Yuuri was sure he was going to die. He resigned himself to that. Conrad was rushing toward him, but he was more than sixty feet away, as per baseball regulation. There was no one else near the cart but the maids. Even if he'd been a competent warrior, he wasn't armed with anything but his glove. He heard Wolfram shriek his name and somewhere, in the strange calm of his mind as he faced death, he was sorry Wolfram had to see.
Yuuri's senses were all out of whack. He heard a cry and a gruesome shattering noise, a sickening sound for all the world like splintering wood, a scream, a splatter… The horrible sounds assailed his ears, followed by the scent of blood in the air. But it was an achingly long moment before he realized that Wolfram had jumped the three stories from the balcony to the yard and landed between Yuuri and his assassin.
Wolfram collapsed against Yuuri, eyes sliding closed as he went limp. The dagger glimmered in his chest, buried to the hilt. A thin stream of blood trickled from his mouth. Blood seemed to be everywhere, on the neat stones lining the courtyard, on Yuuri's hands as he struggled to support Wolfram, all over the immaculately white painting smock he was so fond of.
Yuuri was vaguely aware that Doria had driven a broom handle into the assailant's skull, Sangria ad kicked him in the ribs, and Lasagna was sitting on his chest pounding his nose to a pulp. He was sort of glad, in a distant way, but his attention was taken up elsewhere. He dropped to his knees, unable to support the deadweight that was his fiancé.
Yuuri stared down at Wolfram in shock. He should be getting help. He couldn't deal with this alone, though his hands were already thrumming with the glow of power as he threw all the healing energy he could muster into Wolfram's body. He meant to yell for Giesela, but his throat wouldn't quite work as he looked at the paling cheeks. Wolfram's eyelids had been fluttering for a while, those luxurious lashes battering against the lordling's cheeks, but gradually they slowed. Too still. He was entirely too still, and Yuuri was afraid to touch the knife for fear of ripping out Wolfram's heart in his attempts to heal. That poor heart had been through enough.
Was his pulse slowing? Yuuri hadn't paid the closest attention to first aid class. He could feel Wolfram's heartbeat below his fingers. What was it supposed to be?
Pressure stopped bleeding... but he didn't really dare apply any. His hand slid to cover the wound the best he could without dislodging the knife, fingers resting gently. Yuuri wasn't great at healing magic. He was much better at sending dragon-shaped water-golems to destroy things. But he tried, feeling exhaustion steal over him as he fed more and more of his power into Wolfram. He was forcing it, tiring himself not only with the loss of energy but the very act of driving the power out faster and stronger than he was used to, in a form he wasn't gifted at, and into an odd receptacle.
In truth, it was only a few seconds before Conrad reached the two, Josak relieved the maids (which disappointed them—apparently beating villains senseless was a pleasure they seldom got to satisfy), and half the castle had rushed out onto the lawn. Giesela was among the first to emerge. She was barking orders left and right, perfectly comfortable. Yuuri would have admired her if he'd been free.
As it was, he was having his arms pried from around Wolfram by Gunter, who was panicking because Yuuri had managed to splatter himself with almost as much blood as had stayed on Wolfram. The frantic cries of "Your Majesty!" finally pulled Yuuri back to himself, and he let Gunter pull him to his feet as Wolfram was loaded onto a stretcher, appallingly pale and still as stone.
Yuuri's eyes followed Wolfram as he was carried away, a few stray tears escaping, tracing furrows through the blood splashed on his cheeks. But he managed an answer. "I'm... f-fine. It's Wolfram's." He stood stiffly in Gunter's relieved hug. Somewhere, in a strange corner of his mind, it occurred to him that the blood would never come out of Gunter's white robes. As soon as Gunter let go, and half a dozen others also had to assure themselves he was alright (Yuuri wasn't sure who... probably Conrad, at least) he tried to speed after Giesela. Maybe he couldn't help, but it was his fault.
His fault. Wolfram had taken the knife for him. And, come to think of it, jumped three stories. It was worse than when Conrad had lost his arm. At least there'd been an understanding, however slow Yuuri was to accept it, that Conrad had sworn himself to laying down his life for the Maou. Wolfram... Wolfram was supposed to defend his king in a general sort of way, but his only sworn duty was as Yuuri's fiancé.
Wolfram loved him. Yuuri had never quite accepted that before, but now it could no longer be denied. And for that he'd been stabbed in the heart. Yuuri might as well have done it himself.
But when he tried to run after them, to stand by Wolfram however useless he might be, he fell again. Yuuri saw stars. He hadn't realized how much he'd weakened himself.
"Here, your Majesty, come with me. He's in good hands." Josak pulled Yuuri to his feet, lending a steadying arm. "Let's get you a cup of tea, hmm? Giesela will have him back to whining and trying to seduce you by tomorrow." He smiled kindly, but what kept Yuuri from trying to run off after Wolfram again had a lot more to do with the massive, powerful arm holding him in step with the devoted warrior.
Yuuri was forcibly marched into the kitchen and served tea and biscuits of some kind by three suddenly bloodthirsty housemaids, who divided their time about equally between cooing gently to the obviously bereaved monarch and regaling each other with their increasingly heroic exploits.
Later, they'd make a variety of changes to the established odds in the royal love pool. Wolfram was shooting ahead.
As soon as Josak relaxed his vigilance, taken up instead by Sangria's cookies, Yuuri slunk out of the kitchen, hurrying the best he could to Wolfram's bedroom. Hurrying was a relative term. His legs were still shaky, and his head swam if he tried to shift too quickly. He hesitated to knock, standing across the hall from the door. If he interrupted Giesela… It hadn't been very long. He might put Wolfram in more danger. Or the danger might already be over… for the worst of reasons. Wolfram had been stabbed in the heart. He was an accomplished Mazoku warrior, but Yuuri knew for a fact he wasn't immortal, and it seemed you'd have to be to survive that.
As he stood, trying to talk himself into knocking, Giesela stepped out of the room, sighing. She looked even more exhausted than Yuuri, her face white as a sheet but for dark circles under her eyes. She didn't look like she'd slept in days. Yuuri had a vague memory of seeing her chipper and her usual scary self earlier.
Yuuri opened his mouth to ask, but she cut him off with a very tired smile. "He'll live." She walked across the hall, very wearily but not as unsteadily as Yuuri, and patted him fondly on the shoulder. "You saved him, Your Majesty. The knife was coated in a nasty poison. If you hadn't shot him full of power, it would have spread through his body in seconds."
"He only got hurt because of me." Yuuri sniffed, and Giesela waited patiently for him to regain himself. "Is he... healed?"
"Oh, no, that'll take days, even with my best efforts." She sighed apologetically. "I'm doing my best, but while he's stable, Wolfram is... in pieces." She smiled awkwardly, as though trying not to laugh and knowing it wasn't funny. "He broke both legs when he hit the ground. In a couple of places. He dashed his head on the railing when he jumped, and managed to sprain his sword arm twice vaulting over, as far as I can tell. The dagger missed his heart, but only by a fraction, and even with your help, the poison complicates things. A few days of bed rest, with all my work and maybe one of Anissina's new toys, and he should be functioning again. Until then... I'm afraid your treasured fiancé is out of commission." She wasn't too tied to tease.
Yuuri nodded sadly. At least Wolfram would be alright. As long as he consented to bed rest for a few days, which was disturbingly unlikely. "Can I see him?"
"Oh, he's awake. And complaining." Giesela barely managed to conceal an eye-roll. "Go ahead and visit a little." She stepped aside, holding the door.
Yuuri walked in shyly. Wolfram's eyes were open. Yuuri was struck very, very hard by how afraid he'd been never to see those dangerous, beguiling eyes again. Beyond that, he looked much as he had when Yuuri had last seen him, unmoving and pallid.
"Wolfram?" His voice didn't rise above a timid whisper.
"Wimp," came the readily anticipated response, weak and hoarse, but unquestionably Wolfram, alive and as close to well as could reasonably be expected. "How humiliating. To have a fiancé so weak he needs rescuing from a human child with a knife." Wolfram stopped for a weak cough. "And then to be rescued by him."
"I'm sorry, Wolfram. I'm so glad you're getting better." Yuuri paused to wipe away another stray tear. He realized as his hand brushed dried blood that he was still filthy. Wolfram was sure to be revolted. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Hmm, since someone was stupid enough not only to approach an assassin but to force a Maou's worth of healing power into me, not bad." His head turned slowly, and Wolfram's eyes met Yuuri's. He actually started to smile, which made Yuuri really think he was suffering.
"You shouldn't have done that, Wolfram. It should be me on that bed." Without the broken legs and cracked skull. Though perhaps with a lot more poison rushing through his bloodstream.
"It's my duty to protect my king and my beloved fiancé." His eyes closed for a moment, before opening halfway again. "Yuuri." It was a ghostly smile, but a smile it undeniably was. Yuuri checked to be sure he was only asleep, his heart seemed to freeze in his chest in the moments between Wolfram dozing off and checking his pulse. Weak, but there. And in another moment he was snoring almost as loudly as ever.
It had been an exhausting hour, and Yuuri had nothing left in him after he made sure Wolfram was alive. He sat beside the bed and immediately fell asleep against it, his head resting beside Wolfram's as he dosed. When Giesela returned five minutes later, she dropped a blanket over his shoulders with a smile and went on with her work. Later, Gunter wandered by and was mildly scandalized, but for the Maou and his fiancé, a trying day was over.