A/N: I'm aware that my Yuuri is a little angsty and violent in this fic but remember that he is older and severely depressed. Also, there is just something so satisfying about corrupting good people.

I was informed that Wolfram's last name is spelled Bielefeld, not Bielefield. From now on, that's how it will be spelled.

Chapter 10

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yuuri stormed down the castle halls with Conrad beside him.

"Why is it that Gwendal wants to see me?" he asked Conrad.

"I think, Your Majesty, that it has to do with the actions that you took four nights ago when you let a high security prisoner escape from the castle." Yuuri could not believe Conrad could talk about his brother so impersonally. He pushed open the door to Gwendal's office.

Gwendal sat at his desk. A stack of papers had been pushed aside to show his ever-serious face. Behind him stood-

Wolfram?

No, no that was impossible. Yuuri felt incredibly stupid. The person was far too young to be Wolfram. He was too short. His hair was too dark.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Your Majesty." The boy said, approaching Yuuri and stooping into a low bow.

"Gwendal," Yuuri growled, rudely ignoring the boy, "What is the meaning of this?" Gwendal sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

"Because his Majesty had taken it upon himself to set free -"

"Are you actually saying that what I did was wrong!?" Interrupted Yuuri hotly.

"Calm down. I have not, in any way, disagreed with what you've done. Thus far, we've been able to keep quiet all that has happened with Wolfram. In order for things to stay that way, however, there are certain precautions that we must take."

"What kind of precautions..." Yuuri asked suspiciously, glancing at their guest.

"As of now," Gwendal began, "this country has no queen. Now it would be quite a hassle to find you another spouse and waste all that time and effort on another marriage. Not to mention, we would have to announce Wolfram's death. You can imagine what an uproar this would cause both with the court and with the entire kingdom. I have devised a simpler solution. We are going to fool the public into thinking that you are still happily married to Wolfram." Yuuri frowned. He did not like where this was going at all.

Gwendal motioned toward the boy who was still kneeling before Yuuri. "This, Your Majesty, is Ralph Von Bielefeld. From now on he is your husband." Yuuri stared at the both of them.

"…So we're just going to forget about Wolfram? We're just going to replace him?" Yuuri asked this even though he had already accepted that such a thing would be necessary.

"We've done all we can for him, Your Majesty." Gwendal replied, rather frustrated. "There must be a reason for what he did, but the fact is we cannot ignore the law. Wolfram's life is in his own hands now, and if he is smart, he will stay away from this place." Yuuri bowed his head.

"Even so…" Yuuri said, clenching his fists. He gestured to the Bielefeld boy. "He is nothing like Wolfram. Just look at him!" Yuuri walked over and grabbed a handful of the boy's hair. "This hair…" he tilted the chin up. "This face…It's all wrong. Who is this little kid going to fool?" Yuuri demanded.

"Forgive me for saying this, Your Majesty, but people are stupid. They are easy manipulated. They see what they want to see. The differences that seem so obvious to you will not be noticed by the common man. I suggest you let go of your stubbornness in order to make all of our lives easier." Gwendal said.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," the boy, Ralph, was speaking to Yuuri, "I may be young, but even from what I understand about human life spans, seventy years is a lot more than twenty." Yuuri's lip curled at the insult. He shoved the boy into Gwendal's desk.

"I guess his mouth is comparable to Wolfram's." Yuuri admited. Gwendal grunted and leaned over to straighten out a pile of documents that were on the verge of toppling.

"He is a Bielefeld, after all." Gwendal commented. Yuuri let out a frustrated sigh.

"You've already decided to do this, haven't you Gwendal? It doesn't even matter what I think does it?" Yuuri guessed.

"Well you are the last person in this castle to know." Gwendal responded. Yuuri gritted his teeth and walked over to the door.

"Then, I don't see why you even bothered to call me here." He wrenched the door open. "You can make that brat my husband if you wish, but I don't want to see his face while he's in my castle."

The door slammed.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

"I'm leaving and that's final!" The old farmer shouted at his pestering friend. "I'm finished here in the city and I'd like to get home as soon as possible."

"But I've heard talk of a nasty group of bandits along that road. You might never make it home. That's why I think you should wait a while until everyone else starts clearing out too."

"You sound like my wife. I don't believe in those stories you hear from drunks."

"I'm telling you, it's dangerous to go alone." Said the worried friend. Wolfram was done listening to the two of them bicker. He pulled his hood over his head and approached the farmer as he was loading up his wagon.

"If you are in need of a bodyguard, I would be happy to take up the job." Wolfram said. The old farmer set down the crate he was carrying and studied Wolfram.

"What kind of bodyguard doesn't even have a sword?" The man grunted impatiently.

"My flames are more than enough." Wolfram responded, conjuring a small fire in one palm to prove his abilities.

"Forget it, kid." The farmer said, picking up the crate again and putting it with the others already stacked in the wagon. "I can't afford a bodyguard anyway."

"I don't care about the money. I'm just looking for a ride out of this city." Wolfram said. The old farmer was silent as he continued to work. After a while, he turned back to Wolfram and held out a hand.

"The name's Dirk." He said, introducing himself.

"Julian." Wolfram replied, shaking his hand.

"Come over here and give me a hand with this. Make yourself useful."

Only a few hours went by before they were finally passing through the front gates. Wolfram sat in the back of the wagon, one leg pulled up to his chest and the other dangling lazily over the edge as he watched the magnificent capital become farther and farther away. Wolfram was glad he had decided to leave the city. It was better to be away from his family, his friends, and all the faces that he knew. It was better to get away and not constantly be reminded of what he could no longer have. He wasn't needed anymore. Yesterday was proof. Seeing his cousin play the part of royal consort so perfectly made Wolfram realize that things would carry on without him. He was, after all, just a face…just a name. It was just politics.

Wolfram stretched out with his arms behind his head and looked up at the clear blue sky. He stopped his mind before it could bring up images of Yuuri (something it often did in boredom) and instead forced himself to think of the overwhelming subject of where to go next, what to do, who to find. It brought him into deep despair when he thought about how he really didn't know how to live his new life.

He allowed one of his hands to rest on his abdomen. He'd never before given much thought to the other life that he was responsible for. It was a lingering reminder of what he had done. All mazoku, male and female, were expected to be married before starting a family. In most noble families, a child not born out of wedlock would receive no inheritance and the parents would be disowned. Wolfram knew that society was sure to look down on him, no matter his social class.

They made camp that night. It was going to take a good three days before they reached their destination. Wolfram was told by Dirk that he shouldn't feel obliged to accompany the farmer the entire way and that he was free to leave whenever he pleased. Wolfram already knew that he would take this wagon as far as he could. He had nowhere else to go anyway.

It was the second day that Wolfram would have an abrupt change of plan.

He awoke that morning to nausea far more intense than what plagued him most days and went off into the trees to heave his guts out. Upon returning, he found an irate Dirk storming up to him.

"Did you set the horse lose last night? And where's the food?" his eyes darkened. "I had a feeling that you were a dirty thief!" he accused hotly.

Wolfram had no idea what he was talking about. Suddenly, Wolfram was aware that his morning sickness might not have been that. He knew this feeling. He narrowed his eyes. There was a Horyoku user nearby.

Wolfram dropped to the ground, pulling the old farmer with him, as arrows whizzed over their heads. They crawled behind the wagon.

"What is it?" asked Dirk. Wolfram attempted a peak around the corner.

"Could be bandits…" said Wolfram. He rolled up his sleeves. "Could be something worse."

"Something worse?" Wolfram didn't have time to answer. He heard horses approaching and suddenly there were flaming arrows catching fire to their supplies. He easily put them out and stood up. He walked out from the protection of the farm cart.

One, two, three. Three men on horses. The first one advanced upon Wolfram, swinging a heavy sword. Wolfram called upon his maryoku and directed the fire at the first bandit. It singed his clothes but he blocked the worst of the stream with his sword. Wolfram was panting heavily already and he was aware that his attack wasn't nearly as strong as it should have been.

Pain erupted in his leg and he looked down to see an arrow embedded in his flesh. While concentrating on one bandit he had lost track of the other two. This would not do. It was three against one.

"All beings that make up the element of fire, obey this mazoku who summons you." Wolfram declared.

A giant fire lion materialized above Wolfram. Two of the enemy backed away in fright. Wolfram smirked and unleashed his pet on them. He would have laughed as the team of bandits shrieked in pain but Wolfram realized the something was horribly wrong. He had lost control of his own maryoku. Soon, everything was burning. The supplies, the wagon, the nearby trees.

Wolfram fell onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath. He used what little strength he had left to call back his lion and end the attack.

He suddenly felt cold steel on the back of his neck accompanied by a vicious cackle.

"Can I make his head roll, boss?"

"Go take care of the geezer."

"You're no fun. The young ones have the best screams." The blade left the back of his neck and bandit number three scurried away.

Wolfram attempted to stand but a boot came smashing down upon his head, forcing his face into the dirt.

"Stay down." Wolfram heard the jingle of noisy spurs drawing nearer.

"Take your foot off him. Let's have a looksie." Wolfram's hands were tied behind him and he was lifted so that he was facing bandit number one. He was heavily muscled with short, spikey, blue hair and an arrogant smile.

"Well well. We got ourselves a pretty one, don't we, Shooter?"

"We should kill him. He's obviously dangerous. It is a stroke of good fortune that we have not been burned alive."

"He caused us quite a bit of trouble. There's nothing else worth stealing now 'cept him. I'm taking him." Wolfram began to struggle. The first bandit reached down and twisted the arrow still entrenched in his leg. The pain was awful but Wolfram refused to make a sound. He grit his teeth. His vision was beginning to blur and he could feel the creeping unconsciousness. "See, Blondie? It's better if you don't move." There was a horrible scream. Wolfram's eyes widened.

"Dirk…" whispered Wolfram, recognizing the voice of his traveling companion.

"Yeesh. Let's get outta here, Shooter. I'm not going to listen while he cuts the guy up."

Wolfram was thrown over the back of one of the horses. He couldn't bring himself to look at the old man getting tortured. All he could think about was that he had failed as a bodyguard.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yuuri had a feeling he was going insane.

He sat in the bath, dreading the coming sleepless night. The water had turned cold after the first few hours had passed. The steam and the bubbles had long since disappeared.

The nightmares had returned. Every night he would awake to find his sheets drenched in sweat, with his heart racing like he had just run a marathon. Sometimes he would wake up shaking with fear, not sure if what he had just witnessed was reality or not. There would be no sleep after that. There was no escape.

He dreamt of battle, of the atrocities of war, of dying a horrible gruesome death. He dreamt of following Greta into that forest of thorns, observing things so twisted that he would not be able to put them in words.

He dreamt of Wolfram. Sometimes he was watching Wolfram bleed to death in his arms while knowing that there was nothing he could do for him. Sometimes he dreamt of Wolfram's body. Wolfram would be lying on their bed, hot and aroused, begging for Yuuri to come and touch him. At that moment Yuuri would want nothing else in the world more than to satisfy his lust, but instead he would wake with an aching erection and only his hand for company.

Yuuri grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist. He didn't bother to dry his hair. Water dripped down his face as he left the baths and climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he dropped the wet towel to the floor and went to find his pajamas in his closet.

"Good evening, Your Majesty." said a quiet voice. Yuuri jumped a mile. He turned around, using both hands to hide his nakedness. A figure sat up on Yuuri's bed.

"What the hell do you think you are doing in my room?" Yuuri growled. Ralph looked embarrassed. He averted his eyes, blushing heavily.

"It wasn't my idea." He mumbled. "I was ordered to pretend to be your husband at all times." He looked mortified as he fingered the sheets nervously. "Also…I was told that eventually I would have to give you a child," he hesitated before leaning back against the pillows and pushing the covers back to reveal his thin body, "So…let's get it over with."

Yuuri wasn't listening. He noticed that Ralph was wearing a pink nightgown…Wolfram's pink nightgown.

"How dare you wear that nightgown!" Yuuri hissed, his mind succumbing to blinding fury. He stomped over to the bed. The boy threw his hands up defensively.

"I'm sorry. Please! I didn't know." Yuuri grabbed a handful of the silky pink cloth and tore it off of the small body.

"Get out of my sight." snarled Yuuri.

"I-"

"OUT!" Yuuri screamed. He seized a pale wrist and threw the poor boy out the bedroom door. When Yuuri was alone again, he sank to the floor, breathing heavily and clutching the shredded pink cloth to his bare chest.

He began to sob.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

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