Much thanks for gkeeper91 who encouraged me with this ending and betaed my work. Also to HARPG0 for all her support.

Wolfram gasped, thrown into cruel consciousness abruptly, his chest burning as he sucked in oxygen desperately.

"Everything is fine. You're safe now."

That was a woman's voice, steady and soothing; a hand on his chest eased the pain a little. He hurt, he hurt so much. Wolfram pushed his hands out, floundering, searching. Fingers curled around his right hand tightly and he focused on that, anything but the pain.

"Wolf, be still." That urgent voice he knew. Yuuri. He was held down though he had instinctively obeyed, would always obey that voice, the king, his king. However, there was someone else he wanted…someone else he needed.

The pain, mercifully, became remote and he came in and out of awareness as the woman…Gisela, spoke to Yuuri. Wolfram thought he heard Conrad and Gwendal in the background.

But not the voice of the one he needed. If he had strength he would ask, but he couldn't even open his eyes.

"He's stable for now, Your Majesty."

Wolfram lost consciousness.

When he awoke, it was to the sound of horses and the smell of campfire and burning. No, not just the usual wood burn of camp cooking, but something even more invasive. A smouldering acridness hung in the air, reminiscent of the aftermath of a grass fire amid an underlying stench of scorched meat. He cracked his eyes open: it was terribly bright. Why was it so bright? Why weren't the curtains drawn? It took a moment to make sense of where he was.

Wolfram was in a tent and there was a warm hand on his. He turned his head to the right and there was Yuuri on a military issued camp bed which was pushed up against the one he was on. Yuuri had his hand on Wolfram's and his face looked young.

Yuuri opened his eyes. "Wolf?"

"Yuuri," he managed in a ragged whisper.

What had happened? Why was he here? Where was…where was Murata? A sliver of fear curled in his belly.

"Hush, don't speak. You've been injured but you'll be okay. You just need to rest. We'll be going back to the capital in a day or so when you've healed some more."

Yuuri's face was grimy, sooty, and there were tear trails down his face. He wondered if Yuuri knew that everyone could see he had been crying.

"Where is..." He swallowed, his throat sore. "Where is Murata?"

Yuuri looked at him oddly and answered slowly. "He's back at the temple, in the capital."

What? How? "Where am I?"

"Near Abney. There was a battle. Don't you remember? It was two days ago."

It couldn't be. It couldn't be. What deceit was this? His distress must have been obvious, and Wolfram found himself on the knife edge of panic while he pulled his body up on one elbow.

Yuuri placed his hand on his shoulder, trying to keep him calm.

"You said you would come back, Wolf. I knew you would, you promised, remember?"

Wolfram flinched away from his touch, refusing to look at Yuuri. This was not happening.

"No…I don't understand." Wolfram tried to get up and with a cry fell back on the bed. He sucked in oxygen, trying to calm the hysteria that was threatening to break through, the sliver of fear growing. He had to keep control, to make sense of what was happening. How could he be here? Where was Murata? He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, this had to be a dream, maybe some fevered delirium. But when he opened it again, Yuuri was still there, his hand on his chest and he looked worried.

"Maybe you hit your head. I didn't check for that...I'll go get Gisela. I'll only be a moment."

As soon as he heard the tent flap fall with Yuuri's exit, he pulled himself up. The pain came back to his chest and he gasped, hanging tightly onto the side of the tiny bed until the worse had passed.

This couldn't be a dream. It felt too real, the smell and sounds tangible. Perhaps this was some trick. A mind game from Shinou or another creature of heaven playing with mortal minds.

Wolfram sought out the obvious.

"Shinou…Shinou, you bastard piece of scum. What the fuck are you doing? Where have you brought me?"

"Such ill-mannered language to address your god, and here I thought you were raised better." Shinou appeared at the end of the bed, looking as regal as ever in his antiquated robe and armour. Though his words were stern, his expression was amused.

"What have you done?" Wolfram demanded bluntly, not interested in banter. His suspicion was like a bitter hole in his gut. This had to be some stupid game, the alternative was too painful to imagine. With effort, he kept his breathing steady and ignored the fear.

"Nothing," Shinou said mildly. "Your fiancé saved your life and unwittingly defied a fundamental heavenly law to bring you back. Running off down that hill like that was suicide. Such a silly choice you made; you should have stayed by your king's side. But what's done cannot be undone. I do hope your future choices won't be as foolish or cause as many repercussions."

"You took me back? You took me back just after the battle." He covered his mouth with his hand, suppressing hysterics by a fine thread. The only thing grounding him was his anger. He focused on that, held on to it. Pulling his hand away, he put both of them on the edge of the bed, white knuckled and glared at Shinou. "Return me now."

"That I cannot do. You have gone nowhere, you were always here," Shinou answered casually, flicking his hair back. The atmosphere around them was still and dimly Wolfram noticed that the din of a military camp had disappeared. The only noise came from inside the tent, loud within the silence, Shinou's boots and Wolfram's breath.

"But…Murata. I am betrothed to Murata. Yuuri married Elizabeth. I was in a coma."

Wolfram was betrothed to Murata.

Breathe. In and out. Breathe. If Shinou saw his distress, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Yes. That was the vision I gave you. Realistic wasn't it? Well, of course it was. It was a possible future."

"A...possible future." Wolfram repeated in stunned disbelief.

"Well, the most plausible future if you had not recovered. It's hard to say." Shinou waved his hand nonchalantly. "The future constantly shifts all the time – but as of a day ago, it was the most likely. Didn't end well for you, the damage to your heart was ultimately fatal. My Sage cradling your dead body on that hill, not something I would have liked to have happened. Though you did make him happy for a while. Which is more than most mortals could say. What is it that I've been told about the human playwright from Earth? 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?' Needlessly sentimental, but it sounds true enough for you mortals."

Dead on the hill. The pain in his chest…a noise broke from his mouth.

The thread broke.

Funny, he'd never thought losing his mind would be anything like this, everything became numb. Disjointed. He gladly surrendered.

"It didn't happen?" Wolfram said slowly and his voice came to him from a long way, his mind had also become sluggish. But it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore. He shivered, cold.

"No." Shinou said cheerfully. "Now you're up and about, it won't. And you're whole. Shibuya Yuuri healed you completely, didn't botch it up. That was me, incidentally, since it was a mortal choice, I had to make sure he did it right. You can thank me later, though I will have to do something about the young king after the slaughter on that field. I'm afraid my dear Sage's life will still have to be bound to him. So that I cannot change." The last words came out bitter.

"I'm not engaged to Murata?" Wolfram repeated faintly, not sure what Shinou was saying anymore, and it occurred to him that maybe this was shock and not insanity, not that he had any knowledge to tell either way. Maybe it was both. But whatever it was, it was a mercy. He had a feeling that if he allowed himself to really feel, he'd start screaming and wouldn't stop.

He watched as Shinou walked around the tent, poking his fingers into various things and not heeding Wolfram at all as he answered.

"Of course not. Well, not now, though I'm sure you can remedy that, if you want."

As if what he wanted mattered anymore, as if what he wanted had ever mattered. Perhaps if he closed his eye it would go away. He wouldn't have to deal with it anymore, deal with anything.

Now I know what that burning smell is. He realised this in dull horror. A horse whinnied nearby and the flap on the tent fluttered with the wind.

He didn't notice that Shinou had disappeared or when Yuuri returned with Gisela, or Yuuri calling to him, or the blanket that was put around his shoulders, or anything much after that for some time.

Wolfram spent much of the return trip on the back of a covered supply wagon at the rear of the military procession. Physically, he felt comfortable enough, leaning against two sacks of wheat, his mind cushioned with calming herbs which Gisela had provided to help with his 'shock'.

A few days had passed since they had set out, or so Conrad had said, and his mind had come back partially from that place in his head which had felt so safe. He was able to process things again, though only sluggishly. He knew rationally there was something wrong with his state of mind, for normally he would have protested, wanting to be on his horse. But he was fine here, and it was easier to be away from Yuuri.

Fortunately that wasn't so difficult.

Yuuri was out and about along the convoy, so as to be seen by his men, or so Wolfram supposed. To keep him company in turns, there had been Gisela, Gwendal and Conrad. Yuuri had been there, but those moments were hard on Wolfram. He could barely look at Yuuri without a whirlwind of emotions tearing through him, leaving him incapable of doing anything but clench his fists and gasp for breath, and then Yuuri would go away.

At the present Conrad was sitting opposite and watching him worriedly. His brother would have had to be here at Yuuri's insistence; for ever since the fighting had begun Conrad had been practically welded to the king's side. Or so Wolfram recalled: events which had happened only days ago was months old in Wolfram's memory.

There were two other men in their wagon, wounded, one on a pallet with a leg injury, drugged unconscious, and another man, only a boy really, with tangled blue hair coated with blood. All that Wolfram could see of his head was bandaged, and his big eyes looked as vague and fuzzy as Wolfram felt.

Wolfram's head still felt cold and everything felt far-away, remote that even the loud organised chaos of an army on the move hardly registered. Even his future life had become fuzzy. Perhaps that was the drugs, though it didn't make it feel any less real. He knew it wasn't true, that life, the vision that Shinou put upon him. It never came to pass; it didn't happen. But that vision felt real.

Five months of his life gone, forever. Now it only existed in his head.

It felt real. He looked down at his hand and studied the dirt under his nails, his thoughts wandering erratically.

What would it be like when he saw Murata?

Oh, Murata. In that vision, Wolfram had died. He died after saying all those hateful things to Murata, leaving the Sage alone. But that wasn't real; it didn't happen. It was thirty years in a future that Shinou had averted. The numbness was disappearing with his agitation, and he was starting to hurt again. He couldn't have that. Wolfram took another deep breath and let the drugs in his system lull him back into a semblance of numbness, though he clenched the wheat bag to his right tightly, his knuckles white. Even his body didn't even feel familiar anymore.

"Wolfram, are you well? Do you need me to get Gisela?"

Wolfram shook his head at Conrad. "No…I'm fine. I'm just tired," he added when Conrad looked unconvinced.

His brother moved over to his side and handed him some water. "Maybe this will help."

Wolfram took the water gratefully and took a few gulps –, concentrating on that simple act. It was one tangible, safe thing to focus on, and it stopped his mind from drifting into dangerous territory.

He didn't want to be here. Oh Shinou, help him. He didn't know what he should do. Wolfram tolerated Conrad pulling him against his side gently. It was a warm day but Wolfram felt cold. Without thought, he turned and put his arm around Conrad in a hug. He focused his thoughts on his brother, ignoring anything else. Conrad had looked after Yuuri for decades after he'd fallen in that... 'other life'…well, he hadn't…but that was semantics in Wolfram's mind. Conrad had kept Yuuri sane and well. Conrad had had Yozak. Maybe Wolfram being well this time around would change that outcome. He couldn't let that happen; someone should be happy.

"Any of us could die at any time," he murmured against his brother's chest. "I could have died…I feel like I have."

He didn't mean to admit that, but it was true. Death was preferable to how he felt now. Only his

numbness made things tolerable.

"Wolfram…" Conrad murmured uneasily.

"Life is too short to waste time. I know your feelings for Yozak. He loves you. Don't let him wait any longer."

"I…" Conrad said, his voice trailing off uncomfortably.

Wolfram looked up into his brother's eyes. "Promise me, brother, that at least you will try."

There was silence. Not that Wolfram was surprised by this. He didn't push, only resting his head against his brother's chest. Conrad had never been one to talk about feelings, most especially his own feelings.

After about ten minutes, Conrad sighed and spoke, his voice barely audible, "I promise." Conrad's arms around him were solid, real and dependable. The only thing that he could believe in, in this moment.

Wolfram closed his eyes and slept.

The next day, or the next day he could remember, he found Shinou sitting opposite him. Everyone else was asleep, even Conrad. Shinou looked at him sadly and sighed.

"Mortals are so fragile."

Anger bloomed in his chest, sharp against the numbness. He wasn't fragile; he was a soldier, and he could handle a lot physically…but this…this wasn't anything he thought anyone could deal with. Shinou had no idea. He addressed the first king incredulously.

"What did you expect? You show me another life where I learnt to be content after being ripped from all I knew. It wasn't easy but eventually I found happiness. And now you expect me to fall back into my old life as if nothing happened. I've already lost one life. I don't know how to deal with another loss. I don't think I can."

Shinou looked at him in puzzlement, adjusted his robe carefully, and then shrugged.

"Perchance I miscalculated. I was going to make that other life fade so it became like a dream in time, but I think I should hasten matters along. You are no good to the Sage broken..."

Shinou placed his hand on his head.

"No...don't." He protested. Wolfram didn't want to lose Murata. The only thing he had left was in his mind, and he could not bear that loss as well. For he knew, instinctively, that his emotions would not change. He'd still care for Murata and no longer love Yuuri. Without the memory, he'd be left with no more than confusion and shame at such feelings.

"Don't worry, my pretty one. You won't forget what's important, though I don't expect you'll understand why or forgive..."

When he woke again, his mind was sharper. Everything made much more sense, though it didn't make his anguish any less. He recalled Shinou's actions and touched his brow cautiously. Other than his head no longer feeling like it was overstuffed with thick cotton, Wolfram didn't feel any differently. Then again, how would he know?

"No more, Shinou. If you violate my mind once more, I will take my life." It was a vow said in a desolate whisper.

Of course there was no reply.

Wolfram searched his thoughts, finding gaps and some memories were like a dream, just like what Shinou had promised - that he remembered clearly, including the discussion from when he first awoke. Yet, he could scarcely remember the last few days.

Fear went through him, the details of dreams evaporated quickly. He needed to remember what he still had.

"Do you have any spare paper?" he asked the young boy with blue hair who was scribbling on a piece of paper with the stub of a pencil. The boy nodded timidly and handed him a crumpled page. "Do you mind if I can use the pencil for a second? I only have to write a short list."

Leaning the paper against his leg, he scratched out the list. The last line he underlined twice before handing the pencil back. He guess he could have asked any of his brothers or Gisela but he needed to write everything he knew immediately.

He read the lines again, even the first was becoming hard to recollect. "Yuuri marries Elizabeth and both of them were happy together." But the last line, he didn't think his heart could forget. He grazed his thumb over the line gently and closed his eyes.

"Clever boy."

Wolfram looked up and around. The only person around was the boy and the older soldier sleeping on the pallet along with the usual creaking of the wagon and noise from an army on the move. The words had been barely audible. It could have been Shinou, but just as easily it could have been his paranoia.

Carefully he folded the paper, and straightening out the crumples painstakingly, he placed in within his jacket, against his heart.

The wagon standing still woke him up. Wolfram had become used to the constant rumbling noise and movement in the background. His heart sped up when he heard Murata's voice, along with Gisela and Conrad. He lifted his head, trying to pick up the conversation amongst the general noise of horses and wagons and soldiers talking.

"Could you take a look at him...?" Another wagon rumbled by and drowned out Gisela's voice.

"...shock sounds right...able to take a brief look...what I can..." Murata voice was presumably in response to whatever Gisela had said.

"Thank you... same since His Majesty healed him," Conrad said.

A few moments later, Murata climbed into the back of the wagon, and Wolfram couldn't stop staring. Murata was in his usual black, but there was brown dust from the road covering him and he looked so young, his hair short.

If Murata noticed his open mouth gawking, he said nothing. He gave a kind smile to the blue-haired youth who was also gaping. It wasn't every day that a commoner saw the Great Sage.

"I heard you were injured," Murata said gently, turning his attention to Wolfram, touching his hands to his chest gently. His touch was professional in just such a way that hurt Wolfram's heart.

This wasn't the way things should be. The memories were slipping from his mind, as Shinou had said, but Wolfram knew enough, felt enough to know that simple truth

"I feel like I died," he responded flatly. "And Yuuri wiped out half an army."

He still felt out of sorts, not the shock of before but a general despondency. However, he knew that Murata was the best person to confess his feelings, partly at least.

If not him, who else?

Murata nodded, there was no shock or surprise in his manner, and Wolfram was sure he already knew, or suspected.

"I suppose all the soldiers are talking of it. Shibuya is very powerful; it's lucky he got to you in time."

"Lucky," Wolfram said, his voice sounded bleak to his ears. "He broke the rules of heaven for me, to bring me back from death." Repeating what Shinou had told him drew forth a reaction. Murata's hand paused in his ministrations and he asked Wolfram casually – too casually.

"How did you know you died?"

"A dream...just a dream." And he laughed, a tad hysterically.

Murata touched his hand to his forehead lightly. "You still have a slight fever."

Wolfram didn't answer. Instead, he raised his hand and touched Murata's hair, carding the soft strands though his fingers. "I liked it better when it was long," he murmured.

He remembered it longer and Murata gave him a worried look at his confession.

Wolfram moved his hand down to caress Murata's face tenderly. He felt lightheaded. And for a moment he could swear that Murata leaned his head into Wolfram's touch.

Then the moment passed and Murata gave him a slightly indulgent look and touched his forehead lightly.

"Perhaps I am still a little unwell," Wolfram admitted. But he didn't immediately pull his hand away and Murata didn't object.

After a minute, Murata said quietly, "I think you'll be fine, drink plenty of water and rest for a week after you return to the castle, and you'll be as good as new."

Murata pulled away to leave and Wolfram grabbed his hand, holding it tight. "I didn't want to die. I didn't want to leave." I didn't want to leave you. He searched Murata's dark eyes for a reaction, for anything other than that bland, friendly concern.

Murata blinked and frowned, and Wolfram could see Murata's shrewd mind trying to work out the meaning of his words. He had Murata's full attention in that instant. You know there is something wrong, Murata. Think. You know that there is more to this. Or…that I'm not right, not anymore. I can't say, I'm afraid to try, but you could ask. Please ask.

"You're fine now," Murata assured him in a gentle steady voice, rubbing his shoulder. Wolfram squeezed his eyes shut in disappointment. It was that instance of friendly reassurance….only friendly...which broke through the last of Wolfram's numbness. He wanted some type of connection, some recognition even if he knew it wasn't possible. This Murata wasn't his; this Murata couldn't understand. But Wolfram couldn't help but try once more. Because...it was still Murata. He hadn't lost him yet, even if he wasn't engaged to him in this reality.

I'm sure you can remedy that, if you want.

Shinou's words came to him. Every single conversation with Shinou had stayed in his head and without that fugue of before, it was clear. (At least he hoped it was every single conversation; there was no way to know.) He shook his head and addressed Murata desperately, his hand still tight around his.

"No, I'm not fine. It's not the same. I don't feel the same, Murata Ken." I'm not the same. Using Murata's full name without his title was shockingly familiar, and he knew that was also bringing a reaction, but it didn't feel unusual to address him that way.

Murata hesitated, brow creased in concern. But then he shook his head sadly and said, voice low, "I need to go, Lord von Bielefeld. But later, we will talk?" Murata made it sound like a promise.

Wolfram let go his hand abruptly with a tiny unhappy noise. But at least he could try again, to what end, he had no idea.

"Yes. When you get back?" He asked hopefully.

Murata looked at him a moment longer, his gaze intent, nodded once and left.

Wolfram insisted on riding on his horse against his brothers' protests. He needed to come into the city mounted, even though he was not going through the main entrance with Yuuri and his brothers – but the back way with Gisela with the wounded and some of the supplies – he needed his mother and Greta to see that he was fine, and he wanted to be able to spend a bit of time with Blume. He was the glad the horse survived; he'd been worried for a moment that she was lost.

He looked at the words he'd written on the scrap of paper – he remembered the conversation with Shinou, he remembered writing these words down – but the memories behind them had all but gone. It frightened him, to know that he had such little control over his own thoughts, over his own memories. Forcing himself to remember made them disappear even faster, dissipating like a fine mist in the morning sun. But things would come to him, images. Some of them were ordinary, others…were embarrassingly intimate.

With that knowledge came intense anger, and despair, and a feeling of betrayal. But without the cause, without knowing why, it just confused him. His list was so brief there was so little detail. Why did he get engaged to Murata? How could Yuuri not wait for him when he was in a coma? How did he come to stop loving Yuuri and love Murata? How could he possibly ever stop loving Yuuri?

As they moved under the old portcullis up toward the back entrance, he could hear the cheers of the crowds down in the city. It would take another hour or so, probably more, before Yuuri made it to the castle. As much as he felt guilt for not being there with Yuuri, he was glad he didn't have to join in. He didn't think he would have had the strength.

He felt a little light-headed as he got down unsteadily from the horse.

"Papa."

Wolfram found himself with a handful of a fast growing girl, almost as tall as he. He hadn't seen Greta in over a month...but it felt much longer as he hugged her close. He squeezed her tightly, overcome by a heavy and overwhelming gratitude that his daughter was here with him.

"Papa. "

"I missed you, Greta."

"Oh, Papa. I was so afraid." They held each other tightly.

Yuuri shoved the papers onto the floor, along with open ink wells, scrolls and quills. Wolfram watched, uncomprehending, as the ink soaked into the expensive carpet.

It was the first day that Wolfram was allowed out of his bed and he was still trying to make sense of the world.

"This isn't going to happen," Yuuri yelled at Gwendal. "People died." Gwendal folded his arms and said nothing, not quite able to meet Yuuri's eyes.

"It's important for morale," Conrad cut in smoothly.

Yuuri ignored him, his jaw flexing as he glared at no one in particular.

"Diplomatically, it will be significant, Shibuya, for there will be foreign envoys invited. It's an opportunity for them to renew public fealty. For peace." Murata's voice was firm, but carefully shy of confrontational. He'd only just returned yesterday from inspecting the scorched battlefield around Abney. The Great Sage was as composed as ever, but there was a solemn air around him that Wolfram couldn't help but see. If truth be told, Wolfram had spent most of the meeting stealing glances at him. The feelings he felt having Murata close by settled certainty in his gut.

"No. This is not something to celebrate." Yuuri was obstinate, getting up and looking out the window, turning his back on them.

Wolfram became aware uneasily that everyone was looking at him, to him. But he wasn't sure what to do; this short-tempered, volatile Yuuri wasn't something he knew how to deal with. He was sure his own distance wasn't helping. He had hardly seen Yuuri since returning to the castle, spending so much time in their rooms, with little energy to deal with anyone. Yet he had to try. Whatever his troubles, he still cared.

He stood up and walked up next to his fiancé. "Yuuri?"

Tentative.

"No, Wolf, there isn't any point in trying. I've made up my mind."

Irritation surfaced and some of his old short-temper returned.

"So you don't care about how Sir Wagner feels, or any of my men? You don't think they deserve some time to celebrate, time to remember those who fell?"

It wasn't just what went on in the main banquet hall. The entire city would be having festivities – a decisive and swift victory for Shin Makoku – but this time with few casualties. The small village of farmers and millers who would otherwise have been butchered remained safe – unlike the prior war which had raged for years and rendered so much of the countryside bereft of a living soul. There had been so many villages destroyed or abandoned, not to mention the starvation and deprivation of the years following with nobody to tend or plant the crops.

So as devastating as the battle was outside Abney, it was still a clean victory, and mazoku and human alike would want to celebrate and give thanks to the Maou for their life. And if the king didn't observe and recognise the victory, then it would be bad for morale and a diplomatic opportunity lost.

Wolfram touched Yuuri's shoulder gently and said again, a small plea in a low voice, "Yuuri?"

"Fine, okay…just don't expect me to enjoy it." And with that forced concession, Yuuri turned and left the room without even a backward glance, leaving the rest to pack up and Conrad scrambling after him. The meeting, it seemed, was at an end.

Wolfram looked out the window, his annoyance gone, and yet again feeling disconnected and depressed, like he didn't belong here. How could it be when he couldn't even remember the vision that according to his list it was like living months of his life? Did anything matter anymore?

Perhaps he should go after Yuuri... The thought came to him slowly, and he immediately felt shame for not thinking of his fiancé first and foremost. All through that meeting, his thoughts had only been on one person-

"Bielefeld."

He jumped, startled as Murata came up behind him.

"You've been quiet. You want to have that talk."

Wolfram shrugged. He didn't know what he could say.

"I died. I'm handling it as well as anyone could." Better than Yuuri dealing with the fallout from the battle. Murata gave him a sceptical look and he knew he wasn't fooling him. Of course, after their conversation they had in the back of that wagon, Murata would have many questions.

Yet, this is what he had wanted, to talk to Murata.

He sat down and there was silence as he tried to gather his thoughts. Murata let him, patient in a way Wolfram knew he could never be. After opening his mouth a few times he spoke down at his hands quietly. "When I died, I had a vision."

Murata said nothing and there was silence for another moment.

"It was of the future." Wolfram said carefully, wary of revealing too much. "That's how I knew about what happened…at the battle."

"It's not uncommon with mazoku of your talents, all things considered. When the veil between life and death is thin, many things are possible," Murata said, sitting down next to him. "Though such knowledge is often a curse, the future is never set in stone. Nothing is ever definite."

Shinou had said something similar. He wondered if someplace else, somewhere else, it would still come to pass for another Wolfram. Definitely not here; that moment had passed for him. He turned his attention to Murata.

"A curse…maybe. I can't remember most of it. Only flashes here and there, like a dream."

Murata's long black hair on white sheets. A touch of a hand on his forehead. Murata's lips on the delicate shell of his ears in a bright room full of paintings. Pain as he died in Murata's arms. Those were all that remained of his memories, the only things that hadn't faded, other than his feelings and the scribbled words on the paper which was now hidden amongst his things. He didn't need it anymore; he'd memorised every word, especially the last line. But it was the only tangible thing he had left.

"But I did remember everything when I woke up, and when I started to forget, I wrote things down. So I know some things. I feel they are true."

"That's what has you so troubled?" Murata asked. "You've been very quiet in this meeting, distracted. It's very unlike you."

Of course it was. He hadn't felt himself since waking in that tent near Abney.

Wolfram nodded. "It wasn't just a vision. It was something that Shinou sent me." At the mention of the Great One's name, Murata exhaled heavily, his eyes flashing quicksilver with an anger that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Wolfram paused for a moment, waiting for Murata to say something, but after a few moments of silence, Wolfram continued, "I lived it. I lived the vision as if it was real, for months, years even. Another life. I can't remember it, but…my heart can." He looked at Murata's kind face and with a rush, confessed out loud what he'd been feeling for days. "I don't love Yuuri anymore."

"Ah."

Wolfram could see that Murata was putting things together. He was sure he knew. The man was very clever, quick to work out puzzles and had years of knowledge to draw upon. Surely he wasn't the first person to have had this happen to. There would have to be accounts somewhere. Maybe Shinou had meddled before, or some other creature from that realm that could play with fate and mortal minds. He knew from stories there were others, though Shinou was the mazoku's primary guardian, once mortal who had risen to a higher plane.

"I've already decided to end the engagement. I don't expect it will be easy." It had been all he thought about while resting in bed, his body buried under blankets, staring out at the light outside. That and Murata.

"I won't ask if you're sure," Murata said slowly, "You've never been one to ignore your heart." He added wryly, "But…I'm asking, perhaps if you should consider marrying Shibuya nonetheless. Under the circumstances it would be…prudent. As a noble, you know most unions aren't based on romantic love. And you still like him as a friend?" The last words came out as a question.

Wolfram closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"As a friend and a brother, yes, but don't you think Yuuri would work it out? The Maou would notice it soon enough and Yuuri is never far behind." Wolfram had no idea how things worked between the Maou and Yuuri. He had hoped once that he'd work it out, as the king's husband. Now that was unlikely. "He needs love, he needs to be loved. Especially now. Perhaps it's wise for me to keep by his side, yes, but I can't give him what he wants. How do you think he would feel when he realised this? He's hopelessly sentimental. " Wolfram snorted in half-disgust. Just like I am. And unlike Yuuri, he had no excuse; he hadn't grown up with such unrealistic expectations.

Murata nodded slowly.

"Yes, you are right. But this, as you have said, is not going to be easy. My advice, if this is what you've decided, is to do it soon, but after the celebratory banquet. Break it to him gently and in private. He deserves that."

"The vision-"

Murata put his hand up. "It's better that I don't know the details."

Wolfram opened his mouth to protest.

"I'm sorry, Bielefeld, but I think…I can guess what it is, though I do not want to presume. If they are …I'm not saying…I'm not saying it's impossible or that it's not welcome."

And to make things even less ambiguous, Murata pulled Wolfram's hand into his and he looked down at them joined, and felt hope at such a small contact, so small but significant, shockingly intimate for the Great Sage, and considering who Wolfram was, who Wolfram was engaged to. Wolfram restrained himself from squeezing Murata's hand.

"But not now. As the Great Sage, I cannot let such things complicate my relationship…my friendship with the king. The next few years is going to be challenging as it is." And just as slowly Murata removed his hand and gave him a regretful smile. Wolfram wanted to weep. To be so close, and yet still so far.

Wolfram took a deep breath and took a moment to centre himself. "I'm going to leave after, back to my uncle's estate, but in a few years I could return. That is, if things were more…welcoming?" He was afraid to hope, but he wanted so desperately he couldn't help it. It was that hope which had kept him sane so far and that same hope which he'd pinned his future on. Anything else was too bleak to consider.

"I cannot promise anything." Wolfram's heart sank. "Ah Bielefeld," Murata smiled sweetly, seeing the distress Wolfram couldn't hide. "The world isn't something I can control, circumstances change and there is always uncertainty. So I cannot promise. But if things work out and we are both alive and the opportunity exists, I hope to see you return. I would fervently hope so if that is what you still wish." Murata touched his hand again, so lightly and looked him in the eye. "I like you, Wolfram..." at the use of his first name, Wolfram's heat quickened. "... though I never dared hope for more. I would like to get to know you better. Visions of the future aren't certain, but how I feel right now, that won't change in five years or even ten years. That is one certainty you can be assured of and all I can promise."

Murata stood up abruptly, becoming politely distant, his expression and eyes blandly pleasant. So quick was the change that Wolfram wondered if he hadn't just dreamt Murata's words.

"I think I'll go seek out Lord von Voltaire. He'll need to know about some details of this banquet."

Wolfram gave Murata one last hopeful smile and they left the room and parted ways.

The next morning he awoke with Yuuri curled against him, one arm over his chest. Even in sleep Yuuri looked exhausted, his brow slightly creased.

Wolfram petted his hair with sad fondness and Yuuri curled up further against his warmth.

Since they had returned, he'd been long gone before Wolfram had awoken, and now…well, once he would have loved this. Now it just broke his heart.

He thought about Murata's advice, about staying by Yuuri's side despite his feelings and for the first time, he seriously considered that option.

Maybe I could learn to love you again, he thought curling his hand around Yuuri's waist. Maybe.

Or maybe not.

"I do love you, Yuuri," he said quietly and Yuuri did not stir. "How could I not?" he thought. You are beautiful, and kind, and a great king. And I'd proudly follow you anywhere. Yuuri was the king and as a soldier and noble, Wolfram's loyalty was absolute. However, his affection was the love of a friend or a brother, the love he had for Gwendal, or Greta. Wolfram would always see Yuuri as family.

It was so unfair.

I can't marry you and you're going to hate me. I think this is the last time we'll be this close. Wolfram wiped away the tears that were falling down his face. He pulled the covers around them both snugly and put his arms around Yuuri and kept a vigil until the room became lighter and the day began.

It did not end well.

Wolfram knew it would not be easy. Just like he had admitted to Murata, he knew it would hurt Yuuri no matter how he raised the matter, but he didn't think it would involve the Maou's fury, or going up against his possessive nature. And he didn't think he'd let his pride and quick temper get the better of him – not that he had any illusions about the latter, but he'd been determined to remain calm.

Which is why this had turned into quite an embarrassing, and potentially dangerous debacle as the Maou had followed him out into one of the main halls. Servants, courtiers and a handful of minor nobles watched. It was the day after the celebratory banquet so there were still a few around, more than usual at this time of the morning. There was not going to be any privacy in this matter.

"Wouldst thou renounce this betrothal, forsake all that you fought so hard for, reject our love?" the Maou boomed, glowing blue, his eyes bright with suppressed rage.

It was then that Conrad and Yozak ran into the hall, skidding to a stop on the polished marble floor when they worked out what the commotion was about. No one would intervene, could intervene. There was no authority in the land that could stop the Maou…well apart from one and he wasn't confident that Shinou would either. For all he knew, this was exactly what Shinou wanted with his manipulations.

Wolfram couldn't stop his trembling, or the tears leaking from his eyes. He stood tall and looked the Maou in the eye.

"I would renounce it." He was glad his voice did not crack.

The Maou's blue glow became brilliant. "Bright one, most loved, I burned an army for you – defied the laws of heaven to bring you back. Yet you would throw this away?" The windows in the hall shook and Wolfram couldn't help flinching.

He said nothing. There was nothing he could say that he hadn't already. Yuuri could not accept it, so he had left, running away before he'd say something horrible in anger. A bad mistake.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri. I cannot continue this, I don't…love you." He had said less than an hour earlier. Naturally Yuuri had been hurt, had demanded an explanation. Except there was nothing Wolfram could have said to explain it. Nothing that Yuuri could possibly understand in his agitation.

He had another burst of memory, the image of long black hair on white sheets, black hair that wasn't Yuuri's. He closed his eyes guiltily for an instant, afraid that the Maou could reach into his mind and see his treasonous thoughts.

He opened his eyes to face silent fury.

The Maou's voice lowered, yet no less intent and deadly. "I wouldst command you to stay, I wouldst have you submit to me, for I am your King and you are mine!" The last words came out as a furious snarl.

For a second Wolfram was afraid that the Maou would grab him then and there, and force him down on his knees. Such was the dark aura emanating from him. He could imagine that should he submit, the Maou would relish the opportunity to claim him, publically – to demolish his defiance and humiliate him in a way that would slam shut any hopes that Wolfram had for the future.

The Maou had gotten darker ever since Abney, and so had Yuuri. He should have realised this. If the Maou took him, Yuuri wouldn't forgive himself…and Wolfram didn't think he could either.

There was only one thing he could think of to avert such a disaster.

"Yes. If you would command me, I will submit and be yours. You are the Maou, you are the Demon King, and as a mazoku, noble and soldier, I will obey you in everything. I would allow you to claim me; I would marry you if you command. But, Yuuri…I can't love you." Wolfram voice cracked, and he faltered for a moment and lowered his voice so only Yuuri could hear. "I can't love you the way you would want, the way you deserve to be loved."

The Maou growled, half anger, frustration and grief. And Wolfram closed his eyes, expected his claws on him any second, for him to be pushed down, his clothes ripped and he would have to bear it.

But nothing happened, and there was not a word from everyone else in the hall, frozen still by the scene unfolding before them. Wolfram opened his eyes and looked at the Maou, whose glow had subsided and he looked lost.

"Perhaps this is my punishment," the Maou said after a moment. "I should not have let you down into that battle, for that is the moment I lost you."

Wolfram swallowed.

The Maou came closer, but no longer threatening, and looked him in the eye. "Yes. I lost you when you died." A strange look came into his eyes. "There are so many futures that it is hard for me to live in this mortal sphere and see them as clearly as I once did. So many, so many you are with me, nearly all, and only two where you are not, one where you die and one where…" The Maou stopped suddenly and gave him a hopeless smile, a look of heartrending acceptance on his features. Wolfram did not expect empathy. He was torn between crying and asking the Maou what he saw, though he knew he could do neither.

For some strange reason, he felt the Maou understood…perhaps more than Wolfram did.

He wished this had not happened here in this hall. He wished Murata was with him, even sensing that having him here now would have been a disaster.

With a sigh, the Maou said loudly, "I relinquish my claim." And Wolfram could swear that he could feel a pull on his soul, like something was being ripped from him, not painful, but uncomfortable all the same. He could not hold in the sob that escaped him. There was loss, a cold emptiness, not of what was, but what could have been.

After a while, he came back to his senses, acutely aware of eyes watching him, judging, reproving. Wolfram was thoroughly sick of living his life as a stage play for others, but he knew when he had performed abysmally and was old enough to know the consequences.

He had rejected the king. And for that, he had to be strong. He had plans to leave before, but now this would make it certain, he could not stay at the castle and continue to embarrass Yuuri. He'd hurt him enough.

At once the Maou left, leaving behind Yuuri, bowed over in grief. Wolfram went to reach for him, but he stopped himself. He was to blame for this; it was not for him to comfort. Conrad was there to hold him, giving Wolfram a hard look of disapproval. Wolfram faltered. Conrad would not understand; he didn't expect him to, but it hurt still.

More than ever, he felt the desperate, almost physical need to have Murata with him. He couldn't remember why anymore other than those flashes and the words he had written, but his feelings could not be denied.

Keeping his head high, he turned and left Yuuri behind in Conrad arms weeping, and went to find a place where he could grieve alone.

"Well, you certainly made an impression, kiddo. Nobody is going to forget that for a long time," Yozak pointed out to him dryly, having found him in one of the smaller balconies barely two hours later.

Wolfram was glad that Yozak hadn't commented on his red blotchy face. His complexion had never let him get away with hiding it when he cried.

"Is…Conrad. Is he fine?" And Yuuri, but he had no right to ask.

"He's angry and disappointed and worried about you…and worried about the king. And I can't say I blame him. The kid is a little delicate at the moment and your timing – to quote the young king during better days – 'sucks'. Was this something you needed to do now?" A hint of anger had seeped through Yozak's usual ironic drawl.

Wolfram closed his eyes for a moment.

"Yes, if I didn't do it now…it had to be done. It would have been worse for him if we'd married. I don't love him."

Short derisive laughter erupted from the spy and Wolfram fought the urge to hit him.

"Yes, and half of Shin Makoku heard that, or will by the end of the week." Yozak rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Your eldest brother wanted me to run interference, but with so many witnesses, it wasn't possible. I haven't enough resources to blackmail and bribe them all. Short of having them all done away with." Yozak laughed again, this time grimly. Three Maous back, that would have been a practical solution, but under Yuuri's reign, it would never happen. Yuuri had killed soldiers against his nature; he wouldn't have innocent bystanders killed to protect his pride and nor would Gwendal allow it.

"I'll write and sign the petition of annulment. Would you deliver it?" In some ways it was redundant, considering the Maou had relinquished his claim and Murata had given his endorsement beforehand, in a way, but it was protocol.

Yozak nodded. "He won't be surprised. I sent a messenger bird to him informing him of...events." Of course, it was easy to forget sometimes. Yozak formally worked under Gwendal, yet his loyalty was to the Sage. They were good friends, and Murata had taken a keen interest in espionage, a traditional responsibility for the king's counterpart. "He's had me keep an eye on you, my Lord. I was wondering why, considering it was the king who incinerated hundreds of men, but I'm starting to see that the battle near Abney had changed someone other than him." Yozak gave him a sympathetic look.

Wolfram ignored Yozak's concern. They had never been friends. He respected the spy for his skills and because he was Conrad's partner and Murata's confidant and friend, but Yozak's insolent personality had always grated on him, and he would not accept any pity from him. The man had never known his place.

Wolfram would inform Greta, and then there would be the formal dissolution to prepare for. There was little hope he'd get out of that. To save face, Yuuri had to let him go in a more formal setting, probably the ball later this week. A public kiss to say goodbye.

And, he thought to himself, I'll need to talk to Elizabeth. Yuuri will need a friend, and if his notes were to be believed and his gut told him it was so, she was going to become very important to the king.

"I'll leave the castle as soon as the king annuls it publically." He told Yozak.

Yozak frowned.

"I can see why, kid…but I'd advise against it. The castle is big enough for you both to live here, particularly if you spend a lot of time out in the field."

"No," Wolfram said emphatically. "Yuuri will need me away, for him to…move on. He can't do that if he keeps on running into me in the halls. I'll take my remaining men and go back to Bielefeld." More importantly, for the king's reputation, it would remove Wolfram from temptation. Murata had an iron will. Wolfram did not, and the next year or so would have him feeling very vulnerable. He'd need to bury himself in work.

"The Captain will miss you. So will Lord von Voltaire."

"I won't stay there forever – just for a few years. I'll visit a few times and eventually I'll return." He had someone to return to, if the fates were kind, but he wasn't going to tell Yozak that.

Yozak hummed agreement and put his hands behind his head, leaning against the balustrade casually as he regarded Wolfram. "Maybe you're right – at least until the next scandal." He then stretched his arms, turned and looked out towards the temple. "Maybe I'll try to generate something in a few years; there are a few secrets some of the aristocratic lords have which would embarrass them. I've been keeping them for a political stormy weather. Yet I think it would be worth using those tasty tidbits for your brothers…and for His Eminence." Yozak turned and gave him a knowing look. He didn't know how or why but he was sure Yozak guessed his feelings. "When you return, let me know and I'll get things started."

Wolfram nodded, his gaze towards the temple. He'd be away for a long time. Who knew if what he wanted was possible? He had to keep his hopes in check and focus on getting through each day as it came.

That night, he dreamt.

They were in the ballroom and everyone was watching but Wolfram didn't mind. He was in Yuuri's arms and felt so happy. Yuuri was clumsy, not following the steps of the music. He was either ahead or late, but he swept Wolfram along with it and they worked together perfectly. Yuuri's eyes were on him, smiling, and he felt safe and loved. But then the music got faster and faster and Yuuri spun him around more rapidly, still clumsy but Wolfram wasn't able to keep in step with him anymore. The rhythm was broken.

"Slow down, Yuuri!" he cried over the music, which had become raucous, but Yuuri didn't hear him and he was swept off his feet. He felt sick and then Yuuri stumbled and Wolfram fell. His last image was of Yuuri's panicked face as he reached down for him in vain.

He was flat down on the ground, a burning pain in his chest yet still in the ballroom, though the ground was dirty and covered with blood instead of marble. He crawled to his feet but wasn't able to get up, his strength failing him. The ballroom was packed by people and all were disregarding him, a sea of legs.

Just when he was about to despair, a hand pulled him up and he was swept into the arms of the great sage, whose smile was sweet and whose eyes gleamed with amusement.

Mature and handsome, he caressed Murata's braid in fascination as he was held tightly against the Sage, safe. The music slowed down and became sensuous. Murata pulled him in closer; there was little space between them. Wolfram could feel the sages's warm breath on his neck, and it was easy to follow his lead. Too easy.

He closed his eyes to savour the sensations through his body as Murata's hand slid down his backside. When he opened it, Murata was above him, inside him, and they were in a soft bed, unclothed. The music was still playing and the rhythm continued as he arched his back up to feel more.

Murata rolled them around and Wolfram was on top, looking down the sage's long dark hair spread out over the white sheet and his heart filled to bursting as Murata cupped his face and surged up, filling him with exquisite ecstasy.

I love you.

His eyes opened, and he was alone in his bed, with a sticky mess in his pants and he wept.

It wasn't a big reception.

Clearly Günter had arranged it so that it was an event where the minimum amount of people was required to witness the formal dissolution of his betrothal to the king. Wolfram was grateful for that, and of course, the Great Sage was in attendance. His presence would have been noted by the more astute courtiers present. The occasion itself didn't merit his being there, even if the Sage was in the habit of even attending many of the more important events.

So there was an air of expectation, and along with the gossip from the public display of rejecting the Maou, Wolfram was sure that more than a few had guessed what would take place.

The other clue was that there was a sizeable space around where he stood, with only Elizabeth as company. He was never that popular but he had at least some courtiers wanting to exchange small talk with him, or pestering him for some favour or the ear of the king. Looks like he was considered toxic now. That suited Wolfram well enough.

His men had been briefed and would leave tomorrow morning. He hoped much of Yuuri's pain would leave with him.

Murata, Günter and Gwendal were talking quietly up near the royal dais, and Wolfram downed another glass of white wine. Drinking enough to make things easier for what he had to face, but not too much that he wasn't in control. He'd been drinking at formal events since his twenties and knew his limits well.

"I see that some of the major lords got an invitation," Elizabeth noted with distaste, looking over at Lord von Radford.

Wolfram shrugged. "Of course. I'm sure you have worked out why they are here."

Elizabeth gave him a sad look. "Oh, Wolf. When you said you were going to sever your betrothal with the king earlier, I didn't think you were truly serious. I cannot believe it has come to this."

He shrugged; he was tired of not being able to explain, but there was nothing that could be done.

"It is what it is. Just as long as you fulfil your promise, I will be well enough. It's him I'm worried about. The vultures will be on to him as soon as I leave and he's gone through so much, already."

Elizabeth was one of the few women at court that Yuuri knew – one he saw as a friend and whose company he'd be grateful for. Of course, it would create its own gossip, but Elizabeth was far better than he at navigating court intrigue, and she had a thick skin.

Besides, it would be better in the end. 'Yuuri marries Elizabeth and both of them were happy together.' was written on his paper.

"You know what people will say," Elizabeth said softly.

Wolfram gave her an apologetic look. "Would that upset you?"

"No." Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "He's a sweet boy and my family will be ecstatic. Can you imagine? A possible romantic association with the Maou. My father will be over the moon. And I know enough to make sure we keep chaperones around. But you, how will you feel?" She looked at him intently.

"It's not my concern."

Elizabeth studied him for a moment. "I guess it is true. I wasn't sure. You don't love him."

"I do," he disagreed. "But only as a friend. I'm sure you'll come to love him too." He said it in a way that implied friendship, but he meant it differently.

He looked up at the dais. Yuuri was definitely late, and Murata had disappeared. Only Günter and Gwendal were there, and Gwendal lips were pursed unhappily.

He swigged another mouthful of wine. What if Yuuri refused to end it? The Maou had, but…Yuuri might not have agreed. What then? There was nothing he could do himself in that situation. He'd have to petition for the Great Sage's direct involvement, and considering all that had happened, he couldn't bear to make it any more of a public disaster than it already was.

Just as his mind started to roll through that horrible scenario, the guards made their announcement and Yuuri entered, wearing his crown and robe, and shadowed by Conrad.

When Yuuri spotted him, he walked over to him directly, without the usual fanfare or proclamation and halted in front of him. The room fell silent.

Yuuri's face was pinched, unhappy. He didn't say anything but pulled Wolfram in roughly and took him in a brutal kiss. His glass fell onto the carpet with a dull thud (thankfully not breaking which would have been the end of Wolfram. A broken wine glass would be a declaration of hostilities against the king.) Wolfram let him as Yuuri's tongue pushed into his mouth, one arm around his waist, and the other in his hair. He didn't resist, nor did he reciprocate, and just as suddenly, Yuuri ended the kiss. Wolfram tried to pull away, reeling, but Yuuri wasn't finished, his arm still around him, keeping him in place. Yuuri leaned in closely and said with bitter unhappiness – "I had to make it count, Wolf." – before letting him go and walking up to the dais without looking back. Conrad gave Wolfram a brief sad look before following him.

Wolfram touched his lips, somewhat dazed. There had been the taste of alcohol from Yuuri, a hard spirit, nothing like his wine. He had never known Yuuri to drink anything but wine and only at public functions.

Wolfram barely registered the whispers from the others there, or the clear announcement from Günter that the betrothal had dissolved.

Ignoring Elizabeth sympathetic look, he turned and headed towards the exit, head held high. He didn't need to remain for the rest of the reception; all those responsibilities were void, gone along with his engagement to the king. As he walked out, he saw Murata next to the door and for a moment their eyes locked. Murata's face didn't change, but his eyes were of sadness and empathy and underlying affection.

Wolfram wanted nothing more than to go to him and be held.

Instead, he nodded acknowledgment and swept by without pause.

He went back to his room to pack. No one followed him.

Wolfram had packed the last of his supplies when he heard a knock on the door.

He walked over and opened it, his mouth opening to berate anyone for bothering him at this hour, but his words dying when he saw who was at his door.

He didn't expect Yuuri. He let him in, and Yuuri walked in slowly giving him a broken half-smile and then blanching slightly and clutching his head. Thinking of the hard liquor he had tasted on Yuuri's tongue, Wolfram wasn't surprised.

Then realisation struck. Yuuri was in his bedchambers in the middle of the night. Even with a companion such as Conrad, it would look bad, and Yuuri was alone.

Did anyone know he was here? After breaking up with Wolfram so publically, it would cause further scandal. And yes, Wolfram would be lying if he didn't think about how that would impact on his reputation, and on things…on things he hoped for in the future.

But he could not turn Yuuri away. But that was the point wasn't it? He had refused Yuuri, in the most fundamental way.

"I went through the…" Yuuri made a whirling gesture. "The wavy hallway and I think Conrad is following me." Wolfram sighed in relief. The back entrance, so with luck no one saw him enter Wolfram's room. He was positive that Conrad was standing outside, or close by.

"Yuuri?"

"I just wanted to talk to you. I know you're leaving tomorrow so this is the last chance."

Yuuri plopped down heavily on the sofa and Wolfram sat down next to him.

"You should rest, Yuuri, you've had a stressful day." And that was also his fault.

Yuuri gave him a wobbly smile. "I drunk way too much, but Anissina had me use one of her inventions, 'Mr Instant Sobriety', but it doesn't leave out the hangover. That's what I'm suffering now." Yuuri paused and covered his eyes for a moment. "Except I deserve it for how I treated you at the reception. I was hurting, Wolf. That's my only excuse and it's not a good one. I'm very sorry."

"Yuuri I underst-"

"The Maou has accepted it," Yuuri said interrupting anything Wolfram was to say. "But I…I find it hard still. It hurts…and he won't explain why, not in a way that I can understand. Or maybe I'm not trying enough to understand. I know you don't love me." Yuuri croaked those last words out. "I want to know why."

"Yuuri…." Wolfram didn't know what to say. Nothing would make it better.

"No, I see that look on your face, the one where you'll just talk around things. I deserve the truth, Wolf."

Could he tell Yuuri the truth? Would that be fair? Considering all the pain that Yuuri had gone through, to put this on him as well…and how would he react about his feelings for Murata?

He was sure it would only hurt Yuuri further.

"Can I tell you later, in a few years?" Please.

"Was it something I did, Wolf? Was it because I killed all those men? The Maou said I would have to pay a price. I thought he meant...the guilt. Not this."

"No…no. It wasn't that. I don't care; they were the enemy. It wasn't anything you did." At least not on purpose or anything that Wolfram could remember, and if there was, it didn't matter because this Yuuri wasn't at fault. It was funny that he could recognise that, and yet he couldn't love Yuuri as he had. It made so little sense.

"But you don't love me, and I know you loved me before the battle. You did? Didn't you? It wasn't a lie," Yuuri pleaded.

"It wasn't a lie. I loved you." His voice came out flat but sincere.

Yuuri leaned against the back of the couch and gazed at him miserably.

"That's what I don't understand, Wolf, how can you stop loving me so quickly? Practically in one day?"

"There is a reason…, I can't explain it now, Yuuri. It wasn't just 'one day' for me."

Yuuri looked at him with scepticism, but then sighed. "But you will explain one day?"

He looked at Yuuri, eyes pleading. "I swear to you."

Yuuri crawled over until he was next to him, and put his arms around him.

"I miss you in my bed. Conrad told me why it was better…but I miss you." Wolfram nodded, he knew exactly how Yuuri felt and he felt awful that he was the source of Yuuri's pain, to someone who he still, even now, considered his closest friend.

He hadn't been a very good friend, hurting Yuuri when he needed him the most.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry to do this to you. I'm sorry to leave Greta. I just..." He trailed off again sadly; he didn't want to hurt Yuuri again, reminding him again of why. I just can't be in love you.

Yuuri leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, a kind of forgiveness that Wolfram did not earn or deserve. A strong sense of déjà-vu welled up and he shivered. This had happened before, he was sure of it. Leaning his forehead against Wolfram's, Yuuri said in a sad whisper, "I'm going to miss you so much. I still love you. The Maou still loves you." Yuuri swallowed and Wolfram pulled Yuuri into his arms and the young king leaned his head on his shoulder. So young. After a few beats, he spoke again into Wolfram's ear, voice sure if a little tremulous. "But if he is strong enough to let you go, I can be too. What's important is that you're alive and well. When I found you on the field, I knew I couldn't carry on without you. I had to save you, Wolf. So I can bear letting you go, as long as you are alive, for Greta' sake, and for me. And...and, I hope, we'll be friends?"

If it was a choice, Wolfram would have gladly have chosen to love Yuuri in that moment.

But it had never been a choice. It just was.

"You are a great king, and you have so many people who love and support you. Listen to them but try to stay true to what is right. I know you can...and…I'll always be your friend, Yuuri," Wolfram whispered.

They clung to each other miserably for a while. Wolfram didn't know about Yuuri, but he had no more words to say, nothing that wouldn't cause more sadness.

It was how Conrad found them much later, letting himself in without notice. Under any other circumstances Wolfram would have been annoyed at such rudeness.

Conrad gave Wolfram a bleak look, rightly so. "You should go," he said gently to Yuuri. Yuuri pulled away and nodded, getting up. The last image he had of Yuuri was one long heartbreaking look before Conrad practically pushed him from the room.

Wolfram was not to know then – and perhaps considering how unhappy and guilty he felt at the time, it was a small mercy – but he wouldn't talk to Yuuri again for years. Not really. And it would be even longer than that before people would see them as friends.

But that was the future, the one that Wolfram was truly destined to trod. For now, he sat there on the sofa all alone and made plans for his departure.

In the pre-dawn hours the sky was light, promising a clear hot day. His men were going over their equipment. Out of the original forty of his squad, only eighteen remained. A few had minor injuries but were well enough to take the nine day journey to the Bielefeld Estate. Four of his men were still under Gisela's care. Wolfram's uncle would send men to escort them back when they were better.

Whilst Wagner cross-checked the supplies, he walked over to the farewell party. There were friends of those men in his squad, mostly other soldiers, and some sweethearts who were to be left behind. There was his family and an old friend.

Gwendal, Greta, his mother, and Elizabeth. Of course Yuuri wasn't anywhere in sight and he didn't expect Conrad's presence.

Greta hugged him tightly. "I'll come for your ball, and we'll spend summer in Voltaire afterwards," he promised her.

She nodded and there were tears in her eyes.

"I wish you could stay," she whispered into his ears. He gave Greta a kiss on her brow, she was getting so tall. "Take care of your father, dearest. Write to me." Greta rubbed her eyes and nodded.

Gwendal looked sombre. "Send regards to your uncle."

"I will, brother. I hope to be back soon. I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble."

Gwendal nodded and said gruffly, "Matters have ended tolerably." Gwendal straightened his green jacket stiffly and added curtly, "Be careful on the road."

Wolfram turned to Elizabeth and gave her a hug. "You better write and tell me what is happening. Try to make sure he has some fun." He didn't want Conrad or Murata to be the only ones responsible for Yuuri's emotional state. The more trusted friends he had around him, the better.

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes shining.

Then he was enveloped in a fierce hug by his mother. "Oh Wolfy…my baby."

"Mother." His voice was muffled as he was pushed up against his mother's bosom.

"Don't worry, Wolfy, there will be so many men who'll fall for you, even in that backward province." His mother's voice lowered, but still loud enough for those close by to hear. "I think Sir Wagner has a crush on you and he is a fine young man, very handsome."

In the background, he heard someone drop something that clanked, and he heard a yelp. He refused to speculate who that was.

"Mother," he protested, but he only felt mildly annoyed. He knew that this was his mother's way of making him feel better.

"I know...Wolfy, but you're still so young and you can be so serious, now more than ever. Not all love is forever, but it doesn't mean that it is any less."

He pulled back and his mother gave him an understanding smile.

Wagner came up beside him, his face a little red. "Sir, the men are ready."

Wolfram took one long look at the castle and then nodded to himself. "Time to go."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Elizabeth added hastily. "Yozak gave this to me last night; he asked that you deliver it to the Great Sage, in person." She handed him an envelope.

"Oh…of course." Yozak was definitely too insolent.

They were taking the road past the temple so it wouldn't take much time to deliver it.

He didn't think he'd see Murata before he left. He looked up over in the direction of the temple, the top could barely be seen over the castle walls on the slope above them.

It wouldn't take long to deliver it.

Wolfram could never remember ever being in the Great Sage's private apartments before, but it felt familiar. It felt like comfort, like safety…it felt like home. If he wasn't sure about his decision, based on some scratchy lead marking on a piece of paper or how he'd felt every time he laid eyes on the Sage, he was absolutely sure now.

He knew this place – it was home.

The Great Sage, Murata, looked suspiciously unsurprised to see him. He dropped Yozak's envelope that he had given to Murata on a cluttered desk without even a glance.

"So you're going off to Bielefeld."

Wolfram shrugged, sitting down on a couch as Murata gestured him too.

"Yes, as I planned earlier. It is much easier this way. But I'll try to visit at least once a year and… in five years or so, I'll return. I'll be back in six months for Greta's ball and then she'll spend the summer with me at Voltaire. Hopefully Gwendal can visit."

Murata nodded. "That sounds like a wise plan. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that things turned out this way."

Wolfram shrugged. "It was my choice. I knew the consequences."

Murata look unconvinced.

"I can see the toll in your eyes. The battle and now this. It's forced you grow up too fast and it's been unfair for you and those around you. I've watched how hard this has been for you. You didn't choose this." Murata's eyes flashed dark in fury.

Wolfram shook his head. Though he was glad for Murata's feelings, it was useless. He had to move on. He had to distance himself from the king, if only for a while.

"I thought about that, I was angry at first, furious, but being angry at a god is like being angry at a storm for its destruction. It's useless."

It was easiest to think that way. There were things out of his control. He sat back into the couch and gave Murata a resigned smile.

"This storm won't hurt you again." Murata's voice was hard and clipped and he could believe it.

"Thank you," he said. He was filled with relief, despite what he had said, just because he had chosen to move on with his life didn't mean he wasn't fearful of the same thing happening again.

Neither of them mentioned Yuuri, but it was a ghost that neither of them could ignore.

After a few moments, Murata said with a tentative smile, "I hope you will write. I would value your correspondence."

"I will write you, though I can't say it will be interesting. Border patrol and training rarely is."

Murata's smile widened.

"I'm sure you can think of other things to write me about." Murata's voice was playful, and looking relaxed as he was, unguarded, he was strikingly attractive.

"I'm sure I will," Wolfram responded, lowering his eyes. "I should go now; the men are waiting."

He stood up with Murata and they walked over to the door.

A vivid mental image came to him of a studio full of paintings and a kiss on his earlobe.

"Do you paint?" he asked abruptly.

Murata pushed his glasses up and gave him a curious look. "I do…as a hobby. I know you like to paint, Shibuya showed me the one you did…with the lemon. It was interesting, I like the way you paint. Maybe someday I can show you my studio."

He would like that. Wolfram closed his eyes and breathed in. Everything felt so familiar, even the smell. And when he opened them, seeing Murata so close, he made a decision.

Wolfram leaned in and kissed Murata on the lips, not pushing. At first there was no reaction and he panicked. Even with all the playful talk, he was conceited to expect anything and he'd practically thrown himself on the Great Sage without warning. He pulled away hastily only to have Murata put one arm around his waist and another at his nape to keep him in place, and then they were truly kissing, open mouthed with Murata's tongue in his and their bodies pressed up against each other. Relaxing into the kiss and the sensations of touch, he curled his arms around Murata's shoulders and let himself enjoy it. He didn't know how long that went on, time lost meaning. All that mattered was they were together.

But eventually, Murata pulled away reluctantly. Breathing heavily he placed his hands flat on Wolfram's chest, as if to keep him at a distance. "I shouldn't keep you waiting." Murata's face was flushed, there was as wildness in his eyes that was so different from his usual restrained manner. He looked so young and touchable.

Putting his hand around one wrist, Wolfram brought it up to his lips for a brief kiss and then let it go.

"I'm happy to wait...for this." And then Wolfram finished in a rush, hope buoyed by the kiss, "I'll wait for you. I'll wait forever."

Murata exhaled and leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and said quietly "Not forever, I hope."

He pulled out the crumpled paper from his jacket and held it between them, his hand trembling a little.

"This is what I wrote down of that vision. If you want I can tell you..."

Murata shook his head.

"You're right," Wolfram agreed. "What's important is the life we lead now." Unfolding the paper, he looked at the words one last time and then set it alight in his hand. Keeping careful direction and control of the flame, he extinguished it so all that remained was the bottom of the page, one side hardly singed at all. "This, though, is what I hope."

He offered it to Murata who took it with care.

"You don't have to read it."

Murata folded it carefully and placed it within his jacket, the mirror of where Wolfram had it on his person.

"This feeling...you make me want to do something dangerously irresponsible and against all that common sense tells me. I'm not that wise…. If only..." Murata shook his head in mild exasperation and then patted where he had placed Wolfram list, and then closed his eyes and leaned forward in a bow, a little apologetically like he'd seen Yuuri do. "I shouldn't be raising your hopes. Anything can happen, but I'll keep it for if you return, and you can read it to me then." Murata's accent had become more evident as he said this, but still cultured in high mazoku. An odd blend. Wolfram wanted to know why, what was he feeling? Wolfram wanted to know everything he could about Murata.

"Don't worry. I'll hope enough for both of us." Again taking Murata's hand, he brushed his lips along the knuckles in the measured deliberate manner of courting and Murata quirked one amused eyebrow, but didn't make an objection.

"Farewell, Murata Ken. I long for the day where I can get to know you."

He would pin his heart on that wish and be damned if he was disappointed.

Murata face broke out in a devastatingly sweet and poignant smile, with just a shade of sorrow.

"Farewell, dearest Wolfram. So do I."

End

Note: A scene in this chapter was inspired by toshimalfoy from her lovely story 'Whispers from the Rye'

Other KKM stories can be found off-site with links from my profile!