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Chapter Text

It was the kind of day that felt like a gift. The sun hung high in the endless blue sky, spilling golden warmth across the land of Demons, as if blessing it with a long-awaited summer, the light touched everything with a tender hand-soft and glowing as if the heavens themselves were smiling. After years steeped in sorrow and storms, peace had finally made its home here, and it was embraced with grateful hearts.

It was a season of joy-pure, overwhelming joy, the air itself shimmered with excitement. In Shin Makoku, you could feel it pulsing through the streets like a heartbeat, the hum of anticipation wrapping around every soul, human and demon alike. Passion swelled like a rising tide, fluttering in every chest, sparkling in every eye. The years behind them had been etched with hardship-bitter winters of war and loss-but now, something extraordinary was approaching: a reunion spoken of in breathless whispers, a gathering not seen for centuries. A dream reborn.

Hope had taken root again, and at last, its blossoms were beginning to bloom.

Even within the majestic halls of Blood Pledge Castle, the mood was contagious. Maids flitted about like butterflies, cheeks rosy and eyes gleaming with giddy joy. Delicate laughter echoed from corridor to corridor, the sound as light and effervescent as champagne. It was impossible not to be swept up in it. The air buzzed with a sweet, dizzying sort of happiness-like love had been bottled up and now poured freely through every room.

Ribbons of deep green and black-rich as forest and shadow-curled and streamed from balconies and banisters, kissed with flecks of pristine white. Black roses, solemn but beautiful, clustered in elegant bunches, each one tied with silken emerald strands. Petals danced along the floors, strewn like confetti, while more ribbons fluttered from the walls in graceful arcs. To an outsider, it may have seemed excessive, almost theatrical. But those who knew the kingdom’s wounds, its scars-those who had tasted its suffering-understood: this was not decoration. This was healing. This was finally letting go.

Yet, amid the celebrations, in a quiet chamber tucked away from the jubilant halls, a single soul trembled.

The small Omega, heart caught between fear and wonder, lingered in the room that had once been his sanctuary. The chamber where, all those years ago, he had been brought after being rescued-no, reclaimed. The air still held echoes of laughter and lullabies, sometimes, in the quiet, he imagined he could hear his mother’s voice beyond the wall, soft and loving.

Wolfram von Bielefeld. The name that now belonged to a prince, a fiancé, a symbol of hope but once-he had been just a number. A child with no voice, no name, stolen from his mother’s arms before he could speak, once a slave, now a bride-to-be.

He stood in the middle of the room, awkward and unsure, fingers twitching with nerves. The bed was dressed in the same soft sky-blue sheets as he remembered. On the desk, a small black bear sat patiently, surrounded by an army of pastel-knitted creatures-gifts from his eldest brother. Everything looked the same. But he had changed.

It was almost unreal. Once, he had knelt in the dust, scrubbing floors until his fingers bled, cooking with blistered hands, digging through gardens with aching feet. He had known nothing of his lineage, of his name. He had believed himself abandoned-cast aside for being born an Omega, a creature whispered about in shame.

But none of it had been true.
His family had never stopped loving him. Never stopped searching. When he had been taken, it had broken them.

Sometimes, when he let himself remember-when he dared to sink into the past-his hands would ache, the ghost of old scars burning beneath his skin.

And yet, here he was. Standing in the room where everything had started… on the edge of a future he never dared dream for.

Wolfram swallowed hard, his throat tightening around the rush of emotions blooming like wildflowers in his chest. He bit down on his bottom lip, a little too sharply, and winced. Maybe… maybe it was all just too much. Too much joy. Too many memories. Too fast.

But then again-hadn’t it already been nearly five years? Five whole years since he’d been rescued and brought back to the Blood Pledge Castle. A whole year since the kingdom's ancient laws were rewritten, reshaped by hope and courage. All thanks to…

His gaze drifted, almost absentmindedly, and landed on the small black bear sitting quietly on the desk. His lips curved into a soft, shy smile. Slowly, he stepped toward it, as if approaching a treasured memory.

The bear was one of the first things ever given to him-freely, lovingly. A gift from Earth, from a time that felt like a half-remembered dream. Was it even called a visit back then? Wolfram let out a breathy, amused sound. No, he had been dragged there-spirited away in a huff just to escape Gwendal’s orders, Conrad’s concern, and the ever-watchful eyes of the castle. It felt like a different life.

He reached out with gentle hands and picked up the bear, holding it close against his chest. Its fur was still velvety soft beneath his fingertips, a dusky black, and a darker ribbon was tied neatly around its neck like a secret.

A blush bloomed across his cheeks, and he gave a quiet, bashful laugh. The bear had been won for him-during what humans called a date. The word still felt strange and tender on his tongue, even after all this time. That day had been chaotic, clumsy, sweet… and special. So very special.

He pressed his nose into the bear’s fur, inhaling deeply. The scent-faint but still there-smelled like spun sugar and innocence. Cotton candy. It made his heart ache, in the loveliest way.

His reverie was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Wolfram blinked, startled. His golden eyes flicked toward the sound, wide and curious. The door creaked open just enough to reveal a familiar voice, a familiar silhouette.

“Wolfe? You in here?” came the gentle, teasing call.

A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding slipped from his lips in a rush of quiet relief. The nerves that had been building in his stomach softened just a little. A smile began to form before he’d even turned fully toward the doorway.

“Thorn! You're here!” he chimed, his voice a melody of delight.

Thorn stepped into the room, her wide grin as warm as sunlight. Her amber eyes sparkled with mischief and love. She didn’t look that different-still so effortlessly strong, still carrying that calm grace he remembered. Her dark hair now brushed her shoulders in soft waves, and the freckles on her skin had deepened with time. Gone were the tattered black dresses and the ever-present apron. Today, she wore a soft yellow gown, simple but radiant-just like her.

She had once been his gentle caretaker. His anchor. His comfort. When the world had been cold and cruel, she was the one who’d knelt beside him, whispering kindness, wrapping bandages around his wounds, sewing torn fabric with tender fingers.

He loved her deeply. Like family. Like the mother he had lost too soon.

“Of course I’m here,” Thorn snorted, though her eyes were soft with affection. “Everyone’s been wondering where you wandered off to.”

Wolfram’s cheeks turned pink again. He lowered his gaze and scuffed his toes against the plush carpet.

“I just needed… a moment,” he murmured, almost apologetically.

Thorn’s eyes swept over the room before she crossed the distance between them. Her hand came to rest gently on his head, fingers threading through his golden curls-the same curls that had once been dull and dusty, now bright like sunlit straw.

“That’s perfectly fair,” she said softly, her voice a balm. “Today’s a big day.”

Wolfram looked up at her, eyes shimmering with the weight of everything unspoken. And Thorn smiled, that knowing, wistful smile that only someone who had watched you grow could wear.

“My little Omega,” she whispered fondly. “All grown up… and getting married. Feels like just yesterday you were chasing ants across the floor with that serious little face.”

Wolfram laughed, a genuine, breathless laugh that spilled from his chest like petals in the wind. His fingers clutched the bear a little tighter.

“I was very focused,” he said, grinning.

“And now look at you,” Thorn teased, tapping his nose with a fingertip. “Still focused. Just… on something a little bigger.”

Wolfram laughed, a soft breath of amusement slipping through his lips. “I didn’t follow the ants around.”

Thorn raised an unimpressed brow, hands settling on her hips with mock offense. “No, you just preferred beetles. And feeding every mouse and sparrow that crossed your path,” she sighed dramatically. “You were such a difficult child.”

The Omega hummed, a fond, far-off look settling into his eyes. He shook his head slowly. He remembered now-offering crumbs of stale bread to mice and birds, even rats when he could. Back behind the old inn, where he and Lucas used to sneak what little food they had. Sometimes he wandered just to share it with the tiny creatures. He wasn’t sure why he did it back then. Maybe he just couldn’t bear to see another living thing go hungry.

“I guess…” he started, voice lowering. “I guess I was just that kind of kid. I’m sorry. I probably wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for you and Lucas.” His voice trembled, quiet with sincerity. His cheeks, always prone to pink, glowed even brighter as he finished.

Thorn let out a sweet, chiming laugh and didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of his golden head. Her embrace felt like home-like safety, like years of silent protection and unspoken love.

Wolfram sometimes believed, deep down, that he would’ve vanished from the world if it weren’t for Thorn. Stolen away in those early years, forgotten, discarded… but Thorn hadn’t let that happen. She had clung to him, kept him close, long before either of them knew he carried royal blood in his veins. There must have been whispers, people watching from the shadows, waiting for Thorn to blink but she rarely did-and when he grew older, Lucas had arrived, always one step behind him like a protective shadow.

It still surprised Wolfram that no one had tried to buy him from his master. Or maybe they had, and the price had never been high enough. He had stayed at the inn regardless, his fate uncertain until destiny stirred.

“Who would've guessed I was raising a prince all along?” Thorn sighed, teasingly dramatic.

Wolfram smirked. “I wasn’t really a prince. Hahaue wasn’t queen for very long.”

Thorn pouted. “Once a prince, always a prince, Wolfe.”

He chuckled quietly, head tilting in that shy way he had when he tried not to get too emotional. How he loved her-so deeply, so gratefully. Just as much as he loved Lady Cecilie. He remembered the first time he had called Cecilie Hahaue. She’d burst into tears on the spot, crushing him in a hug so tight that Gwendal and Conrad had to pry her off when his face turned blue. To this day, her eyes still sparkled with tears whenever he called her that.

Then Thorn smirked again. Mischief danced in her gaze as she leaned in to press one more kiss to his forehead. Just before stepping back, she gave his brow a little flick.

Wolfram yelped, hands flying up to shield the spot with a grumpy pout.

“Well, it’s true,” she sang sweetly, eyes twinkling. “You’re not just a prince anymore. By tomorrow evening, you’ll be the new Queen of Shin Makoku.”

Wolfram groaned and puffed his cheeks. “We agreed the title would be ‘Royal Consort,’ not Queen,” he grumbled, cheeks turning crimson yet again.

“It’s just a title, Wolf! Queen suits you anyway!”

He could practically hear his husband-to-be’s voice echoing in his head. That annoying, teasing voice, always full of warmth and affection and nonsense.

Wolfram shook his head at the memory, lips twitching in reluctant amusement. He was not a Queen. He wasn’t a female Omega, and no matter how much progress had been made, there was no way in any realm he’d let that wimpy fiancé of his give him such a girlish title. Even if, technically, it didn’t mean anything.

“Aw,” Thorn whined, sticking out her bottom lip dramatically. “I really thought Heika would’ve convinced you. Queen Wolfe is adorable!”

Wolfram snorted, crossing his arms with dramatic defiance. “I’m not cute.”

Thorn laughed again, this time with a mischievous glint in her eye. She reached out and pinched his nose, earning a startled squeak from him.

“You’ll always be cute, Wolfe. No matter how tall you grow or how serious you act. You’ll always be my little tod who cried when the rain drowned your sunflower.”

He gasped softly, eyes widening. “Hey! That sunflower was important! It was the first thing Lucas taught me to grow-it was my responsibility.” His voice dipped into a quiet fondness, and his gaze wandered over to the bedside table.

Thorn followed his line of sight and her smile softened.

There, standing proudly in a vase, was a small bouquet of sunflowers, their golden heads turned toward the light. A thick black ribbon bound them together. They looked so much like the ones Lady Cecilie had started to grow in her personal gardens. It was Lucas who first mentioned the sunflower-how Wolfram had once clung to its fragile stalk like it was something sacred.

Wolfram had once been taken to a field of sunflowers on Earth. One of their early dates. It had been warm and windy and golden all around him. That memory-like sunlight-never failed to melt the ice around his heart.

“Other than Yuuri’s navy banners and all those Beautiful Wolframs scattered like petals, the castle’s practically blooming with sunflowers,” Thorn murmured, her gaze softening as it settled on the vase near the bedside.

Wolfram’s smile curled gently. “Yuuri always takes me to our sunflower field every…” he trailed off, eyes flicking upward in thought, “our anniversary-that’s what it’s called.”

A fondness sparked in his voice. “I love Hahaue’s flowers, but…sunflowers-they became ours. Mine and Yuuri’s.”

Thorn's expression turned wistful, her smile as warm as midsummer. She reached up and brushed her knuckles gently against Wolfram’s cheek. “You’ve grown up so fast. It’s making me feel ancient.”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Wolfram replied, though his voice came quieter. Because it had been long. It felt like a lifetime since the dusty inn, the cracked bowls of porridge, and sunburned days watching ants crawl across the floorboards.

He drew in a sharp breath, arms curling more tightly around the soft black bear in his grasp. Saying it out loud made it real-too real. The weight of today came crashing in all over again.

His wedding.

He was getting married. And after that… his breath caught.

A shiver crept up his spine, nerves tightening like a ribbon around his chest. He’d had the talk-no, five talks, each worse than the last. Lady Cecilie had taken it upon herself to deliver a very thorough (and mortifying) explanation of all that marital bliss entailed. Miko’s version had been modest, tactful. Gwendal’s was… horrifying. There was no other word. Conrad, on the other hand, had tried to make it less awkward-though that went sideways the moment Yozak joined in. That talk had ended with laughter, but also complete disbelief.

And still, Wolfram wasn’t sure he fully understood what awaited him once the vows were spoken. Would Yuuri know more than he did? Had he gotten any lectures? Were they just as terrifying?

His stomach fluttered uneasily.

“You look beautiful,” Thorn said softly, a small smile breaking through his spiraling thoughts. “That gown suits you perfectly.”

Wolfram glanced down at himself, heart jumping. He gently tugged at the snowy fabric wrapping around his body, fingers tracing the fine, weightless material as if seeking comfort in the touch.

“You think so?” he murmured shyly. “Yuuri brought it from Japan… said it’s traditional to wear for weddings there.” His voice dipped lower, as though sharing a secret. “We’re trying to blend both our traditions… so we chose to wear these during the festival.”

Thorn tilted her head, eyes trailing over him with a soft hum of appreciation.

“You look adorable and stunning. You’ll be the first person to wear something like that in Shin Makoku,” she said, her voice laced with pride. “It’s truly breathtaking.”

Wolfram’s cheeks deepened to rose, and he dropped his gaze to the floor, then back to the layers surrounding him. The gown-or rather, kimono, if he remembered the name correctly-fell all the way to his toes in elegant folds of white. Only a single layer of red peeked beneath the final snowy veil. No gold, no silver, no embroidery. Just white and that whisper of red, and somehow, it felt like the most regal thing he’d ever worn.

He remembered Miko explaining all the different kinds of kimonos-there were so many it made his head spin-but when Yuuri looked at him with those soft, pleading eyes, he couldn’t say no. And truthfully, deep down, he didn’t want to. The moment he touched it, a quiet yearning bloomed inside him.

It was beautiful.

“I… I really want to see Yuuri’s,” he whispered, barely above a breath.

He hadn’t yet. Miko had said it wouldn’t be exactly a kimono, but something that matched-his half of the tradition. Black, of course. Wolfram didn’t even need to ask. Black, like the royal colours of the Maou. Black, like Yuuri’s hair and eyes.

He remembered being stunned on Earth, surrounded by people with black hair, and realizing it wasn’t a symbol of royalty there-it was just normal. The thought still made him feel oddly out of place.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Thorn sighed; her voice dreamy with affection. She pressed a hand to her flushed cheek, her smile stretching wide as she giggled to herself.

Wolfram’s heart squeezed. He did. He truly, deeply did.

Wolfram’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“I do,” he murmured, his voice soft and fragile, as if the truth of it might float away if spoken too loudly. “I love him… a lot.” A faint, almost bashful smile tugged at his lips. “It’s wild, honestly. I didn’t even want to at first. I tried to push him away the moment I realized he was my fated mate.”

His hands tightened around the plush bear in his lap, clutching it like a shield. “I mean… I was just a slave,” he whispered, almost to himself. “And he… Yuuri is the Alpha King. The Maou, the most powerful man in the kingdom. I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

A breath trembled out of him. “Why would someone like him want someone like me?” Wolfram’s voice grew smaller as he lowered his face into the bear’s soft fur again, hiding the burning in his cheeks, the tremble in his lip.

Thorn watched him with quiet tenderness, about to speak-but the door creaked open just as she drew breath.

“Wolfram,” came a voice-steady, warm, and unmistakably familiar.

Wolfram’s head snapped up, his eyes instantly lighting up with recognition. His whole face transformed, blooming into a radiant smile.

“Connie,” he breathed, a soft hum in his voice, as though the name itself brought peace.

Conrad stepped fully into the room, pausing for a beat as he took in the sight of his younger brother. His brows drew together slightly-then softened into a fond, knowing smile. He tilted his head and approached with that signature calm grace of his.

Opening his arms without hesitation, he chuckled lightly, “So this is where you disappeared to.”

Wolfram leaned into the embrace, grateful for the solid warmth, the quiet strength.

“I’m just… overwhelmed, that’s all,” he admitted, tilting his head back to look at his brother.

“We were just having a little heart-to-heart,” Thorn added with a gentle smile, her eyes twinkling.

Conrad nodded, his voice low and soothing. “It’s perfectly alright to feel that way. This is a huge day-one of the most important in your life. But remember this, Wolfram: none of us expect you to face it alone. We’re all here for you. I’m here for you.”

Wolfram blinked, his expression suddenly still. A silence settled between them, thick and uncertain. Then, after a heartbeat, he bit his bottom lip, hesitating before whispering, “What if it doesn’t work? What if… Yuuri and I… we don’t last? I’m still just an Omega. And yeah, the laws have changed, but people…”

Conrad’s gaze didn’t waver. He reached out and rested a strong, reassuring hand on Wolfram’s golden head.

“It’s okay to have doubts,” he said gently. “But I want you to remember something. Yuuri didn’t just choose you-he fought for you. Tooth and nail. In front of nobles, in courtrooms, against centuries of tradition. He didn’t stop, he never hesitated because he loves you that much.”

Wolfram let out a long, shaky sigh, and looked down once more at the bear clutched in his arms. The memory of Yuuri’s relentless efforts wrapped around his heart like a warm blanket. The way he challenged every cold stare, every cruel remark… for him. For them.

Omegas had been discarded, ridiculed, treated like burdens. But Yuuri had changed that. He made the world stop and look. He made them listen. And now, the nobles-the same ones who once would have turned their backs-were celebrating the union of their Alpha King and a once-forgotten Omega.

“There will always be those who disagree,” Conrad added with quiet conviction. “But their words don’t define you. You don’t owe them your joy. All you need to do is hold onto love-and move forward. Trust Yuuri. Let him love you the way he always has.”

A smile slowly curved Wolfram’s lips. He chuckled under his breath and glanced up again. “You know… Yuuri would be thrilled to hear you calling him by his name and not his title.”

Conrad gave a soft laugh of his own. “Ah, yes. I imagine he would be.”

Wolfram shook his head fondly. “Not that it’ll last. As soon as we step outside this room, he’ll go right back to Heika. He always does. No matter how many times Yuuri asks him not to. Even with Yuuri about to become his brother-in-law.”

He paused, his smile turning impish. “Though… I don’t think that will ever top Shouri’s brother complex. That man’s only gotten worse since finding out about the wedding.”

And with that, the tension began to lift-just a little. Not gone, but lighter. Like a breeze before the storm, warm and stirring, full of promise.

“Wolf-chan, you’ve got to call me Oneesan now!”

Wolfram still couldn’t do it. No matter how often Shouri asked-practically demanded-he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Yuuri insisted there was no pressure, that it was all in good fun, but Shouri never let it go. Every time they crossed paths, the request came again, as embarrassing as the last.

Wolfram didn’t even call his own brothers by titles of affection. The whole thing felt awkward-unnatural on his tongue. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder… how would Shouri react now, knowing that his precious little brother was about to get married?

His eyes suddenly widened. “Connie!” he gasped, clutching the stuffed bear tighter to his chest. “I’m getting married!”

Conrad blinked at the outburst, then chuckled warmly. “That you are, Wolfram.”

“But I’m getting married, married!” Wolfram insisted, his face flushed with heat. “Me!”

Of course he knew that. He’d known for a long time. Ever since that ridiculous, clumsy moment when Yuuri slapped him-well, technically the second slap. The first time had happened ages ago, just after they returned from Earth. They’d slipped from a puddle, and in a flurry of confusion and chaos, Yuuri had accidentally struck him across the face. Poor Wolfram had burst into tears, not from the pain, but from sheer confusion. Why would someone who claimed to like him… hit him?

Conrad had gently explained to him back then that in their customs, a slap was a formal engagement proposal-especially between Alphas and Omegas. But at the time, it hadn’t quite registered. It just felt like rejection wrapped in a sting.

What a mess it had been.

And yet, somehow, the engagement had remained. It hadn’t been dissolved, even when everyone expected it to be. Especially when so many nobles began scheming, sending proposals to Gwendal in secret, trying to erase Wolfram from Yuuri’s side. Wolfram hadn’t understood it then, but now that he was older, he saw it clearly.

He had been an Omega in the presence of the Alpha Moah. And to many of them, that alone had been unacceptable.

Had Yuuri known about those proposals back then, Wolfram was certain he would’ve done something… decidedly un-royal. The kind of thing that would have turned courtly whispers into scandal.

Another reason the engagement had stuck was, ironically, how many people kept trying to slap Yuuri. At balls, at ceremonies, even during diplomatic visits-people tried to “propose” to the Maou like he was some prize to claim. But after their engagement was announced, the slapping stopped. Mostly.

Then came the second proposal. The real one.

It happened in front of everyone-nobles, kings, queens, and a sea of curious onlookers. Yuuri had turned to him with purpose, and with all the weight of his title and love, slapped him once more. This time not by accident, but as a vow. A declaration and later, alone in their chambers, Wolfram had returned the gesture-shy and trembling, but with all the love in his heart.

He would never forget the way Yuuri had smiled after that. Not his usual warm grin. Not the teasing smirk he wore around others. But that smile. One Wolfram had only ever seen once, and never again.

It was… beautiful.

It happened on the very same night the final noble signed the new Omega rights decree. The kingdom had celebrated with a grand ball unlike any before, where every Omega had been invited-welcomed, seen. That night, in front of the world, the Alpha King had claimed his destined mate.

Wolfram.

“I’m getting married,” he repeated, dazedly.

Conrad wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a soft, steady hug. “Only just sinking in now?”

Wolfram let out a deep whine, muffled against Conrad’s chest. “I knew it… I did… but it’s really happening. I’m marrying Yuuri. My Alpha.” He bit his lip, voice trembling. “It just… it finally feels real.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” he groaned, hiding his burning cheeks.

Conrad chuckled, fond and gentle, patting the back of Wolfram’s head. “It’s perfectly normal to feel this way.”

Thorn giggled sweetly, her eyes warm. “I’m sure Heika’s just as nervous, Wolfe.”

Wolfram glanced sideways at Thorn, doubt clouding his emerald eyes. “You really think so? Yuuri’s been… so calm lately. I’m not even sure he’s nervous at all.”

Conrad smiled gently, his gaze thoughtful. “Yuuri wasn’t always like that, you know. He used to be jittery-so unsure of himself. He’s just gotten better at hiding it over the years. But trust me, Wolfram… he’s probably just as nervous as you are right now. Maybe even more.”

Wolfram blinked, turning the idea over in his head. “You think beneath all that calm… Yuuri’s shaking too?” he murmured, his voice soft with wonder.

Conrad nodded with quiet certainty, and there was something in his expression-something knowing and a little fond-that made Wolfram believe him. He wondered if Yuuri had confided in Conrad recently. The thought sparked a strange flutter in his chest-not jealousy, exactly, but something close. If it were another life, maybe he would have been envious of how close they were but not this one.

He knew how much Conrad loved Yozak. That bond ran deep-old as the snow they’d first shared it on. And he understood now, as Yuuri had grown more confident, he leaned less on Conrad and more on him. Wolfram. The one who now held Yuuri’s fears and hopes in his own hands.

Still… he sometimes caught himself wondering if Yuuri had ever been jealous, watching Wolfram turn to Conrad for comfort but Yuuri would’ve reminded himself too-Conrad belonged to Yozak, heart and soul. Everyone had known it once they returned from Earth the first time, even if the relationship hadn’t been public until then. Wolfram had always wondered why they hadn’t married yet. He knew Yozak had slapped Conrad once, which in their culture meant a proposal… but nothing had come of it.

Maybe something would, after his wedding.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

“He’s nervous,” Conrad said softly, “Nut he’s excited, too.”

That made Wolfram’s heart stutter. A small, bashful smile curled on his lips, and he felt something warm bloom in his chest. He was excited too-trembling with it, really-but the nerves had stolen so much of the joy. For just a moment, the warmth melted through.

Then a loud chime echoed through the castle, deep and resonant, like the toll of fate itself.

Wolfram’s body jolted. His heart leapt into his throat, fingers twitching with startled panic. It was time.

Thorn placed a steadying hand on his arm, her voice soft with reassurance. “It’s alright, Wolfe. You’ve got this.”

He swallowed thickly, throat dry, and managed a shaky nod. His breath hitched as he tried to steady it.

“It’ll be fine,” Conrad said, his tone light, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But unfortunately… the bear can’t come with you.”

Wolfram flushed, glancing down at the well-loved stuffed bear in his hands. Despite everything, his smile became real-unforced, gentle. He looked at the toy for a long moment, then inhaled deeply, and with a kind of reverence, placed it back on its resting place.

He turned to Conrad and Thorn once more. His nod this time was firmer. Braver.

It’s time.

It took barely ten minutes for the trio to make their way to the courtyard. But each step seemed to echo louder than the last. As they exited the castle into the sun-drenched yard, Wolfram had to squint against the sudden brightness. His breath caught at the sight that awaited him-so many people, lined up, watching.

They were only the castle staff, the guards, the maids-people he’d come to know and love-but even that was enough to make his spine tingle with nerves. And tomorrow… tomorrow there would be so many more.

“Oh, my baby!” a high-pitched voice squealed from the crowd.

Wolfram didn’t even have time to react before he was pulled into a tight, sweeping hug that practically knocked the breath out of him.

He grunted softly, blinking in surprise, before his arms moved on instinct and wrapped around the woman clutching him. His heart squeezed tight in his chest.

“Hahaue,” he whispered, the word barely a breath.

It had been Thorn and Lucas who raised him, and they meant the world to him. But this woman… this was his mother. His beautiful, exasperating, overly dramatic mother.

Lady Cecilie burst into soft, happy sobs the moment the word left his lips. She pulled back just enough to cup his face, brushing her thumbs over his flushed cheeks.

“My, my-you’re so beautiful, my Honey-chan!” she gushed. “My little Omega! Who would’ve thought! You’re getting married! And to our Heika, no less! I just know he won’t be able to keep his hands off you!”

Wolfram choked on his own breath, turning as red as a rose in full bloom. “H-Hahaue!”

“Mother…” Conrad sighed, though there was no real scolding in his voice.

Lady Cecilie just shushed him with a dramatic wave, then leaned in and kissed Wolfram on the forehead, her eyes sparkling with emotion.

“I’m just so proud I get to see this day,” she whispered. “My sweet little Honey-chan.”

Wolfram's throat tightened, and his heart swelled so big it felt like it might burst.

This was real. It was all real. He was getting married… to Yuuri.

And somehow, everything felt just a little less frightening.

With a last squeeze and a sniffle, Lady Cecilie finally released him. Wolfram blinked, adjusting to the sudden space as her warmth left him. He turned his head slightly, watching as she fluttered away like a dramatic butterfly, dabbing delicately at her eyes with a lace-trimmed handkerchief. She sniffled again, then leaned into Gwendal’s side. The eldest brother turned his face away with a practiced scowl-yet the faint pink flush dusting his cheeks and the glint of pride in his eyes betrayed him.

“Heika has very good taste,” Lady Cecilie declared proudly, her gaze roaming over Wolfram’s form with an approving hum. She’d seen him in the ceremonial kimono before, of course-but Cecilie never passed up a chance to say something, especially when it involved admiration and sparkles.

Wolfram flushed, fiercely.

He looked down at his feet, willing the earth to swallow him whole. No matter how many years he’d worn royal titles or sat beside the Maoh at court, the spotlight still burned. And today… oh, today it was blinding. And tomorrow, when he would become the royal consort? He wasn't sure he’d survive the attention.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Gunter’s dramatic wailing echo like a tragic opera through the courtyard. He wasn’t sure why Gunter was crying now, or why he wasn’t attached to Gwendal’s arm like he’d been lately. They had recently mated, after all… wasn’t this exactly the sort of romantic moment Gunter would glue himself to?

“Wolfram?” Thorn’s voice floated to him gently, and he turned to find her gesturing forward with a soft smile. It was time to walk.

He sighed-deep and quiet-and let his gaze flick across the gathered crowd. Of course, Lucas was already charming poor Gisela, his bright laughter dancing through the courtyard. It was only a matter of time before he bounced over to tease Anissina too.

Wolfram’s cheeks flared again, and he gave a slightly too-eager nod. His head jerked so quickly it made his neck twinge. Then, with a breath that did absolutely nothing to steady him, he stepped forward.

Too fast.

His steps tangled in the long, snowy fabric of his kimono, and his balance tipped. His heart lurched as he stumbled forward, eyes widening in horror as the ground rushed up to meet him.

No-no, not like this-not in front of everyone-

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact but instead of cold stone and sharper shame, warm, steady arms caught him.

A firm hand curled around his waist. Another supported his back. His palms landed flat against broad, strong shoulders, and his breath caught-frozen mid-panic.

Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes and met midnight.

Yuuri’s dark eyes stared back into his with quiet intensity, gleaming like stars barely held in check. He was smiling-truly smiling-soft and warm and entirely focused on Wolfram. His hold was protective, unshakable, grounding.

Wolfram straightened in his grasp, every inch of him trembling with nerves and something far sweeter. His face burned so fiercely it felt like his whole body had caught fire.

Around them, a chorus of delighted coos erupted. Lady Cecilie gasped theatrically; her hands clutched to her chest. Maids whispered excitedly, and even a few guards turned bashfully away.

Wolfram flinched, instinctively stepping back from Yuuri’s arms, his gaze dropping like a stone. Yuuri’s eyes never left him.

“Shibuya,” a voice interrupted, dry and amused.

Yuuri blinked, slowly turning his head to the source. Murata stood there with a fond smile, one brow raised expectantly.

“Really, Ken?” Yuuri sighed, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “After everything, can’t we at least use first names?”

Murata snorted. “If you insist, Yuuri.” His tone was teasing as ever, though his eyes sparkled with quiet affection.

When Yuuri remained still, Murata coughed and nodded toward Wolfram with a slight tilt of his head.

Realization dawned, fast and bright. Yuuri’s eyes widened comically before colour bloomed across his cheeks. He turned quickly, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips as he reached for something Murata held out-a folded square of ceremonial white cloth.

Wolfram held his breath as Yuuri stepped close again.

With gentle fingers, Yuuri lifted the fabric-something like a veil, but simpler, more symbolic-and placed it carefully atop Wolfram’s golden hair. It draped down like a soft hood, framing his face and shielding him from all but the clearest view. Four delicate silver birds had been embroidered on one side, each one catching the light as they moved.

Yuuri’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and this time the warmth radiated from his entire being.

Wolfram’s heart fluttered helplessly.

Only now did he take in what Yuuri was wearing-black as the night sky, with accents of silver and storm-cloud grey, their outfits harmonizing in quiet elegance. They were two halves of the same whole, bound by colour, by tradition, and by something deeper.

He swallowed hard. Yuuri was… so handsome.

“Wolfram,” Murata said gently, drawing him back to earth, “you’ll need to hold onto this until the middle of the festival.” He handed over a small, symbolic charm wrapped in blue cloth.

Wolfram took it with a nod, his fingers trembling just slightly as they brushed Yuuri’s by accident.

And then, quietly, he whispered to himself, so softly no one else could hear:

I’m really going to marry him.

“Honey-chan!” a bright, familiar voice called out.

Wolfram turned just in time to see Greta skipping toward him, her smile radiant, her energy like sunshine. The young princess was blossoming more with each passing day. Her once short, bouncy curls had grown into soft waves brushing her shoulders, and the wide-eyed innocence in her gaze was beginning to narrow with graceful maturity. She was growing up-but thankfully, not too fast.

“You look so beautiful, Wolfram!” she beamed, eyes sparkling.

A shy, shaky smile formed on Wolfram’s lips. “S-So do you, Greta,” he replied, his voice catching slightly on the words. His nerves were wound so tightly that even her sweet compliment threatened to unravel him.

Greta giggled, the bells on her dress chiming with her movement. Her white ballerina-like gown shimmered in the afternoon light, ribbons woven through her hair like woven clouds. In her arms, she cradled a large bouquet, which she now held out with both hands, offering it to Wolfram with pride glowing on her cheeks.

His gaze fell to the bouquet, and for a moment, he could only stare.

Beautiful Wolframs and Yuuri’s signature Navies bloomed side by side, entwined in a lush tangle of colour and scent. Every flower was wrapped in flowing white ribbons, each one tied with delicate care. Wolfram hesitated-then with trembling hands, he accepted the bouquet, holding it like it might shatter in his arms.

They smelled like spring, like the field they always returned to.

Greta practically bounced on her toes, overjoyed. Her whole face shone with uncontainable happiness, the kind only a child who truly believes in love could wear. She adored Wolfram with all her heart-always had-and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was ecstatic to see her Papa marrying him instead of any of the simpering nobles who’d once tried to cling to Yuuri’s coattails.

She gave a happy little curtsy, then backed away with quiet grace to stand beside Murata.

“Wolfram.”

Yuuri’s voice wrapped around him like silk, bringing him back to the present.

Wolfram turned, heart thudding. Yuuri stood by the open carriage door, one hand braced on the frame, the other extended toward him. He looked… breathtaking. Elegant and calm, yet so undeniably Yuuri-all soft smiles and kindness that reached right down into your soul. His dark eyes shimmered like midnight pools, drawing Wolfram in without effort.

Wordlessly, Wolfram reached out and placed his hand in Yuuri’s.

Yuuri helped him up into the carriage with care, his grip steady and sure. The moment the door closed behind them with a gentle click, Wolfram finally released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. The hush inside the carriage was a blessing. No crowd. No noise. Just the creak of wheels, the soft jingle of bridles, and the two of them alone.

As the carriage began to move, Wolfram tensed instinctively. His fingers clenched the bouquet tighter. He could hear the horses, feel every slight sway-and his heart was still racing. If this was how nervous he felt now, how in the world was he going to survive the actual ceremony tomorrow?

“I-I didn’t see Mama or Papa…” he murmured after a moment. As soon as he spoke, anxiety twisted in his gut-was he even supposed to talk? Was that breaking a rule?

Yuuri simply leaned back against the plush cushions, his smile never wavering. “They were meant to arrive this morning, but Dad got called into work. Mum didn’t want to come without him, so they’ll be arriving later tonight.”

“Oh…” Wolfram looked down, slightly crestfallen. “That’s a shame. Miko really wanted to see the festival…”

She’d spoken about it so often. So many quiet conversations, warm cups of tea, the gentle sparkle in her eyes whenever she brought it up. He couldn’t help the pang of guilt that settled in his chest. If he had known they’d be delayed, maybe they could’ve postponed the whole thing…

Yuuri’s smile softened. “It’s okay. Mum just really wanted to make sure you wore her Wataboshi.”

Wolfram tilted his head, puzzled. “Wataboshi?”

Yuuri leaned closer. His hands moved with reverent care as he gently adjusted the white hood draped over Wolfram’s golden hair. “The Wataboshi is one of the most important pieces of the Shiromuku kimono,” he explained softly. “It’s a symbol of purity and new beginnings. Mum kept hers all these years… and she wanted you to wear it.”

“Oh,” Wolfram whispered, fingers brushing the soft, snowy fabric. “So, this kimono… it’s called a Shiromuku?”

Yuuri nodded. “That’s right. Mum almost wanted you to choose the Hikifurisode, but when you picked this one, she cried.” His laugh was light, full of fondness. “She didn’t want to pressure you-but it meant the world to her. She wore this on her own wedding day.”

Wolfram’s lips parted; his breath caught somewhere in his chest.

“And yours?” he asked softly, glancing at Yuuri’s black attire. “What’s it called? I think… Monsuki?”

Yuuri grinned, clearly pleased by the question. “Montsuki Haori Hakama,” he corrected gently. “I wanted to be traditional too-like Dad. It felt right.”

Wolfram hadn’t even noticed that his hands were trembling again-until Yuuri’s hands gently covered his own.

“Hey,” Yuuri said, voice barely more than a whisper. “It’s alright. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Wolfram looked at him, really looked. The nerves still tangled in his chest, but they loosened-just a little-under the weight of Yuuri’s calm gaze.

“Are… are you nervous too?” he asked, remembering Conrad’s words.

Yuuri paused, then gave a sheepish smile and nodded, just once.

“Terrified,” he admitted. “But I’ve never been happier to be scared.”

Wolfram stared at Yuuri for a moment, eyes wide, as though seeing him in a new light. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a gentle smile. Conrad had told him Yuuri was nervous too-but hearing it from Yuuri himself made something inside Wolfram melt. Like all his worries, so sharp and overwhelming just seconds ago, had suddenly softened into something far easier to carry.

“I’m really excited too,” he whispered, “It’s just… scary sometimes.”

Yuuri gave a small, serious nod. “I’ll protect you,” he promised, voice low but steady. “Always.” His fingers tightened around Wolfram’s, grounding him with that warmth.

Wolfram let out a breathy laugh, light and unguarded, before leaning into Yuuri’s shoulder and giggling softly against the fabric of his robes. The closeness made Yuuri’s heart stutter, his own smile breaking free as he pressed a kiss to the side of Wolfram’s covered head. The soft fabric of the Wataboshi brushed his lips.

It felt surreal. They had been kept apart for almost a full week-something about old traditions, purity, anticipation. And now, finally here, it was like the moment was trying to catch up all at once.

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Wolfram murmured. “It feels… unreal. Just last year, the nobles were ready to riot over us.”

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, his dark eyes filled with memory and fire. He lifted Wolfram’s hand and kissed the back of it-a slow, tender press of lips. Then, without letting go, he intertwined their fingers tightly.

“Like I’d ever let them stop us,” he said with a quiet snort, a flash of defiance dancing across his usually calm expression.

Wolfram bit back a grin, warmth blooming in his chest. Yuuri had changed so much. He was still sweet, still idealistic, still capable of being adorably clueless-but the days of him being the “wimpy king” were long gone. He’d fought with words, with laws, with unshakeable conviction. Fought for Omegas. For equality. For him.

But Wolfram wouldn’t be Wolfram without poking the bear just a little.

“I don’t know…” he said, eyes teasing, “You’re still pretty wimpy.”

Yuuri gasped, feigning deep offense. “What? Still calling me that, even on our wedding day?”

“Oh, Yuuri. I’ll always call you that,” Wolfram laughed, leaning his head against Yuuri’s shoulder once more. “You’re my wimp.”

Yuuri paused for half a heartbeat, then nodded solemnly. “That’s right. I’m your wimp.” And with that, he burst into laughter too, their joy echoing softly within the carriage.

Wolfram sighed contentedly, his entire body relaxing. Being near Yuuri always felt like stepping out of the storm and into the sun. His nerves were still there, fluttering deep inside-but they didn’t weigh him down anymore. Not with Yuuri here.

“I’m sorry,” Wolfram said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

Yuuri blinked and leaned back a little, brow arching. “Sorry? For what?” he asked, amused. “Did you do something I should know about?” There was a spark of teasing in his tone, playful and light.

Wolfram laughed under his breath. No, not really. Well… maybe a little. Back when his maryoku had first been unsealed, things had been… rough. Unstable, there had been meltdowns. Tears. A few accidental fireballs-one or two thrown directly at Yuuri. It was something Wolfram deeply regretted, though Yuuri had never once held it against him.

After all, Yuuri had gone through the same thing-his magic vast and constantly growing, sometimes overwhelming him with emotion and power. They understood each other in ways few others could. Their souls had already chosen one another. Their magic, too. Now, it was only the final bond that remained.

“No,” Wolfram said finally with a smile. “Nothing worth worrying about. At least, I don’t think so.”

Yuuri grinned, cupping his hand over Wolfram’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then stop worrying, my Omega,” he said playfully-and leaned forward to press a quick, mischievous kiss to the tip of Wolfram’s nose.

Wolfram blinked, momentarily stunned by the boldness. His cheeks flared red, but his heart swelled all the same.

“I love you, Yuuri,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of truth.

Yuuri looked at him, eyes alight, and smiled the kind of smile that made promises without needing words.

“I love you too, Wolfram,” he said.

The sound of the crowd’s cheers swelled in the air, flooding Wolfram’s senses. He turned toward the carriage window, a chill running down his spine as he saw the townspeople gathered along the streets, their faces filled with enthusiasm. His lips twitched, unable to hold back a small, awed smile.

Around them, ethereal creatures crafted from the elements of water, fire, and earth danced through the air. They floated beside the soldiers marching in line, all of them holding high the flags of the kingdom-black, green, and white-colours of pride and celebration. Their presence was regal and proud, a true spectacle for the eyes.

A paper-like figure, graceful and delicate, fluttered past the window, its form made of soft pink petals. It waved at him as it passed, swirling with an airy dance. Wolfram’s eyes widened, captivated by its beauty. More creatures followed masks of dragons, ethereal flags made of paper, their vibrant colours shimmering in the sunlight. Most of them bore the colours of the wedding.

Wolfram blinked, entranced. These paper creations could only come from the world of Earth-an art form so ravishing and divine, it took his breath away.

The people of Shin Makoku were ecstatic, cheering and waving. Their eyes gleamed with affection and joy. Wolfram’s gaze shifted to Yuuri, who was leaning out the window, waving to the crowd with a broad, infectious smile. The sight felt strangely familiar, like a scene from a dream he could almost remember. He shook his head, dismissing the feeling, and turned back to the jubilant crowd. After a moment, he mirrored Yuuri’s gesture, lifting his hand to wave, and the response from the people was immediate-a roar of delight, their spirits soaring.

Suddenly, Wolfram’s attention snapped back to Yuuri when he heard a sharp intake of breath. His eyes widened in alarm as he saw Yuuri tipping dangerously toward the window, as if he might tumble out. Without thinking, Wolfram lunged forward, catching him just in time.

“Y-Yuuri!” Wolfram gasped, his heart pounding in his chest.

Yuuri blinked up at him, eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, the laughter from the crowd trickled in, their amused voices filling the air. It was clear they found Yuuri’s antics endearing, and despite himself, Yuuri gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Um... Sorry, Wolfram,” he chuckled, his voice laced with a hint of guilt.

Wolfram blinked twice, still trying to process the moment. His gaze shifted upward; his eyes caught by a familiar view between two buildings. Suddenly, everything clicked in his mind, and a laugh-light, warm, and unrestrained-slipped from his lips. The laughter bubbled up, unexpected but impossible to suppress, growing in intensity as he couldn’t stop himself from giggling.

Yuuri pouted, his cheeks puffing in playful frustration. “It wasn’t that funny,” he huffed, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, unable to resist.

“N-No,” Wolfram gasped between laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not that. I-” He paused, his laughter fading into a bright, fond smile as he looked out the window. “It just... reminded me of my first Sun-Kissed Parade.”

“Your first one?” Yuuri repeated, curious, tilting his head slightly.

Wolfram’s voice softened, tinged with nostalgia. “It was back when I was at the Inn,” he began, pausing to choose his words carefully. He glanced at Yuuri, his expression a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability. “I ran to see the parade. I’d never seen one before, so I was so excited.”

Wolfram’s heart fluttered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “And it was the first time I saw you. I felt our red string of fate then. I knew you were my Alpha.”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, a flash of recognition lighting his face. “And I was so entranced by your eyes, I almost fell out of the moving carriage,” he said, his voice dropping into fond amusement. “I knew it! I knew you were there! I felt you too, even though Conrad and Greta didn’t believe me-they thought I was just being clumsy!”

Wolfram giggled behind the flowers in his hands, the memory filling him with warmth. “I got scared,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing as he smiled shyly. “Imagine being someone like me, and realizing my mate was the Alpha Moah everyone was always talking about. I ran away, hoping you wouldn’t find me... but I guess that didn’t work out.”

“I never would’ve stopped looking for you,” Yuuri said earnestly, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I was desperate to find you. I thought you were hiding from me... and then, when I found out you were being hurt…”

He trailed off, his words filled with pain and regret. “I hate myself for it. I wish I could’ve found you sooner. I should have been there to protect you.”

Wolfram’s heart clenched in his chest as he met Yuuri’s gaze, his emerald eyes wide and glistening with unspoken emotion. He hadn’t realized how deeply Yuuri had carried that burden with him. Since being rescued from the Inn, Wolfram had healed in more ways than he could count. There were still nights when nightmares clung to him, but they were less frequent now. He’d never blamed Yuuri for the pain he’d endured-his Alpha had done everything he could since they had bonded. Wolfram had known, deep down, that Yuuri had always tried his best.

“It’s not your fault, Yuuri,” Wolfram said softly, his voice gentle as he inched closer to the Moah. He reached out and placed a hand on Yuuri’s arm, guiding him to meet his gaze. “You can’t blame yourself for that. We didn’t even know each other back then.”

Yuuri’s expression clouded with guilt, his brow furrowing deeply. “But I’m the King. I should have known. If my Moah self could feel it, then I should have sensed it too. It’s my biggest regret... not finding you sooner.”

Wolfram’s heart tightened at the sight of Yuuri’s anguish. He couldn’t bear seeing him like this. With a quiet, steady motion, Wolfram lifted his hand to Yuuri’s cheek, coaxing the solemn Alpha to meet his eyes. The Omega’s emerald gaze was unwavering as he offered the softest, most reassuring smile he could muster.

“You couldn’t have known,” Wolfram said, his voice laced with warmth and compassion. “No one could have. The one to blame is her. She took me... sold me. But you saved me, Yuuri. You brought me into a world that’s brighter than anything I ever dreamed of. You’ve done more than enough for me.” He paused, the words catching in his throat, as he continued, “Please, stop blaming yourself. The past... it’s gone. What matters now is our future.”

Yuuri was silent for a long moment, his gaze locked with Wolfram’s. Neither of them moved. The air between them seemed to hum with unspoken emotions.

“Our future,” Yuuri whispered at last, his voice soft, almost reverent. He took a slow breath, his hand reaching out to gently touch Wolfram’s. “I’m going to make you happy, Wolfram. I promise you; I’ll make you the happiest Omega in Shin Makoku. It won’t be easy, and it may not always be perfect, but I swear you’ll be happy.”

Wolfram’s lips curled into a tender smile; a small, sweet gesture filled with unwavering love. “We will be happy,” he said, his voice firm, yet full of affection. “I’ll make you happy too.”

Yuuri’s smile returned, brighter now, and Wolfram’s heart warmed with relief. His Alpha, the man who had once carried so much weight on his shoulders, now seemed lighter, more at peace-especially on a day like this. Their day.

Without thinking, Wolfram leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against Yuuri’s cheek.

“You know, I miss kissing you properly,” Yuuri sighed, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he looked at Wolfram with a mixture of longing and amusement.

Wolfram chuckled, a laugh filled with both affection and a hint of teasing. “Yuuri…”

“It’s true,” Yuuri insisted with a playful shrug. “I’m not a fan of this tradition. Not being able to kiss my bride until the parade? It’s... it kinda sucks.” He pouted slightly; his eyes gleaming with mock frustration.

Wolfram couldn’t help but smile, his gaze softening as he looked down at the flowers he held in his hands. He nodded silently in agreement. He, too, missed the simple joy of pressing his lips to Yuuri’s. It wasn’t just the kisses-he missed the closeness, the warmth of his Alpha’s touch. They hadn’t shared a true kiss in over a month. Not since that day when Gunter had dramatically interceded, warning that the tradition prohibited any form of bonding contact before the wedding. Wolfram had grown used to it, but it didn’t make it any easier.

“It has,” he finally murmured, his voice quiet, a small ache of longing in his chest.

Yuuri blinked, his expression lighting up with a mischievous grin. “I promise, tonight, I’ll kiss you a lot,” he said with a sparkle in his eyes. “To make up for lost time.”

Wolfram snorted, unable to suppress the grin tugging at his lips. “To make up for lost time, huh?”

“Precisely!” Yuuri grinned wider, clearly excited by the thought.

Wolfram’s heart fluttered in his chest, his smile growing tender as he sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. Who would have thought that someone like him-once a mute, discarded slave-would one day end up marrying the Moah of Shin Makoku? He remembered the rumours he’d heard about Yuuri in those early days. At first, he hadn’t believed them, thinking people exaggerated to glorify their King. But now, he saw the truth of it all. Yuuri was every bit the man the stories said-and more.

“I’m glad,” Wolfram whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so happy I got to meet you, Yuuri. This-this is everything I ever dreamed of, and more.”

Wolfram gathered all his courage, his heart pounding in his chest, and turned his gaze to Yuuri. He felt a swell of affection, a deep, aching love that overflowed in his chest.

“Thank you for saving me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his expression softening into something akin to awe. His gaze was intense, filled with a tenderness that made Wolfram’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar, but pleasant, way. He stared at him for a long, silent moment, and for a fleeting second, Wolfram wondered if he had said the wrong thing. But before either could speak further, the carriage jolted to a stop. The cheers and murmurs of the crowd outside suddenly fell silent, as if an invisible force had stilled them all.

A cold shiver ran down Wolfram’s spine. He had to go out there-face the gaze of hundreds of strangers. More eyes than he’d ever felt before. His stomach twisted in nervousness, and the fear of the crowd threatened to rise once more.

The carriage door swung open, the bright sunlight flooding in, and Wolfram flinched slightly. Yuuri stepped out first, his expression warm and reassuring. He held out his hand, his smile steady and gentle.

“Wolfram,” Yuuri said softly, his eyes filled with understanding, “You saved me too.”

Wolfram stared at him, his heart skipping a beat. The fear that had gripped him so tightly began to loosen, melting away in the warmth of Yuuri’s gaze. Without even realizing it, he reached for Yuuri’s hand. The moment their fingers touched, the anxiety in his chest seemed to dissipate. Yuuri pulled him out of the carriage with effortless strength, his hand steady and sure. As Wolfram’s feet met the ground, the sound of gasps and whispers swirled around him. The crowd’s excitement surged back to life, but this time, it didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

Wolfram looked up at Yuuri, and in that moment, he knew-whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Wolfram stood frozen; his breath caught in his chest as his eyes widened. The nervousness that had knotted in his stomach seemed to fade the moment he looked into Yuuri’s gaze. Without even realizing it, his hand reached out, trembling slightly, and clasped onto Yuuri’s. The warmth of Yuuri’s touch, firm and reassuring, eased the anxiety swirling within him. Yuuri, with effortless grace, helped him step down from the carriage. The moment Wolfram’s feet touched the warm earth, a hush seemed to fall over the crowd-followed by gasps and murmurs that filled the air like the soft fluttering of wings.

The sight before him was overwhelming. Everyone was glowing. Their faces were radiant with joy, smiles wide and bright as they watched him. His heart swelled at the sight. His mother, Hahaue, stood before him in a breathtaking dark red and black gown, her eyes twinkling with pride. His brothers, Gwendal and Conrad, stood tall and composed, exuding the quiet pride that always defined them. They wore fancier versions of their usual military uniforms-more lace, more buckles, and the glint of medals on their chests.

Gunter stood nearby; his usual exuberance tempered today with a calmness that suited the moment. Sweet Gisela stood beside him, her smile so wide it seemed to light up the entire square. Yozak, always a bit of a tease, wore a smirk that hinted at mischief and Anissina’s grin was the proudest of them all.

Seeing them like this, so radiant and full of joy, was almost too much for Wolfram to bear. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, a strange mixture of happiness and disbelief. He remembered the first time he had seen them all, when he had stepped out of a carriage much like this one and found them waiting for him. The memories came rushing back in a blur-how unfamiliar it had all seemed then, how lost he had felt in their warmth.

Greta, his sweet little sister, had been riding a magnificent white horse at the front of the procession, tossing flower petals into the air. Now, standing in front of them, her arms were full of petals, her smile impossibly bright. She caught his eye, her gaze sparkling with happiness as she eagerly stepped forward to join the others.

They must have all ridden in circles around the carriage, the air filled with laughter and music, with Lady Cecilie leading them ahead.

The centre of the kingdom, where the grand markets were usually held, was a sea of colour-covered in banners, ribbons, and flowers. Every corner seemed alive with celebration. Even the rooftops were adorned with creatures, little paper beings swirling on the breeze, their eyes bright as they watched the festivities unfold.

The people of the kingdom had gathered, their faces alight with anticipation. Ribbons of every colour were draped around their necks and wrists, their faces beaming with excitement. Wolfram couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety in his chest at the sight of so many eyes focused on him and Yuuri. But there was something comforting, too-something in the air that felt like home. Children were already picking at the sweet treats laid out on the tables, their laughter mingling with the hum of the crowd. For a brief moment, Wolfram would have found it amusing if he weren’t so nervous.

He was gently guided toward the wooden stand at the heart of the market, his legs feeling weak beneath him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for not stumbling this time. Standing in front of Yuuri, he felt a flutter in his chest, his heart racing faster than he could keep up. Yuuri smiled at him, and it was like the world around them disappeared for just a moment. The love in his gaze made Wolfram’s heart ache with tenderness.

Slowly, carefully, Yuuri placed his hands over Wolfram’s, their fingers curling together over the bouquet of flowers. For a fleeting moment, the weight of the bouquet felt almost too much to bear-but the warmth of their hands together steadied him.

“To commence this Sun-Kissed Parade with your union, I will bind your hands together,” Murata’s voice rang out, clear and full of joy, his tone echoing across the open square.

Wolfram’s breath caught in his throat as Murata took the white ribbons from the bouquet and wrapped them around both their wrists. The crowd fell into a hushed silence, hanging on every word as Murata continued, “Shinou, we ask for your blessing over this union. May your light guide and protect these two souls as they join together in love.”

As the words hung in the air, a warmth began to spread from where their hands were bound. Wolfram watched, captivated, as the white ribbons slowly darkened, shifting into a deep, rich black. The flower petals on the bouquet unfurled, glowing softly, a magical dance of light filling the air around them.

A grin spread across Murata’s face, one so wide and mischievous it would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

“Let the Parade commence!” he announced, his voice full of laughter.

He leaned in toward them, his eyes sparkling with a secret. “Now, this is where you throw the bouquet,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful whisper, a wink following his words.

Wolfram blinked, his heart fluttering in his chest. He looked down at the glowing flowers in his hands, then back up at Yuuri. The Alpha smiled, nodding with quiet encouragement, and together, they lifted their joined hands. The bouquet rose into the air, its ribbons still tied to their wrists.

As the bouquet reached its peak, it exploded with a burst of light! Petals rained down like confetti, drifting gracefully to the ground, their soft glow lighting up the square. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound swelling with joy as music rang out, signalling the start of the celebration, the parade had begun.

Wolfram stood in awe, the moment overwhelming him. He had never imagined that the next time he would witness a Sun-Kissed Parade, it would be on his wedding day.

~#~

Once again, the familiar rush of nervousness and fear crept over Wolfram, making his head spin. He hadn’t expected this. Yesterday had gone by without much trouble-well, except for the moments when he had hidden behind Gwendal or Conrad to escape the crowd. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. He’d danced with Yuuri, the rhythm of their movements a comforting constant in the sea of festivities. The ball had been more casual than the ones back at the castle-less formal, more relaxed. It was almost enjoyable.

Then came the children. The moment Wolfram had sat down, a swarm of eager little faces surrounded him. They showered him with flowers, their innocent kisses pressed to his cheeks. It was overwhelming and sweet. He smiled, even though the gesture felt foreign, as he tied tiny ribbons around their wrists, offering blessings as the new "Queen." He hadn’t been harassed or targeted for being an Omega, as he had half-expected. They were kind-perhaps some of the harshness had been removed before it could reach him.

He danced with Greta too, her laughter light and carefree as she chattered endlessly about the parade, the wedding, and how Wolfram would soon be her “mother.” The words caught in his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to correct her. He was a man, after all, but when Greta said it, it felt like something he didn’t want to take from her. He smiled, a soft, bittersweet smile, and tied another ribbon around her wrist when she asked for it.

The Sun-Kissed Parade had been beautiful, filled with colour and joy, the whole kingdom alive with celebration. It had been perfect. But today? Today felt different. The air was thick with anticipation, and the mood had shifted. There was an unspoken weight in the air-everyone’s demeanour more serious, less carefree. The playfulness was still there, but it was tinged with a quiet, palpable edge.

Last night, they had been separated again, the familiar ache of being apart tugging at Wolfram's heart. At least tonight, they would be together. Tonight, the union would be made official. But there was still the matter of Gisela’s examination tomorrow.

Wolfram shuddered as he thought back to Gunter’s mention of an old tradition. The very idea of people watching was enough to make him dizzy. He remembered fainting when Gunter had spoken of it. It had been a custom long since out of favour, thank goodness. Wolfram couldn’t imagine enduring that-his heart would have simply shattered. But when a noble had dared to bring it up, Yuuri had shut it down with that familiar, intense gaze of his-the Moah slit eyes that left no room for argument. Yuuri wasn’t about to put him through that, and Wolfram was grateful.

But the nerves still lingered, gnawing at his insides.

"Oh, Wolf-chan," Miko’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and sweet, "You’re so beautiful. I’m so happy it’s finally happening."

Wolfram turned away from the mirror to meet her gaze. Her large eyes, warm and filled with kindness, reminded him of Yuuri. It was clear now where the Alpha’s own round, expressive eyes had come from.

"I’m sorry you missed the Parade, Mama," Wolfram said, his voice quiet.

Miko chuckled, a gentle, melodic sound. "I’m a little sad, but we can always see the next one," she said, her hand resting tenderly on his cheek. "I would never miss today for anything."

Wolfram smiled, bowing his head slightly, a deep warmth blooming in his chest. "I’m glad you’re here."

He turned back to face the mirror, lifting his arms as Miko carefully tied the ribbon around his waist. The kimono was stunning-this one pure white, the fabric soft and pristine. It was a stark contrast to the one he had worn yesterday, the one with red accents. This one was simple, yet elegant in its quiet beauty.

"Is… is this called a Shiromuku kimono, too?" Wolfram asked, his voice a little uncertain as he studied himself in the mirror.

Miko hummed in acknowledgment, her voice filled with affection. "Did Yuu-chan teach you that?"

Wolfram’s cheeks flushed slightly. He nodded, bashful. "He said it’s traditional in Japan. He called it a Shiromuku kimono."

"That’s correct. It is traditional," Miko replied. "The Shiromuku is a wedding kimono originally worn in samurai families. Over time, it’s become one of the most common choices for brides in Japan."

Wolfram’s fingers gently brushed over the white fabric, his mind absorbing Miko’s words. "Why is it white?"

Miko smiled softly, her eyes distant for a moment as she shared the history. "White has symbolized the sun’s rays since ancient times. In the Heian period, brides began to wear pure white kimonos as a sign of purity, cleanliness, and virginity. The colour white is said to be sacred-it can be dyed with any colour, which is why the Shiromuku symbolizes that the bride is ready to be ‘dyed’ by the colour of her groom."

Wolfram blinked, his face heating at the thought of being "dyed" by Yuuri’s colour. The very idea made his stomach flutter-an odd mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Tonight. Tonight...

"Religious? Like in the temple?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Miko nodded, her tone softening. "Yes, the Shiromuku has always been regarded as sacred, and it’s often worn in ceremonies held in sacred or religious places. It symbolizes the sanctity of the union between the bride and groom."

Wolfram’s mind drifted, his heart racing with thoughts of the night to come. He couldn’t quite find the right words to express the rush of emotions overwhelming him. The thought of standing beside Yuuri, of this all becoming real, was both terrifying and exhilarating. The threads of tradition, of what was expected of him, wove through his mind, making his pulse quicken.

But, despite the nerves and the unease, he knew one thing for certain: this was where he belonged. And tonight, he would walk forward into that new world, hand in hand with Yuuri.

Miko worked gracefully behind Wolfram, her hands moving with practiced ease as she helped him into the kimono. It was a world away from the struggle he had endured yesterday with Lady Cecilie and a few maids-where they had wrestled and fumbled with the fabric until, in the end, Conrad had to step in. Wolfram never quite understood how Conrad had known exactly what to do, but he never asked. Miko, however, had no trouble at all, slipping the fabric into place with a gentle precision that amazed him.

Wolfram smiled softly, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "What about the Wataboshi?" His eyes flickered up, meeting Miko’s. She smiled warmly, her fingers brushing delicately over the edges of the hood before sliding it carefully over his head.

Stepping back, Miko's eyes glistened with a tenderness Wolfram hadn’t expected. She pressed her hand to her mouth, a small, almost inaudible gasp escaping her. Wolfram remembered what Yuuri had told him about the Wataboshi-it was something that once belonged to Miko. She hadn’t had the chance to see him yesterday, and now, standing before him, she was clearly overcome with emotion.

"Ah, well, the Wataboshi is a hood," Miko explained softly, her voice catching slightly. "It symbolizes the bride’s submission to her new husband, covering her head as a mark of devotion... though some say it was meant to conceal the bride's hair, where bad spirits might hide." She paused, wiping her eyes with a napkin, trying to stifle a sniffle. "But that's just one theory. The real reason was simply functional protecting the bride’s elaborate hair and makeup from dust before the ceremony."

Wolfram listened attentively, his fingers gently grazing the soft fabric of the hood. It felt smoother than he had expected, almost comforting against his skin.

"Mama," he started hesitantly, his voice trailing off as his heart fluttered nervously. "Is it normal to feel... like this?" He swallowed, unsure of how to finish. His anxiety weighed on him-this was real, this moment, this transformation.

Miko tilted her head slightly, offering a gentle smile as her fingers stroked the edge of his sleeve. "Normal to be afraid?" she asked, her tone soft. When Wolfram nodded, she continued, "Of course, it's normal. After tonight, you and Yuuri will belong to one another." Her words were warm and comforting, but they also made Wolfram’s heart race even faster. Belong to Yuuri. The thought filled him with an anxious, thrilling excitement.

His face flushed as he lowered his gaze, the words echoing in his mind. After tonight, he would truly belong to Yuuri, and the idea both frightened and thrilled him all at once. He prayed that their future would be filled with happiness.

Just as his thoughts swirled, the door to the room creaked open. Greta bounced into the room; her energy infectious, followed by Lady Cecilie.

"Honey-chan!" Greta squealed; her hands pressed together in front of her in a playful gesture. "You look so pretty! I hope to wear something like this when it's my turn!"

Wolfram chuckled, the familiar warmth of Greta’s innocence making his nerves momentarily ease. "You still have a long way to go," he teased gently, his smile fond.

"You need a boyfriend first," Lady Cecilie added with a mischievous giggle, winking at Greta.

Wolfram winced at the thought, his heart sinking a little. "Hahaue," he mumbled, the idea of Greta growing up, of her having a boyfriend or a girlfriend, making his chest tighten with unexpected anxiety.

Greta pouted, crossing her arms defiantly. "Maybe I already have one!" she declared with a dramatic flair. "Well, I don’t… but really, I could!"

Miko chuckled from behind him, her laughter soft and knowing, as she adjusted the layers of her dress.

"Oh, my little bubba," Lady Cecilie sighed, crossing the room with quick, graceful steps before wrapping Wolfram in a tight embrace. "I feel like I’ve only just gotten you back, and now Heika is taking you away from me."

"Hahaue," Wolfram sighed, his voice a little more exasperated than he intended, though it was laced with affection. "We’re not leaving the castle, not really. We’ll still be here with you."

Lady Cecilie sniffled, shaking her head in dramatic fashion. "It’s not the same!" she protested, her voice thick with emotion.

Wolfram hummed softly, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. He adored her, loved her more than he could express, but sometimes she was just so… much. His fingers twitched nervously, clasping together in front of himself as he tried to collect his thoughts.

"Look, Honey-chan," Greta interjected brightly, holding up a bouquet of flowers. "I helped put it together this time!"

Wolfram swallowed, his eyes drifting down to the bouquet she held out to him. It was lovely, a mix of flowers in various sizes and colours, but what struck him most was its elegance. Smaller, more graceful than the large, overwhelming bouquet he had held yesterday, it was a true work of art. He felt a swell of emotion in his chest.

"Thank you, Greta. I love it," Wolfram said softly, his voice thick with gratitude as he gently took the bouquet from her hands.

Greta beamed, her eyes shining with pride, especially when Wolfram carefully plucked one of the flowers and tucked it into her curls. Her hair was soft and shining, the delicate pink of her dress a perfect complement to the ribbons that adorned her arms and hair. Wolfram had been told only he could wear white today, as the Moah’s bride. It felt strange, but the thought warmed him, nonetheless.

"Look, I even got to add a sunflower!" Greta chimed with excitement.

True to her word, a large sunflower was nestled in the centre of the bouquet, its golden petals radiant and striking. Wolfram couldn’t help but admire it-so beautiful, so full of life.

He smiled down at the flowers, feeling utterly special, but the attention from everyone made his cheeks burn. He wanted to hide, but the sweetness of the moment overwhelmed him. The gaze of everyone, the warmth in the room-it was all too much. He shyly turned his face, trying to conceal his blush.

"Wolfe!" Lady Cecilie gasped, her voice filled with playful concern. "Don’t do that, you’ll smudge your makeup!"

Wolfram froze, his face even redder now, caught between the tender chaos of his emotions and the very real weight of what was happening. Today. Tonight. His future was about to unfold, and though he felt both terrified and excited, it was undeniable-this was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Miko’s soft giggle echoed in the room as she gazed at Wolfram with fond eyes. “You look absolutely stunning, Wolf-chan. Yuu-chan is so lucky to have you,” she sighed, her hand gently resting on her cheek, her gaze full of admiration.

Lady Cecilie, her eyes twinkling mischievously, couldn't resist adding, “I’m sure Heika won’t be able to keep his hands off you tonight! I have no doubt he’ll ravish you!” Her voice was light, but there was a sparkle of excitement in her words. “Tonight, will be a night to remember, I’m certain of it!”

Greta, ever the playful spirit, let out a soft giggle, her hands rising to cover her mouth in a mix of innocence and mischief. Miko’s initial shock was palpable, her eyes wide as she looked at Lady Cecilie, who had no shame in her bold comment. But soon, even Miko’s face softened into a smile, a knowing look passing between them. Wolfram, meanwhile, could only shift his gaze between the two women, unsure of how to react. His eyes eventually landed on Greta, and he smiled nervously, realizing with a slight pang that the little girl he had once known was no longer the same. Greta was growing up, becoming a young woman before his eyes.

Still, Wolfram couldn't shake the deep blush creeping across his cheeks. The thought of tonight made his heart race, each beat echoing his nervousness.

Tonight will be a night to remember...

The words danced in his mind, making him tremble both with anticipation and fear. He had thought about it more times than he cared to admit-what it would be like, how much it might hurt. He was scared, yet exhilarated. He wanted to belong to Yuuri, wanted to be with him, to share everything. Yet doubts gnawed at him-what if he wasn’t good enough? What if he couldn't fulfil his role the way he was supposed to?

So many uncertain thoughts swirled in his mind, but deep down, he knew that no matter what happened, Yuuri loved him, and he loved Yuuri. That was enough. Right?

He was no longer a child. He was standing on the precipice of adulthood, his heart pounding with the weight of what was to come. After tonight, his life would change in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend. He would be the royal consort, the first Omega in centuries, and though there was an air of responsibility to it, he couldn't help but feel a little scared. The pressure was mounting, and it was expected that he would bear a child by the end of the summer.

With a sudden shake of his head, Wolfram pushed those thoughts away. He had to focus. There were other things to think about-more immediate things.

Lady Cecilie’s voice brought him back to the present. “It’s time, Wolfe. Are you ready?” she asked, flicking a loose golden curl over her shoulder with a playful smile.

Wolfram drew in a shaky breath, a meek but genuine smile curving his lips. His hands tightened around the delicate bouquet in his grasp. Was he ready? As ready as he could be, he supposed.

“A-As ready as I’ll ever be,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with a nervous excitement.

Miko, ever the comforting presence, took his hands in hers, squeezing gently. “Oh, Wolf-chan,” she said sweetly, her eyes soft with affection. “This is your day, your special day. Everything will unfold just as it should. It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous. I was just as anxious on my wedding day.”

Wolfram blinked, her words slowly sinking in as he muttered in disbelief, “I’m getting married.”

“That’s right, Wolf-chan,” Miko chuckled, her voice light with amusement, though there was a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

Wolfram’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red, a mix of embarrassment and wonder flooding him. He nodded; his throat tight. He was getting married; he repeated in his mind. It was really happening. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but before he could, a knock at the door interrupted him.

The door slid open, revealing the familiar figure of Yozak, his bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he stepped into the room.

Yozak let out a low whistle, his gaze sweeping over Wolfram with an appreciative look. “Well, well, don’t you look absolutely alluring. Not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous.” He winked playfully, his tone light, but filled with affection.

Wolfram’s cheeks flushed even darker, and he instinctively bowed his head, feeling an unexpected flutter of self-consciousness. He was used to being complimented, but this felt different-today, it felt real. The thought had been lingering in his mind since earlier, but now it seemed to be undeniable. He truly did look good today.

“You look rather dashing yourself,” Wolfram replied, his lips curling into a teasing smirk at the look of surprise on Yozak’s face.

Greta, ever the cheeky one, added with a mischievous grin, “Yes, Yozak! I’m sure Conrad would be more than pleased to see you looking so handsome.”

Yozak’s face darkened slightly, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks as he turned his gaze away with a playful pout.

“Ha-ha, teasing the poor spy, are we?” he grumbled, though the good-natured smile never left his face.

“Anyway,” Yozak continued, his tone shifting to something more serious, “It’s time. Everyone is waiting.”

The moment had arrived.

Wolfram squared his shoulders, standing up straighter. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he wouldn’t let it overwhelm him. He would walk with grace. He would walk like this was his day, his future unfolding right in front of him. He paid close attention to his steps, ensuring he wouldn’t trip on the kimono again, especially not today. Today, the last thing he needed was to stumble.

Tonight was the beginning of everything.

The ceremony was being held in the kingdom’s most sacred place, the very heart of their traditions. The journey to the temple seemed to pass in a flash, and Wolfram couldn’t help but feel a pang of irritation. Why did they all have to travel separately? It seemed like another one of those strange customs he never quite understood. Before he knew it, the carriage had come to a halt, and they were standing outside the temple, the grandeur of it making him feel both awe and anxiety.

As he stepped out of the carriage, Wolfram’s eyes were drawn immediately to the shrine maidens lined up before him. Their robes fluttered in the breeze, adorned with ribbons and delicate flowers, their expressions a mix of reverence and joy. It was a celebration of the union between an Alpha and Omega-a bond he could barely wrap his mind around, but it was happening.

He was about to become part of it.

No one spoke a word. The temple, devoted to Shinou, was simple in its beauty-no grand banners or colourful decorations-just the soft glow of pink candles flickering in the sacred space. The shrine maidens moved with graceful precision, falling to their knees and bowing low, their foreheads nearly touching the ground in an act of deep respect.

Wolfram’s throat tightened as he watched them. The weight of it all pressed heavily on him. He wanted to protest, to tell them to rise. He was just an Omega, why were they bowing to him? These were the most esteemed Betas in the kingdom, the keepers of the temple, the purest and most respected and yet here they were, lowering themselves to him. It felt so foreign, so wrong. He almost spoke, but something stopped him-the way they looked at him. Their gazes were warm, filled with admiration and kindness, their smiles soft and sweet.

Instead of speaking, Wolfram found his eyes dropping to the flowers in his hands. He blushed, feeling his heart race from the overwhelming emotion that surged through him.

“Wolfram?”

The gentle voice of Miko broke through his thoughts. He quickly turned away from the kneeling maidens and gazed down the long, candle-lit corridor ahead. The heavy doors at the end of it beckoned him. He was supposed to walk down that path. He could hear the soft strains of music seeping through the thick doors. Everyone was waiting on the other side. Yuuri was waiting on the other side.

“Wolfe, are you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with concern as she placed a reassuring hand on his trembling shoulder.

Wolfram swallowed; his throat tight. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. Finally, he managed a shaky nod.

Miko, sensing his unease, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. Her smile was warm and comforting. “It’s okay, Wolf-chan. You’ve got this.” Her hand squeezed his before she turned toward the heavy door. She slipped through the opening, her heels clicking faintly as she disappeared from sight.

The door barely opened before it was quickly shut again, and Wolfram’s heart gave an anxious leap. He didn’t have time to get a good look, but he caught a blur of people standing just beyond the threshold-a lot of people.

He knew what was supposed to happen. He’d been briefed on the entire process. Lady Cecilie would go first, followed by Greta, who would scatter petals along the path and then, it was his turn. Gunter had made sure to rehearse it all with him, ensuring he knew exactly what to do. It should be easy enough. The plan was simple-why, then, was he feeling so nervous?

The sharp sound of a horn echoed from the other side of the door, and Wolfram’s heart skipped a beat.

Lady Cecilie grinned, clapping her hands together in excitement. She bounced lightly on her heels before turning to Wolfram, her arms opening to envelope him in a tight, comforting hug. Strangely, she didn’t try to overwhelm him with her bust but instead kissed him gently on the forehead before pulling away.

“My precious little baby,” she sighed, her voice full of emotion. “You look absolutely gorgeous. I’m so proud to have you as my child. I’ve blessed every day since you returned to my arms. I love you more than words can say.”

Wolfram smiled softly, feeling a warmth in his chest that he could barely contain. “I love you too, Hahaue,” he murmured, his voice a little shaky. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Yuuri won’t hurt me. He’ll be the last person to do that.”

“I know,” Lady Cecilie whispered, a faraway look in her eyes. “Yuuri loves you too much to bring you harm. But still…” She paused, her voice softening. “I just don’t want to let my Omega go.”

“You’ll always be my Hahaue,” Wolfram said, his heart aching with the truth of it.

Lady Cecilie cupped his face gently, her smile radiant and full of pride. “I’m so proud of you, Wolf-chan. You’re so special, and soon, you will become the Queen.”

Wolfram’s stomach fluttered at her words, a swell of emotion rising in his chest. He smiled up at her, unable to help the shaky breath that escaped him. She kissed his forehead once more, her touch soft and tender, before she quickly wiped her eyes and, as if nothing had happened, turned and walked toward the door, her graceful steps carrying her away.

Wolfram stood still, his heart thumping in his chest. He listened to the soft new melody coming from the room beyond, his pulse racing as the reality of what was to come finally settled over him.

"Wolfram..." Greta’s voice gently cut through his thoughts, her words soft but filled with sincerity. "I’m so glad Papa picked you."

The Omega was left standing alone outside the grand hall, surrounded only by the quiet shrine maidens, their serene presence doing little to calm the storm inside him. He knew it was almost time to step through those doors, but suddenly, everything felt too much. The air seemed to close in on him, and he couldn’t catch his breath. It was as if a thick rope had been thrown around his neck, pulling tighter with every passing second.

In and out, in and out... His heart raced, his chest tightening, and he clenched his eyes shut, fighting back the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

It was his turn now. His turn to enter that room, to face everyone who was waiting.

The doors slowly creaked open, and in that instant, Wolfram found himself standing at the centre of a thousand gazes. All eyes were on him. It was more than he’d expected-more people than he could even count. Nobles, important figures, and faces he’d met once but never thought he’d see again. He could feel the weight of their stares, some warm, others cold, and a few, he swore, filled with disdain. He almost heard their judgment in the quiet hum of the room.

But Wolfram refused to let the tension in the air overwhelm him. He focused instead on the one person who mattered most-Yuuri.

His heart skipped when their eyes met. In the sea of faces, there was only him. The rest of the room blurred into nothing as Wolfram’s gaze locked onto the man he loved, and his nerves calmed. This was what he wanted, more than anything. Yuuri was standing there, surrounded by friends and family, with that smile-the one that could make Wolfram’s heart flutter uncontrollably, the one that made him weak in the knees.

Murata was there, standing proudly with Ulrike in front of a blessed statue of Shinou. And next to Yuuri stood Shouri, and then his own brothers-Conrad, tall and reassuring, and Gwendal, steady as ever. On his side of the room, Greta, Gisela, and Anissina stood in attendance, each a reminder of the love and support surrounding him. Even Lady Cecilie and Miko were standing beside their son, their presence a calming force. Thorn and Lucas were somewhere in the crowd, though they were just part of the audience now, blending into the sea of faces.

Wolfram couldn’t help but notice the guards. There were so many of them, standing tall and watchful. The royal guards, under Gwendal and Conrad’s command, were scattered strategically around the hall, reminding Wolfram that he was utterly safe. There was no threat here, no danger.

…and yet, everyone was staring.

The thought made Wolfram shudder. He took a sharp breath, trying to steady his shaking hands, his legs feeling unsteady. But he willed himself to move forward, step by shaky step, making his way toward Yuuri. He was determined not to trip, to make it to the altar without a misstep. Thankfully, his feet obeyed, and he reached Yuuri’s side without incident but even as he stood there, the words don’t look at him, don’t look at him yet whispered in his mind. He couldn’t bear to meet Yuuri’s gaze just yet, so instead, he focused intently on the bouquet in his hands, gripping it tightly to keep his nerves in check.

"Wolfram," Yuuri’s voice was soft, almost tender, and it sent a wave of warmth flooding through Wolfram’s chest. "You look... stunning."

A rush of warmth filled Wolfram’s cheeks, and he felt the sudden, fierce rush of blood rise to his face. He lifted his eyes, gathering all his courage to meet Yuuri’s gaze, and his breath caught. Yuuri’s eyes were warm, sincere, and full of affection.

He really meant it. Wolfram’s heart fluttered wildly, and he couldn’t stop the shy smile that spread across his lips.

“You look handsome, too,” Wolfram said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Though... it’s a bit different from what you wore yesterday.”

He remembered the Montsuki Haori Hakama Yuuri had worn the day before-how it had fit him so perfectly, how it had made his eyes seem even brighter. Today, Yuuri wore something similar, but it was darker-completely black, yet no less striking. Wolfram found himself admiring the way Yuuri looked, even more so now that they were standing together.

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed lightly at the compliment. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice full of affection. “But... I’m sure I look like nothing compared to you. You’re more magnificent than I could ever imagine. You look... more beautiful than I ever thought possible.”

Before Wolfram could respond, a muffled cough broke through the moment, followed by a soft chuckle. Murata was clearing his throat, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wolfram’s face immediately turned red with embarrassment.

Of course, he thought, we're in front of everyone. His gaze quickly dropped back to the bouquet, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes, especially the nobles who had been watching so intently.

“Well, now that our lovely couple has finished their little flirting session at the altar,” Murata teased, his smirk aimed playfully at Yuuri, “we can finally begin this wondrous occasion.”

The words seemed to echo in Wolfram’s ears, and as the laughter of the room rippled around him, he couldn’t help but feel his nerves settle just a little.

This was it. This was really happening.

Yuuri let out a soft snort, rolling his eyes in amusement, but he didn’t say a word to Murata. Instead, he glanced around at the crowd, his shoulders dropping in an almost imperceptible sigh.

Murata, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his grin, and his eyes sparkled mischievously. He bounced his eyebrows and, with a playful flourish, bowed his head dramatically. “Dearly beloved,” he began, his voice carrying through the grand hall. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of our beloved Moah and his chosen mate, as they bind their hearts in the holy bonds of matrimony. May the happiness we share with them today follow them always.”

A loud snicker echoed from somewhere in the hall, and Wolfram felt his body tense, only to force himself to relax again, though his heart was still racing in his chest.

“May the happiness we share with them today follow them always!” Murata repeated, this time his voice stronger, tinged with a note of playfulness. He narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, clearly trying to ignore the interruption. “For their bond will only grow with each passing day.”

He smiled warmly at the couple, his gaze full of affection and sincerity. “I’ve known Yuuri and Wolfram for quite a while, and I can’t think of two people more perfect for one another. They deserve each other, more than anyone else ever could.”

Murata then reached out for Yuuri’s hands, guiding them gently over to Wolfram’s, bringing their hands together once more, this time holding the bouquet between them.

“It is custom,” Murata said, his tone softening, “For the bride to go first with their vows.”

Wolfram’s heart leapt in his chest as he nervously bit his bottom lip, looking up into Yuuri’s eyes. Just the sight of him made everything seem a little bit easier. His thoughts were still scattered, but now, as he met his mate’s gaze, the words he’d struggled to put together felt closer to his heart.

He cleared his throat, trying to calm his nerves. “For so long, I wondered if I would ever find my prince-the one to sweep me off my feet. I never imagined I’d find a King. My soulmate.” Wolfram’s voice wavered, but he pushed forward. “The day you found me, Yuuri... that was the day I found my best friend. The day I found everything I had been looking for, my whole life, all in one person.”

He paused, his chest tightening with emotion. He took a deep breath, willing himself to steady his racing heart. Then, with a nervous but determined smile, he continued, “And now, here we are, with a future ahead of us and I... I only want to spend it with you. My king. My soulmate. My friend. My Alpha.”

For a moment, the room was silent. The weight of his words hung in the air, making Wolfram feel lighter, more certain, despite his nerves.

“U-Unless... you don’t want to...” he added quickly, his voice faltering, and he blushed bright red when Yuuri let out a soft, affectionate chuckle.

Yuuri shook his head, his lips curling into a sweet, reassuring smile. “Wolfram,” he began, his voice soft and filled with warmth, “I thought this would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, but when I saw you walking down that aisle…”

“I knew I was doing the right thing. I realized then how simple it really was. How right it felt.” He squeezed Wolfram’s hands gently, his eyes filled with so much love. “It feels so right to be here with you, right now. I love you more than anything.”

He looked at Wolfram, his expression tender. “Any surprise that comes our way, I know we’ll face it together. Because as long as we’re together, I will always love you. I know, deep inside me, you’re the person I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with.”

Murata, who had been watching the exchange with a wide grin, couldn’t resist the warmth in the moment. He looked between the two of them, his heart clearly touched, before bowing his head low in respectful admiration. With a final glance at the couple, he stepped aside, allowing Ulrike to take her place at the centre.

The petite woman’s eyes were glowing, and her wide, kind smile made her look as if she were glowing herself. Her voice, soft but full of sweetness, called to Wolfram.

“Wolfram,” she said, her smile never wavering, “Please, repeat these words after me.”

“I, Wolfram von Bielefeld, take thee Yuuri, as my lawfully wedded husband. I take thee in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

Wolfram’s voice trembled slightly, a shiver running through him as he struggled to steady his nerves. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his words steady, but his breath hitched a little. “I-I, Wolfram von Bielefeld, take thee Yuuri, as my lawfully wedded husband. I take thee in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

The moment the words left his lips, Yuuri’s hands tightened around his, a gentle reassurance that sent warmth blooming through Wolfram’s chest.

Ulrike giggled softly, her voice light and melodic. “Excellent. Yuuri,” she turned her gaze from Wolfram to the King, her violet eyes sparkling, “Please, repeat these words after me.”

“I, Yuuri Shibuya, take thee Wolfram, as my lawfully wedded wife. I take thee in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

Wolfram fought the instinct to flinch at being called Yuuri’s “wife,” but he kept silent, unwilling to let anything spoil the moment. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest, it felt as if the entire hall might hear it. Or perhaps, just Yuuri. But the Alpha’s face was calm, his eyes locked on Wolfram, not betraying any sign of noticing his nervousness.

“I, Yuuri Shibuya,” Yuuri began, his voice soft, almost a whisper, as he lowered his head slightly to catch Wolfram’s eyes. “Take thee Wolfram, as my lawfully wedded wife. I take thee in sickness and in health, till death do us part.”

Ulrike closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, her presence serene as she stood in silence for a few moments. Then, with a smile, she bowed her head slightly toward them, her long silver hair flowing around her shoulders as she stretched her arms out in front of her.

“Please, the rings,” she said, her voice filled with the calm certainty of a sacred ritual.

Greta, standing behind Wolfram, made a soft sound of acknowledgment. She quickly moved forward, holding a small black cushion adorned with two gleaming rings. She smiled brightly as Yuuri turned toward her, running his hand affectionately through her chocolate-brown curls.

“With this ring,” Yuuri said softly, his voice full of resolve and love, “I symbolize my claim on you. From this moment forward, you are my mate. My soulmate.” With tender care, he slid the ring onto Wolfram’s finger.

Wolfram’s breath caught in his throat. The ring, a custom Yuuri had introduced to Shin Mazoku, felt like it weighed more than gold, each curve representing the bond they shared. Gunter had explained that this was part of their tradition, a blend of customs both new and old, a sign of unity for their union.

His hands trembled ever so slightly, but he steadied himself, turning his gaze back to Yuuri. His voice faltered as he spoke, trying to keep the nerves at bay. “I take this ring to symbolize my claim on you. From the moment it is on your finger, you are my mate. My other half, and my soulmate.”

Wolfram’s heart swelled with emotion, the vows, the ring-everything felt real now, and yet his mind was still reeling. His soul, it seemed, was already bound to Yuuri in ways words couldn’t fully capture.

Ulrike nodded with approval, then reached behind her to retrieve a long, soft piece of fabric from a box. She held it with reverent hands before allowing it to hover above a bowl of water. Bowing her head, she pressed her hands together in prayer, her energy radiating outward as the water began to glow softly.

“With this blessed silk, woven from the finest Mazoku fibres,” Ulrike’s voice was full of reverence as she carefully removed the silk from the water, “Infused with Houjutsu, this silk shall bear the imprint of your mated souls.”

Yuuri extended his hand, his fingers intertwining with Wolfram’s, their wedding bands pressing against one another as they held tightly. The connection was electric, warm, comforting. Wolfram’s heart skipped a beat.

Ulrike carefully wrapped the silk around their wrists, joining their right hands together. As she worked, her hands glowed faintly with her maryoku, the energy swirling around them as the silk began to fuse with their skin. Wolfram felt a sharp twinge as the silk burned into him, its magic imprinted on his soul.

The pain was brief but intense, and he instinctively jerked his hand away, a sharp gasp escaping his lips. His fingers clenched down on the back of Yuuri’s hand, desperately trying to hold back the pain. Yuuri’s fingers, in turn, rubbed against the back of Wolfram’s hand, offering silent comfort.

Despite his discomfort, Wolfram bit back any cry of pain. He felt the silk burn away, merging with his skin. When the process was finished, the dark lines remained symbols of their union, glowing faintly when their hands were pressed together.

“Shinou has given you his blessings,” Ulrike said softly after a long moment, her voice filled with peace and warmth.

Murata, unable to resist the moment’s tension, leaned forward with his signature Cheshire grin, his voice cutting through the quiet. “This is the part where you take your new wife into your arms and kiss the living hell out of her!” he chimed with a laugh.

Yuuri’s eyes widened briefly, before narrowing into a mischievous glare. Wolfram, flustered, felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He had barely had a chance to process the sacredness of the moment before Yuuri pulled him in. Their lips collided with a gentle but urgent pressure, the kiss deep and sweet, a rush of feeling that left Wolfram breathless. It was perfect-so long overdue, and yet it felt like the only moment that mattered.

The crowd cheered; voices raised in joy. “To the happy couple!” they cried, followed by a cascade of applause. Flower petals and rice rained down around them as they slowly parted, the new melody filling the hall with a sense of celebration and joy.

The music shifted, faster and more vibrant now, as voices mingled, and the nobles began to chatter, their conversations drowned by the triumphant atmosphere of the celebration.

Wolfram awkwardly cast a glance around the grand hall, feeling a sense of unease settle over him. He had only been here twice before in his life, and both instances had been fraught with danger and fear. The first time, he had nearly died. The second time, Yuuri had almost met the same fate. It wasn’t exactly the ideal setting for a moment so precious, a moment that was meant to mark the beginning of a lifetime.

“Congratulations, Heika, Joō,” Ulrike’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and sweet, like the gentle rustling of autumn leaves. She placed her hands delicately before herself, her eyes shining with warmth, and bowed deeply in respect to the couple.

Wolfram blinked, momentarily confused by the formality of the words, and before he could speak, Yuuri had already returned the bow with a smile. Not wanting to seem impolite, Wolfram followed suit, bowing slightly as well, the unfamiliarity of the gesture making him feel even more nervous than before.

“Thank you, Ulrike,” Yuuri’s voice was kind, filled with the softness that always seemed to ease Wolfram’s anxieties.

“Heika, Joō, you both have my blessings. I pray that your life together is filled with joy, peace, and endless love,” Ulrike continued, her smile lighting up her face. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest for a while.”

Yuuri nodded, his smile warm and understanding. “Of course. Thank you again, Ulrike.”

Ulrike bowed once more, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, and then she turned to leave, followed by the other shrine maidens. Their graceful movements seemed almost too perfect, as if they were made of light and air. Wolfram watched them, the image of Ulrike’s retreating form lingering in his mind, a mixture of admiration and wonder filling his chest. She was, after all, one of the most powerful figures in all of Shin Makoku, chosen by Shinou himself to be a conduit between the divine and the people. Wolfram had witnessed her transformation before, the incredible shift from her child-like form to her adult self, and it never failed to leave him in awe.

As he continued to watch, something caught his eye. A shift in the atmosphere, a subtle but undeniable change. The nobles, those who had once greeted him with polite smiles and courteous words, were now staring at him with something far less friendly. He could feel their eyes upon him, sharp and judgmental. Glares narrowed in his direction, and Wolfram’s stomach churned uncomfortably.

They were judging him.

Not everyone was thrilled about the wedding. He had known that, but he hadn’t expected such open hostility, not with Yuuri standing beside him. He had hoped that, for once, being with Yuuri would be enough to silence the whispers but it seemed that once an Omega, always an Omega, no matter how strong or devoted he was.

Just as his heart began to sink, a soft, familiar voice broke through the tension. Greta’s face suddenly appeared in his line of sight, her expression radiant with joy, her eyes sparkling with innocent care and affection.

“Greta,” Wolfram breathed, a warm smile tugging at his lips as he gazed down at the small girl. The sight of her, with her bright eyes and pure heart, was a welcome comfort amidst the storm of his own emotions.

Greta, in her usual carefree manner, reached out and gently grasped Wolfram’s hand between her tiny palms. Her touch was soft, innocent, and filled with trust as she looked down at his hand, her brow furrowing in quiet thought.

“Did it hurt? You and Papa, both have it, right?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.

Wolfram chuckled softly, a nervous breath escaping him as he nodded. “Well… it did. Only for a little while though,” he said, trying to reassure her with a small smile. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

In truth, he had almost forgotten about the sting. The mark had burned for only a few moments, then faded as if nothing had happened nut now, as he looked down at his hand, the black ribbon-like mark that adorned his skin was all too real. It was a symbol of their bond, indelible and permanent.

“It's supposed to be symbolic,” a deep voice suddenly boomed from behind them, startling both Wolfram and Greta. It was rich and powerful, cutting through the moment like a sword. They both jumped, their eyes wide in surprise.

Wolfram turned to find Waltorana von Bielefeld, his uncle, standing behind them. The powerful Beta, head of the Bielefeld family, regarded them with a stern expression. Wolfram had met him only a handful of times, each encounter leaving him with a mixture of fear and respect. The first time had been at Yuuri’s annual ball, when Lady Cecilie had insisted that Wolfram meet the man. It had been terrifying but somehow comforting at the same time.

“Wolfram,” Waltorana said, his voice low but filled with authority, “This mark signifies that Wolfram belongs to the Moah now. No one may approach him with the intent of courting him. His heart, as well as his future, are bound to the King.”

Wolfram’s stomach turned at the sudden weight of his uncle’s words, but he couldn’t deny the truth in them. The mark on his hand, the bond between him and Yuuri, was no longer just a symbol-it was a declaration.

The first time Wolfram had met his uncle; it was right after he had returned from Earth. So much had happened since then, and it felt like his world had been turned upside down. Gwendal had refused to accept Yuuri and Wolfram’s “engagement,” and he had made it clear that he didn’t want them together. But then, Waltorana had stepped in-his uncle, powerful and imposing-and demanded that he take the Omega back to the Bielefeld castle.

Wolfram could still remember the way Waltorana’s eyes had gleamed with determination. He had wanted Wolfram to leave, to become the next head of the Bielefeld family, to be moulded into the man his uncle thought he should be but Wolfram’s birth rights-rights his father had bestowed upon him-belonged to Waltorana now.

No one wanted him to go, least of all Lady Cecilie, who had fought fiercely to protect him. Wolfram’s memory of that time felt like a blur, but he would never forget the sound of Lady Cecilie’s hands slamming down onto the table, challenging Waltorana’s claim over his birthright.

His mother had won that battle, and Wolfram had stayed, much to his relief. It had been a close call, and the terror of almost being torn away from everything he knew had left a lasting mark on him.

Now, standing in front of his uncle again, Wolfram felt that same knot of unease tightens in his chest. "Uncle," he said, bowing his head in respect, though the weight of anxiety still pressed against his ribs.

Waltorana gave a dismissive snort, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Nephew, you are now the Joō. You bow to no one but your husband," he declared, before his own head lowered in a mock bow. "So, I, too, shall bow before you."

Wolfram blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He exchanged a confused glance with Greta, both of them unsure of what had just transpired, but neither of them was about to question it. They chose to go along with the moment, the strangeness of it hanging in the air.

"Oh! So, Honey-chan is off-limits now!" Greta exclaimed with an excited grin, her wide eyes sparkling as she turned her attention back to the shimmering markings on Wolfram’s hand.

Wolfram chuckled nervously, relieved to hear Greta’s light-hearted voice in the tense silence. But Waltorana twitched at the nickname, his composure slipping for a moment. "Precisely. The Heika and Joō’s wedding band is black-the colour of royalty," he said, his voice slightly strained.

Greta giggled; her cheeks pink as she hummed thoughtfully. "So, there are other colours, then? Maybe mine will be pink!" she mused, her voice full of innocent delight.

Wolfram smiled softly at her, reaching over to brush a lock of her hair away from her face. She giggled again; her happiness contagious. The warmth in his chest lingered, but his gaze drifted back to his uncle, unease creeping back into his thoughts. His heart raced as Waltorana stood there, a figure of authority and power, his eyes locked on Wolfram. The Omega couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still somehow being measured, judged.

Before he could dwell on it further, Lady Cecilie’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. "Hello, brother," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness as she slid between Waltorana and Wolfram, a sickly-sweet smile painted on her lips. "You’re not bothering my Honey-chan, are you? Remember the last time you did?"

Wolfram winced, and he saw Waltorana’s eyes widen with surprise before narrowing into a sharp, furious glare. His uncle’s jaw clenched, and with a huff, he turned away, lifting his chin in an unmistakable display of pride.

"I was merely congratulating my nephew on his marriage," he grumbled.

"I see," Lady Cecilie purred, her head tilting to the side, a laugh escaping her lips, full of sweetness and venom in equal measure. "Yes, it was indeed lovely, wasn’t it, dear brother?" she added, her gaze lingering just a moment too long on Wolfram.

Feeling more awkward than ever, Wolfram slowly began to edge away, his mind buzzing with everything that had just transpired. He had barely managed to stay by Greta’s side, admiring the wedding band on his hand when suddenly, she was across the room, chatting excitedly with Anissina. Wolfram shook his head with a small, quiet chuckle, watching her with affection.

His eyes then flickered over to Yuuri, who was in the midst of an obviously uncomfortable conversation with his family. Yuuri’s face was flushed, his expression a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, as if the young King couldn’t get away fast enough. Wolfram couldn’t help but smile softly. He knew exactly how Yuuri felt, their wedding had been full of joy, but it had also come with so many challenges.

As Wolfram continued to observe, he caught a quiet whisper from a nearby noble, their voice low but carrying in the stillness of the hall.

"How could our Heika choose an Omega to be our Joō?"

Wolfram’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down around him. He pressed his lips together, the sting of the words settling deep in his chest. He turned his gaze away from the speaker, choosing not to confront them. Instead, he swallowed thickly, forcing a smile, though it felt thin and brittle.

It was impossible to ignore the truth that many of the nobles still didn’t accept him. Yuuri may have changed the law for Omegas, but not everyone had embraced it. Wolfram couldn’t help but wonder how many people in this very hall resented their marriage.

Sighing quietly, Wolfram took a step back, his desire for solitude growing stronger with each passing moment. He needed a break-a few seconds to breathe, away from the crowd and he certainly didn’t want to interrupt Yuuri’s time with his family; this was his wedding too, after all.

Just as he was about to retreat to a quiet corner, a voice called out behind him. "Lord Bielefeld... or, I suppose, Joō now?"

Wolfram jolted, spinning around quickly. He didn’t want to seem rude-not after the panic attack he had suffered during his first formal ball. That had been a nightmare. The woman who stood before him was familiar, but not someone he had ever spoken to much. A noblewoman, perhaps the daughter of a noble he had met once or twice, but she had always remained silent, observant, as if waiting for something.

Wolfram’s heart skipped as he found himself caught in her gaze.

"Oh, ah, Lady Amber," Wolfram said softly, lowering his head in a polite bow. But as he did, he couldn’t help but notice the way Lady Amber was looking at him-her gaze sharp, calculating, and laced with something cold that sent a horrible shiver down his spine.

Lady Amber of the Snockin Clan. Wolfram couldn't deny that she was stunning-her beauty undeniable. Her hair, a cascade of fiery red, gleamed under the light, each shade of crimson weaving together in a perfect, tight bun, half up, half down. The colour was so vibrant, it almost seemed to burn. Her dress, a rich royal red, clung to her figure like it had been painted on, accentuating every curve, and her eyes-red as rubies-seemed to bore straight into him.

"I must commend you, Joō," Lady Amber said, her voice dripping with an air of superiority. She tilted her head slightly, her fan tapping thoughtfully against her chin as she studied him.

Wolfram blinked slowly, caught off guard by the words. "C-Commend me? Oh, for the wedding? Thank you," he managed, his voice faltering slightly.

A soft, mocking laugh escaped Lady Amber’s lips. "My, my... not the sharpest, are you?" she teased, her smile playing with the edges of something cruel.

"I suppose that’s why Heika is so... fond of you?" she added, her tone dripping with disdain.

Wolfram’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he instinctively took a small step back, feeling the faintest trace of hostility radiating off her. It was there in the way she carried herself, like her father’s venom ran through her veins.

"Excuse me?" Wolfram murmured quietly, his voice trembling as he tried to keep his composure.

Lady Amber’s smile stretched wider, her gaze becoming predatory. She lifted her chin, her nose tilting upward in a show of superiority. "Isn't it obvious? I mean, it's quite impressive that you made it this far. All the way to marriage."

Her voice was smooth but filled with scorn. "I thought our Heika was just playing, experimenting, maybe. He couldn't possibly want a dirty Omega over a beautiful, stunning Beta, could he?" she hummed, her eyes narrowing as she took in his reaction.

"It seems I was wrong," she added with a sigh that seemed more like a victory than anything else. "We were all wrong."

Wolfram froze, his mouth opening and closing as his mind struggled to process the sting of her words. He hadn’t expected anyone to be this brazen, to say such things so openly. Sure, he knew not everyone approved of him, but to hear it spoken aloud like this... it felt like a slap to the face, and his eyes burned with the heat of humiliation.

"I do wonder, just how did you seduce Heika?" she purred, her voice soft but venomous.

The words hit him like a slap, and Wolfram recoiled as if she had physically struck him. Seduced Yuuri? Did they really think that? The thought was absurd. He had bonded with Yuuri, yes. They were destined to be together but to think he had manipulated his way into the king’s bed, to think that was how this had happened-it stung more than he cared to admit.

"I..." Wolfram’s voice faltered, his throat closing as he tried to find the words to explain, but nothing seemed to come out right.

Lady Amber leaned in, her perfume heavy in the air, and her voice dropped to a low, almost mocking whisper. "Heika must be something in bed, huh?" she cooed, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Admit it, you’re just a little whore."

Wolfram’s heart plummeted, the words sinking deep into his chest. A whore?

 Was that what people thought of him? He hadn’t even... He had never even been with Yuuri in that way. He had remained untouched, pure. Didn’t the mark on his hand prove that? Shinou’s blessing couldn’t have been given to them otherwise.

Before he could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension, smooth and commanding, sending a wave of heat and protection through Wolfram’s body.

"Hello, Lady Amber of Snockin Clan," Yuuri’s voice rang out, firm and unwavering.

Wolfram jumped, startled by the sudden presence. In an instant, Yuuri’s arm wrapped around him, pulling him close to his side, pressing him against the strong curve of his body. It was possessive, protective-Yuuri’s presence wrapped around him like a shield. The air between them hummed with barely contained energy, flickers of blue sparks almost dancing in the atmosphere, as if the very space was charged with Yuuri’s raw, protective power. Wolfram could feel the tension radiating off his husband, and his own heart raced in response.

Lady Amber stood straighter, her eyes widening in surprise, her previous bravado faltering. She swallowed thickly, then gave a forced, pale smile. "G-Good day, Heika. I was just congratulating Joō on the wedding."

Yuuri’s smile was tight, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Lady Amber. "Yes, I heard. Thank you," he said coldly, his voice smooth but laced with an underlying edge. "We decided to push our wedding back until now because Wolf wasn’t ready.”

“He’s quite pure in all aspects, you see. I didn’t want to push him into it," Yuuri continued, his brows raised in an almost mocking challenge, as if daring Lady Amber to say anything further.

Wolfram could sense the barely contained fury beneath Yuuri’s calm words, the protective possessiveness that was barely veiled. He leaned into his husband, his fingers brushing against the black silk of Yuuri’s kimono, tugging at it lightly-a silent plea for him to stay calm. Wolfram didn’t want him to start a fight over something so petty, but he could see the anger building in Yuuri’s eyes.

Lady Amber’s gaze flickered between them, her nervous laughter faltering as she nervously glanced at Wolfram. "Oh..." she stammered, "I see."

Yuuri tilted his head, his smile growing colder, more calculated. "I wonder, Lady Amber," he began, his voice smooth but carrying a dangerous edge, "Does Sir Herbert know how bold you’ve been tonight? At my wedding, no less?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t be pleased to find that the Snockin Clan has lost the Moah’s favour because of your... ignorant words." Yuuri’s gaze was unyielding, like a warning.

"Right?" Yuuri added, his voice softening into a teasing, innocent tone that sent a twinge of unease through the Beta’s body.

Lady Amber stared at him, her gaze flickering as the words settled in her mind. Slowly, her eyes widened, realization dawning, and without warning, she took a hasty step back, stammering.

"Oh, I-I apologize for my... incompetent words! Please forgive me!" she squealed, dropping into a low, apologetic bow.

Yuuri hummed in response, nonchalant and calm as ever. Wolfram, still a bit on edge, glanced down at the woman, watching her as she remained in her bowed position, her anxiety palpable in the air. Her body trembled as she waited for Yuuri’s response. Wolfram swallowed hard before looking up at his husband.

Yuuri’s smile was small but reassuring, the protective gleam in his eyes never faltering as he met Wolfram’s gaze.

"It’s... forgiven?" Wolfram asked quietly, his voice uncertain, then quickly added, glancing back at Lady Amber, "It’s forgiven."

Yuuri nodded firmly, his expression hardening just slightly as the tension began to dissolve. "As you heard from my wife," he said, emphasizing the word, "It’s been forgiven. Water under the bridge. I do hope you'll refrain from making such... ignorant remarks in the future. I will not tolerate them again." His voice carried an edge, louder than necessary, and it was clear he was sending a message not just to Lady Amber, but to the nobles who had been watching the scene unfold.

Lady Amber scrambled to straighten herself, her face pale as she bowed again, this time more hurriedly. "O-Of course! May I be excused?" she asked, her voice thin and nervous.

"You’re excused," Yuuri replied coolly, his gaze never leaving her.

And with that, the Beta fled, her footsteps quick as she disappeared into the crowd. Wolfram’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, his stomach still a little tight from the interaction. As he glanced around, he noticed the other nobles quickly turning their attention away, but the unease in the air didn’t quite dissipate. He turned his focus back to Yuuri, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he took a small step closer.

"Are... are you alright?" Wolfram asked softly, his voice almost lost in the buzz of the room.

Yuuri blinked at him, his expression shifting from one of quiet concern to something more incredulous. He turned to face Wolfram fully, shaking his head as if the question itself was almost ridiculous.

"What? Am I alright? Wolfram, I should be the one asking you that!" he said, his voice full of regret. "I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stop that from happening. I never wanted you to face that."

Wolfram smiled weakly, trying to ease Yuuri’s guilt. "It’s alright," he said with a soft sigh. "I was expecting something like that anyway... People will always have their opinions, no matter what."

Yuuri’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with frustration. "It shouldn’t have happened, not at our wedding," he grumbled, his gaze flickering to a few still-watchful nobles. "It’s not right. It’s not fair."

Wolfram’s smile softened, though it held a trace of sadness. He hummed softly, a faint reminder that the world wasn’t going to change overnight but time would come, he hoped. Time would heal the wounds, and the people who looked at him with disdain would learn to accept him.

He rose up on his tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on Yuuri’s lips, a quick, tender thing. "Thank you for coming to save my honour," he whispered with a snort, trying to lighten the mood.

Yuuri’s grin returned, though it was warmer now, with a glint of fondness. "Wolf, I’ll always come to defend your honour," he said, his words sincere.

Suddenly, an excited voice squealed from behind them, and Wolfram’s eyes widened as Miko bounded over, practically bouncing with joy. "Yu-chan, you’re so manly!" she gushed, eyes sparkling as she clutched her hands to her chest. "My precious little baby all grown up, defending his lover like that! So manly, so mature! You’re a man now!"

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, his embarrassment evident. "Mum..." he muttered sheepishly, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Murata appeared shortly after; his usual mischievous grin stretched wide as he approached. His eyes glinted behind his glasses, the sunlight catching them just right.

"He’s not quite a man yet," Murata teased, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. "Maybe after tonight, if he performs well."

"W-wait, Ken!" Yuuri sputtered, his face turning even redder as he glanced at Wolfram, his embarrassment now at full force.

“Best of luck, Yuuri~”

~#~

After a long, laughter-filled night, with music and dancing and an endless supply of embarrassing moments, Wolfram found himself back in the royal chamber with Yuuri. It had been over a month since he last stepped into this room, and now, it felt strange, like something was missing.

"I guess they really overdid it," Yuuri muttered sheepishly, surveying the room.

Wolfram smiled softly, glancing around at the flower petals scattered across the floor and the bed. "It’s... cute," he remarked, amused by the extravagant display.

Yuuri frowned slightly, kicking at a trail of black rose petals that had been laid out for them. The petals led from the door to the bed, with a cluster of Yuuri Naïve’s scattered across the soft covers.

"Yeah, but it’s black," Yuuri pouted, eyeing the petals with distaste.

Wolfram laughed, the sound light and carefree. "That’s the colour of royalty," he teased, amused by Yuuri’s sour expression.

Yuuri huffed, crossing his arms. "It should be red," he muttered, his voice almost petulant.

Wolfram smiled again, the warmth in his chest growing as he remembered something from Earth. "Red roses mean love and passion," he explained softly, picking up one of the petals and letting it slip through his fingers. The fragrance was sweet, delicate. "It’s what they symbolize."

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed at the mention of passion, his eyes flicking to Wolfram’s lips before quickly looking away. "Should we... get rid of them, then?" Wolfram asked shyly, his voice soft, unsure.

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck nervously, glancing at the roses and then at Wolfram. "Do... do you like them?" he asked, a touch of insecurity creeping into his voice.

Wolfram nodded, his eyes softening as his body flushed with a sudden surge of nerves. He didn’t trust his voice for a moment, but the warmth of Yuuri’s gaze was enough. The room felt charged, intimate.

Then, before Wolfram could even process what was happening, Yuuri gently tucked a rose into his hair. His touch was almost shy, and the way his cheeks flushed made Wolfram’s heart skip a beat.

"Then we’ll keep them," Yuuri said, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Though he tried to sound confident, Wolfram could hear the hint of vulnerability behind the words.

Wolfram shakily settled onto the bed, his body sinking into the softness of the blankets. They were more plush than usual, the silken sheets inviting, and the bed was surrounded by an array of cushions. Candles flickered, casting a warm glow that bathed the room in a romantic haze. His heart raced, and a blush crept up his neck as his eyes swept around the room. He knew what was expected of them tonight. The air felt thick with anticipation.

"Wolfram," Yuuri's voice was gentle as he moved to sit beside him, his hand reaching out to clasp the Omega’s. His touch was warm, comforting, grounding. "Wolfram. We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. We can wait until you feel ready."

The warmth of Yuuri’s words spread through Wolfram’s chest, a mixture of relief and affection. His green eyes widened, vulnerable and uncertain.

"But… the examination," he whispered, biting his lip. "Gisela is supposed to inspect me tomorrow... in front of all the nobles." He winced, the thought of it leaving a sour taste in his mouth. The idea of being scrutinized like that, even behind a white sheet, made his stomach churn.

Yuuri’s gaze softened, but there was an edge of protectiveness in his tone. "I’m the Moah. I can order them to postpone it," he said coolly, though Wolfram could see the flicker of concern in his black eyes.

Wolfram sighed softly, leaning against Yuuri’s solid frame, his head resting on his shoulder. His lips curled into a small frown, his voice barely a whisper. "That would go over so well with the nobles…"

Yuuri’s shoulders tensed, and he grimaced. "I’ve already got a headache from thinking about it." He gently laced their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly.

Wolfram bit his bottom lip, his voice barely audible as he spoke his truth. "Truthfully, I don’t mind, Yuuri. As long as it’s you, I’m not...um, I’m not afraid." His heart beat faster, unsure but sincere.

Yuuri’s eyes softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against Wolfram’s lips. "You... you want to do it tonight?" He asked carefully, wanting to be sure, his voice laced with tenderness.

Wolfram nodded, the blush on his cheeks deepening as his heart hammered in his chest. "Y-Yeah." His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the sincerity in his gaze was undeniable.

Yuuri smiled gently, his hand softly brushing Wolfram's pink cheek. "We’ll go slow," he whispered. "And if you want to stop, we will. No pressure. I’m here for you, always."

Wolfram’s heart fluttered, and his lips curved into a shy smile. He looked up at his Alpha-his husband-and in that moment, all of his fears seemed to fade. He loved Yuuri. He trusted him completely. Yuuri was his everything. And in Yuuri's arms, he felt safe. He felt Cecilieshed. The Omega leaned in, closing his eyes, and allowed Yuuri to kiss him. The kiss was soft, a tender meeting of lips, as Yuuri’s hand gently cupped his cheek, his thumb caressing the delicate skin.

Yuuri’s fingers slid into Wolfram’s golden hair, his touch gentle but possessive, as he deepened the kiss. Wolfram’s breath hitched in his throat, and for a moment, all that existed was the feeling of Yuuri's warmth, the softness of his lips, and the sense of being loved beyond measure.

Yuuri shifted on his knees, moving to kneel beside him on the bed. He guided Wolfram back onto the plush quilts, his lips parting from Wolfram’s for a moment. He gazed down at him, a soft smile curving his lips.

"You’re so beautiful," Yuuri murmured, his voice thick with admiration. The words made Wolfram’s chest tighten, and he instinctively leaned into Yuuri’s touch, his heart swelling with affection. He had never felt more treasured, more loved, than in that moment.

Wolfram’s smile widened, and he let out a soft, contented sigh, allowing himself to melt into Yuuri’s embrace. He knew that with Yuuri by his side, no matter what came next, he would always be safe, always be loved.

~#~

The soft glow of dawn filtered gently through the cracks in the heavy black curtains, casting a muted light into the room, but the warmth of their intertwined bodies was all Yuuri needed to wake. His gaze fluttered open, the peaceful quiet of the morning wrapping around him like a cocoon. His first instinct was to hold Wolfram closer, his body already yearning for the comforting presence of his husband. The soft rise and fall of Wolfram's chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, soothed Yuuri’s racing thoughts.

The bed felt impossibly cozy—wrapped in the royal black quilts that seemed to mirror the darkness of the night before. They were naked, skin pressed together in a tangle of limbs and warmth, the intimacy between them more real than ever. Yuuri’s fingers gently traced over Wolfram's golden curls, the soft strands slipping between his fingers like silk. His heart swelled with something tender, possessive, and infinitely loving.

The night had been unforgettable—passionate and tender in equal measure. Wolfram had been soft in his arms, beautiful and trembling, but trusting. He had given himself to Yuuri in a way that was so raw, so intimate, that Yuuri had felt their bond deepen in every way. They were no longer just partners, but mates. The mark that connected them—black and permanent—burned across Yuuri's hand, an intricate and undeniable symbol of their forever. He brushed his fingers lightly over the marking, the warmth of the ink still fresh against his skin. It connected him to Wolfram, like a promise that no distance, no time, no force could ever break.

Yuuri’s heart fluttered as he gazed down at the marking, his mind spinning with the reality of what it meant. He looked at Wolfram’s peaceful face, the soft curve of his lips, the way his golden hair spread like a halo across the pillow. For the first time in a long time, Wolfram slept soundly—no nightmares, no restless tossing or turning. There was nothing but calm, nothing but the gentle sound of his steady breath.

It made Yuuri’s heart ache with gratitude. Wolfram had suffered so much—his past had been filled with shadows, with torment and fear. But here, in Yuuri’s arms, he had found peace. Wolfram’s eyes were closed, his face serene, no signs of the nightmares that used to haunt him. No whimpers, no sobs. Just the quiet beauty of a man who had found safety and love.

Yuuri could hardly believe it, but in the tender moments of their union last night, something shifted. Wolfram had opened himself up completely, body and soul. And in doing so, Yuuri knew that he had given Wolfram a new kind of peace—one that had eluded him for so long. The bond between them wasn’t just physical; it was emotional, spiritual, and everlasting. It was in the way Wolfram nestled into his chest now, breathing in sync with him. It was in the way he had whispered "I love you" in the quiet moments before they fell asleep, a confession that had taken Wolfram so long to say, but now felt as natural as breathing.

Yuuri pressed a soft kiss to the top of Wolfram’s head, his lips lingering there for a moment, feeling the softness of the golden strands against his skin. He let out a quiet sigh, a feeling of contentment washing over him. They were truly bound together now. No matter what came next, no matter the battles they would face or the obstacles in their way, they had each other. The bond was unbreakable.

He stayed there for a long while, just holding Wolfram, watching him sleep. His heart swelled with so much love that it felt like it might burst. There was something indescribably beautiful about seeing Wolfram so at ease. The man who had once been so full of doubt and fear now lay in his arms, utterly safe and loved.

As the morning light crept in, Yuuri’s thumb traced the curve of Wolfram’s ear, then down his neck, over the faint marks of their union, as if to reassure himself that it had all been real. The night had been a turning point for both of them—an acknowledgment of their connection, of their love, and of the life they would build together.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against Wolfram’s forehead, a soft, tender kiss. "Good morning," Yuuri whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you."

Wolfram stirred slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. Yuuri smiled down at him, the world outside their little bubble fading away. There was no rush, no need to move. Just the two of them, wrapped in love and peace.

Yuuri smiled down at Wolfram, his heart swelling with a quiet tenderness as he gazed at the beautiful Omega in his arms. His eyes drifted to the mark on Wolfram’s neck—their mark—the claiming bite that symbolized their bond. The mark was a testament to their union, a physical connection that tied them together for eternity. It was a fierce, possessive symbol of Yuuri's love for Wolfram, and Yuuri’s lips curved into a soft smile as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the spot, his breath warm against Wolfram’s skin.

The touch seemed to rouse Wolfram from his peaceful slumber. His long, dark lashes fluttered like delicate wings, his emerald eyes slowly opening, their vibrant colour deepening as they locked onto Yuuri’s. For a brief moment, there was a look of quiet confusion, as though the events of the previous night were slowly coming back to him. His eyes widened in realization, his heart giving a little jolt as the memories of their union rushed to the forefront of his mind.

Yuuri, unable to resist, bit down on his bottom lip, trying—and failing—not to laugh at the surprise that flashed across Wolfram’s face. The Omega’s gaze softened as he began to process everything, the tension leaving his shoulders as his memories settled into place. It was as if everything clicked in an instant: the night they’d shared, the bond they had formed, and the love that had bloomed between them.

Wolfram blinked slowly, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he relaxed into the moment.

Yuuri whispered, his voice low and warm, "Good morning."

Wolfram swallowed softly, a delicate flush spreading across his cheeks as he whispered back, "Good morning."

Yuuri’s hand slid gently up Wolfram’s pale, smooth skin, tracing the curve of his arm and the sculpted lines of his shoulder. He couldn't help but feel the tenderness in the touch, the warmth of their bond growing stronger with each passing second.

His voice softened with concern as he asked, "Are you alright? Are you sore, or in pain?"

Wolfram hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow as he shifted beneath the quilts. He winced slightly but smiled up at Yuuri, the flush deepening on his face as he confessed, "I’m a little sore… from last night but I’ll be fine."

The answer made Yuuri’s heart ache with both concern and love, and before he could stop himself, he pulled Wolfram into a tight hug, holding him close. "I’m sorry, Wolf," Yuuri murmured into his hair. "I should’ve been more careful."

Wolfram shifted, pressing his forehead to Yuuri’s chest, a small, contented sigh escaping him. "It’s not your fault, Yuuri. I wanted this… with you."

Yuuri pulled back slightly, looking down at Wolfram with a smile that was both protective and filled with affection. He ran a hand gently through Wolfram's golden hair before suggesting, "How about we have a bath together? A warm soak might help you feel better."

Wolfram’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red at the suggestion, and he looked away shyly.

"I… I suppose that sounds nice," he murmured, though the hint of embarrassment was clear in his voice but before Wolfram could even attempt to move, his legs buckled beneath him.

He gasped softly, his body still not quite adjusted to the intensity of last night’s events. His muscles protested as they tried to lift him, and Yuuri’s eyes widened with concern. Without a second thought, he jumped to his feet, swooping Wolfram up into his arms with ease, cradling him bridal-style against his chest.

Wolfram’s eyes went wide with surprise as he was swept off the bed, and he yelped, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Yuuri!" he gasped, the suddenness of the movement catching him off guard. "What are you?!"

Yuuri grinned mischievously, his wolfish smile spreading across his face. "You didn't think I’d let you struggle, did you?" he teased, his voice filled with playful warmth. "I’m carrying you, Wolf. You’re not going anywhere until I say so."

Wolfram opened his mouth to protest but was too flustered to come up with anything that sounded reasonable. Instead, he simply clung to Yuuri, his arms wrapped around the Alpha’s neck as he buried his face in the crook of Yuuri’s shoulder, his heart racing from the shock of the sudden movement and the closeness of the man who had just become his everything.

Yuuri chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of affection as he carried Wolfram toward the bath. "Don’t worry, Wolf. I’ve got you. We’ll take it slow, just relax and let me take care of you."

Wolfram gave a small, bashful nod, still feeling the heat in his cheeks, but he trusted Yuuri completely. In his arms, he felt both Cecilieshed and safe, and that was all he needed.

Yuuri gently carried Wolfram into the royal bathroom, the room attached to their private chamber. The bathroom was nothing short of lavish, with marble floors, intricate carvings decorating the walls, and an oversized bathtub that could easily fit both of them. But what truly caught Wolfram's attention was the abundance of bathing supplies, arranged neatly in baskets and stacked high on golden shelves. There were scented oils, soap wrapped in delicate silk, towels of the softest fabric, and even flower petals tucked into small sachets, all placed perfectly, almost as if prepared for royalty.

Wolfram’s eyes widened in surprise. "Yuuri, this... this is ridiculous, there are so many things here."

Yuuri chuckled softly, setting Wolfram gently on the edge of the massive bathtub. The hot steam began to fill the air as he turned the taps, the sound of water flowing mixing with the subtle fragrance of lavender and jasmine that seemed to linger in the air. He sat beside Wolfram, his warmth radiating as he glanced over at the abundance of bathing luxuries. "The maids must have added these for you," Yuuri said with a teasing smile, his voice soft.

Wolfram blinked, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Yuuri's smile grew wider, his eyes filled with affection as he leaned in closer. "You’re my Omega, Wolf. You just had your first time last night. These things—these oils and bath salts—they’re all meant to help relax your muscles. The maids thought you'd appreciate them."

Wolfram’s eyes scanned the rows of baskets and jars, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Oh." His voice was small as he took it all in, the realization settling in. The idea that everything in this room was meant to cater to his comfort made him feel both embarrassed and deeply Cecilieshed.

Yuuri smiled gently, running a hand through Wolfram's soft golden hair, his fingers brushing through the strands like a quiet caress. "I want you to feel comfortable, Wolf. I want you to know you’re not alone in this. If anything is bothering you, you just let me know."

Wolfram’s heart fluttered at the tenderness in Yuuri’s voice, but his thoughts shifted when Yuuri suddenly asked, "Can I wash your hair?"

Wolfram blinked, staring at Yuuri in surprise, his lips forming a small pout. "Why?" he asked, a little unsure.

Yuuri’s laughter was soft, warm, and filled with love. "Because I love you, and I’m your husband," he replied, his gaze intense and filled with adoration. "I want to take care of you."

Wolfram’s heart skipped a beat, his blush deepening. He had never been this vulnerable with someone before, and the way Yuuri spoke to him, with such reverence and care, made him feel both special and safe.

A shy smile appeared on his lips as he looked up at his Alpha. "Oh," he murmured softly, a quiet understanding settling between them. After a long moment, he hesitated before asking, "Can I wash your hair too?"

Yuuri’s smile softened into something even more tender, a warmth in his eyes that spoke of his deep affection. He cupped Wolfram's face gently, tilting his head so he could press a sweet, lingering kiss to Wolfram’s lips. His voice was barely a whisper when he pulled away. "Of course, Wolf."

Wolfram’s heart swelled, a mixture of joy and affection flooding through him. He nodded slowly, feeling a deep sense of peace in the way Yuuri looked at him, in the way he loved him.

As the steam from the hot water swirled around them, Yuuri and Wolfram sank into the large, deep bath, the warmth surrounding them both like a comforting embrace. The water, infused with the fragrant oils, felt like a gentle caress against their skin, helping to ease the tension from their bodies.

Yuuri turned and pulled Wolfram gently onto his lap, positioning him so they were both nestled together. Wolfram’s back rested against Yuuri's chest, the closeness making Wolfram’s heart race just a little. The heat from the water mixed with the warmth of Yuuri’s body, and for a moment, Wolfram felt like nothing else mattered.

Yuuri pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin of Wolfram’s shoulder, his lips lingering for a heartbeat longer. He could feel the faint tremor in Wolfram’s body, the way his muscles seemed tense despite the soothing warmth of the bath.

"Are you alright?" Yuuri’s voice was low, soft, his breath brushing against Wolfram's ear as he spoke.

Wolfram took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his emotions. He was still nervous, but there was something about being in Yuuri’s arms, being so close to him, that calmed his racing thoughts, just a little. He nodded, but his words came out in a quiet murmur.

"I’m… I’m nervous."

Yuuri’s hand gently squeezed Wolfram’s, his thumb rubbing the back of his hand in slow, soothing circles. He understood, the upcoming inspection was looming over them like a dark cloud, and Wolfram was about to face something very private in front of people who likely did not approve of their marriage.

"About the inspection?" Yuuri asked, his voice gentle but filled with concern. He could feel the unease radiating from Wolfram, and he wanted to make sure his Omega knew that he wouldn’t be alone in this.

Wolfram swallowed; his throat dry as he nodded. "Gisela is due to come in about an hour. The nobles will be watching… And I’ll be checked to see if we’ve fulfilled the marriage. It’s all… it’s all so public."

He bit his lip, his fingers tightening around Yuuri’s hand. He shuddered slightly at the thought of the nobles standing there, their gazes on him, judging him, even though he’d be hidden behind a curtain for privacy. The knowledge that they’d still be so close by made him feel vulnerable.

Yuuri’s grip on Wolfram tightened, pulling him even closer as he pressed his chest against Wolfram’s back.

"I won’t leave you alone, Wolf," Yuuri said firmly, his voice full of promise. He pressed his lips to the back of Wolfram’s neck, just below the tender mark he had left there the night before, the mark that bound them. "I’ll be there with you, every step of the way."

Wolfram’s breath caught at the sincerity in Yuuri’s words. He turned his head slightly, looking at Yuuri with wide, emerald eyes, and despite the nervous flutter in his stomach, a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I know," he whispered softly, nuzzling into Yuuri’s embrace as he felt the warmth of his husband's hands, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against his back. "But I’m still nervous."

Yuuri nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "That’s normal," he said, his voice soothing. "But you know no one will hurt you, right? I’ll make sure of that. No matter what." His words were unwavering, the truth in them clear as he gently kissed the side of Wolfram's neck.

Wolfram let out a soft, shaky breath, leaning further into Yuuri’s embrace. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the water, the warmth of Yuuri, and the promises in his voice wash over him.

"I trust you," Wolfram murmured, the words slipping from him before he could stop them. "I just… I just want it to be over."

Yuuri placed a tender kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back gently. "It will be," he whispered. "Soon, this will all be behind us and we’ll be together, like we were meant to be."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sounds the soft lapping of the water and the rhythmic beat of their hearts. Wolfram could feel his nerves start to settle, the overwhelming anxiety still there but dulled by Yuuri’s warmth and the quiet assurance that his Alpha wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around Wolfram’s waist, pressing their bodies closer together as the steam from the bath enveloped them. He nuzzled Wolfram’s hair, inhaling the soft scent of the oils as he spoke once more, his voice filled with tenderness.

"We’ll get through this together, Wolf. Just you and me, nothing else matters."

Wolfram nodded again, his breath a little steadier now. He leaned back into Yuuri’s chest, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to relax fully, knowing that no matter what, Yuuri would be there with him and that made all the difference.

As the warm water swirled around them, Yuuri’s hands gently worked through Wolfram’s golden hair, his fingers massaging the shampoo into a soft lather. The motion was slow, tender, as if each stroke of his hand was an unspoken promise, a reaffirmation of his love. Wolfram leaned back into Yuuri’s chest, his eyes closing in contentment. He’d always been sensitive about his hair, his curls were so thick and wild, and it often took extra care to keep them looking neat. But with Yuuri, everything felt effortless.

Yuuri’s soft chuckles filled the space as he took extra time to be gentle with Wolfram’s hair, making sure each strand was clean and cared for. Wolfram let out a little hum of appreciation, his fingers idly brushing the edge of Yuuri’s hand, a quiet reminder that this was their moment.

“Your hair’s so soft, Wolf,” Yuuri said with a teasing smile, rubbing his fingers through the thick golden locks. “I could do this all day.”

Wolfram chuckled lightly, his cheeks turning a faint pink. “It’s just hair, Yuuri,” he said, though the smile on his face said otherwise. He shifted slightly, running his hands through Yuuri’s own hair. “Your hair’s pretty soft too, you know.”

Yuuri turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? So, are you saying you want to return the favour?”

Wolfram blushed, though his lips curved into a playful smile. “Maybe I do.”

And with that, he carefully began to massage the shampoo into Yuuri’s hair, his fingers brushing through the strands with gentle strokes. The task was easy, and the simple act of taking care of each other felt so intimate, so right. Yuuri closed his eyes and relaxed into Wolfram’s touch, feeling the tension from earlier slip away.

There was a warmth that settled between them, a tenderness that spoke more than words could ever express. When Wolfram was finished, he gently rinsed Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri did the same in return. The simple act of caring for each other felt like the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t about the inspection or the watchful eyes of the nobles, it was about the two of them, together, in this moment.

As the final droplets of water slid off their bodies, Yuuri helped Wolfram to his feet, his hands steady as he guided his Omega through the bath’s edge.

"How are you feeling now, Wolf? Better?" Yuuri asked, his eyes scanning Wolfram’s face carefully.

Wolfram gave a small nod, though he still looked a little shaky on his legs. “A bit better,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I can stand on my own now. Don’t worry.”

 He tried to push himself up a little straighter, but Yuuri noticed the way Wolfram’s legs wobbled slightly. Yuuri’s eyes softened with concern. He quickly reached out, ready to catch Wolfram if he stumbled.

"You sure? You know I’ve got you." He moved swiftly, grabbing a huge, fluffy black towel, which he wrapped around Wolfram’s body with a careful hand, rubbing it softly into his damp hair. Wolfram laughed softly at the attention, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

"I can dry myself, Yuuri," Wolfram said, though his voice was full of amusement. He pulled away slightly, holding the towel around his waist and stepping back with a smile. “You’re too much.”

Yuuri beamed, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "But I like doing it," he teased, his tone light-hearted. "Plus, you make the cutest expressions when you get flustered."

Wolfram snorted, shaking his head. "I don’t get flustered."

But the mischievous gleam in his eyes gave him away. He reached up and held the towel with one hand, while the other found Yuuri’s, gently taking hold of it. "But… fine, if you insist."

Yuuri grinned. "It’s not a question of insistence. It’s a matter of pride." He grabbed another black towel for himself, tying it around his waist before following Wolfram out of the bath and into the royal chambers.

The freshly made bed caught Wolfram’s eye, and he paused, humming in surprise. “The maids sure do work fast,” he remarked, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and faint amusement.

Yuuri sighed, rolling his eyes. "They’re like a dog with a bone," he muttered, glancing over at the spotless room. "Always sneaking in and cleaning up as soon as they know we’re not here."

Wolfram looked at the freshly changed bedding with a grimace. His face flushed a little, and he shifted uncomfortably. He knew exactly what they were doing. The sheets, the towels, everything would be inspected by the noble families. They wanted to ensure that the royal couple had “fulfilled” their marriage vows, and that was a level of scrutiny Wolfram had never been comfortable with. It was so invasive, so… embarrassing.

“They really go to extremes, don’t they?” Wolfram muttered, eyes flicking to the clean sheets. “It’s like they have no respect for privacy at all.”

Yuuri gave Wolfram a sympathetic glance as he walked over to the bed, gently pulling him closer. "It’s not right," he agreed softly. "But that’s just how things are here. They want proof, and they don’t care how uncomfortable it makes us."

Wolfram sighed, his shoulders slumping a little as he glanced at the bed once more. “I just want it to be over,” he whispered. "I hate feeling like… like we’re on display."

Yuuri tightened his grip around Wolfram, pulling him into a gentle hug. "I know," he murmured into his ear. "But just remember, we’re in this together, no matter what happens, we’ve got each other, and I’ll never let anyone hurt you."

Wolfram tightened his grip on the black towel, feeling the fabric bunch in his hands as he walked slowly over to the edge of the bed. He sat down, his posture a little more slouched than usual, exhaustion creeping in as his body finally allowed itself to relax after everything that had happened. His eyes felt heavy, and he couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. It had been such an emotional night, and the events of the day ahead weighed heavily on him. The inspection. The nobles. His nerves were still raw, despite Yuuri's calming presence.

As Yuuri made his way toward the walk-in closet, Wolfram watched him with tired eyes. The sound of the heavy closet doors creaking open echoed through the room. Yuuri paused for a moment, his hand resting on the edge of the doorframe, his gaze flicking toward the dark corners of the room, lost in thought.

For a moment, he was quiet, humming softly under his breath. He remembered the first few times Wolfram had hidden away in the closet, building his little nests, his quiet retreat from everything. It had always been something so endearing to Yuuri, finding Wolfram carefully arranging pillows and blankets, his face focused and serene, a little world of comfort that Wolfram made for himself.

Yuuri smiled, his mind wandering. He wondered if Wolfram would still do it now that they were mated, whether he'd seek that comfort in a nest when he went into heat. It was so incredibly sweet—Yuuri found it adorable, the way Wolfram instinctively sought that safe space, and he’d Cecilieshed those moments when he found him hidden away, working on his nest with such care and devotion.

Wolfram, sensing Yuuri’s gaze, peeked up, his emerald eyes meeting his husband's. "What is it?" he asked, his voice soft but curious.

Yuuri grinned, stepping into the closet and pulling open a few drawers, searching for his royal suit.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice light, “I was just thinking about the times I found you in there.”

Wolfram tilted his head, a slight frown forming on his face. "Oh… when I built my nest?"

Yuuri nodded, smiling brightly as he retrieved his clothes. “Yeah. It’s a shame you didn’t build your first nest here, in our chambers.”

Wolfram’s cheeks flushed a soft shade of red, and he glanced away, his fingers twisting nervously around the towel around his waist. "Well... I built my first nest in Mother’s room," he admitted quietly.

Yuuri's expression softened, but there was a hint of disappointment in his tone. “I know,” he said, clicking his tongue lightly, “I remember, they wouldn’t let me in.”

Wolfram winced; the memories of that day still tender. It had been a difficult time for him, full of insecurities and family tensions. His mother’s room had always felt like a sanctuary for him, the one place where he could feel truly safe, especially when his heart was aching…everyone wasn’t the nicest to him. There was a lot of tension due to him being an Omega and Wolfram’s body was still getting used to not being under drugs and the stones. Wolfram was still learning about his body, he had been a slave for most of his life at that point…but knowing that Yuuri had been shut out, left standing on the other side of the door, left a pang of guilt in Wolfram’s chest.

"I'm sorry," Wolfram said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, though he wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for the nest or the distance between Yuuri and him back then.

Yuuri stopped in his tracks and turned around, his expression softening as he looked at Wolfram. "You don’t need to apologize, Wolf," he said, his voice gentle. "I understand. You were still figuring things out, and your nest, it was important to you. Just like it is now."

Wolfram bit his lip, unsure how to respond. He had built the nest in secret, in the privacy of his mother’s room, as if it was something he had to hide from the world, but Yuuri didn’t see it that way. To him, Wolfram’s need for comfort, his way of seeking out safety, was nothing to be ashamed of. It made him love Wolfram even more.

Yuuri stepped back into the room, now fully dressed in his black royal suit, his movements fluid as he approached the bed.

"You know," he said with a small grin, "I’m really glad we’re together now and I want to be here for everything. For all the little things you need, like your nest… or anything else."

Wolfram’s heart skipped a beat, his chest feeling warm as he looked up at Yuuri. The depth of his husband's love was undeniable, and it left him feeling both Cecilieshed and safe.

Yuuri sat beside him on the bed, his arm slipping around Wolfram’s shoulders, pulling him gently into his side. “You don’t have to hide anymore. You don’t have to be alone in things like this.”

Wolfram leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes. His fingers gently pressed against Yuuri’s chest, seeking the comfort of his heartbeat.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice steady but soft. “I guess… I guess I’m still learning to trust that, to trust us.”

Yuuri kissed the top of Wolfram’s head, his lips warm and reassuring. “Take your time, Wolf. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Yuuri stepped back from Wolfram, pulling on his royal clothes with quick, practiced movements. He glanced at his husband, still sitting on the bed, his fingers nervously twisting the black towel around his waist. "You're not going to change?" Yuuri asked, though he already had an inkling of what Wolfram would say.

Wolfram shrugged, his expression tired and resigned. "There's no point right now," he said, his voice quiet. "Gisela will be here soon, and I’ll have to change into the inspection robe anyway. No sense in getting dressed again just to change again."

Yuuri hummed in understanding, nodding. He finished buttoning his shirt and quickly adjusted his jacket, his movements a little more rushed than usual as he tried to shake off the tension building in the air. Before he could think much more about it, there was a knock at the door.

Without thinking, Yuuri crossed the room in long strides, opening the door just a crack. He found Gisela standing there, her green hair pulled back neatly, her hands holding a set of freshly folded robes.

"Good morning, Heika," Gisela greeted with a polite bow of her head, her voice respectful, but her eyes soft with an understanding Wolfram had come to appreciate.

Yuuri’s lips twitched at the formal title, as they always did, but he bit back the urge to tell her to just call him "Yuuri." He could never quite get used to the title, no matter how many times he heard it. Instead, he nodded in return, keeping his tone neutral.

"Good morning, Gisela."

She held out the robes, her face serious yet empathetic. "Please ensure the Joō changes into these," she said, her eyes flickering briefly to the floor, and Yuuri’s gaze followed hers, noticing the softness of her expression.

Yuuri’s eyes darkened slightly as he accepted the robes, his fingers brushing against the smooth fabric. He could tell right away that they weren’t meant for omegas, not the way Wolfram usually felt most comfortable. The thought made his stomach tighten, but he kept his expression neutral as he turned to Gisela.

"Thank you, Gisela," he said, his voice quiet.

Gisela nodded, and for a brief moment, her gaze lingered on him. She clearly disagreed with the inspection, her discomfort thick.

"I will wait outside while he changes. The head of the nobles will be arriving in ten minutes," she added quietly, almost as if apologizing in advance for what was about to unfold.

Yuuri pressed his lips together, suppressing a sigh. He simply nodded in acknowledgment before closing the door gently behind him. Turning to Wolfram, he moved quickly toward the bed, where his husband was staring at the robes with a mixture of resignation and anxiety. Yuuri could feel the tension radiating from him.

Wolfram chewed on the side of his cheek, clearly agitated by the situation. His eyes shifted between the robe and Yuuri, and his voice was barely above a whisper.

"This isn’t fabric for omegas," he said, a note of frustration creeping into his tone. It’ll make him itch, give him red rashes, Wolfram will be uncomfortable in them.

Yuuri leaned down, placing a gentle hand on Wolfram’s shoulder. "You’ll only have to wear it for an hour," he whispered, trying to soothe him. "As soon as the inspection is over, you can take it off, I promise."

Wolfram gave a small, resigned nod. He stood up, his knees buckling slightly under him, his heart starting to race. The time had come. The tension in the air was thick, and no matter how much Yuuri wanted to comfort him, there was nothing either of them could do to make the situation any less uncomfortable.

Yuuri helped Wolfram slip into the robe, his fingers gentle as he adjusted the fabric, but it felt wrong. It was too much like a hospital gown from Earth, loose, white, and pink, stopping just at Wolfram’s knees. It wasn’t the kind of garment Wolfram should have been forced to wear. Yuuri bit his lip, wishing he could do more to change the situation.

Once Wolfram was dressed, Yuuri squeezed his hand gently, his voice soft. "Are you ready?"

Wolfram chewed on his bottom lip, his gaze distant, but he gave a weak nod, his eyes flickering to Yuuri’s face.

"I think so," he said quietly, though the anxiety was clear in his voice.

Yuuri leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Wolfram’s forehead, feeling the warmth of his husband’s skin beneath his lips. He pulled back, his eyes full of love and quiet support.

"You’re stronger than you know."

With one last squeeze of Wolfram’s hand, Yuuri walked to the door, opening it to let Gisela in.

"He’s ready," Yuuri said softly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling in his chest.

Gisela entered quietly, her gaze softening as she looked at Wolfram. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice low but sincere.

Wolfram swallowed, shaking his head. "It’s not your fault," he replied, his voice faint, but his words holding a quiet strength.

"I know you argued against it... but if it means anything, I’m glad it’s you, Gisela, and not someone else."

Gisela’s eyes widened, her expression softening even more. "I would never allow anyone else to do this procedure, Wolfram," she said, her tone firm and filled with quiet conviction.

Yuuri shifted slightly, his eyes meeting Gisela’s. "Neither would I," he added quietly, his voice resolute, as if he could sense the sincerity in Gisela’s words.

Wolfram glanced between the two of them, a small, weak smile pulling at his lips. He nodded slowly, his heart feeling a little lighter knowing that both of them cared for him, even in such an uncomfortable and difficult moment.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with quiet gratitude.

~#~

The morning light filtered softly through the grand windows of the dining room, casting a warm, golden glow over everything it touched. The table was set with exquisite care, each dish carefully arranged to suit the delicate needs of an Omega. The aroma of freshly prepared food filled the air—fragrant, sweet, and savory—but despite the enticing scents, Wolfram felt an odd heaviness settle in his chest. His body, once familiar and in tune with his every movement, now felt foreign, like he was wearing someone else’s skin. His limbs felt sluggish, his pulse a little too rapid, a fluttering unease threading through him like a quiet storm.

It had been three months since the public declaration of his marriage, since Gilsea had announced, with a proud flourish, that the Alpha and Omega had mated. The noble families, with their eyes full of judgment, had witnessed the moment, marking his transition from an untouched Omega to something else entirely. Wolfram, now Yuuri’s official partner—wife, consort, and mate—felt the weight of the titles bearing down on him. It should have been something to celebrate, but all he felt was a quiet anxiety, a persistent knot twisting in his stomach.

Sitting beside Yuuri at the head of the table, the man who had once been so distant and mysterious now felt impossibly close, his presence both comforting and disconcerting. Yuuri was animated as ever, his face alight with a soft, genuine smile as he listened to their daughter, Greta. Her amber eyes sparkled with the excitement of a thousand stories, her words tumbling out in a colourful stream, painting vivid pictures of her day. She was full of life, full of joy, but Wolfram felt as though a veil of something intangible separated him from it all.

Wolfram poked at the food on his plate, moving the delicate omelet from side to side with his fork, trying to make it look like he had eaten something. He hadn’t. His stomach twisted at the thought of consuming anything, despite the food being prepared with perfect care to suit his sensitive Omega needs. The rich flavors seemed too much, too heavy, too overwhelming. It felt like the whole world was pressing in on him, as though he were being suffocated by his own role, by his own body, by his own place in this new life that felt both precious and suffocating at once.

Yuuri’s laughter broke through his fog of thoughts, soft and warm, as he responded to Greta’s enthusiastic chatter. His voice was a balm, soothing and familiar, yet it didn’t seem to quite reach Wolfram. The nervousness coiled tighter in his chest, a dull thrum that seemed to echo through his bones. His mind had raced through the night—circling, spinning, unsure—and now his body, weary from the restless hours, refused to cooperate. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in days, his thoughts too full, his heart too unsettled.

"Are you feeling alright?" Yuuri’s voice was suddenly close, concerned, the sound of it breaking through Wolfram’s haze like a distant lifeline.

Wolfram startled, blinking rapidly as he found Yuuri’s warm gaze on him, the concern in his eyes as evident as his affection. Yuuri’s hand was resting on the edge of his plate, inches from his own. It was the kind of casual touch that should have been comforting, but Wolfram’s pulse spiked with a nervous energy that he couldn’t explain.

He forced a smile, a thin thing, but it didn’t feel like enough. His throat tightened as he met Yuuri’s gaze, feeling the weight of his husband’s unwavering attention on him.

 “I’m fine,” he lied, his voice a little too strained. “Just tired.”

Yuuri didn’t seem convinced, his brow furrowing.

The room, once filled with the bright warmth of morning, seemed to close in around Wolfram as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He pushed his food around again, unable to bring himself to take a bite. His body was uncooperative, a weight pressing down on his chest, making every breath a little harder. It was as if he were drowning in the tension of the moment, the air thick with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

Yuuri’s voice broke through his haze again, this time a little sharper. “Wolfram, are you sure you’re okay? You look really pale.”

Wolfram’s lips twitched as he forced himself to sit up straighter, trying to hide the heaviness that was pulling at him. His heart was racing for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, and his mouth felt dry. He couldn’t afford to look weak, not now, not in front of everyone.

 “I’m fine,” he promised, his voice strained, but he didn’t look up, not wanting to meet Yuuri’s concerned gaze. “Really…”

Before Yuuri could say anything more, Wolfram’s mother, Cecilie, chimed in from down the table, her voice light and teasing. “Oh, Heika, you’re so protective over your Omega! It’s beautiful, really.”

Wolfram's face burned. It was always like this, his mother never seemed to know when to stop, especially when it came to him and Yuuri. She loved drawing attention to them, especially in front of his brothers, Conrad and Gwendal. It was so embarrassing.

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed red, and he chuckled nervously. “Well, Wolfram’s my mate, so I have to take care of him, don’t I?”

Cecilie beamed, her eyes sparkling with delight as she clasped her hands together. “Oh, I love love,” she gushed. “You two are just perfect.”

Wolfram sighed softly, glancing at his mother with a look that was part exasperation and part longing. She had no sense of subtlety, and today, of all days, it was making everything feel ten times more unbearable. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, and his brothers, of course they were sitting there, watching this spectacle, were too polite to even say a word, but they didn’t need to. They were as uncomfortable as he was.

Before he could retreat further into his thoughts, Gunter suddenly piped up, his voice full of excitement. “Oh, but speaking of beautiful things, I must tell you about the new ball we will be hosting soon!”

Yuuri blinked, his brow furrowing. “A ball? What ball?”

“Heika, you’ve forgotten already?” Cecilie gasped, placing a hand on her chest, feigning shock.

Yuuri frowned, his expression softening into confusion. “Didn’t we just have a ball last week?”

“We did, but this one is different. This one is to welcome spring.” Conrad chuckled, shaking his head.

Wolfram leaned back in his chair, the conversation swirling around him like a distant hum. His head felt heavy, his eyes half-lidded as he tried to focus, but everything felt slightly out of focus. He could feel the tightness in his stomach again, that gnawing sensation that had been building ever since the topic of the ball had come up.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting as he tilted his head. “We have too many balls for random things,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Too many balls?! Yuuri, you simply don’t understand!” Gunter gasped, his eyes wide, as if Yuuri had just committed a sacrilege. “This one is important! Even the human-allied countries will be attending!”

Yuuri blinked, his black eyes widening, the enormity of what Gunter was saying slowly dawning on him. “Wait… does that mean Small Shimaron is invited?”

“Yes, King Saralegui of Small Shimaron will be attending.” Conrad spoke calmly, as always, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

Wolfram’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Saralegui. He had never met the human king, but Yuuri had spoken of him often, too often for Wolfram’s liking. The way Yuuri talked about him, his words were always laced with fondness, a kind of admiration that made Wolfram feel… uneasy. His stomach twisted, a wave of something unpleasant rising inside him.

He unconsciously touched his stomach, his fingers curling gently into the fabric of his shirt as his head lowered tiredly. Yuuri continued to speak, his voice light, but Wolfram’s attention drifted, his mind a haze of jealousy and confusion. He couldn’t understand it—why did the mention of Saralegui make him feel like this? It was just a name, just a friend of Yuuri’s. But something inside him clenched tight, and his green eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t identify.

Yuuri’s voice was still reaching his ears, but now it was distant, muffled. He could hear the excitement in Yuuri’s tone as he spoke with Gunther about the upcoming ball, but all Wolfram could think about was the way Yuuri’s eyes lit up when he spoke about Saralegui. It was too much, too much. The room spun slightly, and Wolfram’s breath quickened.

He couldn’t wait for this breakfast to be over. He needed to get away, to hide. His body felt like it was betraying him, his emotions stirring like a storm that he didn’t know how to navigate. The conversation, the laughter, the ever-present joy, it all felt like it was too much, and Wolfram just needed to escape, to find a moment of solitude before he broke down completely.

Wolfram held himself together just long enough for breakfast to finally come to an end. His smile was strained, the kind of smile he had worn too many times to count, one that was barely there, a shield against the flood of emotions that churned beneath the surface. He stood beside his mother, Cecilie, her bubbly chatter never quite matching the storm inside him. Gwendal, ever the dutiful brother, was discussing new duties with Yuuri, outlining a large stack of paperwork that needed Yuuri’s attention. Wolfram nodded absently as he heard snippets of their conversation, his eyes fixed on the edge of the table, his thoughts distant.

He was trying, desperately, to keep himself together, but it was becoming harder with each passing moment. The feeling of being surrounded, the weight of his own thoughts, the pressure of being in the public eye, and the quiet ache in his chest from the mention of Saralegui all conspired to make him feel more and more like a stranger in his own life. His skin crawled, his chest tightened, and he couldn’t shake the sense that something inside him was wrong, like he was slipping away from himself.

Finally, Yuuri’s attention was drawn to the growing pile of paperwork, and Wolfram seized the opportunity. His heart pounded as he quickly pushed himself to his feet, trying not to draw attention to the way his legs felt unsteady. He offered a final strained smile to Greta, the only one to notice him leaving. Greta blinked after him before her attention was taken away by Anissina,

It wasn’t a grand departure, nothing dramatic, just a quiet slip away, unnoticed by everyone but his own heart, which was racing too loudly for his liking.

He weaved through the hallways with urgency, his thoughts frantic, his mind in a blur. The further he got from the dining room, the less he could control the tension bubbling in him, the growing need to hide. It wasn’t like him to feel this way, and yet… it was like nothing had ever really changed. He thought he was past all this—the years spent as a slave in the inn, the years spent waiting, hoping for something more. But here he was again, feeling like that scared, small Omega boy who had once been treated like property, only now, the pain was buried deeper, the weight heavier. He needed to get away. Needed space.

By the time he reached his and Yuuri’s chambers, the need to escape had become overwhelming, as if the very walls were pressing in on him. Without hesitation, he threw the door open and rushed inside. His steps were frantic as he headed straight for the bathroom, and in a matter of seconds, he was kneeling in front of the toilet, his body convulsing with the force of his stomach as it rejected everything in him. His throat burned with the effort, and tears stung his eyes, but there was no relief. His body betrayed him, and he couldn’t stop it.

He stayed there for what felt like an eternity, sniffling, hiccupping, and trembling. The world around him felt off-kilter, spinning, dizzying, the edges of reality blurring. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his head swam, feeling too heavy to hold up, he didn’t understand it. Why was this happening to him? He had never felt like this before, never so weak, so vulnerable. It felt like everything was falling apart, and he had no idea how to put it back together.

Finally, the room stopped spinning, and Wolfram forced himself to climb back onto shaky legs. His knees trembled as he made his way to the royal chamber, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him with every step. The maids had already been in to change the bed, and the room felt oddly empty without their presence, he didn’t care about the bed, though, he wasn’t interested in lying down, not yet.

Instead, Wolfram turned toward the walk-in closet, drawn to it by some unexplainable urge. He reached the door and closed it behind him, leaning against the cool wood, his breath shaky as he touched his stomach again, as if trying to comfort the strange, gnawing sensation that had settled there. He closed his eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, and felt the cool air fill his lungs, grounding him, if only for a moment.

It wasn’t until he had walked all the way to the back of the closet, nestled In the quietest corner, that he finally allowed himself to sit down. His legs stretched out in front of him, and his head rested back against the wall, his body finally still, if only for a moment. The closet smelled faintly of lavender and cedar, the scent a familiar comfort, but even so, Wolfram felt more alone than he ever had before. He closed his eyes again, allowing himself the briefest moment of respite, but even then, the unease lingered.

As he sat there in the silence, something strange happened. Memories flickered through his mind, memories of when he had built his first nest in a small, forgotten corner of the castle. It had been a habit that he couldn’t explain, a need to create something safe, something comforting, something that was his.

A nest was the instinct of every Omega, a way of finding solace when the world outside was too much to bear. But as he thought back to that time, Wolfram realized that it wasn’t just a habit, it was his way of protecting himself, a small act of rebellion against everything that had tried to break him.

Without thinking, his hands moved, gathering the discarded fabrics from the closet, shaping them into a small, haphazard nest. His body ached with a quiet exhaustion, but he continued to build, the soft fabric pulling together around him like a cocoon. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was something only for him, a moment of comfort, of quiet.

As he finished, Wolfram settled into the makeshift nest, his legs tucked beneath him, his arms wrapped around his knees. He closed his eyes again, letting the world outside blur into the background. For the first time in what felt like forever, Wolfram allowed himself to just be, to stop fighting the overwhelming chaos of his emotions.

The world outside could wait, for now, he needed this, this small, quiet space where he could breathe, where he could heal, even if just for a little while.

The closet was dim and quiet, blanketed in soft shadows and the faint scent of cedar and worn linen. Curled tightly in his makeshift nest, Wolfram whimpered softly, tucking himself in tighter as his body throbbed with an unnamed discomfort. He rubbed at his stomach, a pitiful sniffle escaping him as his cheek pressed into the soft bundle of robes he’d gathered beneath him. He didn’t know what was wrong, only that his limbs ached, his head was heavy, and a strange sickness swirled in his gut like a storm refusing to settle.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching as he tried to push the uneasy feeling away. Maybe if he just rested a little, everything would pass.

As his body finally gave in to the weight of exhaustion, his breathing slowed, and his tense muscles relaxed just enough to let him drift. The dark fabric of the closet cradled him like a secret, and he slipped into a shallow, uneasy sleep.

Time passed in a blur. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, minutes, hours, maybe more, but he was pulled gently from the haze of dreams by a soft, warm touch brushing against his cheek.

His lashes fluttered, and for a moment, he was confused. His vision was hazy, the light from outside the closet now dim and golden, flickering from the oil lamp Yuuri had set just outside the door. Slowly, his blurry gaze focused, and there was Yuuri, kneeling in front of him, his black eyes wide and gleaming with concern.

“Wolfram,” Yuuri murmured, voice low and tender, his hand cupping his cheek. “You’re not well… are you?”

Wolfram whimpered softly, trying to sit up, rubbing his bleary eyes with the heel of his palm. His voice was raspy and small. “No… I haven’t been feeling well all day.”

Yuuri’s brows furrowed as he leaned forward, gently brushing Wolfram’s dishevelled blonde hair back from his damp forehead. “I knew something was wrong. You looked pale this morning, but you just kept smiling like everything was fine…”

Wolfram swallowed, eyes glossy as he leaned forward and melted into Yuuri’s embrace. His head found its way to Yuuri’s shoulder, and he sighed, the comfort of his Alpha’s arms making his throat ache even more.

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” he whispered. “It didn’t feel… serious. I thought I could just wait it out.”

Yuuri shook his head softly, wrapping his arms tighter around Wolfram’s trembling form. “But I am your Alpha,” he said, his voice filled with quiet insistence. “It’s my job to worry about you, even if it’s something small, especially if it’s something small.”

Wolfram stayed silent for a moment, his lashes brushing Yuuri’s collar as he pressed his face into the warmth of his neck. Then, in a voice barely louder than a breath, he asked, “How… how did you know where I was?”

Yuuri let out a small, almost amused sigh as he pulled back slightly, looking into Wolfram’s flushed face. “When you didn’t show up at lunch, I was worried but when you didn’t come to dinner either, I knew you were sick. I asked the maids if they’d seen you, and when they said you hadn’t left the chamber since breakfast…”

He smiled gently. “I figured if you weren’t in bed, there was only one other place you’d go.”

Wolfram blinked sleepily up at him, touched and vaguely embarrassed, his lips parting just slightly in awe. “You… remembered?”

“I remember everything about you,” Yuuri said simply, and before Wolfram could say another word, Yuuri scooped him up with ease, lifting him into his arms.

Wolfram gasped softly, instinctively wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s neck as he was carried bridal-style out of the closet. He glanced toward the window as they passed—it was pitch dark outside. The moon hung high in the sky.

“Yuuri… it’s night already?” he asked, dazed.

Yuuri nodded, glancing down at him with a mixture of worry and affection. “You’ve been sleeping for hours. I didn’t want to wake you, but I couldn’t leave you in that little corner all night. I had dinner brought up. We can eat here, just the two of us.”

Gently, Yuuri laid Wolfram down on the bed, the plush sheets cool and fresh beneath him. He pulled the blanket up over his mate and climbed in beside him, lying on his side so they faced each other.

Wolfram curled instinctively toward him, still dizzy but grounded by Yuuri’s presence. Their legs brushed under the covers, and he felt Yuuri’s hand slip beneath the blanket to rest gently over his stomach.

Whatever had been bothering him, whatever had twisted inside his body like a knot, eased just a little at that touch, safe, warm.

Yuuri leaned in, brushing a kiss to his temple. “No more hiding, okay?”

“Okay.” Wolfram closed his eyes and nodded sleepily

And for the first time all day, the knot in his chest began to loosen.

~#~

The ballroom shimmered like a dream woven in crystal and candlelight.

Silken gowns swept over marble floors. Velvet coats brushed shoulders as nobles—both human and Mazoku—danced, laughed, and exchanged secrets in delicate voices laced with honeyed tones and veiled intent. Chandeliers sparkled like stars overhead, and the perfume of spring flowers mingled with wine, rich foods, and the soft scent of magic. The orchestra played a waltz so smooth it made the chandeliers seem to sway in rhythm, each note curling through the air like a ribbon.

Wolfram stood quietly, a lone figure in a storm of sound and scent. His nose twitched as the heavy mixture of perfumes, colognes, spiced drinks, and heated bodies washed over him. It was always like this during balls—overwhelming. The air was too sweet, too sharp, too much. His stomach twisted.

He shifted his weight, fidgeting slightly, eyes flickering across the crowded room. Near the grand fountain stood his mother, Cecilie, glowing like a goddess among mortals. She laughed, gesturing grandly with her wine glass, utterly at ease. Her black-and-white gown clung to her like silk poured over a sculpture, and her golden hair shimmered as if kissed by candlelight. Men and women alike leaned in to hear her speak, captivated by her charm.

Wolfram admired her from afar, chest tight with a longing he couldn’t quite name. She made everything seem so effortless. Confident. Beautiful. Free.

He wished, just for a moment, that he could be like that—unshaken by whispers, untouched by judgment. Maybe then, he wouldn’t feel so raw under all these eyes. He could feel the stares—the sharp ones, the curious ones, the ones dripping with quiet condemnation. The weight of it all made his shoulders stiffen.

He lowered his gaze, pretending to adjust his gloves. Anything to avoid meeting those eyes again.

Years ago, he might’ve fled—found a dark corner to hide in, curled in on himself like a ghost of the past. But he couldn’t do that anymore. Not now. Not when he was Wolfram von Bielefeld-Shibuya, consort to the Demon King. The Queen. The Joō.

And more than that… not when Yuuri was holding him.

A strong, familiar arm circled his waist, firm and grounding. Yuuri stood beside him, warm and solid, dressed in deep black and gold that brought out the glint in his dark eyes. Whenever they weren’t dancing, this was their unspoken stance—Yuuri’s arm wrapped around Wolfram like a vow made flesh, silently daring anyone to speak a word out of turn.

Wolfram leaned slightly into the embrace, whether out of affection or necessity, he didn’t know.

Yuuri wasn’t cruel. In fact, he was fiercely kind. His voice could be gentle or sharp as needed, a silver blade wrapped in silk. If anyone dared to sneer, to whisper, to glare, Yuuri’s smile would ice over, and his tongue would flick with the precision of a seasoned swordsman. He defended Wolfram without hesitation—but even so, the judgment still pressed down like fog.

And Wolfram... he was struggling.

He blinked slowly, his gaze falling to the polished floor. It swam faintly beneath him, colours and light twisting with a slow, nauseating lurch. His stomach tightened. That awful, familiar churning was back—the same sick twisting he’d felt just days ago. The one that had driven him into their closet, curled in a nest of fabrics, trembling and confused.

He thought it had passed. He hoped it had passed.

Yuuri had been so worried, so gentle. He'd brought him warm meals, stroked his hair as they lay in bed, and made Wolfram promise, swear, that he’d speak up if he felt sick again but how could he now? Not here, not now, not with half the kingdoms watching.

His throat tightened. He swallowed thickly, willing it all away—the sickness, the dizziness, the quiet panic bubbling just beneath his skin. His fingers curled at his sides; his jaw clenched tightly as he fought the waves rising inside him.

“I’m fine,” he whispered to himself, too softly for even Yuuri to hear.

Still, Yuuri shifted beside him, gaze dipping down to study his face. As if he could feel the tension radiating from his mate. As if his Alpha instincts were already stirring but Wolfram didn’t look up. he couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t fine and he was afraid that if he met Yuuri’s eyes, those warm, dark eyes that always saw too much, he might break apart right there on the ballroom floor.

The ballroom, once a dizzying swirl of light and sound, suddenly narrowed around Wolfram like the walls were leaning in. One moment, he was clutching Yuuri’s side, trying to breathe past the sweet rot of the air—then an unfamiliar voice sliced through the melody of strings and chatter, clear and confident.

“Heika.”

Wolfram blinked.

The scent hit him before the voice fully registered. Cloying. Sickeningly sweet. Overpowering, like someone had bathed in crushed petals and syruped perfume. His stomach roiled at the force of it—too floral, too artificial, too intentional. Like a Beta had drenched themselves in blossoms designed to catch the attention of an Alpha’s nose.

Yuuri’s arm tightened slightly at his waist. Wolfram leaned subtly into it, grateful.

“Saralegui,” Yuuri said, his voice suddenly soft, warm. “I told you to call me Yuuri.”

A low, melodic laugh rang out, bright and easy.

Wolfram turned slowly, lifting his eyes to see who had earned such a gentle tone from his Alpha.

And there he was.

Saralegui.

A man who looked like he’d stepped out of a painting, tall and refined, cloaked in soft silks the colour of moonlight and sunlight intertwined. His long golden hair was intricately braided, dotted with jewels that sparkled like dew and small flowers that shimmered under the candlelight. His golden eyes shone with a honeyed light, round and glowing with mischief or admiration, Wolfram couldn’t tell which.

He was beautiful, almost too beautiful.

Saralegui bowed gracefully before them, moving with fluid elegance that made the surrounding crowd hush slightly.

“Yuuri,” he said again, voice like spun gold. It wasn’t just familiarity—it was fondness. Like a secret only they shared.

Wolfram swallowed hard, stomach twisting tighter.

He stood still, quiet, watching the easy, affectionate way Saralegui spoke to his husband. There was sweetness in his tone, like warm sugar on the tongue, and it wrapped itself around Yuuri in a way that made Wolfram feel like a third wheel to something intimate.

Was he intruding?

No. Of course not.

But still, there it was. That awful, burning twist in his chest. A sensation he wasn’t used to, a thought he’d never dared entertain before, he stared at Saralegui with wide green eyes and felt that terrible, irrational urge to throw something—or shout. Something loud. Something possessive. His heart thundered, lips parting slightly, as if his body might betray him and scream out cheater before his brain could catch up.

But no words came.

Only silence.

He stood still, blinking, until the sound of his name pulled him out of the daze.

“Wolfram?”

Yuuri’s voice broke through the fog, warm and curious. Concerned.

Wolfram blinked rapidly, the world snapping back into place. His face flushed a vivid red as he looked up into Yuuri’s face, who was watching him with that tilted-head softness, brows just barely furrowed in concern.

“Wolfram,” Yuuri said again, a gentle smile on his lips, “this is my friend—King Saralegui of Small Shimaron.”

Friend.

The word didn’t help. If anything, it made something low and aching stir in Wolfram’s chest again.

Still, manners took over before pride could. He turned toward Saralegui, lowering his head in a stiff bow. “Ah. Wonderful to meet you, King Saralegui.”

His body moved automatically, out of habit and respect, even though he wasn’t supposed to bow to anyone anymore—not as the royal consort. Yuuri had told him many times, gently but firmly, You don’t bow anymore, Wolfram. You’re not beneath anyone.

But Yuuri didn’t seem to notice this time.

Because his dark eyes were still on Saralegui.

Wolfram’s heart thudded once, painfully.

Saralegui offered a small smile, tight and unreadable. His honey eyes slid over Wolfram slowly, and though the Beta’s tone remained polite, it carried a subtle chill, like the frost at the edge of spring.

“Yes. Joō of Shin Makoku,” he said, the title rolling off his tongue like an afterthought. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Wolfram didn’t miss the faint emphasis on heard, like a blade sheathed in silk.

And for the first time in a very long time, Wolfram felt small.

Wolfram’s stomach churned, part nerves, part nausea, and entirely miserable. The perfume-laced air seemed heavier now, coiling around his throat like invisible fingers. He shifted closer to Yuuri, almost instinctively, hoping the touch might anchor him, might calm the rising unease stirring in his chest but it didn’t. Not this time because Yuuri’s attention wasn’t on him. Yuuri was smiling, so warmly, so genuinely, at him, at Saralegui.

Their conversation floated above Wolfram’s head like smoke. Light laughter, soft voices, the kind exchanged between old friends… or something more. There was an unspoken intimacy in the way they stood, in the almost shy tilt of Yuuri’s head and the velvet smoothness in Saralegui’s every reply. Their words danced around shared memories, private jokes, and knowing glances.

Wolfram felt like a shadow standing between two beams of light. Like an outsider in his own story.

His emerald eyes flickered to the floor, unable to hold the golden glow of Saralegui’s gaze, unwilling to watch Yuuri’s face as he smiled like that, like that. He swallowed hard, the taste of bile bitter at the back of his throat, and suddenly the ornate ballroom felt too grand, too loud, too bright.

He wanted to run, again.

The familiar urge to flee clawed at his ribs, the same way it used to when the world felt too heavy on his shoulders. The same way it had when he was a newly named prince, hiding in corners behind flower arrangements at grand events just like this. Except now, he wasn’t a lost boy. He was Yuuri’s consort, he was the Joō, he couldn’t run.

Yuuri’s arm rested warmly at his waist, but it no longer felt like a shield. It felt like a chain. Keeping him in place while he wilted beside two kings and then Saralegui turned to him.

“Wolfram,” he said.

Just his name, no honorific, no title. Just the word, spoken smoothly.

Wolfram lifted his head slowly, and the moment their eyes met, something beneath his skin went cold.

Saralegui’s tone wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t icy or sharp. If anything, it was perfectly pleasant. Polite. Kind, even but there was something else.

Something almost condescending.

It was the voice someone might use when humouring a child who doesn’t understand the conversation, or a pet performing a trick. Gentle, indulgent, but never equal. The Beta King’s golden eyes sparkled not with warmth, but amusement, like he already knew everything Wolfram was going to say and found it all terribly quaint.

Wolfram said nothing. He couldn’t, because something about Saralegui’s gaze froze the words in his throat. That charming, gleaming mask made of beauty and laughter, something was off, deeply off.

He turned his eyes toward Yuuri in silent plea, hoping for the usual frown of protectiveness, the sharp edge to Yuuri’s voice when someone crossed a line with his mate but Yuuri… was still smiling, naïve, warm and unaware.

As if he hadn’t heard the subtle shift in Saralegui’s tone at all. As if he didn’t see the small, precise tilt of Saralegui’s head, like a lion studying a curious little bird and Wolfram’s heart cracked just a little. Not because Yuuri wasn’t defending him, but because Yuuri didn’t even realize he needed to.

Wolfram looked down, hands tightening at his sides. His breath came in shallow pulls, his stomach roiling. Jealousy coiled with sickness, though he still didn’t recognize it as either. All he felt was small. Insignificant. Like he didn’t belong here at all and somewhere in his chest, a quiet, stubborn voice whispered:

Something’s wrong with that Beta.

Saralegui’s voice drifted over the music like silk laced with thorns. “May I steal Yuuri away for a dance?”

Wolfram barely had time to blink before Saralegui’s golden eyes flicked toward him, not with open disdain, but with something worse: dismissal. A subtle narrowing, a smile too polished, and a slight arch of his brow, as if silently suggesting, You’re in the way. Run along now, little Omega.

Wolfram’s spine straightened instinctively, fingers twitching at his sides. His first urge was to dig his claws into Yuuri’s sleeve and anchor him there, to refuse with the force of all the unspoken instincts that screamed this man wasn’t safe. That this Beta didn’t belong near his Alpha but before the words could form, Yuuri hesitated.

“Um... I don’t know…” he began, glancing between Wolfram and Saralegui. There was uncertainty in Yuuri’s eyes, the kind that tugged gently at Wolfram’s heart, but not enough to stop the inevitable.

Wolfram could see the moment Yuuri’s smile broke through.

“I promise I’ll be right back,” Yuuri said with that sunny grin, the one that melted hearts and disarmed even the sharpest of blades.

Wolfram stepped back, slowly, reluctantly, like a shadow shrinking from light, he nodded once, mutely and that was enough.

Saralegui’s grin stretched wider, too pleased, too eager. He slid his arm into Yuuri’s and practically pulled him toward the dance floor. It all happened too fast, Yuuri laughing at something Saralegui whispered, his voice caught up in the music.

Wolfram stood there for a beat longer than he should’ve, the scent of Saralegui’s overly floral cologne still lingering in his nose, heavy and artificial like a bouquet soaked in syrup. His shoulders sagged as the whispers began.

The moment Yuuri was out of reach, the eyes returned, sharp and cold, peeling him apart. Judgment wrapped itself around him like a second skin, itchy and unbearable. He rubbed at his temple, fighting the dizzy twist in his gut, and slowly began to make his way to the far corner of the ballroom, the place he always ran when it became too much.

Yuuri usually didn’t let him hide anymore, not after he noticed how often Wolfram escaped there, but this time... Yuuri wasn’t looking. His Alpha was dancing, smiling, laughing, held by another.

Wolfram sank into the shadows, barely noticing the way his body trembled as he leaned against the wall, he tried to steady his breath.

Yuuri married me. He’s mine.

The wedding band on his finger glinted under the candlelight, a soft, bitter reminder. The black soul mark binding them was a warning to others, a clear declaration that the King was claimed, but it didn’t seem to matter to him.

Wolfram’s eyes followed the pair on the dance floor, drawn like a moth to fire. Saralegui leaned in close, whispering again. Yuuri laughed, cheeks flushed in a way that twisted something inside Wolfram’s chest.

At least he’s not holding him by the waist, Wolfram thought, pathetically. But the look on Saralegui’s face, it was the look of someone who wanted something... and believed he could have it.

Wolfram’s hands moved unconsciously, pressing over his lower stomach. A deep sigh left him, slow and aching. That’s when he noticed the candle nearby, the flame flickering oddly, flaring suddenly as if caught in a gust of magic. Then, warmth bloomed beneath his palms, strange and unfamiliar.

It spread upward into his chest, a slow pulse of heat that made his breath hitch. He froze, body tense, heart racing. Just as quickly, cold flooded in to douse the warmth, like water forced into his veins, chasing away something it didn’t want to wake.

A hand landed on his shoulder and Wolfram jumped, the music and voices crashing back into his head all at once. He turned sharply, eyes wide and glossy with unshed emotion.

“Wolfram,” came the soft voice.

Conrad’s hand steadied him just in time.

“Wolfram?” came the soft, familiar voice, low, warm, filled with a kind of brotherly affection that made Wolfram’s throat tighten unexpectedly.

Wolfram blinked up, his vision swimming slightly. The glint of candlelight off Conrad’s suit left glowing trails in the corners of his eyes. His older brother’s face had shifted quickly from warmth to worry, his brow tightening, mouth pressing into a firm, unreadable line.

“I…” Wolfram began, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t even know what to say. That he felt like his insides were unravelling? That the air smelled too sweet, the floor too sharp, and his heart too full of something he didn’t know how to name?

“I just needed air,” he mumbled instead.

Conrad didn’t believe him, Wolfram could see it plainly in the way he leaned in, eyes narrowing, searching his face for the truth Wolfram wasn’t saying but he didn’t push, not yet.

Instead, he guided Wolfram down to sit on the cushioned bench along the far wall, mostly hidden by the long trailing curtains that fluttered slightly from the breeze seeping in through a cracked stained-glass window. The corner was dimmer here, muffling the ballroom’s golden glow. The music still played, sweeping strings and waltzing rhythm, but it sounded distant, like it belonged to another world.

“Yuuri?” Conrad asked gently, and that one name was all it took for Wolfram’s fragile composure to crack.

His lower lip trembled, and he lowered his head, hands instinctively curling around his stomach again.

“He’s dancing,” Wolfram whispered, ashamed of how small his voice sounded. “With, um, King Saralegui.”

Conrad followed his gaze across the room. Saralegui was laughing, gold and white jewels winking in his braided hair as Yuuri spun him with ease. Yuuri’s smile was bright—, o bright, it hurt.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Wolfram confessed quietly, after a long pause. “Sick, I know I shouldn’t be, I know Yuuri loves me. He married me, he wears my mark but...”

Conrad’s hand settled over Wolfram’s, grounding him.

“Feelings don’t always listen to reason,” he said, voice like a steadying anchor. “Jealousy doesn’t mean you don’t trust him, it means you love him, and something about this situation makes you feel unsafe.”

Wolfram nodded, even if his heart wasn’t convinced. “He didn’t even notice how Saralegui spoke to me, how he looked at me.”

“Yuuri is kind,” Conrad said, sighing. “Too kind, sometimes, he doesn’t always see through charm, but you did. And that’s important.”

Wolfram exhaled shakily, relief and fear blending inside him. His body still felt strange, tingly, warm, but cold too and that flicker from before... that heat under his hands...

“What if there’s something wrong with me?” he asked suddenly, the question leaving him before he could stop it.

Conrad frowned. “What do you mean?”

Wolfram swallowed. “Earlier, I thought the candle, just for a second, it responded to me, and I felt... this heat, here.”

He pressed a palm flat against his stomach. “Like something was waking up, then cold. Like it was being pushed back.”

Conrad’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful now. “That could be magic or... something else.”

“Do you think I’m sick?” Wolfram whispered, eyes wide with a tremble of fear. “Or…is it something to do with the bond?”

Conrad was quiet for a moment, and then, gently, he stood.

“I think,” he said, “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

He offered his hand, and Wolfram took it, as he stood, his knees still weak, he leaned slightly against his brother’s arm. Wolfram relaxed only a fraction, though his head was pounding now, and his limbs felt too light, as if he might float away or fall apart.

He stared up at Conrad, barely able to speak, and for a moment he saw how quickly his brother’s expression changed, from calm to concerned, from a smile to something much heavier.

“I…I don’t feel right,” Wolfram whispered, the words trembling out of him like a confession.

The ballroom lights began to blur, shimmering like watercolours bleeding across a page. Wolfram swayed where he stood, a hand pressing instinctively to his temple as the edges of the room spun faster, faster, until it felt like the whole world was tilting.

His breath hitched, a relentless ringing clawed its way through his skull, pounding behind his eyes like a warning bell that wouldn’t stop.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Just for a moment. Just a second but it didn’t help.

"I–I don't feel so good…" he whimpered, voice barely audible as he leaned heavily against Conrad.

"Wolfram?" Conrad’s voice was gentle but urgent, his hands tightening around his younger brother's shoulders. "Wolfram, look at me, open your eyes."

But Wolfram couldn’t, his vision was a smear of colour, and all he could feel was the twisting knot in his stomach, the nausea threatening to claw its way out of him. He parted his lips to say something, anything, but all that came out was a soft, strangled sound.

His skin drained of colour in an instant, going paler than Conrad had ever seen. Deathly pale, his knees buckled.

“Wolfram!”

Conrad caught him just in time, one strong arm wrapping around Wolfram’s waist as the other reached behind his shoulders. Wolfram sagged into him like a puppet with its strings cut, his golden hair falling into his eyes, mouth parted in a weak gasp.

He tried to say something again, something about being sick, something about the pain, but the words never fully formed and then, his body went limp.

The crowd hadn’t noticed, not yet but the music faltered, just slightly, as the Moah suddenly stopped mid-step on the dance floor. Yuuri blinked, confused, his hand still clasped in Saralegui’s.

Saralegui cocked his head with a smile too polished to be real. “Is something the matter, Your Majesty?”

Yuuri didn’t answer at first. A strange heaviness was pressing into his chest, a feeling he didn’t understand, but it whispered that something was off. He looked around the ballroom, scanning the faces, the corners, searching for his Omega.

Where was Wolfram?

His Omega, his partner, his heart and Yuuri’s breath caught. He couldn’t see him and that’s when he felt it. Not through sight, but something deeper, tugging at the bond that lived in his bones, in his blood. It was faint, but it was there. Something pulling, calling.

Wolfram needed him.

Yuuri didn’t hesitate, he let go of Saralegui’s hand without a word, his smile already long forgotten as his boots echoed sharply across the marble floor.

Conrad, kneeling, holding a limp body in his arms.

“Wolfram!”

Yuuri broke into a run, he didn’t care about the eyes turning toward him or the gasps rippling through the ballroom. All he could see was his mate, ashen, unmoving, his beautiful green eyes fluttering weakly, lips trying to shape words he no longer had the strength to speak.

Yuuri dropped to his knees beside them, grabbing Wolfram’s hand. It was ice cold.

“Wolfram. Wolfram, I’m here. Look at me. Please.”

Conrad looked up at him, eyes wide and grave. “He collapsed, he said he didn’t feel right. Yuuri, something’s wrong.”

Yuuri’s heart hammered in his chest, the ache sharp and terrifying. The bond between them flickered like a dying flame.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, brushing back Wolfram’s hair with shaking fingers. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

But inside, Yuuri felt the first stirrings of fear, not the fear of war, or politics, or even being king. No, this was something else entirely.

He was afraid of losing him.

“We need to get him to Gisela.”

~#~

A soft, broken whimper slipped past Wolfram’s lips as he stirred beneath the covers. His lashes fluttered, brushing against his pale cheeks, heavy as if weighed down by sleep or sorrow. His limbs felt distant, as if his soul had drifted far away and was only now finding its way back to his body. Everything ached—his head throbbed dully, and there was a strange numbness in his chest, like he’d been carved hollow.

The world was quiet, cloaked in a hushed stillness, broken only by the sound of a candle flickering somewhere nearby.

A warm hand touched his face. Gentle. Familiar. Fingers glided across his cheek, brushing golden hair back from his clammy forehead. The tenderness of it stirred something soft and safe inside him. No fear. That told him enough.

“…Yuuri?” he breathed, the name cracking in his throat like dry parchment. His voice was barely more than a breath, brittle and shaking.

There was a sound—a sharp sniff, followed by a warm pressure closing around his hand. Yuuri.

“Oh, Wolfe…” Yuuri's voice trembled as he leaned closer, dark eyes glistening. “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

Wolfram swallowed, tongue dry, and closed his eyes for a moment to find the words. When he opened them again, his blurred vision slowly sharpened. They were in the royal chamber. The heavy curtains were drawn, the room lit only by a single candle that glowed behind Yuuri, casting soft golden light around his shoulders like a halo. Yuuri hadn’t changed—he was still dressed in his formal uniform, his crown discarded somewhere behind him. Wolfram, however, had been changed into the delicate pink and white nightgown that Miko had lovingly given him long ago. It smelled like rosewater and home.

“I’m… not okay,” Wolfram murmured at last, voice low and shaky.

Yuuri’s hand tightened in his. His other hand continued its soothing path through Wolfram’s hair, carding through the silken strands with infinite care.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri whispered. “I left you alone when you needed me. I should’ve— I should’ve seen that something was wrong.”

Wolfram tilted his head slightly, resting into the touch. His body still felt too heavy, but Yuuri’s hand in his made it bearable. “It’s not your fault… I didn’t say anything. I promised I would and… I didn’t.”

Yuuri shook his head, eyes dark and glistening. He shifted closer on the chair beside their bed, his knee brushing the edge of the mattress. “I’m your Alpha, Wolfe. I should’ve known. I should’ve felt it.”

Wolfram’s throat tightened. He turned his face further into the pillow, eyes blinking fast against the sting of tears.

“Something was wrong with me,” he whispered. “But it wasn’t just… sickness. It was… different.”

Yuuri leaned in, concerned. “What do you mean? Wolfe, tell me.”

The words fought to stay buried, but Wolfram pushed past the knot in his throat. His lashes trembled, and his emerald eyes filled with tears that clung stubbornly to his lower lashes.

“I didn’t like how you left me to dance with King Saralegui,” he admitted, voice cracking again. “He… he looked at me like I didn’t belong. Like I was just in the way.”

Yuuri’s brows knit with worry, but he didn’t speak, he listened.

Wolfram’s fingers curled weakly in Yuuri’s. “He makes me feel nervous. He talks to me like I’m beneath him, like I’m just some silly little Omega who doesn’t matter. And when you left with him, even just for a dance… it felt like everyone else agreed. They all stared at me like they were waiting for you to finally toss me aside.”

The tears slipped free, one after another. Wolfram turned his head away, ashamed. “I was scared. I was so scared. I wanted to run away. Hide. And I… I was jealous. I didn’t know I could be jealous, but I was. I didn’t want you touching him. I didn’t want him anywhere near you.”

He blinked rapidly, voice wavering. “I didn’t like how I felt. It wasn’t me but it hurt, Yuuri. It hurt so much…”

Yuuri was quiet for a heartbeat, his thumb brushing Wolfram’s knuckles. Leaning forward, he cupped Wolfram’s face with both hands, gently wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. He pressed a kiss to Wolfram’s forehead first, then his cheek, then, softly, slowly, he kissed him on the lips, tender and warm and grounding.

Wolfram shivered and Yuuri pulled back only enough to rest his forehead against Wolfram’s. His voice was a soft vow in the candlelit hush.

“Oh, Wolfe… you don’t need to be jealous. You never have to feel like that. My heart, my soul, my whole being, it’s yours, only yours.”

He kissed him again, slower this time, letting it linger before pulling back to whisper, “No matter what happens. No matter who stands beside me. I’ll always return to you., I love you and only you.”

Wolfram blinked up at him, lips trembling with emotion, and for the first time that night, a soft smile flickered through his tears.

But the door creaked open, and the warmth of the moment shattered as Cecilie stepped in like a gust of cold air, with Gisela close behind.

“Your Majesty,” Gisela said, stern and no-nonsense. “Wolfram needs to rest, but I also need to speak to him in private.”

“What?” Yuuri looked at her. “Wolfram’s my husband, my wife, he’s my Omega, whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me.”

Gisela straightened herself and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry Heika, but not this. This is sensitive, something I must speak with Wolfram alone.”

Yuuri looked like he wanted to argue, but one look from Gisela had him rising reluctantly to his feet.

“I’ll be back,” he whispered to Wolfram, pressing a final kiss to his knuckles. “I promise.”

And Wolfram, flushed and teary-eyed in the soft candlelight, nodded.

He believed him, he always would.

The moment the door clicked shut behind Yuuri, Gisela and Cecilie exchanged a look. Gisela lingered near the door, arms crossed, gaze trained sharply as though half-expecting their King to sneak back in. Only once she was certain he was truly gone did she give a small nod. Cecilie glided toward Wolfram’s bedside, her skirts whispering against the floor like the softest of lullabies.

She sat gracefully at the edge of the bed and reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over Wolfram’s forehead.

“How are you feeling, my darling?” she asked, her voice honey-sweet, touched with concern.

Wolfram blinked slowly; his lashes heavy. “I feel… okay. Just tired,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded.

Gisela came to stand beside Cecilie, her healer's eyes assessing every inch of him with quiet calculation. “Wolfram, I want you to tell me again how you've been feeling the past few weeks,” she said gently, her tone coaxing but firm. “Tonight, I believe your collapse was brought on by stress, dehydration, and emotional exhaustion. It’s not surprising with how much you’ve been pushing yourself.”

Wolfram’s brows drew together faintly. “So… that’s what’s been wrong with me all this time?” he asked weakly, voice featherlight.

Gisela gave him a warm, measured smile and shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you’ve been dehydrated for an entire month. I think… it’s something else. Conrad told me what you said earlier.”

Wolfram shifted slightly in the bed, attempting to sit up, but his mother gently pressed a cool palm to his chest, easing him back against the pillows.

“Ah, ah, no fussing, my little one,” Cecilie chided softly. “You still need your rest. You’re strained, and your magic is being drained.”

Wolfram gasped, eyes widening. “My magic is what? That’s bad, isn’t it?”

But Cecilie smiled again, serene and unbothered, brushing a golden lock from his temple. “No, love. It’s actually a very good thing. You're consuming Yuuri’s magic, too, it's flowing into you when he’s nearby. The reason you feel weaker when he isn’t by your side… is because of that same bond. You need him close, your bodies are connected now.”

Wolfram’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing together in confused thought. “But… what’s been happening to me lately then?” he asked.

“I’ve been dizzy,” he admitted softly. “And nauseous a lot. It comes and goes but... sometimes it’s bad. And I’ve been getting sick, often.”

Gisela nodded knowingly. “That makes sense.” She glanced at Cecilie before lowering her voice to a gentler, more intimate tone. “Wolfram… has your chest been sore?”

Wolfram’s face flared red instantly. His head jerked toward her, scandal blooming in his expression.

“W-What?!” he squeaked.

Cecilie patted his hand gently, her touch steady and reassuring. “I know it’s a sensitive subject, sweetheart but it’s important. Your answer will help confirm what I suspect.”

Wolfram’s cheeks burned brighter, and he bit his bottom lip, shame and confusion swirling in his emerald eyes. “…Y-Yeah,” he whispered shyly, “My, um… my breasts… they’ve been tender lately. It hurts sometimes when I turn too quickly or lie on my side but… why does that matter?”

Cecilie leaned forward, her hand cupping his cheek. Her smile was full of love, maternal warmth shining in her eyes. “It matters, Wolf-chan. It’s a very big sign.”

“A big sign?” Wolfram repeated, blinking rapidly. “Of… what?”

Gisela crouched down slightly to meet his gaze, her tone still kind but gently clinical. “Have you been very tired lately? Needing to relieve yourself often? Even when you haven’t had much water?”

Wolfram nodded awkwardly. “Y-Yeah. It feels like I have to pee all the time, even when I haven't drunk anything. And the tiredness… it’s like I haven’t properly slept in weeks.”

The two women shared a look, one of silent confirmation. Cecilie exhaled softly, her fingers brushing through Wolfram’s hair with tender strokes. She leaned in, her voice almost a whisper now, soft and intimate.

“Wolf-chan… do you remember that important talk we had, back when your body began rebalancing itself?” she asked, her voice filled with maternal patience. “That change that happens once a month for Omegas and women alike? I told you it was natural… that it meant your body was becoming healthy again.”

“Right… because I was pretty drugged up growing up, my body stopped doing that for years…” Wolfram squinted at her, a blush climbing his cheeks.

Cecilie nodded, lovingly caressing his temple with her thumb. “Yes, that’s right but, sweetheart… do you remember the last time it happened?”

Wolfram opened his mouth… then slowly closed it again. He looked between them, brows furrowing in confusion. His lips parted once more, breath shaky.

“B-Before…” he whispered.

Cecilie leaned closer. “Before the wedding, Wolf-chan?” she coaxed, her tone soft as a lullaby.

Wolfram’s eyes grew wide, his breath catching. He nodded slowly, paling.

“B-But that was three months ago!” he blurted.

Cecilie patted his hand, her smile both soothing and proud. “It doesn’t matter, love. You and Heika Yuuri are married. You’re bonded and we all know what happened that night.”

Wolfram stared, mouth agape, a thousand thoughts tumbling in his mind at once. “Y-You…You mean I’m… I-I can’t be! I mean-It’s not, you really think I’m… I-I’m…?!”

He was flushed to his ears now, hands pressed tightly to the covers, emerald eyes wide with disbelief.

Gisela smiled warmly. “Yes, Wolfram. I believe you’re pregnant.”

Pregnant?!

~#~

Yuuri was furious, and not in the usual pouty, foot-stomping way he might’ve acted as a teenager. No, this was something darker, deeper. His fingers drummed a sharp, impatient rhythm against the polished mahogany of his desk, each tap like a storm warning. Midnight-black eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he stared down at the paperwork he hadn’t read in over an hour, the ink blurred, words bleeding together, unread and unimportant.

Something was wrong. Off, he felt it in his bones, thrumming beneath his skin like a second heartbeat. His breath came shallow, jaw tight, as if just breathing in this air, so far from Wolfram, was making him sick.

Across the room, Gwendal stood stiffly, arms folded behind his back, watching the Heika with a wary gaze. Normally, he could ignore a tantrum. Even Yuuri’s worst moods could usually be smoothed over with a stern look or some logic, but this wasn’t a tantrum, this was an Alpha on edge. and worse, an Alpha who wasn’t bothering to suppress it.

Sparks crackled around Yuuri, blue lightning that licked across his skin like a storm barely held back. His aura shimmered between the calm, noble presence of the Heika and the wild, protective fury of the Alpha, it flickered, flickered and growled.

Gwendal shifted his gaze toward Gunther, who looked like he was holding his breath, uncertain whether to run or swoon. Even he could feel the tension in the room, thick and electric like the air before a downpour.

It had been years since Yuuri had snuck out of the castle to avoid royal duties. Those reckless days ended the moment Wolfram had been found, wounded and wary, and brought to the castle. From that day on, Yuuri had changed. he matured, he'd thrown himself into being a proper King, into being a worthy Alpha.

But today?

Today Yuuri looked like he was seconds from tearing the office apart with his bare hands.

Without warning, he stood. His chair scraped harshly against the floor, the sudden noise cracking through the heavy silence like thunder. Both Gwendal and Gunther jumped, startled out of their thoughts.

“I’m taking a break,” Yuuri said, his voice low and firm, not a suggestion, an order. His black eyes gleamed with an eerie gold slit, the subtle mark of his divine heritage and dominant instinct.

Gwendal gave a tight nod, stoic as ever, though his jaw flexed. Gunther stammered, “O-Of course, Heika.”

Yuuri didn’t linger. He glanced at them briefly, his eyes still glowing faintly, and then turned and stalked toward the door.

“I’ll return to the paperwork tomorrow morning,” he muttered as he left, his voice like distant thunder promising more.

The door shut with a click, and silence returned.

Gunther exhaled sharply, hand over his chest. “That was… not our usual Yuuri.”

“No,” Gwendal agreed, gruff. “Try not to bother him. He’s in an aggressive state. Best not to provoke it.”

Gunther swallowed, wide-eyed. “I’ll bother you instead!”

Gwendal’s brow twitched. He sighed, resigned. “Fine.”

Meanwhile, the storm itself, Yuuri, strode through the corridors of the Half-Blood Plague Castle, his dark cloak fluttering behind him like the tail of a shadow. His boots struck the floor with steady force, purposeful and loud in the echoing silence.

Servants darted aside, peeking nervously from behind curtains or doorways, their gazes avoiding his like prey sensing a predator. Even the guards stiffened when he passed, unsure whether to salute or flee.

Yuuri’s boots echoed through the grand halls as he stalked toward the chamber he was meant to share with his Omega, his wife. His bonded, the person who belonged with him, in body, soul, and spirit. The chamber door groaned open under his hand, the air behind it thick, still, and quiet, too quiet.

His chest clenched.

The scent hit him first, stale. Faint traces of warm roses and soft firewood lingered in the corners, but it was faded. Like an old dream. Wolfram hadn’t been here. Not in days.

A low growl rumbled from Yuuri’s chest, rough and bitter as he stepped inside. His jaw tightened as he dragged in a breath, trying to catch even a whisper of his mate’s scent… but it was too faint, too far gone.

He strode to the closet with mounting irritation, yanking the doors open with unnecessary force.

Of course, of course, it was empty.

There were no soft blankets curled in a nest, no silky nightgowns clinging to the edges. No slippers tossed lazily to the side. No sign that Wolfram had even glanced at this room in weeks. Not since that night.

Yuuri let out a sharp, bitter snort, slamming the doors closed with a loud bang that echoed off the high ceilings. He dragged his hands through his dark hair, breathing hard, biting back the snarl clawing up his throat.

The bed loomed behind him, untouched on one side. Cold. Always cold.

Wolfram hadn’t slept in their shared bed since that cursed night at the royal ball. Since everything had shifted. Since the distance between them began to stretch and crack, no matter how desperately Yuuri tried to close it.

His frustration burned. Not just from the ache of being apart, but from how powerless he felt. He had begged, begged, to see Wolfram, to speak with him but the doors remained shut. The guards didn’t even question the orders. Yuuri was the King, but in this, he had no power.

He glared around the room one final time before turning on his heel and storming out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

He knew exactly where Wolfram was and he knew the scent that clung to the hall outside that warded door, his Omega’s scent, was the only reason he hadn’t broken it down with his bare hands.

Instead, Yuuri’s fury twisted into something sharp and wounded. He turned down another corridor, away from Wolfram, from the ache, from the bitter rejection, and stormed toward the gardens.

Maybe the air would help. Maybe he just needed to breathe.

The sky growled overhead, echoing his mood like a mirror. Thunder rolled across the clouds like distant drums, and lightning cracked far on the horizon. The kingdom was at the edge of a storm again, summoned by its Maou, who could not contain his wrath or his grief.

Yuuri stepped out into the courtyard, letting the wind bite at him. The first raindrops began to fall, cold and stinging, dotting the stone beneath his feet.

He leaned back against the damp wall, eyes burning as he tilted his head toward the sky. The heavens opened with a roar, pouring down in sheets, soaking his cloak and hair.

He didn’t care.

Behind his back, his hands twisted tightly together, his shoulders rigid, every part of him clenched with restraint. He wanted to roar, he wanted to demand, to call out through the castle until Wolfram answered him but he couldn’t.

His mate was hurting, and Yuuri didn’t know how to fix it.

I don’t even know what I did wrong, he thought bitterly.

A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the garden in stark white for a heartbeat. Yuuri flinched, not at the thunder, but at the fear, the guilt, the storm building inside him louder than the one outside.

He let the rain wash over him, the storm soaking his skin and seeping into his bones.

Murata stepped beside him with his usual light-footed grace, his staff tapping the stone softly as he leaned against the opposite pillar. Despite the storm in the sky—and the one in Yuuri’s heart—he wore a grin that could almost pass for sunshine.

“You seem to be in a dreadful mood, Shibuya,” he said cheerfully, tilting his head as if the tension in the air was little more than an amusing inconvenience.

Yuuri didn’t bother to look at him. His jaw was tight, his black eyes narrowed against the rain as he crossed his arms, silently stewing. The occasional snap of lightning still flared across the distant sky, but now the storm had turned sullen, the thunder fading into a mournful rumble.

Murata’s smile only widened. “You’re scaring the palace staff, you know. All that growling and snarling. It’s very un-Yuuri-like.”

“I am angry.”

“Clearly,” Murata replied with a theatrical hum, adjusting his glasses. “And when the great and gentle Heika is angry, the clouds weep and the walls tremble.”

Yuuri finally turned to him with a frown, shoulders heavy beneath his soaked cloak. “Wolfram’s avoiding me.”

Murata arched a brow. “That’s obvious too.”

“I don’t know why,” Yuuri snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice. He dragged a hand through his wet hair, shaking droplets loose. “He won’t even sleep in our room anymore; he’s locked himself in Lady Cecilie’s chambers and won’t let me in.”

Murata clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Well, Cecilie is his mother. A rather radiant and dramatic one at that.”

“That’s not helpful,” Yuuri growled. “You’re supposed to be the Great Sage!”

“And that I am,” Murata said, still smiling as he twirled his staff with a little flourish. “But being all-knowing doesn’t mean I’m always serious.”

Yuuri groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just…give me advice.”

“Advice on what, exactly?”

“You know what,” Yuuri huffed, glaring at him through the misty rain.

Murata’s expression shifted then, from amused to something gentler. “Ah. You mean with Wolfram.”

Yuuri’s tough facade cracked, his eyes dimming as his posture slumped forward. He leaned heavily against the stone, the storm finally quieting into a heavy, sobbing drizzle that matched his mood.

“Murata… help me,” he whispered, the words raw. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’ve done something to upset him, or if he’s hurt, or if he… if he regrets bonding with me.”

The ache in his voice was thick, and for once, Murata didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked out into the rain, letting the silence stretch, heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Yuuri sniffed and shook his head. “He won’t talk to me. Cecilie won’t even let me see him. And the only people he will see are Gisela and Greta. I’m glad he’s not shutting Greta out, of course, but she won’t talk either. Not to me. It’s like they’re all keeping something from me, and I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is.”

Murata was quiet for another moment, his face uncharacteristically serious. His gaze followed the falling rain, before he finally drew a slow breath and straightened.

“Shibuya…” he said softly, “You’re not supposed to fix Wolfram.”

Yuuri blinked, confused. “What?”

Murata turned to face him properly now, eyes sincere behind his glasses. “He’s not broken. He’s scared. Something’s changing in him, something big, and terrifying, and probably wonderful too, but Wolfram doesn’t know how to be vulnerable. Not even with you, not yet.”

Yuuri's lips parted, stunned into stillness.

“What he needs,” Murata went on, “Is to feel safe. Not protected, he’s always been a warrior. Not kept, but safe, loved, seen and chosen.”

“I do love him,” Yuuri whispered, the words sticking like thorns in his throat. “I love him more than anything. I just, I don’t know how to show him in a way that he’ll believe.”

Murata smiled gently, resting both hands atop his staff. “Then tell him. Again. And again. As many times as it takes.”

“I can’t even get to him,” Yuuri said bitterly.

Murata tapped his chin. “Then find another way. Write to him. Speak through Greta. Stand outside his door if you have to. You’re his Alpha, Yuuri but more importantly, you’re his mate. You have to be the one to reach him when no one else can.”

Yuuri’s jaw clenched as the weight of the words settled over him. Rain ran down his face, but he didn’t care. Something in his chest steadied. A slow-burning certainty.

“Even if he pushes me away?” he asked.

“Especially then,” Murata replied with a knowing glint. “Because that's when love proves itself.”

Yuuri exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He nodded once.

Murata turned, his cloak flaring slightly as he began to walk away, staff clicking on the stones. “Oh, and Yuuri?”

Yuuri looked up.

Murata grinned back at him. “Try not to destroy the kingdom with your next tantrum. I just fixed the west wing roof.”

Yuuri managed a weak laugh, small, but real. “You? I find that hard to believe.”

“Me too.” Murata laughed. “But I know one or two people who would be upset if you destroy part of your castle.”

Yuuri nodded, the storm still lingered overhead, but the first spark of light had returned and Yuuri knew what he had to do.

The rain fell softly now, a steady, sorrowful rhythm that drummed against the castle walls like the quiet ache of a heart breaking. It was no longer wild and full of rage, but muted, grieving, heavy with the weight of love and uncertainty. Yuuri walked through the damp corridors, his boots leaving wet imprints on the stone floors as he returned to the chamber he once shared with Wolfram.

The room felt colder than before. Emptier. The silence inside wrapped around him like a thick, invisible fog. He crossed the space slowly, then sat at the edge of the bed, resting his hands on his knees for a moment, fingers trembling, the side of the bed where Wolfram used to sleep still held the faintest imprint of memory, but no warmth.

Yuuri reached over to the desk beside the bed and pulled out parchment, a bottle of black ink, and a slender quill. The rain outside whispered against the windowpanes as he began to write.

‘My dearest Wolfram,

I’m not good at saying things the right way. I stumble and fail, especially when it matters most—and with you, it always matters the most.

You’ve given me so much: your loyalty, your strength, your fire… and your heart. And I’ve tried so hard to be the Alpha you deserve, but maybe I’ve fallen short. If I have, I want to know. I want to fix it.

Please talk to me. Yell at me if you have to. Just don’t shut me out, not like this. I miss you. I ache for you. I love you, Wolfram. I love you with everything I am.

If there’s still a place for me beside you, I’ll do anything to earn it again.

Always yours,

Yuuri.’

He stared at the letter for a long moment, letting the ink dry before carefully folding the parchment. His hands moved with reverence as he sealed it with warm wax, pressing his signet into it with trembling fingers. His heart felt heavy, like it had sunk to the bottom of his chest.

He turned, his gaze falling to the sunflowers on the corner table, bright and bold, a splash of summer brought from Earth. He had meant to give them to Wolfram but never was able to.

Now he stepped forward and selected the largest, most vibrant bloom from the bunch. Its golden petals stood proud even under the gloom of the rainy day. Yuuri tied the letter carefully to the stem with a sleek black ribbon, his fingers brushing over the petals like a silent apology.

He held the flower and letter in his hands and just… stared. His chest ached so deeply it felt like something was physically tearing inside of him.

He loved Wolfram. More than words could ever fully capture. And the idea that he might lose him. that Wolfram might truly want to leave, was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t want me anymore,” he whispered aloud to no one. “I don’t think I can let you go.”

With one last look around the empty chamber, Yuuri turned and left, sunflower and letter held protectively against his chest, but he didn’t walk toward Cecilie’s quarters.

He turned down a different corridor, heading toward the small room where his daughter stayed. Greta’s room. The only one who might still be able to bridge the chasm that had formed between him and his mate.

He stopped at her door and knocked lightly; the sound was small, gentle.

The door creaked open a moment later, and there stood Greta, blinking up at him with wide golden eyes, her curls bouncing slightly as her head tilted in surprise.

“Papa?” she gasped.

Yuuri smiled, and his heart broke all over again at the sight of her. His little girl.

“I’m sorry if I’ve scared you, Greta,” he said softly.

Greta blinked and shook her head, curls swaying. “You haven’t scared me, Papa. I know you’re hurting.”

Yuuri let out a breath, something tight in his throat catching. When did she get so wise? So strong?

“I am,” he admitted, voice low, almost cracking. “I miss Wolfram. A lot.”

Greta nodded, her expression gentle. “I know, Wolfe misses you too.”

“He… he does?” Yuuri’s eyes widened.

A soft laugh escaped her lips, full of childlike certainty. “Of course, Papa. Wolfe misses you so much.”

Yuuri had to blink back the tears that threatened to fall again. He swallowed thickly. “Um… could you do me a favour, Greta?”

She tilted her head again, curls bouncing like sunshine despite the rainy gloom.

“Of course, Papa.”

Yuuri held up the sunflower and letter, his hand clammy and unsure. “Could you make sure Wolfram gets this? Please?”

Greta’s eyes widened in awe at the sight of the golden bloom and its delicate ribbon-tied message. She took it carefully in both hands, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“Yes, Papa,” she said with a bright nod. “I’ll make sure Wolfe gets it!”

Yuuri smiled down at her, his heart aching and hopeful all at once. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of her curls from her forehead.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

As Greta turned and hurried off with the flower clutched tight to her chest, Yuuri remained by her door, watching her disappear down the corridor.

He let the door close slowly behind him and pressed his back to the wood, breathing in the scent of the rain and distant sunflowers…somewhere inside the castle, his message was on its way to the one he loved and all he could do now… was wait.

~#~

The next morning, Yuuri stood in front of Cecilie’s chamber door, his hand trembling mid-air, hovering just inches away from knocking. The sleepless night clung to him like fog. He’d tossed and turned, buried under blankets that no longer held warmth. Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped. It poured with a grief so heavily; it felt like the sky itself mourned.

Yuuri bit down on his lower lip, hard. What if the letter hadn’t been enough? What if Wolfram still didn’t want to see him? What if, what if he really didn’t want to be Yuuri’s Omega anymore? His consort? His queen?

A wave of dread surged up his spine. Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

No. It’s fine. Wolfram just needs more time, there’s work to do anyway, yes, he’s very busy. Gwendal’s probably furious he’s this behind. He took a shaky step back, heart pounding like a war drum against his ribs. He’ll try again tomorrow, yes, tomorrow. That sounds reasonable, Yuuri turned on his heel, retreating down the hall toward his office, trying to ignore the ache in his chest, when a soft voice called behind him.

“Heika?”

He froze mid-step, his breath catching. Slowly, he turned around, and there she was, Gisela, standing in the doorway of Cecilie’s room, her expression calm and kind, her voice was a balm in the storm.

Yuuri’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Gisela bowed her head gently. “Would you like to come in? Wolfram wants to see you.”

“He… he does? Really?” Yuuri blinked, stunned.

She smiled softly and nodded, stepping aside to let him through.

His feet didn’t move at first, unsure and heavy as stone, but Gisela’s smile didn’t falter. Encouragement radiated from her in quiet waves, and that was enough. Yuuri's steps carried him forward, one heartbeat at a time, until he crossed the threshold.

The scent hit him like a memory wrapped in warmth, Wolfram. His scent was everywhere, rich and familiar. Yuuri nearly sagged from the wave of emotion it brought. Their shared chamber had felt so cold without it. Here, in this space, it bloomed.

He glanced around, taking in the room. It was spacious, almost regal, befitting the former queen. Cecilie sat on the bed, Greta perched behind her, brushing and braiding her mother’s golden hair. Greta beamed the moment she met Yuuri’s eyes, and Cecilie offered him a knowing smile, her green eyes shimmering.

Then Yuuri noticed it, the walk-in closet door stood slightly ajar, soft lamplight glowing from within.

His breath hitched, he knew this, Wolfram had done this once before—during his first heat, he’d hidden away in that very closet. Built a nest, Yuuri had always regretted not seeing it.

His skin tingled, and his legs suddenly felt like jelly. Cecilie gave a small nod toward the door, silent permission written in every graceful line of her face.

Yuuri swallowed and moved toward it, his hand trembling as he reached for the handle. He pulled the door open slowly, reverently, and the scent inside was intoxicating. Stronger, sweeter, it was just so Wolfram.

Tears sprang to his eyes instantly, there, nestled within a cocoon of blankets, pillows, and quilts, was Wolfram’s nest. It was beautiful, soft, inviting and deeply intimate. Yuuri's gaze swept across it, and his heart clenched.

His royal cloak lay in the centre, draped with care. His clothes, shirts, jackets, even that old school blazer Wolfram loved, were tucked within the folds. The thick black winter blanket they always shared was there, too, Yuuri hadn’t even realized these things were missing but Wolfram had noticed. Had wanted them close.

“W-Wolfram…” he breathed, voice cracking as he stepped closer.

Wolfram stirred in the centre of the nest, his long lashes fluttering as he looked up. His green eyes, shimmering with moisture, met Yuuri’s.

“Yuuri…” he whispered, a small smile curving his lips. “I missed you.”

Yuuri’s chest tightened. “Can I… can I come in?” he asked, voice trembling, soaked in vulnerability.

Wolfram nodded.

Yuuri quickly kicked off his shoes and stepped gingerly into the nest, careful not to disturb anything. He lowered himself onto his knees beside Wolfram, everything about his posture hesitant and aching.

“Can… can I hold you?” he whispered.

Another nod and then Yuuri wrapped his arms around him, gathering Wolfram close, burying his face into that soft golden hair. The floodgates nearly opened.

“Wolfram…” he choked, pressing kisses into his hair. “Oh, Wolfe. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

Wolfram shook his head, his face hidden against Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri sniffed, stroking gentle fingers through Wolfram’s hair. His eyes caught sight of the sunflower and the letter, carefully placed within the nest, his heart fluttered.

He read it.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Did something happen?”

Wolfram’s fingers tightened around the lapel of Yuuri’s jacket, clutching it like a lifeline. He inhaled deeply, then slowly pulled back to look at Yuuri, his green eyes were damp, his lower lip trembling.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, voice shaking. “I just… I needed time, to think, to breathe, I never imagined this could happen, and it was all too much and I didn’t know how to handle it. I-I got scared and I didn’t want to hurt you, I just needed…”

Yuuri gently cupped his face, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, Wolfram,” he said softly. “I love you so much. Whatever it is… we’ll face it together. I promise.”

Wolfram let out a soft hiccup and leaned into the touch. “I love you too…”

Yuuri smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, gentle, sweet, and full of longing.

“I love you so much, Wolfram. So, so much.”

Wolfram’s breath quivered against him, in a voice so soft it could’ve been mistaken for the rain he whispered…

“Yuuri… I’m… I-I’m pregnant.”

Yuuri blinked, stunned, the words echoing in his ears.

“You’re… what?” he breathed, barely more than a whisper.

Wolfram sniffled, his green eyes shimmering with tears that now spilled freely down his cheeks. He clutched at Yuuri’s jacket as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m pregnant,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “That’s why I’ve been so unwell lately… the nausea, the exhaustion, the weakness...”

And suddenly, everything made sense, Yuuri’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The way Wolfram had been constantly tired, why he’d disappeared from their bed, why his scent had shifted so subtly—he’d brushed it off, foolishly thinking it was stress or some kind of seasonal sickness. But it had been this. This.

Yuuri’s arms instinctively tightened around Wolfram, holding him as if he might break if he let go. Carefully, he shifted, pulling Wolfram onto his lap, cradling him with reverence.

“Wolfram,” he whispered, his fingers trailing over the curve of his back. “Are you alright? Are you… feeling, okay?”

Wolfram hiccupped, his lip trembling as he stared up at him. “A-Are you mad at me?”

Yuuri blinked, stunned. “Mad? Mad?” He pulled back just enough to look Wolfram in the eyes, completely aghast. “Why would I ever be mad at you?”

Wolfram looked down, trying to wipe his tears away with the back of his hand, but they just kept falling, each one carving a new crack into Yuuri’s heart.

“Because... because Omegas are…” his voice cracked, “They’re – I mean, we’re whores, Yuuri. We spread our legs and trap Alphas and-”

Yuuri silenced him with a kiss, a  fierce, tender kiss that trembled with love and disbelief that Wolfram could ever think so little of himself.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead gently against Wolfram’s and whispered, “You are none of those things, you’re the most beautiful, sweet, and gentle Omega I’ve ever met. I am so in love with you, Wolfram.”

Wolfram gasped, a shuddering breath that turned into a sob as he pressed himself into Yuuri’s chest, burying his face against his Alpha, clinging to him with every ounce of strength he had left. Yuuri stroked his soft hair, holding him close, breathing him in, grounding him with scent and touch and every beat of his heart.

“I just wish…” Yuuri murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “I wish you hadn’t hidden away from me. I could’ve taken care of you, from the very beginning. You didn’t have to go through this alone.”

Wolfram tilted his head up, eyes red-rimmed, voice cracking.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. Really, I am. But I was scared. I… I forgot this could even happen. I spent so long believing I was just a slave. I had a master and a mistress. I was kicked, ignored, thrown aside. I never imagined this life for myself, I never thought Cecilie von Spitzweg could be my mother, or that I could be the destined mate of the 27th Heika of Shin Makoku.”

His voice broke again. “I got scared and… I panicked.”

Yuuri didn’t say anything for a moment, he simply held him tighter, gently rocking him, releasing his scent in slow, soothing waves. It wrapped around them like warmth after a storm, protective, calming, loving.

“Shhh,” Yuuri whispered softly into Wolfram’s hair, kissing the top of his head, “It’s alright now. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Wolfram melted against him, his sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, Yuuri felt his Omega relax in his arms.

The rain still fell outside, but it no longer felt mournful, it was gentler now, like the sky was finally breathing again. The clouds began to part, and the sun began to shine, finally, after days of nothing but rain and dark clouds.

Yuuri tucked a strand of hair behind Wolfram’s ear, his heart full of awe. “We’re going to be parents, Wolfe, you and me.”

Wolfram’s eyes shimmered as he looked up at him again.

“You’re really not mad?”

Yuuri smiled, kissed him again, this time slow, lingering, full of promise.

“Never, I’ve never loved you more.”

~#~

Wolfram, the Joō of Shin Makoku, was small in stature but carried himself with the pride of a thousand kings. An Omega, yes, but never fragile, and certainly no child. His marriage to Yuuri, the reigning Maō, had come only a month after the new Omega rights law was passed. To call the early years of their union a series of “hiccups” was almost laughable, they had faced storms. But as time wore on, so too did the resistance, slowly, the world around them began to soften.

What truly began to melt the hearts of the people, however, was Wolfram’s first pregnancy.

It had been half a year since their wedding, on this particular morning, Wolfram sat quietly in the palace gardens, a place he had always found calming. Nine months pregnant now, his belly full and heavy, he leaned back slightly, one hand resting protectively atop the swell. His green eyes, dulled by exhaustion, fluttered halfway closed. In front of him, a steaming cup of honey tea sat on the table, gifted by Miko, who claimed it was a Shibuya family craving passed down generations.

He hummed softly to himself.

Whenever his thoughts drifted back to his wedding night, he would flush like a lovesick boy. Though no stranger to intimacy, memories of that night still sent a shiver through him, of how gently Yuuri had held him, how reverent every touch had been. The Alpha had stopped constantly, whispering questions, concerned murmurs…

“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Tell me if you need me to stop.”

An entire hour had passed before they’d even gotten close to anything carnal. Wolfram had nearly screamed. He’d said yes a dozen times, but Yuuri had touched him like he was made of china.

Even now, Yuuri was overly cautious, ever since the pregnancy had been confirmed, he hadn’t so much as laid a passionate hand on him. And though Wolfram told himself it was sweet—protective, even, a tiny pang of resentment stirred sometimes.

“Wolfram!”

The sudden shout pulled him from his thoughts. He blinked up just in time to see a dark blur racing across the garden path. In a breath, he was enveloped in a flurry of warmth and worry, Yuuri.

“Yuuri,” Wolfram muttered, lips twitching between amusement and irritation.

Yuuri was panting, hair a tousled mess from what must have been a mad dash out of his office. He reached out, smoothing it down with a deep frown, his fingers trembling just slightly.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded, voice low and tight. “You heard Gisela! You should be resting!”

Wolfram puffed up like an offended cat, cheeks puffed in defiance. “I’m pregnant, not porcelain,” he huffed, folding his arms. “I’ve been in bed for days. I’m going crazy, everyone is overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” Yuuri echoed, disbelief written across his face.

He threw his arms wide in frustration. “Wolfram. You’re outside! In your nightgown! Everyone can see you.”

Now it was Wolfram’s turn to bristle, he tugged self-consciously at the white and blue fabric, cheeks reddening. It wasn’t even revealing, Lady Flynn had gifted it to him herself. The outer gown was a soft, snow-white silk that fell like mist around him, cinched just above his stomach with a sky-blue ribbon. Matching bows adorned the sleeves, and beneath it was a lighter blue slip that barely peeked through. It felt beautiful, sacred and now Yuuri was scolding him in it.

“So what?” he snapped, glaring at the curious maids and guards who immediately scattered under his gaze. “Let them look. They should learn to mind their own damn business.”

Yuuri stepped closer, his brows drawn tight with worry. He rested one hand on his mate’s slim hip, the other trembling slightly as it hovered near Wolfram’s belly. “And what if something happened to you? What if someone tried to hurt you again? I-I couldn’t forgive myself. I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

Wolfram’s anger faltered.

“I’m fine!” he barked again, but his voice cracked. “I just wanted some fresh air! The garden’s guarded, I’m safe! I’m not a prisoner.”

Yuuri’s jaw clenched, his voice tight with restrained panic. “Wolfram, you don’t understand. You’re not just any Omega. You’re mine. You’re the Joō, just as vital to this kingdom as I am. You can’t go wandering around alone, not without protection! Not even Conrad was with you!”

Wolfram’s eyes sparked; his voice sharp as steel. “Well! Maybe if you hadn’t bred me to begin with, I wouldn’t be a damn target for every blade in the kingdom!”

The words struck like a slap. Yuuri flinched, shoulders tensing, breath catching. “That was cruel,” he said, voice low and trembling. “And completely uncalled for.”

Wolfram snorted, but the sound was brittle. He made to rise, well, tried. The weight of his nine-month belly made the action clumsy and awkward. He braced his hand on the edge of the bench, his other arm wrapped instinctively around the curve of his stomach.

“What do you want from me, Yuuri?” he hissed. “To chain me to the bed? Lock me away like a pretty doll in a glass box?”

“I’m baring, not broken,” he snapped, chin lifted proudly. “I refuse to lie there rotting while everyone tiptoes around me like I’m about to shatter.”

Yuuri didn’t respond at first. He lowered his head, shadows cast over his face. When he looked up again, his eyes were no longer soft. They were glowing, burning gold, the telltale glint of the Maō stirring beneath the skin.

Lightning crackled at his fingertips.

Then, in a blur of movement, he strode forward and swept Wolfram into his arms, bridal-style, as though the Omega weighed no more than a petal. The entire garden seemed to freeze. Maids gasped. Guards quickly looked away, trying not to meet the fire in the King’s eyes.

“Yuuri!” Wolfram barked, his cheeks ablaze with outrage and embarrassment. “Put me down! Right now! Right now!”

Yuuri’s grip tightened, careful but unyielding. He didn’t say a word. His steps were fast, purposeful, storming through the castle halls like a tempest with his precious burden in his arms. He ignored the stares, ignored the whispers. His only focus was the furious, flushed figure in his arms.

Wolfram pounded lightly at Yuuri’s shoulder, growling in frustration. When that didn’t work, he resorted to sulking, pressing his face into Yuuri’s cloak to hide his embarrassment, his ears glowed pink.

By the time they reached the royal bedchamber, Wolfram was still fuming, though quieter now.

Yuuri kicked open the door with one powerful motion. The heavy wooden frame slammed against the wall with a crash. Without a word, he set Wolfram down gently on the thick, silk-draped bed, deliberate, careful not to jostle him, despite the rage rolling off his frame in waves.

Wolfram sprang upright the second he was released, his blonde hair falling across his cheeks as his green eyes sparked like fire. “You are incompetent, idiotic wimp!” he seethed, pointing an accusatory finger.

“Enough!” Yuuri snapped, his voice layered with the commanding power of a king. “You will stay in bed, Wolfram. You will listen for once!”

Wolfram opened his mouth, ready to hurl back another sharp retort, but Yuuri’s expression stopped him cold. There was fury there, yes, but underneath it was fear. Real, bone-deep fear.

Wolfram huffed through his nose and pulled himself further into the bed, arms crossed over his chest and belly as much as his bump would allow.

“Thou will behave, and remain where thou art supposed to be,” Yuuri said firmly, turning toward the door, the Maō still flickering beneath his skin.

Conrad appeared in the doorway just then, brows raised, concern in his eyes. “Heika? Is everything alright?”

Yuuri didn’t look at him. “Station yourself outside the chamber. For the rest of the day. If he so much as whispers your name, I want you to lock him in.”

Wolfram gaped. His jaw dropped in disbelief. “You! You boneheaded tyrant! Buffoon! Imbecile! WIMP!”

With a dramatic shriek, he grabbed one of the royal cushions and lobbed it across the room. It sailed through the air with perfect aim and hit Yuuri squarely in the back of the head.

Yuuri paused mid-step. Silent. He didn’t turn around.

“I’m also seriously considering chaining him to the bed if this keeps up,” he muttered, before vanishing down the corridor.

Wolfram growled low in his throat, his face flaming red. “You goddamned wimp!”

Conrad sighed heavily.

Wolfram glared at him. “Don’t start, I don’t need another lecture, just shut the door and let me sulk in peace.”

The older brother remained calm, as always. He bent down to retrieve the discarded pillow. “Wolfram… please. Just be careful. We know you’re strong but this close to delivering… one wrong step, and…”

Wolfram’s head snapped up. “How dare you imply I’m not thinking of my child!” he growled, clutching his stomach protectively.

“That’s not what I meant,” Conrad said softly, gently placing the cushion back on the bed. “We’re all just worried. Yuuri… he’s terrified. He just doesn’t know how to say it right.”

Wolfram’s anger began to ebb, his features softening just a touch. He looked away, biting his lip.

“He’d tear the world apart for you, you know,” Conrad added. “Both of you.”

Wolfram didn’t answer, but his arms curled tighter around his belly. “Idiot,” he muttered under his breath. “Wimpy, overprotective idiot.”

But his voice no longer held the same bite.

Wolfram’s nose wriggled, lips pushing into a pout. He hated how right Conrad sounded, but that didn’t make it sting any less. His green gaze dropped to his enormous belly, round and taut beneath his nightgown. It felt surreal, even now. That something, someone, was curled up inside him. A cub, their cub, the thought sent a shudder through his frame. Gently, he ran a hand over the bump, tracing its shape with slow, soothing strokes.

“Yuuri’s just worried,” Conrad reminded softly, passing the cushion to him. “You remember last week, don’t you?”

Wolfram clicked his tongue and bowed his head. He clutched the pillow to his chest like a shield, nodding silently.

“I remember,” he whispered. “It hurt... a lot.”

Conrad eased himself down beside him, his movements cautious and calm. He slipped an arm around Wolfram’s shoulders, offering warmth without pressure. “That’s why Yuuri’s beside himself and not just that, an assassin nearly got to you a few weeks ago, too.”

“But you stopped him,” Wolfram muttered. “So, I wasn’t in any real danger.”

Conrad chuckled lowly. “Wolfram... as long as Big Shimaron keeps fighting Yuuri’s peace treaty, you’ll always be in danger. Not just because you’re the Joō, but because you carry the future Maō.”

Wolfram’s lips parted. “It’s not just Big Shimaron,” he blurted. “I overheard Gwendal and Günter. Yuuri’s been trying to keep it from me, but I know. Other countries are pushing back against the treaty, and some are getting violent.”

Conrad gave a small nod. “That’s true,” he admitted. “We’re trying to protect you, Yuuri doesn’t want to cause you more stress.”

“Stress,” Wolfram scoffed, throwing his head back with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “That’s what everyone keeps saying! ‘Oh, don’t stress the Queen! Don’t upset Wolfram!’ Gods, if I hear that word one more time!”

But his voice faltered.

His eyes fell again to his belly, and his hands trembled faintly against the bump. He remembered the cramps. Not normal pain, not just discomfort. Deep, wrenching waves that had left him sobbing into the mattress, helpless. Gisela had rushed in, her voice urgent but calm. He’d barely heard her over the panic.

“You had those fake contractions from the stress,” Conrad reminded gently.

“Right...” Wolfram muttered, lips trembling. “Gisela said it was, Braxton Hicks. My body getting ready to...”

He trailed off with a quiet whimper, face twisting as he remembered. The bed rest, the way his entire body had felt like it was folding in on itself. The way Yuuri hadn’t left his side that night, clutching his hand with white knuckles even as Wolfram had shouted at him.

“Gisela said it’d be dangerous if I moved around too much…” Wolfram murmured, “But being trapped in here all day is driving me mad.”

Conrad squeezed his shoulder, grounding him. “I know.”

“And those damn maids!” Wolfram cried suddenly, fire flaring back up. “Always fluttering around like nervous birds, hovering outside the door, I can see their shadows! Gossiping! Whispering about me!”

Conrad’s brow furrowed. “I’ll speak with them. That’s not acceptable.”

Wolfram sighed, sagging against him with a deep, tired huff. “Yuuri’s never around anymore either... Always in meetings. It’s hard, you know. Sharing him with an entire kingdom.”

“I know,” Conrad said softly, wrapping his arm more tightly around him. “But it won’t always be like this. Once the baby’s here, things will change and Yuuri, he loves you more than anything. He’s just scared; he’s trying to protect you.”

Wolfram sniffed. “He’s not doing a very good job.”

That made Conrad chuckle. “No, I suppose not. Especially if the two of you keep exploding on each other like earlier.”

“It’s not my fault!” Wolfram shot back quickly, bristling again. “Yuuri always starts it!”

Conrad gave him a pointed look. “Wolfram.”

Wolfram folded his arms with a loud huff. “I know! But I can’t help it! I’m just, just so angry all the time! Over everything!”

“That’s normal,” Conrad said kindly. “You’re allowed to feel that way. Anger, fear... it’s all part of this.”

Wolfram grumbled under his breath. He twisted the fabric of his nightgown in his fists, jaw clenched. Then, slowly, his nose began to twitch again. His throat worked around a lump he didn’t want to admit was there. His vision blurred.

His voice cracked.

“D-Don’t you dare say it’s just hormones!” he hiccupped, a tear sliding down his cheek. “It’s not a mood swing!”

The words broke apart into a soft sob. He pressed his face against the cushion, trying to muffle the sound—but more tears followed, hot and unstoppable. His pride curled tight in his chest, warring with the vulnerability he hated feeling.

Conrad said nothing. He just held his brother close, letting Wolfram cry, letting him fall apart safely in the quiet warmth of someone who cared.

Conrad hummed softly. “Of course not, Wolfram. You’re just overwhelmed, and that’s completely okay. It’s alright to feel angry, and to cry,” he said, gently squeezing the Omega’s arm.

Wolfram hiccupped loudly. He sniffled, trying to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming. No matter how many times he swiped at his cheeks, fresh tears always followed, his chest hitched with each breath, his sobs jagged and breathless.

Conrad stayed close, rubbing soothing circles on the middle of Wolfram’s back. Gradually, the sobbing began to settle, tapering off into soft sniffles and hiccups. Red-rimmed eyes blinked down at the bump, and Wolfram dabbed at his cheeks with a shaky hand. At last, the storm passed, leaving only a few stray tears in its wake.

“Feel a little better now?” Conrad asked with a small smile.

Wolfram sniffed again. He turned his gaze from his belly to his older brother. “Hmm... A bit, yeah.” He paused, voice quieter, more thoughtful. “Conrad, I do understand why Yuuri’s acting like this. I get it, he just wants me safe, out of harm’s way nut... please. I can’t stay cooped up in here all day, every day. I’m not asking to run laps around the castle, I just want to go into the garden. Is that really too much?”

Conrad was quiet for a long moment. He held Wolfram gently, letting him lean fully into the embrace. Then, with a soft exhale, he pressed a kiss to the top of Wolfram’s head.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “But you have to understand... you’re getting really close to your due date.”

Wolfram nodded, resting both hands on his belly. He inhaled deeply, he knew it, Gisela had told him plainly, it could happen any day now. After those Braxton Hicks contractions, there was no denying it, his body was getting ready.

“I know,” he murmured. “They’re getting ready to come out... I can feel them. They’ve been moving and kicking more.”

“Really?” Conrad’s tone was full of warm curiosity. “They’re that active?”

Wolfram smiled. A real, soft, genuine smile. He nodded and gently pressed his palm down. “They are,” he chuckled. “Here, right now—they just kicked.”

The movement under his hand was faint, but definite. A nudge, a little thump, like the cub was responding to his touch. Wolfram’s eyes softened.

Eventually, the Omega began to doze, he wasn’t sure exactly when it happened. One moment, he was listening to Conrad recount a recent date with Yozak, Wolfram had teased him about marriage, which made the Beta flush like a teenager. They’d even gossiped about Gwendal and Günter’s slowly blooming relationship. The next moment, Wolfram was waking up, the royal chamber dark and still around him.

He blinked slowly. A quiet sound escaped him, more of a hum than a word, and he rubbed at his bleary eyes. He yawned, stretching carefully, nested deep in the plush black blankets with the cushion still held close to his chest. His nose was blocked, which made him sniff loudly and wrinkle his face in distaste.

“I’m sorry... did I wake you?”

Wolfram puffed out his cheeks and tilted his head back. His bleary vision squinted through the dim light to make out the figure across the room. For a second, he thought it might’ve been Conrad again, but then the familiar scent of earth and rain reached him, grounding and unmistakable.

“Yuuri,” he murmured. “It’s fine.”

The Alpha had just entered. He stood in the doorway for a long beat, eyes fixed on Wolfram. His expression was unreadable, his shoulders tense, then something seemed to shift. Yuuri shook his head slightly, as though dismissing a thought, and silently crossed to the chest of drawers.

Wolfram watched, eyes tracking his mate’s every move, unsure what Yuuri would say, or if he’d say anything at all.

As Wolfram gazed at Yuuri, a quiet shudder rippled through him. Conrad’s words echoed in his mind. Yuuri only wanted to keep him safe. There had been assassins, some attempts successful, some thwarted. Maybe even kidnappers, too. No one had told him directly, but he doubted they hadn’t tried.

He understood Yuuri’s side. He really did but still… he felt so trapped.

“Yuuri,” he murmured quietly, his eyes heating up as they lingered on his husband.

Yuuri paused mid-motion. He glanced briefly at Wolfram, then returned to undoing the buttons of his royal uniform. It was different from the simple school outfit he used to wear, more stately now, adorned with medals and buttons, a black strap crossing his chest. He looked every bit the king he had become and handsome, Wolfram admitted to himself, begrudgingly.

These days, Yuuri no longer wore pyjamas to bed like he used to. Now it was just a black shirt and his boxers, sometimes, not even the shirt. He wasn’t a boy anymore, he was a man, ayoung man.

Wolfram, meanwhile, wore the nightgowns Miko insisted on sending. And after that got out, it seemed everyone started gifting him nightgowns.

“Yuuri… are you still mad at me?” he asked, lips pressed into a firm line.

“I’m not mad,” Yuuri said softly.

Wolfram pouted. “Really?”

Yuuri let out a soft breath and moved to the bed, sinking down beside him. “Really. I was annoyed, I guess but I’m not anymore.”

Wolfram wiggled closer, sniffled, and buried his face into Yuuri’s chest. “I’m sorry, Yuuri. For making you worry so much. I… I know why you’re so concerned.”

“You do?” Yuuri asked, wrapping his arms around him.

“I do,” Wolfram sighed, resting his head against Yuuri’s heartbeat. “It’s because of the assassins, isn’t it?”

Yuuri’s hand slid over his belly, warm and steady. He pressed his palm gently against the bump, a small smile blooming on his lips. “You’re so close to your due date. It could happen any day now. They’re probably getting ready to make their grand escape,” he snorted softly.

Wolfram let out a laugh. “Great escape, really?”

It was funny, in a way, the idea of their child plotting their grand arrival like a jailbreak. Almost as if in agreement, a small kick pulsed beneath the skin. Yuuri gasped, eyes going wide, then beamed.

“See? They agree with me.”

Wolfram smiled, half-lidded eyes watching Yuuri's hand excitedly rub the bump. The baby always kicked more when their father was around.

Taking Yuuri’s other hand, Wolfram brought it close to his chest. “I’ve just been so lonely,” he whispered. “Hahaue’s off on another cruise… and Greta’s away doing her Duchess training.”

Both of them fell quiet at that. Neither was happy about Greta’s departure, it was a long-standing tradition for young noble girls, but that didn’t make it any easier. They had wanted her here when her sibling arrived. It hurt knowing she’d miss it.

“Can’t I just spend some time in the garden?” Wolfram asked, voice soft but pleading. “I’ll have more guards with me if that makes you feel better.”

Yuuri frowned, expression tightening. “Wolfram…”

“Please,” he pressed gently.

The King was silent for a long time. He kept his lips sealed, eyes narrowed in thought. After a long breath, he let out a sigh, one of defeat, not irritation.

“You’ll have Conrad with you at all times,” he said finally, tone resigned.

Wolfram’s eyes lit up. “Thank you,” he breathed with a smile. “Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri grumbled, but his hand returned to softly stroking the bump. “But if I say you need to come back inside, you will. No arguing.”

He brought Wolfram’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

“Wolfram,” he warned.

“I know,” Wolfram hummed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I promise, if you feel like it’s not safe, I’ll come right back. Having Conrad with me will help.”

Yuuri sighed again, softer this time. “I’m not completely okay with this. But… if it makes you happy, I’ll suck it up.”

“Thank you,” the Omega whispered, his smile meek but sincere.

Wolfram tilted his head back, lifting his lips to Yuuri’s, he kissed his Alpha gently.
Immediately, Yuuri kissed him back, pulling Wolfram closer until they were curled up together, warm and safe in the quiet of the royal chamber.

After a long stretch of kisses and quiet laughter, punctuated by soft touches and intimate closeness, Wolfram finally rolled over with a delighted squeal of giggles.

"I always forget how ticklish you are right here," Yuuri teased, pressing a kiss to the curve of Wolfram’s baby bump and letting out a soft snort of laughter.

"Yuuri," Wolfram sighed with mock exasperation, rolling his head across the pillow as another laugh escaped him.

Yuuri brushed his fingers along the sensitive skin again, and the blonde Omega let out a wail of helpless laughter. Grinning wickedly, Yuuri wiggled his fingers once more, sending Wolfram into another fit. He couldn’t help it, and Wolfram, poor thing, couldn’t stop laughing even if he tried.

Eventually, with flushed cheeks and breathless lungs, Wolfram collapsed against him, his giggles fading into quiet snorts and sighs.

They lay there together, peaceful in the aftermath of all that warmth.

"I love you," Wolfram mumbled sleepily, snuggling into Yuuri’s chest. "I really do, Yuuri."

Yuuri pressed his lips to the top of Wolfram’s head. He breathed in the comforting scent of his Omega, nuzzling his nose into the soft golden curls. His arms tightened around him, holding Wolfram as close as the bump between them would allow.

"I love you too," he whispered.

~#~

Wolfram’s lips curled into a wide, tender smile as his hands lovingly caressed the curve of his baby bump. A soft laugh bubbled up from him when he felt the gentle flutter of a kick beneath his palms. The feeling, warm and reassuring, filled him with a joy so pure it made his heart swell. Today, the sunlight streamed down, painting the world around him in shades of gold, making everything feel impossibly serene. He felt almost luminous, as if the happiness inside him was radiating out to touch everything around him.

The cool, comfortable fabric of his white and blue attire fluttered softly against his skin, a perfect contrast to the stifling formality of the tight uniform he had been forced to wear in the months leading up to the wedding. His body, sensitive and swollen, was grateful for the lighter, breathable material, it was a small comfort, but it was enough to make the long days feel bearable.

He sat alone in the garden, taking in the peaceful silence. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, their petals swaying gently in the summer breeze. He breathed deeply, savouring the fresh, floral scent, and let his hands settle over his bump once more. He thought back to when they’d first learned about the baby, the uncertainty and excitement flooding his mind once again but before he could drift too far into his memories, the sudden clamour of noise from inside the castle startled him from his reverie.

Blinking against the sun, Wolfram squinted as his eyes began to water, the sharp light making it difficult to focus. Just as he was about to look away, a loud commotion echoed through the corridors of the castle. The noise was growing closer, carrying with it the heavy sound of hurried footsteps and shouts. A jolt of confusion gripped him.

Where had Conrad gone? He’d been standing just beside him moments ago, but now there was nothing but the rising noise.

Wolfram froze in place, his stomach tightening as the commotion continued to rise. The voices were louder now, a woman’s voice, one that, strangely enough, sounded vaguely familiar. A thought flashed through his mind, a quick, anxious suspicion. Could another assassin have been caught? It seemed possible but why had Conrad and the guards rushed off so quickly?

His hand instinctively pressed protectively over his bump, and with a sharp breath, he struggled to his feet, using the support of the nearby bench to steady himself. His heart raced in his chest as he shuffled toward the noise, moving as quickly as his body would allow, the sound grew louder, an unintelligible mix of angry words and shuffling footsteps, as though someone was fighting to break free.

He couldn't help the bubbling concern rising in his chest. Was someone in danger? Was someone hurt?

His feet quickened, but before he could get too far, a hand gently gripped his shoulder. He turned, startled, to find Conrad standing behind him, his brow furrowed in concern.

"You shouldn't be here," Conrad's voice was low, tinged with worry. His grip on Wolfram’s shoulder tightened slightly, urging him backward. "Go back to the garden. Stay there, please, for your safety."

Wolfram hesitated, his mouth opening as though to protest, but he only managed a soft, worried frown. His eyes darted back toward the noise, still growing in volume, and his heart skipped in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

As Conrad gently guided him back, Wolfram’s attention was caught by another loud shriek, this time more distinct, more desperate.

"Wolf!"

Wolfram’s blood ran cold, his breath hitching in his throat. He froze, unable to process what he had just heard.

"V-Victoria?" he gasped, his eyes widening, before Conrad could stop him, Wolfram broke free from his hold, stumbling toward the noise.

The guards, who had been struggling to contain the small woman, halted as they saw Wolfram approach. The woman, her fiery red curls wild and untamed, smirked triumphantly as she pushed past them, her eyes locking onto Wolfram with an expression of fierce determination.

"Finally!" she groaned, her voice dripping with relief. "Wolf!"

Wolfram's heart pounded in his chest as his gaze fixed on the woman before him. His breath caught as he stepped closer, unable to believe his eyes.

"Victoria?" he whispered in disbelief, his voice barely above a breath.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful smirk. She looked the same as he remembered: stunningly beautiful with porcelain skin, a beauty mark above her lip, and fiery red curls that framed her face like a halo. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint, and though she was dressed far more modestly than he recalled, her presence still carried the same bold energy he had always admired.

"That’s right, it’s me," she replied with a sly grin. "Those idiots wouldn’t let me through! I’ve been trying to see you, but they kept blocking me!" Her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at the guards with disdain, as though daring them to stop her.

Conrad, who had followed closely behind Wolfram, peered between the two with a raised brow.

"Do you know her?" he asked cautiously, his eyes shifting between the woman and Wolfram.

Wolfram blinked, his heart still racing as the world seemed to slow around him. The sight of Victoria, so bold and unapologetic, stirred something in him, memories of their past, of moments filled with laughter and fire. She had always been a force of nature, and it seemed nothing had changed.

"Yeah," Wolfram chuckled softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I know her... It’s Victoria."

Victoria’s laugh rang out, loud and unmistakable, as she leaned back slightly, taking in Wolfram’s stunned expression. She looked the same as he remembered: strikingly beautiful, her pale skin glowing in the soft light, with a beauty mark perched above her lips that only accentuated her delicate features.

Her fiery red curls framed her face, their vibrancy reflecting the mischievous gleam in her blue eyes. There was one notable difference, though, her attire was far more modest than the last time he had seen her, the scandalous outfits of the past replaced with something demurer, yet still undeniably fitting to her spirited personality.

She was one of those Omegas, the kind who did whatever was necessary to get by, back then, she had only one option, one way to survive in a world that didn’t always show kindness to her kind. Wolfram’s heart squeezed at the thought. He’d never judged her for it, but the memory still lingered, bittersweet.

"Yes," Wolfram answered softly, watching her intently. "Where did you go? Lucas, Thorn, and I looked for you everywhere."

Victoria gave a nonchalant shrug, a playful grin dancing across her lips. "Her' and ther'. Imagine my surprise when I finally return and find out my little Wolfi’s married to the Moah and is now the Joō!" she teased, her eyebrows bouncing with delight.

Wolfram groaned in exasperation, a mix of affection and frustration in his voice. "Victoria," he whined, feeling a small flush creep up his neck.

He took a hesitant step back, but Victoria was quicker. She closed the distance between them with surprising speed, her arms wrapping around him in a hug that was both tight and affectionate, though she carefully avoided the bump between them. She petted his head like a cherished pet, her laughter filling the air like music.

"Oh, Wolfi, I never knew you cared so much!" she giggled, her voice light and teasing. "And my, you’ve grown! Look at you!"

Wolfram flushed deeper, embarrassed, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of his baby bump.

"I-I’m not that big," he mumbled shyly, his voice almost a whisper as he glanced down, still trying to come to terms with the changes in his body.

Victoria, however, was having none of it. "You’re massive!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with unrestrained glee. "I remember when you were so small, so tiny. Now look at you, all big and round!"

Wolfram's face burned hotter with each word, and he instinctively crossed his arms over his stomach, as though to hide the swell of it. Was it really that noticeable? His self-consciousness surged, and for a moment, he forgot about everything but the way his body had changed.

"Wolfram?" Conrad's voice broke through his thoughts, a gentle hand settling on his shoulder. He spoke with quiet concern, his gaze flicking between Wolfram and the bold woman before them. "This young lady-"

Victoria’s head tilted, her lips quirking into an amused smirk. "Young lady? That's a complete 180 from a moment ago," she teased, her voice light but laced with mock indignation.

Before Conrad could respond, Wolfram stepped in with a dazzling smile, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. His words were soft but firm, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

 "Victoria is someone who looked out for me when I needed it," he said, his hand briefly touching the back of Conrad’s to settle it away. "She’s an Omega, just like me! Whenever something came up that Thorn and Lucas couldn’t handle, I turned to her."

Victoria’s face flushed slightly at the praise, her lips parting in a delighted smile. She placed a hand on her cheek, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. "Oh, Wolf, you’re just too sweet!" she squealed, her voice lilting with affection.

Conrad glanced between them; his gaze thoughtful. "I didn’t know there was anyone else," he murmured, eyeing Victoria with careful consideration. "No one mentioned you before. I apologize, Victoria."

Victoria huffed loudly, her chin lifting slightly as she stuck her nose up in the air. The playful smirk returned to her lips, more mischievous than before.

"Water under the bridge, I suppose," she said nonchalantly. "I just wanted to see my little Wolf, after all!" She waved her hand dismissively before grabbing both of Wolfram’s hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "So sorry I missed your wedding, darling."

Wolfram’s heart swelled with affection, and a grin tugged at his lips despite himself. He really had missed her, more than he’d realized. Victoria had been a constant presence when he needed someone to turn to, especially during those times of uncertainty, like when he experienced dry heats.

She had been the one to explain that it was natural, that it was a part of life until he and Yuuri could fully consummate their bond. And when they did, his heats had become more regular and easier to bear. He had Thorn and Lucas, of course, but Victoria was the sister he never had.

"It’s alright, Victoria," he said softly, squeezing her hands in return, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I was really worried about you. I thought... I thought I’d hear from you once the news came out about who I am. But then you just disappeared. Where did you go?"

Victoria’s expression shifted to one of regret, her eyes softening. She sighed deeply, as if the weight of her words pressed heavily on her chest.

"I’m really sorry, Wolf. I was in Big Shimaron, and... I got caught up in something. A situation where I couldn’t reach out. But I’m here now," she added, her voice turning lighter as she smiled brightly at him.

"Big Shimaron?" Wolfram asked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Why were you in Big Shimaron?"

Conrad shifted beside Wolfram, his posture growing more tense as he studied Victoria carefully. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his body tight with discomfort but also curiosity. There was something in the way he looked at her, an unease that Wolfram couldn't quite place.

Victoria’s grin widened as she waved her fingers playfully in front of Wolfram’s face, her hand lightly brushing against his cheek. The soft, lingering touch sent a wave of warmth through him, and he hummed contentedly, momentarily lost in the joy of seeing her again. His heart swelled at the thought of how much had changed since they last saw one another.

He was so glad to have her back in his life, he only hoped that the life she now led was better than the one she’d left behind. Since Yuuri had worked tirelessly to change the Omega laws, there was nothing stopping Victoria from doing whatever she pleased, from chasing her own dreams. She was free now, and Wolfram wanted nothing more than for her to live the life she deserved. He had never imagined he would end up mated and married to the Moah, the Moah, of all people, but here he was, living a life that had seemed like a distant dream.

"Wolfram?" The familiar, grounding voice of his husband broke through his thoughts.

Yuuri’s presence was always a comfort, but today, he looked particularly worn. His dark eyes were narrowed in that way they did when he was focused, his black hair a bit ruffled from the whirlwind of his duties.

He looked handsome, of course, but there was a tiredness to his appearance, as though he had just emerged from a long meeting or spent hours buried in paperwork. But even in his exhaustion, he moved swiftly, his steps purposeful as he reached Wolfram’s side.

Yuuri placed himself protectively between Wolfram and Victoria, his hands gently settling on Wolfram’s shoulders, his grip both firm and tender. He turned towards Victoria, his expression softening slightly but still holding an air of quiet concern.

"What’s going on?" Yuuri asked, his voice steady but laced with a touch of impatience. "Wolfram, I thought we agreed you would stay in the gardens." His gaze flickered between Wolfram and Victoria. "Remember what we talked about?"

Wolfram shook his head, his lips pulling into a bright, almost glowing smile as he turned to Yuuri. "It’s alright," he reassured him, his voice light with happiness.

"I’ve got Conrad here with me, and besides, this is Victoria! She’s my friend, just like Thorn and Lucas!" His eyes sparkled as he spoke, the joy of seeing an old friend returning to his life lifting his spirits.

Yuuri blinked, momentarily taken aback. His eyes scanned Victoria for a few heartbeats, suspicion flickering in his gaze, but that quickly faded. His lips curved into a warm, welcoming smile as he softened.

"Ah, so you’re Wolfram’s friend?" Yuuri’s voice had a sweetness to it now, a kindness that made his words even more inviting. "It’s nice to meet you, Victoria."

Victoria bowed gracefully, her arms sweeping out wide as she lowered her body just slightly, a playful glint in her eye.

"Likewise, Heika," she purred, a sugary smile curling at her lips, the red of them almost matching the fiery shade of her curls.

"Call me Yuuri," the Moah quickly replied, a friendly, easy warmth threading through his tone. "If you’re a friend of Wolf, then you’re a friend of mine."

Wolfram’s heart fluttered at the exchange, and a fond smile tugged at his lips. Yuuri’s kindness had always been one of the things he loved most about him. He remembered when they first met Thorn and Lucas, the new memories they had created together.

He had been so touched by how Yuuri had supported their newly revamped inn, which was now a thriving Bed and Breakfast thanks to Thorn’s culinary talents. Wolfram recalled with a deep fondness the last time they had stayed there, Yuuri and him, with Conrad and a few guards by their side, ensuring their safety. It had been a peaceful retreat, and the inn’s popularity had soared, drawing even nobles to visit after hearing about the Moah and Joō’s stay.

But Victoria… she had simply vanished after Wolfram had returned to the castle. He had asked Thorn and Lucas about her, but neither had seen her for months. Not since the Sun-Kissed Parade, a memory Wolfram held close but tinged with concern, as her lifestyle meant she could easily fall out of touch, or worse, be lost to the dangers of the world.

"Why, thank you, Yuuri," Victoria responded, her thick accent ringing out, echoing lightly down the long, polished corridors of the castle.

Yuuri returned her smile just as brightly, his eyes radiating the same friendly warmth. "If you don’t mind me asking, how long will you be in Shin Makoku? I heard you weren’t here long before you left. Is that right?"

Victoria shrugged lightly, a playful glint in her eye as she nodded. "Hmm, only tonight," she answered, her tone light but mysterious. "Tomorrow morning, I’ll be leaving again."

Wolfram’s face fell slightly. "That soon?" he asked, disappointment threading through his voice.

Victoria, ever aware of the shift in his mood, would have likely ruffled his hair or patted him on the head like she used to, but with so many eyes on them, including the presence of his husband, she hesitated. Instead, she took Wolfram’s hand, squeezing it gently.

"I’m afraid I have important things to get back to," she said with a mischievous wink.

The comment sparked Wolfram’s curiosity, but he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded in understanding, then turned his gaze back to her, his heart tugging.

"Why don’t you stay here for the night then?" Wolfram suggested, his voice carrying the sweetness of hope. "I’m supposed to stay somewhere safe, right? And it’s not like I’m doing anything. Having you here, even just for tonight, would be nice. It’ll give me something to do, distract me from making a certain someone’s life hard," he added with a teasing smile, glancing at Yuuri.

"Wolfram," Conrad began, stepping forward, his voice firm but gentle.

Wolfram shook his head, a playful smirk curling at the corner of his lips. "It won’t hurt," he said dismissively, a shrug rolling off his shoulders. "I’m not doing anything wrong, I’ll stay safe, I promise." He looked at Victoria with a warm, inviting smile. "I’d love to have you here."

Yuuri puffed out his cheeks, his fingers nervously scratching the back of his head as he processed the situation. After a long moment, he finally gave a small, reluctant nod, his dark eyes flicking between Wolfram and Victoria. His smile softened, his earlier unease slowly melting away as he fully focused his attention on the woman standing before him.

"Of course," he said quietly, his voice gentle yet reassuring. "You can stay for the night."

Victoria blinked in surprise, her eyes widening slightly. She glanced around, as if unsure whether this kindness was truly meant for her. A sheepish laugh bubbled from her lips.

"That’s very kind," she said, her voice warm. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Wolfram felt a rush of warmth flood through him. His heart swelled with joy, and a flutter of excitement rose from the pit of his stomach, like the wings of a butterfly beating within him. It was the same feeling he got whenever Thorn visited, or when Lucas would occasionally show up. Though, with Lucas, it was usually because he couldn’t resist the allure of Gisela and Anissina, the man was a notorious skirt-chaser, after all.

As the maids returned to their duties, their movements lively and quick, one in a bright green dress hurried over. Her short blonde hair bounced with each step she took, a smile already on her face as she approached. Wolfram’s lips curled into a bright smile in return, and just as he was about to step forward to greet her, something inside him tightened, a sharp pang twisting in his chest. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, and his face twisted with pain.

The sharp ache started low in his stomach, spreading rapidly up to his chest, and then into his head. His vision blurred, and a searing heat radiated from within him, making his entire body shudder. A cry of pain escaped his lips, and he hunched forward, clutching his stomach with shaking hands.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri's voice was full of concern, his gaze widening in alarm as he rushed toward his husband.

Yuuri was at Wolfram’s side in an instant, his movements quick but graceful as he supported Wolfram, his hand steady against the small of his back. The other arm wrapped around Wolfram’s shoulders, pulling him closer. His eyes darkened, filled with worry and a deep sense of protectiveness.

"Wolfram, what’s wrong?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, his worry evident.

Wolfram gasped in another breath; his voice shaky as he struggled to form words. "It hurts! Hurts so much!" His body trembled with each wave of pain; his hands still pressed to his middle as though he could somehow stop the agony.

Yuuri's heart raced. "Hurts?" he repeated, panic creeping into his voice. "We need to take you to Gisela, now."

Before Wolfram could protest, Conrad was there. With little more than a slight flex of his muscles, Conrad lifted Wolfram effortlessly into his arms. Wolfram might have felt a surge of embarrassment, he certainly had when Yuuri had carried him the day before, but right now, he was too overwhelmed by pain to think of anything else. His body curled inward as a horrible, throbbing pain twisted around his middle, making his vision swim.

The world around him spun in a dizzying blur. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out everything but the sharpness of his discomfort. Just as his senses seemed to blur beyond control, a soft glow surrounded him, and the pain began to ebb away, replaced by a strange, empty numbness. Anxiety twisted through him, a strange unease curling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t painful, but it was… uncomfortable.

Wolfram let out a shuddering breath, his eyelids fluttering open as he rubbed his large stomach with a gentle hand. The sensation was foreign, almost alien to him. It was the first time he’d felt so disconnected from his own body, as if it wasn’t quite his anymore.

"Wolfram?" Yuuri’s voice was soft, a gentle lilt of concern threading through his words.

Wolfram hummed faintly in response; his eyes half-lidded as he shifted beneath the white medical wing’s blankets. His lips quivered, and his eyes glazed over with the beginnings of tears that threatened to spill down his face. A wave of vulnerability overtook him, and he shifted slightly, trying to avoid Yuuri’s gaze but unable to stop himself from reaching for his husband’s hand.

"Wolf," Yuuri said again, his voice low and tender as he reached for Wolfram’s hand, holding it tightly in his own. He squeezed it gently, desperate to offer comfort, to make sure Wolfram knew he wasn’t alone.

Wolfram inhaled sharply, his chest tight with emotion, and finally rolled his head to meet Yuuri’s gaze. His voice was a soft whisper, barely audible as he spoke, "Yuuri… I’m scared…" The words felt like they were dragging themselves from the deepest, most fragile part of his soul.

Yuuri’s eyes widened in alarm, his heart aching at the sight of his husband so vulnerable. But as quickly as the shock came, it softened into something tender, his gaze filled with all the love and reassurance he could offer.

"Don’t cry, Wolf," Yuuri murmured, his voice steady but filled with the warmth of his affection. "It’s alright. Gisela said you were just dehydrated."

Wolfram sniffled, shaking his head weakly. "You were right," he murmured, his voice thick with guilt. "I-I should have stayed in the chamber… rested. I’ve put our baby in danger… What if… what if… the baby isn’t okay?"

Yuuri’s heart clenched at the raw emotion in Wolfram’s voice. Without thinking, he brought Wolfram’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. His eyes lingered on their joined hands, the mark of their bond between them, a reminder of their strength as a couple.

"They’re alright," Yuuri said softly, his voice warm and unwavering. "Our baby is strong, I know they are."

Wolfram hiccupped, his lips trembling as he fought back another wave of tears. His nose twitched, and with a quiet, desperate motion, he wiped the tears from his eyes, but they only kept falling.

His bottom lip quivered as he whispered through a shaky breath, "Y-Yeah, our baby is s-strong…" His voice broke as he spoke, and he hiccupped again. "They… they will be o-okay…"

Yuuri nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a quiet, confident warmth. "They will! Just look at their parents," he said with a playful grin. "I'm sure they'll inherit your fighting spirit, Wolf."

"My fighting spirit?" Wolfram scoffed softly, a laugh escaping his lips. "Sure. But you're the Moah, Yuuri. If they get anyone's strength, it’ll definitely be yours."

Yuuri’s grin spread wider, and something in his gaze made Wolfram's cheeks flush a deep pink. "Oh no, you don’t get to pull the 'Moah' card on me, my little wife!" he teased with a twinkle in his eyes.

Wolfram stiffened, bristling with mock indignation. "Don’t call me that," he huffed, narrowing his eyes playfully. "And why not? Since when?"

"Since you unwillingly let, yourself be tied to me," Yuuri winked, his grin growing as he teased further. "It’s a little late to be complaining now."

Wolfram let out a laugh, the sound light and filled with affection. "Unwilling, huh? Of course, you trapped me into marriage after all."

He paused, a sly smile curling on his lips as he eyed his husband with a playful glint. "I thought I put up a pretty good fight, though, even if you did defeat me..." His voice softened, almost a whisper, and his lips quirked in a knowing smile. "You are the Moah, after all."

Yuuri’s expression shifted, and he bristled in mock outrage. "Oh, you sure did! I still have those scratches on my back," he chuckled, "I'm surprised Ken hasn’t made some unsavoury comment about them."

Then, with a sudden move, he leaned in and pressed a sweet kiss to Wolfram's lips, catching him completely off guard. "And I said, you're not allowed to use the Moah card."

Wolfram's face flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet. He let out a soft, shy laugh, his heart racing. His hand gently cupped Yuuri's face, tilting his head back slightly before closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and tender, as Wolfram's hands drifted through Yuuri’s midnight curls. A soft moan escaped him when Yuuri’s lips brushed against his, seeking entry, and his body responded, almost instinctively.

It was embarrassing, despite how long they had been married. The flutter of nervousness never seemed to leave him, even in their quiet moments of affection.

When they finally pulled away, Wolfram’s breath was shaky, his cheeks flushed as he shyly smiled, his gaze dropping to where their hands were still entwined. Yuuri’s thumb was caressing his hand, the touch gentle and loving.

"I love you," Yuuri whispered, his voice soft and full of adoration as he pressed a tender kiss to Wolfram's cheek.

Wolfram bit his bottom lip, a small, sweet gesture of affection. "I love you too, so much..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuuri placed his other hand on Wolfram’s baby bump, rubbing it tenderly, his gaze filled with warmth and something akin to awe.

"Hey, Wolf," he said, his voice low but serious. "I was thinking… we should have a code word for when the baby is coming."

Wolfram blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the idea. "Oh? Um, how about..." He paused for a moment, before almost shouting, "Yuuri! The baby’s coming?!"

Yuuri burst into laughter, rolling his eyes but grinning all the while. "Ha-ha, thanks for making fun of me."

Wolfram giggled, his hand landing on top of Yuuri's as they both gently rested on his bump. "Sorry, sorry. It’s just... the little one’s going to come one way or another, and I’m... nervous about when."

Yuuri nodded seriously, his face shifting to one of determination. "Which is exactly why we need code words!"

He gave a quick nod, almost mechanically. "In case we’re ever separated, like in a meeting or something. Not that I'd ever let you get anywhere near a meeting this close to your due date. after everything that’s happened, anyway, but still, just in case."

Wolfram hummed thoughtfully, gazing at his husband. Then, with a soft smile, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s lips. "Okay, how about ‘peaches’?"

"Peaches?" Yuuri blinked at him, looking completely bewildered.

Wolfram shrugged, his gaze soft and a little shy as he looked down at their hands. "On my first visit to Earth, Mama let me eat an entire fruit basket," he said with a small, wistful smile.

"Since then, she’s always bringing me peaches. I miss them sometimes..." he admitted, his voice dropping slightly, almost embarrassed by the admission. His toes curled in the soft, vulnerable way he felt speaking this truth to Yuuri.

"Peaches..." Yuuri trailed off, his voice filled with a softness that was almost incredulous. "You should’ve told me! If I’d known, I could have brought you all sorts of peaches! We probably have some in the kitchen. I can go get them if you want?"

Wolfram shook his head stubbornly, his lips curling into a small, fond smile. "No... I mean, I only like the ones from Earth. I know they’re a strange colour, orange, but they’re sweeter," he mumbled, a little shy about the sentiment but not enough to hide it.

Yuuri stared at him, his heart swelling with both understanding and affection. "I know," he said softly. "The ones here... the pink ones... they’re sour. You don’t like them." His eyes softened as he gently cupped Wolfram’s cheek, a quiet but tender moment shared between them.

And for a moment, it felt as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of them, together, understanding each other more deeply than ever before.

"Wolfram!" Yuuri whined, his voice tinged with frustration as he leaned forward, gently cupping Wolfram's face in his hands. His dark eyes searched his husband’s, full of concern and a hint of playful reproach. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have gotten you as many orange peaches as you wanted! It would’ve been no trouble at all!"

Wolfram flushed, his fingers nervously fidgeting in his lap. "I didn't want to bother you... you were already so busy with Shouri-Oniisan becoming the Moah of Earth and all," he admitted quietly, his gaze drifting away. "Besides, Mama always has plenty of peaches for me when I visit. It wasn’t that big of a deal."

Yuuri's face scrunched up in disapproval as he pouted, puffing out his cheeks with a soft grumble. "First of all, don’t call him Oniisan! I can't believe he’s got you saying that," he huffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "And second, I’m your husband, Wolfram! You would never bother me! I'm supposed to get you anything you want, anything you desire! If you want peaches, I’ll get them for you, no matter where they come from, even if they’re from another dimension!"

Wolfram’s cheeks deepened into a bright blush. "Yuuri..." he murmured, almost embarrassed by the earnestness in his husband’s words.

Yuuri leaned in, brushing his lips quickly against Wolfram’s in a light kiss. "Anything. Anything you want, anything you crave, tell me. If you don’t, I’ll just end up bringing you Ma’s cold spaghetti!" he teased, his voice serious but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Wolfram’s expression shifted to one of discomfort as he winced. "Spaghetti?" He grimaced, recalling the way Miko had once made it when she couldn’t prepare curry. He couldn’t stand the tomatoes and minced beef, and when it was cold... Wolfram shuddered at the thought. He’d never understood how Yuuri could enjoy leftover spaghetti.

"You’re making me spoiled..." Wolfram mumbled softly, a faint whimper in his voice.

Yuuri grinned widely, a look of pure joy on his face. "I want to spoil you! You’re my mate after all!"

A fond smile curved on Wolfram’s lips as he buried his face into Yuuri's neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his Alpha. It was a scent that made his heart race, and his hands instinctively curl into the soft fabric of Yuuri's dark clothing. Yuuri, sensing the shift, immediately wrapped his arms around his small, pregnant Omega.

"I’ve been craving Mama’s curry," Wolfram admitted shyly, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting Yuuri’s with a touch of hesitation.

"Curry?" Yuuri repeated with a gentle smile, the expression on his face sweet and filled with warmth. He pulled away just enough to look down at his husband, his eyes lighting up. "I can do that! Curry? Yes, I can get you curry!"

In a flash, Yuuri sprang off the bed, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste. "If I leave now, I can totally be back in a couple of hours! Three hours tops! It’s a Wednesday too, so I’m sure Mum’s already been cooking it anyway!" he rambled excitedly.

"No!" Wolfram whined, quickly latching onto Yuuri’s wrist to pull him back before he could truly rush out of the room. "Yuuri! I don’t want it right now!"

Yuuri blinked, staring at Wolfram with wide, dark eyes, his lips parting in surprise. "Oh..." he murmured, not expecting the sudden change.

Wolfram puffed out his cheeks in a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "I-I mean... I just want you to stay with me... if that’s alright." His voice faltered, and his words stumbled out in quick succession, his nerves getting the best of him. "I... If you have too much work and... and need to go back to the office, then…”

"Shibuya Wolfram," Yuuri interrupted, his tone playful yet full of affection as he silenced his anxious Omega with a quick kiss. "I’ll stay with you for as long as you want."

Wolfram’s face flushed a deep shade of crimson at hearing his full, married title. It still felt strange, a little foreign, and it always made his stomach flutter with both nervousness and excitement. It was the name the nobles used, the formal one, and it somehow held more weight than the name he'd grown up with, Wolfram von Bielefeld. Shibuya Wolfram was a name of status, a title wrapped in respect... and embarrassment.

"Sorry-sorry, I’m just teasing," Yuuri laughed, his voice light and full of affection. "I just love seeing your expressions."

Wolfram pouted, lightly swatting Yuuri’s shoulder. "Ha-ha, real funny. I... I can’t help how embarrassed I get," he mumbled, a small shrug following as he tried to hide the warmth creeping up his neck.

"It’s a beautiful thing," Yuuri said, his voice tender as he hugged his Omega tightly. "I love seeing how red your face can get."

Wolfram hummed, the corner of his lips curling upward in a soft smile. "I don’t remember you being this cruel before we married," he teased lightly.

Yuuri gasped dramatically, crawling back onto the bed with a playful grin. Wolfram shifted over to make room for him, and as Yuuri climbed onto the bed beside him, he shot his Omega a cheeky grin.

"Me? Cruel?" Yuuri replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How dare you! I think you’ll find I am the greatest, kindest Moah ever!"

Wolfram chuckled softly, feeling the warmth of Yuuri’s presence settle around him, the tension melting away as they shared this quiet, tender moment together. It was a moment that felt as if time itself had paused, just for the two of them, and all that mattered was the love they shared.

Wolfram let out a soft, melodic giggle, his eyes twinkling with affection. He rolled toward Yuuri, snuggling into him as if drawn by an invisible force, resting his head gently against Yuuri’s chest. A warm sigh escaped his lips as he pressed the lightest kiss over the soft fabric of Yuuri's shirt, just above his heart. In response, Yuuri leaned down, placing a tender kiss on top of Wolfram's head, his lips lingering for a brief moment. Wolfram's eyes fluttered half-closed, and he sniffled tiredly, the weight of his growing bump making it difficult to get any closer, but he nestled as close as he could, seeking the comfort only Yuuri could provide.

“I feel like you’re just tracing the echoes of your thoughts there,” Wolfram murmured sleepily, his voice soft and drowsy.

Yuuri’s hand gently brushed along the curve of Wolfram’s baby bump, his fingers moving with slow affection.

“Isn’t that how we ended up in this situation?” he replied, his tone teasing but filled with warmth.

Wolfram snorted with laughter, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes despite the exhaustion settling into his body.

“How long have you been holding onto that one?” he asked, his words playful yet sleepy.

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly grinning. “Too long,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Ken. He’s rubbing off on me.”

Wolfram yawned deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. He nuzzled into the dark fabric of Yuuri’s shirt, the scent of his Alpha’s presence calming him as he spoke in a whisper, “I love you just the way you are... don’t ever change, Yuuri,” his words trailing off as he drifted closer to sleep.

Yuuri’s smile softened, his hand gently caressing the small of Wolfram’s back.

“I love you too, Wolf,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath, as he held his beloved Omega close, the world outside their little bubble fading into nothingness.