A Sonnet From a Maou

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A voice softer than a whisper drifted out of the chamber of the king.

They heard the soft words, but knew not of what they meant.

But they seemed to sympathize with his plight as his rehearsing went on and on.

Peering through the doorway and to the table across the room, a book lies in their master's hand.

Old and frayed pages are flipped and turned, with the writing upon them foreign and strange.

He curses once, sets down the book, paces, and returns to the desk; driven by an unknown task.

A blush lights his face as he stumbles the words heavy on his tongue, but the translating carries on.

Yuri's advisers chuckle lightly the time that passes for their young Maou is running out of time.

His fiance returns soon.

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A glance out the window at the country below and setting sun's fading red light upon it, causes the panic to grow once more.

Words of a man long past are difficult enough to understand in his own language, but even more so translated two more beyond.

The bar code on the back of the library book is slippery and proves to be just another distraction.

Now pacing and reciting Yuri's eyes fill with determination for this night he would make things right.

Horses pound their way towards the castle with a blond demon leading the way.

Maturing green eyes take in the site of his home with affection.

It has been many moons since he was last here.

Dismounting with ease Wolfram goes in search of the one he calls king, for there are many things they must discuss.

The brothers of Wolfram watch on, hoping that all will be well and that tonight dinner will a joyous occasion rather than a somber one.

Shakespeare's words dance in Waltz around and around in his mind as Yuri's hands begin to sweat.

A knock sounds upon the door.

Rehearsal is over, let the main event begin.

-

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On thin glass both men tread as they stare at one another.

One a king the other the king's fiance.

Harsh words had brought upon the long separation and they both knew that things couldn't go on much longer like this.

Frightened by what could be his love's words, the blond attempted to speak first.

"Yuri…" he began, but was cut off by a soft shake of the Maou's head.

"I'm sorry that you were sent away... I just couldn't bare for you to be so near. Especially when your feelings for me have always been so clear and mine were not."

Yuri turned away slightly before continuing.

"I've thought a lot about you and me, our kingdom, and my feelings. But I'm too much of a wimp, as you have named me, to say what I've found in my own words. So while you were gone I looked for something that could say it for me."

Wide green eyes watched the hennachoko walk to the desk, he had sat at all day, and pick up a book.

Flipping through the pages Yuri came to a now very familiar page.

Shaking lightly he began to recite.

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"Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
To me that languish'd for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
'I hate' she alter'd with an end,
That follow'd it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away;
'I hate' from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying 'not you.'"

-

A pause came after.

Not an uncomfortable one, but a lengthily one that nearly drove the young king mad.

A blush on his cheeks and the fabric of his shirt crumpled in his hands, Yuri went to finish his confession as he murmured softly,

"What I'm trying to say, Wolfram, is that I don't hate you, I never did… I have seemed to have fallen in love with you."

Clenching his eyes tight the king prepared himself to be yelled at for being a liar or something of the sort.

But instead he heard soft footsteps.

Looking up he saw tears in those green eyes.

Without a single word Wolfram leaned down and kissed his finally willing fiance.

As the maids huddled by the door squealed with joy and ran throughout the castle to spread their news.

After six long years, the prince would finally have his happy ending.


A sonnet by William Shakespeare that is untitled but is listed as Sonnet 145.

I hope this short story was enjoyable.

-elspiffymoo