrait of the greatest Mazoku that had ever lived, he struggled to understand the fragile thread that connected them through blood across the generations. What was he supposed to see when he looked up at that face? Was he looking into a mirror? Was he looking through time? Was he seeing the past, or the future?

He stirred, running one hand through his tousled hair. Where does the resemblance end? he wondered pensively.

And next to the Original King was the portrait of the Great Sage, silently mirroring Murata's serene expression. Black hair, black eyes, darker than death. The man who was not dressed for war but was nevertheless unquestionably deadly. "What was he like?" he finally asked, turning to face the sage now standing beside him.

Murata smirked. "He's a lot like you," he said, pushing his glasses up with one long finger. "Stubborn and domineering. Powerful and noble. Strong of conviction. And," he added, his dark eyes twinkling. "Sometimes a bit of a softy."

An unexpected blush crept to Wolfram's face. "I guess you heard, then."

"It didn't take long," Murata admitted with a chuckle. "It was all over the castle in a matter of hours. Congratulations, by the way."

"I suppose the ceremony will be soon..." Wolfram murmured, almost to himself. "I should be happy, but I've only been able to think of this." He gestured toward the large portrait hanging in front of them. "Why? Why can't I get it out of my mind?"

Murata crossed his arms over his chest. "Because you're going to be a king."

Wolfram looked up, startled. "Yuuri is the king," he said faintly.

"And in marrying him you will become the next in the line of succession. You will have to assume certain responsibilities." Murata smiled ever so faintly, as if acknowledging some inside joke. "Don't tell me you haven't thought of that."

"Is that what you think I'm after, Murata?" Wolfram demanded, scowling.

The boy laughed quietly. "Not at all. And at the same time, it's all that matters."

Wolfram's eyes narrowed. "I love him," he hissed. "If you doubt me, by all means feel free to test the strength of my convictions." His hand unconsciously moved to grip the hilt of his sword.

"I don't doubt you," Murata said evenly. "On the contrary, I think you're a very fitting match for Yuuri."

Wolfram relaxed a little and looked at the other boy intently. "...You know something," he finally said.

"I know many things. Which one are you referring to?" he asked innocently.

The blonde scoffed, tossing his long bangs back with a shake of his head. "Stop playing around."

Murata smiled and said nothing. After a moment he removed his glasses and put them in his pocket, first folding them carefully. He crossed his arms and gazed levelly at Wolfram. "That was a lovely gem you gave him," he finally said. "A sunstone, I believe?"

"...Yes."

"Tell me, why that particular kind?"

Wolfram looked back at him, flushing slightly. "Actually, because of something you said. That Yuuri is the sun in everyone's lives..." he smiled and shook his head. "I have never known a better person. Even if he is bit hard to look after sometimes."

Murata nodded. "Indeed, his soul shines beyond compare. But you should know something. Wherever there is a light that bright, there is an equally dark shadow lurking beyond it." He looked up, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Is that where I am?" Wolfram asked slowly.

The sage smirked. "No," he said. "That's where I am." The sun had almost completely set, and only a pale orange glow remained in the corridor. Two long shadows twisted away from them and skated across the floor when Murata replaced his glasses and turned to retreat back into the castle. "Your job, Wolfram," he said quietly over his shoulder, "is to protect him from the darkness that is drawn to his brilliance. That is how it was meant to be. Do you understand?"

Wolfram addressed the boy with a solemn expression. "I would die before allowing anything to happen to Yuuri," he swore.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Murata murmured, then put his hands in his pockets and disappeared into the shadows.