Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lately, I’ve been having this dream.

It starts off nice enough– I’m alone, walking along a lake. The water is calm and there are birds singing from the tops of the trees. I can smell exactly how fresh the world around me is. Everything feels normal, feels safe, right?

Suddenly, I stumble. The birds go quiet. My body is knocked off balance and I fall (for no real reason) into the lake. If I’m being honest, it’s a lot like how I’m pulled into the other world when I’m awake. 

However, instead of letting the swirls of blue and green suck me into the bottom toward a different reality, I feel myself actively struggling against it. A small voice tells me if I let myself get dragged down this time, nothing will be the same again. I don’t know what it even means by that, but there’s a primal fear that drives me to swim toward the surface. Every bit of my muscles strain to fight against the whirlpool as I flail my legs wildly behind me.

Oxygen quickly becomes a necessity as I continue to uselessly fight my way upward. I close my eyes– the struggling has felt like an eternity. I think that, man, I am so tired of fighting. I want to let myself be pulled down–

–but that voice holds me hostage. Nothing will be the same again. Nothing will be the same.

Nothing.

This is when I wake up, gasping for air and clutching my chest.

Nothing will be the same again.

Chapter Text

“Come home, Yuuri, everyone is waiting for you.”

I’m waiting for you.

Relief hit the 27th Demon King almost five hours after stepping onto the rescue ship sent from Shin Makoku to the holy land of Seisakoku. When it did come to him, it was after a pair of soldiers had escorted him to a nondescript cabin somewhere near the bottom deck of the ship. The room was nothing fancy, but that was the farthest thing in the world Yuuri could even care about. There were two twin beds that flanked either side of the cramped quarters and a small oval window that let in some of the natural orange light from the sunset outside. When the soldiers left and the door closed behind him, Yuuri felt his body nearly melt into one of the stiff single beds as he finally came to terms that he was safe. Hell, more than safe, he was alive . The Maou let out a breath that he felt like he had been holding for ages, before letting his face fall unceremoniously into his hands.

To put it bluntly, Yuuri felt like this expedition had taken ten years off of his life. As of a matter of fact, today felt like it had claimed a few years just in and of itself. After dealing with Yelshi’s army of the dead and parting ways with Saralegui and Conrad (all seemingly within hours of each other), Yuuri thought the worst was behind him. However, even with the promise of the rescue ship, there came a host of other new problems that presented themselves almost immediately. First and foremost, Yozak was the biggest stressor. While physically they had been able to save him, he was still literally and figuratively a corpse of a human. It took about ten soldiers (under the orders of Sergeant Gisela) to safely restrain and carry the orange-haired swordsman into a secure room aboard the ship; however, as they were working on transporting Yozak, Yuuri had the misfortune of letting his gaze linger a little too long on the zombified Gurrier. As he helplessly stared at his friend, the double-black king felt his breath stop short and the blood in his body freeze.

He had tried to remember what Conrad had said to him – it’s not your fault. While he understood the logic behind the words the Lion of Luttenburg had offered him, it was hard to believe in them, especially when he looked at Yozak’s dead eyes and bent legs that dragged heavily along the ship’s deck.

If Yozak was stressor number one, Wolfram was stressor number two. The blonde-haired mazoku insisted he was fine, but Yuuri knew he had been wandering around the desert with a nasty stomach wound that he himself had caused. Gisela and the small medical team were doing their best to treat everyone who had returned from the lands of Seisakoku, but he had noticed Wolfram avoiding them so that others, like Murata, would receive proper care first. He knew his fiancé was a proud person, but it worried him to no end that Wolfram chose now, of all times, to be such a selfless soldier.

Speaking of Murata, that was Yuuri’s third problem. The double-black sage himself had appeared out of nowhere and been taken hostage by Yelshi and his undead followers. The King of Seisakoku had badly bruised and beaten the boy while in his care; even though Yuuri understood his friend had lived many lives, he knew Murata’s current incarnation was not used to such roughness. The recklessness and uncertainty that had come with Murata’s sudden appearance had eaten away at Yuuri’s nerves more than he had anticipated.

Yuuri let his head sink further into his hands as he reflected on everything. “I can’t believe we’re alive… all of us,” he breathed, talking aloud to the emptiness of the room. The pressure of his face on his palms reminded him of his own wound he had sustained against his fiancé, who at the time he had believed to be a stranger out for his own life. Even though Adalbert’s houjutsu had physically healed most of it, a phantom pain of both guilt and regret distinctly lingered behind. Yuuri closed his eyes tightly and tried to push out the thoughts of his deadly entanglement with Wolfram aside.

Something started to bubble up beneath a surface suppressed inside of the double-black king. It was an acerbic and acidic blackness, a snakelike thing dripping with guilt-tipped venom, threatening to take a hold of Yuuri’s insides and twist them into grotesque knots. This feeling–

Before he could pinpoint what it was, the door opened behind the black-haired boy, effectively jolting him out of his thoughts. He straightened up and whipped around to see who had entered, but in his head he had already known the answer.

“W-Wolf!”

The blonde mazoku slipped into the room, closing the door gently behind him. Yuuri noticed that Wolfram had managed to acquire his preferred nightwear attire from the crew, although instead of it being pink and ruffly, a simple cream-colored nightgown hugged his body. The only decoration on it was a small green lace bow that matched the color of his eyes. The bow was tastefully and simplistically sewn in the middle of the neckline. Yuuri also took note of the fact that Wolfram had managed to find and take a bath, judging by the dampness of parts of his fair hair and the floral scent that had languidly followed him into the room when he entered. So many things had been happening since they had arrived on the ship that Yuuri had not even considered he would finally be able to take a bath– and boy, did Yuuri enjoy his baths.

The Maou voiced his thoughts out loud, offering a small smile to Wolfram. “I didn’t even think to take a bath - I’m super jealous.”

Wolfram smiled back and took a seat opposite of the black-haired king on the other single bed. “There’s still time.”

“No, I think I’m too tired, honestly,” Yuuri said, shaking his head lightly. “Tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“Suit yourself,” the blonde said with a shrug. Looking straight at Yuuri, Wolfram asked in a more serious tone, “How are you feeling?”

“Me? I-I think I’m good. Glad to be going home… I… yeah…” Yuuri trailed off, not too sure how to honestly answer the mazoku’s question. “Just tired, really– wait, forget about me! What about you?” The black-haired king pointed accusingly at the blonde’s stomach.

“Tired is an understatement,” Wolfram agreed, before making a waving motion with his hand as Yuuri pointed at him. “And I’m fine, I already told you. I’m a lot stronger than you think I am.”

“Is that so?” Maybe Yuuri had misread the earlier situation– what he had mistaken as selflessness was (most likely) just the blonde’s stubbornness.

“Anyways,” Wolfram continued the conversation, pushing a wet piece of hair the color of honey out of his face. “I’m glad we’re going home with everyone. Honestly, so many things could have turned out worse, but… I’m just glad I found you…” Abruptly, he reached forward to grab the Maou’s bandaged hand. Wolfram looked down at it, fair lashes cast over eyes that were misted over with a sudden sadness. “...I’m sorry. I know I have said it a hundred times, and I will say it a hundred times more, but still… I’m sorry.”

Yuuri squeezed Wolfram’s hand lightly in his and smiled at the blonde boy. “For which part, specifically?” He teased, nudging Wolfram a little as he did so.

However, his teasing was met with complete seriousness. Oops, seems like that didn’t work.

Wolfram began to ramble off the mental list in his head that was eating away at him. “Wounding you. Trying to kill you. Tricking you. Not letting you get close. Punching you. Letting you worry…” The full-blooded mazoku bit his lip, the shame unavoidably washing over him. He tried to pull his hand away from Yuuri, but the black-haired king wouldn’t let him. Instead, Yuuri used his other free hand to clasp around the other side of Wolfram’s.

“...Hey, look at me,” Yuuri said softly. “Then I also need to apologize for all of those same things a hundred times, too… well, except for the punching. You really got me good there!” He found himself chuckling a bit as he said that, but internally winced as he remembered. Geez, even though he looked like a cherub, Wolfram could really pack a punch.

Hesitantly, Wolfram let his lake-green eyes meet the Maou’s black ones. “Your eyes… I’m glad they’re back.”

A coldness rushed over Yuuri’s body. He could feel the corrosive feeling he had been trying to subdue stir somewhere inside him.

“M… Me too.”

Yuuri wanted to share with Wolfram exactly how much he meant that, and how he had been so enthralled on recovering his eyesight. He wanted to tell him about the exact moment from when he could first see the boy’s angelic beauty again. He wanted to share just how relieved and ecstatic he was to see that beautiful face look at him again, how he could again experience the deep green of his eyes… however, Yuuri knew deep in his heart that moment had seemed to pass. When he opened his mouth, none of those thoughts felt like they could pass through his lips. Instead, only silence. A few days ago, that feeling was the most important thing in the world to him, but now… why was that? What had made him want to say so badly? Why couldn’t he bring himself to say it now?

As Yuuri found himself stuck in his thoughts, Wolfram gently slid his hand free from Yuuri’s grasp. “Come on, you should get ready for bed… wimp.” He added that last part playfully, lightly punching Yuuri’s stronger arm.

“Hey, I thought you felt bad about punching me!” Yuuri grinned, appreciating the familiarity and how it reminded him of normal life– something that he feared would never return. “But you’re right. I’m exhausted– let’s sleep.”

Chapter Text

In the depths of Yuuri’s mind, he truly believed that once his head hit the pillow, he would fall into the deepest sleep of his life.

He thought that if he could sleep, surely, he could dismiss the morbid things that had begun to haunt him.

He believed he could forget the image of Alazon’s mummified and rotted flesh that Yelshi clung onto.

He believed he could forget the sickening crunch of Yozak’s bones as he disappeared behind that wall.

He believed he could forget the pungent smell of soil against Saralegui’s skin as Yuuri pathetically begged for his life in absolute darkness.

He was even foolish enough to believe he could forget the raw fear that took hold of him when he realized he had lost his vision. The fear that resided when Yuuri opened his eyes, despite knowing what was in front of him, that he was unable to form those clear shapes that his brain logically knew were there. The same fear that only spread when he thought about being unable to see his daughter blossom into adulthood, unable to again be able to see a homerun at a baseball stadium, unable to again see the silver flecks in his godfather’s brown eyes, unable again to see the faces of his mom, dad, Shouri, Murata, everyone… especially unable to again see the two deep pools of emerald that belonged to the face of his best friend.

The 27th Demon King laid there in the darkness and foolishly tried to push back all of those moments, which only doubled back in force as he fought against remembering them. The corrosive darkness flooded into his body, an internal infection that spread like unforgiving wildfire. The fear pinned his body to the bed, rendering the Maou paralyzed. Yuuri wanted to scream, to make any sort of sound, but couldn’t. The more he became aware of how trapped he had become, the quicker it caused his heart rate to increase. His heart began to wildly pound against his chest, thrumming desperately within him, like a moth’s wings in the hands of a child. The only word that raced through his head was fuck, fuck, fuck –

From somewhere in the distance, Yuuri thought he heard his name being called. It sounded like he was underwater, the words muffled and unclear. However, the only thing Yuuri could really focus on was trying to make sure his heart did not rip out of his chest. Logically, he told himself to try and steady his breathing, but all he could focus on was the feeling of a chaotic black static surrounding him.

As he tried not to drown in his own thoughts, the angelic face he thought he’d never see again leaned over and looked down on him. Yuuri saw Wolfram’s lips move, but only muted noises came out of that pretty mouth. The double-black king saw Wolfram’s beautiful face scrunch in worry and peripherally watched as he laid his golden head gently atop of Yuuri’s racing heart.

Forever, Yuuri briefly thought, terrified. I’m going to be stuck like this forever.

Nothing will be the same again.

Even though Yuuri’s body was still trapped by the unseeable force, he numbly felt a hand twine in his–

–and while it felt like an eternity, something finally broke through the paralysis. Yuuri became vaguely aware of the weight on his chest, and the feeling of the blonde’s hand in his grew more apparent, more warm. Slowly, slowly, the fear swirling inside the Maou had started to ebb away,  becoming replaced with something lighter, more tranquil– with the existence of Wolfram’s presence.

Gradually, Yuuri’s breathing returned to its normal pace. His body and muscles became his again, and the feeling of Wolfram’s hand and head on him became as clear and warm as a summer’s day.

The double-black demon king opened his mouth to say something but no words came out. This time, the lack of sound wasn’t because of paralysis. Instead, he felt hot tears prick in the corners of his eyes from the fear and embarrassment of whatever had just happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Without thinking, he gripped Wolfram’s hand tighter and used his other arm to rest on the blonde’s shoulder to pull him closer to his chest. Again, he wanted to scream.

“Yuuri?” Wolfram asked quietly against his chest. “...Are you okay?”

“I…” His voice caught in his throat and the tears that had formed in his eyes became precarious.

“...you know you can cry, Yuuri. It’s okay.”

That was all it took. Yuuri allowed himself to let out the sob he had been holding back, the mental toil of the past few weeks pouring out of him relentlessly. “ Fuck !”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Wolfram repeated comfortingly, his thumb gently caressing the Maou’s hand.

Between the burning tears, Yuuri managed to blurt out, “W-what the fuck just happened? I’ve… I’ve never…”

“A panic attack,” Wolfram finished for him, rather matter-of-factly.

Yuuri heard Wolfram’s words– at first, he was both alarmed and hesitant, but slowly and silently took it in. He had heard about those, and after thinking about what he had just experienced, the connections aligned into a defeated acceptance. In the wake of his thoughts, he laid like that next to his best friend, holding him tightly and trying to steady his own breathing.

“How… how did you know?” Yuuri asked once he had calmed down more, drawing his free arm away and releasing the blonde mazoku from his one-armed hug. The Maou wiped away the remnant tears that had stained his cheeks, and Wolfram sat more upright to look down at the black-haired boy. He removed his hand from Yuuri’s and folded his arms across the demon king’s chest. Something in Yuuri felt disappointed that the blonde’s hand was gone from his own.

“Mother used to have them… they became especially frequent during the war.” Eh, really!? Even the Sexy Demon Queen?! While it was surprising, it again made sense. Yuuri could not imagine what Cheri emotionally went through while the lives of two of her three sons were in constant jeopardy. “When Mother would get them, I would go to her and hold her. She always said it helped… maybe it did, maybe it didn’t, but it’s all I could do for her then. I’m sorry it’s all I could do for you now.”

“Don’t apologize,” Yuuri added quickly. “It did help. I promise, really.” Wolfram glanced down at the black-haired boy. “I… that’s never happened. At least not like that. Sometimes before a baseball game, I’d get super nervous and once or twice scared, but… not like that. Nothing like that.” Yuuri felt himself grip the stiff bed sheets beneath him. In a smaller voice, he confessed, “That was terrifying, honestly. I hate losing control, but that was way different than going into Maou mode.”

Wolfram hesitantly asked, “Do you know why it happened?”

Yuuri frowned. He looked like he was going to say something but stopped himself.

“Sorry, Yuuri, forget I asked that. I’m just glad you’re feeling better,” Wolfram quickly said, beginning to pull himself up out of the Maou’s bed.

“Hey, wait! Wolf, uhm… can you stay here again… with me?”

Wolfram cocked an eyebrow. “Like the other night?” He remembered back to a broken and blinded Yuuri asking him to sleep in his bed, something that had quite literally never happened. Wolfram could not believe it was happening for a second time, especially so soon. Yuuri nodded, looking uncharacteristically shy. The answer was obvious. “Of course.”

The demon king shifted over in the single bed and pulled the thin blankets back for his best friend to join him. Wolfram carefully climbed in next to Yuuri, trying to give the black-haired boy as much room and space in the small bed as possible. Once the blonde mazoku was settled, Yuuri couldn’t help but stare into those lake-like eyes laying next to him. He must have been staring too long, because Wolfram muttered, “What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?”

“Hm? No, no… I was just thinking: what about you, Wolf? Are you sure you are okay?”

“This again? I already told you–”

“Listen, you made me feel better just now and… Can I help you feel better?” Wolfram shifted uncomfortably and Yuuri could have sworn he saw the blonde’s cheek flush in the room’s darkness. Yuuri clarified, “With, you know, your stomach. You didn’t let me help you before because we were on shinzoku land. I figure it should be fine to use my maryoku now, right?”

Wolfram didn’t answer right away and Yuuri’s face adopted an almost pleading look. Unfortunately, Wolfram’s stubbornness was no match for a begging Yuuri.

“...Will this help you sleep?”

The Maou smiled at his friend. “I think so.”

The blonde pretended to consider it for another moment. With an exasperated huff, he mumbled a “do as you please” and flipped over in the bed to have his back facing Yuuri. The mazoku’s fair hair spilled onto the pillow, leaving the back of his neck exposed. The area where his skin met his hair was white and smooth, an undisturbed patch of snow. Yuuri scooched closer to the other boy, albeit awkwardly. He tried to give Wolfram a respectable amount of space, but he also needed to be close enough to the other to heal him. Now, he felt so close that he was sure Wolfram could feel the warmth of his breath, his lips inches away from the exposed skin he couldn’t look away from. The scent of Wolfram’s floral shampoo caught Yuuri’s attention again, and something warm and hot within him stirred… but this, this was not like the unwelcome feelings from before.

Focus, Shibuya , he scolded himself, trying to shake any more unfamiliar thoughts out of his tired brain. Yuuri reached out and at first placed his hands on the small of Wolfram’s back, directly behind where the wound was on the blonde’s stomach. Then, Yuuri second guessed himself– would this be effective, or…? Carefully, Yuuri let his right hand move from Wolfram’s back and around to his stomach. As he did this, he could feel Wolfram’s body stiffen under his hand.

“You okay?”

“...yes.”

Yuuri then gingerly pressed his hand on Wolfram’s stomach, keeping his fingers splayed out across the top of the boy’s bandaged midsection. Even though his hand was over the blonde’s cream-colored nightgown, he could feel the taut muscles underneath. Yuuri couldn’t help but both admire and envy his friend’s physique, but he supposed that was what a soldier’s body should feel like. 

With his last bit of focus, the demon king concentrated on moving his energy from within him to the tips of his fingers; gradually, he felt his energy pulsate and glide through his core to his digits to Wolfram’s injury. Yuuri closed his eyes and continued to follow the steady flow of energy in his mind, convinced that if he could at least heal his fiancé, it would make up for the other unforgivable things that continued to creep in the corners of his thoughts.

He pulled Wolfram closer to him and unthinkingly placed his forehead on the back of the blonde’s neck. Yuuri inhaled deeply, taking in more of Wolfram’s welcoming scent. The initial feeling of awkwardness that had reserved itself in the demon king’s mind had given way to a new and curious acceptance. His breathing became slow, steady, serene, the turmoil in his mind bowing to the tranquility of the moment between them.

Around them, the night continued in its expansive darkness, save the dim moonlight spilling in from the oval window of the room. The ship rocked endlessly on, the sea water sloshing and splashing up against the wooden body of the rescue vessel. Before Yuuri knew it, a deep sleep finally visited him– an old friend that was more than welcomed into the vestiges of his weary mind.

Wolfram laid frozen in the bed, listening to the breathing that had steadied from his fiancé. When Wolfram was sure that sleep had taken Yuuri, he let out a held breath. He could feel the warmth that came from the flush in his cheeks, the tip of his ears, and even underneath the bottom of his nightgown.

W-what is happening? Wolfram thought to himself, in a somewhat state of shock at the closeness between him and the demon king. No, it was not the closeness, but more so the promise of intimacy that was felt by the blonde that made him both pale and burn at the same time. Sure, they had slept together the other night in a similar manner, but both boys had been mindful and kept to their respective sides of the bed. They had chatted and enjoyed the comfort that the other gave, but Wolfram did not read into it. But this… Wolfram was in disbelief that part of his fantasized imaginations had entered into his own reality. Yuuri had never been admittedly a touchy-feely person with anyone– well, unless it was with their daughter, Greta. In the past, it was always Wolfram that had initiated most, if not all, the physical contact between them, with Yuuri just seeming to barely tolerate it.

While the blonde wasn’t complaining, he still couldn’t shake the confusion. Yuuri shifted in his sleep, his right hand that had held Wolfram’s stomach falling from its place. As his hand moved, Wolfram felt Yuuri’s knuckles brush lightly against his semi-hard member. Despite himself, Wolfram felt it twitch in response, which only increased the fire that was everywhere within him. The embarrassment was all consuming.

This is definitely not the time for this, the voice inside his head snapped. Desperately, he tried not to think of how close Yuuri’s fingers were still to… that. Slowly, carefully, Wolfram moved Yuuri’s hand up close to his face to prevent anything else from happening. As he moved the Maou’s hand, Wolfram again took notice of the bandages wrapped around Yuuri’s calloused fingers and palm. The blonde tenderly again put his own hand on top of the black-haired king’s and closed his eyes. The fire within him cooled.

Yuuri, what exactly happened to you? Wolfram bit his lip. The regret of not being there for Yuuri when he needed it most returned to him. If only I left earlier, or if I found him faster– maybe things would be different.

Wolfram had heard bits and pieces from the Maou, Conrart, and the gallant Hazel Graves about what had happened prior to the blonde’s arrival. While there were still informational gaps, the proud mazoku knew a few things for certain. For instance, Wolfram knew that Yuuri had been trapped and manipulated by the King of Shou Shimaron in those cursed underground tunnels. He knew that stress or some other disturbing force had stolen Yuuri’s vision from him, rendering him blind for almost a week. Wolfram also knew that Yuuri had convinced himself that he was the perpetrator of Gurrier’s purported death and at length had excruciatingly agonized over it.

Wolfram knew that Yuuri had also watched him “die” before his voyage even embarked; while the Maou knew Wolfram was fine before he sailed to Seisakoku, surely that did not do Yuuri any mental favors.

The blonde inadvertently let a soft “damn” slip from his mouth. I wasn’t there for you then, but I’ll be sure to be there for you from this moment forward… I don’t care where you go, I will be there. Wolfram’s resolve intensified as the words bloomed in the forefront of his mind. He wished that their sleeping position was the other way around, and that he could instead be holding his best friend in his arms. 

I will protect you, Yuuri– forever.

I promise.

Chapter Text

On the second day of the voyage, Gwendal von Voltaire and his ships had managed to rendezvous with the original rescue ship. Gwendal’s reinforcements provided extra supplies to help them on their way back to the Great Demon Kingdom. Among the supplies given to them was one of Anissina’s newest inventions, Mr. “Let’s-Get-His-Majesty-Home-Quickly.” The device would miraculously allow the ships to significantly cut down their travel time and reach the shores of home; however, the price came with expending the majutsu of a certain white-haired mazoku that happened to also be on board. Thus, thanks to Günter, their seven day trip would now only be four.

While they knew their voyage was becoming speedier, there was an air of apprehension still aboard the ship. No one really knew what to do with Yozak Gurrier, who continued to be kept in the small medical bay under watchful supervision. Even the experienced Gisela was unsure of how to help the suffering soldier.

When Gwendal had come aboard, he himself requested to inspect the condition of the orange-haired swordsman. Yuuri insisted he join Gwendal’s visit to Gurrier, despite the protests that came from Wolfram. 

The blonde warned him that this wasn’t the best idea, but Yuuri’s persistence won out in the end. All Wolfram could do was disapprovingly tag along with them, sticking close to Yuuri’s side.

The three of them together cautiously entered Yozak’s room. Gisela was already there, hovering over the swordsman, her eyebrows knitted in concentration. Gurrier was laid out on the bed, his eyes closed and body unmoving. Gisela’s small hands were above the man’s exposed, wide chest, a green glow emanating from her fingertips. Yuuri’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to peek at Yozak’s legs; thankfully, they were covered up by a thin white sheet.

Upon their arrival, Gisela paused her healing and greeted them. She sounded exhausted.

“Hello, Your Majesty, Your Excellencies.”

Gwendal moved in closer, his blue eyes intensely studying the body in front of him.

“Make sure he continues to be kept under close observation,” he finally said to the green-haired medic. “And keep this room locked.”

Yuuri blinked and looked up at Wolfram’s older brother. “So no one gets in?”

Gwendal’s frown deepened. “No— so he doesn’t get out.”

“What?” The Maou asked, nervous at the gravity of Gwendal’s tone.

Gwendal never responded to his question, but Yuuri soon found out the answer before long.

On the second night, Yuuri only managed to sleep for a few hours. Wolfram had joined him again in bed, which initially helped the Maou drift to sleep. However, the black-haired boy woke up in the early hours of the morning, plagued by a sense of unease.

Once he realized he would be unable to fall back asleep, Yuuri had decided to get up. He got dressed and made his way back to the ship’s upper deck, planning on enjoying the sounds of the sea at sunrise and relishing in the thought that, soon, they would all be back in Shin Makoku.

When he reached the deck, he was surprised to see that someone else was up. It was hard to make out exactly who it was during the waking light of daybreak, but Yuuri could tell this shadowy person was taller and had definitive muscular shoulders. They were facing out toward the sea, toward the rising sun on the horizon.

His heart skipped a beat for a moment.

Conrad…? Yuuri stepped forward, a small bit of hope rising up. Did his godfather manage to sneak onto the ship?

As Yuuri was about to call out his name, alarmed voices cut through the morning.

“NO!”

"STOP!"

Gwendal had appeared from around a corner of the ship, a panicked Dacascos and Gisela right behind him.

Yuuri looked back at the dark figure, whose features were now more generously cast with the morning’s light.

They stepped up and onto the edge of the ship’s railing. Their orange hair blew gently in the sea breeze as they leaned dangerously closer toward the water.

“Yozak…?” Yuuri said to himself, voice quiet in disbelief.

Then Yozak Gurrier jumped off the ledge of the ship, vanishing into the churning sea.

Miraculously, in the end, everything seemed to turn out okay.

Gwendal, Gisela, and the ever-loyal Dacascos had managed to rescue and retrieve Yozak before he disappeared into the depths of the ocean for good. If they hadn’t been there, it was assured that Gurrier would have succumbed to the sea and drowned.

Gwendal explained to them all that this was an effect of the poison that had been unwittingly consumed by the orange-haired swordsman when he was in Seisakoku. As they got closer and closer to Shin Makoku, Yozak’s nature would in turn become increasingly unpredictable. His body would seek to destroy itself until it succeeded. Due to the severity of the reaction, it was now Gwendal, Günter, and Gisela that had taken charge of the zombified swordsman’s situation. While at sea, they decided it was best to put Yozak’s body into a state of suspended animation to protect himself, as well as others, until they reached the castle.

Wolfram and Yuuri were at dinner when they received the news of Yozak’s new condition.

“He’ll be safe now,” Wolfram had tried to tell Yuuri, who was still shaken by the morning’s events. His mind kept replaying Yozak jumping off the ship, over and over again. He hadn’t told Wolfram that he saw– and felt– everything that transpired.

“Yeah…”

The demon king absently prodded at the sad looking food on his plate, his mind buzzing.

He’s safe, for now.

…but who’s ‘he’? After all, that wasn’t Yozak, right?

In the end, everything wasn’t okay.

Yozak would never…

Angrily, Yuuri stabbed his fork through a potato. No, that was definitely not his friend.

Yozak would never leave us like that.

Chapter Text

The promise of a great morning is in the air and Yozak Gurrier is with me. 

It’s just the two of us– he’s by my side as we stroll through the main courtyard of Blood Pledge Castle. I suppose we were talking, because he laughs at something I say and claps his strong hand against my back. In the distance, the kohis are also enjoying the morning, perched atop the towers of the castle and happily chattering away.

Something about the day feels familiar, but I shrug it off.

Anyways, it’s nice having Yozak walking next to me like this, especially after what we’ve been through.

Walking next to me…

“Ah, Yozak! Your legs!”

The orange-haired swordsman smiles down at me. “Checking out my legs, are you, Your Majesty?” Yozak asks, in that jazzy voice of his. 

“No, they–” But I stop. 

I forgot what was so special about them in the first place.

Suddenly, our swords are drawn and clashing together.

“I can’t let Your Majesty’s swordplay get rusty with the Captain away.”

I think I’m putting up a pretty good fight, but the sword in my hands disappears. I then realize I’m not holding a sword, but the autographed wooden baseball bat I had when I was 10 years old.

Yozak’s heavy sword slices through my bat like butter. It splits cleanly in half, no splintering at all. I fall backwards on the ground in surprise.

Before I know it, the tip of Yozak’s blade is at my chest. Above us, the morning sky is now green and still. The kohis have flown away. The chattering has stopped.

I look up at the orange-haired man, expecting to see him triumphantly grinning.

He’s not exactly smiling. He’s not exactly alive, either.

A face full of gray flesh is looking down at me. The whites of Yozak’s eyes are a sickly yellow, his pupils red slits. His legs look like they’ve been put on backwards.

The undead Yozak jerks forward and I brace myself, preparing for his blade to run through my heart.

Except it doesn’t.

I hesitantly open my eyes and see the hilt is raised upward now. My gaze does not leave him as I watch him tilt the blade sideways before he cleanly sticks it through his muscular neck. He doesn’t move. No blood sprays out. There’s only black smoke that billows from the wound.

I want to say his name but I’m unable to.

While looking right at me, Gurrier digs the blade in even deeper, severing more arteries. His head falls soundlessly on the ground, right by my feet. More smoke fills the air.

“Your Majesty?” Yozak’s head asks, in that jazzy voice of his.

I wake up, screaming.

“YOZAK!!!”

Wolfram was jolted out of his sleep to Yuuri yelling at the tops of his lungs. The blonde immediately reached for the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. 

Yuuri also wasn’t there, gone from his place on the bed. Through the darkness, Wolfram’s green eyes wildly scanned the cabin for his fiancé and spotted him facing the corner of the room. He jumped up out of the bed toward him.

“Yuuri!” Wolfram’s arms wrapped around the Maou from behind, pulling his trembling body close. The other boy instinctively fought against him, trying to shake the blonde off.

“No!” The demon king cried, pushing desperately against Wolfram without any success.

The blonde mazoku used his muscle to wrestle Yuuri back onto the bed, throwing him on his back and pinning his arms and legs down with his own. The black-haired boy continued to fight underneath Wolfram, his eyes wide open but not seeing anything in front of him.

Another scream came from the Maou’s mouth– “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

As Wolfram tried to calm Yuuri down, two guards opened their cabin door, swords drawn and a lantern in one of their hands. The light cast over the image of Wolfram holding down a flailing demon king. They hesitantly stepped forward, confusion on their faces.

“It’s a night terror!” Wolfram barked at them. They stopped their movement, but their hands both rested on the handles of their swords. “Leave us, I’m dealing with it.” The guards looked at each other. “NOW!”

The guards retreated in haste.

From underneath Wolfram, Yuuri repeated, voice quavering, “Leave him alone!”

“Yuuri,” Wolfram said, trying to bring him back into the present moment. “Yuuri, can you hear me?”

“Yozak…”

“It’s me, Yuuri– it’s Wolfram.”

As if he hit a switch, the boy’s shaking subsided and Yuuri’s body went limp under the blonde’s. 

Wolfram carefully let go of Yuuri’s wrists and sat up, still straddling the other. He instead grabbed the Maou’s hands and held them in his own, bringing the boy’s folded fingers up to his lips.

“I’m here, Yuuri.”

The blonde watched in the cascading moonlight as something in Yuuri’s eyes clicked, reconnecting him with reality. They widened first, before blinking several times; a couple of tears fell soundlessly down the black-haired boy’s cheeks.

“You’re okay,” Wolfram said, still holding the other’s hands close to him.

Almost inaudibly, Yuuri started, “I… I had a dream–”

No, not a dream– a nightmare .

“I had a dream he… Yozak…”

“You don’t have to speak about it if you don’t want to, Yuuri.”

The Maou swallowed down the lump in his throat and gave a short nod. Wolfram, still holding Yuuri’s hands in his, gently placed them back on the black-haired boy’s chest. He rested one of his own hands over Yuuri’s wildly beating heart.

It’s going so fast, Wolfram thought, frowning with concern.

“Yuuri, let’s do some breathing together. Look at me.” In response, the other boy gave another quick nod, his dark eyes moving to fix themselves on Wolfram's face. “Take a deep breath in.”

Yuuri made a sad attempt at an inhale and Wolfram softly shook his head.

“No, deeper. Imagine yourself filling up your lungs with the air around you.”

This time, still shaky, Yuuri drew a deeper breath. The blonde felt the boy’s chest rise.

“Now breathe out,” he instructed. “Pretend to watch all of the air leave your body.”

He exhaled, Wolfram’s hands following his falling chest.

“Keep going– inhale.”

Rise.

“Exhale.”

Fall.

“That’s it.”

Rise.

Fall.

Soon enough, Yuuri fell into a steady rhythm. He continued his breathing, visualizing air ebbing in and out of his lungs, like water leisurely lapping up against the shore. His gaze was still transfixed on the pools of emeralds above him, deep and rich, the bottom of a lake that was sucking him in…

When Wolfram was satisfied with the other boy’s heart rate, he removed his hands and folded his arms across his own chest. The hypnotic spell over Yuuri was broken. “Do you feel any better?”

The Maou, his composure mostly regained, wiped away any of the remaining mess on his face with his sleeve. “Yeah. Hey… Wolf?”

“What is it, Yuuri?”

“Well… to start with, thanks. I really am grateful for that, it helped a lot… But also…” The black-haired boy slowly raised his other hand and patted it against one of Wolfram’s hips. Sheepishly, he asked, “Uhm… can you get off of me now?”

“Oh– right,” Wolfram blushed, realizing the position he was in. Hurriedly, he stopped straddling the other boy and resumed his own position in bed next to Yuuri. The demon king continued to lay flat on his back, while Wolfram laid himself sideways facing his fiance.

Yuuri blew air out of his nose and closed his eyes. “Wolf, what am I gonna do when I get back? What if… what if I can’t–”

“Don’t, Yuuri,” Wolfram interrupted. “Don’t even think it’ll get in the way. If you do, you’ll let it get the better of you.”

The demon king sighed again. “I just… I just want to be strong for everyone.”

Wolfram studied the boy’s face through the darkness of the room. “You are strong, Yuuri. You survived– that’s proof enough of your strength. Not a lot of people have that resolve, you know.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “I know I call you a wimp, but you… you’re not anymore. Or at least most of the time, you’re not, anyways.” 

Yuuri turned slightly to better face Wolfram. “And you’re not that much of a Selfish Prince anymore, you know?” His voice softened. “You put others first, which is different from the Wolf I met on day one.”

“Well…. you taught me that, I suppose,” the blonde said with a blush.

“Weird how things can change, isn’t it?” Yuuri murmured, black eyes staring up into the abyss of the ceiling. “In such a short time, so much can change…”

Wolfram knew that statement applied to many things, both good and bad.

So much can change…

“...That means that nothing will be the same again, will it, Wolf?”

For the rest of the night, there was only silence as the unanswered question hung heavy in the space between them.

Chapter Text

Upon reaching the shores of Shin Makoku on the morning of the fourth day, the group wasted no time in traveling back to the safety of Blood Pledge Castle. When the castle gates opened, Anissina and Lady Cheri were at the front of the pack ready to greet the returners. However, their excitement to see the Maou turned grim as Dacascos dragged the open-faced coffin that housed the frozen body of Yozak Gurrier to the front gates. Anissina stood over the infamous “Snow Günter” box and frowned down at the orange-haired swordsman who was covered in a light layer of ice. 

“This is going to take some time,” the Poison Lady concluded in a grave voice. The tone had alarmed Yuuri, until Anissina had added, “But do not worry, Your Majesty. This is nothing a woman like me cannot solve.”

With that, Gisela and a handful of other soldiers joined Dacascos in helping wheel away the corpse-like man, the red-headed scientist following closely behind.

As Yuuri helplessly watched Gurrier be transported to Anissina’s lab, he felt a hand clap against his back. Wolfram stood next to the Maou, looking assuredly at him. “Remember, if anyone can bring Gurrier back, it will be Anissina. Her inventions may be ridiculous, but her knowledge of things is really quite impressive– there is a reason they call her the Poison Lady, you know.”

Wordlessly, Yuuri nodded.

“Yuuri!”

A more than familiar high-pitched voice rang across the courtyard of Blood Pledge Castle. Yuuri turned and caught a glance of brown curls before the small figure had launched herself at the black-haired boy at full speed. Yuuri nearly toppled over, but welcomed the little girl lovingly into his arms.

“Greta!”

He picked her up and spun her around. Once he settled her feet back on the ground, Yuuri kneeled so that he was eye-level with his daughter. 

Even though she was beaming from ear to ear, tears had welled up in her amber eyes. “Greta’s so happy that Yuuri is back!” The girl buried her face in the demon king’s chest, her little hands grasping at the boy’s black clothing. Yuuri enveloped her again and placed the top of his chin on her brown head, contently closing his eyes. She smelled like pure sunshine.

“I’m also so happy to see you– I really missed you, Greta, more than you could have imagined.”

Greta reached one her hands out to wrap around the top of Wolfram’s leg, snaking around to bring the blonde closer to both her and Yuuri.

“Greta’s also happy that Wolfram found Yuuri, just like he said he would!”

Wolfram smiled down at the two of them. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

The girl giggled happily. “Mhm!” She lifted her head and looked back and forth to both of her fathers. “Greta knew he would, because Wolfram loves Yuuri very, very much!”

Both boys then glanced at each other and looked away, a light pink blush spreading across both of their cheeks.

Greta continued to look between both her fathers, still in complete awe and ecstasy that they were back. However, after gazing at Yuuri’s face some more, the elation in her eyes was replaced with concern. “Yuuri, are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in ages.”

The demon king ruffled her hair. “I’m okay, Greta. Just a little tired.” He smiled and added, “I guess I couldn’t sleep because I missed everyone so much.”

At his words, her sparkle returned. Without wasting a second, she asked, “Can we have a tea party together soon?! I have more stories of Trap Lady Greta to share with you!”

“Of course,” Yuuri answered lovingly, although part of him was a little worried about what his daughter had gotten up to during his absence. “It–”

“–It will have to wait, however.” A deeper voice interrupted the reunion, a large shadow unexpectedly towered between the three of them. Gwendal von Voltaire had appeared, arms crossed and frown lines as deep as ever. “His Majesty has urgent matters he needs to attend to before that happens.”

“Aw, that’s unfair, Gwen!” Greta whined, her thick eyebrows furrowing in disappointment. Only she could get away with talking like that to the terrifying Voltaire brother.

Yuuri conceded with a sigh, “He’s right, Greta. A lot happened, and I need to go talk with everyone about it as King.” He stood up and wiped the dirt away from his pants.

Two other figures appeared next to Gwendal. On one side of the scowling mazoku stood the elegant Günter von Christ, his white hair glistening against the rays of Shin Makoku’s sunset. On the other side, a black-haired bespeckled boy smiled, the sun equally reflecting off his (borrowed, Yuuri mentally noted) glasses.

A sudden realization hit Yuuri. “Ah! Murata, this is your first time here at the castle, isn’t it? Well, not the first time, but…”

The Great Sage smiled. “I know what you mean.” He stepped in front of Greta, waving down at her. “Hello! And who might you be?”

Proudly, Yuuri stepped behind the brown-haired girl and introduced her to his friend. “Murata, this is my daughter, Greta!” Greta waved back in response, smiling brightly.

“Pleased to meet you! Hey, you look just like Yuuri! Are you his brother?”

“I am not, thankfully,” Murata responded, his grin growing wider as Yuuri rolled his eyes at his comment. “Nice to meet you, Greta.” 

Before anyone could speak another word, Günter rather gracefully interjected, “Your Majesty, Your Eminence, please forgive my rudeness, but we should go inside to debrief sooner rather than later.” His voice was direct, but his violet eyes shone with a warm kindness. Yuuri and Murata looked at each other.

“Okay, then,” Yuuri nodded and stepped toward his retainers. Wolfram followed closely behind. “Greta, let’s promise to have that tea party soon, okay?”

She beamed again from ear to ear. “Or else Trap Lady Greta will get you if you don’t!”

Yuuri laughed, but he couldn’t help but think he really needed to start being more diligent in keeping up with how much time his daughter actually spent with Anissina.

If things keep up like this, Yuuri thought to himself, she’s going to be a monster of a teenager.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought.

Yuuri’s initial days back in Shin Makoku were filled with meetings after meetings after meetings, followed by a mountain of paperwork that needed to be reviewed and signed by the 27th Demon King. Of course, despite how busy he was, Yuuri kept his promise and had his Father Daughter Tea Party scheduled with him, Greta, and Wolfram.

The nights also mostly passed by in a blur of exhaustion. Gisela had helped with this by giving Yuuri some majutsu sleeping powders. The Maou was instructed to mix it in with a cup of water before bed to help ease his nightmares, but that it should not be used every day.

“Use it every other day for a week before bed,” the green-haired medic had dutifully told him. “Any more usage than that may disrupt His Majesty’s sleeping patterns permanently.”

While the powders had shepherded sleep to Yuuri on most nights, it was not one hundred percent perfect.

Every so often, the nasty whispers that hummed in Yuuri’s heart took hold of him. It usually happened after something triggering, like hearing news about Gurrier, or whenever he woke up to an infinite blackness surrounding him. The venomous voices would stir, rising to creep along the walls and beckon to him as he tried to push them out of his brain. When those moments came to him, the Maou again would find himself rendered frozen in bed, the darkness that hung in the periphery of his mind digging its claws into every inch of his body. 

That acerbic blackness would then crawl out of the thoughts that the demon king failed to suppress, slowly constricting around his throat, its unhinged jaws ready to swallow him whole.

And every time Yuuri felt himself about to succumb to the poison, a light had always managed to shine over him and pry open the enclosing jaws around him.

In those moments, it was Wolfram that had broken the haunting spell over him. He didn’t have to do much to save Yuuri from himself, if Yuuri was being honest. The black-haired boy found that if Wolfram was able to make his presence known, whether it was standing next to him during a meeting or talking to him before bed, those small moments would keep the acridity in his soul at bay.

He wasn’t exactly too sure how the other boy was able to dispel the darkness, but Yuuri was thankful for it nonetheless.  It seemed to have more success than Gisela’s sleeping powders, at any rate. He found himself, whether he fully realized it or not, sleeping closer to the blonde at night in their bed. Yuuri's body was always within inches of Wolfram’s own, aware of the warmth that emanated from the mazoku next to him. 

The days and nights ebbed and flowed onwards like that, and slowly, surely, the corners of the Maou’s mind cautiously brightened.

It was about two weeks before a sense of some normalcy had returned. Along with it, the pacing of the Maou’s agenda had evened out, the mountain of paperwork getting smaller and smaller. During that time, there had also been news throughout the castle that Yozak’s condition had been stabilized, thanks to the suspended animation Günter, Gisela, and Anissina had placed him in. However, while he was stabilized, there was still no word on the trajectory of the orange-haired swordsman’s full recovery.

Things had even slowed down so much that Yuuri was able to allow himself to yearn for seeing the familiar faces of his family back on Earth.

Murata and Yuuri were taking advantage of one leisurely-paced morning to have that conversation, enjoying a spread of freshly baked pastries in one of the castle’s breakfast nooks. Yuuri had enjoyed his daily morning run and was treating himself to one of Effe’s famous homemade chocolate croissants. Murata sat across from him, swirling a small silver spoon around the teacup in front of him.

“Shibuya, now that things have settled, we should try to get back home,” the Great Sage said, resting the silverware down and taking a generous sip of his tea. 

Yuuri nodded in agreement. “That would be nice. It’s really been awhile since I’ve been back.”

“Well, you haven’t had a whole lot of opportunities to go back to Earth, have you?” Murata smiled and shook his head. “I think it’ll be good for you, you know.”

“Yeah.”

 Steadily, the bespeckled boy sat back in his chair, studying the Maou. “How have you been sleeping lately?”

Yuuri knew that question was coming. Ever since they had been back, Murata had kept an odd distance from the Maou, but Yuuri could always feel the other’s eyes watching him. He would sit in on some briefings or make small talk with Yuuri in passing, but whenever others came around, he would quickly take his leave. The Great Sage seemed to be waiting for a more private moment to talk together. 

However, this moment itself was not exclusively shared by the souls of the Sun and the Moon. Wolfram was also in the room, although positioned at the other end of it, sitting next to one of the corner windows and reading a book.

“Better,” Yuuri admitted, picking at a flaky piece of bread on the croissant in front of him. 

Murata continued on in a lower voice, “...Has there been anything else since we’ve been back?”

“Kind of– some more nightmares and stuff… Wolfram also told me I did wake up screaming on the first night, but I don’t remember. He said I was talking about whirlpools or something.”

“Whirlpools, huh?” Murata rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He picked up his teacup again and relished another sip.

As Yuuri opened his mouth to say something more, the demon king was interrupted by the sound of the room’s door opening. Both pairs of black eyes turned to observe whomever had just entered. The ever-beautiful Günter had appeared, striding toward them with a serious face that was an unwelcome contrast to the warmth of the sunshine lighting the room.

“Your Majesty, Your Eminence,” Günter greeted the double-blacks briskly. Yuuri noticed a folded piece of paper in his advisor’s hands. Wolfram, who had still been absorbed in his reading, finally broke his concentration to glance upwards at Günter’s presence. “Sorry for the intrusion, but we have received a potential request for a diplomatic envoy to visit Shin Makoku.” 

Okay… this was not typically an unusual thing to happen, and certainly it was not something that warranted an interruption so early in the morning. Yuuri frowned and sat up straighter.

“Okay. Can I ask which country requested to visit?” A few different names ran through the Maou’s mind before Günter could answer, and one idea in particular made him get ahead of himself. Excitedly, he asked, “Ah, is it Caloria? Is Lady Flynn coming?”

From his corner, Wolfram made a dramatic huff. Murata snickered.

“Unfortunately, no,” Günter placed the parchment in front of the demon king. “The delegation that has requested to visit us to expand their diplomatic relations is none other than Shou Shimaron and their King Saralegui.”

All at once, Yuuri felt as if the air had been completely sucked out of the room. His blood drained from his face and an intense chill ripped through him. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he surely believed he would have been knocked off balance.

Wolfram, however, stood up immediately, hackles raised. “Why does that bastard want to come here?!” The blonde’s emerald eyes were ablaze. “Isn’t this visit premature, considering everything that happened less than a month ago in Seisakoku?!”

Günter nodded his head sympathetically, his snow-like hair shaking about him gracefully. “While I hear His Excellency’s concern, he has put us in a difficult position to deny him. King Saralegui has claimed he wants to visit Blood Pledge Castle and our great homeland to understand more of the mazoku way of life and build a stronger relationship with Shin Makoku. If we reject this request, the diplomatic consequences would be… worrying.”

Before Wolfram could retort, Murata broke in, “Lord von Christ is right.” Wolfram’s glare shot toward the double-black sage. “Besides, it may be for the best. Shou Shimaron securing diplomatic relations with Seisakoku was a smart move on King Saralegui’s part. It helped him curry favor with both his royal and public perception. Making a move to also reach out to strengthen relations with us, if not secure an alliance…” At this point, Murata glanced at Yuuri, who had not moved a muscle from his spot. “...an actual alliance, that is– it would be a smart move for him to keep up his political momentum.”

Wolfram indignantly crossed his arms. “Hmph. I still don’t like it. That man– he shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near Yuuri.”

Murata and Günter looked at each other, before the double-black sage turned toward the blonde prince. “Shibuya will have all of us here for him. We won’t let them be alone. It would be hard, not to mention stupid, for King Saralegui to try something right under our noses– I’m sure he’s smart enough to know we will have tight surveillance on our beloved King. Don’t you agree, Lord von Bielefield?” Murata leaned his chin in his palm and used his other hand to exploratorily poke Yuuri. “Anyways, what do you think, Shibuya? Ultimately, it’s your call– we will support whatever decision you make.”

“H-huh?” The poke jolted Yuuri out of his frozen daze. “Uhm… well, like you said. I’ll have all of you here with me. I know you guys won’t let anything happen to me…” Yuuri quietly agreed. “In Sara’s defense, I guess he did help us in the end in Seisakoku, so that makes him a good guy… right?” The Maou’s voice faltered, trying to deeply convince himself of that last part. “I’m sure it’s fine for him to visit…” 

Wolfram’s fire was dampened by the boy’s words. 

From his seat, Murata inquired, “When would this visit happen, Lord von Christ?”

“In a month, Your Eminence. This letter, as you may know, was a preamble to a more formal request that needs to be made. It seems like King Saralegui and his delegation wanted to see what His Majesty would say before jumping through the rest of the hoops,” Günter explained. “After all, this would be a rather significant meeting with even more significant results, if it all goes well.”

The blonde mazoku glowered. “That’s still not enough time–”

“How long would he be here for?” Yuuri abruptly asked, cutting Wolfram off.

The white-haired adviser hesitated for a moment, before saying, “Five days, Your Majesty.”

An indiscernible expression swirled in the Maou’s dark eyes. The room sat in a still silence, all eyes locked on the demon king.

Yuuri finally gave the retainers his answer, his voice void of emotion.

“Tell Sara he can come.”

Günter nodded solemnly. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will draw up and send a response in haste welcoming the Shou Shimaron delegation for a diplomatic visit. If you’ll excuse me, then.” With an elegant turn of the heel, Günter took his leave.

Yuuri still had not moved, but Wolfram could see from where he was standing that the demon king had tightly balled his hands into fists at his sides. “It’ll be okay,” Yuuri whispered. “It will be okay,” he repeated it again, a little bit louder and to no one in particular. Wolfram stepped closer to his fiancé, frowning.

“I think it’s also time I take my leave,” Murata said, pushing his teacup away from him and rising to his feet. “I guess it will be awhile until we go home, then.”

“Murata…” Yuuri murmured, looking at the bespeckled boy.

The double-black sage looked directly at the Maou. Without warning, Murata’s voice hardened. “Shibuya– he can’t do anything to you nor anyone else in the castle. Try not to worry.”

The demon king swallowed hard. “Right.”

“Plus,” the other black-haired boy continued. The playful lilt in his voice returned without skipping a beat. In one swift movement, Murata moved behind Wolfram and pushed him toward Yuuri. The blonde unexpectedly stumbled forward, nearly falling on top of the Maou. “You’ll have Lord von Bielefield to protect you. Isn’t that right?” His trademark fox-like grin flashed across his face. Murata then headed toward the door, giving the pair both a wave and quick wink. “If you need me, I’ll be in the temple with the shrine maidens~!” With that, the Great Sage disappeared, leaving the royal couple alone.

Within seconds, Wolfram regained his composure and cleared his throat. “That guy… He’s right, you know. We won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Yuuri looked up at Wolfram, and the two shared a comforting smile between them.

“I know,” Yuuri finally said. “Thanks, Wolf. I am lucky to have you.” Even though Wolfram knew the Maou’s words were genuine, something about how he said it felt distant, disconnected. 

“Big Brother and Günter will ensure everything is secured before that man’s arrival…” Yuuri’s black eyes still looked lost, and Wolfram finally pieced together why. “...I’m also sure you wish Conrart was here, but I hope you know I can also protect you.”

Conrad’s absence was a continuous chasm in Yuuri’s life, without a doubt. Alas, the Lion of Luttenberg was still in Dai Shimaron, “sowing seeds” or whatever he had said to Yuuri before their fateful departure. The Maou knew his godfather was being figurative, but Yuuri couldn’t immediately dismiss a ridiculous image of the tall soldier dressed in a pair of jean suspenders with a piece of wheat in his mouth.

At the very least, Yuuri was happy he could still have silly thoughts like that distract him from time to time. He needed those things, now more than ever, as he had to mentally prepare for Saralegui’s visit.

Yuuri’s fists moved from his side and landed exasperatedly on the table. “Argghh… Wolf, want to come on a run with me??”

Wolfram had been mindlessly tidying up some of the items on the breakfast table but paused when the Maou slammed his fists down. He looked skeptically at Yuuri, “Didn’t you just come back from one?”

“Yeah… and? Come on, come run with me!” Yuuri gave a dramatic pleading gesture and Wolfram couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Fine, you wimp– but I’m not going to take it easy on you if you’re tired.”

That was fine with Yuuri. He was planning on running as hard as he could, almost literally, from his problems.

If he didn’t, he had an idea of what was waiting for him.

Chapter Text

For the rest of the day, Yuuri found anything and everything to help busy his mind with. After his run, the Maou spent time testing out Greta’s traps in the courtyard, had an afternoon tea with Cheri and Anissina, helped Dacascos with odd jobs around the castle– Yuuri even agreed to an extra long lesson with Günter before he had to return to his study and complete through whatever paperwork was left. His baseball-brain was fried, which was exactly what he wanted.

However, the hours and things to do eventually waned away, and Yuuri knew soon he would have to try and relinquish himself to sleep.

Yuuri knew he would, eventually, have to look down the barrel of his own thoughts.

He would have to think about how Saralegui would be coming to Shin Makoku.

Acid rose in the back of his throat.

No, not yet, Yuuri thought. The day isn’t over yet. 

There was still one last thing left on Yuuri’s list of things to do. And, admittedly, this last thing was his favorite thing– a bath.

After gathering his toiletries together, Yuuri made his way to his private bath. As he walked on, he was very aware that the corrosive taste in his mouth hadn’t entirely disappeared and his body was on edge as time inevitably moved forward. A thought popped into his mind. Maybe there were some essential oils or perfumes or something around in there to help him relax– there must be, right? If there were perfumes and things that greatly impassioned others, surely there must be something to keep his nerves at bay. 

In the expansive bathroom, the demon king found a cart full of a variety of bottles that was stationed next to a full-length mirror by its entrance. He perused through the various shampoos, bubble baths, and other eccentric smelling perfumes that lined the cart, rifling through and squinting as he tried to read the faded labels. His reading of the mazoku language was still elementary at best, and with the wet smudges and handwritten characters on the labels, he was having a tough time deciphering what was what.

“Let’s see… I think this says cherry,” Yuuri said to himself, inspecting a round, red bottle with a green stopper and giving it a hesitant sniff. “Hmm… or does it say Cheri?” Yikes - do I want to risk it? He gulped and continued to search, creasing his brows in concentration. He picked up another bottle, its container opaque and minimalistic. The word printed on it at first looked like ‘sleep,’ but Yuuri was soon disappointed. “Uh… ‘sheep’? That can’t be right… right?”

“No, you’re right. It’s bath salts imported from the sheep hot springs of Caloria.”

The unexpected voice beside Yuuri made him just about jump out of his towel. 

“Wah!!! Wolfram!”

Yuuri turned around to face the mazoku. The other boy was standing about two feet behind Yuuri, wrapped in a downy pink robe, having just finished his own bath. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and neck, the rest of his exposed skin flecked with water droplets. Wolfram’s hands were placed on his delicate hips as he leaned quizzically toward the cart the Maou was inspecting.

“What are you looking for?”

Yuuri went back to rummaging through the cart. “Just something to help me relax.”

After a moment of inspection, Wolfram reached his slim fingers out to grab hold of a thin purple vial.

“Here,” Wolfram said, handing the demon king the bottle. “This says it puts the user in a deep state of relaxation. There are measurements for levels of relaxation on the back.”

“Okay,” Yuuri responded approvingly, looking the vial over. “See you in bed, then.”

Wolfram had been settled in bed for about an hour before he began to worry about his fiancé.

Could it be that Shinou sent him back to Earth mid-soak? 

Was Yuuri enjoying some “alone time”?

Or did he just straight up drown? 

No, there was no way Yuuri could drown… was there?

As Wolfram was about to get up to check, he heard the sound of wet footsteps coming from the hall between their room and the private bath. Ah, there he is, Wolfram thought, allowing a wave of relief to pass through him.

The footsteps drew closer and Yuuri strode under the archway, his plush towel loosely draped around his waist. Wolfram was surprised, as Yuuri typically would have fully changed into his pajamas before retiring to their bedroom. The step in his walk was carefree, a serene expression apparent on his dark facial features.

“Yuuri–” Wolfram started, only to be cut off by Yuuri practically throwing himself on their bed. He landed with a contented sigh, stretching his arms and legs fully next to the blonde before rolling over onto his back. Wolfram shot a dark look at him, notably displeased that the Maou was still soaking wet and lying all over their sheets.

“Wah~! I think that was the best bath ever~!”

Wolfram scoffed. “I’m happy for you, but Yuuri, you’re getting the pillows and blankets all wet–”

Yuuri waved him off and reached his arms up to languidly stretch out again, his towel moving further away from the parts it was covering. Wolfram was annoyed at first at being dismissed by the black-haired boy, but the downward movement of the towel shifting caused his thoughts to focus on something else. His green gaze was fixated on the newly revealed skin of the Maou’s Adonis belt and the start of a trail of black hair. To say a tomato was more red than Wolfram would be an overstatement.

“Whatever was in that bottle definitely worked,” the demon king said, lazily turning to face Wolfram. Wolfram half-looked away, trying to hide his flushed face, but kept one eye on his fiancé. He had the sloppiest smile on his face, no emotional guard up whatsoever. Wolfram had never seen Yuuri so… so out of it before, so completely and utterly blithe. Was it because…?

“Yuuri, how much of that stuff did you use?”

“Hmnm? The whole bottle~” 

Wolfram felt his jaw drop. That idiot…! He was happy that his fiancé felt so relaxed, however Wolfram had told the demon king to read! the! measurements! He was only supposed to use a teaspoon, maximum two teaspoons, to achieve the desired effect of the perfect zen state. While he wanted to give the black-haired boy shit for that, a small voice in his head told him if he did he’d possibly undo the relaxation Yuuri currently was experiencing. Wolfram bit his lip– another time, for sure…

“I see,” Wolfram managed, rubbing his temples. “Anyways, why don’t you change before going to bed? You’re going to catch a cold.”

In response, the Maou yawned. “But… I’m so comfy~”

Wolfram doubled down, his voice more stern. Yuuri was sounding just like their daughter. “Yuuri, what if Greta comes in and wants to sleep with us? Then what? You’re practically naked.”

“She–” He paused as another yawn happened upon him. “She said she wanted to be in her room tonight to… to test… trap… trapping…” Yuuri’s voice trailed off and his eyelids began to droop slowly.

Wolfram shoved him. “Oi! At least get under the covers!”

Without any help from Yuuri, Wolfram somehow managed to get the Maou up enough off the bed to pull the covers back. He then maneuvered Yuuri back onto their mattress, the loose towel around him slipping more and more. Finally, the blonde threw the downy duvet over the half-asleep demon king, giving a snort of disapproval at all the effort he had to go through for this.

“You wimp,” Wolfram muttered under his breath, but couldn’t help look sympathetically at the black-haired boy before also crawling under the covers and joining him. The mazoku would be lying if he said he was not worried about Yuuri’s mental state, considering the bombshell of an invitation that was dropped on him earlier today. It felt like the progress the Maou had made since Seisakoku was being erased away, leaving faint traces of order he had tried so hard to reestablish behind. 

Even though the Maou was more or less high off the special bath he had, Wolfram supposed that was, at least for now, better than the alternative. Bitterly, he recalled the shaking and sobs that had possessed Yuuri since his return to Shin Makoku, the screams that had woken Wolfram up in sheer terror. The mazoku absolutely hated to see the one he loved most at the invisible hands of a torment so unnerving it had seemed to rattle the inner core of who his friend was. 

With a sigh, Wolfram extinguished the flame from the candles by his side of the bed but kept the candle on their dresser lit to burn out later. Honestly, the  blonde did not love falling asleep in pitch darkness; he always preferred some sort of faint light aglow somewhere in the room. He nestled down further under the blankets, lying his head on the pillow and facing himself toward the black-haired boy. Yuuri was lying on his back, eyes closed, the corners of his slightly open mouth turned upwards. His damp black hair had caused a ring of wetness around his head, which in turn made it look like he had the shadow of a halo around him. Wolfram felt like it was safe to assume the boy was asleep, since he had been lying like that quietly for about ten minutes.

Guard duty was over, for now.

“Goodnight,” Wolfram softly whispered, his eyes drifting shut.

“Goodnight, Wolf~”

Immediately, the blonde’s eyelids snapped open. Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting an answer back, that’s for sure. 

Guard duty was not over.

Wolfram stared at the outline of Yuuri in the faint candlelight. The boy still had a serene smile on his face, but his black eyelashes had fluttered halfway open. Slowly, Yuuri turned toward the blonde, reaching his arm out to hang around Wolfram’s back. A happy sigh escaped from the black-haired boy’s lips as he pulled himself closer to the blonde so that they were nearly nose to nose.

“You’re so warm,” Yuuri’s voice was low and rich, almost like the soothing purr of a cat.

Alarm bells sounded off in the mazoku’s head. Yuuri was so close– Wolfram felt the boy’s breath lightly against his face, the dampness of his bare arm steadily resting on him. His cheeks and ears felt the familiar flush of fire that the Maou managed to cause him.

Just as Wolfram was formulating a thought (any thought), Yuuri’s eyes opened a little more, that serene expression still glazed over in those dark irises. “Wolf,” he murmured, before pulling himself even closer to the blonde mazoku, their foreheads touching gingerly. “You really are my best friend.”

Wolfram felt his breath hitch in his throat.

The relaxation mixture must have really been doing its stuff, because Wolfram couldn’t ever imagine Yuuri doing or saying any of this in his wildest dreams.

Wolfram gently pushed the boy away from him, who in return made a sleepy groan of protest. More than anything, the blonde wanted to stay cuddled against the boy forever… but this unpredictable Yuuri was dangerous.

“Sleep, Yuuri,” Wolfram softly commanded.

The Maou yawned and fell silent again, but his dark eyes were still open and directly on the mazoku.

“Could you… hold me?” The black-haired boy asked the question in a voice that sounded much like a child’s. He sounded so small, so vulnerable. It had caught the other completely off guard. 

Wolfram’s emerald eyes wordlessly scanned over the black-haired boy, taking in his serene, flushed face and the tanned exposed skin. A deep desire to cradle the other’s face and run his hands down his chest ached within. However, Wolfram’s words reflected the opposite of his own longing. “...No, not tonight.” 

As much as Wolfram would have taken Yuuri up on the offer any other time, tonight was not the night– not while the other was under the influence of this relaxation majutsu. He knew it wouldn’t be right. It was, again, too dangerous.

However, Wolfram wanted to honor the intent behind the request. He understood that Yuuri was still trying to cocoon himself in physical comfort to make things easier, and the soldier wanted nothing more than to keep those ill feelings away. As a compromise, Wolfram threaded his own fingers within Yuuri’s. He felt Yuuri squeeze his palm and interlock their fingers tighter together before closing his eyes. Wolfram couldn’t help but gaze at the demon king’s handsome face and think about how much he really loved the boy.

Just do it already, a voice devilishly whispered in the back of Wolfram’s mind. You want to.

No. I’m not going to do anything.

Why not? He asked you to.

Yuuri, well… isn’t Yuuri. It would be wrong.

It would make him feel better. It would make you feel better.

No. He doesn’t know what he wants right now… it could ruin everything.

We’ll never know if you don’t try.

Wolfram clenched his teeth together and shut his eyes, whisking away the intrusive thoughts that danced in his ears. He knew for a fact he wasn’t going to let anything happen– if anything were to happen– between them tonight, especially under the pretenses of some special majutsu bath. Yuuri already had a list of worries running endlessly through his mind, and he was depending on Wolfram to help keep him at ease.

Wolfram figured the Maou wouldn’t want to add regret to that list anytime soon.

No, he definitely wouldn’t want that– not as they were preparing for a monster to arrive at their doorstep.

Chapter Text

“Where are we going?”

It's dusk. Greta, Wolf, and I are riding out in a valley together, the sunset beautiful on the horizon. Wolfram is riding his white stallion, while I’m on top of Ao's rippling back. Meanwhile, Greta rides atop a sweet-looking palomino mare, although I don’t recall when she exactly learned how to ride a horse.

“Over there,” I say, pointing to a lake that has appeared in front of us. The light makes the surface glisten like a thousand stars in the sky.

We keep riding and riding, but the lake seems to not get any closer. It sits just off above the horizon, continually tempting us.

“It’ll be dark soon, Yuuri,” Wolfram says, worry heavy in his voice, his horse in step with my own.

“Where’s Greta?” I ask, suddenly noticing that she’s not behind us anymore.

“There,” the blonde definitively says. He looks like Prince Charming on his horse, that beautiful face of his highlighted by the orange rays of the sun. 

Wolfram’s fingers point toward the far-off, glimmering lake. In the distance, we can see that Greta has dismounted her horse, and is standing next to the water. Even though she’s far away, I can see her little arm is waving enthusiastically at us.

“How’d she beat us?” I ask in disbelief, pressing my heels further into Ao’s sides, signaling her to go faster.

Greta continues to wave at us, but she’s honestly too far for me to even see her smiling face..

I just hope she’s okay.

Out of nowhere, a figure appears next to her, also waving their arm.

“Yuuri! We’re over here!” The figure yells from across the fields. “Hurry– it’ll be dark soon!”

Wolfram…?

How did he get over there?!

“Ao, c’mon! Let’s go!”

The sun continues to slowly sink, the warmth of the picture in front of me being erased away.

Again, Wolfram’s voice speaks to me. This time, it’s directly in my ear.

“It’ll be dark soon.”

I jump in surprise, and in turn Ao rears up, clearly spooked. I find myself falling down, hands failing to grasp the reigns dangling in front of me.

I continue to fall, but I seem to never land.

Everything around me is black,

black,

black.

…

I find myself suspended in the absolute darkness.

“Greta? Wolfram?” I hear my voice call out, but it only sounds like a weak echo in an abandoned tunnel.

A tunnel…

I look around, but I can’t see anything.

I can’t see anything.

There’s a distinct earthy smell that begins to fill my nose. It reminds me of the scent of dirt in the summer after an unexpected rainstorm.

Before he even speaks, I know he’s there.

“Yuuri.”

My name leaves his mouth with an innocence that makes my insides shrivel. I can’t see, but I can feel those pale, well-manicured fingers wrap around my face and settle over my eyes.

“My, it’s dark in here, isn’t it?” He says, the smile apparent in his voice.

I try to pry his hands away from me, but he’s intangible, a literal phantom manifested from the abyss.

“Yuuri, don’t worry– I’ll be your eyes. I can show you the way.” The voice coos into my ear, dripping with deception. There’s a tightness in my chest that constricts even more as the words fill my head. 

“Please,” I hear myself beg, still struggling against the shadow behind me. “Sara, let me go.”

My words cry out, but to no avail.

Sara leans in, his lips icily brushing my ear.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Your Majesty.”

The coil around my chest compacts further, and I find myself struggling to breath.

I can’t see.

Again, that sneakily sanguine voice washes all around me.

I feel my heart wanting to jump out of my chest.

“Keep begging for it, Yuuri.”

I wake up again, screaming helplessly into the night.

Chapter Text

Your Majesty…

Your Majesty…

“Your Majesty…”

“Hey, wimp! Wake up!”

The 27th Demon King found himself being shaken awake, his only intelligible response being a disoriented, “Huh?” He looked around at his surroundings, slowly taking the two figures in the room in, before reality fully returned to him. “Sorry, I’m paying attention. Go on.”

An annoyed Wolfram huffed and muttered a “sure you are” under his breath.

Ah yes, that was right. He was in a mandatory lesson of key historical and political events that had transpired in Shou Shimaron over the past ten years that his mentor, Günter, had required both Yuuri and Wolfram to attend. Even though the demon king was aware of some of the more crucial events happening in King Saralegui’s country, Günter was obligated to debrief the timeline thoroughly.

While this was important information, Yuuri was very much struggling to stay awake. Since the announcement of Saralegui’s visit, his nights had been filled with less sleep and more anxiety. After taking that relaxation bath on the first night upon learning of the dreaded news, he woke up with another vivid nightmare that rendered him more or less awake for the rest of the night. Out of all the haunting dreams he had had so far, that one felt the most real.

He could still smell of damp soil lingering in his nostrils and feel cold, thin fingers around his eyes whenever he tried to sleep.

Günter cleared his throat and resumed reading from the book that was in his hands. “As I was saying, Shou Shimaron’s former King Gilbert’s impact on the economy…”

As Yuuri halfheartedly listened to his loyal adviser’s lecture, the black-haired boy tried to visualize Saralegui’s dreaded visit to Shin Makoku. There was a part of his brain that kept shutting down whenever he attempted to actualize the reunion of the two kings or acknowledge the fact that, whether he liked it or not, this visit was going to happen. The fog in his brain increased and his reality disconnected, the words from the sensible people around him drowning into inaudibility. He felt his eyes closing again.

“Don’t even think about it,” Wolfram hissed at Yuuri, elbowing him. “If I have to stay awake for this, you do too.”

Yuuri groaned. 

After their time with Günter, the royal couple headed toward Gwendal’s study for, unsurprisingly, another meeting. This time, it was a briefing on how they were going to involve and placate the Ten Aristocrats during Shou Shimaron’s visit. Since they were not exactly consulted on permitting Shou Shimaron’s diplomatic envoy, there were going to be some entitled fallout that needed to be curbed.

Gwendal was behind his desk, shuffling through a thick stack of papers as he talked strategy. Anissina had also joined them for this meeting, due to her noble connections and at her own insistence of how they needed her help. She was sitting off to the side, tinkering away at some piece of metal in her hands.

“The Ten Aristocrats are going to want an opportunity to formally meet King Saralegui and his retainers before we make any further decisions,” Gwendal said, before he let out a small annoyed sigh. “They’re going to give us a hard enough time as is, so we need to do something that will make them all feel like they’ve had a say in what’s best for the diplomatic future of Shin Makoku.”

“That is why I’m here to save the day,” the red-haired lady said, smiling devilishly. “I already thought of all of this. We will have a ball, of course, where the Aristocrats can mingle with the Shou Shimaron delegation. We can also invite any other esteemed dignitary that would want to give their introductions and blessings before Shin Makoku enters an alliance with Shou Shimaron.”

“Not everyone is going to want an alliance to happen,” Wolfram added frankly from his seat in front of Gwendal’s desk.

Yuuri nodded next to him, stifling a yawn. “That’s true, but it will not be their decision. It’s mine to make.”

Gwendal sat back in his seat, putting his fingers to his temples. “While that is true, Your Majesty, you still need to listen to what the nobles have to say. Whether you like it or not, their words do have weight.”

“I understand that,” Yuuri responded. “That’s why as long as most of them like Sara and warm up to the idea, that’s all that matters. They’ll find him charming.” Wolfram could tell Yuuri’s heart was not fully behind his statement. They were just lines from a script Yuuri was reading in his head.

For a moment, Gwendal was silent. He closed his dark blue eyes, taking a moment to reflect. “...A ball is not a bad idea.”

“Of course it’s not,” Anissina proudly agreed, turning the mysterious invention in her hands over in inspection.

“Wolfram?” Gwendal looked at the blonde for his input.

“You want my opinion?” He said, raising an eyebrow. “...I agree. It would be the most fair way for all of them to have a chance to meet that man. Plus, Uncle loves a ball, whether he’d admit it or not.”

Gwendal rubbed his head more. “If it will make Waltrana be less of a pain in the ass, then let us plan for that.” The frowning man picked up the stack of papers that were in front of him and began thumbing through them. “Then, Your Majesty, it sounds like we are set for a royal ball at your approval. Yes?”

After a few seconds of no immediate reply, Gwendal peered from atop the stack of papers toward the black-haired demon king. His icy gaze fell on Yuuri, whose eyes had again, regrettably, closed.

Wolfram realized why his Big Brother looked extra murderous and hastily shoved Yuuri. “Yuuri! It’s one thing to do this when Günter’s talking, but not with Gwendal!” 

Yuuri jolted awake and met Gwendal’s eyes, which were boring a hole into him. How can one man be this terrifying?!

“Sorry, Gwendal, I–”

Through gritted teeth, the man said, “Is a ball acceptable to you, Your Majesty?”

“Y-yes! Totally! Let’s have a royal ball!”

Gwendal slammed the papers in his hands down on the table. “Understood. Now, you need to understand that you are the Demon King– act like it, especially with the foreign dignitaries coming. Find a way to deal with your problems. You already do not do enough of your duties around here, so the very least you could do is be present.” Gwendal’s words, as always, were scathing yet truthful. “Wolfram,” Gwendal started, and the blonde immediately turned his attention toward his older brother. “Find a way to help this fiancé of yours. If His Majesty won’t listen to you, perhaps Lady von Karbelnikoff can be of service.” He gestured toward Anissina, who interestedly perked up. Gwendal’s words were both a threat and a promise. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes!” Both boys stammered together, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with the Poison Lady.

“You’re dismissed.”

“What am I gonna do, Wolf?!”

The two of them were walking back toward their quarters after their briefing with Gwendal ended. Yuuri’s palms dragged dramatically down the sides of his face. He knew he needed to snap out of it and get it together before Saralegui arrived, or else he would make an absolute fool out of himself and his country. 

“Don’t mind Big Brother, Yuuri. He’s pretty stressed, so his words might have come off harsher than he meant.”

“He’s not wrong, though. I can’t relax like a normal person and forget my problems. It’s hard for me to sleep, hard for me to pay attention– I can’t keep doing this for another few weeks.”

Wolfram frowned. “What about Gisela’s sleeping powders?”

“They’re not perfect, and if I use them too much, I might really not be able to sleep.”

“You can try the relaxation majutsu again– but use the right amount this time.”

Yuuri grimaced at the thought, fighting back the wave of nausea that washed over him at the thought. “I… don’t think so. It made my dreams feel too real… I don’t want to try it again and leave it to chance.”

The blonde made a small humming noise to himself, mulling over possible ways to help the demon king. “Have you tried talking to the Great Sage?”

The other shook his head. “No, I haven’t even seen him since the other day, but…” Suddenly, his expression changed, almost as if he had been struck by lightning. He stopped and looked eagerly at Wolfram. “Hey! You said Lady Cheri dealt with this stuff before. Was there anything else she did to help her?”

Wolfram also stopped walking and thought for a moment, putting one finger thoughtfully to his chin. “Well, let’s see. If the booze, perfumes, endless men, or myself didn’t work…” 

The blonde-haired mazoku let himself think back to twenty years prior, where even a full-blooded man could not always ease the fretful Cheri. Wolfram saw an image of his mother sitting in front of her private vanity, tears staining her face and her hands trembling as she brushed her hair. He would watch her talk to herself in the mirror until her hands became steady and her eyes dried up.

“Why don’t you just ask her yourself?” Wolfram said after a while. “I think she and Greta are about to have their afternoon tea and snack time together.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Yuuri conceded. “Are you coming?”

“I have some other things to do right now, but I’ll find you later.”

After some wandering, Yuuri found the previous Demon Queen sitting out in the rose gardens with his daughter, just as Wolfram had predicted. Cheri was sipping on some fruity pink iced drink, while his daughter was scribbling happily on a piece of paper laid out in front of her. There was a three-tiered tray of scrumptious snacks in front of them, from tiny sandwiches to tasty bite-sized cakes.

As the current Maou approached, his daughter caught sight of him and waved her arm excitedly.

“Yuuri!”

He waved back and Cheri turned to greet him from where she was sitting, smiling at him with red painted lips. 

“Oh~? If it isn’t His Majesty, gracing us with his presence.”

Yuuri pulled out one of the iron-wrought chairs from the small oval table they were at and took a seat. Greta had plucked one of the yellow roses that grew in the garden and nestled it cutely between her right ear. So adorable - he felt like he was the luckiest dad in the world~!

“Ah!” Greta suddenly said, thick eyebrows furrowing determinedly together. She got up and held a finger out toward Yuuri. “Greta forgot to give Yuuri something! Don’t leave just yet, okay?!” In a flash, Greta took off down the garden path that led back to the main courtyard.

Once the girl was fully out of sight, Cheri leaned in seductively toward the Maou, her elbows propped on the table and hands threaded together under her chin. “Oh my, now we’re all alone. Did you come to take me on a date, Your Majesty? Wolfie would be jealous, but I can keep a secret,” she giggled, winking playfully at the black-haired boy.

“Actually,” Yuuri said sheepishly, trying to avoid looking at the older woman’s generous decolletage as she moved in closer. “I have a… more serious question I want to ask you.”

Cheri curiously lifted an eyebrow. “Oh~?”

“Well… as you may have heard, there were a lot of stressful things that happened on that trip,” Yuuri knew that the nature of his return from Seisakoku and some of his behaviors since being back were no secret from the castle gossip. He would be more surprised if the residents of Blood Pledge Castle thought things were perfectly normal after hearing rumors of what had happened to the Demon King in the holy land. “I’m sure you’ve heard that I’ve been a little odd since coming back, too.”

The previous Demon Queen unthreaded her fingers and stirred her iced beverage with the metal straw in front of her. “Well, I have heard that there have been some screams coming from Your Majesty’s room, but I assumed that was just you and Wolfie having some fun,” she admitted saucily, taking a sip of her drink.

Yuuri’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “N-no! I mean, yes, there are screams, but that is definitely not why!” He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. He supposed there was no point in dancing around the subject. “How did… how did you deal with your stress from all the terrible things you went through?”

“You mean my panic attacks?” Cheri said plainly, taking another refreshing sip of her drink. Her sparkling green eyes stared off into the distance. “I tried many things to help me during the war, and many things even after. There would be something that would work one day, but then the next it wouldn’t help at all.” Her voice became softer, more vulnerable than Yuuri was used to hearing. “I was so lucky to have my Wolf– he really was there for me in such a way when no one else was… but that is a lot for a mother to burden her son with all the time.”

A gentle breeze rustled through the garden, lightly brushing their faces and nuzzling the multicolored roses that surrounded them. In the distance, the sound of small faint footsteps could be heard.

Cheri then directed her gaze toward Yuuri, emerald eyes shining now with a mixture of tenderness and torment. “Next time that happens, there are a few things you can try. Breathing exercises, counting… try describing what is around you, Your Majesty. Things you can sense. It may seem silly, but it has been one of the more reliable things I do.”

Quietly, he asked, “Does it ever go away?”

Her smile didn’t falter. “No. Not completely.”

The little footsteps echoed closer.

“Seems like your daughter is almost back,” the former Demon Queen delicately brushed back a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear as she sat up straighter.

“Thanks for talking to me, Cheri. I know that wasn’t a nice conversation.”

“Your Majesty,” she said, reaching out to gently grab the Maou's hand. Her eyes earnestly met his own. “I hope the rest of your reign will only be filled with the light you share… but that sadly is still not how this world works. Even if we’re not at war, surely there will be other things you will encounter in this position that will create more unpleasant memories.” Cheri squeezed his hand. “So, from one Maou to another, take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself. Allow those around you to express their love and be a comfort to you during those bad times– and more importantly, don’t be afraid of accepting that love, either.” 

Greta was now rounding the corner, something pink and indistinguishable in her arms.

Cheri continued, “Love is the most comforting thing there is, both physically and emotionally. Don’t be a stranger to it, Your Majesty.” She released his hand and leaned back in her seat, giving Yuuri one last quick wink before Greta appeared before the both of them.

"Yuuri!" The little girl exclaimed, her excited face eclipsed by the pink blob in her hands.

“My, my, what is that?” The former Demon Queen mused, picking up her drink and gesturing it toward Greta's mystery object.

Greta proudly thrusted the item toward Yuuri. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a handmade plushie. In fact, it was a crocheted version of the beloved bearbee. Yuuri was beyond impressed.

“Greta made something to protect Yuuri! This is for you!”

The black-haired boy leaned down and gratefully took the handmade plush from his daughter. He felt like he could cry– actually, scratch that, there were tears in his eyes. He really was the luckiest dad in the world~!

“Thank you, Greta. You really are the most amazing daughter a father could ask for!”

She grinned in response. “I know!”

Yuuri embraced his daughter in his arms, reveling in how warm and alive and full of love this little girl was. Every part of her was like sunshine, how she smelled, how she smiled, how she spoke.

Momentarily, the demon king's body broke away from the darkness as it clung to that sunshine it so desperately craved, soaking up every inch it could store for later.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Pure sunshine.

Chapter Text

“So what did Mother have to say?”

Yuuri finished brushing his teeth and spit out the swill in the marbled bathroom sink.

The black-haired boy was in the middle of getting ready for bed. After running water briefly in the sink, he stepped back into their bedroom. He stood in the doorframe, shirtless, looking at the blonde who was sitting in bed, shamelessly nursing a glass of wine.

“I’ll tell you in a second– have you seen my pajama shirt?”

The blonde wordlessly took a sip of the deep red liquid and pointed to a blue heap that was lying carelessly by the chaise. He stared, probably longer than he should have, as the half-naked Yuuri walked over to retrieve his top. Wolfram had been, due to Yuuri’s increase in proximity (and sometimes affection), lately indulging in more… inappropriate thoughts. However, the voices inside Wolfram’s head were at constant war with each other whenever it happened.

Stop looking at him like that!

What harm is it doing!?

Still– it’s not proper! 

He’s my fiancé!

Don’t do anything stupid, you can’t risk it.

“Today was exhausting,” Yuuri groaned, interrupting the other’s inner dialogue. He had pulled on his pajama top but failed to button it. Was he purposefully doing this? Wolfram tore his gaze away and looked down at his own exposed feet.

“So what did Mother say? You said you’d tell me.”

The black-haired boy took a seat on the bed next to the blonde. He blew out a small candle that was faintly flickering on his side table next to their bed before answering his fiancé. “Oh yeah,” Yuuri started, sitting back into the palms of his hands. “Lady Cheri had some pretty wise words. She told me some of the things that helped her back then, just like you said.”

“Oh?” Wolfram interestedly asked. He moved to set the wine glass on the table next to him.

“She said they don’t always help, though. It’s not a guarantee.”

“But they are worth a try, though, right? What’s one of them?”

Yuuri took a moment to recall the previous Maou’s words. “Well, she said one of things was to describe what was around me. Like the senses– things I feel, see, all of that.”

“Let’s try it out, then.”

Yuuri rubbed his head embarrassedly. “What do you mean? I don’t think that’s necessary, Wolf.”

Wolfram frowned and crossed his arms. “Why not? We should test it out, see if it’s even a little helpful. Just in case I’m not there to help you, you should have something .”

The Maou mulled it over for a moment. “Well… okay, fine. I guess it doesn’t hurt anything. Maybe it’ll help me sleep faster, who knows?” 

The two boys sat next to each other in their bed, propped up by their pillows. Wolfram, ever the patient person, started tapping his finger lightly against his wrist. Yuuri was looking everywhere but at the blonde, unsure of how to begin.

“ So ? Are you going to start?” Wolfram finally said, a slight twang of annoyance in his voice.

“Stop, Wolf, you’re making me nervous!” The demon king whined, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.

“Well, that’s perfect, then, isn’t it?” Wolfram huffed. “If it’s senses, why don’t you start with what you can see?”

“Uhm, okay,” the black-haired boy glanced around. “I can see you.”

Wolfram rolled his eyes. “...I think you need to be more descriptive than that.”

“Fine. I can see…” His black eyes carefully scrutinized the blonde, looking him up and down. “I can see that you have a stain on your nightgown from drinking wine in bed tonight.”

“H-hey!”

Now this exercise was a little more interesting.

“Let’s see… I can see how red your face gets when you’re embarrassed, just like how it is now,” Yuuri chuckled as a frustrated Wolfram only continued to prove his point. “Yeah, just like that. It’s cute.”

The blonde only felt himself get redder. 

“I also can see how green your eyes are when your face is flushed like that…” Yuuri’s voice softened a bit. “Really, Wolf, your eyes. They’re like the bottom of a lake. I’ve never seen anything like that– maybe I’ve said this before, but it was the first thing I noticed about you, actually.”

The mazoku felt his heart beat a little faster. Crap, now he was the one getting nervous. It was hard to not squirm under Yuuri’s gaze. After clearing this throat, the blonde managed to say, “Okay, now something you hear.”

“Hmm…” The demon king listened closer to his surroundings. “I can hear the wind outside moving the branches on the trees… I can also hear the footsteps of guards walking by.” Yuuri closed his eyes to listen more intensively. In doing so, he had subconsciously leaned closer to the blonde to hone in on the faint sounds filling the space around them. “And your breathing. I can hear that.”

Wolfram swallowed slightly. “What about smell now?”

“I can smell my soap,” the black-haired boy said simply, to which Wolfram gave him a look that meant he needed to add more detail. “Uhm, I guess it smells… musky? Or like vanilla? Some sort of smell that would be advertised in a mall or something.”

Mall… ? Wolfram squinted at the weird Earth word, but stopped himself from asking anything off topic. Another time.

Yuuri’s voice and body language had considerably relaxed more. When he talked, he took his time. He seemed less tense than when he had first settled into bed. Wolfram wondered, or maybe it was the wine talking, but… the blonde took a breath before trying something he considered bold. As naturally as he could, he lowered himself more into the bed and leaned his head on the black-haired boy’s shoulder. He felt Yuuri possibly glance down to look at him, but there was no rejection on the Maou’s part. They continued on with the task at hand. 

Again, Yuuri closed his dark eyes to heighten the connection to his senses. “I can also smell the candle I put out, the smoke from it. And your shampoo… it always has a really strong scent when you first get out of the bath.” Wolfram blushed again, unsure of whether he should apologize or kick the boy from underneath the covers. Before he had to decide, Yuuri added, “I like it. It smells nice, like flowers when they’re freshly cut and brighten up a room.”

As casually as Wolfram had leaned his head on the demon king, Yuuri just as casually, abstractedly, lifted a hand to delicately caress the blonde’s soft hair in his fingers.

A part of the mazoku’s brain short circuited, but he did his best to keep his composure. “H-how are you feeling? Is talking like this working?”

Yuuri continued to absently twist a blonde lock around his finger. “Yeah, I think so. I feel pretty relaxed.”

“Want to stop?”

“I’ll just finish. It’s making me tired, so something is working.” As if on cue, a yawn closely followed his words. “What do we have left?”

The blonde thought for a moment. “Touch.”

“Hmm…” Yuuri’s senses adjusted to become aware of the things he could feel. “Well, the pillows feel pretty soft against my back.” Suddenly, the eased expression on Yuuri’s face cracked in surprise and slight embarrassment. “S-So does your hair– sorry, I didn’t even realize what I was doing–”

“–I don’t mind,” Wolfram added quickly before the Maou decided to remove his hand. Yuuri tentatively accepted the blonde’s invitation, moving his fingers from Wolfram’s bangs to slowly thread through the rest of his fair hair, curiously combing through the top of Wolfram’s head to the curls comforting his neck. Wolfram sank a little deeper into the other’s touch, leaning partially against his chest now. “It’s so soft, like a kitten or silk or something.”

The two of them were easing into the essence of each other now, two objects gently melting together. Wolfram silently embraced the moment, before finally prompting the other, “...You’ve been saying things in threes, so you need one more thing.”

Now it was Yuuri’s turn to blush as he continued, “I guess… I can feel the warmth of your body. You’re always super warm, like when you first open an oven.”

“And you’re always super cold,” the blonde playfully countered back, a smirk on his lips. “Okay, the last sense– taste.”

“This one’s gonna be tough,” Yuuri mumbled as he tried to mindfully pinpoint the flavors in his mouth. “I mean, really it’s mostly the mint of the toothpaste. Maybe still some of the lemon from dessert tonight?” Helplessly, his black eyes scanned the room, thinking it would somehow help him come up with a third taste.

The delayed answer had caused Wolfram to look up a bit from his position on the Maou’s chest.

Taste .

As he looked around him, Yuuri’s eyes caught sight of Wolfram’s lips, taking particular interest in how his bottom one was pink and slightly wet. 

“Taste,” The demon king repeated aloud this time, somewhat breathless. Wolfram had resumed his previous position, but Yuuri was still imagining the other boy’s mouth. Huh . Wolfram’s beautiful face was not news to anyone, especially Yuuri. However, the Maou had never really taken a moment to consider what the benefits of Wolfram’s angelic features held– like his lips, for example. Yuuri wondered if they felt as soft as they looked, or if they tasted as good as they…

“Are you good?” Wolfram asked after the lack of a reply from the black-haired boy became more apparent.

“Uh, y-yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about the last one. I really have no idea.”

Yuuri could practically hear Wolfram’s frown.

“Hey, Yuuri– your heart. It’s faster than before… did you–?”

“No, it’s nothing bad, I promise! Let’s just sit and relax. I wasn’t thinking about… him.”

In fact, he was thinking about someone very different– his thoughts were still centered on the blonde next to him and the slow warmth that was creeping throughout his body. This particular warmth was not a new sensation to Yuuri, as he was a typical teenage boy. However, this particular context that was forming around the familiar warmth was definitely new.

Yuuri had always branded himself as a straight man because, well, society. In school, he had never gone out of his way to chase girls, but he could appreciate a pair of tits on a pretty girl like any other heterosexual guy. However, at the same time, he had never gone out of his way to chase guys… but he could appreciate a 6-pack on a ripped man like any… other… heterosexual… guy?

The Maou creased his brows in torn confusion. Muscles were great, boobs were great… were they great in the same ways? Different ways? 

Then what was great about Wolfram? 

Well, a lot of things, Yuuri could already admit.

For starters, he certainly liked Wolfram’s face. The boy was beyond pretty, and Yuuri had to admit his soft feminine features only added to the skepticism in his brain. He also liked his hair, like a lot. It looked amazing, smelled amazing, and as Yuuri recently discovered, felt amazing, too. The black-haired boy also very much enjoyed Wolfram’s eyes, how those rich green pools reflected a spectrum of emotions so vividly. He also remembered a few weeks ago, when his hands had innocently discovered the muscles the blonde hid away that a life of training had warranted him. He remembered his jealousy, but how they confessedly felt nice to touch as Yuuri had healed his wound. Yuuri also remembered how it made him feel a lot like how he was feeling now, the warmth now all encompassing around his body– ah, crap.

It was already too late. His thoughts had lingered too long on the possibilities of Wolfram. Yuuri had felt the blood rush to a much lower part of his body, felt the involuntary twitch of his dick in his pajama pants. The thin black G-string could only contain it so much.

Yuuri tried to remain perfectly still, hoping the blonde wouldn’t notice. Keep calm, Yuuri, it’s fine. Even though you’re on top of the blankets, what are the chances he’ll notice? You’re barely hard– Oh god, but what if Wolfram did see? In response, Yuuri’s penis only grew at the thought, much to the boy’s disbelief. What?! Am I into that?! Do I want him to–

Wolfram looked back up at the black-haired boy. He had been enjoying their silence, but could now feel Yuuri shifting slightly in discomfort at something.

“Hey, Yuuri…”

“Yes!” He responded, too quickly and too loudly for his own liking. A bead of sweat began to form on the king’s forehead.

Wolfram paused, eyeing the Maou suspiciously. He continued, “I don’t know how to say this, but is… do you…”

Yuuri couldn’t handle the imaginary pressure he had conjured any longer. “I’m sorry!” In a flash, he pushed Wolfram off of him, both of his own hands frantically flying to cover his rising shame. “That’s never happened before– at least, not like that. I’m sorry!”

Blankly, Wolfram looked from Yuuri’s hands, to his face, and then back to his hands. Oh. Oh . He raised his own hand to cover his mouth and stifle an unexpected smile. “I was going to just ask if you cared if I was that close to you, but…” Wolfram lowered his hand, and said in a voice that was a mixture of shock, sly pride, and borderline laughter, “...but never mind, apparently you don’t.”

A pillow immediately made direct contact with the blonde’s face.

“I’m a healthy teenage boy!!! It’s not my fault you smell good!! …Don’t be offended!” 

Wolfram couldn’t help fully let out his laugh now, although it was muffled by the pillow. He pulled it away from his face, gradually regaining his collectedness. “I’m not offended, you wimp,” he said. “Anyways, you’re my fiancé… it’s not like it’s unwarranted, you know.”

Yuuri felt like his skin was lava and he was going to melt right through the bed. In his heart, the demon king knew that Wolfram loved him, but the boy had never crossed any boundaries that led to Yuuri thinking about the blonde wanting anything… physical. Sure, they talked (read: argued, joked) about their romantic relationship, but Wolfram had never expressed his interest in a physical one, aside from the ones he didn’t want Yuuri to have with other people. It was strange to hear Wolfram admit that he found Yuuri’s boner flattering ; really, it was weird to even think that anyone would find that flattering to begin with, but still. Yuuri felt the tips of his ears burn.

There were a few moments of silence between the two boys, as Wolfram kept staring at Yuuri, who in turn continued to keep his hands in front of his arousal. Discreetly, Wolfram’s emerald gaze dropped to pry at the problem Yuuri was trying to desperately hide.

Almost in a whisper, Wolfram asked, “Do you… want help with that?”

Yuuri felt fire and ice crash within him simultaneously. Immediately, the word ‘no’ jumped to the forefront of his mind; however, a successful verbal response did not follow suit. He forced himself to look at Wolfram, whose face looked just as flushed as Yuuri’s. It seemed that the blonde had tried to play it cool, but his blush said otherwise. 

From somewhere in his mind, a lilting voice sang in his ears, Let yourself be loved by others.

Lady Cheri, what a weird time for your words to come to me! I don’t think that’s what you meant– actually, scratch that, that’s totally possibly entirely what you meant…!

But did he want this from Wolfram? Was this a form of love he was ready to accept? Was it wrong to have this if the other boy was offering? Well, the thought certainly wasn’t turning him off.

From a darker place, another voice called out to him.

Nothing will be the same.

Yuuri stayed silent, but he shakily removed his hands from in front of his pants. From underneath the blue fabric, there was a hard outline of his dick, his erection pointing upward toward the strings of his sweatpants. From next to him, he felt Wolfram shift in the bed, moving closer to the Maou. Quickly, Yuuri let his curiosity get the best of him as he tried to discern if the blonde was also in the same predicament he was in. With the way Wolfram was positioned, his nightgown had made it hard to determine what exactly was going on down there.

Wolfram was now kneeling in front of him on the bed, leaning forward, his delicate hand hesitantly outstretched toward the tent in Yuuri’s pants. The Maou closed his eyes and felt his heart pound wildly, in both a way that was equal parts enthralled and terrified. He could feel Wolfram’s hands so close to him, hovering right above the boy’s member. The anticipation made his cock ache with a longing he did not know existed within him.

Suddenly, the fingers were gone and Wolfram’s presence itself had vanished completely. Yuuri opened his tightened eyes in surprise, looking around for the blonde. Wolfram had left their bed and retreated to the chaise, his forehead pressed against the back of the chair. The blonde said nothing.

Yuuri also didn’t know what to say, and the unexpected turn of events with Wolfram pulling away had made the Maou feel the serrated stab of rejection. Consequently, it dampened the fiery feelings of arousal that had tormented Yuuri only moments earlier. All he could think of now to say was the boy’s name.

“Wolfram…”

“Forget it, Yuuri, just go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be busy and there is a lot that needs to be done.”

Almost robotically, Yuuri followed Wolfram’s orders. He pulled the covers over him and sharply shut his eyes.

Sleep, however, never came to him.

Sleep never came to Wolfram, either.

He sat in the chaise, head still buried in embarrassment. The only question Wolfram kept asking himself was why.

Why did he have to say that to Yuuri?

Why did Yuuri have a hard-on for him to begin with?

…and why did he feel happy about it all?

The nagging voice in his head returned to scold him.

Why do you want to ruin what you have between the two of you?

Wolfram didn’t want to ruin anything, but the fact that something else was there, right there, something that could be even better than how their relationship was now… well, who wouldn’t want that? At the same time, what if they could never go back to how they were? The boy’s selfishness battled with his ferocious devotion toward the Maou.

Why cause change?

Why not?

The most baffling thing about it all, besides Wolfram having the balls to even try to make a move on Yuuri, was the fact that Yuuri was going to let him.

It’s because of all this stress, right? That must be it. That guy Saralegui… there are parts of Yuuri that are broken now and are barely being held together, and it’s that monster’s fault. He doesn’t want me, he just wants to escape.

The mazoku wounded himself with his inner thoughts, heart wrenching over every word. Either way, Wolfram knew he could only do so much to help the Maou… but by Shinou, he would do anything Yuuri asked– anything.

With that being said, if Yuuri had actually asked, had told him to do something…

…well, then Wolfram would have.

For the better or for the worse, they would have changed.

Chapter Text

By the time Yuuri decided to leave the bed after a harrowingly sleepless night, the sun had only just started to creep over the horizon. He immediately noticed that Wolfram was nowhere to be found in the room, and was both impressed and saddened at his silent absence. When exactly did he manage to sneak out?

However, it was really an expected surprise– while the blonde was always second to rise in the morning, Yuuri could not blame him after their exchange last night.

At the thought, the Maou was flooded again with embarrassment. A tinge of hurt was mixed in there as well, stemming from Wolfram’s silent rejection of him.

Yuuri groaned and got dressed. He was tired, mentally and physically, but at this point it was not a new feeling for him. Either way, he told himself he wasn’t going to let that get in the way of his morning run.

The demon king continued with his daily routine, following the same path he usually took as he jogged along the castle grounds. His morning run was usually a time for him to center himself and ready his mind for whatever the day had prepared for him, but a new anxiety followed him that he could not fully shake off. At every corner, he kept anticipating flashes of golden blonde hair to appear.

What am I going to say to him?

Yuuri’s feet hit the ground harder and his pace quickened at the thought. He felt himself think again of his godfather and how he desperately missed his advice and comfort. In this situation, Conrad would surely know what to say to his younger brother– out of everyone in any world, it was him that knew Wolfram the best, the Maou figured.

When Yuuri reached the stables, he slowed down. It was his typical stopping point; after all, he liked to end his jog there so he could have some time with Ao. Dripping with sweat, he stepped inside the stable, breathing in the smell of hay and manure. He spotted a familiar bald head and gave a wave to Dacascos, who was hard at work filling the feeds for all of the horses, before heading over to Ao’s block. Yuuri stopped in front of her enclosure and reached through the bars to pet his faithful mare, who softly whinied in response.

“Morning, Ao,” he greeted, enjoying the velvety feel of her muzzle. “Maybe I’ll take you for a ride later, if the weather stays nice.”

As Yuuri continued to enjoy Ao’s company, a figure walking by paused in front of the open stable doors.

“Shibuya?”

Yuuri looked toward the figure at the entrance, before withdrawing his own hand from his mare and waving at them.

“Murata!”

The Maou quickly joined his friend. Together, the two of them sat on the bales of hay in front of the stables, watching the residents of Blood Pledge Castle busy about the start of their morning.

“You’re up pretty early, Shibuya.”

The baseball boy rubbed the back of his head, nervously smiling. “I guess I am, huh? But that means you are, too.”

“I’m up to do some things over at the temple,” Murata answered with a small shrug. He then studied Yuuri for a moment, before asking, “Are you still having trouble sleeping?”

“Nothing gets past you, does it, Muraken?”

“That’s true,” the Great Sage agreed. “But it’s not that hard to tell– you look like shit, Shibuya.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri replied flatly, rolling his eyes. Murata nudged him playfully.

“What happened to Lord von Bielefield? I heard he’s been helping you sleep. Is that not working anymore?”

The teasing comment dug into Yuuri more than it should have. His face must have shown it, because within moments Murata’s trademark smile was replaced with a frown.

“Oh? Did something happen between the two of you, Shibuya?” 

Yuuri faltered. “I mean… I guess.” He tried to think of the right words without being too descriptive of what actually transpired... he didn’t need to give Murata any fodder for future conversations. “We had a, uhm… disagreement?”

“Trouble in paradise,” the other lightheartedly said, nodding understandingly. “So, what happened? Is he mad at something you did?”

“I’m really not sure,” Yuuri said softly. “He might be– he may have thought that I did something to humiliate him… but I didn’t mean to.”

Murata raised an eyebrow but did not pry further. “Lord von Bielefield is a proud man, I’ll give you that. What are you planning to say to him?”

Yuuri’s head lowered, his eyes staring intensely at the dirt below. From above, gray clouds had rolled in, obscuring the earlier promise of the morning sun.

“I was just going to apologize to him, I guess.”

Murata shook his head. “Shibuya, why does it seem like the two of you are always apologizing to each other? If you did something, just take ownership of it. If it wasn’t meant to embarrass him, just explain why you did whatever it was you did.” Yuuri blinked, but hesitantly looked up at his friend. “I’m sure he would rather you do that. Again, he’s a proud man, but that also comes with being able to take whatever it is you have to say to him with dignity.”

“...I guess you’re right,” Yuuri admitted after a while. “You really are wise, huh?”

Murata gave a grin and shrugged. “That’s what people say. Speaking of…”

As if on cue, Wolfram had appeared on the grounds from across the stables. Greta was also with him, holding his hand and animatedly chatting to him about something. Something within Yuuri restlessly stirred.

“Lord von Bielefield! Hey!”

Murata’s voice carried across the courtyard, causing the blonde mazoku to look in the direction of both the black-haired boys. Upon seeing Murata and Yuuri, Wolfram and Greta changed their course and started toward them. The brown-haired girl had excitedly pulled ahead while Wolfram followed hesitantly in tow.

“Good morning, Yuuri! And Yuuri’s friend!”

The Maou’s nervousness, it seemed, unsurprisingly and instantly washed away as his daughter came over and grabbed his hand. Lovingly, he reached out and ruffled her hair with his free one. “Greta!”

Murata’s grin widened at the little girl. “Good morning to you, Shibuya’s daughter. And to you as well, Lord von Bielefield.”

“Good morning, Your Eminence– Yuuri,” Wolfram dully greeted them. The blonde also looked like he hadn’t slept, the state of his appearance noticeably less put together than normal.

“Hey, Wolf,” Yuuri responded, unable to look at him directly. Greta looked between her two fathers, quickly catching on to the awkwardness that hung in the air between them. Murata took notice as a puzzled expression crossed her face.

“Hey, Shibuya’s daughter– did you have breakfast yet?” The double-black sage inquired, wasting no time in standing up. “I hear Doria is making pancakes this morning. Wanna get some?”

Yuuri and Wolfram looked from Murata to their daughter, whose enthusiasm had returned to her innocent brown eyes.

“Greta loves pancakes!” She squealed and turned between both of her dads. “Will you come eat pancakes with us?”

Wolfram opened his mouth to respond, but Yuuri answered for both of them. “Soon, Greta. I need to talk to Wolf about something first, okay? Then we’ll join you.”

Their daughter hummed happily and followed Murata toward the dining hall, leaving the royal couple alone by the stables. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“Wolfram–”

“Yuuri, we don’t have to talk about it,” the blonde said stiffly, emerald eyes cast aside. “I was out of line last night. I’m sorry.”

Wolfram’s apology bitterly sank in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach. Ah– now he realized what Murata meant.

“I– I don’t want you to apologize,” Yuuri nervously started, willing himself to look at the other, who seemed slightly taken aback by the Maou’s words. “I, uhm… If you feel like I embarrassed you, I didn’t mean to. I really wasn’t trying to, by, you know...” The black-haired boy continued to stumble over his words, pink flushing clear across his face. He took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to find his resolve in what he wanted to say to the blonde. “There’s a lot going on, but last night, I… wasn’t messing with you. I, uhm… was serious.”

Only silence followed Yuuri’s confession, accompanied by the occasional whinny that could be heard from one of the horses in the stable or growl of thunder somewhere in the distance. Finally, he chanced a look at the other. Wolfram was still staring at him, wordlessly. Yuuri couldn’t read the expression in the other’s deep eyes.

Yuuri kept talking, his cheeks burning. “I-if it made you uncomfortable… then I’ll apologize for that, but that’s it.”

“...I see.”

Wolfram’s short response made the black-haired boy’s mind whirl.

Oh no. No, no, no– I fucked it, didn’t I?

The Maou tensed up. Suddenly, he was breathless, dizzy; from the corners of his vision, blackness began to swarm around him.

“Yuuri.”

I shouldn’t have gotten sucked into it. I fucked it all up. Now–

A hand landed on Yuuri’s shoulder, suspending the venom in his head.

“Hey, Yuuri!” 

The black-haired boy looked up at the blonde’s quiet yet urgent plea, his dark eyes still trying to regain full focus of the other in front of him.

“I need you to breathe.”

Shakily, the demon king inhaled. His mouth felt incredibly dry.

Wolfram bent down and grabbed the other’s elbows with his own hands; effortlessly, he pulled Yuuri up from where he was sitting and straightened him so that they were finally both eye level with each other. The blonde, however, did not immediately let go; he could feel the black-haired boy trembling under the other’s grip.

“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Do you think I’m upset with you?”

Inhale.

Exhale.

The Maou lightly shook his head, continuing to follow the breathing directions in his head. Whenever he needed to hear them, they always manifested themselves in the style of the blonde mazoku’s pretty voice.

In a steadier voice, Yuuri said, “No, not exactly. I guess I just… I don’t want things to change between us, Wolf.”

Wolfram frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Like, change for the worse,” he clarified quietly, finding his breathing coming much steadier now. “You’re my best friend, and I need you– especially now.”

“Why do you think anything would change for the worse?” There was a sadness that rang behind the blonde’s question that Yuuri could not ignore.

“I-I don’t know,” the black-haired boy replied. He took another breath in, a sigh forming following the exhale. “I think I’m just… I’m just afraid of losing you.” Admittedly, Yuuri didn't know how much he meant those words until they escaped his own lips. He felt himself swallow back a lump that suddenly rose in his throat, trying to suppress a surprise of tears that had begun to swell in his eyes.

Wolfram stepped in toward the Maou, reaching a finger up to wipe back a tear. “You won’t lose me, Yuuri. I promised you that, didn’t I? That I would be here for you, no matter what?” The blonde’s face was much closer than before, Yuuri suddenly realized. He looked so serious, too. Those green eyes reflected an intensity that enveloped Yuuri in a way that silenced the doubt in his head.

“Yeah,” he breathed. His own dark eyes were taking in all of Wolfram, bit by bit.

“What is it?” The mazoku asked, but he was starting to know what that look on the Maou’s face meant regardless. It was a look that stirred up all different thoughts and emotions within the blonde.

Despite himself, Yuuri smiled. “I… I was just thinking about how much of a hypocrite I can be.” 

Wolfram moved in more toward the Maou. Thunder rumbled closer.

“Wolf, I don’t… I’m afraid of change, but…”

“But?”

“...I, uhm, still mean it… from last night.”

Wolfram continued to hold the other’s gaze. “And I meant what I said, too.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched in his throat and a new wave of heat returned to his cheeks. 

Another clap of thunder boomed overhead, the sky opened up and rain poured down onto the grounds of Blood Pledge Castle. It broke the royal couple out of their conversation, and they both moved in closer toward the walls of the stable, seeking cover under the shelter of the roof’s edges. 

Yuuri stood silently pressed against the wall, his mind replaying the other’s words.

He then felt a hand in his. The Maou looked at Wolfram, who was standing shoulder to shoulder with him and staring out toward the crying sky.

“I love you.”

Yuuri watched the other say the words. He had heard the blonde say it a few dozen times, but this time– something about it was absolute, cutting through as clear as possible amidst the heavy drops of rain.

“I love you, Yuuri. I will do anything for you, not only because it is my duty as a soldier to you, but because I am your fiance. I want to make you happy and keep you safe from all the bad things happening,” Wolfram continued, squeezing the other’s hands tighter. “My feelings for you will not change– there’s nothing you could do that would make you lose me.” He bit down on his lower lip. “Last night– I don’t want to do anything that will make you… change your mind about me. I’m here for you and the last thing I would want is for you to find a reason to be uncomfortable around me.” A bitter chuckle followed his own words. “I kind of shot myself in the foot with that one, though, right? I shouldn’t have left this morning without talking to you.”

The black-haired boy absorbed the other’s words, slowly understanding why the blonde reacted the way he did the previous night. Wolfram’s affirmation shed some of the tension from Yuuri’s shoulders and brought a small smile to his face. With a renewed confidence, he squeezed the other’s hand back.

“Thanks for talking with me, Wolf… this helped. I don’t ever want you to not be close to me…” Yuuri dug his heel into the mud mindlessly. “That’s kinda embarrassing to admit, I guess, but it’s true.”

They stood like that for a few more minutes, hand in hand, eyes still entranced on the downpour in front of them. The silence this time sat comfortably, an even stronger understanding of each other cemented between them.

Wolfram was the one to break it, the thunder in the background becoming further and further away. “I suppose we should head inside, soon. I don’t want you getting sick from this weather.”

Yuuri nudged him. “...Do you just want pancakes, Wolf?”

Wolfram sheepishly looked away. “Two things can be true at the same time.”

“If that’s the case,” Yuuri started, releasing the other’s hand from his own. He took a step away from the barn. “You’ll have to beat me there before I eat them all.” 

In a full sprint, the demon king then took off into the rain and across the courtyard.

“H-hey, Yuuri! Wait!” Wolfram called after him. He hesitated before also charging into the downpour, trailing the sound of Yuuri’s laugh as it rang in the spaces between the raindrops.

Chapter Text

Before anyone knew it, the day before Shou Shimaron’s arrival had come.

Over the past month, things had continued more or less like normal. Yuuri kept up with his duties, whether it was overseeing preparations or being dragged into meetings after meetings to best prepare himself for the fateful day. Gwendal and Gunter had worked hard to brief the young demon king on things like the history, cultural traditions, economic climate, and cabinet of advisers of the visiting country.

Unsurprisingly, Yuuri’s anxiety remained present, although some days were better than others. The demon king made it a point to meet with Cheri every now and again; in all honesty, Yuuri felt that she was the only one who could really understand what he had been feeling. Talking with the previous Demon Queen always made him feel a little better, and she was always more than willing to share more ideas with how to cope with the darkness he still lived with.

Surprisingly, though, while his anxiety remained consistent, the demon king’s sleeping patterns had improved. Whether it was because Yuuri had taken some more of Cheri’s coping strategies to heart or whether it was because of another certain blonde, however, he did not know. 

Even though the two had reconciled and found themselves closer than ever, nothing had progressed further since their talk in the rain. Still, Yuuri often caught himself staring at the blonde, whether it was during a briefing, over breakfast, or as they were getting ready for bed. He found himself looking at how full the boy’s fair eyelashes were or how the tips of his fingers turned a faint pink whenever they got cold at night. He became hyper aware of how close he stood to the other or the way the other’s chest rose and fell against him as they slept. More and more, the spaces of Yuuri’s wandering mind had become host to thoughts solely of Wolfram. It had helped to push back some of the perseverations around Saralegui’s visit.

Wolfram, on the other hand, was trying to not think more about his fiancé than he already did. Since that night, the blonde had been fighting off an endless plague of inner turmoil. Every time he looked at the Maou, all he wanted to do was to hold him close and take what was his– he supposed his desires had gotten more persistent since Yuuri had admitted to being open to him. However, Wolfram could not bring himself to act on it, not even when he would catch the other boy staring longingly at him as they went to bed. The most he did was sleep close to the black-haired boy at night, allowing their fingers to intertwine or the other’s arms to wrap solely around him.

As a good soldier, however, Wolfram continued to tell himself it was his duty to protect his beloved king. The blonde’s resolve to put Yuuri above anything greatly outranked any of his own personal desires, and he always knew it would be that way. Plus, he knew he had to remain extra vigilant– Shou Shimaron was about to appear at the gates of Shin Makoku, and Wolfram knew Yuuri needed all the support he could get.

On the day before Saralegui’s arrival, Yuuri had been called away to a final fitting for the regalia he was to wear during the night of the ball. Wolfram had wanted to follow him but Greta had decidedly distracted him with one of her traps. By the time Wolfram was finished watching Greta’s trap in action and being a mixture of both impressed and terrified at what his daughter had created, he realized he had no idea exactly where Yuuri was for his dressing. Presently, he muttered in dissatisfaction to himself and wandered down the halls, hoping a door would magically appear and lead him straight to his fiancé.

As he continued to mindlessly pace about, a voice called out to him.

“Lord von Bielefeld!”

Wolfram was shaken out of his own world, only to look up and at the double-black sage walking toward him. Slightly annoyed by the intrusion, the blonde flatly asked, “Do you need something?”

Murata stopped in front of him with a grin. “No need to be so polite,” he teased, putting a hand on his hip. “Anyways, you were just the person I was looking for.”

Wolfram’s brows furrowed. He felt like his big brother. “Oh?”

“Come, let’s walk and talk, fiancé of my friend,” Murata linked one of his arms through Wolfram’s own and dragged the other in step with him. The blonde stumbled at first but quickly matched the other’s stride, straightening up and eyeing the bespeckled boy warily. “How are things going with Shibuya?”

“...Fine. Why?” Wolfram wondered what the other was playing at. “What, did he say something to you?”

“No, not exactly,” Murata coolly responded. “You can just say I’m a curious party.”

“Hmph. Are you asking this as the Great Sage or as Yuuri’s friend?”

The black-haired sage shrugged. “Both, I suppose.” He glanced sideways at the blonde and grinned. “Hey, how far have you and Shibuya gone?”

Wolfram immediately turned pink, unceremoniously spluttering in surprise.

“E-excuse me?!”

“I said–”

“I heard what you said!”

“...so what have the two of you done together?”

Still flustered, Wolfram snapped at the boy. “In what lifetime is that any of your business, Your Eminence?!”

Murata innocently cocked his head. “I suppose this one, as it is my job to help Shibuya.”

“And how would any of that information help Yuuri?!”

“Well, before you rip my head off, fiancé of my friend, hear me out. Saralegui will be here tomorrow and Shibuya’s already stuck in his head– we can only imagine what is going to happen when they meet again,” Murata started. His expression was hard to read, obscured by the afternoon daylight that reflected off of his glasses. “I suppose anything could happen, but the outlook right now is… not positive. I don’t want Shibuya or this country to be in jeopardy because of his own mind-jail.” He slowed to a halt, Wolfram following suit. “We need something to break him out of his thoughts. Some sort of morale booster, so to say.”

Wolfram did not like where this was going. He pointed to himself. “So you want me to distract him?” 

The Great Sage gave an energetic thumbs up. “Exactly!”

“Hmph,” Wolfram crossed his arms indignantly. Green eyes looked the other up and down. “If you haven’t noticed, that’s all I have been trying to do. As you can see, it’s not exactly working, Your Eminence .”

Murata defensively put his hands up at the last dripping jab the mazoku verbally aimed at him. “In all fairness, I suppose I was maybe rash in what I said– you have been helping him.” The other lowered his hands and smiled. “If I think about it, I guess the reason Shibuya hasn’t completely spiraled is really all because of you, Lord von Bielefeld.”

The blonde blinked in surprise at the genuine compliment. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “...anyways. What are you thinking, then?”

“To help Shibuya, I believe there is one way,” he said assuredly. “You need to take your relationship to the next level.”

As soon as he let the words escape, Murata had to clamp his hand over Wolfram’s mouth to stop him from erupting again. A guard nearby worriedly looked at the pair; in response, Murata sent a reassuring wave with his other hand.

Meanwhile, the blonde was fully pink, shaking against the other’s stifling palms, his fists clenched.

“Fiancé of my friend, now hear me out again– I don’t want to involve myself any more than I have to, but I think this would be good for Shibuya. For both of you, really.” The double-black sage’s smile dropped and his face became serious. “You are a welcome distraction for him. From what I’ve seen, I think you would be enough to help get Shibuya together for Saralegui… you could help ground him.”

“Mhmphfh.”

“Ah, sorry,” Murata apologized. “If I remove my hand, will you promise not to yell at me?”

“Mmpfh.”

The Great Sage slowly retracted his palm.

“I am NOT–”

Murata’s hand promptly returned to Wolfram’s mouth. The blonde made a frustrated noise against the other’s palm and dug his heel into the ground.

“Please, Lord von Bielefeld, a little quieter.”

Wolfram inhaled deeply through his nose. The black haired boy again let his hand fall away from the other’s face.

“ I said , I am not whoring myself out at the request of the Great Sage!”

“Ssh! And that’s hurtful, fiancé of my friend! To both myself and sex workers,” Murata said matter-of-factly, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you to do that. Also, sex workers wouldn’t appreciate that language. I would know– well, my soul would know, anyways. In my last iteration–”

“Stop, stop,” Wolfram cut in, holding his hand out desperately. “I don’t want to hear any more details of that. I just…” He sighed in frustration again, the hand in front of him dropping back to his side in a fist. He bit his lip. In a lower voice, he continued. “I just don’t know if he’s ready. With all of this Saralegui stuff, would it distract him? Or would he just overthink it and make things worse…?”

“I think you’re the one overthinking it, Lord von Bielefeld,” the other responded. “I believe what Shibuya needs the most right now is a different kind of comfort only you can give.” The Great Sage brought both of his hands up behind his head, interlocking his fingers together. “That’s all I wanted to say. Again, unlike one person I know, I don’t like directly meddling in peoples’ business… but at the same time, I felt like you have been waiting for someone to push you a little.” Murata winked playfully at the other. “Literally and figuratively.”

Wolfram just stared at the ground, his deep green eyes lost in inner reflection.

“Anyways, I would appreciate it if you consider what I’m saying, if only a bit.”

With that, the double-black sage left with a wave, leaving Wolfram alone with his swirling thoughts.

During dinner, it was no secret what was on the demon king’s mind. Everyone could tell, but no one knew what to say to alleviate the tense cloud that hung over them. As such, they had all eaten dinner quietly. It felt like the last meal before a decisive battle amidst a grueling war.

If there was any conversation, it came from Günter waxing on about how wonderful Yuuri was and how great the Demon Kingdom would be in the eyes of the visitors. No one really engaged or interrupted the beautiful adviser, but let him talk aloud to himself among the clinks of the silver dinnerware. Wolfram was not particularly paying attention to anything Günter was saying, but he did take notice of feeling Murata’s dark eyes on him throughout most of the meal.

When dinner was over, Wolfram and Yuuri made their way back to their room. The demon king trailed behind the other at a slower pace; both of them were aware that each physical step they took was also a figurative one closer toward tomorrow. 

It’s going to be a long night, Wolfram thought, glancing behind him. As they continued their walk, Wolfram stopped by the kitchen to sneak two bottles of red wine to bring up with them.

“I’m gonna go for a bath,” Yuuri tiredly announced once they closed the door to their room.

Wolfram nodded. “I’ll be on the terrace, then.”

The blonde effortlessly uncorked one of the bottles, bringing it, along with a single gold-rimmed stemmed glass, outside with him in the cool shade of night. While Yuuri bathed, Wolfram sat in the same reflective silence he had eaten his dinner in. His mind tried to conjure ways to help the Maou amidst fake scenarios that continued to pop up, doggedly thinking of how he could protect Yuuri from the inevitability that was Saralegui.

There is one way.

The Great Sage’s words echoed around him. Wolfram tried to shake the voice away, but he felt his heart pound faster regardless.

He had finished most of the bottle by himself by the time Yuuri was done with his bath. The Maou walked out onto the terrace to join the other boy, dressed in the comfort of his pajamas; gracelessly, he slumped into one of the seats across from Wolfram at the small patio table. He buried his head in his arms that were folded on top of the table and mumbled something.

“What was that?” Wolfram asked, swirling the red liquid around in his glass.

Yuuri struggled to lift his head. “I said, you’re already almost done with that bottle?”

The blonde shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“Does that stuff actually taste good?” Yuuri inquired, intently watching the other as he lifted the glass to his lips.

After taking a sip of his wine, he considered the other’s question. “I mean, I think so– but it’s not for everyone.” He looked at Yuuri, before slowly pushing the glass toward him. “Did you want to try? I’ll warn you, it’s not sweet.”

The demon king eyed the glass seriously, his dark brows narrowing a bit in contemplation.

“Screw it,” Yuuri finally said after a while, reaching toward the glass. Hesitantly, he brought the rim to his lips and took a sip of the wine. Almost immediately, he made a face.

“I told you it’s not for everyone,” Wolfram repeated, smiling weakly.

Yuuri’s grimace remained. “Why do people drink this stuff?”

“There are a few reasons, but probably most people drink it to not think.”

“On second thought,” the Maou started, reconsidering Wolfram’s words. “Let me have another taste.” The blonde watched as his fiancé suffered through sips, eventually downing the rest of what was inside the glass.

Wolfram frowned. This was the same Yuuri who adamantly harped on not drinking alcohol because it would get in the way of his baseball career by stunting his growth. As far as Wolfram was concerned, the demon king was not someone whose moral ideals could easily be changed. If Yuuri was willing to give up on such a belief he felt so strongly about, the blonde couldn’t help but hear the alarm bells go off in his head.

You could help ground him.

“Yuuri…”

“Ah, sorry Wolf– I didn’t mean to finish your drink.”

“No, it’s not that,” he said, fidgeting in his seat. His mind kept battling Murata’s words, but the more and more they replayed in his head, he hated to admit the more and more they made sense.

Inwardly agitated, Wolfram stood up, moving toward the balcony’s railing.

The Maou looked up at the other’s abrupt movement. “Huh, Wolf? What’s wrong?” Yuuri asked from his seat, chin resting in his palm.

The blonde drew a sharp breath. Maybe the wine had indeed gotten the better of him again; all he could think about was how right it all seemed, how it felt like maybe Shinou himself had orchestrated this very moment…

Wolfram definitively turned toward Yuuri. The demon king was partly looking at him and partly looking past him at the night sky beyond. Wolfram noted that he looked a little older, musing that this whole ordeal had in some ways aged the black-haired boy. For the blonde, it was not a bad thing; it gave an impression of a more mature Yuuri, one who had come into himself and his role as king. 

While the black-haired boy may have looked tired and a little lost in thought, he was still always handsome to Wolfram. His dark hair and eyes continued to draw the mazoku in, its blackness rich in elegance and intrigue. He watched as Yuuri pushed his dark bangs away from his face, his slightly damp hair still drying in the night air. Yuuri finally took notice that the other was still gazing at him intently and offered a smile. At that, Wolfram was not able to ignore how the warmth in the other’s eyes made him want to completely melt on the spot.

He knew what he had to do.

Wolfram’s cheeks instinctively flushed, and his heart began to pound before he even opened his mouth.

“Come here,” Wolfram gently commanded, gesturing toward him.

The demon king made an inquisitive hum but still stood up. “What, am I in trouble for drinking your wine?” He joked, moving to stand in front of Wolfram.

“Yuuri,” the blonde breathed, his voice less steady than he would have liked. One of Wolfram’s arms gracefully snaked itself around Yuuri’s lower back, drawing his body close, while his other hand reached under to tilt the Maou’s chin slightly upward.

Yuuri only blinked, his body willfully obeying the movements of the other. All that could escape his mouth was a faint “Eh?”

Deep pools of emerald met chasms of black, the pairs locking together powerfully, a silent and soulful conversation shared between them in that moment.

“I love you, but things can’t stay the way they are.”

Wolfram’s fair lashes fluttered shut as he pulled Yuuri in toward him. In one movement, he pressed his lips gingerly against the other’s. His movements met no resistance, the black-haired boy’s body obediently following along. Yuuri’s lips were warm but slightly rigid, gradually relaxing against Wolfram’s mouth as the kiss prolonged.

After a few more moments, Wolfram moved away from the kiss. His eyes opened and he looked at Yuuri. The boy had a dazed sort of look about him as he brought his finger up to where Wolfram’s own lips had been seconds ago. Reflexively, the blonde stiffened. Fire began to run across his skin.

Did I - did I really do that?!

Yuuri’s lack of discernible expression wasn’t helping Wolfram’s thoughts any. All he wanted to do now was to jump off the balcony and hide. What do I do now?! What should I say?!

Just as the mazoku was coming up with something, anything to say to the other, Yuuri looked directly at him and met his gaze again. Those dark eyes made Wolfram’s searing heart freeze. He was unable to move but watched as the demon king lifted his hand away from his face, now extending it toward Wolfram’s own. The Maou’s fingers reached out and touched the blonde’s face, thumb gently moving across his flushed cheek.

The 27th Demon King pulled his fiancé in for another kiss.

“Come here.”

Yuuri didn’t think twice about the order and moved to stand in front of the blonde prince. He thought the other boy was acting stranger than normal, but Yuuri was willing to blame it on the wine for Wolfram’s sake. At any rate, it was amusing to him– it was a nice distraction from what was inside his head.

“Yuuri.”

The way the mazoku had said his name caught his attention. It was breathy, vulnerable– Yuuri liked how it sounded on the other’s tongue, but the way he said it suddenly made him nervous. He swallowed at the thought.

Before Yuuri was able to realize what was happening, Wolfram had drawn him in, his strong hand wrapping around the demon king’s waist. The blonde’s beautiful fingers lifted his chin, directing Yuuri’s eyes straight into Wolfram’s own.

“Eh?”

Their gaze became intensely interlocked, those emerald eyes endlessly sucking him in. They were deep pools of green–

– like the bottom of a lake.

“I love you, but things can't stay the way they are.”

With that, Wolfram had pulled him into a kiss.

Everything crashed down on him in a wave of surprise. Yuuri felt his body being swept into the blonde, felt as his lips were gracefully guided toward Wolfram’s own. The first thing that came to the Maou’s mind was how unexpectedly soft the other’s lips were; along with that, they were warm, inviting– everything he had secretly imagined. Suddenly, he was being pulled down by a current that had been struggling against for a long time.

However, Yuuri didn’t want to fight it anymore.

The demon king closed his eyes and allowed himself to melt into the feeling of his fiancé’s mouth.

When the kiss ended, Yuuri blinked and took in the blonde, who now resembled something of a glowing statue. His pale face was flushed again, pink staining everywhere from his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

Yuuri had admittedly fantasized about this moment, about what kissing Wolfram would be like. He always imagined that once it happened, his mind would be a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, being unable to pick up the pieces scattered around him. 

That, however, was not the case.

The Maou’s mind was surprisingly at peace. There was a strong sense of serenity that surged through him. The light that was planted on his lips began to pulse inward and ripple through his body. It was a calming, tingling warmth that the black-haired boy decidedly began to crave more of.

Yuuri reached for Wolfram’s face, his calloused fingers caressing the other’s delicate cheek. He brought his own face closer to the pretty blonde and closed the space between them again. The demon king was not as confident with his own experience and was more careful in how he positioned his mouth on the other’s; however, once they met, the unease ceased in his mind. Feeling the softness and fullness of Wolfram’s lips against his own, Yuuri let the light wash over him, basking in the wonders of the other’s touch.

Ah, there was something similar yet wildly different about this feeling.

Pure sunshine.

No. It was more than that.

Eyes closed, Yuuri imagined himself being engulfed in the inviting flames of a fire, as the two  of them continued to press deeply into each others’ kiss. 

Chapter Text

My eyes open up to darkness all around me.

Except it is not an impenetrable darkness that obscures my vision, but a darkness that my eyes adjust to moment by moment.

I feel strangely calm. An invisible warmth rests against my skin. 

I push the panic down and it obediently settles at my feet.

A voice speaks into my ear, level and comforting.

What do you see?

Light leaks from the voice and my vision brightens more.

I start to see shapes, begin to make out the old cracked stone walls on either side of me.

Good, Yuuri. What do you hear?

The slight sound of water trickles around me.

What can you smell?

Wet earth– I swallow and feel the reflux kick in.

Taste?

Bile in my throat.

What do you feel, Yuuri?

My lips are incredibly dry. A chill runs through me.

Tunnel. I’m in the tunnel.

The panic awakes with a languid stretch and begins to crawl up my legs, leaving me paralyzed.

Where is he?

Do you hear that?

A giggle echoes from the depths of the end of the tunnel behind me, one that I am more than familiar with. I can make out a pair of golden eyes coming out of the darkness.

The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand up.

The water, Yuuri.

The water.

It trickles faintly in my ear still.

Follow it.

I follow the sound of the water further forward. As I keep moving, the water becomes louder and louder until it is practically crashing against my ears. I arrive at a giant whirlpool, fueled by the water rushing down the sides of the crumbling walls.

I step forward but hesitate. My stomach swirls like the vortex in front of me.

The voice returns.

It will be okay, Yuuri.

The golden eyes are moving toward me.

I get closer to the edge and feel the air from the whirlpool brush against my face. Looking down, I can see a faint glow of light miraculously lurking beneath the surface of the dark waters.

Yuuri.

“Yuuri.”

I jump in and let the whirlpool take me.

Chapter Text

All around Blood Pledge Castle, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

In fact, it seemed like it was turning out to be the nicest day of the month, by far. A light breeze that made its presence known now and again, cooling down the warmth of the midday sun. The gardens looked particularly lush and green, their plethora of colorful petals smiling happily upward. 

The residents of the castle were so enraptured with the beauty of the weather, all going about their business joyfully. They were all so blissfully unaware that they had failed to hear something that faintly sounded like “bad omen” cry out from the sunny sky. One person, however, did notice. The Maou was especially apprehensive and attuned to the smallest noises around him on this particular day.

“Did you hear that?” Yuuri asked, peering over his shoulder as he followed his white-haired mentor through the castle’s courtyard. To say the demon king was on edge was a massive understatement.

After all, today was finally the day of Saralegui’s arrival.

Günter continued his pace through the courtyard, but looked back to answer the Maou with a smile, “Your Majesty has wonderful ears, as I did not hear that. What was it?”

Yuuri looked up at the clear sky, using one hand to shield his eyes from the direct sunlight. “Nevermind,” he muttered dejectedly, dragging his feet behind him. “What are we doing now, again? Aren’t they going to be here soon?”

“The delegation from Shou Shimaron is set to arrive in four hours,” Günter stated smoothly. “Right now, you are to briefly meet with Gwendal to again review the profile of the foreign dignitaries traveling with King Saralegui. Afterwards, you will meet with me to practice for one last time the customary greeting of Shou Shimaron and review gestures that are to be absolutely avoided. Lord von Bielefeld and Lady Cecilia will then help you and His Eminence get dressed with the appropriate regalia before we head to the throne room and wait for our guests.”

Günter was always a super thorough person, wasn’t he? The thought left the demon king feeling both appreciative yet exhausted.

Before long, the two of them were standing in front of Gwendal’s office. Yuuri had been here a lot the past few days, way more than he had wanted to.

“Remember, once your meeting with Lord von Voltaire is over, please come directly to my study. We do not have a lot of time to waste.” 

“I understand– right to you after I meet with Gwendal!” Yuuri repeated, giving a half-hearted thumbs-up.

The white-haired man started to step away, but paused. “Your Majesty, have you seen Lord von Bielefeld, by chance?”

At the mention of his fiancé's name, the black-haired boy’s cheeks colored. “Uh… not lately,” he said, his hands fidgeting at his side. Yuuri had last seen the blonde sound asleep in their bed before he awoke, cocooned under a mass of blankets. And before that… 

At the thought of the previous night, the Maou’s lips began to tingle and his body warmed. He made an involuntary noise in the back of his throat.

Günter raised a fine eyebrow at his king’s reaction at first, but then nodded courteously. “Very well, Your Majesty. I will see you soon.”

There were less than two hours before the Shou Shimaron diplomatic party were to arrive at Blood Pledge Castle.

Wolfram had already dressed himself in his most formal military attire and done his hair. Unequivocally, he wanted to look his best today; not only were looks and overall first impressions generally important, but he wanted to make sure he appeared extra put together in the presence of Saralegui. The mazoku wanted to be as impressive as he could, believing that if he was he would maybe intimidate the shinzoku. 

Presently, Wolfram and his mother had been waiting in one of the drawing rooms for Yuuri to finish his final briefings, as they were both tasked with helping the Maou get ready. Cheri was idly gussying herself up in one of the larger rectangular mirrors that hung in the room. Wolfram, however, had taken to straightening the bouquets that were arranged on the small side tables. The gardeners had placed vases of local flora from both nations throughout the castle as another welcome favor. Familiar flowers like Beautiful Wolfram, Secret Gwendal, and Conrart Stands Upon the Earth were intermixed with the bright purples and reds of the Shou Shimaron ones. The blonde boy was mindfully repositioning an askew Yuuri’s Innocence when the door swung open.

A frazzled Günter suddenly stumbled into the room, followed by a much calmer Murata Ken.

“Your Excellency!” Günter gasped.

“Ah, Günter, there you are. Where is Yuuri? Mother and I are ready for him,” Wolfram said, oblivious to the tears that had begun to well in the royal adviser’s violet eyes.

Murata took it upon himself to step forward and offer an explanation as Günter worked to catch his breath. “Well, you see, Lord von Bielefeld… we don’t exactly know where Shibuya is.”

Wolfram turned away from Murata and cast a burning glare at Günter. “WHAT? You lost him?!”

The white-haired man began to cry, his trademark GünGün juices flowing out of his orifices. “H-His Majesty must h-hate Günter!! I told him to come see me after his meeting with Gwendal, b-but… he… ran away instead!” The steady stream of sobs and snot continued. Even Günter’s beauty could not save him from looking like a complete disaster.

Murata tried to step in between the snarling Wolfram and wailing Günter. “It’s less like Lord von Christ losing Shibuya and more like Shibuya just… not showing up. It’s certainly unlike him.” The black-haired boy pushed up his glasses, smiling sheepishly at the blonde mazoku. “...but given the circumstances of today, it is not surprising. Lord von Bielefeld, we were wondering if you’d know where he may have run off to. The guards already checked your room, but he’s not there.”

Wolfram’s hackles lowered at the Great Sage’s words, and he forced himself to take a breath through his nose to fully cool down. He placed his hand thoughtfully under his chin. “I’m not exactly sure where he is… but I believe I can find him. You said he was with Big Brother beforehand?”

Through a mess of tears, Günter managed a barely intelligible “yes.”

A part of him had an inkling of where the Maou had disappeared to. Without hesitation, the blonde mazoku left the drawing room and headed down the closest hall that led to his Big Brother’s study. Wolfram’s brown boot heels clicked steadily against the carpet, echoing alone down the hallway. However, he soon had become cognizant of another pair of boots heading toward him in the hall that ran perpendicular to the one he was walking down. 

Wolfram approached the intersection of the hall and rounded the corner, only to almost run into a… wall? No, it was definitely a person.

In fact, it was his Big Brother. A perfect coincidence.

The black-haired mazoku stared intensely down at his blonde younger brother. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping His Majesty get ready?”

Wolfram subconsciously straightened his posture. “We’re looking for him right now. Did he say anything to you at the end of your meeting?”

Gwendal’s frown intensified. “No. Why don’t you know where he is?”

“Günter lost him. He never showed up to meet with von Christ after talking with you.”

Wolfram’s older brother stepped dangerously closer to him, which caused him to shrink back. The dark-haired mazoku jabbed his pointer finger toward the blonde’s chest. “Günter didn’t lose him– you lost him. Isn’t it your job to follow and protect the Maou? Why were you not with him to begin with?”

Why weren’t you with him?

It was a valid question… but how was Wolfram supposed to face him after that ?

Wolfram felt his cheeks burn. He lowered his eyes in front of his brother.

“...You are right, Big Brother. I’ll find him.”

The blonde peeled away from the taller man, continuing his path toward Gwendal’s office. As  he walked on, Wolfram bit down on the inside of his cheek as his brother’s words continued to burn inside his brain.

Gwendal’s right. I’m being childish. Last night was fine– more than fine– but still…

Wolfram’s fingers inadvertently moved to rest on his bottom lip.

Wolfram had kissed Yuuri– and what was more, Yuuri had kissed him back.

The pair had shared that intimate moment on the balcony last night. After, they had gone to bed innocently enough, exchanging nervous giggles and a few more kisses. Wolfram had woken up before Yuuri in the morning, and he soon found himself flooded with delayed embarrassment about the fact that he had made the first move. When he felt Yuuri stir next to him, he had frantically pulled the blankets over him, his mind unable to process how to now greet the boy next to him in bed. Thus, Wolfram had pathetically waited in the heap of blankets until the Maou had gotten up and left the room. 

Even though Wolfram had thought himself into a panic, there of course was a layer of elation that stirred wildly within. Yuuri had kissed him.

And as happy and frantic as Wolfram was, there was a part of him that was also annoyed at the Great Sage. It bothered the blonde that Murata was not wrong about any of the things they had talked about. It also bothered the blonde that Murata was what got Wolfram to muster up the courage to do something in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Wolfram muttered under his breath. Now all I need to do is man up and …

And what?

His brows scrunched in thought, first, and then in confusion– was it really that simple?

Move forward.

At the thought, a swarm of butterflies were set loose in the blonde’s stomach. The simple idea was as equally nerve wracking as it was exciting.

With a new fire lit within him, Wolfram continued down the hall. He kicked his soldier instincts into gear and tried to put himself into Yuuri’s shoes. He scanned the hallway. 

The blonde continued to mumble to himself. “Think, Wolfram, think… that wimp must have been feeling nervous after meeting with Big Brother. Knowing Yuuri, he probably tried to go to Günter, so something must have happened between now and then…”

From Gwendal’s office, Wolfram then started down the path that would lead to Günter’s study, trying to retrace the Maou’s footsteps. He must have been on his way… maybe he just freaked out?

The thought was not impossible.

Wolfram walked down the long hallway, inspecting any nooks he came across for any sign of his fiancé. He was starting to get disheartened as the door to Günter’s office came into sight, but instantly became reinvigorated when he saw a nondescript closet door off to the side slightly ajar. 

Gently, Wolfram’s thin fingers pried the door open further. Behind the door was, much to his relief, Yuuri. The black-haired boy was leaning upright against one of the walls of the closet, staring up into the darkness of the ceiling. Upon the intrusion of light into the small space, only Yuuri’s eyes moved to see who had disturbed his isolation. Wolfram noticed that his eyes were red and swollen, a clear indicator of what he had been doing before the blonde found him. 

“Hey,” the Maou said, his voice strained.

Wolfram stepped into the closet and pulled the door most of the way shut behind him. Only a thin strip of light was illuminated between them, particles of dust dancing in the space. The mazoku positioned himself in front of the other boy and tenderly placed both of his hands on his shoulders.

“Yuuri,” Wolfram started, his voice initially sympathetic at his fiancé's current state. 

However, the blonde willed himself to think about the bigger picture at hand. He lowered his voice with a more serious edge.

“You’ve got to get it together.” Wolfram knew his words were not the most compassionate, but they all needed Yuuri to be the Maou in this moment. He knew that Yuuri knew it was the truth, too. With his voice still low, he continued, “That man will be here soon and we can’t have our King like this. I don’t want you like this.” The blonde’s deep green eyes shone with an empathetic sadness. “Saralegui can’t– he won’t see you like this. He’d love it. He’d use it against you.”

Quietly, Yuuri conceded, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. “I know, Wolf.” An inaudible sigh escaped the Maou’s lips. “I just don’t know what happened. After talking with Gwendal, I was walking to see Günter, and just… I don’t know. All of a sudden, my body decided it needed to hide or something.” Yuuri ran one his own hands through his dark hair. “Believe it or not, I thought I’d be okay today. At least I tried to convince myself of that, anyway.”

“You will be okay,” Wolfram softly reaffirmed. “Remember, we’re all here for you.” After a few moments of silence, the blonde added, much softer, “...well, I know I wasn’t here for you today. I...” The blonde-haired boy loosened his hold on the other. Wolfram’s fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket. “I, uhm… I didn’t know how to face you this morning.” His voice then dropped to an inaudible whisper. “I… I was nervous.”

Yuuri removed his own hand from his hair and let it drop to his sides. He looked thoughtfully at the other before speaking. “Is that true?”

Wolfram cast his gaze sideways. “Yes.”

At that, an unexpected sound arose from the demon king. Wolfram’s green eyes snapped back toward Yuuri.

Yuuri was laughing.

In response, Wolfram only could blink.

“...Yuuri?”

The Maou’s short-lived laughter subsided and he used his sleeve to wipe at his eyes again. “Sorry, Wolf– I don’t mean to laugh at you… it’s just weird to hear you say you’re nervous about anything.”

Yuuri wasn’t wrong– typically, Wolfram was never flustered about things in general. If he was, his usual route was to double down and turn his nervousness into blind confidence. He defeatedly huffed. “I… hmph. You make me nervous.”

“Yeah?” The other questioned. Yuuri’s hand reached out for Wolfram’s own, gently tugging him closer. Wolfram obediently let himself be pulled forward. “I’ve been nervous about a lot of things lately…” He began, idly shifting his fingers so they were interlocked with the blonde’s own. “...but not about you– not really, anyways. If I am, I think it’s a… a good kind of nervous.” 

The blonde’s cheeks colored at the boy’s words. A good kind of nervous. He stood there quietly, marveling at how nice the other’s hand felt in his.

The pair stood in the darkness together in a shy silence for only a few moments before it was broken by footsteps on the other side of the door. Whoever it was on the outside walked past without stopping. The sound, however, reminded Wolfram of reality and the important mission he had been set on.

“T-that’s right! Yuuri, we need to get going before everything starts. I also need to bring you back before Günter floods the room with his… liquids .” A shiver inadvertently ran through Wolfram at the thought.

As Wolfram made a movement to leave, he was abruptly stopped in his place by something– or, rather, someone.

Yuuri had stepped forward and pulled Wolfram back toward him again. This time, the Maou threw his arms around the unsuspecting Wolfram, drawing him into a deep embrace. His arms tightly wrapped around the blonde and he buried his face deep into the other’s neck.

Almost instantly, the blonde melted into the hug. He allowed his arms to snake around Yuuri’s muscular shoulders, one hand gently pulling the Maou’s head further into him. Wolfram closed his eyes and allowed his cheek to rest comfortingly against the other’s black hair.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other in the embrace. Finally, it was Wolfram who pulled away. As he did, Yuuri lifted his head to look at him, the whites of his dark eyes still slightly red. However, he looked considerably less sad than when Wolfram had first stepped into the closet.

“Wolfram…”

“Remember, it’ll be okay,” Wolfram repeated. He ruffled a hand through the boy’s black locks. In an effort to keep trying to lift the other’s spirits, the blonde added, “Come on, let’s get you ready. I can’t look better than you when they get here, or that would be extremely embarrassing.”

Yuuri smiled. “Okay, okay– but one more thing before we go.”

“Hm?”

“Are you still too nervous for me to kiss you?”

Wolfram blinked, slowly processing the Maou’s words. When his brain fully registered what he asked, he blushed profusely. Even though the answer deep down was yes, Wolfram willed himself to shake his head no.

Yuuri leaned forward and Wolfram instinctively closed his eyes. The blonde felt the other place an innocent kiss on his lips that, in Wolfram’s opinion, lasted for too short of a time. The two both stepped back, opening their eyes and looking meaningfully at each other in silent understanding.

Both of them were about to step forward again into another kiss when an onslaught of light assaulted their eyes. The closet door had been thrown open, a grinning Murata standing on the other side.

“Ah, did I interrupt something~?” The double-black sage teased, placing his hands on both of his hips.

“N-no!” Both boys stammered, taking a step away from each other. They both watched as Murata scanned them up and down– guilty , his eyes triumphantly judged.

The Great Sage continued cheekily, “Shibuya, I’m glad you’re getting some, but can you and Lord von Bielefeld continue your fun after Shou Shimaron arrives?”

“Murata!” The demon king protested, stepping out of the closet. “Nothing like that happened and you know it.”

“Do I~?” The other boy said in a singsong voice, which only earned a punch on the arm from a flushed Wolfram, who had also emerged from the cramped space.

After regaining his composure, Yuuri cleared his throat. “Anyways, that’s, uhm… We have business to attend to.” He looked toward his two friends. His face became more serious, a new determination emblazoned in his dark eyes. “Do you both trust me?”

“Of course, Yuuri.”

“Without a doubt, Shibuya.”

The Maou took another step forward. Wolfram was surprised that this was the same person he had initially found in the cramped closet space.

“Then I’ll be okay. Let’s go greet Sara.”

Chapter Text

In the throne room, Yuuri sat up straight in his chair, fingers gripping its golden ornate arms. He had changed into another black uniform that looked much like his usual but was made of finer quality material. For today’s occasion, a red velvet mantle lined with white fur was draped over his shoulders and fastened with a golden pin. The piece of fabric reached the floor and gave Yuuri a heightened appearance of kingliness. To complete the look, a bejeweled crown rested regally on top of his kept dark locks.

His retainers flanked either side of his throne, lined up to greet the delegation from Shou Shimaron. The Shin Makoku welcoming party was small, both groups agreeing to a more intimate first official meeting. Wolfram and Murata stood the closest to him, followed by Gwendal and Günter. Also in attendance were Cheri, Anissina, and Greta, standing just off to Wolfram’s side. A small part of Yuuri sadly imagined his godfather in the lineup, but he forced himself to shake the thought away.

There was an inevitable layer of anticipation in the air as they waited for their guests to arrive. No idle chatter filled the room, only what felt like deafening silence.

As the suspense mounted, the black feeling bubbled up inside the pit of the Maou’s stomach.

Yuuri took a deep breath, trying to keep the thoughts at bay. He tried to envision his breaths as he drew them, like how Wolfram had taught him. As he inhaled, he internally watched as the air filled up his lungs, a balloon expanding within him. As he exhaled, he watched as the balloon deflated, the air returning into the world as a colorful mist. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

The grand door opened.

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes made a beeline to the center of the room.

The first person to walk through the door was Dacascos… well, it was more like Yuuri was instantly drawn to the baldness of the soldier’s head, which impressively reflected the natural light that filtered through the expansive windows of the throne room. He was dutifully leading the pack of diplomatic attachés to their first destination– Yuuri. Dacascos and the small group fully entered the room. When the soldier was midway to the demon king, he stopped and saluted, cleanly stepping aside to present the visitors. 

Behind Dacascos were three nondescript Shou Shimaron soldiers, all wearing similar military attire. In lieu of Shou Shimaron tradition, each guard had their hair tied up in ponytails and some sort of facial hair gracing their features. The soldier on the left carried the Shou Shimaron flag, a lone unicorn against a black and white background, golden tassels lining the outside. When they reached the spot Dacascos had originally stopped at, the three military men also stepped aside to reveal the other remaining members of their party. The first two people to be revealed were new enough to Yuuri, although he had been studying their faces for the past few days.

Both were men, dressed in minimalistic but regal white garbs. By just a glance, anyone could tell that while these men were noble, they both had a scholarly air that followed them. Blue silken sashes were draped across their pressed blazers, golden tassels similar to the ones on their flag outlining the elegant fabric.

The man on the right was the shorter of the two retainers, although he appeared more distinguished than his counterpart. Just by seeing the square-rimmed glasses on his face, Yuuri knew that this was Lord Ulrich Grymbalde, King Saralegui’s primary adviser on foreign diplomacy and relationships. Grymbalde, much like the military men, also had a long ponytail; however, his hair hung lower than the others, a deep blue ribbon tying back his thick locks. It was a rich brown color, with white streaks earned from time framing the bangs on either side of his cheekbones. Along with his hair, the trimmed beard on his face was also peppered with white. His face was serious, almost serious enough to give Gwendal a run for his money. On his sash, there were several distinctive pins and medals that his counterpart did not have.

Yuuri’s eyes then took in his counterpart, who was literally just that. If Lord Grymbalde was older and shorter, the other man was taller and younger. Additionally, unlike Grymbalde’s stern complexion, this man had a face that seemed like it was constantly smiling. Yuuri mentally noted that this was Lord Morgan Maycott, one of Shou Shimaron’s top intelligence officers and strategists. He also realized that this man seemed familiar in a lot of ways, ways that seemed on the tip of Yuuri’s tongue. The demon king looked closer at the dignitary. Lord Maycott’s hair was a lighter, more copper shade of brown, pulled up higher and cropped on the sides. 

Cropped… Yuuri squinted more, before making the connection. Eh?! This man looked an awful lot like Maxine, albeit a friendlier and softer version of the Mermaid Man.

And, of course, standing a step behind the two retainers was the King of Shou Shimaron.

Yuuri felt the pace of his heart quicken.

King Saralegui was as pretty and put together as ever. His slender frame stood with his trademark aura of confidence, body draped in a beautifully crafted ensemble. The fabric was the color of milky jade and seemed expensive, even just by looking at it. Golden threads were stitched throughout, trailing from the top of the shinzoku’s high neckline to the bottom of the garment. Darker green patterns swirled down the long sleeves of his arms, which almost covered his petite and manicured fingers. Saralegui wore his ash blond hair straight down, although not a bit of it was out of place. A thin solid gold crown encircled his head, its design simple yet elegant. As always, his purple oval glasses covered his honey-colored eyes, which made it hard for Yuuri to immediately discern his expression from the distance he was at.

Stand up , he told himself. As he willed himself upward, he realized how weak his knees felt; as discreetly as he could, Yuuri used the arms of the throne to hold himself steady as he respectfully stood for the other king. He let go of them, straightening his shoulders as much as possible.

“King Saralegui,” the Maou’s voice was surprisingly firm and level, considering how his whole body felt like gelatin.

In response, Saralegui replied evenly, “King Yuuri.”

Simultaneously, they both bowed their heads and began to purposefully process toward each other.

Shou Shimaron tradition stipulated that when two kings were formally meeting for the first time, each party was to say the other’s name and bow their heads. Next, both parties were to meet each other halfway as a sign of mutual respect. Afterwards, they were to grab their left forearm with their left hand and again bow their heads to each other. To end the proper greeting, they would then mutually step away from each other.

Keeping walking forward, Yuuri continued to narrate to himself. As he walked down the steps that lead from the throne, he found himself looking just about everywhere except the other boy’s face. Currently, his stare was directed at the top of the approaching Saralegui’s head. You need to look him in the eyes , the voice chastised again. Come on, Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Fuuri, look at him, or else it’s gonna be even worse!

After a sharp inhale, the Maou’s black eyes forced themself to lock their gaze on the King of Shou Shimaron’s eyes. Even through the violet glasses, Yuuri was now close enough to see the crescents of pupils that belonged to the shinzoku. A sour taste filled his mouth.

Keep breathing, keep smiling, keep breathing.

With each step, his heartbeat only increased in speed.

Inhale.

Exhale.

And all at once, the two kings were face to face.

Yuuri continued to stare into the familiar face, a face that hadn’t seemed to change even a bit since their last meeting. He continued to stare at the curved-up nose and elegantly smiling lips, at the long lashes and smooth white skin. He continued to stare at the angelic face that inspired so many of his haunting nightmares over the past month.

The pair had stopped just a few feet away from each other. Saralegui reached out his arm and firmly grabbed Yuuri’s left arm. Reflexively, Yuuri tensed; each of the boy’s fingers felt like shocks of electricity to his nervous system. Following protocol, the Maou in turn mirrored the shinzoku’s movements, still evenly holding the other’s piercing gaze. Once in position, they both bowed their heads toward each other. As they did, Yuuri could’ve sworn he heard Saralegui chuckle softly to himself. When he raised his head to face the other again, there was ever the slightest smirk on his pink lips.

Both kings took a synchronous step back from each other. As they did, their respective retainers around them then erupted in applause as the formal greeting ceremony concluded. This applause was Yuuri’s cue to continue onwards with the formalities.

“Welcome to Shin Makoku, King Saralegui and Shou Shimaron. We are happy to have you here as our guests.” Yuuri forced a brighter smile at the delegation, and swept an arm out to inclusively gesture at his own followers behind him. They bowed to the small group before them.

“Thank you for having us, King Yuuri. We are appreciative of your hospitality and look forward to bridging the gaps between our countries and understanding more of the mazoku way of life.” At his words, Saralegui’s envoy respectfully bowed their heads in return toward their hosts. 

At that, it was now Günter’s cue to step forward and take his place as the official diplomatic emcee of Shin Makoku and Blood Pledge Castle. 

“It is our honor to have you as the 27th Demon King’s guests. There will be time to mingle some more soon, but first I, His Majesty’s royal adviser Günter von Christ, will lead you on a tour of Blood Pledge Castle’s most significant features and history. Afterwards, we will convene in His Majesty’s dining hall for a feast. Let us begin.”

The royal entourages of both Shin Makoku and Shou Shimaron followed Günter through the grand doors and into the main hall. The white-haired man continued on with a tour of the castle’s main rooms and notable landmarks, along with the histories and significance of the previous holders of the title of Maou. As they followed, Yuuri and Saralegui were naturally positioned next to each other and directly behind von Christ. Both guards from Shou Shimaron and Shin Makoku followed steps behind them. The rest of the group was in tow, with Wolfram at the front, his eyes sharply trained on the two kings. He kept watch on Saralegui’s proximity to the demon king, noticing how he would get closer so that he was shoulder to shoulder with Yuuri. Wolfram also observed how the Maou would try to coolly keep some distance between them, turning to smile with a subtle small step away whenever the shinzoku leaned in to say something.

Typically, the proud mazoku prince would be inflamed at his fiancé for seemingly flirting with a beautiful dignitary. However, Wolfram had to push his insecurities aside to put logic at the forefront of his mind– he kept telling himself that, at least in this specific case, Yuuri’s laughter and flirtation was definitely a defense mechanism to cut some of the discomfort from the whole situation.

From an outsider’s perspective, no one would have ever been able to tell that, only mere hours ago, the black-haired boy had been hiding in a closet and crying. Wolfram was impressed with Yuuri’s kingly presentation. He really had been able to get himself together when the time mattered the most. 

While Yuuri may have been fooling most of the diplomatic delegation, Wolfram knew that Saralegui was more keen to pick up on any chinks in the Maou’s armor. The only question was if the shinzoku had already found a potential weak spot.

The tour stopped in front of the notable paintings of the legendary Shinou and Great Sage. As Günter waxed on about the greatness of the founders (with Murata’s occasional eyerolls), Saralegui tilted his head toward the Maou. Yuuri could feel his pale locks brush gently over his shoulder as the boy leaned in and softly whispered to him, “I missed you, Yuuri.”

The Maou’s thoughts numbed and buzzed all at once.

Yuuri swallowed down the acid in his throat, keeping his eyes trained on his mentor’s passionate speech. After a moment, Saralegui added, “I’m really sorry about how things went down in Seisakoku. I used you to help my kingdom.”

Every word the other boy king spoke was another layer of static swarming in his head.

“I’m sorry you got hurt, Yuuri, because you’re an interesting person… but I’m not sorry for doing it for my people.” The King of Shou Shimaron paused, casting a sideways glance through his heavy eyelashes at the black-haired boy. “Does that make sense, Yuuri? Surely, you understand.”

With each sanguine word that was seeking forgiveness, Yuuri wanted to scream. The hand at his side furthest from Sara balled into a fist, his fingernails digging deeply into his palm.

“Yes, Sara– I understand.” His response was stiffer than he would’ve liked.

Saralegui smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness! I’m glad we’re starting this friendship of our countries on a clean slate, then.”

The shinzoku linked one of his thin arms in Yuuri’s, pulling them closer together. Yuuri froze; his clenched fingers dug deeper into his palm. He tried not to recall the last time they were this close together, but the black cloud of static crackled louder.

No.

His mouth went numb, words frozen at the tip of his tongue.

No. No, you are okay, he told himself desperately. He wanted to shut his eyes, to pull away, to do anything. The control he was exhibiting over his body must be coming from a deeper place– he wondered if his Maou mode self had anything to do with it. You are not alone. You are okay.

As if someone was able to read his mind, Yuuri heard a distinctive voice clear their throat just behind himself and the other boy king.

Saralegui curiously turned to face the perpetrator. His smile, though, momentarily faltered upon realizing it was none other than Wolfram von Bielefeld interrupting his time with the Maou. The roiling static was suspended and replaced with a blanket of relief.

“King Saralegui,” Wolfram greeted, his tone hard but polite. While it may have seemed respectful on the outside, Yuuri could imagine that whatever was going through the mazoku’s head was anything but.

“Ah, that’s right– Yuuri’s fiancé,” Saralegui said in turn, his voice giving no hints of displeasure. “Lord von Bielefeld, isn’t it? I suppose you came over here to make sure that we are behaving ourselves.” The shinzoku’s smile widened as he pulled away from Yuuri, innocently holding one hand up. “I can assure you, as cute as Yuuri is, nothing untoward is going on. At least not at the moment– right, Yuuri?”

Yuuri laughed uncomfortably. “Very funny, Sara. Wolfram, thank you for checking in, but I promise I am not doing anything.” Now or ever, he mentally added.

Wolfram silently stepped away from the two once Sara let the Maou go. Yuuri was appreciative of the blonde prince’s interception and he sent a telepathetic thank you into the universe to his fiancé. See, it is fine, he reassured himself again. You’re fine. You’re safe. Wolfram’s right there.

Just thinking about having Wolfram there helped most of the tension pick up and leave his body. Yes, that’s right. The blonde, fire-wielding demon was there, clearly keeping a close watch on him. Not out of jealousy this time, but out of… well, love. 

At the thought of that, Yuuri’s heart fluttered. He had been having cardiac issues all day, but that… felt nice. It was a different kind of nervousness, one that came with a mellow warmth that tickled his cheeks. He recalled his own words from earlier– the good kind of nervous.

Yuuri chanced a glance back at Wolfram at the thought. He was hoping he would catch the blonde with some sort of cute or elegant expression, but…

Since Saralegui had turned back around to attend to Günter’s words, Wolfram’s face had adopted a terrifying expression as he glowered at the King of Shou Shimaron. Yikes, scary– not cute ! He was glad Sara’s entourage was engrossed in the story of Shinou and the Great Sage and not able to see the monster that was Wolfram von Bielefeld. 

Wolfram had promised to be on his best behavior and put his trust in the Maou, and in turn Yuuri also gave the boy his own trust. Yuuri knew this very well. However…

The demon king also knew that the blonde mazoku wouldn’t hesitate to cause a diplomatic crisis in an instant if Saralegui gave him a reason to.

We only have to survive this for five days , Yuuri reassured himself.

He sighed. At the sound, Sara turned toward him in response, cocking his head innocently at Yuuri. A few short seconds later, he gave him a wink.

The static resumed its mental turmoil.

Only five more days.

Chapter Text

It was barely the end of the first night and the welcoming dinner could not have come soon enough for Yuuri.

This particular dinner was always a symbolic event on the first night between the two countries working toward an alliance, of course. But for Yuuri, all he could think about was that it was a reprieve from having to be directly next to his tormentor.

The two kings were seated at either end of the great table, their other retainers and important figures filling in the spaces between them. The seating arrangements tried to mix the company of as many Shin Makoku and Shou Shimaron attendees as possible, as a show of ‘building new connections and getting to know one another.’ The dinner itself was several planned gourmet courses of cuisine from both their nations, representative of the unity each nation hoped to achieve.

Wolfram, despite being Yuuri’s fiancé, had been seated somewhere at the middle of the table (as per Günter’s arrangements), close to his own brother and Saralegui’s advisors. Günter had told him that he needed Wolfram to be a “pillar of His Majesty’s greatness” and help foster the international conversations. Wolfram, however, had other plans. As they continued to eat, he instead focused on keeping an eye on the King of Shou Shimaron.

I want to knock those stupid glasses off his face, Wolfram sourly thought as he pushed around chunks of vegetables and meat that floated around in a thick, red stew. From underneath the table, the blonde felt a kick to his shin. Promptly, he looked up and across the table at Gwendal, who in turn was staring disapprovingly at him. His older brother subtly jerked his head toward the man sitting next to Wolfram, nonverbally reprimanding his younger brother that he better start being a model dinner guest.

Wolfram begrudgingly directed his attention to Saralegui’s adviser that was on his left side. It was the one with the cropped ponytail– Wolfram searched his brain for a second to find the man’s name. Then, putting on his most charming smile, he asked, “Lord Maycott, how do you find everything so far?”

Lord Morgan Maycott turned toward Wolfram. He was classically handsome enough, some of his features more effeminate than his counterpart, Ulrich Grymbalde, who was seated on Wolfram’s other side. Lord Maycott had smooth tan skin that was only blemished with the beginning signs of crow’s feet from his constant smiling; his long lashes batted over a pair of intelligent deep blue eyes. “It’s been more than adequate, Lord von Bielefeld– truly.” The delegate looked the other up and down with smiling eyes. “And how about yourself? How are you enjoying Our Majesty’s presence in Shin Makoku?”

“Your king is an esteemed guest to us, so we of course welcome him,” Wolfram replied as politely as he could, lying through his teeth. “He has also been someone His Majesty Yuuri has had a deep kindness for, and we want to extend that same feeling to him. My fiancé is an excellent judge of character, so I believe fully in what he sees.”

Lord Maycott’s eyes brightened at the last part of Wolfram’s statement. “Yes, that’s right– along with being the former Demon Queen’s son, you are the current Demon King’s fiancé. So very splendid,” he remarked, taking a sip from the champagne in the crystal flute in front of him. “Tell me, Lord von Bielefeld, how did that come to be? Was it always arranged when the Maou took his throne?”

Wolfram studied the other man for a moment– surely, he already must know the answer to his own question. Saralegui’s diplomatic attachés must have done the same extensive research on Yuuri’s retainers as they had done on theirs. On top of that, Wolfram was rather sure Lord Maycott was their lead intelligence officer. After a moment, the blonde carefully responded, “No, it was not an arranged marriage. In fact, His Majesty proposed to me when he first arrived in this world and met me.”

The strategist cocked his thin eyebrow with interest, leaning his chin into his palm. “Very interesting! It must have been love at first sight, then.” With his other hand, he raised his champagne flute. “Well, let me extend our country’s belated congratulations to the royal couple.” In turn, Wolfram hesitantly lifted his own glass and clinked it softly against the other’s. “When is the expected date of this esteemed royal marriage?”

“The date has not been set just yet,” Gwendal’s voice chimed in from across the table. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t exactly frowning, either. “His Majesty plans to stay in a state of engagement to Lord von Bielefeld until he comes of age.”

“Oh?” Morgan said, interest piqued. His eyes voraciously studied the Voltaire brother.

A different voice, deep and firm, also joined the conversation. “Interesting, Lord von Voltaire– I thought King Yuuri already was of age?”

The two brothers quickly turned their attention to the owner of the voice– Lord Ulrich Grymbalde. Ulrich sat back in his chair, broad shoulders straightened and burning brown eyes sharply set on Gwendal.

Now Gwendal was frowning. “His Majesty is considered of age in the realm of the mazoku, that is true; however, we also are considerate of his human cultural ties, which in turn deem him of age in a few more years.”

Ulrich’s eyebrow raised. “Ah, is that so?” He thought for a moment, before continuing, “My apologies if my question overstepped… it is just interesting that the Demon King has any reverence for human customs whatsoever.”

“That is what makes His Majesty so different and why he is so widely respected, even outside of Shin Makoku,” Gwendal countered, holding his voice steady. “He has a wider perspective than most.”

The military officer pushed his glasses further up the curved bridge of his nose. “An admirable quality for a king to have,” he agreed. Ulrich narrowed his eyes. “But be careful of turning a blind eye to the people most loyal to you in order to cull favor with others.”

Wolfram felt his hand curl into a fist. “That’s not–”

Gwendal raised his hand, signaling his brother to stop talking. “Understandable,” the dark-haired mazoku said. “Lord Maycott, Lord Grymbalde, how about King Saralegui? What of his royal marriage prospects?”

Saralegui’s two advisers gave each other a quick look before Morgan answered. “King Saralegui has received many proposals– his charm and beauty are wildly popular with nobility throughout more than just the Shimarons.”

“However, His Majesty is picky,” Ulrich added, sipping from his drink.

“He’s waiting for someone to appear that equals him; if he marries, he wishes for it to be someone that he respects and deems worthy.” The ponytailed man locked his eyes with the blonde. “His Majesty does not hold many people in such a high regard, as you may know. Really, maybe there are just one or two people who meet that standard.”

“Right,” Wolfram responded slowly, trying to swallow down the uneasy feeling in his throat.

At that moment, Lord von Christ stood up, animatedly clasping his hands together. Wolfram and Gwendal shot each other one last look before turning their attention to the white-haired mazoku.

“Excuse me, all– I hope you have been enjoying yourselves. On behalf of His Majesty King Yuuri, Shin Makoku would like to announce that a royal ball will be held. This ball will be a time to officially welcome our Shou Shimaron guests and introduce them to Shin Makoku’s noble court and esteemed countrymen. Tomorrow, those guests will begin arriving and we will commence festivities the day after. The ball itself will be held at the end of the third night.”

Murmurs of excitement rippled through the dinner party. Günter had lowered himself back in his seat, pleased with his own announcement. Wolfram’s eyes glanced back to Saralegui, who was smiling. A nameless Shou Shimaron soldier leaned in and appeared to whisper something to the young boy king. Saralegui gave a short nod and slowly stood up.

“Thank you, Shin Makoku, and thank you, King Yuuri. On behalf of Shou Shimaron, I want to again thank Blood Pledge Castle for showing us utmost hospitality. We are excited for the festivities to come, as well as working with King Yuuri to secure an alliance between our two countries.” Saralegui paused, taking a moment to raise his glass. “Let us toast to our future as both allies and friends.”

Following his words, all the attendees raised their own glasses. Wolfram watched as Yuuri also picked up his own glass and rose from his seat, forcing a smile. “Agreed. Here’s to a new beginning between our two countries!”

The hall erupted in a chorus of “Cheers!” As everyone settled back in, Wolfram couldn’t help but notice that Sarelegui intently kept his eyes on the Maou through his purple lenses. A disgusting feeling stirred inside him.

* * *

Dinner continued on for about another half hour before people began excusing themselves and turning in for the night. Finally, Wolfram thought– but as much as he wanted to leave then and there, he knew he and the Maou would have to be the last ones to leave.

Before long, it was then Saralegui’s turn to leave. He elegantly stood, his retainers following suit. The boy king then announced, “If you will excuse me, Yuuri, we will be retiring for the evening. I definitely will need my beauty sleep for tomorrow’s welcoming party.” The group then headed out, with Saralegui stopping to idle by Yuuri’s seat at the table for a moment. Wolfram watched as the other’s hand lingered on the Maou’s shoulder. “Yuuri, thank you again for having us and letting me get to see you and your country some more. I will see you tomorrow at breakfast.” With that, Lord Maycott and Lord Grymbalde gave curt nods and diligently followed the king of Shou Shimaron out of the dining hall, their own guards close behind.

Any remaining dinner guests had more or less left. The only one still fully seated now with Yuuri, who was still looking out of the door to which Sara had left from. Wolfram made his way over to where the demon king was. As he approached his king, his mother also had appeared next to the both of them, her glass of wine still in her hand. She stood behind Yuuri and tousled Wolfram’s fair hair with her free hand. 

“Your Majesty, what an exquisite dinner party! All of Shou Shimaron is filled with such handsome men~! Wolf, don’t you agree?”

“Mother!” Wolfram hissed, lightly shoving Cheri’s arm away from his head. He quickly tried to smooth back his hair into place. “Yes, I agree with the fact that dinner went well, not the handsome men part.” Yuuri was listening and nodding along, but not looking at them; instead, his dark eyes moved to fixate on his plate in front of him. A frown tugged at the corners of Wolfram’s lips. “How did everything go for you?”

The demon king was silent for a moment, before saying, “Fine. I think it went well, too.” Finally, he looked up at the mother and son pair. A smile strained against his lips. “Thanks for being here, you guys.” Then, he stood up and stretched a bit, his eyes moving back to the door he had previously been looking at. “Lady Cheri, sorry to go now but I’m wiped… I hope you understand.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!”

“If you’ll excuse us, then.”

Cheri waved goodbye to the two as they took off, Wolfram obediently following behind Yuuri. They had almost made it out of the dining hall when Gwendal appeared in front of them, blocking their escape.

“I will escort the two of you back to your room so we can debrief about today’s events,” Gwendal insisted. He then lowered his voice. “I also want to talk about our conversation from dinner, Wolfram.” Yuuri looked up between the two of them, confused. Before Wolfram was able to open his mouth and say anything, a familiar voice interrupted and called out to them.

“Lord von Voltaire~!”

Gwendal stopped and turned his head slightly to look at the Great Sage. Grinning, Murata stepped in between the dark-haired mazoku and the royal couple.

“...Yes, Your Eminence?”

“Why don’t we let these two rest for now, hmm?” As he gestured toward Wolfram and Yuuri, Gwendal’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Everything was fine today, so there’s nothing pressing to really discuss. And after all, it’s been a long day for Shibuya– we can just have a meeting in the morning before breakfast with Shou Shimaron. How about it?”

“Your Eminence,” Gwendal pushed on. “There was a moment at dinner that I wanted to discuss with Wolfram that was of interest.” He pointedly looked at his younger brother, hoping the blonde would back him up.

“Lord von Bielefeld, can this wait until morning?” Murata asked, looking between the two brothers. “I think it’s best if you take Shibuya back now… unless…?”

Wolfram looked between his big brother and the double-black sage. It was an odd conversation, surely, but not pressing.. right? It wasn’t as important as Yuuri was to him, anyways. He took a deep breath in. “I think it can wait, Big Brother.” 

Gwendal’s eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Wolfram. At length, he conceded. “...fine. But we will be meeting early, so do not be late. I’ll send some guards to bring you over in the morning.”

Murata turned toward the two behind him, shooting a triumphant peace sign their way. Yuuri and Wolfram nodded their heads in appreciation, before turning and successfully leaving the dining hall. 

When they were out of earshot, the blonde pressed close to Yuuri and asked, “You doing okay, Yuuri?”

“What was Gwendal talking about?”

Wolfram bit his lip, wavering between his thoughts. “I think he’s thinking too much into something one of the retainers said. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“But Wolf–”

“Come on, there’s somewhere I want to go with you,” Wolfram softly tugged Yuuri forward. Now it was the demon king’s turn to follow, his eyes still swirling with a faraway look. 

Instead of going the usual route back to their room, Wolfram made several different turns that took them to a wing of Blood Pledge Castle that was opposite to where the two usually were. The halls themselves were quieter, decorated minimally with older portraits and other decorations that were too nice to be stored away but not too important to be displayed at the front of the castle.

“Huh? Wolf, where are we?

“You’ll see,” Wolfram said coolly. He found the door he was looking for and began to push it open. “I forgot that this place existed until Günter mentioned something that reminded me of it on the tour today.”

The door opened and a small courtyard was suddenly laid out in front of the pair. Yuuri had been here once or twice before when he had first arrived in Shin Makoku as he was getting acclimated to Blood Pledge Castle. The small courtyard was almost overgrown with greenery, willows and bushes lining its edges. Flowers that resembled hydrangeas dotted the courtyard and circled a trickling fountain that was standing in the middle. An almost invisible stone walking path wound its way around the fountain and back to the entrance, tufts of grass growing thick in between each step. There were a few stone benches placed between rows of bushes and around the fountain. The most notable thing about the garden, however, was not the natural beauty it held; instead, it was the fact there were dozens of butterflies fluttering about the courtyard. Their wings were a vibrant blue gossamer that shimmered in the moonlight. 

Yuuri watched on in wonder. “I don’t remember there being butterflies here…” He continued to blink incredulously at them as Wolfram brought them to sit at one of the benches. “...also, why are they awake right now? Aren’t they usually just active during the day?”

“These butterflies are special,” Wolfram began. “The 15th Demon Queen imported them from Van da Via island. They’re nocturnal creatures because the sun burns the gossamer in their wings.” As Yuuri listened, he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. So these butterflies came from where Morgif had been? 

“Huh,” Yuuri mused. He pointed up toward the night sky. “Do they ever… fly away? Like, permanently?”

The blonde definitively shook his head. “No. They are always here.”

“That’s kind of surprising. Why don’t they?”

“Well,” Wolfram said, making a gesture toward the fountain in the middle of the courtyard. “It’s probably because of that.”

Yuuri cocked his head.

“What’s so special about the water?” He asked. A smirk crossed his face. “Is it some fancy mineral water, hm? Are they just too spoiled to leave?”

“Not exactly.” Wolfram leaned back, crossing his arms. “It’s because there isn’t water in that fountain– it’s blood.”

The smirk vanished from Yuuri’s face. “B-blood?!”

“Yes. They’re vampire butterflies.”

The Maou stared at him with wide eyes. He opened and closed his mouth, before getting out, “...blood?”

Wolfram shot him a look. “Did you not hear the word ‘vampire’ in their name? They drink blood.”

The demon king’s gaze whipped from the fountain to the butterflies and then back to Wolfram. He then inched closer to the blonde, raising his own hand to keep the insects fluttering above head away from them.

“What are we doing here?! Aren’t we in danger?!?!”

The blonde chuckled softly. With one arm, he pulled the Maou closer into him, hand resting comfortably on his shoulder. “Relax, wimp– I wouldn’t take you to some place that would cause you harm,” he teased, one his fingers playing idly with a lock of Yuuri’s hair. “At any rate, the butterflies don’t have fangs. Think of them more as scavengers– completely harmless.” Then, Wolfram leaned in closer to the Maou, his lips almost brushing against the other’s ear as he whispered, “But don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

A shiver ran through the Maou. Blushing, he looked away, cautiously eyeing one of the creatures that landed on the edge of the fountain. He watched as its proboscis flicked at the pool of water.

“Wait–” the demon king started, brows creasing in confusion. “If that’s blood, why is the fountain not red?”

“Well, having blood dripping everywhere would look… gaudy,” Wolfram mused. “Majutsu has been cast on it so it appears more appealing to the eyes of the current day. When the 15th Demon Queen first brought them here, having blood on display was less of an aesthetic issue. But now… we prefer less blood-like.”

Yuuri opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He could only intelligently respond with, “Ah.”

They sat together in the silence, watching the vampire butterflies languidly flap about. Yuuri listened to the trickle of the water, but he couldn’t help but make a face at the reality of the sound. He stuck his tongue out in distaste. Gross.

Soon, though, his grimace was replaced with a look of slow understanding. He looked at Wolfram, raising an eyebrow. “Wolf, did you take me all the way here to distract me?”

The blonde hummed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but then he let out a sad chuckle. “Today… was really a lot.”

“I’m sure.” Wolfram bit his lower lip. “How are you feeling, after all of this? After seeing him?”

The Maou closed his eyes. “Seeing him… I wanted to scream every time he looked at or touched me.” The smile faded and his face scrunched in pain. He slouched forward, elbows resting on either of his legs. “It really sucked. I’m glad I had all of you there, though– especially you, Wolf.”

The blonde gave him a gentle squeeze. “Yuuri…”

Yuuri leaned into the blonde. “I mean it. And I know I am supposed to be strong because I’m the king, but…” The black-haired boy gave a frustrated sigh and lowered his face into his palms. His chest felt tight.

Wolfram’s hand drifted from the other’s shoulder to gently rub the boy's back. “It’ll be okay, Yuuri. We’re still here for you for every moment of this. We know you can do it. And if he tries something… I will kill him.”

Startled by the blonde’s words, Yuuri peeked out through the cage of his fingers. “Please don’t do that, Wolf. Then we’ll have a real crisis on our hands.”

“Okay, fine. I take that back. I won’t kill him, but… I’ll do something.”

Yuuri sighed. “At this point, we should all just go through with it and appease him. We’ve come this far, having him here, and it’s really only a few more days…” The Maou lifted his head from his hands slowly. “Unless he does something drastic, we should really just go along with whatever he wants to do.”

Wolfram furrowed his brows. “Isn’t it dangerous, talking that way? We don’t know if he’s up to something– wouldn’t that make us seem like we’re oblivious to him?”

Yuuri paused, thinking over Wolfram's words. “Well, the important thing is to just know when he’s playing around with us and when he’s being manipulative.”

“...Okay, but that seems like a fine line,” Wolfram murmured. Yet the more he thought about it, the less it seemed like Yuuri was coming from a place of defeat with his words. Wolfrgram begrudged the fact that since Saralegui was no stranger to being conniving and sadistic, he probably would find a way to entertain himself these next few days. As long as Shin Makoku knew this was the place Sara’s actions may come from, maybe it was true that’s all that mattered… then it was really just a question of what the shinzoku would do to test Yuuri’s limits.

“Anyways,” Yuuri began, standing up. “I think it’s time for us to go up now. It’s getting late.”

Wolfram eyed the other cautiously. “Are you sure?”

A small smile appeared on the black-haired boy’s face. “I think I’ve been successfully distracted enough.”

As Yuuri started to turn his back, Wolfram blurted, “Well, I think you could have been more distracted.”

That caught him off guard. 

Yuuri’s heart began to beat faster as he glanced back at the other. “Oh?” Despite his seeming display of boldness, Wolfram was slightly pink in the cheek, emerald eyes shying away from Yuuri as the black-haired boy moved closer. Wolfram himself seemed surprised that those words came out of his mouth. Teasingly, he asked, “Was there another part to your plan, Wolf?”

The other tried to recover and gave a slight shrug, his fair lashes fluttering innocently. “M-maybe. You’ll have to come closer to see.”

Wolfram didn’t know what had gotten into him. Even though it was new, this side that showed itself was something he couldn’t control, something that now definitely couldn’t be blamed on any wine. Acting on this new part of their relationship made the blonde equal parts nervous, excited, and terrified.

Either way, it was clear Yuuri felt the same way– Wolfram’s brain was also still partly reeling over that information alone. The Maou now stood in front of Wolfram, who was still sitting on the bench. Tentatively, the blonde pulled the other closer by his arms, causing Yuuri’s body to fall forward; he had to catch himself by holding the back of the bench, both hands on either side of the blonde.

Wolfram enjoyed the somewhat flustered expression on the other’s face. He then cupped his hands on either side of the Maou’s face, leaning forward and gently guiding their mouths together. Yuuri bent down a little to press his mouth even closer against Wolfram’s, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of his lips in the cool shade of the night. As they kissed, something solid pressed hesitantly between the Maou’s lips; vaguely understanding what the blonde was asking, Yuuri parted his mouth. Suddenly, he felt Wolfram’s tongue against his and a different, pleasurable feeling flooded the demon king’s system. It caused a small moan to rise in the back of his throat, which only encouraged Wolfram to push in deeper and pull the boy closer. In doing so, Yuuri’s knees buckled and he had to lower himself onto the bench, inadvertently straddling his fiancé. 

With each kiss they had shared over the past few days, the two of them had become hungrier. It was like a floodgate opening, becoming more powerful and impossible to fight back as it progressed. As he felt Yuuri on top of him, the burning feeling inside Wolfram only grew hotter. His arms moved up and down Yuuri’s back, taking him all in, pressing him closer. When their kisses broke apart in breathless pants, saliva trailed gracelessly from their lips. Both of them were fully flushed, eyes heavy-lidded in want.

While Wolfram knew there was no going back to how things were, it didn’t stop a small strand of worry from worming its way into the back of his head.

Should we keep going?

Is Yuuri ready for more?

...Am I ready for more?

It was hard to wrestle with the worry as his pants only continued to feel tighter and tighter the more he and Yuuri kissed. And with Yuuri straddled on his lap, any bit of friction was dangerously distracting. Any time the Maou shifted his weight in his position, his body rubbed against the blonde’s growing problem and caused the thoughts in his head to scramble. Wolfram pulled his mouth away from Yuuri’s and nuzzled his face against the crook of his neck, his breathing uneven.

“Yuuri…”

At the sound of his name, the Maou smiled and used his hand to gently pull Wolfram’s face back in his view. He looked absolutely beautiful, his pale skin flushed deliciously pink and his soft lips wet and swollen. Those rich emerald eyes… they only continued to suck Yuuri in.

Pulling him in deeper, further down under the current.

It made Yuuri want more.

He leaned back in to capture Wolfram’s lips, but an unwelcome noise soon made him pause. At first it took a moment for both of them to process it, but soon it was clear to them that it was none other than the sound of the courtyard door closing shut. They both pulled away and whipped toward the sound, although no one appeared anywhere outside with them.

“D-did someone just come in?”

Wolfram, equally panicked, began to wipe a strand of spit from his lips. “I-I didn’t see anyone. Maybe it was from somewhere else?”

Not taking any chances, Yuuri lifted himself off of Wolfram, straightening out his clothes. Wolfram followed suit, clearing his throat nervously as he stood shoulder to shoulder with the demon king.

They listened in silence for a few minutes, but the only sounds they could hear were from the gurgle of the fountain and the steady flapping of butterfly wings.

“Uhm…” Yuuri started, but he suddenly felt nervous. What was he supposed to say now? Thank you for distracting me by letting me suck your face off?

However, he didn’t have to say anything– Wolfram had already grabbed his hand again. “Let’s go back.” Even though there was still a healthy blush staining his cheeks, he still managed to seem cool. “I’m sure it was the wind or something. ”

“Right,” Yuuri said quietly, swallowing thickly. The wind. “Hey Wolf?”

“Hm?”

“Everything was fine today, right?”

Wolfram could tell the Maou wanted him, needed him, to say everything was okay.

Wolfram tried to push away the conversation from dinner, tried to not think of the way Saralegui kept looking at Yuuri– how it looked like a predator carefully observing its prey through the bushes.

For the most part…

“Everything will be okay.” His hold on Yuuri’s hand tightened as he looked into the Maou’s searching eyes. Another comment flashed through Wolfram’s mind, and before he could help himself, he added, “We could, uhm… keep being distracted in our room, i-if you want.”

That swept away the lost look in Yuuri’s eyes and instead made him flush from head to toe. As Yuuri conceded, Wolfram breathed an inward sigh of relief.

Quietly, the flustered couple wound their way back through the stone path, minding their way as they stepped through the columns of shimmering butterflies and toward the exit. As they stalked back to their room, they didn’t notice that a figure, soundlessly leaning against one of the corridor’s walls, had carefully been watching them through intelligent blue eyes. 

Chapter Text

Saralegui never thought of himself as a selfish person.

In fact, he thought himself quite the opposite.

For my country was his sworn mantra. He always, always put Shou Shimaron above the things that he wanted in life, as any good, selfless king would do.

…However, there were times when it just so happened that what Shou Shimaron wanted and what he wanted would, coincidentally, be the same thing. Even if sometimes it seemed like it was for himself, Saralegui would most assuredly insist it was because it was in the best interest of his country.

Even now, as he contemplated the ways to tease and push the 27th Demon King’s limits, it was, ultimately, because it was for the benefit of Shou Shimaron.

Saralegui also never thought of himself as a sadistic person, per se. 

…Well, he couldn’t help it if others’ torment gave him a wild thrill from time to time. Deep down, though, he promised it didn’t come from a place of malice. It was just a part of who he was– a card in his kingdom’s deck he sometimes needed to use to win.

Saralegui also never thought he would enjoy his friendship with Yuuri as much as he did. And, sincerely, he really did enjoy Yuuri’s friendship.

But part of that enjoyment included seeing the demon king at his limits.

And man, did he enjoy every moment of that.

Every time the Maou sidestepped away from him.

Every time those black eyes were the first to break eye contact.

Every slight shiver that Saralegui sensed whenever he touched the other’s shoulder.

It was delicious, truly, to know that even though Yuuri was still afraid of him, it did not stop the demon king from putting on a brave face and metaphorically opening his arms to Saralegui. The thought made Saralegui’s breath hitch in excitement.

Yes, Yuuri truly was a remarkable king– Saralegui marveled in that simple fact.

But Saralegui knew he needed to test the other for the benefit of Shou Shimaron.

How much would the Maou be willing to face before it was too much?

And what, exactly, was Yuuri willing to sacrifice for his country?

These were all important things Saralegui absolutely needed to know before solidifying their alliance.

After all, what good would a broken king be to him?

Yes, a broken king… what good possibly was that?

Yuuri’s crying face and faraway eyes flashed in Saralegui’s mind at the thought.

The 27th Demon King, blind, begging, and broken– that memory was something the shinzoku would never be able to forget.

The thought that only he was able to see that side of Yuuri sent warmth throughout his body. It was a secret moment that could only ever be shared between him and the demon king. A secret moment not even his fiancé could ever have…The way that Yuuri had helplessly whimpered and clung on to Sara, sucking the few droplets of water shamelessly off his fingers. Saralegui shivered. It delighted him to no end to know there was a secret thread shared between them.

Fuck, it more than delighted him– it outright turned him on.

Saralegui lifted his own nightshirt, his hands beginning to roam over the naked skin underneath. He was alone in the private bedroom of the guest suite that Shin Makoku had set up for his envoy. His two right-hand retainers, Maycott and Grymbalde, had both seemed deep in conversation when they arrived back from dinner. Saralegui, bored with both of them, had decided to retire to his bedroom early on.

This was undoubtedly more fun than whatever they were doing.

He leaned against the wall of the bedroom and began to touch himself to the thought of the demon king. Saralegui felt his breathing quicken as the tips of fingers played with each pleasurable zone of his own body.

His mind conjured Yuuri’s smile through clenched teeth, his forced laughter, the slight gleam of fear in his black eyes as they held direct eye contact upon his arrival–

“Ah!” He gasped softly, his thin hand twisting up and down his length. Saralegui bit down on his quivering lip.

And what would Yuuri do if Sara pushed him too far?

The shinzoku recalled the unbridled fury of the Maou, the one he had witnessed in the deserts of Seisakoku. Saralegui imagined that enraged version of Yuuri grabbing him by his throat, threatening him–

Saralegui’s strokes began to grow more fervent, small moans escaping his mouth in delight.

He continued to revel in his corrupt visions, his climax growing closer and closer–

–until a knock came from the door, tearing through his twisted fantasy.

Saralegui’s expression immediately darkened. “What?” He answered, his tone dripping in displeasure.

From behind the door, a deep voice hesitated and then replied, “Your Majesty– apologies for interrupting you in your private chambers, but there is a matter Lord Maycott and I would like to discuss with you.”

The shinzoku paused for a moment, thinking. Grymbalde wouldn’t dare interrupt if it wasn’t something significant.

“...Fine.”

The boy king quickly got himself proper before opening the door. Ulrich Grymbalde and Morgan Maycott were sitting at the round wooden table in the middle of the suite, waiting patiently, a pot of tea between the two of them.

Morgan graciously smiled at Saralegui, gesturing toward the teapot. “Would His Majesty like some?”

“No,” Saralegui said, his voice clipped. “What was it that the two of you wanted to talk about this late at night?”

Ulrich glared at the strategist; however, it did not cause his smile to falter in the slightest. “Your Majesty, I took it upon myself to explore more of Blood Pledge Castle tonight, hoping to become more acquainted with the grounds. As I was enjoying the mazoku’s rich history and culture, I happened upon something much more interesting.”

Saralegui was unamused. “Please get on with it, Lord Maycott.”

“Very well,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. “I saw His Majesty Yuuri rather romantically entangled with Prince Wolfram in one of the gardens– which is interesting, after all, because I believe we were all under the impression that it was a sham engagement.” He kept his blue eyes fixed on the Shou Shimaron king. “Does this change anything for you, King Saralegui?”

The boy king’s expression became obscured behind the purple lenses of his glasses. Morgan glanced at Ulrich, who only shook his head in response.

“Your Majesty?”

Saralegui turned away from both of them and toward one of the large, arched windows of the suite. He clasped his hands from behind his back, fingertips discreetly digging into the skin of his wrist.

“How did you find them, Lord Maycott?”

“What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

Saralegui’s brows knitted in annoyance before he snapped. “What else could I possibly mean!? Were they hugging, kissing, fucking–?”

The boy king’s response felt like a slap in the face. Morgan flinched and subconsciously straightened his posture. From next to him, Ulrich had a very different response; he had to hold his hand over his mouth to cover the smirk that was spreading.

“...They were kissing, Your Majesty.”

“That’s all?”

Morgan looked away. “I didn’t quite follow them to their private chambers.”

Saralegui whipped around to glare at his retainer. With a snarl, he asked, “Lord Maycott, are you sure you’re my top intelligence officer?”

Ulrich’s grin faded, his own gaze now shifting away from the suffering Morgan to the shinzoku. “Your Majesty– may I speak plainly?”

The boy king huffed and looked at the military officer. Both of his retainers were older than him, with Ulrich being the eldest among the three. Saralegui usually did not care for age or rank when it came to who he did and did not respect, but he did hold Ulrich in rather high esteem. It possibly was the gray in his hair and beard that made him more distinguished, or maybe just because he exuded a certain air of authority that could pacify Saralegui with his common sense.

“...Go ahead.”

“Your Majesty, you know that Lord Maycott could not have possibly followed King Yuuri and Lord von Bielefeld. If he was caught, it would not look good for Shou Shimaron.”

The shinzoku narrowed his golden eyes. He turned his sharp gaze back to the cropped ponytailed man. “I would like to go back to my room. Was there anything else you wanted to add to your report? Lord Maycott?”

A soft smile willed itself back to the strategist’s lips. “No, sir.”

“Lord Grymbalde?”

Ulrich was silent for a moment, threading his hands together in contemplation. He started, “Like Lord Maycott said, I would also like to know what that means for your plans, King Saralegui.”

Saralegui turned back toward the window, crossing his arms against his chest. He let out a small huff. “I have to reassess now.”

Ulrich and Morgan were the only two in Shou Shimaron’s envoy that were the most clued into King Saralegui and his motives. Even though the boy king did not share everything that went on in his cunning mind, they were no strangers to the devious political ploys the shinzoku would plan. After all, when it came to Saralegui’s antics, it was Morgan’s responsibility to help inform him and Ulrich’s responsibility to calculate and curb the consequences. 

Ulrich reached out and lifted the teapot, pouring tea into both his and Morgan’s cups. “Please let us know before you do anything… brash, Your Majesty,” he steadily said, sipping from his own teacup. “I’m responsible for your messes, and I would prefer to not have any issues to clean up with this important of a political alliance on the line.”

There was no response for a minute, before Saralegui decided to move back toward his room. “Goodnight, you two– no more disturbances tonight, please. You can wake me early tomorrow morning to prepare for breakfast.” He then disappeared behind his door, leaving the two retainers at the table in passing silence.

“...Why are you allowed to talk to him so directly?” Morgan grumbled.

“Because I’m a dutiful servant,” Ulrich lightly chided. The corners of his lips turned slightly upward, almost hidden by his peppered scruff.

“Or because you’re just flat out old,” the other muttered behind his teacup, unhappy with his response.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“I would never, Lord Grymbalde.”

“As immature as ever, I see.”

Morgan mockingly held his hand against his chest in offense. “I don’t appreciate the slander. Is that how a man of the military acts?”

“Toward people I respect? No. Toward you? Yes.”

Morgan paused, studying the other’s face. He then dropped his hand, the smile returning devilishly. “You can just say you like me, you know.”

The brunette’s quirked one of his thick eyebrows. “What, did our King make you feel so terrible about yourself that now you have to tease old men to make yourself feel better? How sad.”

With a sigh, the strategist defeatedly leaned against the table, resting his chin atop his arms. “Maybe,” he admitted glumly. “I just want him to see me the way he sees you.”

“First of all, you need to stop talking to him like you’re friends,” the older man said pointedly, looking down at the strategist.

Morgan huffed. “Do I do that?”

“Yes.” Ulrich frowned, pushing his glasses up further. “And it is so apparent how much you want him to like you, as well. Just do your job and he’ll warm up to you.”

Morgan mulled over the other’s words. He sat back up, slender fingers wrapping around the small white teacup. His voice became serious. “Do you think he believes what I reported? I mean, I was also rather shocked– all the intelligence we gathered was incorrect, which concerns me that there are other things that are contradictory to what we know about Shin Makoku.”

Ulrich only shrugged. “There would be no reason for you to lie, Morgan. It may seem improbable, but it is not impossible. They are engaged, after all.”

“Yes, but we were under the pretty solid impression there was no chance this engagement would really go through.”

“Who are we to care what happens with Shin Makoku’s royal couple?”

Morgan grew impatient, unable to stop himself. “Well, that fucks with Our Majesty’s plan, doesn’t it?”

Silence. 

“...What are you talking about?”

“Uh…” The strategist cleared his throat a bit, fingertips drumming nervously against the table. 

A lightbulb went off and Ulrich’s frown deepened. “What else are the two of you planning behind my back?

“Nothing, really–!”

“ Christ , didn’t I tell both of you to include me in shit like this–?”

“His Majesty wanted it to be between us.”

The strategist swallowed hard, unable to look Ulrich in the face. In turn, Ulrich rubbed his temple in annoyance.

With an exasperated tone, the military official spat, “Just tell me.”

The other’s blue eyes shifted back and forth, hesitating. “We… we wanted to see if the Maou would annul his engagement.”

Ulrich let out an aggravated sigh. “And?”

“...and have him broker one with King Saralegui instead.”

“Let me guess– as a show of good faith for an alliance with Shou Shimaron?”

“–as a show of good faith for an alliance with Shou Shimaron.” Morgan parroted the same words back in defeat.

Both of Ulrich’s hands were now massaging his forehead.

“Is that why you were pressing Lord von Bielefeld at dinner?”

Morgan went back to his teacup, picking up a silver spoon and stirring the green liquid inside. “My job is to gather information.”

“Yeah, and my job is to ensure this shit goes smoothly," he growled. "And when the fuck was I supposed to be aware of this plan? Before or after the Maou kills us and declares war on Shou Shimaron?”

The man opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to say. After a while, he managed, “I was only doing what His Majesty asked.”

Finally unable to sit at the table any longer, Ulrich stood up. Morgan glanced at the older man’s vexed face. Trying to diffuse the tension in the air, he weakly joked, “Being upset doesn’t suit such a handsome face like that, you know.”

Ulrich’s glare ripped through him like knives.

“What is King Saralegui’s plan now?”

Quietly, Morgan responded, “I do not know.” With that, Ulrich turned to leave. The strategist stumbled after him, panicked. “Wait! I know I should have consulted you, I just…” The brunette’s voice faded, blue eyes gazing rather helplessly into the other retainer’s chocolate ones.

The older man faltered, looking at the younger official grabbing desperately onto his sleeve. He sighed, lifting one of his large hands and placing it atop the other’s head. Ulrich couldn’t help but notice how surprisingly soft and silky the man’s copper hair was under his own coarse fingers.

“I know. I know you want his approval,” Ulrich said, shaking his head. His gaze then darkened, and the fingers that were gently caressing Morgan’s scalp moved to roughly grip the base of his ponytail. Forcibly, Ulrich then yanked at the other’s hair to pull him closer. 

“Nh!” Morgan winced, his face now practically pressed against the other’s chest. He felt his heart rate rapidly speed up.

The older man leaned in, beard brushing against the younger’s face as he whispered in his ear.

“I like you. But if you do this shit again, you’re going to have to grovel to get my favor back.” Morgan tried to push away from him, but the other’s grasp only tightened. “We are doing what’s best for Shou Shimaron– not for that brat. Remember that.”

With a whimper, Morgan barely nodded his head, aware of the growing pain around his head. Finally, Ulrich let go, causing the other to clumsily stumble back.

“Are we all clear, Lord Maycott?”

Morgan bit down on his lip, still boldly meeting the other’s fierce gaze. “Yes, Lord Grymbalde.”

“Goodnight, then.”

As Morgan watched the other leave, he gingerly touched the spot on the back of his head where the other had grabbed him. His heart was still pounding.

This feeling–

The strategist could not stop the twisted smile that wound its way onto his lips.

Chapter Text

“We should have had this conversation last night–!”

“—it was not the time, Big Brother!”

“Every minute we have to debrief is important so that we are all on the same page. What don’t you get about that?”

“And Yuuri’s peace of mind is even more important– what don’t you get about that ?!”

Gwendal and Wolfram had been at it since the moment he and Yuuri had arrived. As promised, the royal couple showed up early to the Voltaire brother’s study to discuss Shou Shimaron’s first day in Shin Makoku. What was promised as a quick debriefing was easily turning into an endless back-and-forth. Typically, Wolfram respected his older brother and would remain passive while being lectured, no matter how harsh Gwendal’s words could be; however, the dark-haired mazoku had snapped at him just enough that the blonde was pushing back on his brother’s words. Helplessly, G ü nter stood between them, trying to mediate some semblance of a peaceful discussion. 

Somewhat away from the chaos, Murata sat back at a table with Yuuri, watching the brothers bicker. He had been half-invested in the conversation, but soon lost interest in what the actual point of their argument was. Bored, the Great Sage nudged Yuuri. In a hushed voice, he whispered, “Shibuya, you actually look well-rested today. That’s a little surprising… y’know, with all things considered.”

Yuuri had also been half-listening to the noise around them. The demon king blinked at his friend, bringing a finger up to scratch his face nervously. “You think so?”

Murata leaned closer and let a mischievous grin appear on his face. “I guess Lord von Bielefeld has been putting that mouth of his to good use–?”

Yuuri’s hand promptly clamped over the double-black sage’s mouth.

“Ahaha, I don’t know what you’re talking about… Günter! Can you please get them to stop!”

Günter reflexively straightened. “R-right, Your Majesty!” He tried to squeeze himself between the inflamed Gwendal and Wolfram. “Ah, now– Gwendal, Wolfram, let’s just take a moment so we can all understand, please,” the white-haired adviser attempted in his most soothing voice, which only earned glares of annoyance from the two brothers. “What happened last night?”

“Shou Shimaron was drilling my ignorant little brother here on engagement questions,” Gwendal said bitterly. Wolfram rolled his eyes.

“Hmph.”

“Oh?” Günter curiously looked at the blonde in turn. “And what was so wrong with that? What exactly was said?”

“Do you want to tell him, or should I?”

Wolfram’s body stiffened. “Erm…” His eyes shifted toward Yuuri. The Maou was looking at them both, face scrunched in earnesty.

“Very well,” Gwendal said, eyebrows creasing. “It was pretty clear Lord Maycott was trying to establish the authenticity of His Majesty’s engagement to my little brother.” He scoffed a bit and added, “And that Lord Grymbalde seemed to question His Majesty’s loyalty toward the mazoku of Shin Makoku, too.”

Everyone processed the information in brief silence. It was the Great Sage who spoke up first.

“Do you agree with that, Lord von Bielefeld? Was that their intent?”

The blonde hesitated a moment before a frustrated sigh left him. “Big Brother probably isn’t too far off… there was something about that conversation that left me feeling uneasy afterwards.”

“Wolfram, why didn’t you mention that last night?” Yuuri sat up, frowning. 

Wolfram dropped his gaze, guiltily rubbing the back of his neck. “It seemed like it could wait– there was a lot going on.” The heel of his boot scuffed against the tiled floor. “Plus, we shouldn’t be surprised if Saralegui's advisers have just as sharp tongues as he does. I wouldn’t expect anything less of that guy– his retainers are just as slimy as he is.”

The Maou shook his head. “So what does this mean, you guys?”

Günter stepped forward and made a small, pensive noise, his hand thoughtfully rubbing his chin. “Your Majesty– if I may, they just may be looking for, ah, certain weaknesses to exploit.” Seeing as Yuuri’s face was still more or less a question mark, the white-haired advisor hesitantly continued. “Respectfully, your betrothal to Lord von Bielefeld does not seem the most… ah!” Günter abruptly covered his face in shame, his inner turmoil winning over his professionalism. “How do I say this without offending His Majesty?!”

“Outside opinion sees your engagement to my younger brother as unstable, Your Majesty– but that news should not surprise anyone in this room.” Gwendal said pointedly, staring down at the Maou. He did not mince his words. Yuuri’s face remained frozen as a heavier silence settled around the group. “Typically, what others think does not matter in this situation, as it is your own personal business. However…” The dark-haired mazoku let out another sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation between his index and thumb. “However, now we have foreign dignitaries using your shaky marriage plans as a ploy for their own political gain. When outsiders try to wedge themselves into our country more than they should, we should worry, Your Majesty.”

“It would be a good point of attack for Shou Shimaron,” Murata reluctantly agreed, pushing up the thin frames of his glasses. “If they see an opening like that, they could try to push a different kind of union between our two countries. If that happens, it would be trickier to come up with reasons to turn down joining Shou Shimaron and Shin Makoku through…” The Great Sage seemed to hesitate, before letting slip the last word, “...matrimony.” 

Yuuri nearly choked. He suddenly stood from his seat, frantically looking around the room. “W-what are we even talking about right now?!” His face had entirely blanched. “Are you saying S-sara will try…?”

“If they think they have a chance, it’s not out of the question, Your Majesty,” Günter admitted solemnly.

The world suddenly rushed toward the Maou. Yuuri felt the blackness manifest and shove itself back down inside him, forcing itself down within his throat. He gasped for air as his vision blurred, feeling his body sway with unsteadiness. In a moment, Wolfram was at his fiancé’s side, helping guide him back into the safety of his seat.

Once Yuuri was settled, Wolfram whipped back toward the others, a sinister fire burning deep within him. “And how would Saralegui be able to even go through with that as a plan?”

Gwendal took a seat behind his desk. The stack of papers on his desk seemed to have magically doubled overnight, he mentally noted. His fingers toyed with the quill in front of him, rolling the pen between his fingers. “If he has a compelling enough argument, he could bring it up in front of the Ten Aristocrats. Shin Makoku does have a regulation in place that if an engagement does not seem viable, an outside party may object and appeal that it be nullified.” Next to Yuuri, Murata gave a short nod of agreement before placing his hand in comfort on his friend’s shoulder.

Yuuri swallowed, still struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “But what does he know of Wolfram and I? What right does he have to say anything about us?”

Gwendal’s frown had only deepened. For a moment, though, his sharp gaze seemed to soften around the edges before looking away. “Like I said, your relationship does not look solid to others. He would have a case.”

“And what would an engagement between Sara and I look like?!” Yuuri practically spat, unable to hold back his horror. “There’s no love there!”

That made the Voltaire brother stiffen, before turning back toward the Maou. His deep blue eyes held an indistinct expression, like written words blurred behind frosted glass. “And there is between you and my brother?”

Next to him, Wolfram visibly flinched.

“I–” The Maou’s voice died in his throat. Wolfram… that’s different . Yuuri felt a rush of mixed feelings crawl under his skin, making his blood freeze. What…? He swallowed again. He didn’t dare look at blonde.

The Voltaire brother twirled the pen in his hand, unaffected. “Love is not a requirement in marriages like these, Your Majesty. It is a privilege, at best.”

No one spoke, but most eyes were trained on the Maou’s reaction. Yuuri could only tighten his hands into fists, his body silently shaking. The only one not looking directly at Yuuri was Wolfram, who had turned his head away from the group.

“Lord von Voltaire, why do you think so surely that Saralegui could make a compelling case in front of the Ten Aristocrats?” It was Murata’s voice who cut through the tension, seemingly as always. It seemed he was intent on steering the conversation back to why they were all here in the first place.

“Simple. They would have more to gain– politically and financially– from His Majesty marrying a king than another Shin Makoku noble.”

“Hm,” the double-black sage mused, mulling over Gwendal’s words. “So by your logic, would the Voltaires and Christs gain a lot from annulling His Majesty’s engagement? The Karbelnikoffs? Wolfram’s uncle?”

“Your Eminence,” Gwendal said, an edge to his voice. “I can’t speak for Densham or Waltrana, but Günter and myself would not be the ones to worry about. Either way, that’s not something we want to gamble on.”

Fervently, Günter added, “We would never betray His Majesty like that.”

Murata pursed his lips. “Hmm.” He then raised both his hands in a nonchalant shrug, trying to melt the worry away. “Anyways, do we really believe that this is King Saralegui’s goal? Would taking the risk of breaking up Shibuya’s engagement really be in Shou Shimaron’s best interest?”

The Voltaire brother sighed and rubbed his temple. This conversation had drained him and the day had barely even begun. “Again– it’s a real possibility, which is why I said we should have spoken earlier. We just don’t know what Shou Shimaron is planning.”

“Well, that’s true– the only thing that is for certain is that it is difficult to know exactly what Saralegui is thinking, which isn’t very helpful,” Murata conceded with a shake of his head. “For all we know, he could be after something different. We shouldn’t immediately jump to conclusions… right, Lord von Voltaire?”

The dark-haired mazoku  remained silent but Günter chimed in, clasping his hands enthusiastically together. “His Eminence is right– we shouldn’t worry His Majesty with all of this speculation! We should just focus on hosting Shou Shimaron and securing the alliance, as originally planned. It won’t do as good to overthink every little thing.”

Gwendal made a noise of disapproval, turning to look out the window behind him. Under his breath, he muttered, “Hmph. We should still stay vigilant.”

“Of course we will, Gwendal,” Günter agreed. Suddenly, Günter’s face changed as he caught sight of Yuuri. “Are you okay, Your Majesty?”

The Maou remained silent, slightly hunched over in his chair, eyes fixated on the floor. Wolfram leaned over and gently rubbed his shoulder. “Yuuri?”

“Yeah,” he said in a small voice. “I’m fine.”

The blonde’s green eyes filled with concern. “Could you all give Yuuri and I a moment of privacy, please?”

The others looked at each other, before wordlessly agreeing to get up. As they slowly filtered out of the study, Gwendal said, “Don’t forget– we will have breakfast with Shou Shimaron in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, Big Brother,” Wolfram responded, before hurrying to shut the door after the group. He turned back toward Yuuri, walking over and kneeling in front of the seated demon king.

“Yuuri?” He asked again with worry thick in his voice. “Please ignore what Big Brother said. I think he’s more paranoid about Shou Shimaron’s visit than he lets on. He’s especially on edge, since Conrart isn’t here, either…”

The Maou’s hands balled into tight fists, gripping the dark fabric of his pants. “But what if Gwendal’s right and that’s exactly what Sara’s planning? I wouldn’t be able to–” The words seized up in Yuuri’s throat again and he immediately clutched at his neck.

“Yuuri! Breathe,” Wolfram ordered, shaking the demon king lightly. “Breathe– inhale, exhale.” 

Inhale .

Yuuri felt the breath get stuck within him. All he could imagine was a wave of panic welling up and crushing down on him in full force.

The Maou’s body began to tremble. Desperate to help, Wolfram’s hands threaded themselves into Yuuri’s own. “It’s okay– breathe with me.” The blonde took a deep breath and Yuuri shakily followed suit with the inhale. He then exhaled slowly, eyes staying locked on the Maou’s the whole time. Yuuri tried to quell the nerves and pushed the air out of his lungs as best as he could.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing together. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale .

“...Okay?”

“Okay,” Yuuri finally managed between breaths. “Okay. I’m okay.” 

Wolfram continued to kneel in front of the Maou. His hands left Yuuri’s and slowly travelled up and down his arms, rubbing them tenderly in reassurance. As he did so, the blonde then leaned forward and pressed his forehead up toward the black-haired boy’s own.

Why does he always smell so good? Yuuri couldn’t help but think to himself, drinking in the smell of floral notes that blurred the background noise in the Maou’s head. The only thing in focus now for Yuuri was Wolfram. His hand slowly reached up to stroke Wolfram’s cheek, knuckles brushing gently under his fair eyelashes. Yuuri’s breathing had evened out.

Inhale.

The demon king slowly guided the other’s face closer to his own.

Exhale.

As his lips were about to meet Wolfram’s, the blonde turned his face away. 

…Huh?

Yuuri wordlessly watched as Wolfram pulled back. Wolfram would not meet his own helpless gaze; instead, a sadness shimmered on the emerald surface of his downcast eyes. Something cold churned within Yuuri’s stomach.

“...Wolf?”

The blonde’s lips twisted. After a minute, all he said was, “I… I just don’t know if this is the time for this.” Despite his contradictory words, Wolfram wrapped his arms around the Maou’s back. Holding the other tight, he buried his own face into Yuuri’s stomach.

A cloud of confusion danced around the Maou. Why didn’t Wolfram want to kiss him? As he opened his mouth to press the blonde further, the door of Gwendal’s study slammed open. 

“Shibuya!”

It was Murata. With Yuuri on the chair and a kneeling Wolfram practically between his legs, the Maou couldn’t help but feel his cheeks burn. The demon king could only brace himself for whatever racy suggestion they were about to get thrown their way by the Great Sage.

However, the trademark teasing never came.

Instead, the double-black sage approached them, face hardened in seriousness. Wolfram released Yuuri, rising back up next to him. “Shibuya, there’s been a change of plans.”

“Huh?!” Both boys asked in bewildered unison. 

“Saralegui has asked that you forgive him, as he will not be attending breakfast with you. Instead, he asked to reschedule to discuss today’s plans during a late morning tea,” Murata reported, his expression unchanging.

Yuuri stared at his friend, raising a doubtful eyebrow. “Oh… is that all?”

“No.”

No?

“Then what is it, Murata?”

“He has requested that you not be present, Shibuya.”

“...not …be present?” Yuuri asked incredulously, pointing to himself. How does that work?!

Yuuri felt torn– of course, he didn’t want to see the shinzoku… but at the same time, he was the king! The whole point was that he was supposed to be there! How was he going to have a meeting without him?!

“Then…?” The Maou could only stare dumbly at the Great Sage. Next to him, Wolfram was just as stumped. “Is he going to have tea with everyone else?”

“No, not exactly…” Murata responded, crossing his arms. Yuuri’s eyebrows knitted together as he intensely studied his friend’s odd behavior.

“He’s going to have tea… alone?”

“Also no…”

“Murata, what’s going on then?!” Yuuri asked, finally frustrated. “Just say it!”

“Saralegui has instead asked that, for today, only Lord von Bielefeld join him at tea.”

Chapter Text

Yuuri was still processing the double black sage’s words.

“I’m sorry, what ?”

From his spot in front of the pair, Murata flinched; he looked as if he had just been slapped right across the face with the demon king’s disbelieving stare.

“A minute ago, a note from one of Saralegui’s guards was delivered to Lord von Christ. It said to forgive him for not attending breakfast and that he would like to have tea with Lord von Bielefeld later this morning… as a means to get to know him better.”

The Maou was still floored. “But… why? It’s the first full day, why would he…?”

“I don’t know,” Murata flatly admitted, eyes still not fully meeting his friend’s. “If I’m being honest, I’m sure it’s just another way to throw us off and keep our team on edge…” He let a sigh escape. “However, I also don’t think he means anything malicious by having this meeting with Lord von Bielefeld… it’s suspicious, but I can’t imagine he will do anything untoward.”

It was clear that Wolfram was also still trying to absorb the new change in plans, too. Next to Yuuri, he seemed paler than normal, eyes lost in a cloud of internal speculation.

The Maou raised his hand to reach toward the blonde. Seeing the movement from the corner of his eye, Wolfram snapped back to reality and discreetly stepped away to evade the other’s touch. Yuuri’s hand froze in midair, suspended in distraught rejection. A small part of his heart throbbed painfully.

“Understood– I’ll meet with him.” 

Wolfram’s voice was quiet but firm. Murata solemnly nodded.

“Just be careful and report the conversation to us afterwards, Lord von Bielefeld.”

“I know,” he said, furrowing his brows, a look of uneasiness returning to his fair facial features.

“Also, remember to be pleasant, Lord von Bielefeld,” Murata lightly warned, a strained smile forcing its way onto his face.

This only earned an eye roll from the mazoku. “I don’t need the Great Sage telling me to smile more, thank you very much.”

Even though the pair next to him were joking, Yuuri was still floundering in worry. His hand had fallen by his side, fingers clawing at the fabric of his pants. “Wolfram…” He didn’t know what to say, yet he still wanted the blonde’s attention.

Wolfram hesitantly cast a sideways glance at his fiancé. He lashes lowered over his gaze, pretty mouth flattening into a hard line again. Finally, he managed, “Yuuri, I don’t know why he’s asked, but it will be okay. I’ll be alert, so don’t worry.”

Yuuri’s insides twisted.

“Focus on getting through this to get that alliance. I don’t like the guy, but I’ll play my part, too–” Wolfram let out a small huff. “As long as he behaves.”

The Maou bit his lip but conceded. “Okay, just… be careful.” While he knew who , he didn’t know exactly what Wolfram should be careful of, exactly. Still, he felt better parting with those simple words. He did not, however, like parting with this sudden iciness lingering between them.

Throughout breakfast, Yuuri struggled to think of anything that was rational or helpful. Thought after disruptive thought blotted out any clarity he had, like thick ink spilling and staining a blank piece of paper. For one thing, he kept catastrophizing all the ways that the tea party could treacherously end between Saralegui and Wolfram. Not being able to be there to control whatever would happen next gnawed holes in his stomach.

Besides imagining the conversation between the two blondes, Yuuri also kept thinking back to Wolfram subtly pulling away from him. First was the kiss, then when he reached out…

But then why had Wolfram been allowed to touch him?

Stop thinking about it , the demon king scolded himself. He needed to pull himself together. Focus on how he’s supporting you right now . Focus on making sure he’ll be okay with … Desperately, Yuuri thought back to what Murata said about how Saralegui and his team would be dumb to try something right under their nose… it would be dumb of them, right? The Maou grit his teeth and tried to shake away the discord drumming in his head.

But at the same time, that was exactly what the shinzoku would do– he never missed an opportunity to extend his claws into anything within his grasp. Even though Yuuri hadn’t known him for terribly long, he was confident in his painting of the other’s moral profile. 

While the Maou was being tormented by his own thoughts, Wolfram entered the west wing of the castle a quarter after nine. As expected, the mazoku had made sure there was nothing in his outward appearance out of place– his hair was coiffed and clothes pressed, prim and ready for his tea with the King of Shou Shimaron. He was not going to let Saralegui see him ruffled in any sense of the word.

Like Yuuri, Wolfram had also been immediately suspicious of the invitation. Saralegui had previously had no interest in Wolfram in the past when it came to his fascination with the Maou, and he had been no stranger in making his apathy toward the blonde mazoku known. Nothing had happened between them since yesterday– so what exactly had sparked this meeting?

Wolfram was both wary and wanting– no, needing– to find out why.

He let that drive try to push out the earlier unpleasant moment from Gwendal’s study.

“What would an engagement between Sara and I look like?! There’s no love there!”

“And there is between you and my brother?”

Yuuri’s deafening silence had felt like a ton of bricks crushing down on Wolfram’s chest. After all, what did Wolfram exactly expect from the Maou? What were he and Yuuri doing– what even were they, at this point?

He didn’t want to dwell on it, afraid of the vitriol dripping from the voices that laid in wait in his head.

The son of the previous Maou squared his jaw. Stilling any expression on his face, Wolfram held his head high as he entered the tearoom reserved for special occasions. Overall, while it was a quaint room with somewhat modest decorations, Wolfram thought it was probably one of the nicest rooms in the castle. The walls were papered in eggshell white, thick green trims underlining the crown molding. Ivy and other draping greens sat elegantly on the stone pillars placed along the room. Throughout, natural light gently poured in through a floor-length window the size of the back wall. Wolfram was surprised he was the first there, expecting the shinzoku to have already been perfectly seated atop one of the plush maroon chairs.

“Lord von Bielefeld?” The lilting voice came from directly behind the blonde mazoku. 

“King Saralegui,” Wolfram turned around, suppressing any surprise that wanted to jump forth. Unsurprisingly, the King of Shou Shimaron was dressed as handsomely as ever. His silky pale hair was gathered up in a jade claw clip the color of forest moss, two twin strands left out to frame his heart-shaped face. He wore a light blue coat that covered most of his body, dyed fur fringing his long sleeves and high neckline.

“Excuse me if I am late,” he started, entering the tearoom. The two guards he arrived with did not follow and merely stood by the door, seemingly having already been given that direction prior to their arrival. Wolfram’s eyes flicked from them and back to the shinzoku as he followed him further into the room.

Almost out of nowhere, a pair of maids stepped in front of them to pull out a seat for each of the two nobles. With grace, the pair sat down, each still keeping a keen, composed eye on the other. Saralegui continued the conversation. “Apologies, Lord von Bielefeld. I had a hard time deciding what to wear. After all, I’m in the company of someone who appreciates style.”

Internally, Wolfram critically regarded the compliment. Externally, he forced a smile, trying to appear ‘pleasant.’ “You look nothing short of regal, I will give you that.”

Saralegu leaned forward as if interested in something, threading his fingers together and resting his chin daintily on top of the backs of his hands. “Why thank you, Lord von Biefeld. I’m curious– what does Yuuri think of things like this?”

“You mean fashion?” Wolfram asked. “He doesn’t have much of a sense of it, I guess.”

At that, Saralegui let out a small chuckle. The maids returned; one brought out an elegant teapot, pouring hot tea into the delicate cups in front of them. The other maid delicately placed a three-tiered tray of assorted sandwiches, pastries, and biscuits near them. Saralegui gracefully reached out and took a buttered croissant, laying it delicately on his scallop-rimmed plate.

“Really? But black is his signature style– surely he must take some credit for it. It’s so sleek, after all.”

Wolfram could feel the other watching him as he took a sip of his tea. “Well… let’s just say that Yuuri takes advantage of his stylist here at the castle.”

The shinzoku grinned and cocked a slender eyebrow. “Would that be you, Lord von Bielefeld?”

Wolfram kept his emerald eyes coolly locked on Saralegui’s own. “As his fiancé, that is one of my jobs.”

The King of Shou Shimaron allowed a moment of silence to pass. “Yes, Yuuri’s fiancé– how wonderful.” His eyes flicked down toward his croissant. Then, those thin fingers ripped a piece of warm, flaky bread off. However, instead of popping it into his mouth, he silently tore it to shreds. “Thank you for coming to meet me for tea, Lord von Bielefeld.”

“My pleasure,” Wolfram replied, watching the other’s fingers carefully. Then, before he could stop himself, he said, “So why did you invite me to tea, King Saralegui?” Wolfram was sure if his older brother heard him talking like this to a foreign dignitary that he would immediately have an aneurysm. 

Saralegui blinked twice before breaking out into a smile. “I appreciate someone who gets to the point,” the boy king silkily responded. “You see, I feel like we could be great friends, you and I.” Saralegui stopped bothering with the mess on his plate and picked up an embroidered napkin on the table, gently wiping off his well-manicured fingers. “After all, we have an important common interest– King Yuuri.”

“...I see.” 

“And I’m sure we only want to keep our precious Yuuri happy and at ease, yes?”

Wolfram furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Hm? I mean exactly what I said, of course.”

“King Saralegui,” the mazoku said, his tone level. Fuck it all, he was going to keep his direct approach. “What are you planning?”

“Planning? Me?” Sara repeated with a feigned innocence. His smile deepened. “There’s that directness again. I like it.” His crescent eyes flashed behind his purple lenses. “I just intend to get to know you better, Lord von Bielefeld– no, Wolfram . May I call you that?” The blonde mazoku bristled at how his name rolled off the other’s tongue, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. I can’t let Yuuri down– I don’t know what he’s up to yet, but him involving me is definitely a test. 

But what kind of test? And who exactly was it for?

“You may call me whatever you wish,” Wolfram yielded. Each word, however, felt like it was being ground out with stone.

“Please– call me Sara.”

“I think I am more comfortable with King Saralegui."

“Oh? Aren’t you a stubborn one,” the shinzoku teased. “You look like you want to say something. Please, say it– I want us to build our… relationship.”

Wolfram sucked in a breath, trying to suppress a shiver. He went back to focusing on the task at hand.

“Are you… are you actually here to sign an alliance with him?”

Sara’s voice developed a more serious tone. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’ A small silence hung in the air, during which the boy king languidly stirred his drink. “Dai Shimaron is a thorn in my side– having Seisakoku and Shin Makoku both as allies is a useful card in my deck. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The blonde mazoku took a moment to absorb what the other was saying. It made sense, which gave Wolfram some– some – trust in the shinzoku’s words. However, he still wasn’t fully buying it.

“So why a formal visit, then? Why not just send out an alliance in writing? Yuuri would have signed it.”

Saralegui hummed, setting his teaspoon down. “Is it bad to want to know a little more about the mazoku? After all, Yuuri visited my homelands; it’s only fair I pay his country a visit to see if it truly reflects his reign.”

“...And you’re only here for an alliance?”

Static crackled between the intensity of the two blondes’ locked eyes.

“What else could I possibly want?”

The staredown between them was coupled now with an uncomfortable silence. As Wolfram maintained eye contact, his thoughts were running a million miles per minute in his head. I can think of a few things , he bitterly thought. Instead, he went on asking, “Then what do you think of your visit so far?”

Possibly trying to break through tension thick in the air, the shinzoku beamed. “I’m satisfied so far. I want Yuuri to take us into town later today– I would love to see him with his people.” He paused, before looking the mazoku up and down. “And I want you to come and be our guide.”

Wolfram was taken aback. “Why me?”

“Simply put, you have the most authentic experience of being a full-blooded mazoku. You also have the privilege of being the son of a previous Maou. Who else to better learn from?”

The blonde’s lips twisted. “Our royal adviser, Lord Günter von Chr–”

Sara politely put up his hands and gave a dismissive wave. “Yes, we were introduced, but… my advisors and I prefer– how do I say this– brief communications.” Wolfram thought that was fair enough, albeit diplomatically dicey. To not have the official coordinator of this diplomatic alliance on an official tour… Wolfram figured it would still be okay, but he knew his Big Brother would not be pleased in the slightest. Surely, Sarlegui was not someone to bear the burden of bureaucracy if there was another way around.

 “...Right. I’ll let Yuuri know, then.”

“Great! I’m glad that you understand,” Saralegui chirped, practically jumping up from his seat. He genuinely seemed pleased with himself. “Now, if you excuse me, there are some things I want to write down for our tour later. Please give Yuuri my regards.”

Wolfram nodded and watched as the boy king headed rather abruptly toward the exit. The guards standing outside drew to attention, faces expressionless. Before he fully disappeared, he turned back toward the mazoku.

“Wolfram– I do want to get to know you, truly. I am here to understand more about the things Yuuri loves , after all.”

Wolfram could have sworn that the way the shinzoku said love was practically a sneer. He inwardly shuddered, watching the boy king of Shou Shimaron retreat back into the halls of Blood Pledge Castle.

“What?!”

The chorus of words echoed around Lord von Voltaire’s study, where they had reconvened– it had been about two hours since they were here last. After his meeting with Saralegui, Wolfram had sent for the king and his retainers to brief them on Shou Shimaron’s request. He relayed to them, practically word for word, his tea with the shinzoku. Presently, Yuuri sat in one of the plush chairs, no less confused than he was earlier in the morning.

From a corner, Günter sobbed pathetically. “Not even King Saralegui likes GünGün…”

“No one likes you when you talk like that,” Gwendal muttered, scowling.

Murata tapped his own chin with his finger as the others watched on.

“What do you think he’s plotting, His Eminency?”

“You know, I’m not quite sure just yet,” the Great Sage admitted, smiling guiltily. He looked at Yuuri. “Don’t worry, Shibuya– I’ll figure it out. I have some theories.”

“Hmm.” Yuuri’s eyebrows creased.  “...but, more importantly, why Wolfram?”

Wolfram’s emerald eyes darted toward his fiancé.

Anissina smirked. “Isn’t it obvious? He wants His Majesty’s beautiful wife for himself.”

A few groans were heard around the room. At the thought, Yuuri’s face almost became green. Not amused with the comment, Gwendal shook his head. “King Saralegui is not that simple. It’s not that.”

From his place, Wolfram scoffed. “What’s with that response? It can’t just be because of my good looks?”

“No,” Gwendal moved toward his window, looking pensively down across the courtyard. “Either way, I’ll accompany you both.” There was no room for anyone to question or second guess his decision– his statement was final.

“That means you’ll have to be with his retainers, then,” Wolfram casually remarked. He lifted an eyebrow in amusement at Gwendal’s immediate look of disdain.

His older brother grumbled. “I don’t like that Grymbalde’s attitude.”

“You don’t have to come, Big Brother.”

“Yes, I do.”

Amusedly, Anissina threw her arm around her longtime friend, those blue eyes burning brightly. In a singsong voice, she teased, “You and Grymbalde could be twins, Gwen. Practically mirror copies of each other. Gwendal, Grymbalde– I see no difference. Grumpy, old, serious, ancient, and so on…”

He shot her a glare and shoved her arm off of his shoulder. “Why are you even here, exactly?”

She cocked her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Don’t you have a patient to be attending to?”

“Ah, yes,” she started, straightening up. She then stood directly in front of Yuuri, her hands confidently poised on her hips. “Your Majesty, I have some good news.”

Yuuri was ripped from his daze. He blinked and looked up at the lady with the hair the color of fire.

“Yozak Gurrier has made a full recovery!”