Hello to any newcomers and a great big thank you to all who have been keeping up with this fanfic since I first posted it a little over a year ago. I had planned to have the update be on the anniversary of me first posting this fic, but things (i.e. classes, Animarathon...) got in the way. Thankfully, I get out of school next week and don't go back until Mid-August, so things are looking up!

Title: Into the Indefinite Sky
Anime: Kyou Kara Maou
Genre: AU, Angst/Drama, Romance
Pairing: YuurixWolfram
Rating: M-MA (R-NC17)
Chapter: 22 of ?
Warnings: Angst, NCS (referenced/implied), AU, OOC Wolfram, possibly OOC everyone else
Summary:
Wolf had spent his life believing that he was meant for servitude. His master was strict, and often cruel, but he never thought he could be anything more than what he was. One night changes everything and he is thrown into a world that he knows nothing about and given a life he never thought he could have. But a secret he keeps could only throw his life into further turmoil and not to mention the Demon King…

Special Thanks to me last minute Beta: Lena Inverse. (Without her this would not look as nice as it does.)

Chapter 22 – Put to the Test

There was movement on the bed against the far wall, long, nimble fingers digging into the pillows and clenching the sheets, brow of a pale face furrowed and teeth grinding. Soft, hyperventilating breaths escaped, along with what might have once resembled a whimper. The harsh sounds continued to permeate the silence of the room, clashing against the tranquility of the slowly rising sun outside the curtained windows. The figure lying on the bed was suddenly startled awake by the visions in his own mind, his hand going to his chest, and breath trapped in his throat.

Wolf's eyes were wide, nails digging into the skin beneath his thin nightshirt directly over his heart.

It feels like something tried to rip my heart out of my chest, was his first thought. The next was not a thought so much as the surging realization that sent him fumbling through the canopy drapes and off his bed to his washbasin, where he proceeded to relieve himself of the previous night's meal. Spicy apples and beans didn't taste as well coming back up as they did going down. He poured a glass of water from the porcelain pitcher beside the basin, taking a swig to rinse out his mouth and spit into the washbasin. He scowled in distaste when he could still taste film on his teeth.

Turning around, Wolf shuffled tiredly back to his bed and collapsed, not even caring that the blanket and sheets were damp with sweat. He grasped one of his pillows and pulled it to his chest, eyes somewhat dazed.

The dreams had returned. He had been free of them for the past two weeks, but now it seemed as if they were making up for lost time. He could recall very little of the images of his dream, but he could still hear the voices in his mind, the screams and distressed tones making him shiver for reasons other than the clamminess of his skin and dampness of the bed sheets.

/ There were voices. So many were jumbled and speaking at once, urgency in their tones. He could almost see them…fractured faces. Familiar, yet distorted.

Someone was crying, voice choked by pain and exhaustion. Eyes clenched shut only to open in slits. Wrong. They were wrong.

"Do… it…"

"We can't! If we don't wait for a Healer you could…"

"Do it!"

Voices…so familiar…

"…please…"

SCREAMS. Louder, and then crying…wails of a babe he couldn't see…

"The bleeding won't stop…"

"Please...watch…him…" Bloody hands clenched in white. "Please…"

Hands falling, body stilling…

No…this is wrong…it's all wrong… /

He clenched his teeth again, one hand pulling at his hair as he tried to force the dream away. He didn't want to remember it. The sharp pains in his chest that he'd felt upon waking were proof enough that this was one dream it would be best for him to forget. It reminded him far too much of the superstitions that Hilde had preached to him when he had still been a slave.

/ "It's all right, Wolf," she assured him as she ran her hand soothingly through his hair and allowed him to curl against her side. He had only been under Verik's ownership for three months, which was obvious from how he stilled displayed such headstrong behavior. Verik had taken to beating him everyday just to prove him dominion over Wolf, to break him.

Wolf was awakened at dawn and taken out into the yard to be beaten with a thin but sturdy leather whip, and then sent about his daily chores, without the lashes being treated. It was an amazing feat that he hadn't caught an infection. For the first two months, he had fought back and Verik would use more force to subdue him. And then Verik had called in a Houjutsu Master to place the Binding. It was then that everything had changed.

In the last month, Wolf had resolved himself to his new station, accepting his place within the household and his master's right to keep him there. Verik was nothing like Lady Baborone or Master Zanter. He was cruel, uncaring, including with his own family. It was said that his wife had run off with another man, because she couldn't handle his treatment of her anymore, and had taken their son with her. Honestly, Wolf had wondered if Verik had killed both of them in a fit of rage and hidden their bodies. It seemed like something Verik would do, to kill them and then claim to be the victim of an unfaithful wife—only for it to backfire and the blame to be laid on his shoulders for his ill treatment of her.

There were few people who even cared to speak with Wolf or acknowledge him without demanding service – although he was most often quiet and spoke very little as it was – the primary two willing to converse with him being Hilde's young daughters, Solfia and Bethi. They were just children, decades younger than himself – even though he looked barely five years older than the eldest, Solfia – and he found it easier to communicate with them than any of the adults.

The brunette woman tried to care for him as well as she could, but he shied away from her, trying to keep a safe distance. Wolf didn't know how long he would be in Verik's household and he didn't want to become attached. He had learned his lesson with Lady Baborone's death. But this night had been different. He'd awakened screaming into someone's breast, the nightmare distorted images of his brother and mother dead at his feet shaken from him as he realized that someone was holding him. The word "Mother" was a whisper on his lips that died when reality returned to him to within seconds of waking.

But the hands had been so comforting, the usually assertive and stern voice so kind and familiar. He knew it wasn't his mother, but the act of being held by someone after a dark dream, of someone wanting to comfort him…

And so he hadn't pulled away. Instead, Wolf burrowed deeper into her side, accepting her comfort gratefully, even though he didn't try to reciprocate the embrace. He let her comfort him, not sobbing, because he ignored the wetness of his eyes that he knew couldn't possibly have been tears. Hilde hadn't pressured him. She didn't ask him about his dream, or attempt to do more than console him.

"It's okay," she repeated once more. "Nightmares are just a trick of Ghouls, Wolf. When you are most frightened and worn down, they can steal your heart right from your chest and then take possession of your soul. Take control of you. If you awaken and can recall that nightmare, it means that the Ghoul has marked you for another day. It will return to try again. But if you forget the nightmare, push its darkness out of your memory, the spell is broken. The Ghoul holds no power over you."

She then lay of gentle kiss upon his dirty mass of hair. "So just forget about it," Hilde told him, her tone sounding as if her very word was the Message of the Great One. "By forgetting it, you let yourself know that it isn't important." /

Wolf let a small, self-deprecating laugh out into the still silence of his chambers, realizing it had only been a handful of times that he had even thought about the strong Meikan woman that had been like a mother to him for twenty years. How easily you slipped from my mind, he thought. Has my life been so twisted that I forget those who have actually done well by me in my life?

His hand trailed down, as it often absently did, to his still flat stomach. At times, his paranoia told him that he was already beginning to show; that others must be able to see what he thought was as obvious as the dawn on a cloudless day. But he knew that it wasn't possible this soon, with Gisela's assurances that he still had over two months before he would have to think seriously about how to keep his "condition" away from prying eyes.

That is how is has always been. Always something left behind to remind me of the nightmares, so that the good times fade into nothing.

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The day was hideously bright and cheery. Wolf growled under his breath at the insistent throbbing of the migraine that had been with him all morning, only to stop himself once he realized that he had begun to grind him teeth in irritation. Today was just not going well for him. His morning had been ruined the instant he woke up, because he had been unable to get back to sleep after the nightmare.

So instead he had gotten up, dressed, and had an early breakfast. His plan had been to relax for at least an hour before it was time to fulfill his duties—meaning sign documents while a certain pale-haired Mazoku hovered over him—but Günter had also been awake and very happy that Wolf had shown such 'dedication' as to wake up an hour earlier to get more paperwork done. With the mood that Wolf was in, he wondered if it would be wrong to beat the other Mazoku with the thick cauldron used by the chief chef for stews and see if he enjoyed a pain similar to his own migraine.

There was nothing he could do, no protest he could give, and so he had simply followed the silver-haired Mazoku and gotten to work. There was always some work for him to do, but now there was a greater urgency. There was no designated date for the arrival of the ambassador from Dai Shimaron, just a letter that mentioned he would "reach the shores of Shin Makoku" soon. So the only real forewarning they had was that he would be arriving 'soon' and by boat. Günter had already dispatched sentries to keep watch of the three main ports so that they could be informed once the ship docked.

In the end, he had spent an extra two hours—three if you included his early start—signing documents and working with Günter to prepare for the ambassador's arrival. It probably would have been easier if they knew exactly who Dai Shimaron was sending, but no name had been given in the message. There had not even been a hint as to whether it was a man or a woman, although Wolf knew that Dai Shimaron would never send a woman as a goodwill ambassador. Common belief in that kingdom was that women were too emotional and could not maintain the professionalism needed for such a venture. So they knew to expect a man, but they knew absolutely nothing about him.

Günter had been scandalized when Wolf had first told him that all of their preparations were just for show and would do nothing in the end to help their cause. The ambassador's mind would most likely not be one easily swayed. His decision as to whether or not the two countries would go to war or become allies was probably set before he had even stepped onto the boat to bring him to their kingdom.

"Heika would never give in! Never would he choose not to even try! He is completely devoted to bringing all nations together as allies and I, for one, will not disrespect his wishes by being an ungracious host!" His hand had been clutched over his heart as he spoke, as if to keep it from bursting with admiration and devotion right out of his chest. Sometimes, Wolf wondered about Günter and whether or not the man should be sent to live in one of those comfortable cottages by the sea, tended to by servants who knew when to give him a well-laced cup of tea to break his—as Wolf had decided to call them—"Heika" fits. But as of that moment, he needed the Mazoku to help him in his current troubles…preparing for the emissary from Dai Shimaron.

That was why Günter was thankfully no longer in the room while Wolf was finishing up the last of the documents he would be signing for the day. Next, he would be hoping to get a late midday meal and then proceed to his swordsmanship training regimen. As Conrad was no longer available for lessons and practice, he had been forced to repeat the same techniques that he had been learning before their departure to Yuuri's homeland. Of course, this did not do much to improve his skills, because the soldiers were not very willing to spar with him.

The attitudes of the soldiers were something that Wolfram had yet to understand. There were those who treated him kindly and with respect, as one would the Maou's fiancé, and then there were those who only gave him the briefest of acknowledgements. Perhaps they still debated over whether or not he was an imposter out to steal the throne of Shin Makoku from beneath the posterior of their naïve and open-hearted King. Whatever the reason for their behavior, the tension that filled the air when he was around them was enough to detour him from ever requesting to spar with them. Instead, he practiced on his own, much in the same rudimentary way that he had done when first beginning his training. It was more than a little insulting, to take a step back when he had been making such progress, but it was all that he could do for now.

There was a knock at the door and Wolf gave an instantaneous, reflexive call for whoever had disturbed him to enter.

"How's it been, Bouyo?" Wolf looked up, green eyes meeting blue and a wide smile.

"You've just returned, Yosak?"

"Yeah," he nodded as he stepped into the room, hand going to his hip. "But seeing as Gwendal is gone…I have no one to give my report to. So I decided to be the curious kitten and see what everyone has been up to these last few weeks. The castle seems to be a furious hurry about the ambassador's impending arrival."

"His Majesty and Gwendal both left their duties in my hands when they departed," Wolf replied. "If you have information that is prudent to our current situation, it would be best if you released it to me."

Yosak let out a low, impressed whistle. "Do you hear yourself, kid? You really sound like some big shot statesman. What has Günter been doing to you?"

Wolf was not sure whether or not to take the redhead's words as a compliment. He couldn't decipher the smile on the other's face. "Now is not the time for banter," he stated. "The ambassador will be here any day now and if there is anything that you have found out that might affect his stay here…or our reception of him, you have a duty to report it."

Yosak stared at him for a moment, eyes blinking in obvious confusion, before he suddenly let a not-very-well-inhibited snort. Then he was bent over, arms wrapped about his middle as he let out bellows of laughter.

At first Wolf was shocked, but that quickly gave way to anger. He jumped up from his seat, hands slamming down on the paper-strewn desk, and growled, "What it is that you find so amusing, huh?!"

"That you remind me of von Voltaire-kyo!" Yosak huffed out and his laughs calmed and he tried to catch his breath. "Oh Shinou, that serious look on your face! How long have you been practicing that in the mirror?"

"How dare you!" Wolf shouted, eyes glaring at the still amused man standing in the center of his office. "I have enough to deal with right now without having to put up with your flagrant insults! If you've nothing important to report then get out!"

This was not what he expected when the redhead had entered the room, but at the same time he was not sure he was expecting anything more or less either. Yosak was one of the people who he could not read—much like Murata—and while the few times they had been in each other's company, Yosak had treated Wolf like he would someone who was younger—younger, but not a child—he had never treated him as if he was inferior.

Then the laughs were gone, but the amused look did not fade from his face. Instead, the mocking smirk transformed into a smile that confused Wolf more than the half-Mazoku's previous behavior.

"Just making sure you weren't turning into von Voltaire-kyo," he replied. "But my fears have been laid to rest now, so no worries. He would never have gotten angry like you did; instead he would've just glared me into submission. I can see you're not up to that level yet."

Once more, Wolf was not sure whether this was meant as a compliment or an insult.

"So how have you been holding up here, Bouyo?"

Wolf stared at him, taking a few moments to catch up to the shift in behavior. "I'm fine," he told him.

"Seems like you've been spending quite a bit of time locked up in here," the other man pointed out. "Planning on coming out before your arm falls off from signing your name so much?"

Wolf retorted, "I'm almost done for the day. Just this stack left." He pointed next to him to a fairly sizeable pile of parchments that would actually take him another hour at the least to finish. Still, considering how much time he had already spent working on them that was great progress.

Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, dragging him around the wide berth of his desk towards the door. Yosak snatched up his sword, sheath and all, from its place leaning against the desk and dragged him out of the room, ignoring his sounds of shocked protest.

"Wh-Wh-What are you doing?!" he exclaimed. "LET GO!"

"Nope," Yosak spoke, his voice sounding as if he were chiding a small child. "I hear you haven't been sparring with any of the men and I know that Conrad would be very disappointed if he came back to find out that you let your training slack just because you're not good at making friends."

Wolf continued to resist, trying to get the redhead to release him—even as he recognized his words as the very ones he had thought to himself—but to no avail. They passed various servants as Wolf was hauled through the corridors and out into the courtyard. The soldiers that were training on the grounds all seem to turn towards them as Yosak spun Wolf outwards, allowing him to catch his balance before tossing his sword and sheath towards him.

Wolf did rebalance himself easily, only to be jerk backwards when the solid weight of the sword hit him in the chest. He looked at the redhead, who he found to be staring at him, hand on his hip and foot tapping in an expectant manner. Wolf then took a quick scrutiny of the surrounding area, noticing that there were a large number of soldiers gathering around them. Some were staring at him, while others were whispering. When he sparred with Conrad, it was easier to ignore them, because while he often felt inferior—because Conrad was obviously going easy on him, no matter how hard he actually seemed to be pushing him—he knew that just one well placed look from Conrad would send them scurrying back to their posts and their own workout regimens. Did Yosak hold that same sway?

"I know a certain Captain who is going to be very disappointed when he finds out how much everyone loves to slack off when he's not around." The words were given in a light tone, resembling a song a child would make up while playing. But the effect it had on the soldiers was instantaneous.

It seemed that even if Yosak didn't have that same sway, he knew how to use Conrad's even when he wasn't present.

Now that there was a much, much smaller crowd looking on, Wolf didn't feel as if he was on display.

"You need to quit worrying about them, Bouyo," Yosak called to him, his sword already drawn, "and start paying attention to me."

Wolf began to wonder if the redhead would have gone easier on him with everyone else watching.

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Okay...yeah, the chapter is shorter that my usual, but some important things are going on, if you look.