.

.

Chapter 3

.

.

The Maou stared down at Yuuri with malicious eyes. What his other "self" was proposing was dangerous and, even if they were successful, there was no guarantee that Wolfram would even agree to return. What an idiot this young man was.

The clouds around them were darkening. Maybe, it was fog at sunset. It was impossible to tell.

"Look, I want to try. Please," he pleaded, "don't ask me to give up without trying first." Yuuri gave an unwavering look at the ancient spirit. "I have to do this!"

"Had I no love for the young fire wielder, wouldst thou believe aid would be granted from the likes of me?"

Yuuri looked away. "I've known for awhile now that you…" He cleared his throat by coughing uncomfortably into his fist in much the same way Gwendal always did. "…You have strong feelings for Wolfram."

The black slitted eyes narrowed at the young king. "Why acknowledge my regard? My heart has not been of any concern…and has not been taken into account…since the beginning."

"It's not that, really… It's…" Yuuri shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly. "I know how you feel…I, somehow, feel what you feel…as though it's part of me." He looked around him with the purple-blue of twilight sinking in. "Anyway…um… So, how do we get there?"

The ancient spirit shook his head "no." "Thou must journey alone…" He pointed to a dimly lit flagstone path that was covered in moss. Now that his attention was made to it, there seemed to be a bright point of light in the distance—as though someone had set a fire. And, maybe, there was a shadow there—someone sitting by the fire, perhaps.

"T-This way, huh?" Yuuri smiled awkwardly as he stepped onto the first of many flat stones.

"However, be not astonished shouldst thou return alone. He may not wish this life again."

The double black kept going, his eyes never leaving the distant fire. "And that won't happen," Yuuri assured, squaring his shoulders as he walked along the path, "because you'll hate me and I'll hate myself."

"Consider my words," the maou called after him.

"Yeah," Yuuri returned, "I'll keep you in mind."

Wolfram sat before the jaunty little fire and frowned to himself. He'd been through this before—many times, in fact. But, this was different and it didn't make sense.

The blond was sitting on what appeared to be a rather large fallen log. Flickering before him was the remnants of what was once a great bonfire. It had burned down to embers at one point. And the thought, briefly, was what a wonderful orange glow would greet him before the last of the fire died out. It always did that. No matter how many lifetimes that he lived, his element was always fire and his story ended the same way—with an unearthly orange shine in between white hot logs and embers riding the wind.

Well, almost anyway.

This time, I'm not so sure about…

Wolfram wrapped his arms around himself. The fire wasn't enough. It should have been fading away, but it wasn't. Worse yet, the cold remained. And that seemed cruel somehow. Wolfram hated whoever or whatever was doing this to him.

This nightfall was a place to shed the skin from his last life. A place of purification.

What happened?

There it was again. Someone was calling to him. Wolfram couldn't tear his eyes from the fire. But the voice irritated as well as haunted. His mind was on the edge of remembering.

A voice? Only one?

A wave of cold air hit him.

...Too soon...

The dawn had not come and he was not yet ready.

A tone, sounds. Words but no meaning. The voice was by his side, now, saying something but the significance of it all slipped like sand between his fingers. Maybe, these things didn't matter. Maybe. Then, he felt it, a warm hand on his and something hit him in the chest—felt but not seen—and, for the first time, Wolfram was able to move.

Next to him, seated on the same log, was Yuuri in his black school uniform. And, clearly, from his face, tone, and gestures, he was in distress.

"Wolfram? Can you hear me? Please, Wolf, look at me!" He shook the Mazoku's shoulder with his free hand. "I'll do anything. Just talk to me! You can yell, okay?"

"I…" The blond peered at him as through a haze, his mouth still hanging open slightly. Understanding had not yet reached him until he found himself uttering the name "Yuuri?" and it all fell sharply, painfully, into place. He knew Yuuri. He knew who he was.

The double black broke into a relieved, wide grin. Wolfram was looking at him! He could see him and they could talk at last! This was the first step to making everything better again.

Yuuri grabbed Wolfram by the shoulders and reeled him into an embrace. Green eyes widened at that. Closeness. Touching. Now, it all came flooding back—every last detail. Yuuri falling off a horse. Yuuri falling onto his ass in front of everyone. Yuuri slapping him across the face and not taking it back. A duel. Yuuri disappearing in water over and over again. Yuuri returning from Earth dripping wet. Yuuri and Greta eating at the table. Greta's new lavender dress. She was twirling around in it and Yuuri was laughing at how cute she was.

"Wolfram, I was so scared there for a minute…" A squeeze followed it and Wolfram allowed the arms to hold him. He rested his chin on Yuuri's shoulder.

"You're…here…" Wolfram spoke the words, his voice far away. Why Yuuri was here was a mystery to him. It made no sense. He should be fine. Yuuri and the group had been walking away from him, turning the corner down a corridor at Blood Pledge Castle.

The double black leaned his head against Wolfram's wavy hair. "You have no idea what I've had to do to get to this point…to reach you, Wolfram." He stroked the fire Mazoku's back as the shadows and light from the bonfire slid over them. "You kept your promise to free me from the collar, but…in exchange…" His voice broke and holding Wolfram against his chest was the only way he could calm himself for the moment. He needed to prove to himself, by holding him, that Wolfram was really there. When he was able to speak again, he continued with "You exhausted your magic…all of it! That thing drained you of your power until you had nothing left!"

Wolfram's lips curled upward into a smile. He pushed Yuuri away from him a little so that he could see his face.

"It was worth it, Yuuri. I regret nothing."

Yuuri lowered his head. "But I do…"

"Let it go, Yuuri, nothing is gained by holding on. It's the way of things." A smile followed it and Yuuri blinked at the person next to him. This was Wolfram and it wasn't Wolfram.

The eyes were different. No longer were they bright like emerald jewels. They were older and faded. When Wolfram scooted back a little, he folded his arms against his chest and tilted his head to the side but with a mature, almost parental manner. When he turned back to glance at the fire, Wolfram's expression, Yuuri realized, mirrored Murata's. Eyes that had seen too much, remembered too many things, and deeply regretted his eternal separation from his precious people. Elation, melancholy, and despair: all in one.

"Wolfram, I…" Yuuri touched his cheek and Wolfram, strangely, allowed it without a blush or a grumble of embarrassment. "We were able to heal your body, but your soul is…here." He looked around at the nightfall. "Wherever 'here' is."

"Well, that explains my cold spells and the fire brightening," Wolfram chuckled to himself as he eyed the fire again. It was growing warmer, more intense.

Wolfram leaned forward and tucked a raven strand of hair behind Yuuri's ear. Yuuri, in response, lowered his head again in a somewhat bashful Japanese way that Wolfram, at one point in his life, would have called "wimpy." Instead, Wolfram smiled at it. "This is The Waiting Place. It's the point in between." He gestured to the fire. "As this is my element, it always looks like this when I've reached the end of my life. A water wielder would probably be near a pool of water, lake, or waterfall. An earth wielder would stare into a canyon…and so forth." There was a wry smile this time. "In this place, we distance ourselves from what we were, our Soul Task, materialistic things…to gain meaning from what we've learned. Perspective changes, you see. Because life is, of course, an education. That's why we go through reincarnation after reincarnation." He scratched his chin in thought a little. "It may be decided that I'll be sent back and be reincarnated once more…but I hope not."

Wolfram stretched his arms above his head. He flexed his feet and toes. "Oh, that last life was so exhausting!"

"Was?" Yuuri parroted dumbly, not getting it. He had a feeling of foreboding as well which differed greatly from what he usually felt around Wolfram when the stubborn blond grew determined.

"Yes! Just think about it! I had it all this time around. I had money, status, and wealth. I was a prince, no less. And, later, the fiancé to The Demon King. I had my own lands and holdings… Political power…fame…" He laughed wryly again. "I was the blond haired knight on a white horse! I had everything except…" He smiled again, but in a very unWolframish way. It was followed up with a shrug. "I finally realized, from being here, that my Soul Task was to endure life without being loved. Before this life, I had no idea how difficult that would be."

"That's not fair!" Yuuri said, getting angry now. Wolfram was just being impossible and bratty. Did he really need the roster of people in his life who cared? Fine, then, he'd give it to him. "You've got your mother, two brothers, an uncle, Greta…Gissela, Murata, Shinou himself… not to mention countless maids, guards, and staff. Don't these people even count?!" For a second, Yuuri had the impulse to add himself to the list, but held back. He was mad and counting off on his fingers.

Instead of arguing the point, Wolfram crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap. He was waiting patiently for Yuuri to finish.

"Done?"

"What?" Black eyebrows pushed together.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' But what you don't understand is that my Soul Task was never from your perspective. It was always from mine." He scratched his cheek with an index finger. "I had a mother who threw herself at men shamelessly. I had two brothers devoted to the military and the country. Duty first. Gwendal was grim and you wouldn't have recognized the person Conrad had become thanks to the war. When I wanted attention from them, they gave me things: clothes, money…stuffed animals knitted by hand. What I really craved was…I guess, you could call it 'companionship.' I think that's why Greta meant so much to me. I could give her the childhood I never had."

"Wolfram, I…" Yuuri didn't really know how to end that sentence. In the past, Wolfram never talked about himself. Instead, he'd withdraw into a shell and say that it wasn't a big deal. It was habit and kept Yuuri from digging deeper.

"And then, you came to Shin Makoku," Wolfram went on in the way middle aged men reminisce about their glory days back in college. "I could…after awhile…feel our soul bond in my heart. So, no matter how much my head told me, back when we first met, that I should break the engagement…I just couldn't. So, I fell back on the usual arguments…that I couldn't call off the marriage because of my family status, loss of political power, loss of pride…" The blond chuckled to himself. It was kind of funny now that it was all over and done with, looking back on his life—a view from a height.

"Soul bond?" Yuuri said, curious.

"Oh, that's right! You haven't been here long enough to remember everything." Wolfram smirked a little, like the old Wolfram, and it made Yuuri feel a bit better to know that the person he knew was still inside there…somewhere.

Wolfram scooted back on the log a bit. He placed his hands together, as in prayer, and, then, opened them—palms facing Yuuri with a golden glow. "This should reveal it…I think… You showed me how to do this one time, you know. But that was five lifetimes ago."

Yuuri had heard of the red thread of fate. It was supposed to link destined couples by their pinkie fingers. But, he'd heard of other cultures where souls were joined by the ankles. The double black stared in wonder at the red rope that began at his chest, coiled twice against the log between them, and then reached up to plant itself firmly into Wolfram's chest.

"When we first met," the blond said, running his fingers along the red rope, "we both agreed that we wanted to be together…joined…for eternity. And, we have been since that time." He looked at Yuuri from the corner of his eye slyly. "In one life, I was a prince and you were my adviser. You were there for me when my wife died from her pregnancy. And, no matter how many wives or concubines I took after that, no one gave me comfort and peace of mind the way you did. In our next life, you were my wife and I was a ship's captain." He grinned widely at those times. "All of our six children had your turquoise hair. And trouble. They were such a handful." He scratched his chin in thought. "Now, that I'm in spirit form, I can remember all of our lives together…including the time when we were two crusty, old men in a run down pub called The Horse and Hound. For thirty years, we drank together at our usual place by the window and told dirty jokes every day until the week before I died of a fever." The smile faded from Wolfram's face after that. "It was never my intention to abandon you back then…or to make you feel alone. I stayed with you in that life as long as I could, even when it was painful. After I was gone, you refused to go back to the pub. You said it was too damn lonely." He stroked Yuuri's cheek with a thumb. "It's my fate to die first. And, no matter how many lives we live, you never seem to accept that."

Wolfram reached down by his feet and picked up a twig. He pretended to examine it. "Susanna Julia von Winncott…By the time I was mature enough to know that I had a bond with her, Conrad was already smitten. Near the end of her life, she was probably the only good thing that my brother had. His hair, his body, his mind…all wild…from a certain view point, I suppose. But, he changed when she died. And, when he came back with you…when we all met up and got to know you…" Wolfram twirled the twig between his fingers before tossing it in the fire. "In my heart, I began to feel our connection and..." Wolfram tugged the red rope until something caught his eye and he leaned forward.

Green eyes narrowed. "What is…?"

"Eh?" Yuuri said, not understanding it but trying to look where Wolfram was looking.

Wolfram's fingers ran along the red rope. It was stretched out in places, faded in others, but near the double black's chest the rope had been sawed through more than half way. The cut rope spiraled out, spiky pieces unraveled and splayed out like a small fan.

Wolfram's white fingers touched the edges and his face took on a sad expression. He did his best to cover it with a thin smile, but it took more effort than he ever thought possible to do it.

"What happened?" Yuuri asked, now looking at the rope, too.

"You want out," Wolfram said quietly. His fingers brushed against the edges again—stiff, scratchy, and almost sharp. "You want your freedom…from me."

Yuuri shook his head "no." "That isn't possible. Until now, I didn't even know we had a connection between us. Certainly, not one like this… So, it can't be me."

"It's something only you can do," Wolfram countered softly, trying to mask the pain in his voice. The troubles and trials from the living world were not supposed to have a hold on him anymore. His strong feelings were supposed to be replaced with serenity, peace, and perspective. He bit his lower lip to steady himself.

"No," Yuuri went on, certain. He could see the look on Wolfram's face. He knew that look. And hurting Wolfram was not what he wanted to do and was not why he had come this far.

"Yes, you did." He held back a sigh. "You did it, Yuuri…through word and deed." He tried to sound firm but reassuring. This was what Yuuri needed to know. So, he'd tell him. "Every time you said something that you knew, deep in your heart, would hurt me…you cut a little of the rope. Every time you ignored me…knowingly embarrassed me in front of the court…" The shadows flickered against Wolfram's profile. "The times you ran to Earth to escape me…the times you tolerated me as Greta's second father…took me to the party but never danced with me…"

Yuuri was shaking his head again. This wasn't true. It couldn't be.

"The times, Yuuri, that you let me cry myself to sleep without consoling me…not even once…"

"Oh. Oh, he knew about that," was written all over the double black's face now.

"I knew you were awake, too, Yuuri. But some of the fault…there, I guess…was mine. I stayed in that bed…pretending to sleep by your side because I lied to myself…saying you needed me." Wolfram threaded the rope between his fingers now in an almost contemplative way. "But, I've always wondered… Beyond my element and my temper… What was it about me that was so revolting? I could always see it in your eyes."

Yuuri blanched.

"Forget it." He waved it off. There was no real point to this. "It's over now. There's no need anymore." Then, the green eyes went back to the rope. "This bond between us was never meant to tie you to me against your will." Wolfram gave what he hoped was a sincere smile. He placed a friendly hand on the double black's shoulder. "It was supposed to be a soul-comfort in life. And, in death, I would always be waiting for you on the other side of forever. Eternal companions." The slender hand slipped off Yuuri's shoulder.

The blond could face facts and would.

"But, now that I think about it, I might be able to help you after all…."

It's the way of things, Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head at that. They had strayed so far from the point that it was ridiculous. "What I'm trying to tell you is that your body is healed! All we have to do is get you back into your body and things will be fine again."

"Go back to…what…exactly?" The green eyes were curious now. "I've learned what I needed to learn in this life." He pulled a small twig from the edge of the log and tossed it into the fire. "I know that you cannot make someone love you…no matter how much your heart aches for it. You cannot earn love through devotion, kindness, or fidelity." Green eyes met black. "And when your love smiles at another…instead of at you…" Wolfram ran his fingers through his hair. "I hope you never know what that's like. And, you probably won't…which is a good thing."

His attention returned to the red rope.

"But I can help you one last time, Yuuri. Think of it as a final gift...freedom." Wolfram fisted his end tightly. "If we both pull backwards, I think we can break our bond."

"What?" Yuuri said, jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what his ears were telling him.

"I don't think it will hurt you. It hasn't so far." Wolfram tried to smile. This was goodbye after all. Everything ends. Why had he never thought of that happening between them? "And if you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, just visit my grave. I promise…I'll listen. It's the least I can do for you now, because I didn't do much of that in life."

Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut and pulled. "Be happy, Yuuri."

"Wolfram!"

A desperate hand reached out for the blond.

Standing at the boundary and keeping it open with his magic, The Maou spirit remained ever watchful. The waiting wasn't difficult, but this would have taken too long had time any meaning for him. In the physical world, he knew, it had been three solid days.

A smile tugged his lips when he heard the voices bickering.

"Yuuri, you're going too fast. I can't stay on a path I can't see."

"That's your fault for staring into the fire for too long. It ruins your night vision."

"That's what you're supposed to do—stare. That's why you go there. Hello? Are you even listening to me?"

"Nope."

There was a brief silence and The Maou rested his hands on his hips. Those two were always fun together. Even when he was hidden inside of the double black, watching through his eyes, he enjoyed these times. They often bickered like an old couple—which they were—in the skins of young men.

Wolfram's voice was getting nearer, louder. "Look, Yuuri. Even if I manage to get back into my body, we won't remember what was said. We'll go back to the way things were. And you'll continue to cut the tie that is between us. It will all end the way it's destined to."

"Cut the tie…?" The Maou muttered darkly to himself. It wasn't clear until Yuuri emerged, leading the way, with fingers laced with Wolfram. The red rope was still there—fading but there. And the ancient spirit could see what Wolfram was referring to.

Yuuri bristled as The Maou explored the cut with his own, rather large, fingers. "I…I just…" the young king began lamely and wondered, for a moment, if they'd get into it. The double black didn't want to give excuses for the damage he'd done even though he had no idea he was doing it in the first place.

"You're…Yuuri," Wolfram said with warm recognition, looking up at The Maou spirit with a smile. There was a sense of delight mixed in with it. "I'm glad I could see you, too…Yuuri."

The last of the red rope disappeared from sight as the ancient spirit picked up a "rag doll" Wolfram into his arms, bridal style.

"Weary?" the deeper voice asked knowingly.

"Yes," Wolfram said, feet kicking a little and his arms were now circled around The Maou's neck. He leaned in, looking over the spirit's shoulder and down at a more youthful "Yuuri" who was trudging along, head lowered.

The smaller double black frowned to himself again.

"In what manner, with what sweet words, did my other self sway?" The Maou asked as they walked along. He had to admit that he was curious. Usually, spirits that made the journey to The Waiting Place were preparing themselves for the Cycle of Rebirth or The Heavenly Plane.

The blond "humphed" a little bitterly. "Could I ever deny anything from either of my…Yuuris?" He closed his green eyes, exhaustion coming quickly. His fingers dug into the material of the spirit's clothes, trying to hold on with the drag of the physical world coming closer. "It's something I've always hated about myself."

The dark, rumbling voice next to Wolfram chuckled lightly and with a sexy edge. "But Wolfram is so very much desired and treasured."

A non-committal "As you say" was followed by a sigh.

"Then, what of my heart?" The Maou asked. There was hope in there somewhere.

Half asleep now, Wolfram yawned with his head rolling slightly on The Maou's shoulder, "Then, I'll accept half of Yuuri's heart…"

The Maou stopped in his tracks and eyed—with dark slitted pupils—his younger and more immature self. "Mark my words, I shall accept his offer."

Yuuri nodded in agreement but felt unhappy at the same time. He glanced up at Wolfram who was, now, snuggled into The Maou with a "cat has cream" expression on his face. It was a look he'd never seen before. And, what annoyed him more than anything was that he was—and was not—the one causing it. It was as though Wolfram was at ease with his older twin and not him.

The Maou continued their journey back and Yuuri followed glumly at his elbow.

"Wolfram won't remember what went on. At least, that's what he said." The double black glanced up at The Maou toting his precious burden. "Will that be the same for us?"

A shake of the head. "Sadly, we shall recall everything."

"Oh…I see…"

It probably had to do with The Maou's help combined with Shinou and Murata's aid (Well, assistance that he received after the pair finished arguing over something that Murata later referred to as "mostly insignificant.") so that his soul could journey to the place where Wolfram was. And, so, with shame still eating at him, Yuuri continued on with the full knowledge that he would have to live with everything he had learned in The Waiting Place with no one to confess it to and no possibility of reconciliation of his soul with what he had unwittingly done.

A moment before Yuuri stepped into the blinding light, he began to recall glimpses of his patchwork of lives with Wolfram—as acquaintances, friends, lovers, parents, and even good natured rivals.

How lonely his existence would have been without "Wolfram" (or whatever name fate had chosen to call him). The soul was the same even when the body was given a different form. And, with their bond, they would find each other again and again—if it didn't break somewhere along the way.

And Yuuri was determined that it wouldn't break.

He had so much to atone for.

With a vague headache pressing between his eyes, Wolfram woke up in the royal bed. It was dark in the room and he shifted uncomfortably onto his side, blond hair curling against the silk pillow.

He moved his shoulders followed by hips. There was a stiffness in his lower back—and, possibly, bruising—maybe from taking a hard fall. Falling to the ground. I guess… And his hands felt sunburned. He tried to gently flex his stinging fingers and palms. Burnt? He hadn't done that to himself since the time he'd lost control of his magic and set the floral centerpiece ablaze at dinner one night. What was he? Thirty at the time?

"Wolf?" Yuuri said hopefully, instantly awake thanks to the movements to his left.

"Hm?" Rigid fingers went into messy curls, trying to push them out of his face. A habit. But it only made his fingers sting more. "Damn, that's really starting to hurt."

"You're okay!" Yuuri said, practically shouting in his ear.

The headache drummed against Wolfram's eyes and cheekbones, now, like a mask. He had the strength to mutter the word "wimp" under his breath before sinking under the covers to hide from the loud, annoying sounds that originated from the double black next to him.

"Wolf!" Joyfully, he shook what he thought to be a lumpy, goose-down covered shoulder. This was marvelous news. A gift, really, when he thought about it.

"Yes" was moaned piteously more than said.

The double black, thrilled to have Wolfram, dove against him. He pressed the length of his body against the blond's—spooning against him with an arm thrown over for good measure.

Under the covers, green eyes bugged. Wolfram was awake now—very, very awake. He swallowed thickly.

It was dark. Check.

He was in bed. Check.

With…Yuuri. Wimpy Yuuri. Double check.

Wolfram's blond head popped out. Either his bedmate was talking in his sleep or this was all a bizarre dream. The blond hoped it was his dream, actually, because he knew it would turn out as usual that neon orange bear-bees would pop out of the closet just when things were getting to the good part between them. "Y-Yuuri…" His voice was graveled and hesitant. "Are you…ummm…?" The arm squeezed him around the middle.

"Wolf." Yuuri's face was now buried in golden curls. Wolfram's scent was summer, both sunflowers and lavender. How he would have missed this had things turned out wrong.

"Yuuri, once you wake up," he said dryly, "you're going to be mortified…holding onto me like this…and hate yourself." He dared to take a peek over in Yuuri's direction. Even in the dark, he could feel the eyes peering at him and a smile greeting him. Wolfram felt Yuuri shift with a pointy chin, now, digging into his shoulder boyishly.

"I don't think so," he answered, his memories flicking back to his time alone with Wolfram in The Waiting Place. "You may not remember it well, but… You spent all of your magic saving me and almost died." Yuuri trembled at the memory of what followed next. "I couldn't get you to wake up and your body felt cold…so cold… I started healing you with my magic before I realized what I was doing. My hands just moved on their own over your chest and it was like I was watching myself from far away."

Yuuri stopped trembling when he realized that Wolfram was holding his hand. It felt good, natural.

Before Wolfram could say another word, Yuuri had scooped him and repositioned his body. Now, the blond head was resting on his shoulder and arms were circling him.

"All I could think of was… 'I need Wolfram back.' That's all. I took charge and I forced Gissela to take you here until I could get help from Shinou at the temple. I made Murata go with me to ask and, I think, that helped." He stroked blond hair. "Forgive me, I had to leave you alone for a time until I could arrange everything."

"You were just afraid," the blond explained away, giving Yuuri's chest a soothing pat with his hand. "Things will calm down soon enough and everything will go back to normal." He smiled thinly and closed his eyes. His prediction would come true soon enough. So, in the meantime, he'd be a little bit selfish and indulge in Yuuri's concern-filled embrace.

There was a pause while Yuuri got up his courage. "I don't want that…whatever 'normal' is…I just don't want that anymore. If it makes no sense… I'm sorry."

The double black cringed as he imagined more rope being cut.

Wolfram pushed himself up on his elbow. The Wimp must have been scared out of his wits. He'd probably never had anyone dear to him die in his arms or come close to it. That would explain all of this. Wolfram snapped his fingers and the candle nearest to him burst into life. The double black squinted.

"I'm fine…I think. And everything will all seem different in the morning. Just wait for the sun, Wimp." The blond tucked an unruly strand of hair behind his pale ear. "So, don't decide everything right away." And, then, a thought struck him. His bedmate might choose to have everyone in the castle awakened and brought in to see a "well Wolfram." And, that would spoil everything. "Better yet, let's just go back to sleep."

The blond curl freed itself and stuck out at an unusual angle, like a little horn. Yuuri laughed at it and reached up—grasping it and sliding the silky strands behind a shell-like ear. He admired his work, much to the blond's astonishment. "Y-Yuuri…"

Onyx eyes took on a look of determination that Wolfram knew only too well.

"What, Wimp?" But his tone was soft and his heart failed him—the very thought of admonishing his bedmate seemed impossible.

That look directed only at him. He dared to hope. A spark. Even if this was all innocent on Yuuri's part, the blond could lie to himself and pretend. It was so easy to do because, as with all fantasies, it was so easy to believe.

And, then, the hand stroked his cheek—following the curve down to the jaw line, tickling the neck and drawing gentle circles around the collar bone.

Wolfram gasped and almost withdrew from the touch. Yuuri's eyes danced. He had no idea such a small gesture could make Wolfram react so much.

"Wolfram," he said with mirth filling his voice, "I have a question for you."

The blond nodded dumbly, not trusting his voice.

"I know a little bit about Shin Makoku courting rituals from Günter's test last week. So, my question is, 'What kind of cute present do I have to give to Gwendal so that he'll consent to let me date you?' Can you think of one?"

Wolfram simply blinked at him, barely breathing.

"A courting gift?" Yuuri chuckled and smiled up. "Can you think of one?" he repeated and, when he still got no response, he inched closer to the blond whose brain seemed to be stuck between gears.

Onyx eyes met wide, shining emeralds.

They were close. Their lips were close. This is a little bit…fun…

Wolfram gasped slightly when Yuuri cupped his cheek. "An answer…please…" the double black said, half serious and half teasing.

Yuuri closed the gap and Wolfram tore his face away practically shouting "Piggies!"

"Eh-h-h?" Yuuri scratched his head.

"P-Piggies," Wolfram sputtered with a blush from their "almost kiss." "When you came back from Earth with that green piggy plushy doll-thing for Greta, I n-noticed…umm…" He gave a quick shake of the head to clear it. "I could see Gwendal eyeing it. Something like that would be good."

Yuuri grabbed Wolfram playfully and pulled him down onto his chest again. Arms wrapped around, hugging and nearly wrestling. It felt good. Being together like this felt good in a strange, new way. And their "almost kiss"—he felt slightly disappointed. But, he knew, he'd have other opportunities soon. Wolfram just wasn't ready. So, he'd wait.

"Piggies, huh? I doubt that's the kind of gift I can give that will go down well in the record books as a thoughtful bribe to the head of your household to let me court you."

"Oi, it's not a bribe!" There was indignation.

The double black laughed, head falling back into the pillow. "I'm paying for the honor of your company, right?"

Wolfram glanced at his burned hand when he unconsciously made a fist at the "bribe" comment. And, now that he could see with candlelight, both hands were bandaged. "True," he muttered in a distracted way. It was finally sinking in. He really had been injured badly again, huh? "The traditional gifts among the nobility are silks, horses, 8 barrels of spiced wine, or 5 turkeys."

Yuuri scratched his chin at that. He had to think.

Wolfram turned to him with a troubled expression. "But, are you sure about this? Absolutely sure?" His eyes had a shine to them which Yuuri took to be unshed tears. Wolfram, of course, would be stubborn and not let a single one fall in front of him. Later, perhaps, in bed before falling asleep. "You don't have to do this. I'll remain by your side…until the day comes you no longer need me. And, I'll leave your side without a single regret."

In the double black's memory, he could see Wolfram in The Waiting Place. He was smiling. "It was worth it, Yuuri. I regret nothing."

Yuuri clutched Wolfram to him. He would make things change, make things better. But it wouldn't happen all at once. In steps. That's what he had to do. He would win Wolfram's trust little by little—earn it, deserve it, and keep it. And he would do it all the right way, proving to the castle and the country that Wolfram was, indeed, everything to him.

The next morning, while Wolfram was sleeping in—much to the relief of his family—Yuuri was wading into the royal bath with a very confused Conrad watching from the edge of the tub. His thin smile faded the minute Yuuri disappeared and brotherly concern took over. How would Wolfram react once he learned Yuuri was gone—again?

The day passed and, much to everyone's surprise, the double black returned the following afternoon with a large, knotted-shut garbage bag.

Still unusually pale, Wolfram was waiting there—sitting on a wooden stool while reading a book to pass the time. He lowered the small volume as the tub's splashing grew nearer.

"Welcome home, Yuuri."

Gwendal looked up from his desk with a double take. "Yuuri Heika?" What, the Hell, was going on? He was being invaded. People. People. What was this crowd doing here? The Mazoku stood abruptly from his chair.

Entering the room was the double black Shin Makoku Demon King carrying an oversized package decorated in black and silver sparkled gift wrap. His hair was still damp and the wetness from his skin had already seeped through his dry clothes. There was an entourage of maids and servants crowding in from behind—all carrying cloth-covered silver platters of various sizes and shapes. With a knowing grin, the double black motioned for the door to be closed behind him. And it was.

Looking out his bedroom window, now, Gwendal could see Yuuri walking outside with Wolfram, an arm casually slung around his slim shoulders. Wherever they were going, the young maou was in a hurry—stepping jauntily—and Wolfram went along with it, having a contented smile that seemed new to him.

The gruff general sat down at his modest table with a succulent turkey dinner and a goblet of spiced wine. The oversized package was open on his bed with the torn gift wrap curled next to it.

With a pleased smile, Gwendal tucked into his turkey dinner while wearing his gift from Yuuri Heika—silk pajamas with adorable little horses on them. They were cute—terribly, terribly cute.

.

.

----- THE END -----