See notes below.
When he had time to think about it, Wolfram realised that Murata's acceptance of his proposal was compassion, a hand held out in friendship. Murata knew how stifled Wolfram felt in the castle, how unhappy he was to see Yuuri every day. It was no hardship for Murata to allow him to share a bed in the temple.
He sensed that Murata was just as lonely as he was. In various ways, both of them would benefit from the arrangement. And, in return, he fully intended to offer his body, to give, and to receive some type of comfort.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Gwendal had asked while the maids packed up his clothes. He had only a few suits which his mother had made up for him. He couldn't fit into his old clothes even if they weren't hopelessly out of fashion. Sadly, lacy cravats were no longer in style.
"Murata is an honourable man. He is a suitable match," Wolfram had replied. Furthermore, Murata had also accepted of his own free will.
"Is it fair to commit yourself to a marriage because you need some time away? You could stay at my estate."
Wolfram frowned. He had thought about asking that as a last resort. Though, he really didn't want to go far from the capital. But then Murata had walked in, and he'd acted on impulse. It would be reasonable to take it back, but he thought about the way that Murata had looked-so pleased at his proposal. He also thought about how he'd enjoyed Murata's company. He was of age and status-wise there could be no better...after the king.
He said that out loud. "I was engaged to the king, was I not? Why should I have to take second-best after that?" The Great Sage was equal.
Gwendal looked perturbed by Wolfram's response. He instantly regretted phrasing it that way, to his eldest brother of all people. But why not? Everyone would only assume that was the truth. His mother had married for love three times and look how well that had turned out. He'd fallen in love with Yuuri...and that engagement had been no less of a disaster. This was better. It would give him a purpose even if it meant only being the Great Sage's bed warmer for the next year or so; no-one need to feel sorry for him anymore. There was no dishonour in a political match. It had worked well enough for Uncle Waltorana. It worked well enough for most of the aristocrats.
More importantly, when he got better, he knew Murata would not object to him going back into military service. Murata knew what he wanted more than most people. It would not hurt to have the Great Sage as a sponsor in his ambitions. In the end, this was an arrangement that would give mutual benefit.
Yet, as pragmatic as Wolfram had felt in front of his eldest brother, he didn't feel it as keenly as he washed his body in Murata's private baths the first night at the temple.
Wolfram felt a little frightened. He'd never been traditional like his mother or many of the aristocracy, and had been aloof when it came to physical affection. He'd never gone beyond a certain point before and the intimacies he had previous to Yuuri had been basic. In many ways, he wasn't experienced. It made for a pathetic existence. He was over one hundred years old, technically. Only those not interested remained virgins for so long. It was getting quite embarrassing. He knew he wasn't asexual, having a contract with fire and he still dreamt about Yuuri and enjoyed the feel of his hands on his own body. In fact, in growing...and he had grown all over… He looked down at his naked body in embarrassment. His flesh already interested in the direction of his thoughts. He might have to take care of that before he finished because he didn't want to look too enthusiastic.
At any rate, it was all normal for male mazoku sexual development, but it was something that Wolfram was still getting accustomed to since he'd gotten better. He didn't realise that things would become...well, more urgent as he got older. He'd had urges before. But never like this. It was quite confusing.
Despite that, the thought of sharing that intimacy with Murata was quite agreeable. Yet, he was terribly nervous, too-scared even. He'd never do this in any other circumstance. Maybe, it was an avant-garde concept, but he preferred a formal agreement before allowing anyone such liberties.
Later, his body clean, bathed in scented oils, he waited for Murata in his bed naked. The temple was cold and he focused his will, increasing the temperature in the bed linen so it would be warm for Murata.
He dozed for a while and when Murata arrived – looking tired—it took a little while for him to become aware of Wolfram's presence. He watched as Murata removed his robe and put his nightgown on. It was too dark to see much. Murata's hair was down. He had clearly bathed just before.
Murata stilled when he noticed him.
The ritual words came to Wolfram, the right ones for engagement to someone of higher status. He'd tried to use these words with Yuuri, but, back then, much to his shame and...secret relief… Yuuri had run away before they could be said. He'd been so young himself and hardly knew Yuuri at all at the time.
The traditions were out of practice amongst the lower nobility but Wolfram was a Bielefeld, former prince, and he was now engaged to the Great Sage. His pride could not let them go.
He pulled back the covers, revealing his nakedness and lowered his eyes. He could feel himself getting aroused, which was embarrassing but at least Murata would be sure of his sincerity.
"Your Eminence, take my body as a symbol of my love and my respect under this trial of commitment. I am content to please you, under free will, in any way you would have me."
And unlike Yuuri, he knew Murata would know the custom. He waited, still keeping his eyes lowered and he heard Murata sigh and say under his breath, "I'm not a saint." Wolfram had no idea what that meant. Another random Earth term, maybe? So, he waited until the mattress dipped. Murata lifted his chin and he looked up into dark eyes, his glasses removed and in a plain white nightgown, black hair spilling down over his shoulder.
He waited for the words "It would please me to accept the pleasure you give." But, instead, Murata said, ghosting one finger down his cheek softly, "It would please me to give you pleasure. If you would have it, Wolfram. If you would have me?"
It was a question – and Wolfram shivered under the intensity of Murata's gaze down across his body and up again to his face and a thrill went up his spine, a blissful sense of expectation. Murata continued to trace his thumb down his jaw line, downwards across his throat and he found himself shifting his head to give Murata more access. Eager for the touch, it was like his body had been parched and the slight touches were small sprinkles of water and he wanted...needed more.
"Wolfram?" Murata asked again, his voice raspy.
"Yes... it would please me... oh yes," Wolfram said and he whimpered as Murata traced his fingers lower and then shifted under the warm covers with him, moaning in a way he'd sure to be embarrassed about if...he didn't feel so desperate and hot. Wolfram lay on his back and Murata's other hand smoothed his hand up Wolfram's inner thigh.
Murata was gentle and, true to his word, considerate to his pleasure first and foremost. Wolfram had a feeling that Murata had guessed his innocence. Or, maybe he knew. For, very little about his life when he was engaged to Yuuri had remained private. At any rate, he didn't have much time to feel nervous. He didn't even feel any discomfort, like he expected. Murata kept his mind on other things, on more desperately, brilliantly, toe-curlingly, wonderful things. And, before he knew it, they were joined and there was no time for anything other than heat and want and a desperate, sweet desire.
Having sex with Murata was more than agreeable. It was far ahead of agreeable, he thought afterwards, stunned as he gazed up at the bed's canopy dreamily. Murata gentled his body in the aftermath, one arm around him as he gave him whisper soft butterfly kisses across his cheek and then his neck, his body still feeling delightful echoes from before. He turned into Murata's arms, enjoying the feel of his long hair against his skin and his warm body.
Wolfram never once thought of Yuuri.
Year 4065, 17 Abren
Dear Wolfram
I don't know what to say
I can't..
You were right, I am a cheater.
I'm sorry, Wolf. Elizabeth proposed to me and I accepted. I never wanted to hurt you, Wolf. Ever. This is why I haven't written to you in months, I've become closer to Liz. I wish things..
When she slapped me, I didn't immediately accept. I came up to talk to you first. You were well that time. Which was a relief. Murata was reading to you, and when he saw my face, he let me have some privacy. I spoke to you, Wolf. I told you I was a cheater, and that if you knew what was good for you, you would wake up and yell at me, or shoot flames. I wanted nothing more than to see your green eyes. Wolfram, sometimes I forget what they looked like. That hurts more than anything. I see your mother and I think that is what they used to look like. I know the paintings never did you justice
But you didn't wake up. If you were listening, if you were aware then I know you would have, your pride would have you do no less.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't be sorry enough, Wolf.
I love Liz. I do and she's...awake and she laughs and she smiles and she listens to me and she talks to me.
I'm sorry, Wolf. You can't be there for me, and it's not your fault. I know it's not your fault. I know that if you could, you would be here. I know you can't and it's not your fault. You don't deserve this. You deserve a better person, a stronger person. But I can't wait any longer.
I just...can't. And when you wake, you can yell at me all you want, as long as you're awake and whole, you can even hit me. I'm crying here, Wolf. I cried when I told you. I couldn't stop. I miss you so much and...I don't think you're coming back.
I'm so sorry.
I'll never stop loving you. I'm sorry.
Yuuri
The temple healer, Adalia, took over his physical therapy, which now involved carrying weights around the temple grounds. She noticed once when he winced, that annoying sharp pain in his chest.
"Do you feel discomfort?" She asked. She was a much older mazoku than Wilhelm, her eyes keen.
"Sometimes..." He really didn't want his physical therapy to slow down. He was making a little progress now, finally.
"What does it feel like?"
"A bit of a twinge, nothing major." The pain was only fleeting after all.
"Hmmmmm," Adalia said. "It could be a stretched muscle. We might slow down some of the upper body activity for a while."
Wolfram nodded, relieved she hadn't cut down things further.
Other than that, the only thing Wolfram had to do was read. On his own, he had started to sort Murata's documents, mostly out of boredom. Though, at times, some of them were also interesting. But he could only do the work for so long and shortly at that.
It was only mid-afternoon and Murata was at the castle and he had the whole afternoon to while away, and as usual, on the balcony watching the shrine maidens do their exercises.
He had been here less than two weeks.
He didn't think it could get worse than being at the castle...well, at least he wasn't going to run into Yuuri or Elizabeth.
He was testy that night. Sulking, his knees drawn up on the couch rereading the same page over and over and refusing to make any conversation with his fiancé. Murata wasn't thrilled and didn't indulge him for long, going off to do his own thing in the archives. He'd started to recognise some of Murata's moods especially the ones where he was annoyed.
He knew he was acting badly. He knew it was immature, but knowing it didn't stop him from acting out. There was no love-making that night. Though, he'd woken in the pre-dawn hours with Murata's arm around him protectively. So, he guessed he was forgiven somewhat.
That morning, as Wolfram was getting changed, Murata grabbed his hand. There was still half an hour before his therapy with Adalia and Murata had to leave for his first appointment at the castle. "I want to show you something."
He allowed Murata to lead him down the hall, down a flight of steps and then up another and down another hall curving around. He had a feeling this was on the other side of the temple. He'd have to pay attention on his way back else he'd get lost.
He passed by a few maidens who bowed respectfully. He was still getting used to being surrounded by women. They were nothing like the ladies at court. There was no flirting and they were far busier – and...to his embarrassment, he'd found out that being a shrine maiden didn't necessarily mean being chaste.
He wasn't sure if that was strictly within the rules but Murata wasn't bothered by it. On the second day, when he was showing Wolfram about, they'd come across two of the younger members...having a private tryst in a room. Wolfram's jaw had dropped and Murata had quietly closed the door on them. Though, he doubted they would have noticed even if a dragon attacked the temple so wrapped up they were in each other. "Ummm..." Wolfram had said.
Murata had given him a small smile and they continued down the hall, as if this was an everyday occurrence. He never did ask Murata about it. There were some things he just didn't want to know. But, from now on, he wasn't going to go barging into rooms at the temple.
Murata opened a door at the end of the hall. Well, this shouldn't be too hard to forget. It opened to a large, high vaulted room, painted all in white, newish paint. There were two large arched windows flooding the room in brightness, though one was half covered by vines.
"Will have to do something about that," Murata murmured.
What got Wolfram's attention were the items stored there. Along one wall leaned racks of paintings. Next to the door was a large work desk with parchment and drawings. And in the middle of the room was a large canvas on an easel, a stool next to it. The lighting was perfect. Or as perfect as it could be considering the vines.
"This is my studio...or was," Murata said.
Two things Wolfram noticed: First, the room was stuffy, the air stale and there was a fine film of dust on the desk, the floor, and even on the canvas. Second, the room didn't smell like a painter's studio. Wolfram had been in many and had his own at one point. There should be the distinct smell of the paint, derived from animal droppings which would linger for years, decades even. This wasn't the case here.
"This…was your studio?" Wolfram asked. Murata still held his hand and he let go gently, walking in to study the painting that was on the easel. It was almost complete. Compelling, it was a painting of a valley, green but wild like the ones in the parks set aside for the dragons. On one half was a cliff overlooking the valley, the sky grey with a roiling storm in the distance. Looking closer, appreciating the fine strokes and colours, he spied a small figure on the cliff, robes flying back in the wind. The figure was too tiny so there was no way to see who it was. But it seemed forlorn against the storm, insignificant amongst the landscape. Lonely.
"I never got around to finishing that," Murata said in his ear, so caught up in the painting he had forgotten Murata's presence. Without thought, he turned and gave Murata a kiss on the cheek. He froze a little, not sure if he was overstepping his bounds. This wasn't the bedroom. But Murata had only smiled and, in return, kissed him lightly on the tip of one earlobe. Wolfram shivered a little in pleasure.
"I didn't know you painted," Wolfram said, a little flustered.
"I don't...I did a couple of decades ago. It was a hobby I had in a previous life and I thought it would be fun to try it this time around."
"You stopped," Wolfram asked walking over and looking at the ink sketches on the desk, portraits of people he knew, Conrad, one of Greta all gangly legs around when she was thirteen...and one of himself. He was smiling in that one, apparently looking out of the picture at something, or someone. Looking happier than he ever remembered being.
"I got bored with it," Murata said, but the way he said it seemed flat and Wolfram looked at his face, but there was little he could read from Murata's calm expression.
"You're very good," Wolfram said, looking back at the painting on the easel and the ones he could see stacked against the wall. Most of them were landscapes, but there were a couple of portraits of people he didn't recognise.
"I've had a lot of practice. But I don't use this room anymore. So, I thought... You're welcome to use it. I know you liked to paint before."
Wolfram found his hands itching. It would be good to paint again. "I'm not very good at it."
Nobody liked his paintings.
"As long as it makes you happy, that shouldn't matter," Murata said. "And I like your style."
Wolfram gave Murata a faint disbelieving look and then walked over again to the easel and looked down at the equipment next to it. There were different coloured...containers. He assumed they were the pigments, but the smells were different.
"Those are paints from Earth. It's easier on the nose. I have plenty more if you want it. The brand doesn't age well, but I kept a spell on them in the closet in the sitting room." Murata walked around the room as he spoke, his faintly accented voice echoing and his polished black boots heavy on the wood floors. He paused in front of the windows. "You should keep these open. The fumes aren't good in enclosed spaces. I'll get that moved...," Murata turned and gently tapped the canvas. "The vines should be able to be removed by lunch tomorrow. Hilda is good with heights and then you're free to paint. That is...if you want to?" Murata looked at him. He paused next to the large easel, giving Wolfram a hopeful look.
"I think I'd like that. I've been a little bored." Wolfram said ruefully.
"I had noticed," Murata said dryly and gave him a small flirty smile, pushing his glasses up. Wolfram admired the Sage's tall black clad figure, thick dark hair in a tight long braid, collar high and looking immaculate, so cool and calm.
I know what you look like naked, your lips swollen with kisses and your hair down and dishevelled, spread on white sheets. Wolfram thought giddily. And nobody else gets to see that, only me. Just me.
"Thank you."
The next couple of months, Wolfram settled into a routine. Usually, he was asleep just after dusk so he woke up early, most times before the sun had risen over the mountains behind the temple. This had never been the case thirty years ago. If he wasn't in the field, he'd wake hours afterwards.
Things had changed.
Yet, he had to admit, he enjoyed the early morning quiet. The Shrine Maiden guard hadn't started their exercises yet and the early morning prayers could not be heard in the room. So, the room was peaceful, Murata sprawled out next to him.
Sometimes, he'd sit there for while, thinking of nothing in particular, absently stroking Murata's hair. Most times, he'd gently remove Murata's arm and put slippers and a robe on. Then, he'd go down to the sage's private baths and soak for half an hour before returning to bed. By that time, the sun had just come over the mountains and the shrill screams of the shrine drill mistress had started. Murata would sleepily welcome him back with gentle kisses and fondling that would end in lovemaking. By the time they rolled out of bed, Murata for his own morning ablutions and Wolfram to clean himself off, it would be time for Murata's work. Sometimes, there would be an hour or so for Murata to go over some briefing papers, sometimes discussing ideas with Wolfram.
Then, in a flurry, usually late, he'd be off to take the carriage to the castle, escorted by the royal guards. Murata had an aversion to horse riding. Wolfram would go down for his gruelling therapy with Adalia. Next was a quick bath and nap. And at times, if he felt particularly energetic, he'd go down to talk to the horses. Adalia thought he would be fine for riding in another month or so for short trips. And, always, he'd end up in the studio just after midsun, taking advantage of the clear light for a few hours. The painting he was working on was sharp dark lines, angry reds and forbidding greys.
Nobody disturbed him there, not even Murata.
In the afternoon, he would bathe again. He had always been particular about cleanliness. He'd settle down in the sitting room, bare feet, either reading or going over Murata's notes. He was curious about the latest happenings. If business did not keep Murata at the castle overnight...sometimes it did, (more often than Wolfram liked), then his fiancé would return just after dusk. There was dinner and afterwards Wolfram retired to bed. Murata would stay up late working and Wolfram would wake briefly as Murata crawled into bed near midnight or after, with apologetic kisses, before settling next to him for slumber.
Wolfram was still a little bored and frustrated at his tiredness and lack of strength. But, in other ways, he was content, and after the misery in the castle he appreciated it.
So, it was one of those ordinary days just before going to the studio that he got his first visitor.
Elizabeth had not changed at all. Even for a mazoku, she was considered stunning, her long blonde hair flowing, artful spirals framing her delicate face, big, clear purple eyes and flawless skin with a pretty gold diadem with a purple diamond centrepiece sitting under her fringe. The diamond matched her eyes. She was wearing a dark navy uniform, a similar style to what the female healers wore in the regular army.
The only hint of her status was a plain black choker. In comparison, Wolfram felt a little shabby, in his simple green jerkin over a plain, long white doublet with form fitting breeches and hose. He'd barely had time to comb his hair.
As a woman, and the Princess Consort at that, Elizabeth need not have any invitation to the temple. She could come and go as she pleased.
She looked around curiously at the sage's- at their sitting room. Murata's style was eclectic, favouring comfort over fashion, or aesthetics. Most of the pieces of furniture were older items from the castle basement. Wolfram had not felt any shame about that...until now.
"Perhaps, we should have tea out on the balcony," Wolfram suggested politely.
Elizabeth turned to him and smiled attractively. "That would be lovely."
It was a strained affair, at least for Wolfram. Elizabeth held up most of the conversation. About the latest doings of her family, her children, and the squad she had started. Yuuri wasn't mentioned, at all. Not at first.
Wolfram decided to bring it out into the open.
"Why are you here, Elizabeth?"
She stopped, the cup mid-way to her lips. Then, slowly, she lowered it. "I'm here to see you, brother." Wolfram gritted his teeth at their childhood nicknames... "And...I wanted to ask if you could come back to the castle, to visit. I know this is your home now, but..." Elizabeth stopped. Her confidence from before gone.
"Did Conrad and your husband put you up to this?"
Elizabeth flashed him angry eyes, the purple darkening. "No. I'm nobody's messenger. But Yuuri does miss you."
Anger- hot anger and fury.
"Maybe you should have thought of that before you stole Yuuri, sister."
Elizabeth paled...then abruptly stood up, the steel balcony chair screeching backwards and Wolfram flinched.
"You..." She started, her face going red. Elizabeth turned abruptly away from him, grabbing the balustrade. He could see that she was shaking. The hot fury from before was lifting and he was starting to feel...ashamed when Elizabeth whirled on him, hair swirling theatrically.
"You...selfish, self-centred, spoilt brat," she spat out. "I didn't steal Yuuri. We aren't children anymore. This isn't about who gets the pony, Wolf. I didn't... " Elizabeth took another breath. "I've only ever wanted to be a soldier, just like you. Ever wondered why we grew apart? While you were running across the country, serving the king, captain of your own squad I was stuck at my family estate playing sword practice with my father's pompous captain and...doing embroidery in the drawing room."
"But you're hopeless at embroidery," Wolfram said...that was really supposed to be his inside voice.
Eyes flashing dangerously Wolfram could feel the temperatures rise and the tea on the table started to boil. She didn't bother to address what he said. "So, then when my father decided I should marry, seriously this time. I decided to come to the capital. I came to join the Shrine Maidens. At least here, I could do some service. I'm no healer. There was no way I was going to get into the regular army and there was no way I was going to marry some dull noble and play dress-ups."
Elizabeth pushed her hair back irritably. "But Uncle Raven asked me to stay with him for a time, and...I wanted to pay my respects to you...Wolf. Then...I met Yuuri...and... Believe me, I had no intent of things going further, and I certainly would have gone screaming from the castle straight to the temple if I knew what I was getting myself into."
"What you were getting yourself into…?" Wolfram repeated.
There were tears in Elizabeth's eyes, but she was still fired up. "No...that's not true. I would have done it again, for him. But Wolf, I was constantly compared to you." Elizabeth pointed at him. "The hero, the king's first love." She laughed bitterly. "Your brother Gwendal would glare at me all the time, as if I was some wicked queen in one of those story books Yuuri brought for the children, not to mention the twit von Christ fawning over Yuuri every second and constantly extolling how amazing you were, the former betrothed."
"What," Wolfram said, surprised.
"And the public...the people they-" Elizabeth stopped abruptly. Her hand going to her mouth. There was a moment of silence, and then another as Elizabeth wiped away angry tears. "I...wanted to make things easier, to get you back to talking to Yuuri again and for us to be friends, Wolf. I guess I've ruined it."
Wolfram felt sympathetic tears in his eyes. Both of them had always been quite emotional. It's why they clashed so much.
"Elizabeth-"
"But I'm not sorry for loving Yuuri, not at all. I'm sorry because...of what happened...but not for my feelings. I love him, Wolf, and he loves me." With a shaky breath Elizabeth turned to go.
"Elizabeth...stay." She stopped and turned back, a look of wary hope. "No...I should be going, I have an appointment."
It had been a long time since he had considered Elizabeth a friend. They had grown apart and not once had he ever thought about why, so caught up in his own world. He was self-centred. He always knew that. He was still angry with what had happened and terribly sad. But, maybe, it was time to get beyond that, to at least try. Maybe he could get to know Elizabeth again.
It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
"Then, some other time you can visit?"
Elizabeth nodded and smiled, a very slight smile escaped Wolfram in return. "Will you come to the castle, Wolfram?"
I don't know.
"I'll think about it."
Murata got back early that afternoon, at least two hours before sunset. A rare enough occurrence that Wolfram suspected that he knew about Elizabeth's visit...though he said nothing.
Nor did Wolfram, not at first.
He was curled up in his usual chair, reading one of General Sebastion von Karbelnikoff's books on the strategy on a few famous battles of the era, when he heard Murata tapping his pen on the desk, an irritating staccato that didn't let up. Murata was annoyed at something.
Wolfram got up and wandered over, curious.
Murata twisted his finger in his braid and placed his head on the desk dramatically. Wolfram smiled, the Sage had become much more open around him lately. "It's the old Walsham River dispute," said Murata morosely, his voice muffled by the desk. "It's raised its ugly head once more."
"The one from up north of Bielefeld, near one of the human borders?"
"The very same." Murata raised his head and gave him an annoyed look. Without thought, Wolfram placed his hand on Murata's nape, thumb circling lightly in comfort.
Wolfram dimly recalled something about the Walsham River causing conflict before, going back a few generations...mazoku generations. One of the minor mazoku lords had been dumping waste from their mills into the river, which fed into a major tributary for the agricultural plains of the human lands. Every now and again, floods would wash out the refuse which had been heretofore stagnating in the shallows and devastate crops. Suffice it to say, the humans weren't too happy about this.
"If that lord was doing the same here, the Maou would have cut his family down aeons ago," Wolfram commented and Murata nodded grimly, pulling his glasses off and chewing on one arm of the frame. He pulled his head to one side to encourage Wolfram's small rubdown. "I do remember some reports from earlier on the subject." Wolfram wrinkled his forehead, thinking, bringing his other hand to rub the back of Murata's neck. He did that for a few minutes before Murata gently batted his hand away and turned in his chair, looking up at Wolfram tiredly.
"Shibuya wants to finally come to some resolution on the issue. He's been petitioned by the human envoy from the area and relations have become quite...strained. The local lord has been called to account in a week's time, but I'm finding it difficult to find any precedent for forcing his hand. Between the upcoming bi-annual budget and the arrangements for the newborn's ceremony I'm running out of time."
"Do you want me to have a look," Wolfram offered. "I'm not familiar with the archive classification in the temple, but if you show me around before you leave tomorrow morning I can give it a try. I'm able to read high old mazoku." There was always some interesting material in the older records and Wolfram had practice doing research when he'd been betrothed to Yuuri. Gwendal had insisted, to be groomed as consort. He'd found it...more interesting than he thought, not as exciting as going out on patrol, but his mind relished the challenge.
Murata gave him a grateful look. "That would be a kindness. I'll show you the section which stores the documents from 2000 onwards and introduce you to Stina, her specialty is theology but she's good with the classifications. Lord von Christ is focusing on the archive at the castle, but if there isn't anything there..."
Wolfram nodded, understanding. A lot of the castle records were moved to the temple during the war, to be kept under Shinou's protection if the capital was ransacked.
He sat down at the other chair on the side and said quietly to Murata.
"Elizabeth came today."
Murata nodded, not saying anything.
"She asked that I go visit the castle. She wants me to talk to His Majesty."
"Maybe that isn't such a bad idea, Wolfram. That is...if you want to assist the king in the future."
"Go back to the meetings?" Though it was more a confirmation than a question.
Murata nodded. "With this Walsham River dispute, Lord von Christ and I have a special meeting to go over it in two days time with Shibuya. It would be valuable for you to be there...for the research." Murata gave him a questioning look.
He took a deep breath.
"What is on the agenda?" And Murata smiled and picked up his hand and kissed it.
Which is why Wolfram found himself in Yuuri's private reference room two days later, grateful for having a place to sit after the rushed walk across the castle. After the meeting, Yuuri had asked him here, and...Wolfram had agreed. Murata had lingered a little to put together his documents and then had invited Günter to the library to go over some points they had discussed at the meeting.
"I'll meet you mid afternoon then, at the library?" Murata had said and Wolfram nodded.
There was a moment of silence when everyone had left the main meeting room. "Oh." Yuuri hit his head. "There was something...I have to show you, and it's back at my rooms. I forgot it. Do you mind coming?
Of course not. He'd walked across the length of the castle down two long corridors, doing his best to keep up with Yuuri, whose stride was long and eager. Yuuri was tall, just a little shorter than Gwendal, not like Murata who was the same height as Wolfram. Wolfram was grateful for his walking cane.
When they had arrived at Yuuri's rooms, Wolfram had found himself slowing down. He didn't...he didn't want to face going back there. Yuuri turned and looked at him with a frown, stopping for a second.
"My reference room was moved to Greta's old room." He pointed to a door on the other side. "To make way for the nursery. Would you like to wait in there while I go grab the...I won't be long."
Walking at that pace for that long had taxed his limits and he was afraid of that pain coming back. It was beginning to worry him, he stretched he legs out under the reference room's large oak table.
Perhaps he should mention it to Murata.
The door opened, and there was Yuuri. His emotions were back on his face, just like the old Yuuri he had known. "Sorry I took a little bit of time...a messenger came. It never ends." Yuuri grimaced.
He sat down at the corner of the table, next to Wolfram and started talking, nervously.
"There was talk of having another ceremony, but...I don't know. I'd thought I'd ask you first." And Yuuri handed him a case.
"Your Majesty?" He asked, and Yuuri gave him a plaintive look.
"Open it."
Inside was a black medal, the Maou's Cross.
"Yuu- Your Majesty...this-"
"It's yours. For your services at the Battle of Abney. It has your name inscribed on the back.
The Maou's Cross, the most prestigious medal any soldier could be bestowed. And many of those who did received it posthumously.
"I don't deserve this." Wolfram blinked his eyes, willing away tears. "I wasn't the only one, not on that day. I did no more or less than any other soldier on that field."
There was a pause. Wolfram rubbed his thumb absently along the rim of the case using the opportunity to rein in his emotions. This was the quietest part of the castle, and the silence was palpable.
"I didn't want you to have it, either," Yuuri admitted.
Wolfram looked up.
"Not because you weren't brave and not because you didn't go above your duty. I read the accounts of your men, Wolfram. It was you who motivated them, and you didn't have to...and putting yourself in harm's way for them...and for me. I didn't want this... because it was a poor replacement for having you with me."
"Yuuri-"
"All those years watching you sleep. All I wanted was to have you back. All I wanted was to see you open your eyes. I would plead with Shinou at night, to bring you back. To heal you. I'd have given up being king, my powers...I'd have given up everything for you to wake up."
"You're the king. Don't be an idiot," Wolfram said, but his voice was gentle. "You're more important."
Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. "No...not for me. Not back then."
Back then.
"But, it's changed now, Wolf. It had to change and I accepted that. It was a moment in time. It was so difficult, so hard. Then, Liz came. She understood and it wasn't that long that we became close.
Wolfram closed his eyes. It was hard to hear Yuuri's confession, but he couldn't begrudge Yuuri that need for comfort. Being away at the temple, having time to think about things and Elizabeth's visit had changed how he felt. It still hurt, but it was more like a dull ache that flared up every now and again instead of a burning stab of anger, hurt, and sorrow. Hopefully, one day, the ache would go away altogether, but he didn't think he'd ever forget.
"That moment we had before was real. I loved you. Wolfram, you were my first in my heart then. You were everything. It's…over now, but I loved you and being engaged to you was one of the best moments in my life. I want you to believe that. If nothing else."
Yuuri looked him in the eye, so desperate for Wolfram to accept what he was saying.
Wolfram inhaled a deep shaky breath.
"I know...Yuuri."
"I'm glad."
"What?" said Wolfram confused a little.
"You're calling me by my name again. I want us to be friends, Wolf. I missed you so much over the years, and for you to be here now… It's just, I missed you."
"Yeah, well." Wolfram shrugged and he snapped the case close and placed it on the desk. He didn't know what to say and was surprised with what he did. "I never got the farewell kiss." His voice came out petulant. It was custom when a betrothal ended that the higher rank would give a public kiss, a public ending. Yet, this wasn't in public and the dissolution of their engagement had happened without shame because of his illness.
Yuuri looked at him gravely with a long assessing gaze. For a minute there Wolfram had thought he'd ruined things. He hadn't planned to say that. But, maybe, that was a lie. He wanted one more kiss.
Yuuri leaned forward and Wolfram had a moment of panic. This was wrong, this was...it was a chaste kiss on the lips, simple and sweet. He doesn't smell right. There was no scent of incense which permeated the temple, and the dusty smell of papers and ink he'd grown to like. Yuuri smelt of the outdoors, leather and...perfume, Elizabeth's favourite.
This is wrong. A tear fell down his face as Yuuri placed his hand on his cheeks and kissed his forehead. But, perhaps, this wasn't such a bad idea at all. Wolfram took another shuddering breath as Yuuri enveloped him in a hug, still smelling wrong but it was Yuuri, his king, his friend, and he'd always love him.
The hug ended and Yuuri pulled away and Wolfram lowered his head and rubbed one eye.
"I'm glad about you and Murata," Yuuri said in a low rough voice. "Although, at first, I was jealous. Which was unfair."
"Murata is a good friend," Wolfram said stiffly. "He has been very kind. I have grown to care for him. It's been a satisfactory alliance."
Yuuri gave him an odd smile.
"Oh, Wolf. Have a care. Murata loves you."
"Loves me?" Wolfram said, surprised and gave Yuuri an incredulous look.
"Well, yeah!"
Yuuri must be mistaken. He had always been sentimental about marriage and betrothal, even all these years being amongst the mazoku aristocracy and marrying Elizabeth didn't help. In fact, it was the opposite. She was also overly-romantic (it had been the same with their own engagement). But it wasn't a common thing amongst their class.
But if that's what Yuuri thought, then Wolfram wasn't going to disabuse him of the notion.
Murata was a good friend and trusted ally and that was what he needed the most.
Murata found him at the window seat at one of the alcoves. Getting back had been tiring, and predictably the pain had troubled him and he'd had to stop for a rest. It had been a long day.
"You walked all the way to Shibuya's suite." Murata's voice was deceptively mild as ever but Wolfram could sense the disapproval. He was starting to get good at reading Murata's tone.
"Yuuri gave me a medal." He held the case up. And he kissed me goodbye.
Leaning on his cane he tried to get up. Pain blossomed in his chest and he faltered for a second, trying and failing to cover it up he sat back down heavily. He refused to see Murata's disappointment. He looked out the window, the pain had gone as suddenly as it had appeared. The shadows below were lengthening. He thought of their rooms back at the temple. He didn't want any drama. He just wanted to go home.
Murata sat down next to him.
"You've overdone it." The voice was mild again and he pulled Wolfram back against him, his back flush against Murata's chest, arms coming around his waist.
"How long have you had the pain," he breathed into Wolfram's ear. The words were clipped and short like sharp pebbles, but it was softened when Murata's hand went up and pulled one strand of hair back from his face, stroking tenderly, absently.
Wolfram relaxed as Murata's hands stroked his shoulders, and down onto his chest.
"After I started walking, but it's been getting worse...I thought it was because I've been working harder." And Wolfram realised that Murata's hand that was circling his chest around his heart was probing, scanning his body as healers did.
Murata's hand stopped, just over his heart for a moment and it felt warm.
"You'll need to tell me everything."
Wolfram sat down on the bed, feeling better after a soak, even if it was just the portable bath that Murata had ordered the servants to bring up. He looked over the unfamiliar room. This was Murata's guest room, the place he stayed at the castle when work kept him late and almost as messy as their residence at the temple. Medical and diplomatic books were overflowing everywhere.
"I spent almost all my nights here before we got engaged," Murata said. He was changing into his nightgown. There was still light outside. Murata had decided they would stay here tonight and Wolfram had no energy to argue, still feeling raw from the talk with Yuuri. Murata wanted to consult with Wilhelm on his health and he'd sent a messenger requesting Gisela's attendance. His rehabilitation had been cancelled.
Wolfram knew that Murata was worried. What he'd discovered when he probed his chest, he didn't know and he'd not asked. Murata was in the habit of keeping his opinions to himself until he was sure of the facts, and Wolfram didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to be afraid.
Sinking into the mattress, Murata pushed him down and Wolfram curled around Murata, warm, steady, and solid.
Murata turned his head and kissed his cheek, and then down to his mouth, Murata's tongue hot and seeking entrance and Wolfram allowed it, his body melting. It felt good and he enjoyed it as Murata slid his hand down his back. Murata was hard against his thigh.
Wolfram pulled away. "I'm afraid I'm...not quite up to this now," he said in embarrassment. "But I'm happy to please you." He stroked his hand down Murata's chest and stomach and his hand was stilled, gently.
"No, I'll be fine. Besides, it's good to have a break from your enthusiasm." Murata teased him.
Wolfram felt his face heating up, slapping Murata's shoulder lightly.
"I can't help it that I've reached bloom," he said referring to the general usage for mazoku sexual development." He wanted to pull the blanket over his head. For all the things they had done together, they had hardly spoken about sex at all. Murata had not seemed to mind.
"And," he muttered weakly. "I'm still catching up."
Murata seemed to be laughing at him, his eyes in the candle light amused but not unkind. He kissed Wolfram lightly. "And to think you have another two decades before you hit the peak and at least two more before you settle down, not to mention your affinity for fire." Yes, he was a fire elemental user, which would ratchet up his desire considerably. There was a good reason why most fire elementals waited until much later to marry.
"Well, you'd better do your best to keep up for the next fifty years." The last few words came out a bit weak and he laughed nervously. He was being presumptuous, for not all betrothals would end in marriage and Murata knew why he'd proposed.
But Murata did not miss a beat. "I'm looking forward to it. I have countless ideas to keep your attention." And despite his tiredness Wolfram shivered as Murata gave him another lingering kiss. "But, for now, I think sleep is good."
Perhaps it is too early, but I think I'm falling in love with you. I don't think you feel the same. Please don't hurt me. I couldn't bear it a second time was his last thought before sleep as Murata rested his hand gently on his heart.
Wolfram was on that hill again, but this time his mind was much sharper.
"I remember this," he said.
"I hoped you would, eventually." He turned to find Shinou behind him.
"Still interfering in mortal lives?"
Shinou shrugged unapologetically. "I want to show you something."
The scene changed, and they were in that room, the one he'd vowed never to go into again.
Wilhelm was sponging down his arms, pale and still on the bed. This time, his hair was long, nobody had cut it for a while. There was a tube down his throat, a feeder, just as Wilhelm had described to him later. And there was a needle in his arm to keep him hydrated which connected to a clear bag full of fluid hanging above. He'd remembered them vaguely when he had awoken. Human technologies, which Murata had brought from earth in combination with mazoku healing techniques, to keep him whole enough over the years.
Wilhelm looked up as if to greet someone and Wolfram turned to see Murata at the door, a stack of books in his hands.
"How is he?"
"Well, it's almost time to put him back into stasis. He's developed some bed sores which are becoming harder to heal. In stasis, we'll be able to make a thorough job of it. We'll also need to talk about muscle deterioration later."
Murata nodded, grim faced.
"That was your daily reality," Shinou said in his ear and Wolfram jumped, having forgotten Shinou. "You're lucky you were the king's fiancé, most loved. You had the best care anyone could get. Even mazoku have limits when it comes to illness. Of course, my Sage was also determined to keep you as well as was possible."
"When is this?"
"A year before you woke up. It is fortunate you woke when you did. Your body was reaching its limits. Only a few years before, you had an ugly bout of pneumonia, which is common for those with your affliction and it took all of Gisela and Murata's skill to heal you." Shinou pointed to his still body. "I'd doubt you'd have survived another infection. Towards the later years, only two people had kept faith that you would wake up."
As he said this, Wilhelm finished up and washed his hands in a basin.
"I'll see you tomorrow." Wilhelm nodded to Murata and, with a smile, the nurse was gone.
Murata put the books down on the table and turned to regard Wolfram for a moment. "You are most troublesome," he said, but the tone was affectionate. Murata walked over and pushed aside some strands of blond hair clear from his forehead. Fingering one strand slowly, he bent over and pressed his lips to his forehead in a chaste kiss.
"Evening, dearest Wolfram."
I remember, Wolfram thought, the ghost of Murata's lips on his brow.
Then, Murata sat down, pulled his books out, along with ink and quill, and started his work. But this wasn't the silent Murata he'd seen working before. The Sage spoke the whole time, about his day, his work. He spoke to Wolfram as if he were listening, like a close friend. "Riki turned six today," Murata said to him after he'd set aside his quill. "Lord Weller gifted him with a sword, and Riki was ecstatic. He wants to be a great warrior, like you. Shibuya has told him all about you, you know. Well, you do know. I've told you before."
Murata pulled out a book, and settled himself next to Wolfram on that chair and started reading out loud the story, an epic tale from the early days, and Murata's hand reached out and held Wolfram's hand in his. He looked over his body, so pale and unresponsive. But he could remember that, more than once. How often did Murata come in and read to him, holding his hand just like that.
"Have a care. Murata loves you."
"Why are you showing me this?"
"Just watch," Shinou responded.
Murata finished the chapter and sighed, pulling his glasses off onto his lap, still holding Wolfram's pale hand.
"If you awake...no when you awake, it's not going to be easy. I don't think you'll be happy about Shibuya's decisions... But, maybe, you will understand in time. He was lonely. I hope you come to forgive him for that. It's not easy to see the one you love most right there, but forever out of reach, not being able to touch them or...share a life with them. Shibuya still loves you. He'll always love you..." Murata smiled down at him. "You are very easy to love." The look Murata gave him was unmistakable.
Wolfram gasped out loud as realisation hit him.
"Yes," Shinou said. "He always loved you, probably before even the king did, but he was always good at hiding his feelings."
With a start, Wolfram woke up. He was in bed, Murata's arm still resting across his chest, the Sage's face deep in slumber. He pulled the Sage's arms aside slowly and got out of bed.
Wolfram needed to get away, to clear his head. There was a small and familiar pain in his heart, but he ignored it.
His mind was in turmoil. Murata had known he'd recover. He was the only one who had been absolutely certain. And Murata had loved him, loved him before he'd gotten ill.
And he'd never told Yuuri. He had watched as Yuuri had gotten closer to Elizabeth and not said a word.
Murata had said it was because he didn't want Yuuri to have hope, and Wolfram had accepted that. Now, he wasn't so sure. Shinou's dream had changed everything.
The twinge in his heart bloomed into pain and he bent over, holding onto a chair to find breath until the sharp pained passed. It had always done so before.
Straightening, he quietly got dressed. He needed some time alone, to think. He'd take one of the horses at the stable and ride up to the sacred hill. He'd be there in time for dawn and, perhaps, that would calm his thoughts. It had worked before, all those years when he'd been mad at Yuuri, and before, during the war when the world had gone crazy.
By the time he'd made it up to the tree, the pain had come back. Distant. Perhaps he ought not to have pushed his body so far, so quickly. But the ride had been effortless, the skills coming back to him so easily; if it wasn't for his inner turmoil, he would have loved it. He tethered the horse to a low branch on the tree and looked down at the city. It was still dark, but the sky had turned to grey.
He would wait until dawn before returning. By then, he should feel a little better.
It was about half an hour later that he spied the horse coming up the hill, the rider was wearing a brown cloak. But he knew it could only be one of a handful of people and the way the rider sat awkwardly gave him the first clue. Murata had a gift for locating people, perhaps it was Shinou whispering in his ear or some other ability Wolfram didn't know about – but it had led him here.
Wolfram found himself too tired to raise much ire.
Stiffly, Murata got off the horse, pulling the dark brown cloak from his face, his long black hair falling forward, he hadn't even tied it back. Wolfram didn't acknowledge him. A few steps and Murata stopped and looked at him, the sun just breaking behind him.
"Where you sit is where Shinou made his contract with the Maou," Murata said in a strange tone.
"Oh, let me guess. You're going to tell me how much I look like him. It's not like anybody else has," Wolfram said bitterly.
Murata cocked his head, paused, and sat next to him, looking down and out at the city as the sun poked its way over the hills.
"It's true. You look very much like him. But you are a very different person," Murata confirmed quietly.
"Is that why you want me? Because I look like him?" Wolfram said.
Murata inhaled loudly but did not answer him. Wolfram turned his head to see Murata's expression but the sun was now fully glinting off his glasses. There was another moment of silence.
"Why did you take off without telling anyone where you were, Wolfram? This isn't good for you. I was worried."
There were about five hundred things Wolfram could have responded with.
"Shinou told me how long you've pined after me."
"Ah," Murata said quietly and there was no denial.
"Is that why you kept me alive, why you never told Yuuri I would wake up? Why we're engaged and why I share your bed?"
Wolfram couldn't help the hysterics in his voice and he clutched his chest as the pain struck again.
"You proposed to me. You offered to be my lover," Murata pointed out, his voice still calm. It made Wolfram even more furious. He wanted to shake the Sage.
"Of course, where else could I have gone?" and he turned fully to Murata, wanting to see his expression.
Murata took his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a second. When he opened them he looked at Wolfram. There was a desperate, raw look there.
"I can only tell you the truth. I loved you for a long time. Though, I did not know it till much later. Wanted you longer, yes. It was because you looked like Shinou. It's what drew me to you originally. But it wasn't that which made me fall for you."
"What was that?" Wolfram asked, desperate for the truth.
"Because of your passion. Because you love life, and Shin Makoku, and painting, and horse riding and your family, all those things so intensely and without shame. Because you loved Shibuya so, and you wore it on your face and didn't care to bother what anyone else thought. I loved you for that. I love you still for that. That passion is something...I was drawn to. It was something that I'd lacked for so long and being around it, it made me feel it again. You made me feel alive. You made me feel like living." Murata's face twisted a little at the end. So very un-sage like.
"I loved Yuuri...I still love Yuuri," Wolfram said. Pointing out one of the things Murata had said, using it as a weapon because he wanted someone else to hurt as much as he did. Sometimes, the best defence was an offence. Though, it was far too late to shield his heart.
Murata looked down. Perfect score. Wolfram suddenly hated himself but didn't want to relent.
"Yes. I know...I know." Murata repeated again. "I would not have come between you. I fully expected you both to wed and I would have been happy for you both." Murata's voice regained some semblance of calm. "I expected to sanctify your union. But fate had other ideas. Wolfram, I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry that you lost all those years."
"You could have told him," Wolfram said furiously, his voice getting gruff with grief, and he put his hand to his chest as the pain starting to bother him.
"I..." Murata voice was strained. "Perhaps I should have."
"Have a care, Wolf. Murata loves you."
"He always loved you"
"You really love me…?" Wolfram said in a whisper.
"Yes." Murata gave him a quirky smile. "More fool me."
The pain struck in force, sharper than ever before, like fire and all Wolfram could do was gasp, his hands over his chest. He looked down and saw a ghostly sword plunged into his ribs, his clothes blood-soaked as the older memory came to him. He looked up, expecting to see the enemy soldier, a snarl on his lips but, instead, there was Murata saying something and clutching his shoulders. He fell forward bonelessly, his head on Murata's shoulder and he could faintly feel the arms around him, Murata's long hair on his cheek. Things were greying, becoming vague and distant.
"Murata..." he called, and the pain stopped and darkness took him.
End Part 2
Note: As you may have spied, a scene in this chapter was inspired by toshimalfoy from her lovely story 'Whispers in the Rye'
Other KKM stories can be found off-site with links from my profile!