Hasty Demands

3. Stolen

Yuuri groaned and turned around on bed, his arm over his closed eyes, listening to Murata's soft breathing, who was sleeping on the floor next to his bed. The room was dark, and with a frustrated exhale of breath, Yuuri turned to the little night table and hit the digital clock with a lazy gesture of his hand.

4:15 AM.

And still dream eluded him. Twice or thrice he had almost fallen asleep, only to come back fully awake with his heart hammering against his ribcage. He sighed and looked at the slit between the curtains of his bedroom. The night had a heavy smell of rain, the sky closed in cloud-capped blackness. He found himself looking absent mindedly at the gap of sky he could see through the blue curtains.

A sudden solitary lightning crossed the sky. In a blink it was gone, and his heart was racing again. Slowly, Yuuri half rose to sit on his bed, gulped heavily feeling his mouth go cotton dry.

Murata murmured something and rolled, his sheet falling off his shoulder to this side. Yuuri turned to look at him, at the rhythmic rise and fall of the dark silhouette of his body.

Gulping again, Yuuri turned to the window, and waited. The fresh wind came through the window in a drowsy caress. Just when he thought he had imagined the whole thing, and was chastising himself for his absurdity, a second lightning filled the room. Its perfectly white light drawing the same image on Yuuri's brain, using seemingly innocent clouds as a canvass. Yuuri's eyes were wide, his hands gripping tightly the quilt. He jumped off the bed and almost fell down on his haste to put on a pair of jeans while kicking Murata on the way.

"Murata, up!"

Yuuri took his backpack. They had packed their things inside plastic bags and in their backpacks that same day, ready one day on advance to go back to Shin Makoku.

"Wha… Yuuri what's wrong?" Murata squinted his eyes, running a hand through his black hair in confusion. Looking outside the window where a light rain had started to fall, the sound of raindrops softly echoing in the pitch black night.

"We are going back, now up!" Yuuri stooped down, pulling on Murata's sheet "up!"

Murata took a moment to look at Yuuri's distressed state, then nodded and got up, quickly looking around for his jeans and put them on while Yuuri ran outside to leave a note on the kitchen table to his parents. Then took his own bag and went to meet Yuuri at the bathroom door. With a blank expression, he took Yuuri's hand after he had turned on the water to fill the tub.

"Yuuri, we will go back now if that's what you want… But you do realize, I hope, that whatever got you in this state is probably a bad dream?" He said that in a very calm voice, hoping against hope to get some sense into Yuuri's thick skull.

Yuuri gulped, his throat still dry and tried to explain, but he just couldn't put it into words, his throat would close in fear.

"No time, get in the water" he said, in the most commanding voice he could muster.

Murata got in the tub, water just under his knees and Yuuri jumped behind him, splashing water all over the bathroom floor.

Yuuri closed his eyes holding his breath, and concentrated. He focused his mind on the thought "travel", his whole being resonating with the familiar direction. It was like rising a feet after the other to walk, it was conscious and unconscious. His whole brain knew what and how to do it, even if he couldn't quite point out what his body did. Travel. Home.

"Fuck!" shouted Yuuri when something pushed him hard on the chest with such force he staggered and fell down, his feet sliding across the tub under Murata who gasped in surprise and fell on top of him. For a second Yuuri was completely under the water, Murata's weight all over him, pinning him down. Yuuri opened his eyes to a blurry confusing world, his nostrils and ears full of water, and a distant voice that traveled dimensions with a single word for a message:

No.

"Yes" hissed Wolfram, his arms crossed against his chest. His uniform was dusty and sweaty, there were dark marks under his eyes, and even though the soldier in front of him was on his same height, he looked smaller under Wolfram's hard gaze.

"That's a direct order soldier, now do it, and better make sure I do not break through"

The brown haired soldier called Alex nodded, closing his eyes and concentrating hard. This was his third and last chance today to create a perfectly circular wall of fire around them. The point of the exercise was to be able to protect yourself in case you were outnumbered, and a few soldiers had done very well. Earth walls have rose, fire circles had been created, fierce tornadoes had come to life, tall water columns have been summoned, and yet not a single one had been powerful enough to encounter Wolfram's fire lion, whom had broken through mightily, roaring and closing its jaws centimeters away from all those shocked soldiers' faces.

Wind rose around swiftly, a being of 'hot' running impossibly fast around them in a circle, Alex whispered "…fire, obey this mazoku…" and the air erupted in living fire, the temperature rising progressively till breathing became difficult.

Wolfram felt his jacket flapping with the hot wind around them, the fire licking his legs and arms, a grin working its way on his face. His body was tired after doing this same exercise with twenty eight of his soldiers today, but his spirit fed on this. This soldier's magic thrummed around them, and still it was not hot enough, not nearly enough. Oh, but Wolfram would teach him how hot fire could really be.

Giving Alex a minute to stabilize and take full control of his wall, Wolfram took two fingers to his temple, his emerald gaze steady on the soldier, and invoked his own maryoku.

With a grave low snarl that made the earth under them vibrate, an enormous lion made of bright red fire came to existence; Wolfram felt its forming shape like a tug on his gut, an invisible pulsating line connecting them. The lion mimicked Wolfram's grin and the soldiers outside the fire wall drew all a few steps back. It looked vicious.

The soldier inside of the fire wall looked into Wolfram's green eyes and held his breath, mesmerized by his tousled blonde hair, his now flushed cheeks. Alex could sense Wolfram's maryoku like a presence wrapping itself around his lithe body, powerful and alluring at the same time. He took a wavering step forward, the wall flickered.

Wolfram sensed it and suddenly his gaze became cold. He knew what the soldier was looking at, he was aware most of his soldiers were more or less in awe of him, but this was not the time nor place to get distracted.

"Focus soldier" snarled Wolfram, and with a jerk of his wrist the lion roared. Made of fire, with no vocal cords, that roar was the sound of clashing magic being released. The lion ran against the wall, leaving ashen prints on the ground behind him.

Temperature rose dramatically, steam rising around and outside the fire wall. Wolfram had to resist the urge to howl in laughter, it felt so good to let that part of himself out.

Alex jolted back rising both his palms up just in time to solidify maryoku and with a CRASH! The lion banged into it. Wolfram gasped, and actually staggered on his feet. The fire lion had been thrown back, the wall shivered but stood. After a moment's confusion, the lion started to prowl around.

Outside soldiers were cheering. It was the first time in months that someone could stop the first attack of their captain.

Alex inside the fire wall was not celebrating, that had taken most of his force and now he was fully aware of the lion prowling around. He could sense Wolfram's magic looking for a slit, a crack. He could sense it like a caress on his own magic, as his wall was being inspected. Two seconds went by and no blemish could be found, so the lion took a few steps back. Wolfram rose his hand, yanked his wrist and the lion charged again. This time it jumped, and when it was just about to crash again, Wolfram willed raw power into it. The lion roared and its flaming body turned a bright sapphire blue, hotter yet, and the fire wall never stood a chance. Wolfram could hear it cracking, breaking down, extinguished into submission by a bigger force in the form of a lion that came prowling and stood next to Wolfram.

Wolfram opened his bright fevered eyes and saw the soldier on his knees, breathing heavily with a hand on his chest. He walked closer and reaching down helped him up, feeling him cold to the touch.

"You held your ground, you should be proud" he said with raw voice, and cleared his throat and smiled.

The soldier smiled faintly "Thank you sir"

"As a reward you shall be spared tomorrow's nights patrol duty, now go see sergeant Gisela for some restorative potion"

The soldier beamed through his tiredness and blackened uniform, and left to see Gisela, receiving some pats on the back from his companions.

After that, Wolfram called practice off and sent them to rest before taking in the duties for the night.

He made himself walk back to the Castle, to the royal bathroom that only Yuuri and he could use, and took a bath that seemed to drain what energy he had left. Once in the white marbled bathroom, he took his dirty clothes off and with a content sigh, submerged half his body slowly into the warm water. He had to force his eyes open once he was sitting that way… after today's practice he felt he could sleep for a week. But he was satisfied, his soldiers were improving their skills, and he felt very proud of them.

The practices were getting much more challenging for them too, and it felt good to push them. To force them to find new, faster ways to respond, to attack, to protect themselves and those with them.

Neither of those soldiers were a match for Wolfram, not really, but those practices felt good for him too. It was almost like a real fight, and in the last couple weeks Wolfram had felt that hunger grow in him. The hunger to prove himself in an actual battle, to give his all and push himself. While running a sponge over his body Wolfram realized that his last actual battle had been against Yuuri himself. Probably one of the few mazokus who could actually outstand him. It had been a vicious fight; no one could restrain him like Yuuri could when he was in Mao form. Wolfram's mind revived those memories clearly: Yuuri's intense gaze fixed on him and only him, his energy wrapping around him like a cold pressure. Yuuri's magic during a duel was everywhere, up and down, outside and between them, and there was little Wolfram could do to distance himself from it. Yuuri would just will it, without moving a single muscle, and fierce royal blue dragons of water would materialize and wrap around Wolfram tightly, like a second skin. No room for air, no room for his own maryoku to manifest, it was a physically bone crushing force that would take the air out of his lungs. But Wolfram was proud, and would fight back till the last moment, till he lost consciousness. Wolfram lived for those moments, the time of the actual combat was what put Wolfram's blood on fire. To push Yuuri back, to fight for control…

Wolfram's body hair stood up in anticipation at the thought, and his hand fell down on the water, sponge forgotten in behalf of a far more enjoyable notion. Closing his eyes, he leant down on the water, the image of those sharp, piercing black eyes clear on his mind. For a moment it was as if Yuuri was there with him, his strong arms holding him down.

Wolfram realized he felt somewhat guilty for thinking of Yuuri that way, but definitely not guilty enough to stop. In Wolfram's mind, Yuuri would lean over him, and put his strong hands on Wolfram's hips, his mouth drawing a path between his neck to his lips, before finally claiming his lips on a searching all-consuming kiss.

Wolfram sighed deeply at the thought, his skin heating up quickly, and let his hand run down his muscled torso, to take hold of his manhood with his callused fingers. It was a guilty pleasure to imagine it was actually Yuuri's hand moving up and down on him, working to bring him to climax. A low moan escaped his lips and a crash thundered on the bathroom walls.

Wolfram's eyes flew open, and startled looked back where there was a serving boy, flushed to the roots of his blonde hair, who was picking up a silver tray. He put a now wet yellow envelope over the tray still stammering how sorry he was to interrupt, and a dozen other different apologies. Among all the stammering and apologies, Wolfram could make out that the letter was for him and it was supposed to be urgent, that's why he had dared to interrupt him in the bathroom.

Wolfram thought that didn't explain why he had not made himself known earlier, but by now he was blushing himself and wanted to end this ridiculous circus. He told the boy off for not knocking on the door and sent him off, which the boy did in a second, running away and closing the door to the chambers behind him.

Wolfram took a towel and wrapped it around his waist, closing his eyes and throwing his head back for a moment, thinking it was so ironically typical that he couldn't have Yuuri, not even in his own imaginary world.

With a frustrated sigh, took the thrice damned envelope and walked inside the royal chamber to get dressed.

Wolfram was for once on time to have dinner with the rest of the nobles in the castle. He had tried to make it for dinner more often for Conrad's sake. It was a way to take him off his back too.

Greta was already there, drinking something when he entered the dinner hall, and she hastily put it down.

"Hi papa!" she said a bit too quick, a bit too suspiciously.

Wolfram half smiled and walked closer behind her chair, to place a kiss on Greta's head and take the cup away, to take a sip.

"Who agreed to serve you wine Greta?" he asked mildly.

She had the grace to blush. Wearing a sky blue dress, and her hair tied up with a ribbon the same color, she looked as cute as a button, thought Wolfram, who couldn't find it in himself to be upset for the wine, but for a completely different reason. Greta was growing up so fast. So humanly fast. It was distressing to see her grow, she was not quite a lady yet, but she was on her way. It was perfectly normal for her to be curious about wine, he supposed, he had been too, years and years ago.

For a moment the hunting idea that Greta would grow old and die before he would reach half his life span clutched his heart. But just as quickly he pushed it to the back of his mind, like he always did, because nothing good would come from dwelling on it. Greta was human, the most beautiful human he had met. She was precious to him. Keeping his voice steady, he put a hand on her thin shoulder.

"You may keep it, but do not hide it from me, and only drink it when Yuuri or I are with you".

She nodded, as surprised as she felt pleased.

Not long after Conrad walked in, looking pale and worried, so different from his usual self that Wolfram knew there was something going very wrong, to put this sensible, prudent man out of sorts like this.

"Uncle Conrad?" asked Greta startled, standing up and walking next to her uncle, taking his hand "What happened? Are you feeling ill?"

Conrad smiled on her behalf, but it was strained and somehow made him look worse. He looked at Wolfram and any ghost of a smile, faked or real, was gone.

"Wolfram we need to talk with Gwendal"

Greta frowned and pulled on Conrad's sleeve "Tell me what is wrong, I want to know, is it dad?"

"Yuuri is perfectly fine on Earth, you know that Greta. We need to talk to Wolfram, this is not something you should worry about" said Conrad.

"But you look scared and…"

"Greta" said Wolfram with his 'dad' voice "Do not press the issue, have dinner and we shall talk later" he took a moment to kiss Greta on her forehead, then exchanged a look with Conrad and both left the dining room, leaving an upset sulking Greta behind.

It took them less than a minute to arrive to Gwendal's office, just at the same time a soldier was going out, who saluted them in a hurry before walking away in a haste.

When they entered, Gwendal was sending a carrier pigeon through the window, the white bird taking off towards the slowly darkening sky. When he turned, Wolfram could see there was real worry on those stark blue eyes.

"Just sent word to look out for her. Every state across the realm will send a search party on their land, we know where she was when we lost contact and…"

Gwendal went on and on, while Conrad took a seat in front of his desk and listened intently while running a hand through his disheveled brown air, nodding every once in a while.

It took Wolfram a moment to realize what they were talking about. Just a heart-frozen second to grasps the magnitude of it.

While Gwendal displayed a map over the desk, signaling key points with red stones, Wolfram sat on the chair next to Conrad, feeling numbness taking over his legs. He saw a copy of the letter he had received earlier –the letter he had left unread on his haste to dress up and get on time for dinner after the embarrassing episode on the bathroom. This copy of the letter was open already though, and sentences like "long persecution…", "belongings left behind…", "on her way to Bielefeld…", "Just two survivors" kept jumping like red bright lights.

"Are you listening Wolfram?" asked Gwendal with a stern voice.

Wolfram nodded, tried to speak and failed, his mouth suddenly dry, and after clearing his throat he tried again "yes brother".

Gwendal looked at him and for a moment he was not a soldier, but a brother and nodded back. Conrad put a hand on Wolfram's shoulder "We will find her".

And Wolfram nodded again, speechless, a single thought screaming in his mind.

Mother has been taken.