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Like ink on paper, beautiful but horrifying red liquid seeped into the white snow, reflecting the dim moonlight that shone across the ivory blanket like glitter. Wolfram's body lay almost lifeless in the powdery snow.
His honey blonde hair was strewn in all directions from his head as if they were rays of the sun itself—like the crown of an angel.
With each trembling exhale, his breath would be visible as vapour, escaping his parted lips, and slowly becoming weaker, fading….
It was as if with every breath, the life left within his body dispersed into the air. He was far too weak to move in his current state, but if he could, he wanted to kiss his left ring finger and what was wrapped around it.
Wolfram's eyes weld up with unshed tears. He mustered up all of the strength he had left and muttered one final, “I'm sorry…Yuuri,” before his eyes became an empty shell and his blood ran cold. As if it could only be true if he'd said it out loud even though there was no one to hear it.
It was only a few mere minutes later when his body was discovered. Yuuri had found him.
The demon king and his vessels searched everywhere in the snow covered Kingdom without rest for hours upon hours. They'd noticed he was missing only that morning when Yuuri woke up with his lover nowhere to be found.
Yuuri in particular, had been the most frantic in his search. Every corner of the Kingdom and its surrounding area were turned upside down for his fiancé.
And there he was, right in front of him, but it was too late.
Even at a glance one could tell this body was nothing but a corpse, his chest was too still. Yet Yuuri couldn't believe his beloved Wolfram was dead.
He dropped on his knees next to his angel whose skin was paler than the snow, and whose eyes were duller than the shiny emerald gems they so closely resembled.
Yuuri tried covering the flowing wound, he shook his shoulders and took Wolfram's cold and stiff hands in his. He even prayed to the Great One to grant his one and only wish.
“Please Wolf…wake up.”
It was all for naught.
Wolfram's pale skin and blonde hair blended in smoothly with the snow, almost camouflaging him. Only the sickly red liquid that seeped out of his wound in his heart contrasted the white.
Yuuri wasn't the one with a dagger in his chest yet why did the sight make it feel as though he'd been the one with a gaping hole in his heart?
He felt a wet sensation on his cheek, the cold winter breeze stung him as it brushed against his tear streaked face. He didn't bother wiping it away.
The demon king couldn't bring himself to remove his hands from his lover's. Hands that bore a small piece of jewelry on one of his fingers.
It was a ring.
A promise ring to be specific, one that Yuuri gifted Wolfram only a week earlier when he'd promised to finally get married sometime later that month.
On Earth today would be January 31st…
Whenever Wolfram was alone, he'd always start muttering to himself, going into great detail about what their wedding would be like. And on multiple occasions, Yuuri had overheard this endearing tendency.
Wolfram had always loved winter.
He'd heard one time that Wolfram wanted to get married around that time of year because he thought the fluttering of snowflakes reminded him of life's beauty, and how it contrasted with Yuuri’s dark hair and eyes, made him stand out more, “easier to look at.” as he said.
But now, Wolfram was no longer in this world. His fiancé was dead.
The man he'd spent years loving…
The sound of crunching snow beneath heavy footsteps was heard behind Yuuri and Wolfram's still bodies. The demon king was in such a shameful position, hunching and shivering over a corpse. It was almost pitiful, and if not for who his majesty was kneeling over, Conrad would have asked his Highness to immediately stand up.
“Yuuri! Have you found him—” Conrart froze, not daring to move another step after recognizing the corpse. He wanted nothing more than to run up to his half brother and take him in his arms, but he didn't.
A long silence persisted.
Nothing was exchanged between the two. There was nothing to be said, nothing that could be said.
No amount of words could express the amount of sheer despair Yuuri was feeling right in that moment, not a sentence that could describe his pain.
But really, it didn’t matter. Everything became meaningless the moment he saw his beloved without a pulse.
The void of emotion slowly bubbled up, cascading deep within him into every corner of his heart, into the very fibers of his being. The nothingness became so great that it turned into something—into an amalgamation of everything, all at once.
He had to do something—anything, or he feared he would never be the same again. So, as his emptiness flushed all emotions out of him, there was room for more. He started to feel again.
One single emotion roared within him, drowning and overtaking all else. At that moment, he came to an understanding and acceptance of what he would do.
He was going to kill.
“Conrart.” His voice carried a physical weight to it. It was heavy and uneven.
“Yes, Yuuri.” He responded without skipping a beat, remembering to call him by his majesty's real name for once.
The demon king—with all the gentleness he was capable of giving—slowly and carefully removed the dagger piercing Wolfram's heart. Yet his voice held no warmth. “Take him back to the castle.”
Conrart didn't waste a second and was gone with his body within the minute.
Yuuri was willing to go to great lengths to find this murderer. If needed, he would even bring the blade back to earth for a forensic scientist to analyse. But with a single glance at the weapon, he realIed it wasn't at all necessary. He traced the carving on the handle and knew exactly which maniac he was going to kill. A name surfaced in his mind and felt disgusting to even think let alone say.
Nigel Wiez Maxine.
That dirty playing, wretched fool. There was absolutely no possible way for Wolfram to go down without a fight, and yet looking at the scene of his death, there were no signs of struggle.
Nigel must've pulled something, like an ambush or something—no.
It didn't matter what he did. Because his lover was dead, and Nigel was going to die by his hand and by the same dagger he used to take Wolfram's life.
Yuuri gripped the blade's handle with such force it almost snapped in half. His knuckles turned white and the air around him started to shift. The ground beneath him shook violently surmounting to that of an earthquake, wind assaulted him from all angles. Yuuri's hair grew to a length just below his shoulders, his magic was fueled by nothing but rage.
With a single twitch of his finger, a massive shockwave blasted the ground, creating a sort of hunting radar, similar to a bat's echolocation. Yuuri shut his eyes, focusing on the signals and images he was receiving.
He got shapes of trees, rocks, animals, and even insects if he focused hard enough, until finally, a person. He immediately knew it was that mullet headed freak trying to run away like a little coward. Yuuri tapped his foot on the ground, a large radius cracked beneath him as he put more force into it, forming a crater the size of spinning helicopter blades. Within a fraction of a second, he was gone.
And another fraction of a second later, he appeared beside the fleeing Nigel.
“You.” The bloodlust in his voice was so great it forced the murderer to drop down and kneel, just as such a lowly killer like him should while facing a king.
A face of terror bloomed on his visage upon seeing the demon king. He couldn't stop shaking, knowing that retribution had tracked him down— the karma for his sins. Dread filled his impure heart, further blackening the already infected soul.
The devil had found him.
A gust of wind attacked Nigel's eyes, he blinked then felt weird. His gaze drifted down to his chest and suddenly, there was a dagger piercing into where his heart should've been.
He tried screaming out but his throat produced no sound. Nigel's windpipe was destroyed, his trachea shattered into tiny bits of cartilage and bone. It grated the inside of his throat like pieces of glass and rolls of sandpaper, the more he tried to shout out in pain, the worse his suffering got.
Slowly but surely, the fight left him and the man died. There was no burial, there was no one trying to find him. He was alone, reflecting on the pitiful life he led. Yuuri's power died down and his hair returned back to its normal length.
He didn't pass out this time, he floated back to the ground and turned away. Yuuri took his time walking back to the castle, not sparing the thief of his happiness a single glance. Nigel would freeze, thaw, and rot, without a single person by his side. It was what he deserved.
On the lengthy journey back home, Yuuri had some time to think.
That was the first time he'd killed someone ever. But guilt never got its clutch on him, he did feel guilty, just not for that guy.
Yuuri was usually the soft one, sparing everyone's lives no matter the crime. He always believed in second chances, with Wolfram often being the one who told him otherwise, to be tougher, to be harsher with the punishments. That Yuuri was too lenient with the criminals, and he was right.
Yuuri had even given Nigel a second chance and look how that ended up. Too bad Yuuri would only listen now that Wolfram was gone thanks to his idiocy.
As he reached the castle, he wanted to cry, he wanted to break down right on the entrance steps but he couldn't. The freezing air outside didn't let the tears form, or maybe it was the coldness of his heart that only beat fast enough to barely keep him alive.
Günter met him at the castle entrance. Even he knew that at this moment, it wasn't the time for his usual dramatic theatrics. He stayed quiet and solemn, skipping his typical worrying over his wellbeing. Because clearly, even without asking, he was not doing well. He only opened his mouth to speak once.
“Right this way your majesty.” Günter led Yuuri to the room in which Wolfram was kept and let him enter on his own. Giving him some time alone with his betrothed.
He peered into the delicate white coffin, fitting for Wolf's angelic appearance. He looked so peaceful laying there as if he were only sleeping.
Yuuri held his hand once more, fiddling with the promise ring, slipping it off his finger. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a case. He flipped it open to reveal a pristine gold and diamond wedding ring, with emeralds embedded as details.
It was supposed to be their wedding day today.
Yuuri guided the new ring on Wolfram's finger, fitting perfectly on the base. He'd planned for a really long time to have their moment be special, he had everything planned out, he was sure Wolf would have loved it. He placed one last kiss on it.
“I’m sorry…my dear husband.” Once again, he apologized out loud as if someone could hear him. Just like the apology muttered with Wolfram's dying breath, the words fell on deaf ears.
His eyes drifted to the only window in the room…little white snowflakes had started falling from the sky like stars. It was a beautiful sight.
Yuuri had never hated winter more.