Letters from Wolfram

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Chapter 1

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Even though he didn't want to, Yuuri had noticed it during the past few weeks—the way Wolfram was slowly fading into the background, little by little, step by step. He had to admit that, at first, it was a wonderful reprieve. For years, Wolfram had been so possessive of him, so needlessly jealous of anyone who came near. Of anyone who had the potential to win him, to take him away. But now the mood had shifted, considerably.

The blond Mazoku, who had been almost a fixture by his side, was now standing in the back of a little group—bent over like the rest of them, examining an old, yellowing map of Shin Makoku painted on vellum. Unexpectedly, Wolfram glanced up and met eyes with Yuuri. Then, just as quickly, the green eyes narrowed and darted downwards. His jaw was set.

"We've been having problems with bandits along the border…right about here," Gwendal explained, finger tracing a dotted line between their local village's border and that of its neighbor to the west, White River. "If we plan an ambush at this point," he motioned to where a little bridge was drawn in, "we can capture them before more harm can be done."

Wolfram hummed in agreement. "But don't forget. There's the edge of the forest…here," the young fire Mazoku pointed. "Just to play it safe, we can position some men and easily cut off their escape route…just when they think they're getting away."

"Yes, we can't have them 'disappearing,' if you know what I mean."

Yuuri blinked curiously at that.

"They've been dressing all in white…as ghosts," Günter went on, "to scare the local populace into submission."

"Thieving ghosts…riding horses?" Wolfram scoffed, a hand on his hip. "Would anyone in this day and age believe that?"

Yuuri smiled wryly and thought of the Headless Horseman.

Conrad scratched his cheek with a finger and asked, "Just curious…Have any of them wielded elements while ransacking and robbing?"

"None," Gwendal answered, "which makes me think that they're human or half human."

"Or very weak Mazoku," Wolfram ventured. He knew very well that some of his kind could never get enough energy together to be any kind of threat. "Regardless, I'd like to have my elite guard investigate and, if possible, deal with these people. We can't have our citizens living in fear." The blond soldier puffed out his chest, straightened his shoulders, and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.

He looks cute, Yuuri thought with amusement. And, it was more than admirable to see Wolfram volunteering and doing his best for the sake of others. He'd come a long way since the day they first met.

Conrad folded his arms against his chest, a clear sign to Günter that the older brother was in disagreement. "We've heard stories that these men are wearing glowing red stones around their necks…possibly houseki stones. All of your men are element wielders who would suffer badly should they come up against them."

Wolfram narrowed his green eyes, not liking for one minute being told what to do.

Yuuri sighed openly, in Japanese fashion, but no one took notice. Following that, he tinkered with the idea of stepping into the "would be" fray.

A quick look in Wolfram's direction. He was still ticked.

Yuuri squirmed internally. Should he or shouldn't he jump in? The blond would be furious if he did.

"This is why my men train. I don't live in a fantasy world where I think it isn't possible for my men to come up against houseki stones." He turned his attention to Gwendal and went on. "This will be an excellent opportunity for them to put their 'training' into 'action'…and for me…" He deliberately met eyes with Yuuri this time. "…For me to prove my loyalty to my country…"

The double black groaned, placing a palm over his eyes. This was just too maudlin.

"Look, Wolfram, no one's questioning that." Conrad's enigmatic smile was back. Sometimes, Wolfram found it more than just annoying. It was condescending.

"But, is this really worth your time?" Yes, in the past, Conrad had used that line with him and, lazy loafer that he was back then, he always fell for it. Yet, some little piece of his heart always felt dissatisfied almost to the point of anger. But he was older now—older and wiser.

A good line, Conrad, but not this time.

"I think it is."

Yuuri tried to find some sort of silver lining to this cloud. "And just how long do you think Wolf will be gone?"

With something akin to a growl, Gwendal leaned over and took in the map again, thinking almost out loud. "Three weeks at most." Then, he spoke to Wolfram without looking at him. "If you haven't engaged with these ruffians by the end of that time, you'll come home. And I'll hear no arguments, got it?"

Wolfram gave a short, respectful bow. "Yes…sir…"

But there was something in the way that Wolfram's smile came to him, a sad sweetness, in getting the assignment—in getting his way. And, Yuuri, for the life of him, couldn't understand what had caused it.

The polish wasn't perfect, not up to his usual standards. But, he was in a hurry. Wolfram sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his right boot on with a bit of effort.

"Lord von Bielefeld, shall I take the clothes and the bedroll now?" Doria asked as she made her way to collect the last of Wolfram's things. The bedroom door was still open, as was proper, and she had another maid waiting to help.

"Please," he said vaguely. He took his other boot and pulled it on.

The women left just as the double black was coming in. He gave a short wave to them as they passed.

"Are you leaving now?" Yuuri asked brightly. He thought that, maybe, the adventure would be good for Wolfram. Getting out and about would help his mood and attitude. Then, life could return to normal.

"Yes, I'm going."

But, suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Gosh, Wolf, you really should have said 'so long' to Greta. She'll miss you."

Wolfram stood and smoothed down his blue uniform with even brush strokes. "Yes…well…I did that after we had breakfast." The statement was clear and simple, but an awkward silence filled the room—making the discomfort grow. There was so much that Wolfram wanted to say. And there was so much that couldn't be said. But that was how they always were together.

"Well, uhhh…" Yuuri shifted gracelessly from his right to his left foot. This was their "goodbye," wasn't it? So, why did it have to feel like this? And, then, he sensed it again, Wolfram fading. Could he even stop it if he wanted to?

"Oh, and then there's this…" The blond reached into his inside pocket and took out a piece of dark ivory parchment, folded and sealed with red wax. Gallantly, he held the letter up for Yuuri to see.

"A…letter?" Black eyes widened impossibly at it.

Wolfram looked at him directly. His face reflected how strong-minded he could really be. "Yes…for you."

Yuuri could feel his face heat up. A…love letter. That's what that is, isn't it?

There had been times at school when he'd accidentally stumbled across a loving couple exchanging notes or diaries. And, on the roof recently, he'd watched a girl with a hopeful expression offer, with reverence, a handwritten letter on pink paper over to the captain of the kendo club.

But that was different. They were different. And Wolfram was…Wolfram.

The blond lowered his head a little. "I wasn't expecting you to take it from me, though." He walked over to the small table closest to his side of the bed. "So, I'll just leave it here." The blond stepped over to the bed and picked up his leather belt, sliding it into the loops and buckling. He noticed that Yuuri's eyes were still riveted on the letter and his face held the ghost of an ill at ease blush. Knowing that, something hurt in Wolfram's chest but he chose to overlook it. "And, Yuuri?"

"Hm?" His tone was distracted. Was he even listening?

"You can open that…" He motioned to the letter. "…if I don't return."

The double black actually blinked in confusion until his mind caught up with the words.

"Oi, wait a minute…" He approached Wolfram with a totally different expression than before and the blush had, mercifully, disappeared. "Are you telling me…that's your will?" Wolfram was too young for a will. They seemed to be about the same age even though, as a full blooded Mazoku, Wolfram was in his mid 80's now.

"No," the blond answered honestly. "My uncle has my will. I had to make one after inheriting my honorable father's estate." Wolfram's voice grew weary now. "That letter is for you…and you only."

"Oh… I see." Actually, he didn't see it at all. But, it was something to say.

Yuuri tried to force a smile, tried to make Wolfram's departure not nearly as cheerless as it was turning out to be. "Aw, come on, Wolf. This is just a three week mission. You'll be back before you know it."

The blond smiled thinly at him as he turned away. "I agree…" And, without another word, Wolfram von Bielefeld left the room.

For three solid weeks, the simple letter sat on the table, gathering dust, and Yuuri loathed it. During the day, he managed to forget about it thanks to lessons and paperwork and playing catch with Conrad. But, at night, the folded paper sealed in red wax seemed to haunt him. It was a constant reminder that Wolfram had felt the need to say something important to him—in writing—because their spoken words were never enough.

A message…if something went wrong; if he didn't come back.

Yuuri tried rolling onto his side, facing away from Wolfram's part of the bed.

Ignore.

Ignore.

Ignore.

The double black closed his eyes with feelings of regret slowly surfacing. I'm so good at ignoring things, he reminded himself. And, by "things," he meant "Wolfram."

But the letter was there—waiting. He hated anything to wait or anyone to. It was the Japanese in him, he decided.

You can't fight culture. Or can you? his mind whispered. Accepting Wolfram's feelings for him was one thing. Returning them was another.

The letter was sealed in read wax. Red. Wolfram could wield red fire. And red certainly described his personality until recently.

But, his glow is fading…isn't it? his mind asked again.

So many questions…so few answers…

The letter.

The door opened without a knock, making the letter on the table slide a bit—making Yuuri bolt upright in the bed. "Who is-?" And, for a second, he deeply missed the blond at his side, his hand planted firmly on Wolfram's side—where he would have been had events gone differently.

"Did I wake you?" the shadow asked as it approached the bed.

"I…uh…"

With a gentle wave of his hand, Wolfram lit every candle in the room. "It's late. I apologize for the bother." He was carrying something white in his left hand. "Maybe, I should have slept in my old room." He thumbed at the door and there was something distant about his voice, worn out.

"Wolf!" The double black grinned widely. "I'm so glad that you're back!"

The blond raked his fingers through his bangs and graced him with a boyish smile. "It has been awhile, huh?" Then, he waved the long, white cloth. "Oh, and we finally caught our ghosts…" He raised the sheet with eye holes roughly cut out of it. Yuuri thought that it would make the worst cosplay costume ever.

"They used them as white flags when they surrendered, too." Wolfram ended it in a knowing chuckle. "They're being held in the dungeon right now until we can get a judge to help deal with this mess." He smirked down at the white sheet but his eyes grew hard. "It's the way you prefer things, I know."

His fingers opened and the white sheet fell limply to the floor.

"Well," Yuuri said gladly, "it's great to have you home again. Everyone will be glad to see you…especially Greta. She's asked practically every day when you'll return."

And, to that, the blond Mazoku gave something like a real smile.

"So, are you going to sleep right away or are you going to take a bath first?" It felt a little strange to ask the question considering he already knew the answer. But, it gave him something to say. And, after all this time, he wasn't exactly ready to let Wolfram go.

"A bath," Wolfram confirmed, going to the closet and gathering his bath things as well as the little wooden bucket that held his shampoo, washcloth, and soap. "It feels like I haven't bathed in a year." He glanced at his nails. "It's like I've got a fine layer of grime all over me…from my fingernails down to my pores."

Yuuri shuddered a little at the descriptions. Where he came from, keeping clean was more than a fixation. It was a core value. Plus, Wolfram was always so meticulous about personal hygiene. He always smelled good—like sunflowers and lavender—and his hair had a golden sheen to it.

"Oh, I forgot…" he said, putting down his armload and going to the small table where the letter remained unopened. He picked up the parchment and, with a single flair, burned the message to ash. It happened so quickly and expertly that the wax was hot to the touch but not liquefied. Wolfram tossed it into the trash without a second thought and collected his things again.

"Uh…Wolf?"

He turned back. "Hm?"

"I…uh…" Then, his words abandoned him. Curiosity fled while taking in the handsome face caressed by candlelight. And Wolfram simply stood there, exhausted from his mission, filthy and uncomfortable in his own skin.

Waiting…always waiting.

But he would do that for Yuuri and Yuuri knew it.

The double black shook his head. "Never mind, Wolf. Just enjoy your bath."

With weary steps, the young Mazoku soldier left the room. The candles, seemingly, flickered and died away on their own with wicks still burning red.

"Thanks for doing that, Wolf," he said as a sigh, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. But his mind kept wondering, kept asking, "What, exactly, was in the letter?" He had felt confusion when Wolfram burned it. And, logically, he should have felt relieved about it being gone. It had troubled him from the tabletop for weeks. But, the scent of ash still lingered in the room. The words had been there—in dark ink, in perfect loops and lines, he knew—but, now, they were gone.

What did they say?

Now, he probably would never know unless Wolfram told him.

Yuuri tossed again, black eyes watching the closed door with the shadows of feet tramping back and forth on the other side.

And that's not likely to happen.

A deep yawn.

Gotta get out of bed…go jogging with Conrad, he thought lazily. After all this time, Yuuri's body just naturally woke with the coming of the sun through the window and the routine was a comfort to him.

A stretch…

Yuuri rolled onto his left side and the scent of sunflowers wafted. Hmmm…Wolf, huh? His lips curled upwards into a smile. It felt good to have Wolfram with him. And the gentle dip in the bed was reassuring, too. The double black hated sleeping alone all those nights. It wasn't as though he was afraid of the dark. It was just that he found himself craving the companionship of another person. Well, specifically, the "person" called "Wolf."

Yuuri opened his eyes and took in the all too familiar sight. Wolfram was lying in bed wearing his notorious, pink nightie. The lithe body with thin, almost feminine, arms slept soundly while a big toe, freed from the confines of the blankets, wriggled. A piggy snort. A grumbled "wimp." The double black chuckled at it all. But, coming closer, Yuuri's childish amusement left him. From the throat down, Wolfram's pale skin was covered with bruises and abrasions. On his forearm, there was the unmistakable mark of a large thumbprint and, along the opposite side, thick finger marks. Knuckles on the right hand were rubbed raw and there was a diagonal slash mark across the back of his hand. "And, another mark on his chest" the double black whispered to himself.

Yuuri, now fed by morbid curiosity, took the lacy neckline to the gown between his thumb and forefinger and, ever so slowly, lowered it down. A fist print, purpling his skin! It didn't help matters that Wolfram's skin was wan, almost too pale, even when he was healthy.

"Oh…Wolf," he sighed with regret and pity only to meet up with hard green eyes.

He woke up his bedmate.

"Yuuri!"

In a flash, the blond tore himself away. He fisted the neckline of his gown—yanking it up as high as possible to cover himself. But, the blankets fell away, revealing a sprinkling of lighter bruises disappearing up to the fold of pink cloth concealing his right thigh.

"W-Wait! Wolf!" Submissively, Yuuri placed palms outward, trying to calm Wolfram down if he could.

"I know what you're thinking," the blond growled as he swung his legs off the edge of the bed. "But, I'll be fine. I was able to heal a number of my own wounds last night in the bath. So, with a little more work, I won't even need Gissela."

"Wha-?" Yuuri fought off the scowl that so easily mirrored one of Gwendal's and all thoughts of pacifying the blond were out the window. "Won't even need…? Oi, Wolf! Be reasonable. If you need a healer, it's ridiculous to…"

Stepping away from the closet, Wolfram took his white silk robe from the hanger and shoved his arms into it. "I told you…I'm fine." He knotted the belt at his waist angrily and, then, turned back to Yuuri. "I'm not that weak."

"Never said you were," Yuuri darkened. This was more than trying his patience. All he was doing was expressing some brotherly concern. Yes, that was it. And leave it to Wolfram to twist concern into something totally ridiculous and have an argument as a result.

"Good." The blond grabbed his bath things again. "I'm glad we agree." But before Wolfram could slam the door behind him, Yuuri glimpsed the sight of deep scratches on the side of his neck where the soft fabric fell away.

"Gee Wolfram," Yuuri said sarcastically to no one, "I don't believe your mission went off quite as well as you wanted me to think. And I'm going to look forward to the reports once you submit them." Frustrated, he put a fist into Wolfram's pillow. A goose feather floated into the air. "And, even after that, I've got some questions for you."

Breakfast was an unusually tense affair. Greta, glad that her Papa Wolf was back, shoveled pancakes in as much as she liked—seemingly oblivious to the grim, formal way that Wolfram was picking at his food. Yuuri, from time to time, would cast an angry glare in the blond's direction. His shoulders were stiff and he felt as though he could barely open his mouth wide enough to eat with the stress he was under. Stress that wasn't his fault to begin with. But he knew who to blame.

Conrad, Gwendal, Lady Cheri, and Anissina continued with their usual breakfast "small talk"—which included the weather, the time of day Conrad and Yuuri had set aside for some pitching practice, and why Günter had skipped breakfast in order to complete his lesson plans.

Yuuri, overhearing, tried not to roll his eyes. He had long since learned to tune Günter out when he wanted to. And, today, being in this dark mood—thanks to his unreasonable bedmate—he didn't feel like doing much other than seethe and sulk.

"Sorry, Mother. I can't," Gwendal went on. I've called a meeting for an hour from now…"

Curiously, Wolfram looked up from his plate. "You did…?"

A trademark glower was aimed at him. "Yes, I sent a messenger with a sheet of parchment telling you and His Majesty to come after we eat breakfast. We have an incident to discuss."

Yuuri sliced a glance at Wolfram from the corner of his eye. "The person came by the bedroom…"

He made sure to say "the bedroom" and not "our bedroom." Yes, a dig and Wolfram deserved it. And, from the way the blond huffed in his direction, he'd gotten the message.

"I told him to leave the note on the bed because you're sure to sneak back into my bedroom eventually…"

Wolfram cocked his head to the side, green eyes sparkled dangerously. But, he forced his attention in another direction. "Could it be…more bandits? I was certain we'd done a good job of it."

"Leaving bruises and cuts… That's what you call good?" Yuuri muttered lowly before taking a bite of his food.

"Shut it," the blond growled and continued with Gwendal in a louder voice, "We were so certain last night."

Gwendal glanced at Greta, wondering if this conversation was acceptable at the breakfast table. Then, deciding that the child wasn't paying attention, he answered, "The problem is in Grande Walde—a village just inside of the von Voltaire lands. As these lands are ones I control, I would prefer to handle the situation myself."

"What is it, Gwendal?" Lady Cheri asked, her usually light-hearted tones gone for the moment.

"There's been a report of plated horntails. And not just one or two…which would be usual for the area this time of year…but a whole colony of them creating havoc in the fields."

Yuuri scratched his head, "Plated…horntails?"

Greta popped a syrup-drenched piece of pancake into her mouth and munched loosely, "Think of fat, long snakes with armor and six skinny legs."

"But if you could get some of the venom…!" Anissina began with excitement until Gwendal flashed a furious look at her.

"Venom?" Yuuri practically choked on his juice. "They have venom?"

"And they can jump really high!" Greta said, raising a hand in the air to show how much.

Gwendal flipped his long ponytail over his shoulder. "Not that high," he corrected. "But a man on a horse will certainly need to keep his guard up and have a sword at the ready."

Wolfram dropped his fork, clattering it onto the plate. He placed both hands on the table and leaned forward. "I want to come, too, Big Brother!" There was something written across his face which said, "I've got to do this! Please!"

Gwendal shook his head "no." "You've just come back from a mission. Only your lieutenant has submitted a report…" There was something uncomfortable in his tone which struck Yuuri as odd.

It didn't matter, though. Wolfram smiled winningly, making himself appear, for a slight instant, like a younger version of his ancestor, Shinou. "So, you have a report. Good! …Which means I have no paperwork."

He added that last part a little too quickly.

Gwendal's face folded into a frown. "Traditionally, you've submitted them, too," he recalled, "so that we have another frame of reference…" He placed his fork down and dabbed at the corners of his lips. "You're entitled to a rest, Wolfram. Not to mention that it will be a much more dangerous mission than before. So, I think my men and I can handle it."

Wolfram shook his head "no" to that. He wasn't going to give up that easily. "But, I really should come…and I can bring the fire wielders in my elite guard as support." He looked to everyone at the table—except Yuuri—hoping they'd back him up. "We can make fireballs that are better than any torch you can come up with…raising them several meters in the sky if need be. We can create fire lions and fire arrows which burn hotter than torches and fly swifter than any plated horntail can run." He sat happily with a smug expression as though he'd won the debate already. "It would save lives…of our own men and those in the village in your own lands, Big Brother."

"Teaming up might be prudent…" Conrad said in a noncommittal tone. Fire had worked against the creatures in the past. And a quick conclusion to any mission was always desirable.

"Or…I could come up with a new invention," Anissina suggested, "so that the selfish loafer would have no reason to go."

For that, she got a sharp look and she knew she deserved it.

"Well?" Wolfram asked impatiently. He wanted this so much he could practically taste it.

Gwendal could feel himself caving in. And part of this was his own fault for actually mentioning the subject in the first place instead of just assigning men and marching off. Wolfram was still looking at him expectantly. Being pressured never settled well with Gwendal—especially from those green eyes.

"Since we seem to be having this conversation now instead of in my office an hour from now…" Everyone got a frown directed at them as he stood from his chair. "I suggest we go to my office to finalize our plans and procedures." He added, "And that means you, too, Wolfram."

Anissina extended a hand to Greta and said, "And that's our chance to escape the men and discuss the anatomy of a circuit in the lab."

"Yay!" And brown curls bounced with each skip in the inventor's direction.

The rest of the room cleared out, too, leaving the staff to clean up and Wolfram and Yuuri still sitting in their seats. The blond practically beamed as he tugged up the collar on his blue uniform. He was getting his way again and another adventure so soon would be a godsend. It would spare him from being with…

"Wolf!" The double black practically barked, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Wha-?" Had Yuuri been speaking?

"I just asked… What do you think you're playing at?" He tried lowering his voice when Doria returned for the pitcher of juice. "There's no way you should be going off on another mission."

Gingerly, Wolfram crossed his arms at that and his face held the familiar "Oh, like I'm listening to you" vibe that the double black hated so much. He snapped, "I don't see what's so wrong with it." And he was about to get up from his chair when Yuuri grabbed his forearm to stop him. This conversation was not over yet!

The blond hissed in pain, head lowered. He'd almost cried out loud, but had stopped himself on instinct. Agony was something he'd never admit outwardly—to anybody, especially Yuuri. But, before he could stop himself, he shoved the double black away. Hard.

"Damn you," he breathed, a hand across the part of his arm causing blinding pain.

Black eyes widened. "Wolf! I-I'm sorry! I totally forgot." He wanted to reach out to Wolfram again, to place a hand on his shoulder, but, instead, he retracted it. There was something wild, of an injured animal in the expression and, in some say—on some level—it hurt him just as much. "Sorry…I didn't mean to."

Shakily, Wolfram stood from his chair and pulled himself up to his full height. His hand still covered the injured arm. "Then, let me go. I really want to do this."

"Wolf," he said regretfully.

"I mean it."

When Yuuri woke up the following day, he knew that Wolfram had already left with Gwendal and the group of men that they'd selected to come. He fell back into the comfortable silk sheets and wondered, briefly, how the ex-prince could stand it—constantly on the go and camping most nights under the stars in a single, flimsy cot. Wolfram just didn't seem the type to like that lifestyle. But, for some inexplicable reason, he did. Or, at least, he didn't seem to mind it so much that he'd complain.

Yuuri let his eyes wander from the canopy to the door when he heard feet marching down the hall. "The changing of the guard, huh?" he muttered to himself.

With a small grunt, he rolled onto his right side and took the edge of the silk sheet. He pulled it up and over his shoulder, chasing away the slight chill. No matter the season, there was always a cool, damp feeling in the castle.

Then, his eyes caught it—a folded sheet of parchment sealed in red wax. It was waiting for him on the small table.

Another one.

Yuuri buried his face in the pillow.

"Not again!"