The wedding was the biggest and brightest spectacle in well over a decade and Wolfram couldn't wait for it to be over. His dress coat was itchy, his new boots pinched his toes, the tailor had made the collar just a tad too tight and his hair refused to settle into a uniform or at least pleasing way. Of course he would look and feel miserable on 'the happiest day of his life'. He wasn't sure why he had looked forward to this the way he had. It was lengthy and extravagant and it wasting so much of their time just to state for the whole kingdom everything they already had established together. Time was precious, it shouldn't be wasted. He was anxious for it to be over with so their lives could simply continue. Time was always moving, even for mazoku. Wolfram paced a worn spot into the rug as he waited for Conrad to guide him down to the procession.

The wedding was being held in the temple but the landscape seemed wrong. Vast shores of rolling waves swept along its sides instead of the scrawling forests and hillsides. It gave Wolfram a slight pause as he looked from the window-since when was he allowed to occupy any space in the temple?-but with the ribbons and banners all wafting off the stone in the sea breeze, it was hard to have any complaint. He could hear music and people but could not see either. Waiting was very hard. So much time wasted.

Conrad knocked on the door then entered. He looked fantastic in his suit, the very image of a gentleman. He looked very much older, wrinkles forming at his eyes. When did he get to be so old? Wolfram thought he even saw a spec of grey in his hair, a wisp of white at his temples. Time ticked off the decades on his countenance. His brother still smiled the same, wrinkles deepening in the expression. It was time.

There was an aisle and two men standing at the far end of it, both in their traditional attire but only one there for Wolfram. The officiate was Murata and somehow that only made too much sense. Of course it would be the sage who married them. The music and gaiety were much louder but fell to a hush as Wolfram walked towards his future husband on his brother's arm. How long was the aisle? Why did they have to walk so slow? Wasting so much time...

Wolfram came to stand at the top of the aisle beside his betrothed who bent a wiry kiss to his brow. "It'll all be over soon," he said, scarlet uniform blazing in the sunlight from overhead.

Wolfram looked up at him, that same feeling of wrongness returning. "Alfie?"

The guests started screaming. Big Cimarron soldiers dropped in, swords slicing through men and women and children and turning the white flowers pink in blood.

Another one of these...

Wolfram pulled a sword from a sheath that hadn't been there before, stepping forward with his arms out to protect. "Murata! Get him to safety!"

He heard no reply. Wolfram looked over his shoulder to see no one there but still knew they had not fled as he had wished. He clashed swords with several soldiers, his white suit slashed and pink as the flowers as he tried to turn back down the aisle. He could see him, Alfgeir, fighting not too far away. The more he struggled to reach him, the more the swords seemed to catch him off guard, tearing away more pieces of him. He should have been dead by now. Wolfram finally burst through the mass of men, joining Alfgeir at his side. The soldiers opened in a circle around them, swords and arrows poised and ready.

"My life to yours, in good spirits and bad, in weakness and strength, in triumph and defeat, for as long as life is ours to share."

"Now isn't the time renew your vows, Alfie!"

The ginger man chuckled, sword pointing out at a man hanging back from the fray whose cruel smirk delighted in watching them struggle. Wolfram knew the face well and fought himself to stand guard and not run at him in blind rage: the general.

Not this time...

"We can't win here. We have to run!"

Alfgeir shook his head, his sword held steady. "We'd never make it."

"We have to try!" Wolfram pulled at him, hands slippery with blood. "Maybe we won't make it but we'll definitely die here!"

"Not really the honeymoon I'd hoped for."

Wolfram punched him, strength fading as the crowd of soldiers seemed to part to make way for the general as he calmly strode towards them. Wolfram raised his sword but the blade felt it weighed a hundred pounds. It fell from his grasp, clanging to the temple floor. Wolfram roared at his impotence as arrows flew at them, pinning him through his flesh and bones to Alfgeir who stood behind him. His body was hardly anything more than scraps but he kept his eyes pinned to the general as he his raised sword and held it to arc at his neck...

Wolfram awoke as the sword severed his head, jolting into a sitting position in bed with sweat soaking his nightclothes and swelled breath choking him in his throat. There was no light outside his window; only darkness. Another night of rest cut short by the same, tired dream. Wolfram let out the painful, trembling breath as he took stock of reality: ten fingers, two arms, beating heart, neck intact, husband still murdered but at least avenged. He hated the dreams-the nightmares. That he had them more often since returning home was a fact he hated even more.

At least it meant he got to see his friend again. It was a poor bright side to a nightmare but with night after night of watching him die, there was some small consolation in first getting to see Alfgeir alive once more.

There would be no more sleep for the night. Wolfram stood up and pulled on his robe, mind and heart restless. The guards at his door were used to this by now and followed without question as Wolfram headed down to the kitchens. A snack would help his mood and pacify the ache in his stomach. Word must have gotten around to the staff as easily attained morsels were left ready for him along with a cool pitcher of water waiting in the icebox. He helped himself to a slice of pie and a tall glass then sat at the wooden block table to enjoy both.

It felt good to eat. Food had never been very important to him until the ability to eat and hold down food was lost. Just thinking about houseki made his stomach hurt but rather than turn away from food, the ache begged for it. He could remember the hunger pains masked by the other torture and how even after being freed from the cursed stone he could hardly swallow spit let alone a bite. There would always be other pains but this one he could heal with his fork, a sweet sliver of baked delight, and a crisp, cold drink to drink. Time would have to heal the rest.

After more than two months, he had hoped to have left more of it behind him. The dreams said otherwise. In Trebic he had mostly dreamed of darkness, too tired for even his subconscious mind to bother with the effort of dreaming. The dreams that were generally kept true to events, a simple rehashing of their deaths as he remembered them. It was Shin Makoku which turned the snow to white flowers and the back castle garden into Shinou's temple. It made the marriage at sea become a wedding at home and made time wind round till Wolfram could even forget sometimes how the dreams went and enjoy for a moment a peaceful reunion. He missed him still. He supposed, in many ways, he understood much better now the pain his brother had felt when Julia died. Being close to someone to the point of sharing almost everything, no secrets, even if there was no romance woven into it, was in many ways a far more intimate relationship than love alone. There was no consolation in the courage he showed or the quickness of his death. Wolfram could still remember the smell of him burning. Sometimes the smell permeated even his nightmares. Whatever the reason or meaning behind such dreams, Wolfram didn't care. He simply wanted to forget the sights, smells and sounds of their defeat as much at night as he managed during the day.

The days were much easier. During the day there was Greta and Yuuri, meetings with Zorashia's dignitaries, go here, come there. Tea parties, kite flying, horseback rides, walks along the city streets, they'd been wonderful ways to pass the daylight hours between arguing old men saying the same things again and again. Nights, however, were idle and long. He'd thought the time spent with Yuuri in the tower room would have given him at least that night free of any thoughts other than those of his beloved. The worse of the nightmares had been on that night, though, making him glad to have slept far away from where Yuuri could hear his scream. Turning down Greta for more sleepovers was hard as well. He did not want to worry anyone unnecessarily and Yuuri, more than anyone else he knew, was a worrier.

There was no reason to worry. He was fine. No matter what happened, they'd think of something, and someday, no matter how long it took, they would all be together as a family again.

Wolfram stabbed at the crust of his pie with his fork, scraping the plate. Sometimes having to look on the bright side of things just pissed him off all the more.

The door to the kitchen pushed open, giving Wolfram a momentary start. No one else should have been awake. While the kitchen was hardly his alone in the early mornings, the thought of being caught and explaining himself was unwelcome in his still raw state. His guard held open the door and stood aside as Murata of all people entered, fully dressed in his black uniform as though the hours were those he usually kept to. He smiled at Wolfram as he ambled in, his purposeful walk taking him straight to the rest of the pie.

"Ah, Effe sure does make the best desserts around."

Wolfram stared, not sure for a moment if he had yet to stop dreaming. "You came all the way here from the temple just to sneak a slice of Effe's pie and four in the morning?" He shook his head, cutting through to his next bite. "People from Earth are strange."

"Maybe a little." The sage pulled a plate and cut himself a large slice, inviting himself to sit at the table opposite him with no reservations or consideration to what might have brought him there. He let out a long sigh as he cheerfully took a bite. "So good~ Still, you have to agree people from Trebic are stranger than even us. Who else would send their top official to a different country just to make sure none of the nobles got power hungry enough to repeat the general's fine example."

Wolfram made a face. It wasn't worth it to bother asking where the sage got his information. Surely Gwendal or Gunter or even the doves themselves would find a way to inform Yuuri's infuriatingly knowledgeable counterpart. He rested his elbow on the table, pushing back on his bangs as he poked at this pie. "That's not Trebic, that's Bersi being an idiot.

"He's worried about you."

"He shouldn't be. I'm not worried about it. I only agreed because it meant I got to come home." Wolfram cut an apple spear in half and slid it around on the plate, picking up crust crumbs and giving his eyes somewhere else to look than at the sage's strange duple expressions of wizened superiority and morbid curiosity. With four thousand years of memory, the sage had probably earned the right to both. It didn't make it any less annoying coming from someone who looked no older or more experienced than himself.

Murata helped himself to the pitcher of water, filling his glass full. "So you're not scared or worried it will happen again?"

Wolfram shook his head. "Not particularly. It happened under very specific circumstances for purely political reasons. I'm more afraid of Shinou on a day-to-day basis than I am of some random person thinking they can become king if they can get me to hold still long enough. Everyone knows what happened to the last guy who did."

Murata chuckled, nomming on another bite. "That's very true. I think it was wise of Sir Veeif to send you away all the same. No matter how capable you are, power hungry people are almost always opportunists as well."

"It won't be an issue for long." Wolfram ate the small apple sliver, not enjoying present company nearly as much as his snack. Speaking with the sage, though not a common occurrence, at least occupied his mind. Wolfram even enjoyed his lack of tact at times. Beating around the bush could be rather verbally exhausting. "If you're satisfied that I'm not nearly as damaged or vulnerable as most people seem to assume I am, can we drop the subject?"

"Ah, of course. My apologies. Actually, I'm more intrigued by what you said about Shinou. Are you really afraid of him?"

A slight shiver ran down Wolfram's spine. He attributed it to the cold water. "I don't exactly have your confidence in that area. He does. And I have no intention of speaking ill of him to anyone, least of all his Great Sage."

Murata shrugged his shoulders, arms bent with palms up. "Oh, you don't have to tell me his faults. I know them all. I know them very, very well. I'm curious as to which ones are the ones you find fearful, though. It's not as though I'll tattle but perhaps I should know which things to chastise him more for." He smiled, taking up his fork again. "There really isn't anything you can say that will surprise me when it comes to Shinou, Wolfram. And there's no one more blasphemous than me."

He supposed that was true but it still seemed like quite the trap. Murata himself, after all, was a master of deception. Neither he nor Shinou could really be trusted at face value. But perhaps venting on a subject unrelated to his current midnight obsessions would help push the dreams back further and let him carry on with his day.

Wolfram sat straight in his chair, arms crossed over his chest for the moment with his snack still unfinished. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that my entire family was put together by Shinou. Four thousand years ago he decided who my mother would sleep with and when so that my brothers and I would be keys of the right ages to serve Yuuri as he needed us to. And now that Shoushu has been defeated and the boxes are no longer a threat, there is no need for keys. I've already outlived the purpose Shinou made me for and the only other use I seem to have to him is as a vessel for him to possess. I don't want to imagine I look like him for his own vanity in occupying my body."

"Ah, well, he does enjoy certain freedoms I suppose." Murata nodded calmly, tapping his fork against his lip. "And of course that's all quite true but even Yuuri has more or less outlived his usefulness too as you put it. Anyone can be king but only Yuuri could defeat Shoushu. Shinou may not have really planned ahead much further than that but he didn't expect everyone to just disappear when it was all over. Yuuri's the king he wants and the rest of you are the people he wants supporting him. He's actually quite fond of you. A little exasperated at your actions at times but still fond."

Wolfram looked at his plate, not sure what to say to that.

Murata didn't seem to be waiting for a response anyway, continuing on as he cut off his next bite. "Really, he likes anyone who makes Yuuri happy. I have to agree, though, he can be a little too excessive at times. As for me, I am constantly having to do his dirty work for him. Effe's pie is wonderful but it's a small consolation for being asked to travel out here at four in the morning. Everyone always seems to shoot the messenger."

"I would too if I was receiving a message at this hour."

Murata quirked his head to the side slightly, fork still against his lips as he swallowed. "Wolfram, you arereceiving one at this hour." He tucked in to another bite, eyes downcast as he stabbed an apple with the three small prongs. "If you won't go to Shinou yourself, eventually someone was going to have to come here to you. The dreams obviously weren't working."

Wolfram let his fork clatter against his plate as he dropped it. "Those dreams were all Shinou'sdoing!" He stood up, face red with anger and embarrassment that Murata knew how he spent his nights tossing and turning. "What kind of game is he trying to play with me now? I'm not his puppet!"

Murata took another bite, ignoring his outburst. "Shinou may have behaved poorly in the past with his readiness to use you but there has been no malice in his current attempts to contact you."

"No malice? Is there some great honor in being able to watch my husband die over and over and over again?"

"Wolfram. Please sit down."

Wolfram slammed his fist against the table. "I don't care who he is; he can't do this to me! I've done everything for this country! What could I have possibly done to deserve this?"

"Wolfram." Murata's voice raised in volume and insistence, his face stern. "Sit down, please. You'll make your guards anxious if you continue. You do not want to have this conversation with an audience."

The prince consort's fists shook with rage but he forced himself to sit. He glared at Murata with the hope that he could somehow make him explode. Little pieces of Murata everywhere would be a mess for the maids but nothing a few new hair bobbles or a bouquet of flowers wouldn't make up for.

Murata leaned back on his stool, not impressed nor intimidated in the least. "Shinou exerted himself a great deal to help you in Trebic. He recovering much better with me here now but he cannot project himself outside the temple. With you in Blood Pledge, he has been trying to shape your dreams to communicate with you but the message is still too subtle it seems. He had asked me to grief you about not coming and thanking him in person but I at least understand that you have been busy."

Wolfram winced slightly at his lack of respect all the same. "So.. so it was Shinou who brought me back?"

"If any mazoku could simply will himself back to life, I'm sure it would be you, Wolfram. But in this case it was Shinou and being so far away and in human territory as well really took it out of him."

"I'll go to the temple in the morning," Wolfram promised, not sure how annoyed he really should have been at the original king for demanding his well-earned thanks. The dreams were hardly fair but he'd been having them long enough now that it was hard to blame him for their overall content. The last thing he needed to do was further insult the ghostly man with further indignity and insubordination.

Murata shook his head. "That's not the issue here. What matters isn't that you go and prostrate yourself at his feet but that you understand what happened that night and what it means for your future."

Wolfram paused. "What do you mean my future?"

"Wolfram... you remember Conrad's arm? How Shinou gave him a new one when he lost his real one in combat?"

Forgetting would be harder than remembering. He nodded, trying not to think too much about the time spent mourning his older brother. They had been dark days when even Yuuri had been lost. It was not something to be spoken of.

Murata pressed his glasses up on his nose. "Shinou can't simply make something out of nothing. With Conrad's arm, it was an ancestor's sacrifice. With Yuuri, it was the life of Julia to give him a soul that could complete Shinou's objectives. He can shape things, he can give them to others, but he can't create. In both Conrad and Yuuri's case, the things that were sacrificed were given up freely and with full knowledge. In your case, Shinou had to be... creative." His eyes seemed darker in the candle lit room, Murata's serious face softened by the warm glow. The soft smile he offered held a note of sympathy that was not in the least bit encouraging. "In your wedding vows on the ship, Prince Havard promised to share his life with you. Shinou took that literally and took away the rest of his natural life moments before his wounds would have killed him."

Wolfram shook his head, mouth agape. "Shinou killed-"

"No," Murata stated firmly. "Big Cimarron soldiers did. All Shinou did was get to him before blood loss and injury claimed all of what he could have lived. As for you, your soul was kept safe until it could be returned to your body. The circumstance's weren't ideal but seventy years is still better than none at all."

He hadn't heard him right. It was impossible for him to have heard him right. "Seventy," he repeated, somewhat amazed the word managed to form on his own tongue.

Murata nodded, frowning. "You're not human; you won't age like one regardless of how much time you have left though as a mazoku you will certainly perceive seventy years differently from how a human would. At the best, humans only live to be around 100 if by no cause but nature." He sighed, slouching in his seat as though a heavy burden rested on his shoulders. "I thought at first that maybe it would be better if you didn't know but with things as they are... well, no one wants you make decisions based on presumed longevity."

He knew he'd heard him, knew the words were spoken in his own language and made as clear and concise as possible but still Wolfram swore the sage had spoken complete and utter gibberish. Seventy years. He was eighty-three; he wasn't ready to have lived more than half his life already. If he had to marry Bersi there would not be any time left at all for him and Yuuri. Conrad would outlive him, Gretawould outlive him. Any family he hoped to have with Yuuri would be one he would leave much like his own father had left him-too soon vanished to be remembered.

Murata took his glasses from his face, wiping at the lenses with a rag. "I understand it's not ideal. I wish things were different, especially with things proceeding between Yuuri and yourself as they are. I shouldn't say especially, I guess. It's not the best of news regardless of the situation."

"How... how will I...?" He couldn't finish it.

He didn't need to. "In your sleep. Simply collapsing during the day. Sudden but peaceful." Murata placed his glasses back on his solemn face. "While I do think you should know, I do not think knowing the years, months, days, hours, minutes and seconds till that day are going to be beneficial. Much to the contrary. You'll simply run out of time and stop living."

Wolfram pushed away from the table, his stool crashing to the tile behind him, body visibly shaking. Murata seemed to wait for an outburst, either of anger or grief. Wolfram felt sure the sage was more than ready to deal with either. The emotion was terror, however, and it sent the mazoku running.

"W-Wolfram! Wait!"

The Trebic guard were immediately on alert as their prince consort tore down the hallway past them, not waiting for their entourage as he bolted around the building he had haunted since childhood. He knew the layout instinctively, feet pounding on the same tiles he'd crawled on, walked on, raced along for over eighty years. There wasn't time to wait for guards, no time to explain, no time for anything. Yuuri's own guard had hardly a moment to remember who Wolfram now was before the mazoku threw himself inside his bedchamber and slammed the door closed behind him. He braced himself against it as the guards tried to enter, locking it as quickly as he could despite the pounding and shouting on the other side. His body jumped with every hard pound on the wood but the lock held, was built to withstand more. He closed his eyes as he caught his breath, eyes squeezed closed to try and keep it together for just a minute longer.

Seventy years. Alfgeir'sseventy years. It was time that belonged to Trebic. It was part of his own vows, part of his duty, part of his position, part of all the promises made over the course of his married life.

"Wolfram?"

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder as he stared across the room at the sleepy king. Yuuri was sitting up from his bed with their daughter's worried and quizzical face peeking from around him. "Is something happening?" Yuuri asked, flipping the blankets off his legs.

Wolfram turned and took two steps towards the bed before falling to his shaking knees, body trembling so hard it could no longer stand. Yuuri raced from the bed to his side, sliding to the ground to hold his shoulders up and look into his dampening face.

"Wolf?"

"Save me." He didn't care if he was begging, there was no time for pride. It didn't matter if he was a coward this once. His hands clutched at Yuuri's blue sleep shirt, pulling on him in desperation. "Please, save me. I can't do this on my own anymore. We'll do things any way you want, however you think it'll work best, just please save me. I can't go back. We have to stay here, we all have to stay here."

Yuuri pulled him to his chest, holding him close. Wolfram hadn't meant to cry but could not help his eyes from tearing. He was far too close to finally having the family he'd wanted and worked for, much too close to lose it all now to negotiations and inheritance traditions. The guards were still banging heavily at the door with insistence, the chorus of voices added to as presumably the Trebic guard caught up.

"Wolfram... if I knew how to stop all this I..-I would have done it by now..."

The mazoku sobbed, clutching his lover harder. He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted to be with Yuuri. He'd have rather had stayed dead than gotten so close just to lose it all. "You always save the day! You always make things work out! I need you to do it for me this time. Please!"

Yuuri's voice lowered to a whisper against his eat with Greta not far. "Wolfram, what's going on? What's happened?"

"Wolfram! Your Majesty, open this door." It was Gwendal. Someone had woken him.

Wolfram buried his face in Yuuri's shoulder, wanting to tell him everything that was wrong with anything but words. He hid his face for the shame he showed their daughter. So much for not causing her worry.

"Your Majesty, this really is not the time for this." Iorund; of course his own guard had alerted him. A prince consort could not fraternize in other's bedrooms unattended or at night. His behavior no doubt had them curious and on alert.

Yuuri stroked his head gently, cheek resting against his hair. "It's alright, Wolfram. Everything's okay. I'll take care of everything." He pulled away from him slowly with a brief kiss, getting to his feet and walking to the pounding door. He unlocked it and held it open, many angry or concerned faces staring at or past him.

Greta came and took Yuuri's place on the floor, a welcome replacement in Wolfram's arms.

"Really, now," Iorund grumbled as he stood at the front of the scarlet guard in his robe and night shirt. "What is going on at this hour?"

Yuuri stepped towards him, head held high in his best impression of what someone regal and important should look like. "You're a Trebic noble, right? Part of the royal court" he asked.

"I.. yes?"

"I just have to tell you I've slept with Wolfram and intend to remain married to him and that makes it official, right?"

"Your Majesty." Gwendal's tone was on edge. Wolfram couldn't blame him, his own thoughts spinning.

Iorund's round, bearded face went pale. He stuttered for a moment, his bushy eyebrows arcing high on his brow. He took a deep breath as his composure set in, momentary shock subsiding to procedure and protocol. "Regardless of our customs or your actions, a mazoku cannot rule Trebic," he explained. He did not bother disguising his relief or satisfaction in correcting him.

Yuuri smiled just slightly, cocky in his foresight. "Well, lucky for all of us I'm not a full blooded mazoku. My mother is human. I don't guess half breeds are disqualified?"

The slightly panicked, dumbfounded stare returned to the Trebic noble's face. Gwendal glared, eye twitching, furious but silent.

"So I guess that makes me king of Trebic after all," Yuuri stated. He pointed at Iorund. "Get a ship ready. I want to leave as soon as possible. We've got work to do and I need to speak to the other nobles to get everything over and done with in time to be back here for baseball season."

"I... that.."

The Trebic guard saluted Yuuri, their acceptance made clear. Iorund cleared his throat, tucking the sides of his robe in closer around his round belly. "Yes... Your Majesty." Bowing he turned, accompanied by the guard as they presumably made their way to the aviary.

Gwendal did not bother to wait for them to be very far at all before forcibly guiding Yuuri back into his room and slamming the door hard behind them. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Yuuri sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Something impulsive and stupid."

"Yuuri..." Wolfram wiped his eyes, not sure if maybe this too was a dream. "But..we haven't-"

"No one has to know that. I won't say otherwise. Will you?"

Wolfram shook his head.

"Even if you had, this sort of arrangement isn't legal as far as Shin Makoku is concerned." Gwendal loomed over his king, fingers fidgeting in knitting strokes as he chastised him. "You're only married under Trebic law and I will notacknowledge anything like this under these circumstances."

Yuuri turned on his adviser, face serious and eyes harsh. "Don't get in my way, Gwendal. If it has to be legal here too for this to work then we sign whatever paperwork we need to and make it legal."

Wolfram loved it when Yuuri took command but he felt just as confused as he was relieved. "Make what work?"

"Just trust me. I think I almost know what I'm doing. And that's worked pretty well in the past."

I guess the notification didn't work the last time I posted a chapter? Idk. Anyway, there's only maybe… five more chapters left or so. If you thought I was being too mean to Wolfram before, well… surprise? Sorry, kind of been building up to that .

There will be a sequel of sorts when I'm done. No real plot as such yet. Gotten several people asking for an MPREG and I really didn't want to put that in this but as I've never written one before and it sounds like an interesting enough challenge, an optional continuation to this will be one. That way, if you don't like MPREG, you can still enjoy this story without it. Honestly, I'm not a big fan of it myself, but the manga sort of makes it seem canon so I'll give it a go. Not sure there's such a thing as bringing something new to the table but at the very least I can promise no "butt babies".

Anyway, probably won't be done before Christmas but you never know.

~Niko