Ballet of Kings and Dolls

by Mirai Kurosaki

A doll claimed Wolfram's affection before Yuri arrived. It wants it back and much more. A Wolframcentric tale. Yuri/Wolfram.

9. Meet Me

Author's Notes: Wow! Anyone remember this story? Thank you to those who have continued to support this story. I can only hope some of you are still reading this.

This is an extremely long chapter. This is actually three chapters put into one. It was the least I could do for being away so long. I'm sorry I didn't break it up into smaller chapters if that's a bother to anyone.

Anyway, forgive any errors. I did my best to comb through this lengthy piece. There's a lot of characters to bounce around from, though Wolfram is still the priority.

Just a little note. Dividers like this: -x- is more of a point of view jump in the current scene rather than a major scene change, which follows this instead: -x-X-x-

Warnings:

Violence, light graphic details

-x-X-x- …Meet Me... –x-X-x-

Wolfram felt awful. His body, pushed to near exhaustion, barely compared to how his mind faired. So many emotions, none of them good, tumbled around in him. With time he could probably name them all. Until then, he felt them weave in and out of each other and push against his temples, his eyes, and chest. The only remotely good quality was that they had been rewarded by seeing Lady Celi released.

Her release brought life into Wolfram's lungs and he let out the longest breath he could. He opted to put his fury on the pedestal of his emotions, fury at the doll he once treasured so long ago and found solace in. Any other emotion might be too dangerous to venture into given their predicament.

At the same time, he gathered his soldier's training and accepted the drink Lord Varick had brought. Wolfram stared at the water, vaguely hearing the man speak of where he got it. All Wolfram saw was the distorted image of a living area they currently occupied. He wondered what other memories stained the carpets, what secrets the walls kept under their paint.

Wolfram took a shaky sip of the water.

"I'm sorry," Lord Varick said. Wolfram realized the man was speaking to him.

Swallowing and grimacing at the cold chill that grabbed his nerves. He didn't answer the man, instead sneaking a glance to Yuri, who was also having his fill of water. During the embrace they had shared, they heard glass break and it broke their moment together. Though Lord Varick had eased their minds about it, Wolfram still found himself stuck in the moment before the shatter; something had pulled them all together, to press close and cling to one another for fear of who knew what else. Wolfram didn't want to think about what had happened but he wondered if it hadn't been for the shattering, would they have ever let each other go.

Yuri glanced at him and Wolfram could tell Yuri battled with his emotions as well. His optimism and kindness overpowered anything else as he reached out and went back to healing Conrad's injuries.

Now everything felt more vile. Wolfram studied the cup in his hand, which had weighed so heavily only moments earlier. Either his strength hadn't abandoned him completely or he was on the verge of losing touch with reality. He couldn't even feel his voice, even locate where it could be.

Yuri spoke though back to Lord Varick. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice weak but still lined with optimism. "I…we just," he trailed off, collected himself, then finished, "I felt bad for her in the end. I wonder if all them had a sad story. I wonder if things could have been different."

"She had to die. Perhaps she is in a better place now," Lord Varick tried, kneeling beside Conrad to tend to his injuries as well. Yuri had already spent himself once on the man already.

Wolfram didn't have the energy to shoot Varick a look. He was sure no one else believed she was in a better place. If anything, she was a memory the walls whispered about in this wretched house. They had to get out.

"At least Mother is free," Conrad reminded, eyes trying to stay open. His injuries had done a number on him but he knew they'd heal—and Lord Varick had secured his shoulder back in place. He wasn't sure how well the other two would handle the mental burden of the incident.

"Hm." Wolfram set the cup down and pressed his forehead to his hands. They weren't in the room any longer yet still the stench of the sheets that had felt seared into his skin permeated the room, mingling in with Conrad's blood.

"Wolfram…?"

Wolfram shut his eyes tighter at Yuri's soft voice. Pain bubbled beneath his eyelids and something akin to rage spurned his ability to speak and shift. "We have to keep moving," he said, scowling at how meek his voice sounded.

"Wait, Wolf-"

"We can't wait!" Wolfram whirled around, regretted the act, and clung to a table to prevent from tipping. "Miss Maiden. Look what she's done and it's my fault," he shot Yuri a hard look, "Don't try to tell me otherwise! I'm not going to stop here. I'm not going to mourn over a doll that tried to have us killed."

He wasn't going to break down. A soldier didn't do that, Wolfram didn't do that. His hand trembled against the table and he was surprised it wasn't already rattling under his touch. A soldier, he reminded himself. Duties came before anything personal, Yuri came before anything else; he had to protect Yuri.

Conrad and Yuri had soft eyes and Wolfram didn't think he could take another second of them. To his brief satisfaction, he didn't have to: the floor beneath them rumbled and sprung to liquid life.

"Yuri…!" Wolfram's cry drowned, his body—along with the others'—too quickly engulfed by the floor.

He had fallen into a black abyss that quickly cleared and grew warm around him. Water cuddled him, even seemed to nudge him in a direction that took him deeper into the pit. With little choice and breath hitching, his body moved deeper, only to break the surface. Sweet air filled his lungs again. The world aligned itself and he could hear the others gasping as well.

"Yuri? Conrart?" he called out blindly, coughing and shaking his eyes of heavy water.

"Over here," he heard Conrad say somewhere to his left. He didn't sound as tired as before.

When his vision cleared, Wolfram saw Varick reach down and pull him out onto a smooth surface. Wolfram scrambled around and quickly found Conrad and Yuri out of the water as well, water that Wolfram saw was in the large space of one of the bathing areas of the castle. Most likely it was part of the distorted castle Miss Maiden had a spell on and not the castle they called home.

"We're back?" he panted, steadying onto his feet to rush to Yuri. He looked over his fiancé and found no sign of foul play. Furtively, he did a once over on Conrad as well and found him equally unharmed.

Actually, there was no harm at all evident on the man. "Conrart, your injuries…"

The brunette looked down at the mentioning, patting himself down in the process. "They're gone. Wolfram?"

"Mine too." Wolfram confirmed by pressing harder into his side. Nothing. No searing ache or bile building up in his throat. He automatically faced Lord Varick, expecting him to elaborate.

The man shrugged a shoulder and wrung out the end of his shirt. Water collapsed back onto the surface as he spoke, "I can only assume we need to be at full health for out next task. That, or Miss Maiden pities us."

"Yes." The voice sobered them up instantly. On the other side of the bath, a doll waited for them. Her face had a less sinister or mischievous touch to it but Wolfram didn't let that dissuade him. Her feet were bare and she wore a one piece, frilled bathing attire. "This way," she said, "You may rest ahead."

"What of the puzzles?" Conrad said, fingers scrambling for his sword, only to find it gone.

The doll turned her back to them. "No puzzle. Rest," she insisted, walking ahead without them.

Wolfram was quick to glance at Lord Varick.

The man's face was too unreadable, possibly because of his nonhuman descent, but Wolfram had still gotten the impression something was different about their guide. "We can follow her," Lord Varick said, without looking at any of them. He helped Yuri and Conrad to their feet and trailed behind the doll without another word. Though her feet looked clean, each step left a red footprint behind.

So, they followed with wariness, heavy feet, and even heavier hearts.

-x-X-x-

Their resting quarters were unfamiliar rooms, suggesting Miss Maiden still had her illusion intact. The doll, to their uneasiness, supplied them with towels before they entered the room. She informed that inside were two beds and a door that led into an identical room. In the south wall of the second room loomed a long, red door that would not open until the next challenge. It would come after their respite, so the doll claimed.

She never entered the room and she waved once they were all in. The door creaked shut behind them and clicked.

"It seems we have no choice," Conrad said, peeling out of his jacket. He approached a dresser between the beds and cautiously tugged open the drawers. "There's clothes in here."

"Weapons too," Lord Varick called from the adjoining room, "A sword for each of us."

Wolfram took in what they said as he searched the cabinets mounted to one wall. "Food," he exclaimed, leaning close to confirm what curled off the full plates was steam. He shut the cabinet and opened it again, a new meal having replaced the old one.

"Whoa." Yuri watched and then shut the cabinet himself to test its magic. Another meal waited for him when he reopened it. "Wow, it changes everytime!"

"She must want us in top shape for what's to come." Conrad came behind them to see.

Wolfram snorted and pried away from the group and rolled off his stubborn clothing. "More like she's taunting us."

Silence answered him and then he practically felt Yuri's sad look. "Wolfram…"

Wolfram broke in with a mean look to Lord Varick. "This isn't a free show. I'm promised to Yuri. It's unbecoming to have others watch me undress when there's clearly another room for you to be in."

Lord Varick glanced at Conrad after nodding his understanding. He slipped into the room and his footsteps were echoed by Conrad, who, after lingering his eyes on Wolfram for a moment, also went to the room.

"Sleep, you two. I'll have the first shift," Conrad said before he shut the door to allow them privacy, and partly to avoid hearing a protest to his comment. The moment the door shut, his eyes shut and he willed his hand to release the knob. "What's going on?" he asked.

The man-sized doll sat on the ground, leaning against the wall like he wasn't the wet dog he looked to be. His eyes were shut but his mouth moved. "Miss Maiden is always watching us," he stopped a moment, "Someone else sometimes watches too."

"Someone else?" Conrad faced him, forgetting the chill on his skin.

"Someone worse."

"How much worse?"

Lord Varick opened his eyes but didn't seem to be staring at anything. "I'm in trouble."

On the other side of the door, Yuri turned away as Wolfram undressed.

"Why did you look away?" Wolfram's nose was wrinkling and his lips were caving down.

Yuri stumbled over his thoughts. "I didn't…After what happened, I j-Wolfram!" He inhaled sharply, taking in Wolfram's scent as the blonde's fingers held his wet collar.

"Don't do that." Wolfram forced Yuri to meet his eyes. "I'm your fiancé. Don't look at me like broken goods."

"I didn't say that!"

"You were thinking it!" Wolfram released Yuri but stomped closer, invading his space.

Yuri didn't give him the satisfaction of stepping back. "Don't assume you know what I think! I…"

"What?"

"What am I supposed to do, Wolfram?" Yuri huffed back in his face as he formulated some sort of articulate sentence. "I know it wasn't our fault what happened back there but I…"

Wolfram strained to hear what was said. "You wimp, speak up," he growled.

"I never felt so weak," Yuri whispered, nose tipped down.

What irritation had crossed over Wolfram's face melted off.

"I had changed," Yuri continued, dropping onto the edge of one bed, "And yet still, I felt so drained. I don't even remember some bits when I was in that form. I couldn't save the girl. I couldn't save you. That's what I remember."

Wolfram listened and breathed in as deeply as he could. Wrapped in just the towel, he plopped down beside Yuri. He offered a bit of himself. "Miss Maiden once told me early on that there were others like her, most who stayed silent if they had an owner. Some spoke, especially to children. She said that all the dolls all knew each other though."

Yuri glanced at him. "She did?"

"Yes. She told me about some of them. They all had a background, stories to tell. She never went into a lot of details but, now that all this has happened, it makes me think they had lives. Real lives," Wolfram brought his eyes to find Yuri's, "Sad ones."

"Wolfram," Yuri murmured. He didn't flinch when Wolfram leaned forward and rested his forehead against his.

"Don't say you're weak." Wolfram kept the rest to himself, tempted to add that it was Yuri who had shown him a higher meaning of strength. It was a meaning that kept Wolfram standing in this situation, kept him from bursting into a furious tantrum.

And he was greeted in kind with Yuri resting his hand on his back, his fingers cold but the touch still warming Wolfram up. "Thanks, Wolfram," he said in a quieter tone.

Wolfram rolled his eyes though they had closed. A small, curious part of him—the part that nipped at his conscious on a daily basis—wanted him to bring the conversation to fruition about their engagement. But Wolfram found Yuri's forehead oddly comfortable, his scent just as appealing as it had always been, no matter how morbid the circumstances.

At last, Wolfram opened his eyes slowly, after realizing he had been leaning against his fiancé for what felt a while. Yuri made a cute sound, a kind of chuckle through his nose.

"Funny?"

"I just thought it was funny that we fight and then could go be having ice cream the next minute."

Wolfram tilted his head. "Ice cream?"

Yuri laughed softly and leaned back on his hands with a shake of his head. "I'm glad you're here, Wolfram, however crazy the ride has been."

Unsure where the comment stemmed from, Wolfram failed to keep the blush piling into his cheeks. "Hmph," he turned his head away and knew he was glad Yuri was with him too, despite knowing it would be better if he was alone in the endeavor. A big part of him wasn't sure what he'd do without him during this.

Wolfram couldn't stop himself from asking. "What if she takes me away?"

"What?"

Wolfram dared to meet his eyes again, scared those dark eyes would betray him. "Some fiancé you are. You wouldn't even fight to keep me from her clutches?" he spoke in his jesting tone but his heart swelled, awaiting Yuri's reaction.

"Of course I'd fight," Yuri objected, sitting upright again, "Not just because I'm your fiancé, Wolfram. You're a precious person to me, and Conrad cares about you, and Gwendel, and I'm pretty sure Gunter would miss you, and of course I can't raise Greta alone."

The double black chuckled at the memories of their family endeavors. But Wolfram was fixated on how Yuri had phrased his hasty response. "You recognized that you're my fiancé," he said.

Yuri blinked twice. He looked up as if he was hitting the replay button in his head. "I…did. Well, I-It's that…I meant, it doesn't matter, it just matters that-"

Wolfram huffed and tuned out the rambling. "Like I said, some fiancé you are."

"Wolfram."

The tone pulled Wolfram's attention directly back to Yuri. His face had grown firm. "Wolfram," he said again, "I…don't know what it is about us. I can't answer that all that well. I just know…"

Wolfram waited, crossed his arms, despite how less-than-intimidating he really looked.

"I know you're special and…"

"And?"

Yuri threw his hands up into the air and got up. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Wolfram could only watch in some amusement at how his fiancé undressed quickly, dried himself even faster, and yanked on a tunic and dark breeches. Then, he went to the other bed and pulled back the blanket.

Wolfram deflated at the silence and perked up again when Yuri looked at him.

"Are you getting to bed?" Yuri waved his hand to the bed he was getting into.

"Oh." Wolfram didn't notice how unintelligent that sounded. His mechanics kicked in and he finished drying off, did the best he could with his hair, and also pulled on a similar outfit before he was crawling over Yuri to reach the other side of the bed.

He settled in, his back against the wall to allow Yuri enough room himself.

His King was smiling again as he dragged the blankets over them. It was meek, nervous even, but Wolfram drowned in it all over again. With as much of a smug look as he could muster, Wolfram acted like any fiancé would—and snuggled right up to Yuri, an arm draping around his waist. Yuri really had grown in so many ways since he'd arrive.

However, this same idiotic King of his was still unaware of his power over Wolfram, unaware that the mere sound of his voice could have Wolfram's face flushed, stomach jumping, and knees aching.

All that came out though, despite the turmoil in Wolfram's head, was a sigh of, "Yuri."

"W-Wolfram…? H-Hey," Yuri shifted, face growing hot but the tone in the blonde's voice softened his resistance. Swallowing a lump of emotions, he extended his arms and rested them around Wolfram's arms. Assurance surged through him, almost reminding him of being a child who rushed to his mother or father when he got scared. There was familiar warmth to promise him it would go away in holding Wolfram. Maybe being so detached from reality had increased his reliance on the blonde that much more.

Whatever it was, Yuri clung to it and buried his face in Wolfram's hair. "You know, I don't really know what to say around you sometimes."

"There's nothing to say," Wolfram muttered against him, though he wished Yuri would say a lot of things, "We face our next challenge, plan to take Miss Maiden down. For good."

"I'm sorry."

At that, Wolfram pulled back and propped himself up on an elbow. "What?"

Yuri frowned at him. "I wasn't here when it happened but," a pause, "I'm sorry no one believed you about her."

After what may have been hours for all they knew, Wolfram sighed through his nose and rolled his eyes. "You're too soft."

"What?" Yuri grumbled and also pushed himself up. "What ki-"

Wolfram held up his hand and shoved Yuri's face into the pillow. "Idiot. If you stay up anymore, I think your eyes will fall out. Go to sleep," he said. A small part of him tucked away Yuri's kindness into a niche in his heart. He didn't want to discuss the topic though.

"Oof. Wolfram, but-" Yuri shut up fast at the mean look on Wolfram's face, rimmed with dark circles. "Hmph." Though he didn't protest, Yuri also reached up and shoved Wolfram into a pillow. He was shot half a nasty look until it glazed over quickly. Exhaustion overcame everything else and both boys prepared to drift off, knees touching in assurance that neither of them would vanish during the break. Wolfram shifted under the blanket, his hand finding Yuri's.

At another time, Wolfram would have felt just a bit shocked at how Yuri's palm welcomed him and the way the double black's fingers slowly curled over his own.

I love you, Yuri.

Whether Miss Maiden still toyed with him or if it was the fatigue, Wolfram thought he felt Yuri's lips on his head just as sleep overcame him.

That night, nightmares still played behind their eyelids.

-x-X-x

Their next clue came in the bloody footprints leading from the red door. Fed, healed, equipped, and relatively rested with what sleep they could gather, the four had trailed after the footprints. They led them to a long recess of empty hallway, void of doors or corners from the looks of it.

Yuri remembered his chest fluttering when he saw Wolfram already up but the blonde didn't mention anything of their talk last night. Silence weighed on them, their attention focused back on the situation at hand. Still, Yuri caught himself looking at his own hand more than once, the one that had held Wolfram's throughout the night.

Save for a few words of caution, neither Conrad nor Lord Varick said much. Conrad had plenty to say and for the time being, he pocketed everything for a later time. Until then, they filtered out and into the deep hallway and clung to the silence, waiting for the first sound that didn't come from them.

It came when they reached an intersection and foreign footsteps had them stopping. Two forms shuffled forward and Yuri was the first to break into a smile.

"Murata! Gwendel!"

"Ah, Shibuya, you're all alright." Murata sighed softly, eyes smiling at their reunion. A pregnant pause fell on them and they shared a mutual expression. Both groups had had their share of challenges. "You look like you got some rest," The Great Sage said.

"Miss Maiden seems to want us in good condition," Conrad said, meeting his brother's gaze with a narrowed one. In one fluid move, he drew his sword at the same time that Gwendel did, their blades prepared to face off.

"Conrad!" Yuri grabbed his godfather's elbow. "What are you doing?"

Conrad nudged his King back, his eyes never leaving Gwendel's. "Do you believe them to be genuine, Your Highness?" In truth, he found himself reluctant to call them dolls but he couldn't risk it. His gut told him they were authentic but given that this was not their territory, they very well could be made up of insects for all he knew.

"What?" Yuri looked back at the two, reminded again of the scene in the garden with the impersonators. "Murata?"

The Great Sage laughed nervously and drew up both hands. "I see you've had your share of imposters as well. We are the real deal though. How could anyone replicate my charm, Shibuya?"

Gwendel already had the boy behind him though, eyes taking each of them in with a keen, mean eye.

"Relax." Lord Varick pushed down Conrad's blade and kept walking down the hallway. "They're not dolls."

"How do you know?" Wolfram asked Varick but continued looking at Gwendel, feeling those familiar, strong past by him. He couldn't believe a doll could replicate them so well, especially the feral way they looked at Lord Varick.

Conrad noted it as well. If Lord Varick vouched for them, it validated his gut feeling. That didn't mean he dismissed the wrinkles plaguing Gwendel's otherwise taut face. The man was repressing something and wasn't speaking of it—or maybe he couldn't.

"We need to keep moving. I said they're not imposters so start walking." Lord Varick pressed forward without their approval.

Wolfram kept watching Gwendel's face and he had to turn away when the intensity grew too severe. He sheathed his weapon and tugged Yuri's elbow so that the King was in the middle of their flock. Something dropped into his stomach when he understood his inability to tend to Gwendel or Murata's well being.

They had to keep moving.

Wolfram felt that if they stopped for too long, something trailing behind them would catch up. What it was, he couldn't pinpoint but he had the suspicion the others felt it too.

Both brothers sheathed their weapons and shared a nod as they brought up the rear of the group. Conrad smiled faintly. "We freed mother," he offered.

"That's good. We freed someone too," Murata said back to him.

"Who?" Yuri asked.

"Gunter," Gwendel confirmed, "He seemed unconscious the whole time though."

"I suppose that's good. I doubt he would have taken well to the sight of what you had to do," Conrad said, analyzing Gwendel's body language. The nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

"What did you have to do?" Yuri asked. He didn't want to glance down at the floor and see the blood anymore.

"It's not important," Gwendel stated. His face stayed stoic, eyes watching Varick lead the way.

Murata looked at Yuri and said with a knowing albeit soft touch to his words, "Do you want to share what you had to do?"

Wolfram winced beside Yuri, hoping it went unnoticed. Training helped him force down the memories. Since they had left, none of them had spoken of it, or much of anything else. It had felt inappropriate to speak in the stretch of hallway. It felt haunted, as if waiting to spook them. They hadn't bothered to talk for fear they would miss a sound.

When Wolfram thought Yuri might answer, Varick said, "We're here."

The blood that Yuri had been avoiding met his eyes. A door stood before them, as tall as a pine tree and wide enough for three sets of shoulders to pass through. Blood jumped off the ground and now smeared the door like a finger-painting exercise gone wrong. The handle was untouched by the dark color.

"I'm not sure how many more we'll have to put up with," Murata murmured, waiting to see if the door would bite. If a door could leer and bully someone, this one was doing it.

Lord Varick glanced back at them, looked back to the door, and opened it for them. The deep groan that came from the door sliding open was appropriate for its size. It seemed the sound echoed forever as they came to an enormous chamber. It resembled the ball room of their castle.

Wolfram screened the area, squinting at the lack of light until the candles lining the walls and chandeliers burst to life.

The sight made him cringe, unsure of what to make of the spectacle. "What is this…?"

He stepped forward with his brothers and took in what must have been thirty or so people posed along the floor. Their toes and hands pointed in ways that looked as if though they were frozen in mid dance. Clothing appropriate for a ball draped over their bodies but most were shredded, their rags dangling off their limbs like broken spider webs.

"Are they stone?" Gwendel stepped closer, cautious in his movements. His face went slack and he stepped back in horror when he saw the painted face of a familiar servant girl. Her lips were forced into a smile and her eyes were wide open. He could see her pulse flutter against her neck and limbs quiver. She did nothing to acknowledge him.

By Conrad's hiss, Gwendel knew the man he had figured it out as well. It wasn't long before Wolfram gasped and Yuri cried out.

"They're alive! Everyone, we're here to help!" Yuri reached to touch one but Wolfram yanked him back.

"Don't! We don't know what's happened to them," Wolfram said, staring at the captive servants.

Murata approached and rested a hand on Yuri's arm. "Do you hear that?"

The group held their breaths. A round of escalating heartbeats went between them and then they heard it, the fleeting pitch in a giggle.

"Welcome," a doll's voice said. Her voice bounced along the walls playfully.

"Welcome," another said, rushing under a servant's poised legs in a ghostly blur that made the group wonder if she had scuttled by their to begin with.

"Welcome!" feet scurried behind them but when they turned, nothing.

Wolfram clenched his jaw and he felt pressure rising from furrowing his eyebrows so hard. "There's more than one this time?" His eyes scanned the area. The more they whipped their heads around, the more dolls they felt brush by, like they rode on a passing breeze.

"Look there." Murata shot his arm out and the others followed its line of direction.

Beyond the forest of servants, with enough searching, they made out a clearing on the opposite side. A massive door waited for them, shrouded by what at first looked like reliefs. Squinting harder, Wolfram realized that it wasn't an adorned wall but indeed a door under six gigantic, gold hands. Their fingers were in mid-curl, as if prepared to claw the door apart. One finger alone was the size of Wolfram.

"We have to make it across," Gwendel said, his voice less convincing than usual.

Yuri groaned at the prospect and sucked in his breath when a giggle sounded too close to him. He bumped into Wolfram and the blonde mimicked his surprised sound. "Wimp," Wolfram hissed, but he held onto Yuri's arm in a fierce grasp.

"Are we going to be properly greeted or not?" Conrad's voice boomed through the room, stilling the vaporous sounds. The commanding tone, at first, made Wolfram easy. He wondered if it had somehow upset the dolls.

Then, the teeth-grinding sound of glass on hard-wood sent them all into a defensive posture. Six dolls peered out from around the frozen servants and breached the first line of limbs so that they were in full view for the group to see.

Wolfram curled his hand around the hilt of his weapon when he saw their bare, porcelain feet smudged with red; they left no footprints. They ranged from cropped hair to long, heavy curls that looked ready to swallow their small bodies. Unlike the past dolls they had met, these dolls wore bruised dresses, their hairs matted and knotted. Cracked hands and scratched faces told stories of neglect and Wolfram found these tattered dolls more haunting than the others. Wolfram and the others tried not to imagine what their stories were.

"One for each of us," Murata whispered nearby.

At last, Lord Varick spoke as he took the head of the group. "Let us through. We've killed all your friends thus far. We'll do the same to you."

A doll with cracks around her eyes tilted her head to one side, hard. Wolfram's eye twitched at the snap it made when she did and he snarled. "We are getting across one way or another!"

Yet before he could move forward, the ethereal murmur swept over their heads.

"Patience, my Prince…"

Wolfram grimaced and balled his hands into tighter fists, one still curled harshly around the hilt of his blade.

"The dolls before you took me a while to unearth. Broken, unwanted, ready to cut some skin as retribution…"

The six dolls broke into fits of giggling. Their limbs cracked and squeaked when they jerked them around, leaving a terrible echo in their wake.

"One by one, you will waltz through. If you touch any of your loyal servants, they will set their sights on your death. You'll find that incapacitating them without killing them will be a painful experience…"

Yuri broke in, calling up to the ceilings. "Miss Maiden, please! This is all unnecessary! You don't have to do thi-Ah!"

"Yuri!" Wolfram and Conrad caught the double black before he collided into the wall. The gust of angry wind had chucked Yuri back, its fingers tangling in all their hair as it surged around them. It died as quickly as it had been called out.

"It is very necessary, Your Highness. Once you reach the end, you will be that much closer to me…"

Her voice blew past them and a waltz chimed to life. The music filtered through from an unknown source but Wolfram and the others did little to notice that. They fixated stares on how the dolls tucked back into the crowd. A simultaneous intake of air startled Wolfram and his heart dropped when he recognized it was the servants that had made the noise.

Their bodies shifted and, involuntarily, they moved to the rhythm of the song.

Wolfram's face got stuck in another wince at the display. Their bodies moved in unison, the men leading the unnatural dance. It wasn't until a few steps into the dance did Wolfram see why the dance looked so unusual, their feet always gliding upon the floor in a manner that defied gravity. Above the dancers' heads, clinging to their limbs, were thin strings.

"This is madness." Gwendel snorted. Wolfram didn't have to look at him to know he was grinding his teeth.

"I'm going first," Varick said, glancing back at them.

Yuri stared at him. "But-"

"Lord Varick," Murata said, stepping up to the man, "Wait-"

"I'm going." Lord Varick stepped closer to the swaying pack of dancers.

Murata narrowed his eyes.

Any protests boiled under the surfaces of tightly pressed lips, save for Wolfram and Yuri. "You can't mess this up," the blonde snapped at him.

"No matter what, you can't hurt any of them. They have nothing to do with this." Yuri's eyes pleaded with the man and though Varick nodded to him, Yuri didn't feel any sense of relief.

Lord Varick proved to be the best candidate to cross first. His spine-crooking ways and light feet set his success rate higher than the others. His clothing had changed back in the break room, his cape luckily no longer an addition to his attire, and his hair was pulled up high to avoid any snaring fingers.

Wolfram felt a smile tickle his lips—it had been so long since he felt it—when their guide reached the other side. "He made it!"

Lord Varick waved at them to assure his safety and he faced the covered door. They could only make out his movements slightly, broken up by the dance sweeping to and fro. Eventually, he turned back to them and waved again, his head shaking.

"Seems we all need to get to the other side then." Conrad already realigned the sheath slung at his hips; the less cumbersome he was, the better.

"Conrart," Wolfram whispered, his fingers feeling cold at the idea of Conrad going next.

Murata glanced at Gwendel and the man gave him a grim look.

"No." Gwendel hissed, careful that no one would hear. "No discussion."

Conrad looked at his youngest brother but Wolfram flushed and looked away, memories of the playhouse picking at his brain. Conrad's posture relaxed and he rested a hand on the blonde's shoulder, noting how it almost trembled beneath his touch. "Wolfram, I'm going to cross next. I entrust His Highness to you. There may be a way for us to all get through without problems."

Wolfram listened to the words but he heard something else entirely. The touch burned his skin and he repressed the urge to jerk away from him. Conrad was right though. They had to get Yuri through this safely but somehow Wolfram felt that Conrad wasn't just implying Yuri's safety.

"Conrart," Wolfram said again and then jerked his head away, "Don't mess up and embarrass your demon heritage, however little of it you have."

Smiling, Conrad nodded and looked at Yuri. "Trust me."

Yuri could only crack a half smile. "See you on the other side," he said, feeling his tongue so thick in his mouth.

Conrad gave a final nod to Gwendel and Murata before he approached the edge. The music had picked up but the movements hadn't altered much. He had watched Varick exceptionally close and though he couldn't contort his body, he put his turned up his willpower. Eyes flicking to the side, Conrad counted their steps before he turned to the side and slipped in between a man and woman.

The moment Conrad became part of the dance, Wolfram forgot to breathe regularly. His chest clamped up and his face stayed glued to the scene though part of him wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands until it was over. But he watched, his spine tingling whenever he thought Conrad would slip up. His half-brother was trained though, in combat and in the ballroom, however much Wolfram had denied to at first. In another setting, Wolfram could have admired how well of a dancer Conrad really was, ample on his toes and aware of every part of his body.

"He's going to make it," Yuri gasped, face brimming with glee, "He's almost there."

Steps away from Lord Varick, Conrad's face hardened when he heard a giggle among the shuffling of dancers. He stayed focused, not daring to break up his movements to see if a doll was around and risk touching one of the servants. He hadn't touched any thus far but he felt filthy, as if their forced smiles and wide eyes clung to him like leeches. In his gut, he knew they saw him and were shrieking in their heads for someone to save them.

And that's when he slipped up. Another giggle resounded. Conrad stepped back as a female servant twirled in front of him. She would dance to the side, leaving a gap for him to squeeze through before the next twirling woman came. But when his right leg stepped back to prepare for just that, he felt the vicious tear into his calf.

"Conrart!" Wolfram rushed as close as he could, seeing Conrad cry out and stumble to avoid bumping into a dancer. His heart screamed against his ears as he could only watch. Beside him, Yuri called to his godfather.

"Stay there!" Conrad didn't waver in his demand. His adrenaline pulsed against his eardrums as he improvised, trying to remember where he should step. A doll rushed by his other leg and he felt cold, sharp fingertips drag along his back. He couldn't help but shout and there, he saw an opening. He leapt, used his hands to brace his body for a roll, and he was out of the dance, crashing by Lord Varick's feet.

Lord Varick dropped by his side, eyes rushing back to the dancers. None of them made to attack.

"Conrart!"

Conrad winced and stood up with Lord Varick's aid He waved at the group. "I'm fine!"

"What happened?" Gwendel's voice cut through the music easily.

"Be careful," Conrad shouted back, "The dolls attacked me."

Yuri paled. "What?"

"Of course," Wolfram spat, glaring at the crowd. He couldn't detect any of the dolls hidden among them. Conrad had narrowly failed. All the implications from that made the situation seem that much bleaker.

Yuri meanwhile hadn't dropped his voice. "Conrad, are you alright?" he asked and rushed forward, as close as he could get. Before anyone could order him to keep a safer distance back, the music screeched to a stop and the servants halted in mid-step.

The plummet into silence shut everyone else up. Wolfram was by Yuri in an instant, gripping his arm. Strings plucked somewhere in the distance as the servants whirled around to face them, their wide eyes directly on Yuri.

"Your Highness, step back," Gwendel said, reaching out to snatch the double black's shirt.

In a collective move, the sea of servants took an obedient stance and split in two, parting so that they cleared a path toward the door. Head down and either bowing or curtseying, their demented voices rang out. "Your Highness, Our Demon King."

A muscle in Yuri's face twitched. "What the…"

They could see Lord Varick and Conrad clearly from their spot. The two men looked hesitant to move but Conrad tried it anyway, taking a step closer to the path.

"Your Highness, Our Demon King," the crowd sang again, their voices dropping octaves.

"Don't, Lord Weller." Murata shook his head at Conrad then focused his attention on Yuri, "Shibuya."

Yuri swallowed but nodded, his eyes dropping what fear he initially had. His hand curled around Wolfram's stubborn ones. "Wolf…"

The blonde heard the way the servants had spoken when Conrad had stepped closer. Even so, he scowled, "You're going to let him walk through?"

"Wolfram." Gwendel's voice didn't allow for argument.

Again, the servants called for their Demon King.

Yuri's fingers rubbed over Wolfram's. "Shouldn't keep them waiting, huh?" Yuri put on a small chuckle.

Wolfram saw the genuine hints of a smile under it. "Can't wait to find a pretty face to cheat on me with, huh?" He knew it came out weak though.

His fiancé's face didn't suggest he thought the same though. His smile strengthened at Wolfram's words and he squeezed the hand around his arm once more before it released him. With a deep inhale and shoulders squared back, Yuri started walking forward.

Eyes followed him, not just that of his comrades but of his servants. Their backs bowed still, their bodies faced him, hungrily eyeing his every step down the path.

"Our Demon King becomes the whore," their chant started, voices escalating so high and distorted that it mimicked strangled cats, "The King becomes the whore…"

Yuri's chest almost erupted at the change but he resisted running. He kept walking, though he swallowed a few hard lumps down his throat and felt sweat break out on his palms and forehead. He couldn't stop glancing at his servants, feeling his legs grow weak at the sight of what had been done to them.

Without incident, Yuri crossed the pathway and into the arms of his godfather. "Conrad! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine." Conrad gripped Yuri's shoulders and studied the servants. Their song had stopped and as if Yuri had never crossed their path, they melted back into a dance as the music hurried back to life.

Yuri. Wolfram exhaled, feeling less ill knowing that Yuri had made it across.

"Lord von Bielefeld."

Wolfram turned his head, finding the Great Sage fixing an enigmatic look on him. "What is it?"

"Do you recall what Miss Maiden said about this challenge?" Murata waited and supplied the rest when Wolfram narrowed his eyes at him. "If we bump into any servants, they'll attack that person until they're dead."

"Supposedly we'd have to kill them if we wanted them to stop," Gwendel added, looking at the double black. His arms were crossed in a manner that told Wolfram he was contemplating. Hard.

Murata sighed at the image of a slaughtering. "Yes, that's what I suspect as well. However, I think we should approach it like Miss Maiden would. However…"

Wolfram narrowed one eye at him. "What do you mean?"

"Remember what she said? We'd find it painful to stop them. Don't you remember what she told you at the very start of all of this?" Murata leaned closer, prompting Wolfram to think hard.

The blonde eased back, irritated why the boy couldn't just say it. When he was about to demand just that, an epiphany had him drop his jaw. "Wait, Miss Maiden said I couldn't die."

Murata nodded, urging more.

Wolfram glared at him, unsure if his epiphany was as grand as he had thought. "But everything we've gone through, there were times I thought I would."

"But you didn't," Murata reminded, offering his hand until it touched the blonde's arm, "Lord von Bielefeld, Miss Maiden's desires for one thing only."

"Me." Wolfram knew that much. His eyes lowered to the ground, not registering the touch by now. "She wants me and does all this? It makes me hate her more!"

Why was The Great Sage bringing about all this now? Wolfram had a sick wondering if the boy was waiting for a time when the others weren't around. But now, of all times?

Gwendel's deep exhale startled Wolfram and he flicked his eyes up to his brother. The man's eyes were observing the dance, brimming with a heartrending truth. Wolfram saw the expression and his heart swelled up into his throat.

"Brother?" Wolfram looked between the two, the dance feeling farther and farther away. His brother's behavior had bothered him from their reunion but he had chalked it up to a bad experience with what he and The Great Sage had to go through. Now, Wolfram wasn't so sure.

"Miss Maiden wants you, no matter what," Murata went on, the weight of his words heavier than ever. Wolfram stared at him, feeling dumb. It was like they were hoping he'd figure out a cryptic message through their words.

"This is nonsense." Gwendel's deep growl preceded him approaching Wolfram. "I'm not staying quiet anymore! I won't allow Wolfra-"

"Lord von Voltaire, don't!" Murata spun on his heels and extended his arms to keep the soldier at bay. "You know what will happen if you speak. You can't risk that!"

"Wolfram is not a tool! I won't stay silent anymore, knowing what waits for him!" Gwendel loomed over Murata and searched Wolfram's eyes. "Wolfram, the-"

Snap.

A chord broke somewhere above them. Tiny hands poured out of the ceiling, long arms making a straight shot for Gwendel. Wolfram saw them first, yelling in dread at the sight. He hurried forward, grabbing Murata's arm and yanking him to safety before he went to Gwendel's aid as they descended on him like hungry beasts.

Gwendel had seen them too late, sidestepped, and failed to dodge. They crashed on him, grabbing his clothes, his hair, and skin, digging their nails into him as they claimed him. Thrashing and yelling, Gwendel reached for his weapon. Porcelain bit harder into him, into his shoulder, until he couldn't move his arm anymore. His knees buckled and he collapsed on all fours, all his teeth gritting and mental cursing winning him nothing

"Brother!" Wolfram yanked out his sword and aimed, only to be propelled back by a swarm of hands that temporarily unlatched from Gwendel. He collided into Murata and he heard Yuri shouting something from the other side. Wolfram shook off his dizziness and got up again, charging at Gwendel.

The hands yanked Gwendel up, avoiding Wolfram's sword by inches. They hauled the struggling man up and up until the ceiling swallowed him whole.

Wolfram ogled up at the spot he had seen Gwendel vanish, emotions stripping off him like dead skin. His mind only repeated his brother's name like a mantra and his sword-wielding-hand felt incredibly heavy. The weapon slipped out of his grip.

"GWENDAL!" His brother's name, though screamed from the pit of his stomach, didn't do anything to deter the dance or the music. He could hear the frantic sounds from the other side of the room but Wolfram kept it at bay as he ran back to The Great Sage.

"Where is he?" He snatched the boy by the collar. Why he didn't shake his brains out, Wolfram wasn't sure, but he attributed it to a repressed reminder that this was The Great Sage he was grabbing so crudely.

Murata's look was sympathetic and he whined when Wolfram brought him closer. "Lord von-"

"TELL ME!"

"If I tell you, Shibuya will get hurt." Murat's voice was firm as much as his features.

Wolfram trembled, partly in a frenzy that he found the boy's words to be true. "Why did they take Gwendel?"

"Lord von Bielefeld," Murata brought up one hand and rested it on Wolfram's hand. The blonde unconsciously released him a bit. "Our last challenge revealed a lot to Lord von Voltaire. Part of it was to keep quiet. If we said anything…"

"Where is my brother?"

Murata shut his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know."

Wolfram's furious breathing came out as snorts. "Do you know about it too? About what this is all really about?"

Murata's eyes opened and exposed a guilty look.

"What's going to happen?"

"Lord von Bielefeld," Murata sharpened his tongue again, "Miss Maiden wants you. There is more at hand, that much you can guess. She will not let you die during this game of hers though, for however long she lets it go." By his face, Wolfram knew he wouldn't, or couldn't, say more.

Struggling was an understatement for what Wolfram did. He had to close his eyes to establish some level of control. The music barely drowned out the other side of the room but Wolfram hoped Conrad knew to calm Yuri for the time being. Music, shouting, rage, and something else bubbled in his head. His emotions returned to him like a typhoon, heating up Wolfram's temperature. If his fire could take on a life of its own, it would have burst out of him and engulfed the entire room.

Don't. Wolfram heard his own growling, felt his eyes ready to rupture.

Gradually, Wolfram opened his eyes and saw the drifting feet of the servants dancing. They were getting tired no doubt. It wasn't fair they had to keep waiting. Like a flame blown out, Wolfram felt his rage and sorrow coil deep in his chest.

We will make it through. We have to.

He glanced at Murata and he retrieved his sword again. "Miss Maiden doesn't want me dead," he repeated and waited, as if for assurance.

Murata pressed his lips together and he reluctantly nodded once. "You understand then."

Wolfram did. As he approached the dance, he saw Yuri's horrified expression flashing between the gaps of servants. Unable to stand the look, Wolfram adjusted his vision away from it and stared at the blur of limbs spinning back and forth. He could easily bump into a servant, let them attack him. They wouldn't kill him, right? Miss Maiden said she'd spare him and he could have gone first, let them attack him until she had them stop. How unfair would that be to the servants though, forced to beat their Demon King's fiancé to near death?

The flash of his sword brought Wolfram's attention down. What would happen if he tried to mortally wound himself? Would she stop him? He angled the blade up, studied it. In his reflection, he saw eyes that weren't all his. They were lighter, almost glazed. Were the effects on his mind manifesting in his body already? How long had it been there?

My Prince…

Wolfram shut his eyes tightly and gasped. No, he scolded himself. He knew his mind was warped and suppressed a lot of images and emotions that would explode should he not deal with them soon. But what choice did they have? They had to escape soon and that meant pressing on. So why did it feel that all the training Wolfram had had as a soldier amounted to nothing?

Pressing a hand to his forehead, Wolfram found his stubbornness again, almost astounded that he had lost it. He thought of Yuri, who had to be protected at all costs. He thought of Gwendel—he'd find his brother and punish anyone who dared to harm him.

Right. Wolfram lowered his hand, realizing how loud the music was now. He couldn't hear anything else, barely registered his heart beating. And when he did look up, he felt an icy grip on his wrist and saw a servant's face millimeters from his own.

"Ah…!"

Wolfram cried out at the sight, all his psychological dilemmas flinging out. He tried to jerk free but the grip was fierce in the woman's hold. Her smile, now cracked and bleeding from the corners, brought Wolfram memories of being a child frightened by wide-smiling strangers. But this time he didn't have his mother to rush to for protection.

He saw the dance had stop. The servants reached out toward him, their fingers all so cold as they rested on him and started pulling. "S-Stop! Get off me!"

Ignoring him, the servants kept tugging, forcing Wolfram into their herd and he had the sudden remembrance of the dolls. He frantically looked around but only met the worn, forced smiles of their loyal subjects. They maneuvered him so expertly Wolfram never felt a bump in his steps, nor could he pull free his weapon as a precaution. He waited, held his breath again, expecting their nails to claw into his skin, aim for his organs and all but rip him to shreds.

But they didn't. He saw Yuri's face in the clearing as they nudged him over. The double black didn't waste a moment; Wolfram felt familiar arms crushing him, pulling him away from the pack.

"Y-Yuri…"

Yuri held on tighter, gasping when he felt his own breath had been held. "What the heck went on over there. Wolfram! Are you-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Wolfram said, pushing away to take in Yuri's body. He was really there. Wolfram looked back fast, finding the flock already parting and bowing as they had done for Yuri—now for Murata, who caught on quick and didn't hesitate to cross the path. He shared a look with Wolfram that told the warrior he was just as surprised by the turn of events. Wolfram didn't want to think what he would have done had the affair gone differently. Whatever The Great Sage had concocted in his mind had to wait for now.

At least this time, the servants didn't speak.

When Murata had crossed, their backs straightened and their chins tilted down. The same hands that had taken Gwendel from up above now blossomed from the ground like weeds, wrapping around the legs of the servants. Gradually, they pulled them down into the muck that they came from.

No one spoke as they vanished, less so when they saw five of the dolls remaining.

"Congratulations," one doll with a broken ribbon in her hair said, "You have crossed and may now face us in the next room."

Wolfram panicked at the missing doll. "Where's Gwendell?"

"Mm, was that the one I bit?" another doll asked. They couldn't ignore the smear across her pink lips.

"No, no, he means the big one with hair we wanted to braid," a doll at the end said. She giggled and tugged on her own short hair. The rest joined in the giggling acknowledgment.

"Where is he?" Wolfram saw them crank their heads to give him disapproving looks.

The blood smeared doll pointed up. "Miss Maiden took him for breaking the rules. But I'm not sure Master will be pleased…"

"Yes, you passed through nicely because of the big brute." The dolls shared another round of laughing.

Wolfram felt the world tilt. "Gwendel…?"

"Master, wait. Who is your Master?" It was Conrad speaking now, his own voice sounded a little raw. At the least, his wounds had been wrapped with spare shreds of Lord Varick and his own clothing but he paid no mind to them.

The ribbon-wearing doll pointed up with two little hands. "Master is the Puppeteer. He'll fix us, make us better once we win against you. He won't fix you though, Varick!"

Lord Varick barely acknowledged the girls. "What do you mean about Lord von Voltaire?"

A deep rumble punctuated his statement. The group turned, finding the fingers lifting off the door, waking from a long slumber. Like spiders, they crept away to unveil the door. It opened of its own accord before anyone had the courage to approach it, silent as it did so.

Wolfram's heart sank.

He tried to think about the Master the dolls spoke of, forced himself to remember priorities. It didn't work well. Emotions always dominated Wolfram's face, whether he was fuming or in the shallow harbors of depressing thoughts. With frustration crinkling the lines around his eyes, Wolfram was the first to enter the through the door.

"Wait, Wolfram," Yuri hurried after him, along with the others.

Wolfram knew he had to find Gwendel. Maybe it was Miss Maiden's spell on the castle but a new thought told him he would be finding him sooner and in bad company. He didn't wait as Yuri asked; he pressed on.

He almost stopped when Yuri's hand brushed against his. A quick look and he found Yuri, despite all his weariness, giving him a flimsy smile for strength. It was enough for Wolfram. He could only bump lightly back into Yuri's hand and accept having him walk by his side.

Nothing else could be said. Words that couldn't be expressed got buried in their respective hearts. They all headed in, with one less member on their team.

-x-X-x-

Miss Maiden sat in the center of the room.

Wolfram's hiss had been the first clue something was amiss. They had followed the dolls like they were parents chaperoning a field trip until the blonde had stopped short. There she was, sitting on a lonely stool atop a checkered floor with a pale light spilling over her.

"Miss Maiden." Wolfram felt as if everyone in the room disappeared, save for him and her.

"My Prince..."

Her voice still felt like a nail scraping down Wolfram's spine. This time though, her words didn't weigh down over them as it usually did.

Lord Varick came forward and blocked Wolfram from stepping closer. "What are you doing here? Those dolls said-"

Miss Maiden's neck creaked when she looked at the man. "You can assume why I'm here…"

"Don't be stupid," Lord Varick said, face scrunching up, "He knows you're up to no good. Do you think he would trust you so easily after all that's happened?"

"You don't know what you speak of..."

"I do!" Lord Varick's hands grew stiff and he shut his eyes tightly before he looked back at the group. At a glance, the man looked to be resolving a dispute within himself.

"Lord Varick, what's going on?" The blonde fisted a hand in Lord Varick's arm. "Please. You have to tell us now."

"He can't, not easily anyway," Conrad said, "He says someone else is watching us on and off. I take it to be the Puppeteer himself."

"What?" Yuri gaped. "Does that mean Miss Maiden isn't the one doing all this?"

Lord Varick opened his eyes and words sprung off his lips. "The Puppeteer had me searching for Miss Maiden ever she went missing," he started suddenly. "For a long time, he was nothing more than dirt under the world's heels but he always said he'd reverse the world's working order, with him as its King-"

"What are you doing?"

"Listen to me!" Lord Varick's holler had the others step back in caution, "Your Eminence, surely you've heard of people gifted with rare abilities, using ancient magic to perform great tasks."

Murata held a frown but nodded.

"We all have," Conrad said, hand tightening on his hilt now.

"The Puppeteer uses magic then?" Yuri searched the smooth face of Lord Varick for answers, terrified Miss Maiden would disrupt it at any moment.

"You know, you must all know now that these dolls, including we two—we're not dolls," Lord Varick murmured, gesturing toward the group, "We're souls, lost without our bodies, some of us who should be very well dead and silent."

"What are you saying? Stop speaking…!"

Lord Varick spun to meet the challenging stare of Miss Maiden. "If you finish me off, you'll have no one to help you," he glanced back at the book, "She only became so strong now because our Master found her. That's why I showed up, to help our Master carry out his plans now that Miss Maiden was found. She could have called for him at any time but it wasn't until recently she did."

Wolfram stared at his doll again but she remained silent, her glass eyes empty as if she wasn't even in there. "What does that mean?" he demanded at Lord Varick, eyes narrowing. "She called all this here? Why now?"

Murata's eyes widened. "Lord Varick, you mustn't say more. Your Master is nearby and he may be hearing us now then!"

Conrad, Yuri, and Wolfram tensed at the same moment and their eyes darted back to the noble for further answers.

"Lord Varick, why are you saying all this now, knowing the consequences?" Conrad asked, drawing out his blade and steadying his pose. He made sure Yuri was behind him.

"I need Miss Maiden's help," he said to the doll now, moving to her, "My powers can't compare. He'll take Wolfram and use him, use all the poor souls as a tool to keep His Highness from taking him down. I can't let that happen. I thought I could go along with it but…"

"What?" Yuri jumped forward and grabbed Lord Varick's arm, turning him around. "Your Master wants Wolfram? But I thou-"

The ground lurched beneath them.

Wolfram instinctively righted himself, heart pounding when it did it again. It rumbled and jerked around, the walls shedding their skin. Wolfram's eyes shot toward Miss Maiden when he heard her shriek. A gold hand tore from the ceiling and snatched her and Lord Varick up in an angry palm. The giant to which the hand surely belonged to was unseen, lost in an eerie fog that oozed out of the ceiling.

"Wolfram!" Conrad tackled Yuri and Murata, using his body to shield them from the debris.

Wolfram obeyed the brunette's order. Pressed against Conrad to shield the double blacks, they rode out the quake. The building screeched and the walls cracked as the ceiling broke apart. Cautiously, Wolfram and Conrad peered up to scan the area when the trembling had begun to ebb. Wolfram was the first to break away from the group, eyes wide and fingers itching for his sword.

It was too late. The mist shrouded the injury to the ceiling and the hand that retreated into it, gone with their answers.

"They got taken just like that," Yuri said in a broken gasp. He staggered to Wolfram and followed his gaze, hoping a clue would rain on them. Around them, they heard the dolls whimpering, near bawling.

They didn't get the chance to speak to them. Whatever spells Miss Maiden had placed on the home shattered and turned ugly; the dolls shrieked and clung to each other, the remnants of their dresses catching black flames. Pieces of their bodies tore off like they were made of scrapped paper. Their screams died off as their splintered selves flickered, drifted toward the ceiling, and then, vanished.

"The girls," Yuri cried out, rushing toward them. The floor ripped out from beneath his feet and soon the entire room uprooted. It was like the gold hand had returned with its partner and now picked at the building like a picky child with its food.

"Shibuya, don't! The whole place is breaking apart." Murata stumbled and crashed into Conrad's waiting arms. "The curse is lifting."

"Yuri!" Wolfram struggled for a hold on a few tiles that broke loose and began to float up. He snatched Yuri's hand before the double black could protest and started hauling him up.

The entire plane tilted and they all slipped, plummeting into the mist that what once above them but now, seemed to be below.

"Not again." Yuri's moan turned into a bellow as they all fell again.

-x-X-x-

Wolfram didn't remember falling asleep or even going unconscious. Yet he found his eyes heavy and it hurt to try and open them. His arms tried to respond first, before he had gained full consciousness. Something bit into his skin when he tugged and the pain had him fully alert.

His head was down, providing him with a full view of frills and lace. At the edge of his vision, his arms were up on a chair's arms and bound by silver threads. "What?" his voice came in a croak, drier than it should have been.

The frills and lace were part of a ridiculous garment his sitting body had been victim to. It was something his mother might have made him worn as a child if only it didn't look like a craft project had exploded on it. Wolfram lifted his head, wincing at the strings digging into his neck.

"Wolfram? Wolfram, are you alright?" Conrad's voice came from nearby. "You're awake?"

The rest of his vision came gradually. Wolfram willed his head to move more. He recognized the throne room instantly, saw the red tongue that stretched up to the King's throne. He sat on the edge of the red carpet and with forced patience made out Conrad directly across from him.

"Conrart." Wolfram squinted. The man was strapped to a seat as well. Scratches and blood stuck to his skin. "Conrart…!"

"I'm alright. They're self inflicted." Conrad's face was stuck in a grimace due to how the strings clung to his head. Even so, his eyes were assuring Wolfram of his well being. His clothing had changed as well though. His was less detailed as Wolfram but still looked befitting for a child. High, frilled socks were the least of their concerns though.

Wolfram blinked hard and tried to look around. To Conrad's side, he found The Great Sage stirring—his outfit had been untouched. The boy was just like them, bound to an ornate seat.

"My head. I'm not one for all this being thrown around," Murata muttered, opening one eye at a time.

"Y-Yuri," Wolfram called out. It came out as a weak gasp. He felt the familiar sensation of strings at his throat. His mind raced and he started wiggling around when memories of the playhouse crept out of the corners of his mind.

"Wolfram, calm down." Conrad hissed again when his skin got clipped. "His Highness…"

The man made a gesture with his eyes and Wolfram followed it painfully. His jaw would have fallen off if not for the twine seizing his nerves.

Yuri sat, lax, on the throne. It was as if the strings allowed his unconscious form the benefit of the doubt. His head had rolled to one side and he bore the crest of the King on his shoulder, tresses and sash included.

Crumbled at the throne's side was Gwendel.

Wolfram opened his mouth, his scream too weak to frighten a bird.

The eldest brother was no exception to restraint. His arms hung limply beside his ears, held up by strings that coiled out of the ceiling. He rested on his knees, the rest of his body saved from collapsing by more threads. He bore his uniform yet even Wolfram could see the damage the man had taken.

Tears pressed against Wolfram's eyelids at the way his brother's head hung low, eyes shut. Sickness rolled over Wolfram when he saw thread stitched through his lips. "Brother."

The throne room was deathly still, a faint sigh of air drifting in and out periodically, broken only by the sound of a Gwendel's blood dripping to the carpet.

Wolfram only caught sight of Lord Varick when he forced his eyes away from Gwendel. On the opposite side of the throne, Lord Varick's body had been sprawled out, his hair a mangled mess stretching over the carpet and down the first step.

"This is bad." Murata stared at the throne as well. His voice didn't sound as repressed as Wolfram's. Maybe their captor found him more tolerable than the brothers.

"I can't get them to wake up," Conrad rasped, eyes narrowing at the sight. "I've only been awake a little longer than both of you."

Wolfram dragged his eyes back to Conrad, unaware of how raw they looked. "Conrart…"

Conrad's heart fell at the sight.

"Shh. Someone's coming." Murata stilled, his eyes facing toward the corner of the room, adjacent to the throne.

Shuffling, a wheeze, and more shuffling. A figure came through, cloaked. As it moved, the garment couldn't hide the crevices of old age along his exposed chin and nose.

"Ah, you're up. Good, good," the voice confirmed it; it was parched, the voice of a man who had told many tales and lived just as many.

Blood boiled under Wolfram's skin. He knew it before The Great Sage even asked his question.

"Are you the Puppeteer, Master of the dolls?" Murata asked.

Wolfram strained to turn his neck more. He saw the old, hidden man waddle with a curve in his back. He cradled something in his arms. Whatever it was, its feet poked out from beneath the blanket covering it. Wolfram couldn't believe such a frail creature could carry another person.

"I am," the elder said.

Wolfram exhaled shakily. "You-"

"You've taken over the castle," Conrad interjected. He didn't look at Wolfram but could feel the wrath oozing out of his brother.

The Puppeteer stood beside Gwendel, never turning his shadowed face to them. "Why, yes. Mind you, it was no easy feat. I waited a long time to pull such a thing off. Loyal Gwendel, please pull a seat up for me."

Wolfram cried out—tried to—at the horrid image of Gwendel's fingers twitching under the string's spell. One leg pushed up first, then the other, until the soldier stood tall. His head was still down as his body moved, lifting and setting down a large seat beside the throne.

"How dare you," Wolfram spat as best he could.

"Thank you," the Puppeteer said, coughed, and then lowered the figure into the seat. When he stepped away, Wolfram was frustrated that a cloth smothered the person's face from view.

Conrad made a sound and they soon found out it was one of weak dismay. Yuri had started stirring, his droopy eyes battling to pull reality into focus. His eyes, as dark as they usually were, were hazy and lost.

"Shibuya." Murata grit his teeth, riddled with concern. "Shibuya, snap out of it…"

"Your Highness!"

Yuri lifted his head but the glazed look didn't lift. "Con…."

"Don't strain yourself, Your Highness," the Puppeteer came closer and soothed his hair, "You're recovering. I had to put you a bit under so you wouldn't lose control of yourself. I still have much need of you."

"D-Don't…TOUCH HIM!" Wolfram gagged at his words, feeling the cords about to rip his skin. When they didn't, he gasped, and found himself able to take deep breaths again.

He looked up and the Puppeteer loomed over him.

So fast. Wolfram quickly replaced his stunned expression with something more intimidating.

"Wolfram von Bielefeld. Please, don't hurt yourself. It took me a long while to find an outfit appropriate for what's to come for you."

"Ch-Children?"

"You mean the dolls." Conrad clenched his fingers as much as he could. He kept close awareness of when they would lax even the slightest.

"The dolls, yes."

Wolfram cringed when a spider-legged hand crept along his face. "Wolfram. When I saw you, I knew you were perfect, a specimen so gorgeous with the spirit to match. I was sure no one could match the golden beauty of your mother. You are beyond her though."

"Don't you ever speak of my mother again!" Wolfram tried to bite the hand. Itearned his chin a cruel hold.

"You'll see." With the cryptic message, the Puppeteer released him and made to the throne again. "You won't find me so repulsive soon enough."

Conrad, whose stomach had churned more than enough times to last him years at how the man spoke to Wolfram, jerked his arms against the restraints. "What happened to Miss Maiden? What have you done to His Highness and Gwendel? And what of Lord Varick?"

"Bah, Varick!" The Puppeteer snagged Lord Varick's hair and yanked his head up, revealing a doll—void of life—staring back at them. "He was close to obtaining his dream! Look at him now. I've taken him out of this shell. A shell I had worked so long to make just for him."

"Lord Varick, the one who supplied all that financial gain, then was always—" Murata didn't have to finish to know the others knew by now.

The Puppeteer lowered the puppet's body again. "Was me, indeed. I gave him the chance to fulfill my doing and what a mess he made. He came and tried to kill poor Wolfram von Bielefeld under some misguided judgment. Bah! Then he plays along with Miss Maiden. It was good that I found them in time."

"In time?" Wolfram growled.

By now, the elder had moved to Gwendel and began undoing his hair tie. "This is no good. Your hair should be down. You look much more handsome with it down."

Wolfram bashed his head back into the seat, dragging his legs up and down against the ties. "Don't touch him I said!"

He went ignored. "As for your other inquiries, I'm not one to supply much information," the Puppeteer continued, "I can say that Lord Varick and Miss Maiden, I discovered, were plotting against me. I'll know what they intended soon enough and remedy it.

Now, as for this strapping soldier. I believe his vessel to be part of a great endeavor," the Puppeteer stopped to rest a palm over Gwendel's chest, "Yes. A fine specimen. I decided on it after learning more about him through Miss Maiden's play time with you. She didn't treat you all too well. Shame."

"What will you do then?" Conrad asked. He couldn't help tensing whenever the old bastard put his hands on Yuri's head or through Gwendel's hair.

"Lord Weller, my children have needs. They need retribution, a chance at new life. Their stories have touched me and for a long time, I have taken their souls into these crafted dolls. My father was a doll maker and his father before him, you know. I'm quite good at what I do.

These dolls are very broken, each of them, full of sorrow and rage. I see innocence in them though. Together we'll have our own home. The low will rise as nobles and the kings and queens who had forgotten them will fall to their knees, nothing more than a common whore."

The Puppeteer faced them with a grim curl upturning his thin lips. His hand extended forward and exuded a green glow. From the center of the carpet, a pedestal emerged, supporting a pillow and a frail, porcelain male doll with the deep, green eyes.

"Lord Weller, Great Sage, your bodies will follow in Gwendel's footsteps," he said, approaching the doll, "And, while we're on you, Great Sage, I wonder about something. Miss Maiden had spoken to you and Lord von Voltaire during your challenge, hadn't she? She revealed about me, about my intentions, and that I was soon to find you all through her eyes."

Murata smirked faintly. "She did and Lord von Voltaire didn't care for it."

Wolfram paled at how desperate Gwendel had looked before he had been snatched up. Gwendel…

"I've yet to find out what she said exactly and why she had revealed herself only to one of her beloved's brothers. Please indulge me. As you can see, he came into my property once I broke her spell." Two thin hands took the doll, stroked back its sandy hair, and adjusted its breeches.

"Beats me." Murata looked innocently to the side.

The Puppeteer stopped tending to the doll. "Is that so?"

Wolfram seethed. He knew the damn Wise Man knew why and by the look Conrad had, the brunette had the same opinion. All they could do was cling to the Puppeteer's words for now, make sense of the madness. That's what Wolfram reminded himself, but his eyes kept flicking back to his brother and Yuri. It was good he was sitting; he couldn't rely on the strength of his legs right now.

"Very so," Murata said, managing a smile.

"Your Eminence," the doll said.

Wolfram ogled the doll as its painted lips shifted and spoke so brokenly. "It's…alive…?"

The Puppeteer extended out his hand, his fingers around the flimsy neck. "I was hoping for information so I could spare Lord Varick's soul from extermination. Once the original doll where the soul is kept shatters, so does the soul. I assure you he won't go to a better place."

"Do you take me to be as kind as the Great Demon King?" Murata asked, eyes enigmatic.

"No. You're far cleverer than that. But you're one for information, which I'm not willing to share much of. Lord Varick, however, might be willing to if you spared his life. That is also assuming you can find a way to speak to him before I complete my plans."

Wolfram scowled, feeling that the drop—though only a few feet—seemed much more sinister by the manner in which the Puppeteer held Lord Varick's doll body.

"Lord von Voltaire wasn't quite as eager to answer me, though he had plenty of other things to say. I made sure to keep his lips sealed for a long while."

-x-

Gwendel stood still. His eyes, heavy lidded, stared at the stained carpet beneath his boots. He heard what was said, could hear Wolfram's screaming even though it came little above a ragged breath. It clashed against his eardrums regardless. Near his side, he could feel his King struggling with the same spell he was also under.

"Gwe…" The King's voice was below a whisper. The threads gently pulled at his fingers when he tried to move his hand off the armrest, like a mother tugging her child back at her side.

Gwendel heard a lot and felt little. His memory tried to tug out the challenge he had faced with The Great Sage, where Miss Maiden herself greeted them. She had said much nonsense, most of which Gwendel tucked away as the ramble of a mad, love-struck girl.

There was something she had said though, something he should remember.

He heard Wolfram cry out again.

Gwendel, for the briefest moment, felt that a wave had shot him back but he could see his feet hadn't moved a bit. His mind had flown back though, back into what he thought were his memories of youth. Wolfram was there. It must have been Wolfram by the adoring face and bright hair. Odd that he thought he had seen a child Wolfram partly a nuisance when now viewed the shattered memories in new lights. Wolfram was…

Wolfram. He'd be…in danger? The word felt foreign in his mind. Gwendel felt his face twitch, then his fingers. String nipped at him but he curled them anyway, slowly, agonizingly, until he could make a fist.

"Gwen…"

Gwendel hadn't realized how strong the hex was until his sense of feeling began to return. Hearing his King, Wolfram, the plucking of the strings around him, and remembering those wretched fingers that had drifted through his hair, Gwendel groaned internally. Pain tore up his legs and his back ached, lips burned, and eyes felt too heavy to be in their sockets.

He saw from the corner of his eye how much his King trembled in one arm.

Miss Maiden. Gwendel remembered her occasionally, her memory coming in bursts like thunder. He remembered the Puppeteer's onslaught on him when he had refused to give information. He remembered, before falling into his third drought of consciousness, that he had to conserve his energy and focus for the sake of his King and what was to come. And do…what? She had told him something, showered a spell on him to do…what? Something should her Master intervene.

When Yuri took in a sharp intake of air, Gwendel's eyes snapped opened.

He remembered.

-x-

"May I ask, first, if those imposters we've met were a product of yours or Miss Maiden's doing?" Murata asked, not daring to glance behind the Puppeteer. "I'd like to know if there are more running around the castle. You know what I am talking about, right?"

"Of course they were fake— illusions. To create such fine dolls like that, tangible dolls, require much more skill than she can ever hope to have," the Puppeteer stated, one finger uncurling from Lord Varick's neck, "And I assure you that your bodies will serve as great vessels for my children."

Conrad's eyes widened. "Is that what you plan for all of us then?" His eyes flicked to Wolfram.

Another finger came off Lord Varick's neck. "Wolfran von Bielefeld will have a higher glory than that. Now, Great Sage…"

"Yes. I'll speak to you about it. Privately."

"Your Eminence," Conrad turned his head halfway to glance at the boy.

The Puppeteer deposited the doll back onto the pillow and a cage grew from the pillow laces, locking Lord Varick in. "You're wise for a reason. Well done. Let's make some preparations then. It's soon time to celebrate!"

Wolfram was surprised that when the elder snapped his fingers, he hadn't lost a thumb in the process. The strings chimed to life and Conrad was hauled up to his feet, arms yanked behind his back with resistance. "Hey! Where are you taking him?"

Conrad's groan preceded a sudden rush of commotion. Figures scurried into the room, dolls of all colors entering and drifting to various locations. A cluster formed around Wolfram.

"Look at him! He's perfect!"

A doll tugged at his shirt. "He's prettier than anybody I've seen!"

"Like an angel!"

"He's our new Prince!" Another doll rested her face on his hand.

Wolfram's face contorted and he failed to repress his squeaks and outcries when the dolls scampered up his legs. They doted him with compliments and caresses. "Get off me! I'm not your Prince!"

One scampered up onto his shoulder, blocking his view of Yuri and Gwendel. "Hey! Get off I said! You! Puppeteer! I demand you come back this INSTANT!"

"Wolfram," a voice said and Wolfram looked ahead. Lord Varick had moved, though it was slow and pained. "I'm sorry it came to this. I hadn't expected...His power has grown greatly since I last saw him. I'm so sorry."

"Lord Varick, it's really you." Wolfram wasn't sure if he should curse at him or not. What aroused his temper was a disarray of finger-pointing and he couldn't calculate how much of it went on Lord Varick.

"Mah, what a mess all of this is, isn't it?" Murata made a little 'oop' sound as he, too, was forced to stand. His treatment was far less crude as Conrad's. Dolls rushed around his legs, some galloping around him in earnest.

"It's the Wise Man!"

"His hair and eyes are black too!"

Murata chuckled on their behalf. "It seems some of you are aware of me. Are any of you demon tribesmen by any chance?"

"Don't answer that," the Puppeteer said from ahead. He was busying removing the cloth around the figure that had been laid on the chair.

Conrad grunted, finding some leverage in the cords. He kept surveying what he could. Thus far, he saw no signs of anyone from the castle. What had happened to Greta and the others? His mother? Were they alive?

Forced to a halt with another tug, Conrad's thoughts vanished at the unveiling of the figure. His shoulders drooped and he had to blink a few times to confirm what he saw.

The doll was a meticulous replica of The Demon King. The hair was the same length, even his half-closed eyes had been sliced to replicate that of a reptile.

"What is this?" Conrad demanded.

The Puppeteer chuckled and straightened the doll so it sagged less. Then he ran his fingers through Yuri's hair. "I've had those watching for me recount his appearance. It took a long time but from your reaction, I take it I've done a fine job."

"Wh-" Conrad grunted when the strings yanked at his injured back.

"Hush, hush. I have things to do so that I may speak with The Great Sage." The Puppeteer smiled at Yuri's quivering. "It seems our King is coming to faster than I had hoped. I want him conscious for what's to come but for now," he snapped his fingers again, "Lord von Voltaire, please help me move the King."

Conrad tried to protest but whatever force moved his limbs pulled him down on all fours.

"In the meantime, Lord Weller, have a little taste of humility." The Puppeteer nodded to the brunette and drifted out of the room. "I'll be ready for the Wise Man in a moment."

At the silent command, dolls raced over to Conrad in a giggling fit. A boy tugged at his ears and arm until it had hoisted itself up onto his back. Two more joined, bouncing on it. Conrad hissed and his cheeks flared up when he felt his bum smacked.

"Go, horsie, go!" the boy cheered, nudging Conrad's head with a hard hand.

And he did, crawling on all fours, heading out of the throne room toward the open courtyard. He clenched his jaw with each forced step.

The moment he broke into the courtyard, Conrad felt his resistance drop. Sound exploded where once he had heard nothing but a breeze in the throne room. He could hear distant wails, cruel laughter as clear as the skies were soaked in bright colors. It was deep in the night but half of the sky had burned and streaked the clouds orange.

"Your Highness," Conrad breathed, forgetting the dolls that toyed with him. He couldn't believe it.

The Demon Kingdom was on fire.

Inside, Wolfram called for him again.

"Conrart! Conra-Ugh, get OFF!" Wolfram shook his head and growled when it was held still. A doll with red curls gave him a look before she went back to applying blush to his cheeks.

The Great Sage spared him a gaze. Wolfram didn't know what to make of it.

"Stay still!" A doll patted powder now onto his nose.

Wolfram gagged at the abundance of white dust smoking off his face. He coughed and glared at her.

He had to escape. Yuri needed him, his brothers needed him. In his desperation, Wolfram shut his eyes, tried to block out the giggles and antics of the dolls, and thought intensely. He yelped when cold fingers tangled in his hair.

Miss Maiden, where are you? Wolfram thought harder, biting his tongue to keep his voice in head started pounding at the mere effort.

..y…Pri…

Wolfram tensed.

Miss Maiden? Is that you? I don't know if you hear me but if you do, I hope you're happy. Look what you've done! Look what you did to us! To me! I'll never forgive you. If you wanted me so badly you should have gone about it another way!

…ince…

You wretched thing! You were supposed to be gone! I…

Wolfram exhaled hard, his head drooping down as far is it could. How could it come to this?

Pri…

How could she have betrayed him so badly after everything? Fleeting images of their union strained his mind. A doll had brought him relief. When he knew how much of a brat others thought him and how he wouldn't let his pride dampen by showing weakness, he would unload his ranting onto her.

And she would listen. Wolfram vividly recalled when she first spoke. Before, it had been tricks of his mind—or so he had told himself. But one day, she really spoke. It was the day he should have removed her from his life. Perhaps it had been too late by then.

Prince…My…

"I am not your Prince!" Wolfram didn't hear himself shout. "I am not their Prince! I am not a Prince anymore! To anyone!"

The trickle of her voice stopped in his mind. Wolfram shook beneath the strings, eyes swelling.

And then, his fingers clenched. It took him a moment to acknowledge they had the freedom to do so. Wolfram opened his eyes, grimaced at the doll cupping his cheek, and glanced down.

The lines had loosened. Wolfram stared at it like the joke would end and he'd be fastened down again.

And when it didn't, he broke his arm free and raised it high above his head, fueling his hand with all the turmoil that had built up in his heart.

"Hear me all particles that dwell in flame!"

Miss Maiden's spell was no longer repressing his magic and the dolls' painted eyes expressed their horror. They scrambled, some screaming, as Wolfram felt fire fracturing the air around his clawed fingers.

Fire swarmed over his head, stretching until a monstrous beast's jaws broke through and let out a snarl.

Wolfram cried out hard when the threads around his other arm and chest tightened, restricting his breathing. He heard the dolls yelling at him to stop.

"N-Never," he managed, closing one eye at the pain.

The feline monstrosity above him howled and tore off the plane of fire. It launched onto the carpet, the dolls already having hurried away to safer ground. Some lingered, using what magic they had been gifted with to stop the raging creature.

Wolfram focused his will into the beast, trying to keep it from mauling anyone; Yuri wouldn't want that. "R-Run," he ordered Murata and with another roar, the feline shredded the strands binding the double black.

"Lord vo-" Murata lost his words in a gasp as he shielded himself from the bright fire. He looked around, finding his limbs free and he took the instant to dodge before the dolls could snatch him up again. "Shibuya!"

Before he could reach the throne, a gust of wind shot at him, sending him reeling into the courtyard.

"Y-Your Eminence…!" Conrad tried to reach for him as the boy rolled to a stop.

The chaos had brewed to a dangerous boil on the carpet. Gwendel sensed it before it had happened and he could feel the Puppeteer returning soon. His will had already sobered him up and now all he had to overcome was the incantation over his limbs.

Then, the cords forcing him to reach for his King snapped. He was free.

One hand went for Yuri's strings and the other scrabbled at the sutures on his lips. "Your Highness! Yuri, snap out of it!" he shouted when his lips broke free. Neverminding the burn or the blood, he struggled harder, wrenching the twine that wouldn't release the King. Even worse, Gwendel was secretly mortified The Demon King doll beside them would somehow awaken at any moment.

"Brother!"

Gwendel glanced back at Wolfram who bore a few new scratches. As ridiculous as his face looked, the fire cat still roared behind him. By how deeply his younger brother's chest caved in, it would vanish any moment.

"Help me get these off him," he said over his shoulder.

Wolfram lurched to the side and steadied himself. He panted and nodded, stumbling forward after collecting his wits. "Do you feel it…?"

"Yes. Something's poisoned the castle. You won't be able to use your magic long."

"You're hurt," Wolfram observed but his fingers were pulling furiously at Yuri.

Gwendel didn't respond, knowing his eyes must have been in a daze still. Part of him felt trapped and he groaned hard, resisting whatever it was that the Puppeteer had done to him. There was also that other piece of work done on him, one Gwendel hesitated to release. His thought process broke, pain racking down his back and digging into his nerves.

"Brother!" Wolfram watched, terrified when Gwendel hunched over.

Nausea overcame him. Gwendel hacked and shut his eyes tightly. "W-We have to hurry!"

Yuri's eyes lifted up to them. "Wolf…ram?"

The voice put Wolfram's back to work though they burned and screamed at him to stop by now. "I'm here, Yuri, we'll get you out!"

"Wolfram, look!" Lord Varick's voice made both brothers snap around.

The Puppeteer stood at the west entrance of the throne room, his feet hidden by the throng of dolls shuffling around him. Those had had successfully vanquished Wolfram's fire beast now stalked closer, cornering the brothers in with anything but welcoming eyes. They muttered and spat less-than-charming descriptions about them amongst themselves.

"Do you really think I'd let you leave so easily? This castle is under my fingertips," the elder's voice was disappointed. A scrawny finger extended and waved back and forth. "I comment the willpower you have though."

Wolfram turned at the sound of more dolls and found The Great Sage and a bound Conrad. Dolls escorted them none too gently back into the room. At the sight of Conrad's borderline furious face, Wolfram knew the severity of their situation had ballooned.

"Eyes up there, Wolfram" the Puppeteer said.

The ceiling groaned and they all, save Yuri, glanced up at hands forming out of it.

"And you, Gwendel," the Puppeteer continued, bending his finger.

Gwendel grunted and collapsed to one knee, his spine curving as the finger did.

"Brother! Stop that! Now!" Wolfram shot his hand up again. "Fire that dw-"

The other thin hand tore out. Wires exploded from it and locked onto Wolfram's wrist. The blonde bellowed at the pain that radiated through his core. Another set of strings ripped out and took him by his other arm, snagging into his skin so that he had no choice but be dragged back to the Puppeteer.

"No!" Wolfram stared at the others, watching their faced contort as the dolls advanced on them. Conrad was the worst off, his threads still biting into him the more he struggled.

Gwendel brought his eyes up, watching terror take over Wolfram's face. "Wolfram," he croaked and his eyes dropped again to the ground in fatigue.

The ground.

With his hand now his to control, Gwendel went to work. The man quickly spread his fingers over the dirtied carpet. Pressing into the lush floor beneath hard, Gwendel moved his lips, speaking in the lowest of murmurs. "Obey me, those that lay in earth…"

The earth shivered in understanding. A ripple effect took place, waves of quakes tearing through the castle's foundation without preamble. Before anyone comprehended what he had started, Gwendel poured his concentration into a yell and spikes ripped from the ground, separating the Puppeteer from their King.

"Lord von Voltaire!" Murata jumped at the opportunity to wiggle free from the dolls, rushing to Conrad's side to help break him free.

Conrad let out a much needed gasp at freedom. Swordless, he still bounded without another word to Yuri, finding his godson's eyes still lost. "Yuri! Yuri!"

Gwendel's eyes widened at the agony. It took chunks out of his will. He grinded his teeth and kept at it, focusing the earth's raw power into action. Spears of earth attacked the throne until they had set the King free.

"Wolfram!" Gwendel called out, searching for his brother's voice among the chaos. He snarled and smacked a doll away, only to find more coming for them.

"We have to keep them away," Murata said. He watched Gwendel's expression, knowing the difficult decision the man had to make. Wolfram wasn't in their group but with the Puppeteer, in a fight for his own life, alone.

Gwendel's arms shook. What he had to do next made his brotherly instincts kick him in the gut.

He directed his conflicted emotions into a glare, directed at the dolls while his hands pushed against the ground again. Earth tore the floor apart and curved over them, forming a dome as temporary protection and consequently leaving Wolfram to fend for himself. He collapsed onto his hands and tried to riel in his stomach and justify that he had done the right thing for the Demon Kingdom. It didn't do his stomach any better. A part of him scolded him for not having done what he had originally planned to do but it didn't matter now.

Murata frowned at him, sympathizing for a moment before his attention went back to Yuri. "We have to get Shibuya out." He whirled around when something struck at their mini-fortress. He could hear Wolfram's shouts and protests from beyond as well, growing distant. "Lord Weller."

Conrad was already hoisting Yuri to his feet when he saw the look on Murata's face. "Your Eminence?"

"We need Shibuya to come to his senses," Murata smiled up at him, "I'm afraid I won't be much use right after this."

Without waiting for a reply, Murata extended his hand to Yuri and did his own share of concentration. Blue light radiated from his body, lighting up the dark cave Gwendel had encased them in. His powers poured into Yuri and The Great Sage's eyes turned weak as he felt his energy deplete fast.

-x-

Yuri felt a pulse in his eardrums. Whether it was his own, he couldn't confirm but he had a sudden awareness now that had been lost for a long time. He had seen his comrades, heard their struggle, and all the while he felt like an observer to a dream. No, a nightmare.

Then, power had pumped into him. He felt it, his energy and will, all his own, had him opening his eyes despite how exhausted his body still felt.

"Conrad," he said, looking into the worried face of his godfather.

"Your Highness," the man sounded relieved and his grip on Yuri tightened.

Yuri glanced around, found Murata on the ground, out of breath, and Gwendel's efforts going into a standing position. There was a putrid stench of blood coming from both brothers.

That's when it clicked.

Yuri's eyes went wide, blank even, for a moment while memories of what had transpired sunk in. Their capture, Lord Varick, the Puppeteer, Conrad and the dolls, Gwendel's cracked lips, a fierce lion, and Wolfram's scream. The man responsible for so much stood on the other side of the dirt spikes, he knew that now.

"Yuri?" Conrad was nudging him, tugging at his side. "Gwendel, we're going to have to move soon. Are you able to use your magic again?"

"Wolfram, everyone," Yuri muttered to himself, staring at nothing. Life came back into his gaze when he heard an echoing cry from Wolfram.

Wolfram…!

The blonde's name rang in his head and Yuri crumbled back into his mind.

When his eyes opened again, The Demon King was awake.

-x-X-x-...TBC...-x-X-x-

Congratulations! You got through the longest chapter!

Thank you so, so much from the deepest bits of my heart to those who still support the story. I hope to hear from you but if not, I understand, considering how exhausting this chapter must have been. Still, thanks anyway for reading :)

Chapter 10 is already about 1/3 done so I'll probably post that soon. The Dragon's Triangle (my other Yuuram WIP) will be updated this weekend as well.

See you soon!