Chapter 11
"Love and magic have a great deal in common.
They enrich the soul, delight the heart.
And they both take practice"
- Anonymous
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"Yuuri!" Wolfram shouted as he dove blindly into the thick, green brush where he knew the double black had been hiding.
Conrad had caught the sound of the rushed footsteps early on and had drawn his sword, but held back when he heard his brother call for Yuuri in his typically desperate, determined way.
Within seconds, Wolfram was at Yuuri's side with Yozak following up behind looking a little put out at the rash actions of the blond.
"I-I'm fine," Yuuri said, feeling embarrassed. He tilted his face down to the ground with the feeling that he didn't deserve Wolfram's sudden concern. But a part of him was relieved, (Or was "blessed" a better term? he wondered) for the rush of emotions that the blond had for him.
Standing next to Yuuri with a hand on his shoulder, Wolfram's milky-green eyes scanned the darkness. "We have to get out of here," Wolfram said in a rushed voice. "They know…" He was steering the double black away by the shoulder when Tra'va started yelling at him in a panicked voice. Wolfram hissed impatiently, body antsy with the need to get Yuuri some place safe, but he could understand the spirit's point. "Where's the sage?" Wolfram said bluntly to Conrad, who seemed to be distracted. His brown eyes were searching the inky background just as he had moments ago.
"Murata? He had to go." Yuuri pointed in the direction.
"Go?" Wolfram said incredulously. They needed to get out of here. Now!
"You know…" Yuuri said with a motion of his head towards the place they'd last seen Murata. "He had to go."
"Damn it!" Wolfram fumed. "Why couldn't he have just tied a knot in it and dealt with his problem that way?"
Yuuri, worried as he was, had a mouth like a thin line. "You sound like Trouble."
Wolfram narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. "If we don't find the sage in the next few minutes, Trouble is going to take over my body and set this whole damn forest on fire—lighting it up like a candle so that she can find her missing husband." The blond scrunched his eyes up tight and yelled, "That's not a HARD CONCEPT for you, IS IT?"
"You're shouting!" Yozak hissed.
"Yes," came Murata's voice from the darkness, "and it made it much easier for us to find you." His voice was flat, emotionless as he emerged with three armed, green robed men behind him. One was shoving a red rock into the small of his back. Murata's black eyes looked at the faces of his companions. "I suppose welcoming me back would be out of the question," he quipped and felt the rock in his back pushing him forwards.
"Go, you people," said a voice from behind Murata, "or he dies first."
"We'll cooperate," Yuuri assured him while he raised his hands defensively, "just don't do anything rash." And, for that, the double black got a blow to the head with a red stone. His body crumbled to the ground almost instantly, blackening out to the warped sound of Wolfram shouting his name.
"Dump his skinny ass over there," one of the robed figures said to Yozak. The spy entered the cave carrying Yuuri's slumped over body in his arms. Yozak did as he was told, looking grim, choosing to put his king down on a pile of potato sacks that was lying in front of a small crate of peaches and another filled with jam. Then, reluctantly, he joined the others, standing side by side against the same wall.
"Yuuri?" Wolfram whispered desperately to Yozak.
It pained the spy to see that expression on Wolfram's face, considering all he'd been through in the past few days. The orange haired man guessed that Wolfram, himself, didn't understand much of what he was feeling besides a sense of thinly "controlled worry" that bordered on panic.
"No blood, but he's out cold."
"Shut up, or you'll be next," the fat one promised. The portly figure in a green robe waddled up to the group. "Tie them and have them sit." The hooded face looked to his brethern and asked, "Who has the striped stone?"
"I do," said the tall, skinny one who lumbered after another man who was carrying the swords he'd collected from Yuuri's group, including Morgif. The skinny human pushed back his hood and let it fall down loosely along his shoulders. He was bald with blond eyebrows and a sharp, hawkish nose. "Here it is."
The portly one took the stone and examined it. "Could you tell which one it was, Theo?"
The bald man frowned at the question. "Sorry, Boss… The reading was too strong and spread out. It's more than just a magic sword or amulet…or whatever they've got on them. Oh, and by the way, I took four of our rocks off that short fella right there." He motioned to the sage. Murata ignored their leers and, instead focused his attention on what looked like a red stone in the thug's grip and observed it carefully as it was pointed at Yuuri. This stone, unlike the others he observed, deepened into to an almost crimson-black with little threaded veins inside. The portly one approached and Morgif moaned with displeasure. "Hmmm…magic sword…" The green robed leader scratched his chin in thought. Then, the stone was pointed at Yuuri again. The stone darkened once further still until it was almost a perfect copy of a chunk of obsidian. "What the…?" Boss grabbed Yuuri's limp body, patted him down, and unbuttoned the jacket.
"Leave him alone!" Wolfram snapped. Fury clearly written on him.
One of the hooded group stepped forward, grabbed him by the neck, and shoved Wolfram hard against the wall. "Cause more trouble, Blondie, and you die." The voice seemed familiar and he tried to place it. But that was when a fist pounded its way into Wolfram's stomach and the man laughed hard as the blond doubled over in pain—sinking to one knee. Conrad could do nothing to help his brother; he could only watch. Wolfram made gagging sounds and wretched with dry heaves. Slowly standing up, dizziness caught him and he fell awkwardly against Yozak's strong shoulder—and pressed something hard into his back. "Take this," Wolfram whispered.
Sky blue eyes widened as he snaked his hand casually behind him to take the dagger. The one from his boot,Yozak thought.
"And this one," the portly figure said.
Wolfram was grabbed roughly by the shirt and hauled forward by two men. Boss aimed the rock at him and chuckled at the results. "This one has a similar reaction with the stone." The stone came in close contact and turned dark, too. The blond felt confused. What were they talking about?
Pudgy hands touched him, fingers pressed in and searched. "Just like the other guy, there's nothing on him," the portly one said, feeling up Wolfram—running hands all over his chest a second time to make sure. Wolfram turned his head away in disgust. He didn't want anyone to touch him like that—feeling his skin through the thin shirt.
"A misreading?" the hawkish nosed Theo asked.
"I don't think so." The man scratched his stubbled chin a little. "It could be something that he's eaten or something that's inside of him." A hooded arm made a gesture towards Yuuri. "That one's probably the same way."
"We've done pretty well with enchanted swords and amulets. Do you think we can drain the energy from something that's alive?"
The apple shaped figure looked Wolfram up and down. "I'd say let's try it. Ordinarily, we'd get more power from setting them on fire than draining their life energy. But, these two seem to be pretty strong."
Conrad's brown eyes widened, "Life energy?"
"These guys can't be very bright," Murata whispered back with a soured, puckered face. "Life energy consists of the electrical impulses that every living being has. But, Mazoku have magic on top of that, and certain Mazoku, like Wolfram, can be even more powerful when wielding an element." He narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. "Now, add to the fact that both Yuuri and Wolfram have spirits inside of them—strong ones."
Murata's gaze drifted back to Yuuri—still unconscious next to the food supplies. Then, his eyes turned to the altar again. "No matter what, this cannot be good."
Yuuri was standing in a darkened room—a big one. But, he wasn't alone. Some instinct somewhere told him that. He shivered.
It was almost pitch black but, strangely, the floor had a soft, white glow to it. If he squinted hard enough, he could vaguely make out the pattern on the floor. It seemed familiar to him somehow. Yes, he'd definitely seen it before. His heart was beating hard. He felt exposed, alone, vulnerable. But, then, he looked down again… The floor, just seeing it, made him feel connected to something. And he clung on to that feeling.
A spot of blue light spilled down from the grand entryway and a single form walked into it and stood there for a second.
"Well, if it isn't…me," he said.
Yuuri's black, innocent eyes widened and he saw the man approaching him. The room brightened very slowly into a brown tint, like an old photograph. But, the figure in front of him was, just like himself, in full color.
"Hello, Yuuri," the deep voice said to him. The Maou's hands were in his pockets and his posture was casual. But his eyes were slits and they showed a maliciousness that was aimed at him.
"You're the…"
"Yes, I am," The Maou said and began to walk the length of the ballroom at a leisurely pace. The footsteps echoed in a lonely way—dying off somewhere.
It suddenly dawned on the double black where he was. Yuuri craned his head up and around. It was the ballroom in Blood Pledge Castle. That was why the floor was so familiar to him. It was a part of home. Yes, his home.
"Why are we here?" Yuuri asked, somewhere inside dreading the answer. He had felt the powerful spirit of The Maou within himself many times and had stopped him from behaving rashly—especially when it came to duels with Wolfram. But, this time, for some unknown reason, it felt like the roles were reversed. This time, Yuuri felt that he was the one who had behaved rashly, unfairly. And The Maou was going to let him have it by delivering a judgment of "justice."
The hollow footsteps continued. Yuuri walked around the ballroom, too, but with a timid pace. He blinked at everything. It was more than just the two of them, he realized. There was a party going on. The double black looked around. It was like being inside a three dimensional photograph. The people were stopped in the middle of living their lives. They were either tan or a dingy yellowish-white. Some were frozen in place while dancing. Others were standing around the drinks table chatting. He suddenly noticed Greta, in the new dress his mother had sent her, doing a pirouette for Gwendal to show off the fluffy way it poofed out when she turned. Gwendal's face, which was usually stern, was actually soft and Yuuri could practically read the man's mind. It said "cute."
"This was the Midsummer's Ball that we had three weeks ago," Yuuri said to himself out loud. "That's the only time Greta wore that dress." Then, he smiled a little to himself. "She wore the dress a second time but got caught in a rosebush and ripped it to shreds. She cried all afternoon over that."
"So, tears matter to you?" The Maou asked as he stepped aside to avoid a happy couple on the edge of the dance floor.
"Of course," Yuuri said from his side of the room.
"Interesting," The Maou observed and continued walking. His footsteps grew louder as he advanced.
Yuuri saw Lady Anissina chatting intimately with Raven. And the double black smirked a bit at that one. They really were quite charming together, both dressed up nicely in new clothes that almost seemed to match—almost as though the designer knew that they'd be with each other. Anissina was pressing an exotic drink from her "Let's-make-frozen-rainbow-wine-kun" into his hand, and Raven seemed to be enjoying the light feel of her fingertips on his. Anissina was saying something in his ear, words that he liked—obviously. A slightly wicked thought occurred. From his vantage point, Yuuri looked for Lady Cheri and found her, surrounded by handsome Mazoku men at a large table in the back of the room. In spite of that, her eyes were fixed on Raven's face and the ex-maou's smile seemed not quite so bright.
The double black felt his heart sink a little. Who was he kidding? Lady Cheri, who was surrounded by men, wasn't with the one she really wanted. And, knowing that now took some of the joy out of it. He wanted the impossible. He wanted everyone to be happy.
"So," The Maou said darkly, "where are you in this throng?"
"Me…?" Yuuri turned his head and looked—standing on tip toe. He remembered being all over the place that night. He took a few steps forward, circled around Anissina's brother, downing the last of his goblet, and spotted himself. Yuuri was surrounded by a group of female admirers. Lady Flurin Gilbert was one of them along with two of her friends from Caloria. The young daughters of Joshua von Grantz—distant cousins of Adelbert who wanted to let the king know just how "loyal" they were willing to be to gain his favor. Yuuri smirked a little at that memory. It felt good to have girls demanding his attention and practically pawing all over him. It was only when they'd become a major distraction, or rather "attraction" to everyone around them, that Günter jumped in to rescue his precious king.
The Demon King walked up behind a grinning Yuuri. "Now that you know where you are…where is…Wolfram?" He asked the question slowly and with meaning.
"Wolf…ram?" Yuuri said the name is a vague, distracted tone and with, once again, large eyes. "I dunno." He stood on tip toe again and scanned the room. "He's…ummm…right there." Yuuri pointed to a person who was about his height standing in the far corner of the ballroom. Wolfram was wearing his usual blue uniform, not the dress uniform that Günter had "suggested" which was, in fact, an order that the blond easily ignored. Wolfram's body was leaning casually against the wall with arms folded against his chest. His face looked like a mixture of anger and pain. His eyes, predictably, were locked on Yuuri and the women.
"Who is he to you again?" The Maou demanded to know as he approached the solitary figure. His black eyes examined the ex-prince in every detail. The Demon King bent down a bit to see into the face that was frozen with a look that Yuuri had a hard time taking in. Then, The Maou walked in an arc with the blond at the center—back and forth, pacing.
"I don't understand your question," Yuuri said, frowning.
The Maou stopped with a click of his heel in front of Wolfram and turned to face Yuuri. "This may be a ball…a celebration…but it is an event that is very public and very open." He focused his eyes on the wide, curious face before him. "Do you understand that much?"
"Sure," the double black said with a shrug as though he were still with Günter taking lessons in the library.
The Maou rested a hand on Wolfram's shoulder. "Tell me his title and what he…is…"
"Well," Yuuri said and gave his head a good scratch, "he's…you know…'Wolfram.' He's the ex-prince…a soldier…kind of a brat…and a good friend…"
The Maou rested a hand on his hip and glared. "A 'good friend' that you slapped…making him your royal fiancé."
"And that," Yuuri admitted, feeling a slight blush.
The man before him, the one who seemed to be an older and more powerful version of himself, sighed impatiently. "In this culture…in this society…an 'engagement' holds the same weight as a marriage would in your world. The Mazoku wedding ceremony itself, which is public, is simply a party and a holiday for the people to enjoy."
Yuuri's eyes widened at that. Maybe he should have listened a bit more carefully to Günter when he discussed wedding rituals years ago. He'd probably just tuned the adviser out and thought about eating a picnic with Greta.
"Look at yourself…look at what you're doing," The Maou said, "and, now, look at those people." The Maou pointed to a group standing not far from Wolfram. It was more than dark amusement; it was schadenfreude. Most of them, Yuuri realized, belonged to the Ten Noble Families. The glow that they gave off was unmistakable.
The Maou now pointed to a couple standing together. It was Conrad and Yozak. Based on their body language, the double black guessed that the two of them were talking quietly, not wanting to be noticed which was probably why they were talking next to one of the large tapestries that Günter had hung from the ceiling. The spy was murmuring something that Conrad seemed to be agreeing to wholeheartedly. Conrad was wearing his dress uniform. Yuuri had seen it more than a few times. Yozak was dressed in a fine suit of clothes with ruffles peeking out at the cuffs. Yuuri's first impression was that Yozak, when dressed up as a man, was very handsome—impressively so.
"What do their expressions tell you? What are they feeling?"
Yuuri peered closer. "They're concerned…uncomfortable…maybe, worried…" He followed their gaze. They, too, were focused on Wolfram.
"At this moment," The Maou said, "you are publicly humiliating Wolfram." The voice grew deeper and angrier with each word. "But no one is willing to be crass enough to tell you that because you are the maou."
Yuuri withdrew a little into himself. He didn't know it was that way, honestly.
"How many times did you dance with Wolfram that night?"
"Eh?" The question surprised him. "He's…he's a guy and…and I…I've danced with men before but not…at the castle…but…"
The voice repeated sternly, "How many?"
Yuuri's heart lost courage. "I didn't."
"Everyone noticed."
Yuuri's eyes flicked to Wolfram's face again. Perfect blond hair, sweetly shaped features, lips curved…downward. There was more "hurt" there than "anger." He could see that now. It was just easier for him, in the past, to focus on the anger first because he could ignore it or brush it off as a minor detail caused by a bratty ex-prince. Yuuri knew that if he wanted to, he could embarrass Wolfram into submission by asking "What's wrong?" The blond would always come back with "nothing" and then he'd storm off. That would be the end of it. Or so it seemed…
The Maou's eyes glittered malevolently at Yuuri, and he didn't miss it. "The person who picked away at Wolfram's soul…first…was you, not that horrible fox woman."
"That can't be," Yuuri denied.
"Oh, really?" came the angry reply. "In the same way that it 'can't be' that you have a love letter in your right pocket?"
Yuuri lowered his head. This didn't seem fair. He had a right to a life—a life of his choosing. And, even if he was confused about Wolfram, he had a right to be confused.
"Shall I recite the letter to you…in case you forgot?" The Maou gritted out.
"No," Yuuri said with a shake of his head. The purple writing, the hearts, and the inked whispers of what she was willing to let him do when they were alone at the love hotel room Murata was getting for them.
"Yuuri, you seem to forget that what you see, I see. What you do…I do as well."
The double black nodded helplessly at that. He did forget and it was embarrassing. Through his eyes, The Maou saw and understood everything because they shared the same body.
The next thing Yuuri knew, a wide hand was on him and he was being forced to sit at an empty table. The Maou took the seat across from him. The Demon King relaxed in the chair, crossed his ankles, and laced his fingers together in contemplation. A smirk played on his lips.
Yuuri sat nervously. He laughed nervously, too, hoping that it would ease the tension between them.
It didn't work.
"Yuuri, I grow tired of this. I grow tired of you. I keep waiting for you and I'm disappointed every time." He gave the double black a hard, sideways glance. "So, I am going to give you a choice of two possible futures." He turned from a profile to a face-to-face cold stare. "You will pick one, or I will pick for you. Either way, it will be decided."
"What are you saying?" Yuuri's black eyes turned away to Wolfam and then back again. Maybe, he was going to approve of what Wolfram had done to free himself. Maybe he was going to tell Yuuri to let the blond leave his life for good. The double black wasn't sure he could handle that. He knew he needed his blond by his side. They had grown close over the years. And he craved the odd, irreplaceable companionship that came from Wolfram's devotion, fellowship, and debates.
"Future number one," The Maou said with a finger raised. "You will rule Shin Makoku, as you swore you would when you came of age…and I will accept that… with limitations."
"Limitations?" He couldn't understand it.
"On Earth, I will allow you to do as you please. You may have as many dalliances as you want, sleep with whomever you desire…at any particular time you choose. I won't notice such things. I won't utter a word about it. And I will endure it."
Yuuri blushed at the openness.
"However," The Maou said with an edge, "in this world…even though you may rule our kingdom…you cannot have anyone by your side…not even Wolfram."
"What?" I'll have no one with me… I'll be alone here.
"And Wolfram will be my fiancé, not yours, Yuuri."
The double black took in a sharp breath.
"The last of his things will be moved out of your bedroom, and he will have a suite of rooms on the opposite side of the castle. He will have servants of his own as well. So, there's no reason why he even has to dine with you each night…unless he chooses to with Greta… and, most certainly, he will never sleep next to you again."
Yuuri's jaw was on the floor at that.
"I will allow you to be 'just friends,' but your contact will be restricted."
The double black tightened a fist. He could feel his blood pressure rising. "You're making a lot of decisions for Wolfram on your own," he shot back. "'Maou' or not, you have to understand that Wolfram is an adult and can make his own choices."
"Choices? I don't think you've given Wolfram very many…choices." The eyes with black slits regarded him.
Feeling braver, the double black continued. "Wolfram…I think…wants more than just living alone on the opposite side of the castle." Yuuri pointed to the figure standing on his own in the corner. "He needs people in his life…He needs…"
"…Someone…?" the king suggested. "…Someone who loves him…besides that flying fox spirit?"
There was something terribly frail about Wolfram standing there now.
The taller man smiled. "Yes, someone…I agree with you, Yuuri." The Maou laced his fingers together again with a dark smile. "And, on the day of the wedding, I will be the one standing at Ulrike's altar, not you."
Yuuri looked away, not believing what he was hearing.
The Maou's shoulder length hair drifted with the soft haze of blue energy that wrapped around him. "Wolfram will be my husband…not yours."
"But…I'm…" After that, Yuuri began to stammer, making sounds that were not coherent.
"You see, Wolfram is under the impression that the two of us are one person—one very confused person. Half loves him and half doesn't. Guess which half you are…"
Yuuri ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"Of course, there is the possibility that the two of us could merge someday in the future into a truly awesome being." Yuuri felt on edge. This was all so new to him. "Oh, it is possible," The Maou said, "but it won't happen if I'm the only one married to Wolfram. His future and his happiness will not be compromised just because you cannot accept a marriage with the most beautiful Mazoku we've ever known." He gave a smirk and said, "I'll keep our souls and our energies separate…along with our lives."
"And…the other future…?" Yuuri asked hesitantly.
The Demon King quirked a smile at the double black before answering, "You will be faithful. No others. And there will be three of us in this marriage—you, me, and Wolfram."
Yuuri's eyes widened again. "Wha-?"
"Until…you prove to me that you can be a husband in every way…publicly," he gestured to the room, "and privately… I won't merge my soul with yours. So, Wolfram will have, in essence, two husbands."
"Wolfram…married to…both of us." It almost sounded like the arrangement that Tra'va had with Murata and Yozak—the difference being that both he and The Maou shared the same body.
"You can't just make decisions about me like that! It's unfair!" He narrowed his black eyebrows.
"What's 'unfair' is living inside of you and bearing witness to all of the thoughtless things you do." He cocked his head sideways and his face softened. "What's 'unfair' is the fact that I've allowed it to continue without giving an ounce of comfort to someone I care for…someone I knew was suffering."
The Maou stood up from his seat. "With or without your help, I will win Wolfram's trust back…and deserve it. And I will seek out a way to repair the damage that's been done to his soul. It may take years, in fact, but I will do it."
"I want that, too," Yuuri insisted. "I want him to trust me, and I want to have him back as he was before... And, I want more time…so that I can understand what I feel."
The Maou shook his head. "What you want is in that note in your pocket. What I want is Wolfram's heart."
Yuuri's wrists were hurting, constricted and secured behind his back. He tried to move again, still groggy from being hit so hard, but it wasn't possible.
What happened? I think I was talking to The Maou before…but now…
Cautiously, he opened one eye and then the other—taking everything in for the first time.
It was more than a cave. Based on the thickly "drizzled" appearance of the walls with layers of dust and grime, it seemed that someone had, long ago, melted out a huge cavern inside the grassy hill. There was an ornately carved rectangular altar with an oblong impression cut into it. The altar was covered with a mesh tablecloth, and, on the floor around it, there was a circle—or, rather, a series of rectangular impressions set in a circle. Hanging above the altar were dust-covered, grey tapestries with words written in a language Yuuri couldn't even begin to identify. Two large jugs of oil—much like the ones Yuuri ordered for the kitchen at Blood Pledge Castle, stood by the entrance near him and two were by a large doorway leading into another part of the cavern, Yuuri guessed. And, in a small, wooden crate a few paces away, there was a collection of colorless crystals. Each crystal was the size of a man's fist.
"Boss? What do I do with these?" Theo looked down at the red rocks he'd gotten from Murata.
"Are they low?" He quirked an eyebrow.
He held them up to one of the sconces burning on the wall. Murata's dark eyes saw that and he held his breath. "Please don't explode," he muttered to himself. "I could get blasted with shards."
"Yup, I'd say so."
"Then put 'em next to the altar. I'll get to it all when I can."
"Sure thing," Theo said and dumped the little red pile unceremoniously. Murata saw it and chewed his lower lip. "They don't like being treated like that," the sage grumbled.
"Hey, the black headed one's awake," said the hawkish nosed man. He pointed to Yuuri.
I guess, he doesn't know who I am. Then, that means this isn't political.
"Yuuri? Are you okay?" Conrad whispered. His wrists were tied behind him, like everyone in their group now.
The double black nodded and forced his body into a sitting position without the use of his hands. It was hard, but he managed. One of the hooded men walked to his side and glared down menacingly.
I guess, everyone's got a beef with me today, Yuuri thought.
The apple shaped leader tossed his hood back, too. He revealed the face of someone scarred in battle. He had a slash mark across his left cheek and nose. There seemed to be scars on his chin and neck as well. "We'll start with that one." He pointed to Wolfram. "Bring him over."
One of the hooded men jumped at the chance. "With pleasure," he said. And, again Wolfram couldn't quite place the voice even though he knew it.
The blond Mazoku found himself being dragged and then seated roughly on the altar while the tubby leader stood off to the side and pointed a sword at his throat. It would have to be Conrad's sword they're using, Wolfram thought darkly. Conrad, seeing it, felt sick inside.
"Strap him down," the leader ordered.
From out of a rough sack, a coil of thin leather was brought out. Two of the men cut strips and brought them over to secure Wolfram to the altar.
"We'll have to free his hands for a second," the familiar voice said. "But, before we do…" He walked over to their leader, took the sword, and placed the tip to Murata's chest. The sharp edge pressed into Murata's jacket. It sliced easily into the material enough to make a hole. The sage tried not to look frightened, but, without a doubt, he was.
"One false move, Blondie, and he dies. I'll let you watch."
From behind, a blade cut Wolfram's wrists free of the rope.
Sitting on the altar and rubbing his aching wrists, Wolfram briefly considered the turn of events. He still had a grudge against Murata—a deep one. His mind kept flashing back to the hallway and Murata's encouragement of Yuuri's betrayal. Wolfram wasn't kidding himself when he thought of the happy prospect of the sage bleeding. He could make a move now, set loose several fireballs, rescue Yuuri, and allow the sage to die in a red puddle on the floor. A cruel smirk came to him as he locked eyes with wide black ones. Why not? It's not like his death would be permanent. He'd just get reincarnated again.For the first time since they'd met, he saw true fear in Murata's eyes. Then, Wolfram stretched his body out submissively. Tra'va, he knew, would be like Yuuri and would never forgive him. Wolfram offered his wrists—which surprised his captors. Hands grabbed at his body eagerly and with force. His legs were spread apart. The leather bit into him as he was secured fast and hard, wrists and ankles, against the table-like structure.
"You must really love your husband," the man said, throwing his cowl back. Wolfram's eyes widened at the short blue-green hair and eyes. It was the server. The tavern owner's son.
"But, I thought it was just humans," Wolfram breathed.
"Just businessmen," the server corrected. "And our little band does quite a lot of business making people disappear." Then, he stroked a finger against Wolfram's cheek. "Hey, Blondie…your eyes have changed color since the last time I saw you. Did you know that?" He grabbed a fistful of Wolfram's hair. It hurt and Wolfram clinched his jaw. "I think this green color is much better on you than the red contacts you were wearing earlier." Then, he punched Wolfram in the face, enjoying the feeling of putting his fist into Wolfram's cheek. "And that's for giving me the finger that time!" he bellowed.
Yuuri tried to make it to Wolfram's side but his guard held him back by the collar. "Just wait until it's your turn," the man laughed at him.
"My turn?" Yuuri looked from him to the altar, confused.
Boss lumbered by with something heavy in his hands.
Wolfram's head swam—and not just from the blow. Suddenly, the blond could feel his stomach lurch uncomfortably—as though he'd been drinking all night and needed to vomit. Unable to move from the altar, he turned his head to the side and began gasping for air to calm it down. Then, his eyes caught sight of the six green garbed figures with their hoods down. Three of them were, in fact, human and three were Mazoku. They all were hauling bricks.
"So, you found two of our associates and stole the stones from them, huh?" the tubby leader said casually, now on the floor picking up what looked like a brick with oval, yellow jewels set into it. With care, he slid it gingerly inside the impression set into the floor with a deep, rumbling, grainy sound. "I don't mind it so much. They were human supremacists and had their own agenda with their take of the money. Talk about trouble from the start." Once the brick was in place, it made a "thunk" and then the jewels lit up with a soft amber glow. He placed another brick down.
Wolfram could feel something was draining him. But, exactly what was doing it was beyond him.
"This one's dirty," the leader said to Theo. "Clean it with the holy oil." He handed the brick over and grabbed another one to keep on task.
"What are you doing to him?!" Yuuri demanded and got shoved roughly back for that one.
"You'll see," his guard answered.
Another brick was put in place with a dull sound following it. To Yuuri's distress, Wolfram's eyes shot open and he struggled against his bonds. The blond tried to fight back a groan, but it was done poorly. Everyone could hear it. And the echoes in the cavern made the moment an eternity.
"What's going on?" Conrad whispered quickly to the sage. If he could understand, maybe he could form a strategy.
Murata's eyes cut to the bald man walking past them with the clean brick.
"It's old magic—magic from the time Shinou was a child."
"Shinou was once a child?" Conrad whispered back, incredulously.
There was a vague nod from the sage that was meant to look like he was watching the ceiling. "I think it's a conveyance altar. And these people have no idea what they've really got."
Brown eyes glanced. "What does it do…exactly?"
"When a magical item was broken—such as a sword—and was beyond repair, the power within it could be shifted, transferred. From what I've read, they stored the power in some sort of "sacred" amber stones blessed with holy oil." Murata stopped and pretended to watch the ceiling again. "These simians have taken it a step further and powered their 'houjutsu toys' as Tra'va calls them."
"Those red crystal rocks?" Conrad whispered.
"The same," the sage murmured back while watching more of the amber speckled bricks being gathered. They almost circled the altar at this point—casting a yellow-white glow. The sage licked his drylips. "But if they over charge those with power…or if they're thrown into a fire…smash on the ground…?" He raised an eyebrow at the prospect. "Ka-boom," he whispered with satisfaction.
Another green robed figure walked by but gave them a stare to see if they were chatting. Both looked bored, heads down a little.
"So, could they build another one of these?" Conrad asked, now worried if this got into the hands of a strong enemy like Big Cimaron.
"No," Murata murmured. "Most likely, they stumbled across the altar here…buried long, long ago."
"Why couldn't they make another one if they can use this one?"
The sage fought back a smirk. "Lord Weller, do you remember televisions back on Earth?"
"Yes," Conrad whispered and then looked to the ground as another green robed figure passed by.
"Can you operate a television?"
"Yes."
"Can you build one?"
Brown eyes widened a little. "No."
"My point exactly."
From where he was sitting, Yuuri's ears could catch faint whispers between Murata and Conrad. He hoped, in his heart of hearts, that they were discussing a way to free themselves. His eyes were locked on Wolfram. And he watched the blond writhe more with each brick that slid into place.
On his knees, the leader contemplated the next amber brick in his hand. "Not bad for old hoseki bricks."
"Old hoseki…?" the sage murmured to himself with his head down, seemingly, in a submissive way. "No…he means amber hoseki." He practically stared a hole into the floor at that point. "That stuff's rare…and powerful. So, that's the secret to the altar." He lifted his chin up to examine the circle of bricks around Wolfram. He was shocked to discover that the blond, somehow, had enough strength to try to fight his bonds. The veins in his neck stood out like tree roots with each twist that he made. But, being drained from just the proximity, Wolfram wasn't able to do more than writhe.
"Last one," Boss said with satisfaction. His job could be tedious at times.
"No!" Yuuri trembled and stood helplessly. His guard laughed at the face he was making.
When the final brick was put into place, a beam of light shot down from the ceiling and directly into the victim's chest. It bore into his soul and began to siphon off what it could easily reach.
Wolfram screamed.
Both Conrad and Yozak wanted to rush forward but found red stones aimed at them.
The beam intensified and Wolfram screamed again with his body feeling like it was on fire; all eyes on him now. He was shedding tears with jerking movements of his arms and legs. Suddenly, the beam narrowed and changed color to a faded blue, and the body jerked with the next pitiful scream torn from the blond's throat.
"Wolfram?" Yuuri couldn't breathe. He fell to his knees.
Wolfram threw his head back again—another cry of agony. But, this time, Wolfram's form on the altar blurred. Hovering, like a double exposed photograph, was the outline of the body of a fox woman. She cried as Wolfram cried; his movements, her movements.
"What, the hell, is that?" Theo shouted to Boss. "That blond guy had a monster inside of him!" The other robed men, including Boss, moved back. And Yuuri's guard stared down at him with disgust. "I'll bet you've got one of those in you, too, huh?" he said. But Yuuri never heard his words. All he could see was his blond, his Wolfram, being tortured with no way to help.
With labored breathing, Wolfram opened his green eyes to look at Yuuri. Tra'va's face did the same. The pain that they shared was impossible to endure for long.
"Tra'va?" Wolfram whispered hoarsely.
Yes…
"You know what I want. Can you do it?" His voice shook, barely able to speak. But speaking reminded him that he was still alive.
I can try…
"Then, do it!"
Wolfram's fingernails changed color to a deep purple, grew sharp, and formed long talons. Quickly, they flicked back and cut the leather straps binding his wrists to the altar. With a sharp "pop," they were freed.
Weak and lightheaded, the blond forced his body to sit on the edge of the altar—the light beam behind him now. He was breathing hard through the burning pain, as though he'd finished a marathon run. The stones circling the altar pulsed in sequence. It made him want to vomit.
To Yuuri's surprise, Wolfram's eyes darkened to blood red and he pointed a finger at him.
The animalistic voice said, "Yuuri! Run!"
A thin shot of purple light hit the guard in the head.
A wave of nausea came again. "To Hell with this!" Downwardly, a fireball was launched at the floor.
"No!" the sage screamed at Wolfram, but found himself being held back by Conrad as the amber bricks exploded upwards toward the ceiling.
"Somebody grab our swords!" Yozak yelled among the smoke and crystal debris raining down. He pulled out the dagger, threatened one of the robed men with it, and went, instead, for the altar.
Black wings slumped after pushing themselves out, leaving bloody tear trails down Wolfram's back. He whimpered at it. He could hear "I'm sorry" in his mind. Exhausted now, Wolfram's body remained stationary; his legs were still tied. In spite of himself, he fell backwards onto the remains of the altar—breathing hard. He just needed a minute, he told himself, just a chance to clear his head.
"Let's cut you loose," Yozak said to Wolfram, trying to avoid the wings that were now spread open. The orange haired man wasn't sure if he was talking to Wolfram or Tra'va. But he guessed it was probably both.
Running out of the cave, the tavern owner's son slammed into another one of his brethren. A shoving match ensued with the end result of them both getting away but the two jars of oil, near Yuuri, had been sloshed over in a semi-circle—making a barrier that quickly set on fire with the next exploding amber stone.
"Yuuri!" Wolfram wailed with Trouble's voice—forcing his body up on shaking legs. He was standing on the altar now.
Yozak ran to help Yuuri next, running with the stride of an athlete. But smoke from the magical fires and exploding crystals was quickly filling the cavern.
"Yozak!" Wolfram shouted.
The man stared up at him.
"I'll get Yuuri. You get everyone else out!" Wolfram opened the spirit's wings and began to push down, getting some lift.
Yozak gave a dubious look, nodded with reluctance, and got down to business.
Wolfram! Tra'va called in a terrified voice, What are you doing?!
Rescuing Yuuri!
They lifted from the ground. Wings flapped heavily, taking a lithe body high above the altar. Eyes scanned the chaos below: of fights breaking out on one side between Conrad and Yozak against two of the Mazoku thugs while the sage scrambled to collect their swords. Morgif moaned complaints all the way.
Without Tra'va's ability to see Yuuri's soul, it would have been impossible to find him over the smoke and flames that had now spread to the supplies and crates. Just behind him, the four stones that had been retrieved from Murata caught fire near the altar and exploded—projecting hunks of ornately carved wood and precious metals.
"He's there!" Wolfram said, seeing that the double black had retreated to avoid the wall of angry flames and smoke that were threatening him.
But the blond felt hesitation. It came from Tra'va. You don't understand what you're risking. If we fail…we… She didn't need to finish the thought. He knew they'd never reach the shrine.
We won't fail. They sped through a wall of black, oily smoke.
I'm not so sure, Wolfram.
Trust me in this.
Why should I? Besides, I don't think I'm strong enough anymore. He could feel it. She was defensive because she was tired and afraid. Wolfram could understand that. He had lived that way for so long.
Yes, you are! And trust me because… He had to say it. He was desperate for her help. He needed it…for Yuuri's sake. Trust me because… you love me.
Tears that didn't belong to him fell from his eyelashes as they flew.
That was…unfair, Wolfram.
I know it was.
Wolfram's arms found the double black and wrapped themselves around him. And, surprisingly, Yuuri's body instantly melded into his without a single word or wimpish hesitation.
A blond head looked upwards. Yes, they'd have to go back that way. The ceiling was high enough and Tra'va's bat-like wings could make sharp turns. "Hold onto me. We're getting out of here, Yuuri."
The smooth wings pushed hard against the rolling, hellish smoke. The body, carrying its heavy burden, lifted into the air and over the flames.
Wolfram's eyes widened when he realized that Boss was in front of the entrance, blocking the way with a red stone in each hand pointed at them. He grinned at the bat-winged angel clutching the raven haired young man. "Idiot!" There was no way the blond menace was going to destroy his livelihood and leave this place alive.
"Faster! Make a shield and mow him down if you have to, Tra'va," Wolfram ordered.
With the last of her strength, she obeyed. Yes, he had asked her to trust him. And, foolishly, she did—gladly accepting the most likely outcome.
But love has a way of making you do crazy, even hopeless, things.
Wolfram was lying on his side with Yuuri wrapped protectively in his arms. They had skidded across the landscape, crashing into shrubs and rocks with the ground making road rash, cuts, and scrapes all down the left side of Wolfram's head, neck, arm, and leg. Yuuri suffered, too. But, Wolfram had held him so tightly that his injuries were minimal.
They rested in a small clearing. It was a carpet of grass surrounded by pine trees leaning in the direction that the wind typically blew. Wolfram had, from the start, folded Tra'va's wings back so that they wouldn't catch on anything or break in the fall that he knew was coming. Still, he didn't regret using the wings to fly, pick up speed, and blast them out. But, in the end, it wasn't "flying" so much as it was a barely controlled fall.
He was lying there with his light green bottle eyes half lidded. He could feel something warm and wet trickling down his neck and spreading out from his head. It was blood, Wolfram guessed. He had a vague curiosity about the extent of his injuries, but it didn't stay with him long. Yuuri was more important. And the double black was still lying in his arms.
Wolfram held him close. It was like they were back home and Yuuri was sleeping quietly. Only, when he was like that, Wolfram knew better than to try to touch him. He'd get a sharp elbow in the ribs and a sleep-laced grumble to "back off." But, now… If this is the only way I can ever hold you…he thought, cuddling the limp body in his arms even though he was feeling distracted by the sharp head pains that were creeping up on him. He breathed in the scent that was typically Yuuri. It was a comfort. Holding one's mate for the last time, he guessed, should always be like that—a comfort. You're fine. You will be fine. And I'm glad that you'll continue on….
Through the brush, Conrad and Yozak were half dragging Murata. He'd gotten a lung full of black smoke and he was coughing hard with each step that the two men made—taking him along for the ride with bent knees. Murata's head was down and he wanted to throw up, he'd been coughing so much.
Catching sight of Wolfram and Yuuri, Conrad gently lowered Murata to the grass and stumbled to Wolfram's side.
The blond had his back to Conrad. He was still holding Yuuri, but, sensing his brother, Wolfram relaxed his fingers. His grip was loosening. Yes, Conrad was here now and could care for Yuuri in his place. And that would be a good thing, he promised himself.
"Yuuri? Wolfram?" Conrad choked out. His heart clinched. Tears were coming to him. There were blood stains on the grass.
He calls to Yuuri first. Then, a dark chuckle that came out as a choking sound. Of course he would. Yuuri's his godson. Yuuri's our king. What was I thinking? Green eyes stared forward without blinking. His lips were parted slightly.
There was a large, warm hand on Wolframs forearm. It gently shook him. Conrad tried again as Yuuri opened his onyx eyes. The blond let Yuuri go entirely, and his body slumped onto the grass. Green eyes watched it with little emotion other than a flicker of relief.
"That hurts," Yuuri moaned as his memories of what just happened came flooding back to him. His eyes widened and then he forced himself up into a sitting position, a hand to his throbbing head. "Wolfram, I…" The double black's voice trailed away as he saw Wolfram lying next to him. But, what his eyes took in and what his mind could accept were two different things.
Wolfram's blond hair was stained red on his left side with a little pool forming and spreading out. The rest of his body, still lying on its side, wore a shredded shirt that was slowly turning crimson, blood oozed out from underneath, and torn trousers.
"Wolfram?" Yuuri whispered, his hand shaking as it went to touch soft, perfumed blond hair that was quickly taking on the stench of blood.
"It's over. You're safe," Wolfram uttered in a tired voice. His half lidded eyes tugged down.
"You'll be fine," Yuuri said, but his tone was terrified and he was saying it more to himself than his ex-fiancé.
Green eyes narrowed a little. "Stop looking so afraid, wimp."
"Wimp," Yuuri said, his voice trembling openly. He roughly wiped a tear coming from his right eye. "Yes, that's me. The Wimp. You're never afraid, huh?" He tucked back a strand of his own raven hair as he spoke. He had to do something with his hands because, more than anything, he wanted to take the blond before him into his arms and cry his heart out. "Huh, Wolfram?"
To that, Wolfram blinked slowly. "Afraid? I've been terrified of you for a long time now."
"What?" Conrad said, not understanding it. He reached down to take Wolfram's hand, trying to give it some of his warmth. Something was wrong. It was verywrong. Wolfram loved Yuuri. He didn't fear him. Everybody knew that.
"Come on, Wolfram. You're not afraid of me," Yuuri said with a tearful chuckle, his eyes streaming. Wolfram was, obviously, far more injured than he had thought.
Wolfram forced his body to stretch a little and rolled fully onto his back—leaving a red smear stain on the grass that alarmed the double black. He trembled. A damp cold was sinking into his bones.
"Yes, afraid…of you…" Wolfram almost smiled at the memories now. All of his tantrums, his worries, his tears—changed absolutely nothing. "For so long, I was afraid that you would find someone else and leave me…alone…unloved." His lips curved upward. "And that's just what you did."
Yuuri's face was bowed down, eyes shadowed by his hair. His hands were on his knees—gripping them tightly, knuckles white.
"And…I'm…glad."
Yuuri shook his head "no." That had to be a lie. Wolfram was lying to him just so that he could save face.
The blond wondered for a brief second whether he'd realized this because part of his soul had been chipped away, or if it was because he was at the point of letting go. Maybe both. "No, I'm honest," Wolfram said and raised a tired hand up to wipe Yuuri's cheek. Tears were dripping down to his chin and falling. "Yuuri… Once you've truly faced the worst that can happen to you…there's nothing left to be afraid of."
"Wolfram…" His voice cracked saying the name. He looked to the blond who had eyes sliding shut.
"Hold Greta for me… I wish I could…"
"Wolf-?
"I'm sorry, Tra'va," the blond whispered, seeing her in his mind's eye. Like Wolfram, she had collapsed, wings bent at unnatural angles. Her pink eyes held a mix of regret and terror. She'd just sacrificed everything for Wolfram because she loved him.
The blond sighed her name again. "You're so weak now. I never took you to the shrine as I promised."
Conrad tightened his grip on Wolfrm's hand and turned to look, almost desperately, at Yozak.
Yozak had an arm around the sage. Murata's coughing fit and stopped, but he was still gasping hard for breath with watery eyes latched onto Wolfram.
The blond continued, "I'm sorry we never made it. Look what's going to happen to you." He took a pained breath and said, "But, I'll go with you…to the void…I'll hold you…and you'll never be alone again."
"The void?" Yuuri, vision blurred with tears, turned to Murata. "What's…What's that?"
The sage gave him an unreadable expression. He forced himself to answer even though he didn't want to. "It's a place where evil spirits go for all eternity. They can never reach the heavenly realm from there." He lowered his head, remembering that the fox spirit wanted so badly to leave before time ran out, to make it to the shrine to continue her journey. And she would have, had they not pressed her into staying. "It's like 'death' for the dead."
"And Wolfram wants to go there…with her?" Yuuri's onyx eyes widened.
"Apparently."
"I know you love me…" Wolfram murmured with his eyes shut. "Tra'va."
It was an incredulous stare that the double black gave him. He thinks she's the only one who does.
Wolram's body slumped very slowly, but the wry smile was still there. The pale hand that Conrad was holding grew limp.
"Wolfram?" Conrad's broken whisper stabbed at Yozak. It had been many years since he'd last heard that tone from his captain and dearest friend.
"No." Yuuri shook his head in pathetic little jerks. He wanted to cry, to yell, and, finally, to break something. A last tear, an angry one this time, streaked down the curve of his face. "I won't allow it," Yuuri said with determination that sounded like The Maou. The voice deepened. "I said I won't allow it!" His fists clinched. "You cannot die!"
Yuuri's chin raised to the sky. His body changed—hair lengthened to his shoulders. His jaw widened. Then his eyes flicked quickly into orbs with black slits. The wind picked up, harsh and cruel. Clouds gathered, threatening rain, with bolts of lightning streaking through the sky.
The Maou's profile, edged in an angry blue haze, was a kind of burning fury. And thin bands of energy swirled around them, almost seeking a target for vengeance instead of justice.
"Hold him," The Maou commanded to Conrad, whose face betrayed the shock he was feeling.
Without a second thought, the soldier did it—hoisting his little brother into his arms. The blond's body was loose, heavy, and slightly warm. It was like holding a very large, very heavy newborn.
"Turn his face to you…into your chest."
Conrad gave a nod and did it.
The Maou shot Yozak a hard glare. "The whisky! You have some with you. I can feel it," he commanded with a hand stretched out. And Yozak immediately rammed his large, callused hand into his pocket for the modest supply that he had on him.
"How did you know?" Yozak asked, almost timidly, handing it over.
"You have a mix of water and whiskey. I can sense my own element around me. The alcohol taints it." Opening the flask, The Maou poured the alcohol on Wolfram's head—revealing the site where the blood was coming from. It was a deep, ragged slash into the side of his head, probably made by an impact with a sharp rock, causing the head to bleed heavily and clot into sickening globs. Part of the scalp was torn and hanging, showing a pink, meaty strip of hair covered flesh.
Conrad, seeing it, closed his brown eyes and turned his face away with a groan.
With expressionless eyes, The Maou hovered his green glowing hands over Wolfram's head and more blood came pouring out. Conrad, seeing it, felt himself unable to breathe.
Snakelike eyes glared at Conrad. "If he can endure the feel of it, you can endure the sight of it. So, hold him still."
Some part of him is still…conscious?It was a hideous thought. But Conrad nodded shakily and held his brother securely against him. He knew that he was a soldier—they were both soldiers. But, this was the brother that he rocked in his arms the moment he was born. The one he promised to always protect. It was the same promise that he'd made about Yuuri, too.
The Maou pressed the loose skin back into place and another bright green glow came almost immediately. Wolfram's body jerked uncontrollably, like an electric shock had passed through. The Maou shot an angry look at Conrad. Through gritted teeth,"I said to hold him still." He tried again and the skin began to mend itself at an impressive rate. Then, with one single pull, The Maou shredded the last of Wolfram's ragged shirt. Everyone jumped at the sound of the material ripping apart. And they watched as the rags were flung carelessly upon the grass.
The healing hands made slow movements down the bare neck and back with long slashes where the wings had once been—working his way lower still before making one last healing effort on the blond's head.
"The bleeding was bad," The Maou said simply. He didn't bother to elaborate. He didn't need to. An extra burst of healing power came from his palms and the king closed his eyes tightly. This was draining him.
Wolfram took a sharp breath once The Maou had finished and he felt his body being embraced with desperate fingers digging into his bare arm and back. With effort, he opened his eyes. He turned his face up to see a very relieved Conrad holding him. His older brother tightened his grip and tucked a blond head under his chin. "Oh, Wolfram," he whispered in a tone that sounded very much like a deeper version of "little big brother's" voice. The blond had, for a brief moment, the urge to swat Conrad away. But, he didn't. He told himself that his body was simply too heavy, and he didn't want to waste his energy doing it. But, somewhere inside, he was feeling pity for his brother. The man's face, though smiling, seemed to show an unspeakable torment.
Feeling weak, Wolfram's eyes slid shut again and he wandered into pain-filled dreams—snippets of conversations and faces he knew, but too fast, like sand falling through his fingers.
"Give him to me," The Maou ordered, without allowing Conrad the chance for a reply.
The blond's body was passed from loving arms to loving arms.
Wolfram, waking up a bit because he was jostled, vaguely noted to himself that the new body was warm, too, but reeked of an odd mix of scents: oily smoke, sweat, dirt, blood, and grass. But, there was also the faint smell of Yuuri's spicy Earth cologne. In spite of everything, it still clung to his skin.
The Maou was sitting on the ground, cross legged now, with a slightly confused and very groggy blond in his lap.
"Yuuri…" Wolfram said with a dull sigh. Of course, he'd have to be the one to heal him. No one else in their group had that power. But Wolram's eyes grew large when he realized it was Yuuri in Maou Mode. He was also greeted with a sexy smile.
"Surprised?"
"A little," Wolfram answered honestly. He winced when The Maou ran his fingers through his hair to pull out the last of the gravel and twigs. A hand cupped Wolfram's cheek. Wolfram colored slightly at the gesture, which amused The Maou to no end because it was a sign—a good one. As Demon King, watching through his other half's eyes, his feelings for Wolfram were clear. In fact, they had been very clear to him for awhile now.
"I'm sorry, but…I could not allow you to die," The Maou told him. He toyed with a dusty, blond curl as he said it.
"Why?" Wolfram asked, his milky-green eyes questioning. It would have been so easy to let go. A relief, in fact, but a burden to those left behind.
The king quirked his lips into a faint smile. "Because…you do not have permission."
Wolfram almost laughed at that ridiculously lame excuse—one totally unworthy of the justice loving maou, but stopped himself. Just the thought of laughing made his headache pound. But he managed to keep a sincere expression on his face when he said, "Thank you…I owe you my life."
The Maou leaned in, brushed his lips against Wolfram's and whispered, "You aremy life… inamorato."
"Why?" Wolfram asked. His heart could not accept it so easily—not after what Yuuri had done.
The embrace that followed was warm, loving. "Why, beloved? Because you are my tie to this world, to this time, and to our people. My soul is bonded to you so strongly and yours is also." A hand caressed Wolfram's back. "And if you did not feel it, too—our bond—then, you would not have tried so hard to sever it by chipping away your soul."
A blond head nestled against him. "It was for the best…to let go of an impossible dream. I was hurt, but I was trying to do what would make you happy in the end, Yuuri. You deserve that… In fact, you still do." He took a shallow breath and added, "When you change back, I mean." When you go back to the Yuuri I'm with most of the time.
A blond head turned up to see The Maou's reaction. He could guess what it was.
Predictably, The Demon King's expression narrowed but Wolfram refused to back down or turn his head away. What he just said was true—every word of it.
Onyx eyes softened a little. Wolfram had been through a lot and he knew it. They would have to start over, the three of them, from the beginning if they were to have a future. "Then, I will have to teach you what 'love' means."
"You're welcome to try." A faint smile shined up at him.
The simple kiss that followed was slow, wet, and comforting for them both. And, when it was over, Wolfram's eyes darkened to a medium shade of green.