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It Ends Like This…

Author's note: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou, any of the characters, or the like. This story is just for fun and no profit. Don't take any of it seriously.

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We say "goodbye" one hundred times every day.

The trouble is, we just don't know it.

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Chapter 1

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"This isn't the first time we've done this…is it?" the blond asked, keeping Yuuri's right hand sandwiched firmly between both of his own. "Why does this keep happening? Maybe, it's me…?" He took a seat beside the royal bed which was covered in fine silks and ornate, gold embroidery edged sheets. "Or, at least, it feels that way…"

Wolfram sighed quietly, watching Yuuri's sleeping face. Exactly when the habit started—when he began conversing like this—he couldn't recall. But, pretending to talk to Yuuri when he was out cold always seemed to help for some bizarre, inexplicable reason. In spite of the fact that Yuuri always woke from these things blissfully unaware of the person who practically never left his side, Wolfram hoped that somewhere, deep within, the double black could hear his voice and rest assured that he was safe.

Safe… The blond scowled at the word.

This unconscious state wasn't like all the others. It wasn't as though Yuuri had transformed into The Maou and handed out justice to the populace only to faint due to expending too much energy. No, it wasn't that way at all.

Damn it! Wolfram really hated himself at this moment. He should have thought ahead, demanded more guards around the castle perimeter. After all, it was the Autumn Harvest Ball and the grand party would be starting in a few hours. Gwendal was overseeing the construction of the bonfire and Günter was there, too, to make sure no elderberry trees would be burned (because it would be bad luck).

Wolfram's fingers tightened around Yuuri's, fighting back his sense of failure.

But, it wasn't just them. Of course, they'd have strangers going to and fro throughout the castle: caterers, servants and ladies in waiting for the nobles, and…

That pageboy…

Wolfram squeezed Yuuri's hand hard. Most assuredly, Big Cimaron knew about Yuuri's kindness towards children. In fact, everyone did. And, the half human boy about Greta's age, dressed richly in blues and golds, who came up to them with a huge bouquet of mixed flowers knew how to bow respectfully. It was so well rehearsed, it should have been suspicious. Wolfram could see himself in a flashback, more bored than anything with the sudden delay of their departure to meet up with Conrad, which would be another dull meeting in his opinion, thanks entirely to the flowery gift from some lesser noble that he'd never heard of supposedly from "Caloria."

"Let's go, Yuuri," he could hear himself say as he buffed his nails against his chest.

"Don't be rude, Wolfram," Conrad admonished gently, suddenly standing behind the royal couple.

"Conrad! Hey, that saves us a trip into the castle." Yuuri just beamed at him and Wolfram could remember his lips turning downward. This day was getting worse and worse. The fancy dress ball would start soon and, thankfully, there would be wine—a lot of it.

Then, Yuuri leaned in Wolfram's direction, making the blond blush slightly. "But, you know, I have to agree."

"A-Agree?" the young Mazoku parroted. Rounded emeralds blinked, uncertain. The two of them were so close now. It probably wasn't proper in polite society, but he couldn't think clearly.

"Be nice, Wolfram," the double black said, smiling at the child now.

Eh??? The ex-prince couldn't believe what heard. He'd just been rebuked in front of some strange child and Conrad by his own fiancé, The Demon King! He gritted his teeth together and forced his breaths. Wine…lots of wine tonight…!

Yuuri accepted the gift, of course, with his usual goofy grin and a hand behind his head. A boyish laugh followed.

Typical…it's just so typical of him… Wolfram grimaced as he lowered his head in defeat. But, he couldn't ignore—or maybe, it was "accept"—what happened next.

From behind, Conrad suddenly dove forward, separating the royal couple, snatching the flowers with one hand and the dagger hidden behind them with the other. Alarmed, Wolfram remembered grabbing Yuuri's arm and throwing the wimp to the ground to get him out of the way so he could draw his sword smoothly. Two expert swordsmen against a child seemed like sandblasting a soup cracker, but Yuuri needed protecting.

Protect.

Defend.

Shield.

"I've got him!" Conrad barked, the boy now pinned to the ground with his arm twisted behind his back and flowers being scattered by the wind. The dagger was silver, curved, and extra sharp.

It seemed as though the scuffle had attracted help. But, from the side, three men dressed in commoners' dark brown clothes suddenly dropped the leads to the horses they were taking to the stables only to run forward at them—all brandishing short swords that were once hidden in their thick, oilskin coats. There were screams and shouting. People were running in all directions. Distractions. They were drawing Wolfram's attention to random points until his eyes picked the man on the right, sword in hand. Conrad, letting the boy escape, took the center one, but the man on the left had Yuuri around the throat and, it seemed, shoved a fist into his neck. It was only later, once Gissela had been called in and a small crowd of his friends had been gathered, that they understood what had really happened.

Wolfram let go of Yuuri's hand to trace his fingers along the smooth silver collar that was now securely locked around Yuuri's neck.

They put this on you, didn't they? And, now, we don't know how to get it off…

The blankets shifted. He turned his head to the side out of habit. Ebony eyes opened slowly—staring into nothing at first and, then, something. He noted a sunny spot of gold that turned out to be Wolfram's hair.

"Yuuri?"

Awkwardly, the double black put a hand to his aching throat. He felt as though someone had punched him there hard. Memories were sketchy—images of fighting, shouting—a hodgepodge of feelings, but, mostly, Yuuri could recall the frightening moment the world had gone dark.

"Wol…f?" His voice was almost raw.

Yuuri squeezed the hand holding his. It was reassuring. Wolfram's other hand was sweeping away his black bangs to get a better look into his eyes.

"It's me," Wolfram tried to soothe with some nervousness behind it, "I'm here." Green eyes seemed worried and Yuuri could see it, sense it. "Are you feeling okay, Yuuri?" He was about to let go of the hand. "I really should call Gissela."

The double black shook his head and, instead, tightened his grip. For now, it was his lifeline. He needed Wolfram to hold onto because something was wrong. It was terribly, terribly wrong.

Black met green. He peered up into his face. "I feel…bad, Wolfram. Call for a guard to get Gissela, but stay…please?"

Yuuri closed his eyes as he felt more of his energy being drained away. Wolfram was fire, he was strong, and he was loyal. He was power. And, in this moment, he felt that losing his grip on Wolfram would mean that he would lose his strength in this world.

"Sure, Yuuri…I won't leave you."

The blond turned his face to the door and shouted, "GUARD! GUARD!"

The door burst open with two uniformed men trudging through. "Yes, Lord von Bielefeld!" and "Sir, how can we be of help?" came to Wolfram's ears.

"We need Gissela! Make sure we get her here as soon as possible!"

Both sets of light brown eyes turned to their maou. Twin nods followed. And the pair took off at a brisk walk.

"We're getting you help," Wolfram said, watching with growing alarm as Yuuri tugged at the silver collar in an effort to get it off.

"It feels like it's sucking me dry. Help me get it off, Wolf. Please…?" Yuuri said softly, struggling to push himself up into a sitting position. It took three tries, even with the blond's help, to do it. Then, fumbling against the smooth surface, he finally gripped it and tugged down.

Nothing.

"Wolf?" He turned to the fire Mazoku, eyes pleading. "Help me…please?"

The blond opened his mouth to speak but the door opened and Gissela, Conrad, Günter, and Gwendal entered—all with concerned expressions. Greta tried to come in, too. But, from the hallway, the royal couple could see Anissina escorting the child off in another direction.

Yuuri lowered his head and pulled again, his grasp was better but the results were the same.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. We tried to remove the collar last night," the green haired healer began. "But, when we did, the metal actually shrunk and we were afraid that it would tighten so much that it would constrict air flow and you'd perish."

Disbelieving, Yuuri's hold on the collar tightened. Easily, he could put his fingers under it and between his neck and the metal. If it had actually shrunk, then that meant that it was much looser from the start.

"We're having Anissina research the metal and the device around your neck." Gwendal approached Yuuri as he put his pinkie finger through a loop that was attached to it. The general nodded at the loop. "We believe that it's based on some kind of animal collar—draining you so that you would be more docile and more likely to come with them peacefully when they kidnapped you."

Wolfram's emerald eyes narrowed at the thought. "Well, I'm not docile and there's no way I'd let someone simply leave with my fiancé in the middle of a fight."

Yuuri, turning pinkish, waved Wolfram off. "Now…now….there's no need to get all worked up about this." He tried to smile his most winning smile, the one that always made Wolfram back down. "Anissina will figure something out and we'll get this thing off. Okay, Wolf?"

The blond simply shook his head. "This is so stupid!" He leaned forward into the collar and took the ringed attachment between his forefinger and thumb, twisting like a key with flames burning between the digits.

Yuuri's eyes rounded, seeing fire so close to his face. Wolfram, however, was undaunted. "If I can burn this part of the collar off, then the rest should be easy!"

"No, don't!" Gissela ordered as Wolfram tore the bit off but he collar began to shrink again. "Stop it!"

Yuuri tugged at the collar that seemed to shrink millimeters right from under his fingers. Wolfram stared in horror, keeping the twisted-off piece of metal in the palm of his hand. "Yuuri! No! I'm sorry!"

The double black looked frightened and helpless. Wolfram, too, tried to place his fingers underneath to, somehow, stretch it back. But, it was stronger than he'd feared. "Yuuri, Yuuri…Please forgive…"

On the other side of Yuuri, Gissela was doing her best to gage the shrinkage and, thankfully, after a minute of "nothing," she announced that it had stopped. Then, she turned to her long-time friend and yelled like a drill sergeant, "Don't ever do that again! Do you remember how we all panicked last night when we tried to file the damn thing off and it started constricting well before we got half way? The cut metal repaired itself and kept shrinking! I had guessed that melting would do the same thing. If not, I would have asked you to do it last night." She looked into the fire Mazoku's hand and saw the bent metal piece. "And, give me that! Thank you very much!" She snatched the fragment away. "We'll give it to Anissina and see what she can analyze from it."

Then, the healer smoothed out her trousers by brushing out the non-existent wrinkles—a little embarrassed from her outburst at someone who so clearly outranked her. "I'll…um…send myself or one of the other healers to come in to check on His Majesty once an hour. But, until Anissina can figure something out, no one is allowed to try to get the collar off. Her determined eyes went to Yuuri. "And that means 'nobody,' right?"

The young king nodded.

"Good."

And, with that, she left the room. The door shut firmly behind her.

Conrad, Gwendal, and Günter seemed fairly uncomfortable—sweating even—with a visibly shaken Yuuri and Wolfram watching the door and praying that she would cool off by the time she got back in an hour.

Gwendal flipped back his ponytail and said in a slightly impressed tone, "She can really be something when she's mad. Right, Günter?"

The woman's father swallowed thickly. "She's always been like that. Maybe, I should have been stricter with her all those years ago." He dabbed at his brow with a fluffy, white lace handkerchief.

Gwendal raised an eyebrow. "Actually, that was a complement." He smiled thinly at the closed door. He liked feisty women.

Yuuri could hear pipes playing and a drummer drumming up and down the halls of Blood Pledge Castle. The song was cheeky and a bit too cheerful—or, maybe, the pipers were just a little sharp.

"It sounds like they're having fun," Yuuri commented as he pushed his half-eaten bowl of chicken stew away on the tray. Usually, he loved it but his appetite just wasn't with him today. Thus, his determination to ignore the two yeast rolls sitting there staring at him.

"Yes, Mother decided to bring back an Autumn Harvest tradition that she enjoyed as a child. Though, back in her day, she would chase after the players and throw leaves at them. If a leaf catches into your hair, it's a good omen."

The double black smiled to himself, imagining a chibi version of Lady Cheri chasing after a drummer and pipers with pudgy fists full of brownish-gold leaves.

"So, what are you going to do today?" Yuuri asked pleasantly. "Train the troops?"

The fire wielder threw him an odd look. "We're still in the holiday season. My elite guard and some of Gwendal's have time off for the Autumn Harvest Military Social this afternoon. It's mostly an elaborate lunch which Big Brother Gwendal likes to call 'meat, meat, and more meat followed by meat.'" Wolfram smiled thinly at it—the first true smile he'd given in quite some time. Yuuri felt a bit better at it. He knew how miserable Wolfram had been since he'd tried to help by melting off part of the collar three days ago. The blond tried to hide it under a façade of bratty behavior. But the double black would not be fooled. For the past two evenings, Wolfram took an extra long time cleaning his teeth. (The brushing sound seemed to last forever!) He sat up for hours reading a history book in the corner of the room by the large window. And, both times—when asked—he insisted upon bathing alone. But, that didn't excuse him from escorting Yuuri to the royal baths earlier in the day.

"I said that you really should eat more," Wolfram repeated, eyeing the bowl and then the double black.

Yuuri shook his head. "For some reason, I just seem to run out of steam and it's too much effort to make my jaw move." He shrugged a little. "Besides, I'm not that hungry anyway."

Before he knew it, Wolfram was perched on the edge of the bed with the back of his hand pressed against Yuuri's forehead. "I wonder if you're getting sick on top of everything else…?" he murmured to himself.

Yuuri felt a blush at the contact and brushed Wolfram's hand away, much to the annoyance and irritation of the blond.

"I'm your fiancé, Yuuri. It's okay for me to touch you."

The double black narrowed his eyes. "Ask me before you do stuff like that, huh? People might think that…" He didn't finish the sentence. It was just too embarrassing.

Green eyes bore into him. "Think…what? That you might actually care for me?"

Yuuri frowned heavily and allowed his body to sink into the four pillows that were propping him up. "Please, Wolfram. I don't want to get into it right now. I just don't…" The last word came out roughly and his spirits darkened.

"Feel like it?" the blond finished for him. "Well, pardon me for showing concern for someone other than myself." His eyes shined angrily. "If word got out, it would ruin my reputation as a selfish loafer!"

"No, that's not it," Yuuri groaned, feeling drained already.

"Or maybe," the blond demon said, "you're blaming me for something else?"

"Wha-?" Yuuri was anger and confusion mixed together. "And what would that be?"

He shook his blond head, got off of the bed, and grabbed the tray so quickly that everything on it rattled. "Doesn't matter," he growled. "I'll take this back to the kitchen." And, then, at the door added, "And get myself a bottle of wine to forget…"

Yuuri pushed himself up on the bed, watching the door close. "Wine? Did he just say 'wine'?" He scratched his raven locks uncomfortably. "I know I made him mad…I know I did…but…"

That evening, feeling more worn out than before, Yuuri had to struggle to get out of bed. His armpits smelled like a boy's locker room and, in general, he felt oily all over. He needed a bath, badly, and decided to push himself to the point where he could make it to the royal baths on his own to clean himself off.

"First thing's first…grab my stuff…" Then, unexpectedly, he sat back down. Just getting everything ready to go would take effort. He sighed heavily to himself.

The short walk, which was usually not so bad, seemed to take forever. Yuuri tried to force himself to walk with a casual gait—and he managed it, too—but it seemed like he was cheating somehow. He could tell that two maids passing in the opposite direction believed he was checking them out. The young Mazoku women with lemon yellow hair giggled shamelessly and he smiled back sheepishly. If they only knew… A little later, a trio of guards got the impression that he needed something and had a quiet debate amongst themselves as to whether or not The Demon King should be approached. Their hissing whispers hit a fevered pitch—making Yuuri want to crawl out of his skin. Thankfully, in the end, it was easier for the guards to just let him pass by.

And Yuuri was grateful.

Door closing behind him, Yuuri had his wooden bucket with his bath things inside perched in the palm on his left hand. He had a white robe on that was just like one that Wolfram owned—matching Christmas gifts from his mother, Jennifer. The only difference was the embroidery on the pockets—one saying "Yuuri" and one saying "Wolfram."

A splash.

"Wha-?"

"Who's there?" demanded a familiar voice from the rolling clouds of steam, followed by more splashing. Something was wading in water in his direction.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri called, "You're here?"

A pause while water sloshed in the Olympic pool-sized tub.

"Oh, it's you…" Disappointment dripped in his tone as the blond's features slowly materialized through the grayness. "Of course I am," he answered. An echo repeated after him.

Yuuri nodded at that and put his things down in the usual place. He hung up his robe. "I guess… you're still kinda mad at me, huh?" He moved lethargically to the small, wooden stool to scrub his body down. It felt like ages since he was able to take a seat. It felt so good to get off his feet.

In the tub, Wolfram approached with steam rolling in the background behind him.

Turning, Yuuri caught the pained expression in green eyes as Wolfram lied, "It's no big deal. Forget about it." The blond turned his back to him and waded out to the middle of the tub, steam curling around him—making Wolfram appear to be more of a mythical god than an earthly soldier. The blond hair had beads of water clinging. The perfect, lithe body with angled muscles that were well toned from years of swordplay stood out in a "come hither" way. And, even when angry, the most dangerous look he could muster had a sensuous shadow to it.

But Wolfram had just lied. They knew it. And somewhere, somehow, that hurt a little bit for both of them.

Yuuri hummed a non-committal answer, but couldn't stop wondering about himself and Wolfram. Why someone this beautiful—more beautiful than any girl—would be a willing fiancé to someone as ordinary as he was… The how's and why's simply escaped him. And while Yuuri was sometimes oblivious about matters in general, he was never so towards Wolfram's pain. He knew that he hurt Wolfram constantly—sometimes, on a daily basis—but couldn't help doing so. The double black saw himself as honest and total honesty was the best policy no matter what. It was his Japanese nature that told him to disregard, ignore, and openly tolerate that which he disapproved of or that which made him uncomfortable. Adding "sorry" to the mix, though, should take some of the sting out of it.

The double black took a peek at Wolfram again. The handsome ex-prince was sitting with his back to him, arms stretched out along the length of the tub.

Yuuri sighed. His own arms, in contrast, felt like heavy weights attached at his shoulders.

Then, a glow against his chest.

"Wha-?" He almost fell backwards, startled.

The silver collar brightened with a blue-grey light. Almost immediately, strength drained from him and Yuuri wondered, briefly, if he could even sit upright on the wooden stool anymore. If the kidnappers had taken me, surely, I wouldn't have had the strength to run away, he thought, lifting the collar away from his neck with his fingers.

"It's draining you again," Wolfram observed, coming out from the water

unceremoniously, not bothering to find a towel to wrap around his waist. "This happened before…when you were unconscious. Sit up and I'll help you."

"I…uh…" Yuuri tried to counter, but it would have taken too much effort to protect his modesty and pride. Just putting thoughts together required too much work. The double black's body sagged forward.

Quickly enough, he heard another wooden stool pull up behind him. Wrapping an arm around, Wolfram took Yuuri by the waist to steady him and gently poured water over the double black. The hair was next.

"Give it a moment and the glow will fade."

Yuuri could feel his body wanting to sag again. He struggled against himself.

"Hold still." Once Wolfram had the double black positioned again, Wolfram poured a small amount of Yuuri's shampoo, which smelled faintly of cocoanut, into his palm and lathered up.

"Wolf…I…uh…!"

He was shushed as the fingers made their way into his hair. The double black noticed that Wolfram was surprisingly gentle with him—scrubbing behind the ears, forehead, and down to the nape of the neck with little spiraled movements—hard enough to clean but more of a massage than anything.

Yuuri closed his dark eyes and allowed his head to fall forward with a contented hum. The fingers continued to work their magic and all of the troubles in the world faded.

Spirals.

Circles.

Creamy strokes.

Feather light brushes against his hairline.

"We need to tilt your head back."

The glow faded away and Wolfram poured water over Yuuri's lathered head to wash away the shampoo but was careful to keep it out of his eyes.

A towel appeared before him with Wolfram's abrupt words, "Blot your face."

The blond poured more warm water on Yuuri's back—drizzling it down.

"It was like walking in three feet of snow…just getting here," Yuuri complained.

"I bet," Wolfram agreed. "When I took hold of that piece of metal on your collar, I could feel the tug of something… trying to pull my fire magic out of me. It stopped when the piece melted and broke off. Then, still holding the fragment…I felt it again, but not so strong." He shrugged awkwardly as he took out a fresh bar of soap and rubbed it smoothly against the double black's back. "I'm…sorry…the collar…you know… I didn't mean to hurt you," he said regretfully. "I didn't think it would constrict."

"Oh? Was that the problem?" Yuuri asked, feeling relieved that his difficulty with Wolfram was only that. "I know you didn't mean to do anything bad." He looked over his shoulder. "You only wanted to help me. I know that."

Wolfram cocked his head to the side. "Well, I'm your fiancé after all…"

The double black groaned. "More of that 'fiancé' stuff?" Why now, of all times? Just when they were getting along, too! "Come on, Wolf," he returned with a tone of complaint. He just didn't feel like arguing the point. How many times in the past had they done that about this accidental engagement they were trapped in?

There was the sound of wood scraping sharply against the stone floor. The blond stood, resentful. "I see you want me to leave you alone again." The Mazoku took a folded towel that he'd kept in the wooden bucket with his bath things. He unfolded it with a single, angry flick and draped it over his own golden locks. "I'll see you tomorrow…maybe." He went for his robe on the hook and put his arms into it roughly.

"Aw…come on, Wolf," Yuuri called in a half-whine. "Don't be like that."

Wolfram ducked down to pick up a half empty glass of wine—the drink he'd promised himself earlier. He tipped the glass back and polished most of it off in one impossibly long gulp. He wiped his mouth against his wrist.

There was something heated, promised. A drop of the ruby fluid gave a shine to his lips but the eyes were shining, too—with resentment.

The door to the bath opened. "Tomorrow." Wolfram stepped through and stopped mid way ordering, "And don't get into the tub. I'm afraid you won't be able to get yourself out of it again…and drown! Hear me, Wimp?" He put the empty glass to his lips, tilted the thing back, and tasted the last few drops of ruby fluid. He wished there was more.

The door slammed.

"Not a wimp…" Yuuri countered out of habit, but he wasn't so convinced this time. Well, there was that, and the fact he was feeling cold and slightly soapy.

The double black made it back to his room feeling better than when he'd left. The fatigue was still there but tolerable for the moment. But, then again, the collar hadn't done much, either. He sincerely hoped that the 'blue-grey light show' wouldn't return, or, if it did, it would come back in his sleep when he wasn't likely to notice and stress out about it.

Trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, Yuuri opened the door with no idea who would be on the other side. It swung open and he peered from the doorway. True to his word, Wolfram wasn't there. The double black entered, looking around. He pushed open the closet and noticed that Wolfram's pink nightie, military uniform, and boots were all missing.

"W-o-l-f-r-a-m," Yuuri groaned as he put his bath things away. He'd made the blond mad again. How many times was that? He'd lost count. And, now, he knew that it would be awkward when they met up next—probably at breakfast with Greta and the others. Yuuri didn't want it that way. But, truth be told, he wasn't sure what he wanted these days.

Too much had happened and it was almost impossible to think. He put a hand to his head.

There was a knock. "Hm?" Yuuri turned with a slight smile coming to him. Maybe, he was over his "mad." "Wolfram, would you quit being like that? Just come in."

Instead, a woman's face with green hair poked in. "Ah, I see you've bathed already. Great! I'll strike that off the list of things I want you to do." She examined her clipboard and narrowed her eyes at a line of text before checking it off in red ink. She was back in a good humor again and had forgotten everything that had happened. People avoiding her in the hallway, now, seemed to be a complete mystery.

"Oh…Gissela…" Yuuri tried to smile in a friendly way but it was fading fast. Gissela wasn't Wolfram. Definitely not…Wolfram… The blond. Yes, the temperamental blond. His mind drifted a bit at that notion of "Wolfram" and "not Wolfram." Wolfram was a guy. No doubt about it—one hundred percent male. They'd bathed together too many times for him to not notice. Today, for instance.

Now, if I had someone to date…someone like Wolf crossed with Gissela… the double black pondered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He noted the bouncy breasts under the white medical coat. Girls. Yes, he liked girls very much. All guys did, right? They were supposed to. Even, he guessed, Wolfram, despite the fact that he'd never asked. And Gissela would definitely want him right back. Who wouldn't want that blond's god-like body? They would meet up in the infirmary after everyone in the castle had gone to bed. And Wolfram would show up at the door for a reason…some reason. Yes, he'd be there for a headache for something. And, then, Gissela would trip. In all soap operas and mangas they trip, right? And, Wolfram, being Wolfram, would catch her. He's a gentleman underneath it all. After that, they'd be close—very close. Her plump breasts pressed against his sculpted chest. Wolfram's breath ghosting her lips. Lips almost touching. Wolfram would say something huskily like, "I'm engaged. We shouldn't be doing this." And she would say, "Yes, we can't be…like this…together." Drowning in his green eyes. Longing. A deep kiss would follow…slow, wet, warm…tongue. Her hands would slide across Wolfram's well-sculpted shoulders, tracing patterns down his back, and, in time, possessive arms would twine around his waist—pulling their heated bodies intimately together. Fitting together perfectly. They'd be on one of the infirmary beds, somehow, and Gissela, on her back, would look up to see Wolfram hovering above her. The antique neckchain would fall, beads scattering everywhere. Removing his white shirt slowly, agonizingly…button by button…revealing perfect, creamy flesh. The shirt would fall to the floor in a heap. And Wolfram would remain, straddling her—clothes gone now—with his lithe body breathing harshly with desire. Taking in the delicious sight below him. He'd rip away her clothes, grab her hand, lace the fingers, and lean down—pressing her into the sheets—and then… Between the sheets they… Yuuri could feel the heat rising to his cheeks with the graphic image set before his eyes. Cross…a-and cross…and…cross…

Yuuri swallowed thickly at the "crossing." He could feel his face turning bright red.

A hand waved in front of Yuuri's face. "Your Majesty?" She came in close. "H-e-l-l-o?" she sing-songed. She snapped her fingers to get his attention.

"EHHH???" Yuuri ducked back in sudden fear that Gissela would, for some unfathomable reason, turn to him with a desperate expression and start kissing. The idea was repulsive. Because his heart felt… Yuuri shook his head like a wet dog.

She really should leave now!

"Sorry," Gissela apologized with a low bow. "You were staring into space and I began to worry."

"Oh…uh, yeah," he laughed with a hand pressed to his thumping heart. It was beating so wildly it was almost painful. "I was thinking of…" He had a sudden flash of Wolfram and Gissela—still in the throes of passion—pulling away from a heated kiss with a thin strand of saliva bridged between them.

He cringed. "Mind wandered…you know?"

Mentally, Yuuri kicked himself. What kind of dirty mind did he have now? He could practically hear moaning. And tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Your Majesty?"

Wolfram and Gissela together… Why did that image bother him so much when he was the one who thought it up? Worse yet, it was painful. And, logically, he knew that they were only friends. Yuuri tried to push it off. "I'm good…seriously, really…um..yeah, good," he blathered.

There was a brief silence as the healer's eyes slid over him. "Okay," she said, not feeling totally convinced that all was fine and good. "Why don't you lie down so I can examine you?"

Yuuri looked at her and, then, the bed. Back again. "Let's…not…"

A green eyebrow was raised at that until a thought struck. Then, playfully, she peeked around the room. "Where's your better half?" she teased lightly, trying to spot Wolfram as though he were playing hide-n-seek. "Or, did you two have another argument? Is he in a jealous mood and that's why I can't have you on the bed?"

"Have me?" Yuuri parroted in a squeaky tone. He was sounding soprano today. Oh, hell! What if she wants me, too?

"Well?"

"Not …that," he commented under his breath, but she heard him.

"Then, it shouldn't be a problem." The green haired healer took the young Demon King by the forearm as the bedroom door opened on its own with a wooden groan.

"Yuuri, I just came back for…" Wolfram, still wearing his white bathrobe, stopped in his tracks.

The double black looked from the arm Gissela was holding to the bed and back to Wolfram again. "Umm….Wolf! It's not what it…uh…seems… You gotta believe me." He was flushed, now, and breathing hard—just imagining all that Wolfram, in a jealous rage, would do to him.

Wolfram approached, looking serious, but, at the same time, plucking up courage. "What's wrong with him?" he asked Gissela, but the tone seemed more like an order.

Seeing the sincerity in his emerald eyes, Gissela couldn't help but smile. "I was just trying to assess the situation when you came in on us."

Yuuri felt himself panic. The two of them! Here! And…and there's a bed. But, I'm here, too. So, nothing could happen. And they're just friends and everything. Not that I'm jealous or anything because there's nothing between me and Wolf. And there's nothing between Wolf and Gissela. So, that's that. But it's all weird and all. But I can't help but wonder… AM I LOSING MY MIND??

"Wolfram…" Then, his eyes floated to the healer. "Gissela…"

Both said, "Yes?"

The collar lit up with a blue-grey light and Yuuri's legs buckled instantly. He hit the floor, scraping skin off his knees, before the pain came to mind.

"Your Majesty!"

"Yuuri!"

The double black shook his head. "It's.... It's okay." Those were fine words, but his body wasn't inclined to agree. Instead, he was doing all he could to keep himself upright. Seconds later, Yuuri crumbled down to all fours, physically struggling and thinking to hell with his dignity he was not going to fall again.

With firm and swift motions, Wolfram slipped his arms around him and pulled. Before it fully registered, his own hand now tugging instinctively at the silver collar, he sensed his body rising up and being carried like a bride over to the royal bed.

"It's happening again," the healer said in her clinical tone. She observed the collar and Yuuri's sudden collapse on the bed—too weak to even hold his head up. She made notes on the clipboard.

"It happened in the bath, too. I hate this thing!" Wolfram barked as he knocked Yuuri's hand aside and slipped his own fingers—both hands—under the thick, silver-toned band. Breaking part of the connection between Yuuri and the collar, the device switched hosts and chose to siphon off power from the fire wielding Mazoku instead.

The tug grew stronger as it drew energy from Wolfram.

The healer noted the changed expression on Wolfram's face, a growing exhaustion. She turned to Yuuri. "Is this helping at all, Your Majesty?" Gissela asked.

"Yeah…a little bit. But I can still feel it on the back of my neck."

Wolfram nodded. "It's starting to feel like I've been riding my horse all day. I'm growing tired from this much contact." He glanced sideways at the healer. "This was probably fashioned so that their prisoner would be too weak to escape and, in time, talk or even cause a fuss."

"Agreed," the woman sighed into her clipboard. "But the question is 'How do we get it off?' The clasp's jammed into the collar…making it a solid piece."

"Anissina's still working on the problem, right?" Yuuri breathed, closing his eyes in relief as the glow faded away.

"That's true, but we're not sure how long you can be exposed to this before…" She didn't need to finish the thought. Wolfram touched her arm and shook his head "no." He didn't want Yuuri to worry needlessly. They were going to find a way out of this mess. He was determined to make that happen.

"It's okay," Yuuri assured, peeking a little at the two of them and feeling deep gratitude, now, for the way they looked out for him. What an idiot he'd been earlier with his imagination running wild. "It will turn out fine."

"Of course, it will." The blond said the words and Yuuri knew that he meant them. He knew that he would, at least for tonight, sleep well with Wolfram's support backing him. And that brought a special, meaningful reassurance.

Ten minutes had passed since Gissela excused herself for the evening, heading back to her quarters—leaving Wolfram free to poke around in the closet wearing a very business-like expression.

"What are you doing, Wolf?" Yuuri asked, now propped up on the bed with four pillows and a cup of piping-hot green tea on the nightstand. If nothing else, he was enjoying the wafting aroma with his hands resting lightly against his chest.

"I forgot socks when I came in here earlier. I'll just get them and go."

Yuuri frowned slightly at that. "You don't have to…" He shrugged. "Go, I mean… You can stay in here tonight."

Wolfram stopped, a pair of thick socks in hand, and gave a wary look.

The double black seemed somewhat taken aback by the reaction. "I'm serious."

"Well…" He eyed his potential bedmate. The young man was just lying there and not drinking his tea—which was unusual. Yuuri almost lived for his nightly cup of green tea. "You might be better off with someone here tonight…possibly…"

Yuuri tried to give a reassuring smile. "I'm okay… It's not like I need babysitting or anything." His dark eyes seemed to dim when he asked, "…And can you hand me my brush? My hair's still wet."

The double black sat up when a brush was tossed carelessly into his lap. On some level Yuuri was happy that the blond wasn't giving him any special treatment—especially since falling onto his knees and needing to be carried to bed, a sudden invalid. What he wanted, now more than ever before, was some sense of normalcy. He needed routine and something…something else…to hold onto until he got past this evening…this situation. It was almost a craving of the soul for the intangible.

Wolfram went back to digging in the closet. "I've got my spare uniform in the back and a new pair of boots I'm trying to break in over in the corner. I can wear those tomorrow…" Hangers slid back and forth against wood. "I can wear, for tonight, my military night shirt. It's white and cotton…easy enough to sleep in because I don't really feel like going back to my old quarters just to retrieve the clothes I pulled out of here a little while ago…"

Wolfram sighed to himself as he shed his bathrobe. There was something about putting his night clothes on—something that allowed him to drop most of his worries with the exception of the ones that centered around Yuuri and Greta.

The blond scooped up the robe and draped it on a chair. He gave a side glance to Yuuri. I wonder, will he sleep well tonight? He hasn't in awhile.

The ex-prince had just opened the window a crack, the room being stuffy, when a brush flew past him.

Instantly pissed, "Oi!" Wolfram protested. He didn't like the dark brown, prickly, projectile being hurled his way when he'd done nothing to deserve it. "What, the hell, was that for?!!"

Wolfram, arms akimbo, turned to see Yuuri with only the right side of his wet, raven hair combed back. It looked strange and, keeping a wary eye on the double black who had his head turned down toward his lap, Wolfram picked up the brush from the floor cautiously.

"So…what's going on?" the blond asked, approaching Yuuri's side of the bed. He didn't get an answer. And, for some reason, that wasn't surprising.

Wolfram twirled the wide brush in his right hand. "Something?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I'm…tired…"

He said… 'I'm tired.' So…?

Then, the words registered.

Wolfram nodded as he hitched up the long night shirt and took a seat directly behind the double black, making the bed dip backwards. "Well, Yuuri, you can't be that 'tired' if you managed to throw this."

Slim fingers found Yuuri's chin, before the young king could protest, and tilted his face upward. Head straight now, Wolfram began to comb back Yuuri's hair. Each stroke was soft and even—almost a slow rhythm of sensation with a velvety touch lingering.

"You'll be fine," he soothed in a voice Yuuri didn't think Wolfram was capable of. "And this will fade from your memory soon enough if you don't dwell on it too harshly."

"Wolfram," Yuuri groaned back, fighting frustration again. "You don't get it. You can't possibly…"

The blond continued to bush his hair: over the ears, nape of the neck, down the back. Simple strokes. Even strokes with a lingering touch of softness.

"I think what you're trying to tell me is 'It's easy to say that this situation will turn out fine when it's not happening to you.'"

Yuuri opened his mouth to deny it, but couldn't. The blond was right.

"You know," Wolfram went on casually, "I've been injured a number of times. Twice, before you came here, I was bleeding so badly while on patrol…battling bandits who had an ounce of talent… I wondered if I would …" The blond stopped abruptly and then went back to brushing, his eyes drifting to the past. "Anyway, when the healers found me, they'd always say the usual… 'We'll get through this.'" Wolfram chuckled without any mirth. "But, it was never 'we.' It was always 'me'…on my own…and, then, there's the servants who come to care for you…a steady stream of faces…" He brushed the nape of Yuuri's neck again. "Sometimes, Mother and my brothers would visit…but I'd try to send them off. I loathed the way they'd look at me…the guilt…." Wolfram sighed. "So, I can say, in all honesty, I understand you. It probably doesn't make it feel any better but…"

Yuuri smiled slightly at that. "It actually does…"

Then, the double black's eyes widened as two warm arms wrapped him from behind. Wolfram was now sitting in a position to where his right leg was next to Yuuri's, his left next to his left, and Wolfram's warm torso was pressed against Yuuri's back.

How did that happen?

The double black could feel his heartbeat speed up at the contact.

"I'm your fiancé, Yuuri," the blond said, resting his chin against Yuuri's shoulder. "And, I know, if things were reversed…you'd do the same for me. You'd take care of me. You wouldn't just pass me off as a burden for the servants."

Yuuri took a shaky breath and closed his eyes as the arms gave a gentle squeeze. But, some part of Yuuri wanted to cry because he was afraid of that question. If things were reversed, would I really care of Wolfram the same way? He didn't want to think of it because he didn't want to answer. He was ashamed.

"This is what it means to be in a relationship, Yuuri. The good and the bad. That's what we share. That's who we are."

Yuuri turned his head to the side to see Wolfram's face. "This…is?"

Wolfram gave a warm smile laced with amusement. "Of course it is. What else did you expect?"

Yuuri squirmed a little, making the arms loosen around him. It made him wish, for the moment, that he hadn't allowed Wolfram near him in the first place. "Well…you know…" He shrugged awkwardly. "Couples have…" He blushed. "You know! Together, they…when they're alone…"

Wolfram laughed. "Sex?"

Yuuri blushed to the tips of his ears making Wolfram's amusement rise a few notches. But, he held himself back from laughing.

"There's more to life than sex, Yuuri…more to a relationship than that." He leaned in, brushing his cheek against Yuuri's. "If you think that's all there is, you'd be missing out on a lot."

Yuuri glanced back, slightly confused and slightly impressed. "How do you know?"

A grin. "Because, when I was young and stupid…I thought sex was all there was. Well, that and flirting shamelessly to get what I wanted," he admitted with some embarrassment. "Later, when it was far…far too late, I learned differently and regretted it. But, being The Selfish Loafer, I had to keep up appearances, too." He quirked a grin. "Maybe, I still do…"

"You loved someone?" Yuuri's heart hurt at the realization. It didn't seem fair somehow. Wolfram was, obviously, older and more experienced but... A former love? That made him feel lonely and, worse yet, uncomfortable. The words "woefully inadequate" also entered his mind.

"Not exactly. I didn't love someone…" He could smile at the memory now. It was okay to do that. "Someone loved me…unselfishly. I just didn't figure it out until the funeral and the letter left behind for me…written a week before the incident…asking for my heart." Wolfram ran his fingers through Yuuri's black hair a final time. "After that, I decided that if love came my way a second time, I'd take notice of it…appreciate it…and accept it humbly with both hands." Wolfram squeezed Yuuri again. "And, you're making this kingdom a peaceful place so that no noble will ever die from having their castle invaded…plundered…and their forests burned to ash…ever again."

"Is that what happened to…?" Yuuri asked, uncomfortable.

A nod. "Part of the reason why I hated humans… Never would I dream that I would fall for someone who was half-human," he admitted.

The blond offered his fiancé the brush again. "I know this situation is frustrating…a collar that we can't take off yet."

Yuuri shrugged a "yes."

"I just want you to know that it's okay to be angry, Yuuri." Wolfram rocked him a little—both of their bodies swaying slightly to and fro. "And you can yell if you want to. I won't judge you. I've felt that way many times myself."

Yuuri chuckled slightly. "Holding back has never been a problem for you."

"And you hold in everything." A frown between his eyes followed. "But, if it's just us," Wolfram went on, "then…it's okay to be mad. So, go ahead…throw it again if you need to."

The brush remained in the palm of his hand, bristles up.

"No thanks." The warmth came back and his smile reflected it. "I don't think I need to anymore."

"We'll work things out…somehow. And, I promise, I will do whatever it takes to free you. Rely on this…and me. It's my solemn vow…" Wolfram said while getting up and placing the brush on the nightstand.

"My white knight," Yuuri muttered to himself in amusement.

"Tea?" The blond offered the cup.

Yuuri shook his head "no." It was probably stone cold by now anyway.

"Are you sure?" The young Mazoku regarded him again, a hand on his hip. "Or, do you want to talk a bit more?" The determined body language and questions were so typically "Wolfram."

"I'm tired," Yuuri explained, thinking that they'd probably said too much to each other tonight anyway. "And I just want to go to sleep."

"Not a bad idea."

With a flick of his hand, the fire wielder extinguished all the candles in the room and whispered, "Until tomorrow...when we find a way to free you…" The double black smiled to himself as he snuggled in because he knew that Wolfram truly meant those words.