Chapter 17

Dull green eyes opened and closed, then scrunched tightly. A blond head snuggled into a chest with a solid heartbeat. Wolfram groaned with complaint as his headache began to take a firmer grip across his brow. He rubbed his blond locks again against the fabric-covered chest, and felt a warm hand press against his left shoulder.

"Hold still."

"Eh?" He took a breath and let it out as a half-snore. "Don't give me that. I'm tired, Yuuri. Just let me sleep." He muttered the last sentence in the brattiest tone he could muster. That usually got him his way.

"Fine," the voice said in his ear, "but just don't move around a lot. I'm kind of busy at the moment." The hand stroked his shoulder again. "And thanks…for calling me 'Yuuri' again."

'Yuuri?' Oh, hell… I should have called him 'heika." Wait… 'Busy'? What is the wimp talking about now? Wolfram opened his eyes again and squinted at Yuuri's profile. His face seemed to be in deep concentration. Yes, something was up and it would, obviously, need his attention, too, because Yuuri was so clueless.

The blond took a few more breaths and realized that his body was curled up in Yuuri's lap. His ex-fiancé had a death grip on his body—one hand on his shoulder, one at the hip. And, now that he could see what was going on, they were wrapped in some kind of silk thread with an iridescent purple orb sliding along it like an oversized bead.

"What are you doing?" Wolfram muttered, eyes half lidded from his headache.

"Sending Trouble to her new home."

Wolfram nodded. Home… He frowned at the thought groggily. But why couldn't I be her home?

"Because this is where she belongs," Yuuri said with confidence. He gave the blond's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Wait! Did I just say that out loud? Wolfram's face heated up at his mistake. The last thing he wanted was for Yuuri to know what he was thinking. What if he said other things out loud and didn't know it? No, he couldn't fathom it. It was just too embarrassing.

"Almost there…"

Wolfram frowned again and wanted to give the wimp a good, solid thump. That last line was said with a bit too much enthusiasm. And, then… A bright burst of white light lit up the room. Yuuri pulled Wolfram against him protectively and turned his back to the second blinding flash that quickly followed—giving them, for the briefest of moments, long dark shadows on the floor. A purple orb surrounded the box, making it teeter briefly before knocking it off the shelf. The box smashed to the ground—tossing out the bone and the lock of fine, blond hairs which were quickly swept up by the growing orb of purple and black.

"Wolfram!" he gritted out. He dug his fingers in and tucked a golden head under his chin. Nothing was going to happen to Wolfram this time—if he had anything to say about it, that was. In spite of everything he'd been through, the limp figure in Yuuri's arms held onto him. Wolfram wasn't afraid, exactly, but he was concerned. His mind was still in a fog. He knew it. And it didn't help matters that his priority was to protect his king first and himself second. Stupid Yuuri was doing the exact opposite—again—causing more difficulties.

A third explosion, this one of purple and black, hurt everyone's ears and sent them to the floor. Together, Conrad and Yozak tackled Murata, sending him on his back with the two giant figures descending at the same rate. The hermit had eased his way out long before the first explosion. And Yuuri was firmly on top of Wolfram who let out a surprised "yelp" finding himself suddenly squeezed against the stone floor with a force that he was surprised that the wimp had to begin with. Jet black hair tore furiously in the gale. Wolfram squirmed and gave a muffled, "What, the hell, do you think you're doing? I should be the one on top!" He only stopped complaining when Yuuri shouted above the din, "Accept this before I order you to!" The thrashing and blowing sounds faded away quickly after that.

"Order him? Oh, I'd like to see that one," came a voice, both familiar and out of breath.

The winds died away entirely, taking a few book pages along for the ride.

Everyone in the room slowly looked up—including Murata, who was blushing furiously from where Conrad's hand had just been seconds ago. He readjusted his glasses and tried to look the very picture of a wise sage. He wanted to readjust his underwear, too, but that would have drawn attention.

"Hello, boys," Tra'va cooed at them. She stood there--practically naked with only her leathery wings wrapped around her body securely like a second skin. Long blond hair fell from her shoulders and pieces cascaded down her back to mid-calf. Trouble gave her head a quick shake and noticed the color change. "Oi, I'm a blond now! How cute!" She gave her head a kind of swish that Yuuri had seen in slow motion on shampoo commercials. Her red eyes sparkled with joy. She toyed with a strand. "I seem to be taller now, too, thanks to the bone."

Wolfram's jaw was on the floor. "You…have a body now?" Much to Yuuri's chagrin, his blond bishonen pushed him away a little and stood up. Like a man in the dark, he approached the fox spirit with his palms out stretched. Touching her hair and face, he realized that they were, in fact, genuine.

"You chose the bone and the lock of hair…remember?" Tra'va said cheerily. "So, for the next twenty years, I'll have a body of my own again…thanks to you…" She smirked a little at that. But then she thought about it a bit more and rested a finger to her lips. "But, you know, for a bone that came from a 'man,' I certainly merged with it easily enough. Kind of…weird…"

That's because it was probably a woman's bone to begin with, Murata mused from behind his shiny glasses.

"Still," she said happily, "it was a good choice, Wolfram. I owe you."

The group approached the dais where Trouble was standing. Even the hermit ventured, if not somewhat timidly, back inside to see what was going on. He was more than surprised to see the fox of his dreams—or maybe, of his annoying nightmares—standing at the front of the shrine.

"And…I guess…this is…goodbye," Tra'va said with a thin smile. "Though, I must say that this was the most difficult journey that I've ever had. So, I'll remember you all…long after your children's children become elderly."

"Ah, more children for me, huh?" Murata said, amused. He scratched the side of his nose in thought and remembered, briefly, his first born child all of those eons ago. Twenty hours of labor just to expel a scrawny, crabby little boy with a scrunched up face and lungs like a banshee really sucked. Then again, Murata thought, he really did grow into a fine man and history would come to appreciate the achievements of Alexander von Voltaire.

She smiled at him deviously. "Of course…especially you," the fox spirit laughed back. "I saw it in your eyes the moment I met you. Your wife in this life will certainly have her hands full."

Yozak laughed a little at that. "Any clues as to who she is so that we will know who to look out for?"

Murata said with mirth, "If I knew that, I'd probably run and hide." He rested his hands on his hips boyishly. "Besides, flying foxes can't see the future."

"True, but spirits can—sometimes. And I'm a fox spirit." She gave him a toothy grin and enjoyed the brief look of panic on Murata's face.

Trouble ran her fingers through her long blond hair thoughtfully. "He's met her already…knows her… But she's not ready to be his wife just yet…not anybody's wife…yet…" Tra'va chuckled inwardly at the double image of Greta in her head—the child and the young woman to-be. She's not old enough now. But give her ten years to mature…and to understand her own fate with the sage… And, in some ways, thanks to Anissina, she'll be much more insightful than the sage himself. "He will be the intellect" Tra'va said, pointing to a wide-eyed Murata "and she will be the heart." Then, the fox spirit smiled."Of course, until that time, Murata Ken can certainly 'play' while he awaits his better half."

Trouble smiled deviously at the thought.

Murata raised a suspicious eyebrow and told his heart to quit thumping so hard. Someone might be able to hear it.

"But, as I said before, I suppose I have to say farewell." Trouble hopped down from the dais—much to the frowning of the hermit who thought this irreverent. She saw the look on his face and winked. She let the leathery wings slip a little lower to expose her chubby breasts. He blushed and she knew in an instant that he'd be a total pushover.

With a respectful and profound bow to Conrad, she said, "Thank you for tolerating me. I caused you anxiety, vexation, and tribulation. And each and every time, you returned it with kindness." And you do look so much like my father…not that I could ever tell you that. But, just seeing that face one last time was enough...even if something goes wrong in the future and I never make it to the heavenly realm.

Her head turned to Yozak and she practically skipped to him. "Yozak!" she gushed as she landed in his arms. He held her bridal style—to which Conrad cocked his head slightly. Trouble wrapped her arms around the orange haired spy and said, "Am I a cute blond or what?" She giggled at him.

"Absolutely beautiful." His voice was warm, kind. She drank up the sound of it one last time.

"You know, you've got the right coloring, too. You'd make a great blond."

"I've got a wig back at the castle. I wore it last month while under cover."

She laughed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I wish I could have seen that. Did it come with a dress?"

"Of course."

"Low cut…? But surely not…" She stroked his chest with a single finger in a pattern that felt a little too good to Yozak. She always had a way of doing that to him. He swallowed hard. Yozak continued, "Believe it or not, I can be quite convincing in the cleavage department."

Trouble nodded and he put her back on her feet. "You know, I believe you." She tilted her head up at him.

The spirit then turned to Murata. "I guess, I've got to say 'goodbye' to you, too—my daytime husband." She approached Murata and gave him a hug that plastered her whole body against him. Murata did his best to keep his features composed before the group, but several evil, amorous, and very skillful parts of him had other ideas and were conjuring them up before his eyes.

Trouble's arms wrapped around his shoulders and she leaned into his ear and whispered, "Ditch that possessive Shinou for a night and come see me."

"Here?" He hummed it back casually. Surely, not.

She snuggled into his face and whispered, "Next full moon, I can journey a little ways from here…say…the town inn at 8 PM?"

She pulled away with a seemingly respectful nod. Onyx eyes had a lustful "yes" to them.

Tra'va straightened her shoulders and placed her hands behind her back before saying the name "Yuuri." He glanced at her—his dark eyes innocent. The fox spirit set her face into one that seemed to say "Okay, buddy, it's your turn." She took a few steps in his direction and shrugged. "You know, Yuuri, I suppose…you're not so bad after all."

It didn't exactly sound like a ringing endorsement. But, he'd had worse during negotiations with other countries, especially the human ones.

Tra'va looked at him sincerely. "You saved Wolfram and…" Her mouth pruned up but she had to say it. "…And you saved me, too…" It had to be dumb luck. She rolled her eyes inwardly. "So…for that… Umm….Thanks, I guess…"

Behind her, Tra'va could hear a laugh. It was a strange sound and everyone turned. The laugh was Wolfram's. It suddenly occurred to Yuuri—as it did to them all as the seconds ticked on—that Wolfram rarely laughed anymore. Even the last few months, it was a sound that they'd not heard. Worse yet, they had never even missed it, but simply accepted that Wolfram didn't do it.

The laugh was a gift to her, truly. Trouble's face melted into a smile with a little fang hanging out. "I have to say 'bye' to you as well, Wolfram… Don't I…?" Her voice was kind and sad with an ethereal quality that came out of dreams. She turned around and looked into his face.

Yuuri's eyes widened when he saw Wolfram reach a hand out for her. It was like something out of the fairytales that he read to Greta. The handsome prince would extend his hand out—confidently, majestically—to the long haired damsel, who would take it and allow him to slowly draw her to him.

Tra'va certainly allowed Wolfram to do that.

The next thing Yuuri saw was Wolfram putting his pale hands on the woman's face, cupping her sharp features and staring into her eyes. Deep inside of him, Yuuri could feel The Maou struggling. He was not pleased at all with this farewell. And Yuuri found it hard to disagree with him. Feelings akin to imbalance, isolation, and abandonment were starting to surface. Yuuri told himself that he was sensing The Maou's emotions and that lying to himself at this moment was perfectly okay.

"Goodbye," Wolfram said, searching her face for something only the two of them understood. There were no blushes. No hesitations. Wolfram didn't worry that he would be rejected or that his touch would be unwelcome in any particular way. His profile was strong, confident, determined, and intimate—the very image of Shinou with the dramatic and passionate eyes that held a lover spellbound.

Then, he closed his eyes and kissed her.

Before Wolfram knew it, his arms were around Tra'va's shoulders and he was tugging her closer to him. Her arms were around him, palms of her hands pressed against his back.

Neither one cared that they were being watched. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing. It was natural.

"I'm jealous," Murata murmured loud enough for Yuuri to hear. His onyx eyes cut sneakily to one side to see Yuuri's reaction.

He got a disapproving "Hm" in return.

Oh, this could be fun… The sage held back a smirk and pressed on. "I didn't get a 'goodbye kiss.' Too bad, huh?" He glanced again and was pleased to see the double black's mouth turning down into a frown. Further, his hands were clinched into fists.

"Do you think he loves her?" Yuuri whispered.

Murata lost his glee at the question and readjusted his glasses with a finger. With his voice down low, he answered. "Yeah, probably…but he can't have her. It's the same story for him all over again. He can't have the person he's become bonded to."

Yuuri gave Murata a direct look, concerned. He didn't like the sage's implications. He felt that things were different now between himself and Wolfram.

The sage shrugged. "From his view point, he's alone again. And, worse yet, he's going back to the castle, back into the pubic eye, worse off than when he left."

Murata and Yuuri looked away to see Wolfram hugging Tra'va closely to him. The two blonds rested their foreheads together.

To Yuuri, Wolfram certainly looked every inch the man who was saying a brave "goodbye" to someone he cared for—maybe, even, loved. And, for the briefest second, the double black wondered what kind of farewell Wolfram would have given him, during those brief trips apart, had he been given the chance—or maybe "confidence" in their relationship. No, Yuuri shook his head at that because he knew better. Had Wolfram tried any of this even a week earlier, he would have been shoved away by a very red faced, embarrassed, heart-beating-hard, "Yuuri" who had a serious girlfriend back on Earth.

Murata glanced at Yuuri again. "If you want my advice about your ex-fiancé, I would suggest you begin by talking to The Maou. Ask if he'll negotiate something between you and Wolfram—if the king desires it, of course." The sage was no fool. He knew that The Demon King was watching behind Yuuri's eyes. He went on, "I think The Maou's intentions toward von Bielefeld are honorable, and I foresee the exchange of rings…or the like…" He finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

Yuuri's eyes widened. He'd guessed that much! But how?

"Just imagine the two of them without you in the picture…"

Yuuri blanched.

"Well, if he doesn't succeed," the sage mused, "it's going to make the honeymoon really awkward."

They began to make their journey homeward. Yuuri struggled with Morgif again. The sword was moaning and enjoying the fresh air, which he got very little of in the Treasure Room back at Blood Pledge Castle. The sword got the crazy notion that if he let Yuuri know just how much he enjoyed being outside, then he'd actually get to be outside more often—maybe with more sword practice with Conrad or Wolfram or something. Thus, the unbelievably loud, exaggerated, moans and groans. Yuuri felt embarrassment heat up his cheeks as he wrapped up the sword in a piece of cloth that he had in his saddlebag just for occasions like this one. The double black muttered darkly as he worked. Why couldn't he have a cool sword that was bright and shiny? Why couldn't he have a "singing" sword like out of Greta's fairytales? But, no. He had to have a demon sword with a personality attached to it that's sole form of communication was a series of mortifying moans!

"No thanks," Yuuri griped.

Morgif moaned.

"Hush!"

More moaning.

A cow stared at them.

"You're causing trouble and attracting attention." Even if we are in the middle of nowhere. But, still…!

Another moan, this one of protest, as the cloth covered his mouth. Fingers "accidentally" stuffed some cloth in like a gag.

The sword rattled in annoyance.

"And, Morgif?"

"Moan?"

"If you don't stop moaning, I'm going to tell the maids to stop dusting in the Treasure Room. And I'll let the dust bunnies attack you while you sleep."

Morgif didn't utter another word for the rest of the trip.

The clomping of horses on the hard road was starting to get on Wolfram's last nerve. He gritted his teeth together and decided to accept that the noise wasn't going to get any better. In fact, he had hours and hours of it ahead of him.

The blond looked back the way they'd come—again—for the hundredth time. Murata didn't miss it, doing his best to "keep an eye" on Wolfram without officially "keeping an eye" on him. The ex-prince's face was clouded with conflicting emotions. And he understood why.

"She'll be okay," the sage said, pulling his horse up to be closer to Wolfram's. "And you can visit her again, if you like. She said that, remember?"

Wolfram's waxy green eyes stared at him as a challenge for a second. Throwing in his two cents' worth when it was not welcomed… But, then Wolfram decided to let it pass. He didn't care if the sage saw him as weak or not. It didn't matter. Then, he blinked. Then…what does matter? The blond didn't know anymore. Almost instinctively, he called to Tra'va in his mind. There was no answer. And he felt foolish for doing it. But it had become a habit of talking to her when he felt confused or lonely. Right now, he was both. He wanted to hear her laugh at him, call him "idiot," and demand that Yuuri get a swift kick in the ass with an armored boot. Wolfram smirked a little at that last thought.

The white steed trotted after the rest. Conrad was leading the way. Yuuri was next to him. Murata, who decided that Wolfram's long silence was a request to be left alone again, urged his horse forward to chat some more with Yuuri. And, behind Wolfram, Yozak was following up the rear. His sky blue eyes searched the trees casually for possible attackers or robbers. But, everything seemed quite calm.

"And the road stretches on… Now, I'm tied to this ground…" Wolfram's voice sang under his breath.

Yozak's head turned slightly at the sound of Wolfram's voice. It wasn't like Wolfram to sing to pass the time. It was, however, very much like Tra'va to do so.

"What nature hands me is my work," the blond continued, "and I'm forever homeward bound." Wolfram hummed the rest quietly with eyes partially closed.

The song. She had left him with the song. As he concentrated on it, Wolfram could see an impish little girl with long, braided red hair tied back with a green ribbon. Her little bat wings flapped excitedly as she sat on Conrad's—no, not Conrad, but her father—yes, her father's knee. There was a heavy canvas sack full of fruit beside them. A pear. And her father took a bite out of one side and offered her a taste of it. She took a huge bite and chomped happily as her father sang the song to her. It was something they'd sing together—just the two of them. Their song about the orchard, their tie to the land, and the hope of a never ending, bountiful harvest. But, the song had been dead for centuries. And the little girl no longer existed.

I miss you, Wolfram thought. He looked up ahead and noticed Murata, Yuuri, and Conrad all chatting excitedly. They were heading back to the castle. They were going home. Wolfram sighed to himself. Home… Thanks to Tra'va, he now had a sense of what that was. But Wolfram wasn't sure that he had one or even wanted one anymore.

Now that he wasn't engaged to Yuuri anymore, he had a lot of choices ahead of him. Wolfram tried to think of it like that. He didn't want to focus on his loss of status as fiancé to The Demon King, or how his family in the von Bielefeld territory would be embarrassed and lose social status from his "failure to marry." They would, of course, work doubly hard to find him a substitute and give him a beautiful, albeit very quick and private wedding, to get him settled and out of circulation in the upper realm of the social circles. Wolfram decided that he'd fight them every step of the way—even if it meant being disinherited.

No more loveless engagements. There would be no negotiations on that one.

Wolfram wanted to choose his own path and pick his own life—living on his terms. Greta would be a priority. Human children grew up too fast. He could see a day when she would look twice as old as he was. Still, he was her father and would insist on being a part of her life. Wolfram also didn't dismiss the idea of having children of his own. Just how, whether by adoption or by a consort, he didn't know. But he liked the idea of Greta having siblings. The blond also decided that being with The Maou might not be so bad after all if they could keep their relationship as quiet as possible. He might have to bribe some of the maids to keep their mouths shut or hire his own staff who could be discrete… Either way, the next step would be moving the last of this things from Yuuri's bedroom. So, he'd begin with that.

In his heart, he called for Tra'va again and was met with silence. Wolfram cursed himself. He just kept on doing it. Why couldn't he stop?

Wolfram frowned and shook his head at himself for being so stupid. He'd always called Yuuri "the wimp," but he was, at the moment, both an ex-fiancé and King of the Wimps. He briefly imagined Yuuri bowing down to him. Then, Wolfram screwed up his face again and brushed the thought away.

Yozak watched Wolfram casually. A part of him knew that Wolfram was suffering and needed someone. His eyes flicked to Murata—who was laughing too loudly at a joke that Conrad had told badly, without a punch line.

Wolfram watched Murata, too, but had a slight smile when he did it. Someone was happy. Even if it wasn't him, that was okay. Then, he dropped the smile. Wolfram had to be honest with himself. He was miserable without the spirit within him. He raked his fingers through his blond hair. Up until today, he had another life living inside of him. It depended on him to survive and gave him company. It could feel his thoughts and his actions. It was a part of him. And that life loved him unconditionally—wanting to give him as little pain as possible. Wolfram sighed. Yes, he loved Tra'va, too. But he also knew, deep down, that he was not in love with her. He knew what "in love" felt like. And he wasn't sure if he had the taste for that anymore, either.

Yuuri turned around in the saddle and stared at the blond behind him.

Wolfram seemed tired and miserable. His body rocked in the saddle slightly with each step and his hands held the reins loosely. The green eyes were still the wrong shade, dark circles were under his eyes, and, added to the frustrations, he still had bruises coming up even though he'd been healed a couple of times. The blond's borrowed clothes were shabby and torn like a battlefield flag. Yet, despite that, Wolfram von Bielefeld still had the aura of a handsome prince.

"Wolfram, are you okay?" he called behind him.

The blond slightly colored at the sudden attention he was getting. Not again! He crossed his arms with a pout and looked away. "I'm fine," he said with an edge to it, willing it and being determined for everyone to just accept it and to go on with their lives.

Conrad and Yozak locked eyes again with the message, He's lying.