So here we are in chapter three—and yes, Virginia, there is dreaming and kissing. I have to say, I'm really beginning to have fun with this story, because as one very savvy reviewer noted, this could have been easily handled with a conversation—but you know I can't make it that easy. It's the drama afterwards that always appeals to me…mwahahahaha. I'm tired so I will keep this note short, but I hope you enjoy it, and for your lovely and thoughtful reviews, I thank you most sincerely. So, to recap—Gunter's in trouble, Yuuri's in love, Wolfram is pissed, Yozak is cheerful, Conrad is torn, and…I don't own the damned KKM. See you all at the bottom of the page…
Addendum: This one is just FULL of mistakes. I'm fixing grammar and spelling now. Apologies. SN
The Twelfth Treasure of Shin Makoku – A Fairy Tale
…A king on his throne, it is said, will send his armies to face the dangers that he, himself, will not dare to face. This could not be said of the handsome demon-king. The threat of wicked creatures, personal hardship, even death would not deter him from his quest. He searched with diligence, stopping as often as could be tolerated to question other travelers. Inquiring after his lost demon lord, the king spoke with the masters of public houses, the maids hanging out the wash on the lines to dry, even children playing in the streets of the villages through which he passed. No one, however, had a word of encouragement or hope for the young king, but even this did not deter him. His heart, it seemed, pulled him relentlessly forward, setting him on the trail of his missing courtier. He suffered through indignities and embarrassments, counting them as nothing—his entire being focused solely on his lost lord. His traveling companions at his side, the king pressed his horse to an unholy pace. Time, his heart whispered to him, was running short.
As the long night passed with infinite slowness, the beautiful demon lord continued his battle against the creatures of the night. Wounded and fatigued, the gentle-spirited scholar and magician refused to succumb to the minions of darkness. Remembering that at one time, he had been more than he now appeared, and using his last burst of strength…the beautiful demon lord made one final stand against the monsters set before him—the name of the demon-king the last syllables to pass his lips before gripping his sword and leaping back into the fray…
Part Three: When Faced with Danger, the Poet Lays Aside the Pen for the Sword
To love someone deeply gives you strength. Being loved by someone deeply gives you courage—Lao Tzu
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous—Ingrid Bergman
I've found men who didn't know how to kiss. I've always found time to teach them—Mae West
Gunter Von Kleist woke from his restless sleep with a start. The lingering feeling of attraction and seduction made him close his eyes in frustration. Why would he have such a dream about his heika? He supposed it was natural considering the way in which he'd parted from the young Maou, but even his most erotic dreams about the king, and yes, of course, he'd had them for years, hadn't seemed quite that realistic. In his previous imaginings, the quality of the visions was very different—like the way their clothes were on, then suddenly off. No conversation, no unbuttoning of garments, nothing like that. They were…for want of a better term…normal, sexy dreams. This had felt like something…remembered. He shook his head, trying to clear his foggy brain. That couldn't be the case, however. He knew that all too well, and yet…yet…Yuuri had smelled so real. The scent of the Maou remained fresh in his mind as well as his nose—the sweet, musky scent of the younger man that had—always—sent small ripples of desire through Gunter's stomach. He stirred, aware that his body was still in the throes of unquenched desire. His mouth quirked into a frown, but his sigh was resigned. He'd grown accustomed to waking up aroused and wanting when he'd lived in Blood Pledge Castle, close to Yuuri-heika. He supposed it was too much to ask that in his first days away from the king that his body would cease this embarrassing and altogether too predictable reaction to the very thought of the Maou. Ah, well…a bath in a cold stream would do wonders for cooling his overheated senses.
It didn't take long for Gunter to pack up his small camp and check on his horse. For a few moments, he considered riding to the east toward his ancestral lands, but in the end he decided against it. He was certain he would wind up there in the end, but he was not quite ready to admit to himself that he was truly in exile. If he continued to journey, he could tell himself that he was merely a traveler—someone on an excursion to see the sights of Shin Makoku. It was true that he made such journeys yearly, but that had been in his capacity as adjutant to the Maou. Now, he was a mazoku without a vocation, or plan. So, he turned his face to the west. To travel in that direction would no doubt remind him of Yuuri-heika, but there was no where he could go that he would not, in some way, be tied to the young man he loved.
So, to the West, he decided and turned his mount in that direction. As the day wore on, his thoughts returned continually to the Maou. Every time he noted the position of the sun, his thoughts strayed back to the castle. For example, at noon, when he stopped to water his horse, he sighed, thinking that at this particular time, he would be lunching with Yuuri-heika, and then, provided there were no interruptions, there would be lessons—at least two glorious hours where it was just the two of them. At tea-time, when he stopped again to take some jerky from his saddlebag, he thought about the comfortable sofa in the Maou's office, where he would sit, conversing with the king as the young man sat beside him. Yuuri-heika took his tea with two sugars and so much milk that it really was simply milk with a dash of tea. He spilled it, every time, in his haste to explain some anecdote, or relate some tale. Gunter loved the Maou's stories, and the sentimental part of him found the dark, teardrop shaped stains on the carpet in front of that sofa endearing. Each one represented a story, a thought, or a gesture. And Gunter remembered them all.
Before Yuuri-heika had come into his life, Gunter Von Kleist had anticipated his arrival. It was true, of course, that he'd known the young woman—Julia Von Wincott—whose soul would be delivered to the new maou. His own daughter, Gisela, had been very close to the young noblewoman, both women sharing a passion for life and healing. He had thought, when he first met Yuuri-heika, that he would see the reflection of Adelbert Von Grantz's fiancée and Conrad Weller's silent love. He supposed he did, after a fashion, but the young man who appeared in Shin Makoku—Shibuya Yuuri—was more than anyone had expected. Gunter had never been able to see the Maou as the simple copy of another who'd come before. The Maou had always been his own, unique and exceptional individual.
Of course the king had been handsome, his flashing black eyes and hair setting him apart from every other nobleman of Gunter's acquaintance. But, it was not his attractive face or graceful features that caused the older mazoku to fall instantly in love with him. It had been that tremulous smile—that hopeful, uncertain, frightened-yet-brave expression that had spoken directly to Gunter's shuttered and closed heart. And, even though he had been prepared to serve the king, guide and nurture the boy into the sort of ruler who could bring a new era to Shin Makoku—he hadn't intended to fall so deeply in love with him. His heart ached to think about that first night—that first horrible altercation between the new Maou and Wolfram Von Bielefeld. When the king, unwitting though it may have been, slapped the young prince, Gunter felt something he hadn't felt in many decades—a complete sense of rage. No! Such an action was…unthinkable. He had experienced jealousy, anger, heartache, and sorrow in such quick succession that he'd been helpless to do anything to prevent the situation from spiraling out of control as it had. He remembered that all he could think was No, No, No! That action was meant for another—not for Wolfram. But he had done his part, as was expected, and endured years of watching the king struggle with a relationship that was not meant to be. Unrequited love. It should have appealed to his poetic nature. As a living, breathing, hot-blooded Mazoku, however, he found the reality a bitter pill to swallow. So, he had begun to live for the Maou's happiness, trying to help the young man find it in any number of ways, since he was clearly not thrilled with his fiancé. This course of thinking brought him back around to the gifts he'd given Yuuri-heika, the rejected gifts, and he felt his heart break all over again.
Before he realized that Yuuri-heika thought so little of his gifts and therefore himself, Gunter never hoped to have a place in the romantic thoughts of his king. The young ruler saw him, he thought, as a dramatic, if somewhat helpful advisor. He had always believed he was important to the king in some fashion, especially in these past several years. Gunter thought that after the seeming betrayal of Conrad, that he and the king had cemented a close relationship. The long talks, the walks, the hours spent in study, however, clearly meant something only to him. He had no doubt that the king respected him as an older, wiser tutor—but even if he could not have the king's love, Gunter had been more than willing to settle for friendship. It was rare for him to so severely misjudge a situation, but he had been wrong before and it would probably happen again. He had taken a chance and poured all his love, of which he held an immense amount, and care into a one-sided relationship, and it had yielded him nothing more or less than a heart torn asunder. Well, he'd no doubt earned what he'd deserved.
His thoughts continued in this conflicting, convoluted manner until nightfall. The sensation of being watched pricked along his spine, bringing an abrupt halt to his self-recriminations. Yes, he was definitely being watched, followed, and by more than one being—with ill intent. Gunter could feel the malice rolling toward him in waves. He sought in his mind, searching through the vast store of knowledge he'd accumulated over centuries of life, seeking a pattern or spark that would trigger a memory. He knew, in his bones, that he'd felt this energy before, but he couldn't remember when. Even though he was alert to the danger now surrounding him and expected an attack, the first black shadow that separated itself from the tree-line and raced toward him, caused him to gasp in shock. The shape moved so fast, almost faster than his eye could track—and within an instant, his mount's terrified whinny was cut-off, silenced by the claws that extended and tore through the animal's throat.
Gunter leapt from the horse's back before the animal hit the ground, turning in the air and drawing his sword. The starlight from the night sky glinted off the edge of his blade, showing the deadly blade. He twisted again, slashing at the shadow that had recovered its form and barreled toward him. As the inky, black creature evaporated, leaving a thick, fetid odor behind, Gunter heard a rough, growling voice call out to him from the trees.
"A little lord Von Kleist, you've come out to play without your master's protection. I've waited for ages to taste your flesh again…you were so sweet when you were a boy…I wonder if you still are."
That voice was all it took. Gunter's memory immediately threw up a picture—his father fighting with all his strength, and his screams as he died, along with Gunter's older brother and sister, too. His lips thinned, compressing into a tight line. There was no way this could be happening, not now. There should have been no way for the creatures to track him. The scar on the back of his right calf—the one he'd not thought of in years came to his mind. The strange half-circle of marred flesh. How long had it been since he thought about that night, and the wound, the bite-mark that he carried. His first battle-scar.
"I'm not the same child you once hunted," Gunter said, taking up a defensive position, moving slightly to the left so that his back would be protected by the sharp slope of the river bank. It was his only chance to keep his attackers from flanking him. He didn't know how many there were, but the inherent cowardice of his foe dictated that there must be more than ten. The number didn't matter, however, because they would all die…one at a time.
"No, you're a bitch full grown," the thick voice taunted. "Last I heard, you were on your knees for the new Maou. What happened? Did the boy decide he wanted better than a freak like you?"
Gunter didn't answer, though he felt the sting of the insult. He hated that term—freak. He'd heard it often enough when he'd been a child, with his beauty, his magic, and his…volatile temper. For a moment, he almost felt that way again, but he was a grown mazoku now, and he'd been through enough that he was above a little trash talk.
"So, did you just come here to talk," he said, turning his sword in his hand and flipping his hair over his shoulder in a mock gesture of boredom. "Or are you finally going to show some backbone and come for me? There's always the option of retreat…if you're afraid."
The roar of anger that followed his statement made the very trees shake.
"It will take more than bad breath to impress me," Gunter said, his laugh dark and bitter.
"The only backbone showing will be yours—when I rip it out of your body," the voice cried, ending in a guttural snarl.
That was the cue, it seemed. The former adjutant and tutor to the king watched while at least fifteen shadow beasts exploded from the surrounding trees. As time slowed, and he prepared for the attack, the beautiful demon lord spared no time for regret. Hefting his sword, and raising his left hand in an open-palm gesture, to summon the winds at his command, Gunter Von Kleist unleashed his rage.
--O.o.O—
Yozak Gurrier watched the interaction between his young master and the taichou with interest as their journey progressed. Since he'd known the Maou, the boy had always looked up to the captain with an affectionate hero-worship that bordered on idealization. That hadn't seemed to change as the years passed, but this was the first time that Yozak had traveled with them in over a year and he was surprised to see that Yuuri-heika had matured, his treatment of his loyal knight becoming more like that between equals. If he was pressed, the spy would have said that he was glad to see it.
The trip began with a sense of hopeful anticipation, the Maou speaking from time to time about his excitement at the prospect of bringing home one absent, and very much missed nobleman. However, as the morning turned to afternoon and then toward dusk, the king's patience seemed to wear thin. No one that they spoke to could give a definite answer as to whether or not Lord Von Kleist had been seen in the area. In fact, the general ignorance of the man led Yozak to believe that there was more than coincidence at work. He suspected that the quiet, easily dismissed adjutant had been using a spell of some kind to fiddle with the memories of the people he probably encountered.
That was the trouble with big-time magic users, he grumbled to himself. They had both brains and gifts—and a shocking propensity for using both. The more he thought about it, the more he began to take it personally. He was well-known as the best tracker in Shin Makoku and the idea that someone might be able to elude him, well, that grated on him worse than wearing polka dots with stripes.
"Taichou, Heika," he said, finally coming out of his thoughts. "I have an idea."
"What's that?" the king asked.
"Well, it looks like His Excellency has done almost too good a job covering his tracks, if you know what I mean. I know you have impressions, kiddo, ideas as to where he has been—and I don't question those, but…I think if we inquire indirectly about him, as opposed to directly, then we may have better luck."
"What do you mean, Yozak?" Conrad asked.
"Well, instead of asking the next village headman if he's seen Gunter-sama outright, I think we should ask things like—have you had any bread go unaccounted for—things like that. They might not remember him, but someone miscounting food or grain…they may not be able to explain it, but, it might be a way to track him."
"You mean…ask about him by not asking about him?"
"Exactly, kiddo."
"I think it's a good idea. How about you, Heika?"
"It's Yuuri, Nazukeoya. Maybe I should tattoo it on your butt. And, yeah, I think it's a good idea."
Yozak laughed outright. "On his ass, Kiddo? How would he ever see it then?"
"I don't know," the king said, staring at something in his hand. The boy had been rummaging around in a sack he had tied near the front of his saddle off and on the entire day. "I suppose you could always read it for him…when he forgets."
Yozak nearly fell off his horse. He glanced at Conrad who'd gone completely pale. How had the king known…?
The Maou glanced up from his perusal and grinned. "What? You two thought it was a secret or something? You've got to be kidding me!"
For the first time in his long life, Yozak was speechless. How did you answer your king when he'd just called you out for having an affair with his personal protector? He thought about trying to explain that being lovers was something he and Conrad fell into and out of again as the years rolled by. There was no romantic commitment between them, but there was affection, even love. It was just more, and less, than you might feel with someone you intend to marry.
"Yuuri," Conrad choked out in a strangled whisper. The Taichou cleared his throat and tried again. "Yuuri, Yozak and I…"
The boy's smile was friendly and engaging. "You're lovers, Conrad. You probably have been for ages. I'm not upset—why do you look…scared?"
"I thought you would be...angry."
Yozak watched the two men, choosing silence as his best and only option in the situation.
"I think you were afraid I'd be jealous and throw a fit or something." The king's smile was softer now, sweeter. "I'm not Wolfram, Conrad, so stop worrying. I love you both, and you're important to me. I'm glad you're happy, and that you're together if it makes you both happy. I did have a crush on you, for a long time—and Yozak knows it, even if you didn't. Eh?"
"Sure, kiddo," the spy said, realizing the Maou was waiting for his answer. And it was true. Yuuri-heika's feelings for Conrad were more than evident when he'd first come to Shin Makoku.
"Yuuri, I—"
"Oh, Conrad, don't be so serious," the Maou said. "We just talked yesterday, remember? Didn't we promise that we'd always be together, that we'd never lose each other again?"
"Yes, Yuuri," Conrad's voice was strong again, sure. "And I meant every word."
"Then why would you ever think that I would be unhappy because you've found someone to…love…"
The young man's voice drifted off, and his eyes took on a faraway expression. Yozak knew better than to interrupt, since the king was obviously having a private epiphany. Chancing a glance at the Taichou, Yozak was surprised, and to be honest, a little hurt to see the sad, longing expression on his lover's face as he looked at the king. He took a deep breath. He was a big boy, and he had always known where the vast majority of Conrad's heart was anchored. Still, it stung a bit to see the evidence spread plain before him—all written clearly on the captain's expressive face. He had been putting on a very good show of being the Maou's godfather, of wishing him well and encouraging him to grow up, but Yozak could see that the affection Yuuri-heika once held for the captain was not, as he had assumed, one-sided. His lover, captain, and friend was in love with the king. Ah, Shinou, what a muddle! As for the Maou, he missed the brief, open expression of heart break and desire on his knight's face—he was clearly directed inwards and, Yozak suspected, coming to terms with his own feelings for a certain lavender-haired mazoku.
The king gasped suddenly and reached back into his bag. "Yozak, look at this…do you recognize it?"
The spy urged his horse to move a bit faster, pulling alongside the king. He took the small miniature from the boy's hand and looked at it carefully. "Sure, heika. That's Bandarbia Island. I actually remember this, well, I remember Gunter-sama working on it at any rate. It was right after we came back with Morgif. Did he show you how it worked?"
"What do you mean?" The king looked confused. "I thought it was a painting."
Yozak shook his head. "There should be a mirror piece…"
"I have that!" The Maou exclaimed, reaching back into his bag. He handed the mirror over.
"Ah, right. So, all you have to do, when you hold the mirror up to the painting, is watch the mirror." Yozak held it for a minute, saw what he was looking for, then passed both items back to the king. "Here, look."
Yuuri-heika carefully dropped his reins, and Yozak stayed nearby, even though Ao was a perfectly sound animal. Holding the miniature up at an angle, and then the mirror, the young man studied the glass. His look of wonder and resulting exclamation of surprise made the tall, handsome spy smile. Reflected in the mirror was a tiny replica of the boat the Maou had used to row into the cave and retrieve his demon sword.
"Morgif!" The king exclaimed. "This is a picture of me going to get you. I can see a tiny little me in the boat."
"If you wait long enough," Yozak explained, "you'll see yourself come out again, with Morgif."
The demon sword moaned in approval and the young man's eyes became very bright. "How could he have done that?"
"It's a special technique, Yuuri," Conrad explained. "I didn't realize it when you showed me the presents earlier, because they weren't together, I guess. Very few artists can achieve those results today, but there are still several working. Gunter is well known for his artistic abilities. Have you never looked in the mirror across the hall from my mother's portrait?"
The Maou shook his head. "I've always sort of avoided that picture. Your mother is a little…"
"I know, believe me," Conrad said, smiling. "But if you do, you will see that the portrait changes to show her coronation scene. It is a clever piece."
"Did Gunter paint that one as well?"
"No, it was painted by the master artist who taught Gunter, though."
"I'll be sure to look when we get back. And you know what this means, it means I have part of the order now. First, the book, then the acorn, now the painting and the mirror—the knot comes last. That's five of the eleven. I'm getting closer."
Yozak let his mount drop behind, preferring to keep an eye on the rear of the trail as they journeyed. By use of his new plan, they were able to ascertain in the next village that Gunter had, indeed, stopped there. However, when they reached a crossroads two miles outside of the town limits, they paused, debating which way to go. It was the Maou, finally, who turned to him and said suddenly, "Northwest."
"I'm sorry, Kiddo?"
"Northwest," the young man repeated, his voice sure and firm. "Gunter went north from here, but has since turned west. I don't know why I know. I just do."
Yozak shared a look with his captain. If Yuuri was certain, he supposed there was nothing else they could do. Conrad's silent nod indicated he was in agreement. So, Yozak took the lead this time, allowing Conrad to fall to the rear. He set a pace across the rolling fields of Shin Makoku, keeping near to the Greyfelde River and heading steadily in a northwest direction. As dusk deepened and headed toward night, Conrad called a halt to their progress and the two older men set up a camp near the river, with a good view from all sides. Yozak was pleased that there was a nice stand of trees to shelter them, and thankful that there was no sign of rain.
"Yuuri, you have to be exhausted, won't you please rest?" Conrad had asked after they'd eaten and night was beginning her long reign.
"I am tired," the Maou agreed, and excusing himself, crawled into the tent Yozak had set up for him.
The spy waited until the shuffling sounds coming from inside the tent quieted before turning to his companion.
"I'm sorry, Yozak," Conrad began, but the orange-haired man silenced him with a finger over his lips.
"Don't be sorry, Taichou. It's not like I didn't consider the possibility. I was just surprised. It doesn't change the way I feel."
Conrad's eyes darkened and his smile turned sad. "I really had been handling it very well. Even Gwendal said so."
"We all do the best we can."
"I feel like a heel."
"A heel?" Yozak cocked his head. "You feel like your foot?"
His captain scuffed his boot on the ground to draw attention to the sole.
"Oh, you mean you feel low, eh?"
"Yeah, it's an earth phrase."
"Conrad," Yozak said seriously, taking his lover's hand. "Our lives have always been…complicated. If you want to end things between us, again, I understand."
"No!" the captain huffed out. "I didn't mean that. I just don't want you thinking that…"
"I'm the king's stand-in?" the spy finished, grinning. His heart warming a little when the taichou didn't take him up on the offer to split up.
"Something like that. I can't help how I feel about him, but…you've been with me forever, and even though we aren't…always lovers, well, I love you all the same."
"I know that. We have history."
"That we do."
"Why don't we just take it one day at a time, eh, Conrad? The way we always have?"
The taichou nodded, his smile returning. "I'll take the first watch, then, ok?"
"Good," Yozak said, sauntering toward the second tent. "You can wake me up when it's my turn…just do it the way I like it."
The tall, sexy captain's grin was decidedly impish. "You can count on it."
Yozak winked, then disappeared inside the tent. Complicated, he'd said? Yeah, that was for sure. But, then, when was life ever uncomplicated?
--O.o.O—
Yuuri hadn't wanted to seem too anxious to go to bed while he was eating with Yozak and Conrad, but in truth, he'd been itching to get some time alone. He took out the little bottle of Gunter's potion, unwrapped it from its protective bindings, and hurried to tip out a good fifteen drops. Somehow, he had known that Gunter had turned to the west and he suspected it had something to do with the fact that he had connected to his missing adjutant the night before in his dreams. Now, even though he was sure they would find him, Yuuri wanted nothing more than to see Gunter again. He thought, at first, that he would be too nervous to fall asleep, but the day's travel had taken its toll, and his eyelids were heavy even before he laid his head down on his folded robe that served as his makeshift pillow.
…He was walking through the field again, about to crest the hill that would reveal the baseball diamond. His heart thundering with an anticipation that had nothing to do with his desire to see home again, Yuuri noticed that the sky wasn't quite blue, every so often, it slipped, like a hologram, and showed a deep, dark purple. The air was warm, but there didn't seem to be the same sense of peace he'd felt when he'd come here before. Concerned, Yuuri broke into a sprint, running full-tilt across the playing field, all his energy focused on the tall, pale-haired man who was standing, still shackled and bound, near home plate. He skidded to a stop, bumping against Gunter's hip. The tall man reached out and spared him the indignity of bouncing backwards and landing on his rump by encircling his waist with an arm. He was dressed as he had been before, only this time there was no shirt. Yuuri found himself, then, cheek to shoulder with more of Gunter's bare skin than he could fully comprehend…he just knew the man was warm, smelled enticing, and looked devastatingly sexy.
"Heika, why have you come here?" Gunter asked, his voice still calm but holding notes of both surprise and sadness.
"I want to see you, Gunter. I miss you." Yuuri answered honestly.
"Oh, Heika," Gunter whispered very softly, still not looking at him. "I don't suppose I could convince you to leave now that you're here?"
"Absolutely not!" Yuuri exclaimed. "I'm never going to leave you, Gunter!"
The thick chain binding the taller mazoku's waist sprang open and fell to Yuuri's feet. He jumped back to avoid the heavy metal falling on his toes.
"That's interesting," Gunter murmured, moving his eyes from the horizon line only long enough to glance at the chain. "I wonder why it chose now to come undone. Probably because I've wanted to hear those words from you for a very long time."
"What? I don't understand," Yuuri said, trying to gain the tall man's attention, but his gaze was riveted to the tree-line at the side of left field…wait…tree-line? There hadn't been a tree-line before. Ah, well. It was a dream, right, and things change in dreams.
"No time to explain." Gunter looked at Yuuri, finally, his eyes dark and wild looking. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course, Gunter," Yuuri said, trying to reach a hand up to cup the beautiful man's cheek.
His former tutor's lips thinned and he captured Yuuri's hand in his own, shaking his head. "No time. Stay behind me, Yuuri. No matter what, you understand me?"
"O—Ok," Yuuri said, not understanding at all, but placing himself between his adjutant and the chain-link fence behind him—taking the umpire's position.
Gunter reached up, then behind him. "Hold these, won't you, Heika? I'll be back for them. Remember, stay behind me, don't let them come between us."
Yuuri took his adjutant's glasses from the tall man's fingers, then without knowing why, he threw himself at Gunter's back, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his cheek in between the man's shoulder blades.
He felt Gunter's hand cover his own, smaller fist, then squeeze. "Do not be afraid, Heika. I will protect you."
A howl from the tree-line made Yuuri stumble in fear. Gunter had pushed him away, unsheathing his sword.
When the black creatures came loping into sight, breaking from the trees in a growling pack, Yuuri finally understood Gunter's concern. He had no idea what they were, though they resembled the shadow creatures that had once threatened both human and mazoku as they'd built a bridge uniting not only their territories, but their lives. These wolf-like animals though seemed to be more like shadows, but their malevolence was unmistakable. Hatred and anger permeated the very air, making it hard for Yuuri to breathe. He backed up until he felt the chain fence pressing into his shoulder blades. Gunter, however, moved with an easy grace, despite the chains that still bound his legs. The young king wondered how the tall, beautiful man could even move. He knew this was a dream, and he wondered if some nightmare was trying to insinuate itself into the world his mind had built. Dream or no, though, he had tested the weight of those chains binding the man he…loved…and he knew they were more than he would have been able to manage himself.
Gunter's sword seemed to move almost of its own will—the graceful arcs ending in the deadly cuts that tore down shadow creature after shadow creature. But it seemed that no matter how many times Gunter brought his sword down, more of the monsters erupted from the trees. Despite his teacher's skill, wounds still appeared on his body—even though the creatures seemed to be made of oily smoke, without true corporeal bodies, their claws and fangs did damage enough. In the midst of his battle, Gunter missed one creature and it broke past him, heading straight for Yuuri. The younger man didn't know what to do, but before he could scream he heard Gunter shout—the sound not so much language as an unbelieving roar. His gentle, beautiful adjutant was gone, in his place was a fierce warrior. The creature never came within six feet of the Maou, meeting its end on the edge of Gunter's thrown sword. The older mazoku retrieved his weapon and returned to the fight with renewed vigor slicing down dark shapes with relentless fury. Yuuri had seen battles, fights, and skirmishes, but he had never seen such fierce, deadly skill—not even from Conrad. It was Gunter's face, however, that frightened him now. He wasn't afraid of Gunter, he never could be, but the man appeared to be enjoying what he was doing. As though he was no longer himself, and Yuuri was suddenly frightened that he would never see the Gunter he had come to know and love again—this being, this mazoku wielding the sword was ferocious, and Yuuri couldn't see anything of his gentle Gunter in him at all.
By the time the demon lord had dispatched the last of the creatures, he was covered in wounds and his cream colored trousers were black with the inky remains of the shadows. His own blood oozed out, and even his perfect, lovely face was marred by a slash on his cheek. His hair was matted, the ends clotted together with blood and evil, black essence. He looked like a wild creature himself, as he strode across the field, back to Yuuri. The younger man swallowed hard as the warrior approached him, the wild look still evident in his eyes. Yuuri felt a strange tightness in his throat and the sensation that he should run, but he was rooted to the spot, held there by the intensity of Gunter's gaze. The beautiful man, made even more terrible and beautiful by his exertions, didn't stop until he had reached the Maou, pulling the king to his chest by slinging an arm around his shoulders and reaching his hand into Yuuri's hair, fisting it and roughly yanking his neck back.
When Gunter's lips crashed down over his, Yuuri couldn't breathe or think. The kiss was nothing like he ever expected. It was bruising, punishing, demanding and consumed Yuuri completely. He heard the whimpers he made, but seemed disconnected from them. He was absorbed, devoured and lost in the sensations Gunter was causing to race over his senses. His hands came up to stroke over Gunter's bare chest, his tenderness at odds with his teacher's brutality. Opening his mouth under the onslaught of Gunter's lips, he responded with shy touches to the older man's almost desperate demands. The sword fell from Gunter's hand, his arm coming up to pull Yuuri closer to him still, his punishing kiss flaring in strength. Then, to Yuuri's amazement, the kiss gentled—softened into a dance of aching sweetness. Gunter was coming back to him, but with no loss of passion. He responded just as avidly as he had to the exciting but frightening strain of his advisor's initial kiss, but this time he felt joy, not anger—tenderness, not violence. This was a kiss that he couldn't really describe, except to say that it reached into his heart and warmed him through. Twining his tongue with Gunter's, tasting him, exploring him, Yuuri never wanted it to end.
As though in slow motion, Yuuri felt Gunter's fist relax in his hair, and he felt himself being pulled down by his adjutant's weight as they sank to the ground. For the space of a heartbeat, Yuuri expected that Gunter's hands would begin to move, to touch him even as he had been exploring the strong planes of Gunter's chest and back. Instead, he felt Gunter's weight settle onto him in a heavy heap. The tall man pulled back, finally releasing Yuuri's mouth. "Are you all right, Heika?"
"Hei—Heika?!" Yuuri exclaimed softly. "After a kiss like that, you're going to call me Heika?"
Gunter's eyelids fluttered down though he jerked them open once more. "So tired, Heika. You must…let me go."
Yuuri didn't understand what Gunter was talking about. But, he became aware, now the sensual fog was leaving his brain, that the tall advisor's blood was still flowing from his wounds. He moved, wriggling until he could separate himself from Gunter's embrace. Looking around, he saw that there was no remnant left of the baseball field. Instead, he was seeing an expanse of ground between trees and a river, covered in blood and littered with the remains of shadow creatures. This had to be where Gunter's body was. Yuuri had no idea why he was dreaming of this place, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. Gunter's safety was most important, and he was pretty sure that the Adjutant was as injured in real life as his dream-counterpart was.
"No," Yuuri said, looking around and trying to find someplace less exposed, safer. "I'm not leaving you, Gunter. You're hurt."
"Heika…it is not safe here." Gunter's voice sounded soft and far away.
"That's certainly true," Yuuri agreed. He got to his feet, and turned, finally seeing Gunter's horse—or rather, the carcass that was left of his horse. He swallowed, hard, trying to ignore the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Forcing himself to move, Yuuri picked his way through the carnage and after much tugging and struggle, managed to release Gunter's bags from the dead animal.
"Gunter," he whispered, coming back to the injured mazoku's side. "Don't fall asleep, Gunter. I need your help."
When the older man's eyes opened again, Yuuri couldn't read their expression. "How may I assist you, Heika?"
"We just need to get you to someplace safe, ok? I don't know if you can walk—those chains are so heavy. Can you?" Yuuri raked his hands through his hair, not caring about the mess he was making. "I didn't think dreams would be like this."
"Dreams?" Gunter asked, shifting against the ground. "Am I dreaming? I must be."
"I'll explain in a minute," Yuuri replied, reaching out to his injured advisor and willing his hands to glow blue. He didn't always have control of the Maou inside of him, but he had the skill to heal—he'd learned that long ago. It might be a dream, sure, but if he was a dream-king, and Gunter was, well, an injured dream-Gunter, then he should still be able to heal these wounds. Holding his hands over Gunter's chest, he could feel his maryoku respond to his silent plea. Focusing his love and concern into his hands, Yuuri brushed his fingers over Gunter's wounds, ending, finally, by laying his palm against Gunter's cheek and closing the gash there. His Gunter had a beautiful face, and Yuuri wanted him to keep it.
He guessed it had taken him somewhere close to half an hour to close the injuries to his lost demon lord. When he looked up, the sky had cleared again, though it was not daytime. It was sometime in the night, and it made it difficult for Yuuri to see where he was.
"Gunter," he said, bending close to the other man's ear. "Can you hear me? Are you still with me?"
"I am here, Heika. I…thank you for your concern. I will be well. I am only tired and need to rest."
"I don't doubt it," Yuuri muttered, remembering the battle. He shook his head. "But, you can't rest here. I don't think it's safe. I don't suppose you were headed somewhere else?"
"I saw, earlier, evidence of habitation along this trail. I was moving toward that direction before you called me to the baseball field."
"I called you...?"
"Yes, Heika. I don't know how…but it was like before. I could hear you calling to me, and so I followed. When I got to the baseball field, I sat down to wait. I don't know why."
"Ok, that's just weird, but enough talking now. Let's just get you someplace out of the open."
"Very well, Heika. If you wish it."
Yuuri would take up the subject of his name when the timing was more appropriate. As long as Gunter was talking, then he'd be able to help him. The shackles were still clamped around the magician's boots, but the chains now extended through the trees. Yuuri didn't know how far he'd be able to move his companion, but he had to try. Using his body as a staff, Yuuri allowed Gunter to support himself on him while they struggled to get the now-spent warrior to his feet. Time seemed to be flying now, and Yuuri cursed beneath his breath, wanting to stop the clock somehow. He didn't know why it was important, but the passage of time seemed to be an enemy as real as those shadow-wolves had been. Nearly buckling under Gunter's weight, as well as the warrior's sword which Yuuri held in his other hand, and the saddlebags resting on his shoulder, Yuuri guided them both through the trees. There was no trail he could see, and certainly no sign of habitation. Every step was an effort, Gunter dragging his legs slowly, the chains making a horrid rasp against the vegetation and dead leaves littering the forest floor.
There. He finally saw something that might do. He couldn't really call it a cave, more like convenient erosion that had dug a depression in the side of a hill that began to rise before them at a gentle slope. Regardless of the gradient, it was still almost impossible for Yuuri to get Gunter up the hill. His teacher seemed to sense his struggles, and put forth one last burst of energy to reach the mouth of what Yuuri had dubbed Shin Makoku's tinest cave. Yuuri helped Gunter to slide down against the back wall of the cave, unhappy that there was so little distance between the solid wall of earth and the opening, but there was nothing he could do about that. He dropped Gunter's bags, letting them fall from his shoulder in a heap, but taking care to wipe the sword clean and lay it gently beside the bags. He tried to think. What did he do next? A fire. Of course, he should build a fire to warm him.
"No, heika. A fire will draw others—be they enemies or no, I cannot defend myself just now."
"How did you know what I was thinking?" Yuuri asked, stunned.
"It was the logical conclusion," the tired man answered. "It is warm enough, tonight. I will not freeze without a fire."
"Maybe, but you're still a mess. I'm going back to the river for water. I'd tell you to wait here, but I don't think you're going anywhere. And we're going to need a small fire anyway, we'll just have to risk it because I can't see a damned thing I'm doing."
Yuuri didn't wait to hear Gunter's arguments, though he was sure that his advisor would have had plenty to say had the man had more energy. He wondered, while he walked, if Gunter had really been injured—in real life. He would have bet his kingdom on it, but if that were the case and he was still here, in this dreamscape, then that must mean Gunter was alive, somewhere, and if he was alive, then Yuuri had hope. He would wake, and then he would be able to find Gunter. That much he felt certain was true. The implements and items he was using now, though…were they real? He wasn't sure. He had tried, surreptitiously to summon a pitcher of water, because a person dreaming should be able to create objects, at least that's what he'd always thought. This didn't work that way, though. He had taken the collapsible water skin from Gunter's travel bag and had to physically rush back to the river. He didn't relish going through the remains of those creatures again, but he wasn't about to let Gunter languish in filth.
It took time, too much, precious time, to gather the water, collect a small amount of firewood, and set up the small shelter to better see to Gunter's comfort. Something, still, prickled at the back of his neck, urging him to greater speed. He couldn't help it though, he just couldn't settle until he had restored Gunter to some semblance of his former self. It wasn't so much that Yuuri cared what the beautiful man looked like, but he knew that after a long rest, Gunter would be embarrassed and upset if he were to discover himself disheveled and covered in blood and gore. Yuuri wasn't sure how he knew it, but, he did.
Using a small pan over the meager fire, Yuuri heated water—enough to knock the river's chill from it, and he rinsed Gunter's hair as best he could. At least it was all one shade again and not matted. Adopting a little girl had meant Yuuri knew something about haircare. He pulled it away from Gunter's shoulders and secured it in a low ponytail, using a tie he'd found in the saddlebags. Then he carefully began to sponge away the battle grime from Gunter's body. The adjutant was awake, but remained silent, only his eyes moving as he watched Yuuri's hands. The Maou felt self-conscious and his cheeks warmed accordingly with a blush. He cleaned Gunter's face, first, using care not to be too harsh with his movements. As the older mazoku's beautiful features were revealed once more, Yuuri began to relax. That was Gunter's face—his lovely eyes, his perfect brows, his gentle smile, his delicate nose, his…sensual lips. Yuuri stared at the other man's mouth, remembering their kiss and feeling heat spread through his body. Shaking his head to clear the vision, he reminded himself that he was trying to make his teacher feel better, not ogle him like a lecher. Wringing out his cloth, he wiped down Gunter's arms, neck and chest, then tenderly rubbed circles over the demon lord's tight abdomen. He was thinking about how handsome Gunter was, and not really paying attention to anything else, when he felt the man in question cover his own hand with his larger one. Yuuri looked up to see Gunter's expression had turned…heated, again. Gunter guided Yuuri's hand over his stomach, pressing up against the king's fingers in a motion that could only have meant seduction.
"I don't know if this is a dream, or if I'm dying, Heika. Either way…let me taste you again."
Yuuri lost the ability to breathe, the soft, sexy growl that had become Gunter's voice robbed him of anything like common sense. "You're an injured man, Gunter," he whispered. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I am not a man, Heika." Gunter replied, his voice darker still with desire. He used his hand to draw Yuuri's down further, lower on his abdomen, below his navel. "I am a demon, and a dangerous one, for all of my civility. You shouldn't mistake me for human, because I am not."
Suddenly, Gunter's fingers circled Yuuri's wrist, pulling his arm up, which made the young king's body follow. It was either straddle Gunter's lap, or come sprawling across it, and Yuuri wasn't sure which would be better, but he chose to spread his legs and rest his knees against each side of Gunter's hips. Then the tall demon lord, pulled him down, again using his wrist, holding him there until Yuuri realized he was waiting…waiting for Yuuri to close the distance, to complete the motion that would bring him back to that fiery place inside of himself.
Yuuri pressed his lips to Gunter's, without a moment's hesitation. He wanted this. He wanted this feeling, this throbbing ache of nerves and blood that made him feel light-headed, dizzy and powerful all at once. He wanted to feel the softness of Gunter's lips as they compelled him to do more, be more, give more until Yuuri thought he was pouring his whole soul into the seductive man's mouth. With one hand still held in Gunter's grasp, and the other trapped between their bodies, caressing his tutor's stomach, Yuuri gasped when Gunter's free hand slid along his thigh, stroking and teasing until coming to rest on his ass. Squeezing and pulling him sharply forward, Gunter arched up against the Maou, using only his hips. Yuuri moaned into Gunter's mouth, and received a light, loving nip as a reward, he thought.
"If I never see you again," Gunter whispered, his voice ragged against Yuuri's lips, "I wanted you to know…to know how I feel."
"Don't talk like that, Gunter." Yuuri pleaded, his fear slicing through his passion. "I'm going to see you again. Even now, I'm here because of your potion. I found your gifts, Gunter, and I don't understand them all, but I found them. I'm trying to find you. I want you to come home."
The look of passion on Gunter's face died and was replaced by shock. "My…potion? But how? Heika, are you telling me you've taken my potion?"
The boy nodded, leaning in for another kiss, but was rudely hauled back.
"Heika…Oh, you shouldn't have done that—not til we talked."
"But, why, Gunter? Is it dangerous?"
"Yes, but not in the way you're thinking. Time is running short, Heika, I can feel it, can't you? I don't have time to explain it all right now. Where are you right now, Heika..your body, where is it?"
"I…I'm asleep, I guess, in camp with Conrad and Yozak. Why?"
"The creatures, the ones you saw tonight, are the bane of the Von Kleist family. Think of them as…the antithesis of our virtue—their evilness. They feed on our blood, on our essence. When I left the castle, I knowingly broke the pact of peace between my family and the shadow-wraiths. You carry part of my soul inside of you now, Yuuri—I am in you. They can scent that and mark you as a Von Kleist. Are you far from the castle?"
"I am closer to you than to home, I think."
"I'm so utterly stupid. I thought you were a dream, just a dream brought on by my…leaving you. I should have known." The adjutant shook his head. "You healed me tonight, Heika…and I think you healed my body as well, but I am unsure. Will you not go back to the castle, where it is safe?"
"I won't leave without you, Gunter. Not until you are with us again. I don't care about the wraiths," Yuuri vowed.
"Stubborn, hard-headed, selfish…beautiful boy," Gunter's insult sounded more like a caress. "Then you must tell Conrad that I am west of the Singing Forest, and that he should follow the river. I will wait for you, Heika, but you are in great danger. You must confide in Conrad."
"I will." Yuuri promised. "Gunter…?"
The adjutant leaned back against the wall and raised his brows—the use of energy in his outburst had clearly depleted him.
"I want to ask…" Yuuri broke off, then took a deep breath. He had to know. "Did you…did you only kiss me because you thought you were dreaming or dying?"
"I have kissed you in my dreams countless times, Heika," Gunter said, his eyes filling with the same sadness Yuuri had come to see as his normal expression. "I have longed to kiss you since the moment we met. I kissed you tonight because I couldn't wait any longer—even if it isn't real."
"It's real to me," Yuuri said, bravely leaning forward and pressing his lips to Gunter's again. Just as he felt the tall man begin to respond, the strange sensation of being ripped away washed over him again.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in his tent. Yozak's voice rang out, calling him to wake up. He took a deep breath, noticing that his lips were both tingling and sore. His memory flooded back and he scrambled out of his tent, not bothering with shoes or shirt. Gunter was in grave danger, still, and he might be as well. They had to get to Gunter—today.
…somewhere deep in the forest, the beautiful demon lord lay sleeping—his face a study in both love and concern. For even though his heart was warmed by the knowledge that he held some importance to this demon king, and was not, as he first thought, a castaway, he still knew that there were many dangers ahead. Try as he might, he could not wake up, and the beautiful lord let loose a silent roar. His body, battered and wounded, had released his soul to wander…but he could not protect his king without an arm to wield a sword.
In his room, in the castle, the jealous prince, however, was not engaged in worry for the demon king, as everyone else seemed to be. No, the prince was crafty, and devious when it suited him. He did not understand the danger the demon-king and the beautiful demon lord faced, concerned only with regaining his lost status. Instead, he was hatching a plan of his own…
And this brings us to the end of Chapter three. If I rushed this, I could finish this next chapter, but that would be the cheap and easy way…so, that being said…we still have some story to go. I hope you all enjoyed it…I have to say, I really enjoyed giving hints as to Gunter's past character…more about that, though, next time…and more gifts explained, too! Thank you so much for reading, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts…have a great weekend, everyone…I'll be seeing you—SN