Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You know, when we get married, we will need to have sex.”

The words hung heavily in the royal chamber. The silence that followed was suffocating.

Well, it was already an intense situation for both, though they appeared to be experiencing it in entirely different ways. One seemed almost amused by the circumstances, while the other quickly began to pale.

Wolfram’s cherry lips twisted into a thin, trembling line as he shot the standing Demon King a vicious glare.

“What?” he demanded harshly. “Why?”

“It’s customary, isn’t it?” Yuuri shrugged, tilting his head slightly to one side. His lips curled into that familiar, eerie smile.

The smile Wolfram knew everyone had mistaken for innocence.

“I don’t want to do that,” Wolfram muttered after a long moment of struggling to force the words from his throat.

“Gisela will perform a body examination the following morning. There isn’t any way to hide it if we don’t,” Yuuri pointed out coolly.

Wolfram’s cheeks burned. His shoulders curled inward, and he lowered his head. He refused to look in the Soukoku’s direction. Instead, he tried to make himself smaller against the edge of the large, deep-black bed, as though taking up less space might somehow make him less noticeable.

His fingers twisted desperately into the soft cotton of the quilts. He didn’t want to cry, not again. And certainly not in front of Yuuri. His eyes were sore and swollen from the tears he had already shed. He could still feel the ache behind them, the burning pressure threatening to spill over once more.

Wolfram refused to cry again. He refused to give Yuuri another sign of weakness.

A deep sigh escaped Yuuri as he crossed his arms.

“Really, Wolf?” he murmured. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

“You promised it wouldn’t get this far,” Wolfram snapped, his voice cracked. “You said that if I behaved and didn’t try anything, you would break the engagement.”

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, then he slowly shook his head, “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“So?” Wolfram ground his teeth together, his nails digging deeper into the quilts, “You broke your word.”

“I know I said that.” Yuuri clicked his tongue and took a slow step closer, then another.

Wolfram tried not to flinch when Yuuri sat down beside him. He was too close. Their thighs were almost touching.

“And I know you kept your word,” Yuuri continued calmly. “You’ve been on your best behaviour.”

His voice softened, it became gentled. The change was immediate. It was the voice Wolfram recognised from outside these chambers. The sweet, warm voice Yuuri used when speaking to his people. The voice everyone trusted, everyone blindly followed. The tone of voice Yuuri used on Wolfram’s own family and friends. The voice Yuuri used to manipulate any situation he pleased.

Wolfram’s stomach twisted violently. He blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back, he knew what Yuuri was doing. He knew exactly what he was trying to do. And Wolfram wasn’t sure whether he had the strength left to resist him.

“But you also know why I can’t break our engagement anymore,” Yuuri said sweetly. He tilted his head forward, catching Wolfram’s gaze and then he smiled. “It wouldn’t make sense if I did.”

“No. It is because you’re lazy,” Wolfram muttered. There was no real venom behind the insult anymore, his voice was quiet. It was flat.

“Not lazy, per se,” Yuuri hummed softly and shrugged. He then flashed his dazzling, large smile, “I’m simply not as stupid as everyone seems to think I am. As you know.”

“It’s easier to marry you when you already know all about my secrets. I can be my real self around you.” Yuuri leaned back slightly, watching Wolfram carefully. “I think it would be difficult to find someone else who would accept me for who I am.”

His smile sharpened, “Someone who wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Wolfram let out a bitter snort. Not tell anyone? As though he had ever had a choice. The one-time Wolfram had tried to threaten Yuuri with exposing his secret, the Demon King had twisted the entire situation around him. He had manipulated it and turned Wolfram’s own threat into the cage he now found himself trapped inside.

That was how all of this had begun. Wolfram had threatened to expose Yuuri, only to end up in this engagement to begin with.  Wolfram should have kept his mouth shut. He should have continued doing his best to avoid the new King. If he had, perhaps he wouldn’t be sitting here now, panicking over his wedding night and everything that was supposed to follow.

“Oh, come on, Wolf.” Yuuri rolled his dark eyes and lightly nudged his shoulder against Wolfram’s.

Wolfram jumped and Yuuri bit back a laugh.

“It won’t be that bad.” His tone was almost teasing. “If I do my role correctly, we might even have a child in nine months.”

Wolfram’s face immediately flushed. He finally shot Yuuri a furious look, the thought of being knocked up made him uneasy. “We already have Greta.”

“Well, I have Greta, actually,” Yuuri smoothly pointed out and raised a calming hand. Despite Wolfram flinching away from him, Yuuri gently brushed the soft golden curls behind Wolfram’s ear.

“Besides,” Yuuri whispered, “Don’t you think it would be interesting?”

His fingers lingered against Wolfram’s hair, “To see what sort of child we could create?”

Yuuri brushed his fingers along Wolfram’s rosy cheek. A loose tear slipped free, Yuuri caught it with his thumb.

“I wonder if they would be blonde like you. I hope they would have your green eyes and—”

“I hope they’re not a manipulative bastard who hides behind being innocent and naïve to get whatever they want.” Wolfram hissed the words sharply. His wet green eyes narrowed as he tried to summon his most vicious glare.

Normally, it would have been enough. Normal Mazoku would have immediately backed away. They would have lowered their heads and hurried to get out of his path, but Yuuri was not normal. Yuuri was as far from normal as someone could possibly be.

For a moment, the Soukoku’s face became completely blank. His enormous black eyes widened. They were so impossibly round, innocent and just so naïve. Exactly as everyone believed him to be but then something shifted. The corners of his eyes crinkled and a dark glimmer flickered behind them.

Yuuri leaned back and laughed.

A sharp bark of amusement escaped him before the laughter deepened. Genuine joy twisted across his face as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Whoa,” Yuuri grinned. “I honestly do love you, Wolf.”

Wolfram rolled his eyes and scoffed weakly, “I doubt someone like you can love.”

“Hmm,” Yuuri considered that, “Probably not.”

He leaned against Wolfram. His head rested lightly against the blonde Mazoku’s.

“But what I feel for you comes ridiculously close to it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Wolfram’s voice was sharp, though he tried desperately to ignore the pressure of Yuuri’s body against his.

“That’s fine,” Yuuri’s voice dropped, it became soft and quiet. So dangerously close that Wolfram stiffened, “You don’t need to believe me.”

His warm breath brushed against Wolfram’s skin, “It doesn’t matter whether you do or not.”

Wolfram shivered despite himself.

“What matters,” Yuuri continued, deliberately whispering the words, “Is whether everyone else believes that I, Yuuri Shibuya, the Twenty-Seventh Demon King, am hopelessly and completely in love with Wolfram von Bielefeld.”

Wolfram tensed. His fingers twisted tighter into the quilts; he bit down hard on his bottom lip. The tears were beginning to fall now.

“And, of course,” Yuuri continued, his voice almost cheerful, “Everyone needs to believe that my Joō is just as excited about our upcoming wedding as I am.”

Yuuri’s lips slowly curled into a pleased smirk. As though everything was finally falling exactly where he wanted it, like the final pieces of a game he had carefully constructed were clicking into place. One by one, leaving Wolfram nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“Right, my Kōgō Heika?” Yuuri’s voice lowered, the title rolled from his tongue with deliberate intimacy.

Wolfram said nothing. Instead, he decided that silence was safer, it seemed to satisfy Yuuri. Because what else could Wolfram do? Everyone in Blood Plague Castle already sees Yuuri one way and strongly believes another about their relationship, if Wolfram could even call it one.

The Demon King rose from the bed and stretched his arms above his head. The black Gakuran jacket he wore lifted slightly, revealing the white dress shirt beneath as the fabric creased. He was so calm and relaxed, so mellowed out, as if everything was going the way he wanted it too. Which, Wolfram truly believed it was. Yuuri seemed to always get what he wants.

And just like clockwork, everyday as if Yuuri knew, which Wolfram strongly believe he did, Yuuri changed. It was almost frightening how easily he did it, like flipping a switch. The darkness vanished; the calculating expression disappeared. His face softened and his eyes brightened.

The Demon King Wolfram knew vanished beneath the version everyone else believed in. Wolfram watched him from beneath his long eyelashes. He hurriedly wiped the tears from his face.

Yuuri’s expression melted into that familiar, warm and slightly aloof smile. Like a perfect mask, he alone had created and built.

“Heika! Heika!” Someone shouted from the other side of the door. Their tone filled with love and affection for the Demon King, yet held an edge of hurt, “Why have you locked the door this morning?”

“Just a moment, Günter!” Yuuri called easily. “Wolf and I aren’t decent yet.”

Wolfram sucked in a sharp breath. He immediately turned his gaze away as Yuuri began to rebutton his Gakuran with a soft, cheerful hum.

How could he lie so easily? How could he smile while doing it? How could he use such an scandalise excuse?

Wolfram didn’t think he would ever understand.

“Heika!” Günter wailed from the other side of the door. He sounded absolutely horrified by what Yuuri had so innocently suggested. “You are not even married yet!”

“Don’t worry, Günter. It’s fine.”

Yuuri unlocked the door and pulled it open, allowing the flamboyant man inside.

“Wolfram and I are due to marry next week,” He tilted his head perfectly. “It shouldn’t matter what we do in the meantime, right?”

Another naïve smile.

“But, Heika!” Günter began to protest, large tears dramatically beginning to prick at the corner of his eyes. “If the nobles find out-“

“We were only talking about our wedding, right, Wolf?” Yuuri turned, his smile remained perfectly sweet. Perfectly warm, perfectly convincing, with no darkness or maliciousness underneath it.

Günter would never see what Wolfram sees. Nobody would ever see the real Yuuri, nobody would ever learn who their beloved Heika really is.

“We’re both just so excited.”

Wolfram swallowed thickly. His lips trembled; he didn’t dare look at Yuuri. Instead, he lowered his eyes and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Because he had learned silence was safer, agreeing was safer. Wolfram had learned that lesson the hard way, one too many times.

Yuuri always had everything perfectly planned. He wasn’t as aloof or naïve as everyone believed him to be. Behind that innocent smile and those wide, trusting eyes, Yuuri was always thinking. Always watching, always waiting. He had traps everywhere. And perhaps, if Wolfram behaved, if he stopped fighting, if he stopped pushing, if he simply gave Yuuri exactly what he wanted, then maybe, somehow, there would still be a way out.

Perhaps Yuuri would eventually grow bored of him, perhaps he would change his mind…But deep down, Wolfram already knew the truth. The door had been locked long before Yuuri had ever reached for the key. After all, as Yuuri had so kindly pointed out, it would be such a pain to start from the beginning with another person when he already had Wolfram.

There was no need to go searching for a Kōgō Heika when he already had Wolfram exactly where he wanted him.

Of course, that had not always been Yuuri’s plan. Originally, he had intended to keep his word. After a year or two, assuming Wolfram remained on his best behaviour and never dared to expose Yuuri’s carefully constructed persona, Yuuri had planned to break the engagement. And Wolfram had done everything asked of him, he had behaved. He had played the role of Yuuri’s fiancé perfectly.

He had smiled when expected to smile. He had stood beside Yuuri when expected to stand beside him. He had defended him, praised him, argued with him and played the part of the fiery, devoted fiancé so convincingly that nobody questioned it.

He had fallen with him.

In fact, it had helped Yuuri immensely. The engagement had only strengthened Yuuri’s carefully crafted image. Not only had the people within the castle fallen further in love with their new Demon King, but the people beyond Shin Makoku’s walls had as well.

Yuuri had been charming, kind. Of course, being a little naïve, a little foolish, never hurt anyone. Everything had been going exactly as planned and Yuuri was supposed to break the engagement. He had promised Wolfram that he would and for a long time, Yuuri genuinely believed that he would keep his word.

Until one careless conversation with his Great Sage. It had been nothing more than a passing comment, a joke. Murata had been teasing him, as usual. He had made some ridiculous remark about Yuuri locking Wolfram down because nobody else in their right mind would ever be willing to put up with him.

It had only been a joke between friends, a carefree attempt to irritate Yuuri. But something about those words had stayed with him. Nobody else would put up with him and Yuuri had laughed at the time. Then later, when he was alone, he had started thinking.

And once Yuuri began thinking, it became increasingly difficult to stop. Murata had been right in a way.

Wolfram had been the first person to see through him. The first person to look at Yuuri and realise that something was wrong, with only one glance, Wolfram had noticed it. Noticed something nobody else had ever noticed. Not Yuuri’s parents, not his brother, not Conrad, Gwendal, Günter or even Murata himself. Nobody had seen what Wolfram did with one look. Nobody saw Yuuri pretending. He was hiding behind the image of an innocent, naïve and slightly foolish young King.

Wolfram knew who he really was.

At first, Yuuri had found it irritating then amusing. Eventually, it became thrilling. Maybe not for Wolfram but Yuuri had enjoyed it because it was new and exciting. Their engagement meant that they were forced to spend more time together, more private conversations. More opportunities for Yuuri to drop the mask, more moments when he could simply be himself. And, strangely enough, Yuuri had grown accustomed to it, accustomed to Wolfram knowing. Accustomed to not needing to carefully measure every word or expression when they were alone.

He could smile without wondering whether it looked too cruel. He could make plans without pretending they were accidents, he could let the darkness beneath his carefully constructed persona show. And Wolfram would simply stare at him because he knew. That was the important part.

Yuuri had gotten a taste of what it was like to be known, truly known. And he had realised something rather unfortunate; he didn’t want to give it up. Because how, exactly, was Yuuri supposed to find himself a Joō? A Demon Queen? When Wolfram was already standing right in front of him.

When Wolfram already knew his secret. When Wolfram already knew exactly who Yuuri Shibuya really was.

There was no point in finding someone else. No point in revealing his true nature to another person and hoping that they would accept the real Twenty-Seventh Demon King. And there was certainly no point in marrying someone else only to continue hiding his true self behind closed doors.

Yuuri had already experienced what it was like not to hide. He had already experienced the freedom of being himself around someone. And he hated the thought of giving that up. He hated the idea of spending the rest of his life pretending for twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Especially with the person who would become his Joō, the person he was supposed to grow old with, have children with the person who was supposed to sit on the throne with him.

No. That simply would not do.

It made far more sense to marry Wolfram, to make him his Joō. His Kōgō Heika. Sure, Wolfram was upset about it now, but he would get used to it. Eventually, Yuuri had no doubt about that. It wasn’t as though he intended to change his mind and it certainly wasn’t as though he intended to let Wolfram go.

After all, it really was Wolfram’s fault. He had been the one to see through Yuuri, the one to discover the truth. The one person Yuuri could be himself around. And now that Yuuri had realised how convenient Wolfram truly was, how could he possibly be expected to start all over again?

No.

Wolfram had already been chosen, Yuuri simply hadn't realised it until the point he was meant to break the engagement like he promised. And by the time Wolfram understood that the cage had already been built around him.

It had all started with a look.

One small look, one little glance. And suddenly, all the mocking remarks, the annoyance and disbelief that had been sitting so comfortably on Wolfram’s tongue had dissolved. It had been a few years ago now. Looking back, it seemed so small compared to everything that had happened since. A single moment that should have meant nothing, but it had meant something.

Wolfram simply hadn’t realised it at the time. Back then, Wolfram had been many things. He had been something other than the Maō Heika’s Joō. Something other than the fiancé of the Demon King.

He had been Wolfram von Bielefeld.

The youngest son of Cäcilie von Spitzweg, the previous Demon Queen. The fiery youngest prince of Shin Makoku, whose temper was infamous throughout the castle. A talented soldier with enough arrogance to fill an entire ballroom and enough pride to ensure that nobody ever dared tell him otherwise.

Wolfram had worked hard within the military, very hard. He had even earned his own small team. Granted, Wolfram had always suspected that the position had been given to him simply to keep him occupied, and, more importantly, quiet, but that did not mean he appreciated anyone suggesting it.

It was still his team and that meant something.

While his talent with a sword paled in comparison to others, particularly Conrad, much to Wolfram’s everlasting irritation, his ability with magic was undeniable. His flames were powerful. Wolfram had spent years learning to control them, and he was rather proud of how much stronger he had become.

He had so much going for him. Or, at least, he had thought so. Then the news arrived. A Soukoku had appeared within Shin Makoku and the entire castle had gone mad. Servants whispered in the corridors. Nobles gathered in groups to speculate. Soldiers exchanged rumours whenever they thought nobody important was listening.

Everyone had suddenly become fascinated by this mysterious newcomer and of course, Wolfram had been curious too. Naturally, he simply refused to become ridiculous about it.

Unlike everyone else. Apparently, this new Soukoku was destined to become the next Demon King.

Black hair and black eyes. The mark of a Soukoku. And since nobody within Shin Makoku had ever been born a Soukoku, there was only one explanation for his sudden appearance. He had come from the other world.

The arrival of a Soukoku was considered an unmistakable sign, a new Demon King. A new beginning. Of course, there were other ways for a ruler to be chosen. Wolfram’s own mother had been selected by the spirits of the past.

But a Soukoku? A Soukoku was different. Their appearance was a declaration from fate itself. The next Heika had arrived. A Soukoku was someone with black hair and black eyes. A Soukoku can only be a Moah.

Wolfram had not been particularly pleased. His mother was no longer the reigning Kōgō Heika, and with the arrival of a new Demon King, the title had officially passed on. Everything was changing and Wolfram hated change when it did not happen on his terms.

Gwendal had immediately sent Conrad out to search for the Soukoku. He had deployed soldiers throughout Shin Makoku, search parties, scouts and riders. Everyone, it seemed, had been given something important to do, everyone except Wolfram. At first, Wolfram had been furious, he wanted to be useful. More importantly, he wanted to be included.

And when the news finally arrived that Conrad had found the Soukoku. Well, of course Conrad had found him. Conrad always found everything first, didn’t he? Wolfram had spent the entire day being ignored, dismissed and pushed aside in favour of this mysterious stranger.

By the time the gates of Blood Pledge Castle opened, and Conrad finally returned, Wolfram was already in a foul mood. He had been waiting near the main entrance, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently against the stone floor. Then the riders appeared, Conrad was at the front. Behind him came the soldiers. There, riding upon the royal horse as though he belonged there was the Soukoku.

Wolfram narrowed his eyes; the horse was magnificent. With black fur and a white marking upon its face. The sort of horse that never allowed anyone to ride it. The royal horse, the king’s horse. Or apparently clueless strangers who had somehow stumbled into becoming Demon King. The Soukoku held several bunches of pink and purple roses in his arms.

Wolfram stared, then stared harder. That was the new Heika?

The boy looked completely lost. His head was tilted to one side, his thick black hair tousled by the wind. His eyes were impossibly large and round, filled with apparent confusion as he looked around at the enormous castle before him. He looked like every part of a sweet, bewildered boy who had accidentally wandered into Shin Makoku and had no idea how to leave again.

Wolfram watched as the horse came to a stop. The Soukoku shifted in the saddle and turned, clearly intending to climb down.

Conrad immediately moved forward, Günter did the same. Both offered to help him, the Soukoku only smiled.

A sweet, bright smile, “No, honestly, I can manage!”

He attempted to climb down himself, but his foot caught in the reins. And he fell, straight onto his backside. The roses scattered around him; pink and purple petals spilled across the stone courtyard.

It looked like a complete accident. At the time, Wolfram thought it really was an accident. Later, he’d understand it was everything but an accident. Something Yuuri had done on purpose, to lay the foundations of his persona. Of whom he wanted everyone to see him as. But at the time, none the wiser, Wolfram slowly raised an eyebrow.

What a wimp.

“Heika, are you all right?” Gwendal approached the group calmly, one hand reaching towards the horse to gently stroke its neck.

“Easy,” he murmured to the animal. “You’re all right.”

“Heika?” The dark-haired boy froze, “Heika?”

His eyes widened, becoming glassy. His voice cracked at precisely the right moment.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, voice trembled, “I’m not a king. I’m not Your Majesty.”

Wolfram frowned. Something about it was strange, he didn’t know why. But it was. The feeling crawled beneath his skin. It made all the hairs on his body stand on end. He tilted his head and crossed his arms.

No. That was ridiculous. He was probably just irritated, actually, no. He was definitely irritated. He had spent the entire day being ignored because everyone was too busy obsessing over this clumsy idiot.

That had to be it.

“Don’t tell me that he’s the new Heika?” Wolfram raised his voice as he began approaching them.

He ignored that strange feeling, shrugged it away. He must have been imagining things. Now that this person had arrived, Wolfram would no longer be important, not in the way he had been before. And that irritated him more than he cared to admit. He stopped in front of the Soukoku and glared down at him, unimpressed.

The Soukoku stared back and for one brief second, Wolfram stopped breathing. Something moved across the new Heika’s face. A shadow? Something only Wolfram noticed, it would seem. His expression had not changed; his eyes were still wide and round. His lips remained tilted into an adorable little pout. The perfect picture of innocence and confusion.

But for one moment, Wolfram thought he saw something inside his eyes. As if the boy was thinking, as if he was watching everyone in return and was calculating everything perfectly. At the time, Wolfram didn’t know Yuuri was already laying his traps.

Wolfram blinked, once. He almost took a step backwards, almost. But he didn’t because that would have been ridiculous. He was imagining things, obviously. This Heika was far too pathetic to be anything else but then the Soukoku laughed.

His cheeks flushed a soft pink as he turned towards the others. Everyone immediately began speaking at once, asking if he was all right after such an embarrassing fall.

Wolfram remained silent. He kept staring at the new Heika in confusion. The Soukoku smiled, he waved his hands animatedly as he tried to assure Conrad that he was fine, honestly. There was nothing to worry about.

His eyes narrowed slightly. Wolfram couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling twisting in the pit of his stomach. The more the Soukoku laughed, the stranger it became. The more innocent he appeared, the more something inside Wolfram whispered that he was looking at something wrong.

The dark-haired boy looked up, directly at him and smiled. The same sweet smile. The same innocent expression, nothing had changed, nothing at all. Yet Wolfram felt the strange sensation crawl down his spine. For reasons he could not explain, the smile felt wrong on Yuuri Shibuya’s face. And Wolfram did not yet know why but that single look would stay with him, for years.

Wolfram had always possessed good instincts.

He trusted his gut, always had. And although he could not yet explain why something about the Soukoku felt wrong, Wolfram’s intuition would eventually prove itself correct. Just not yet, for now, he did his best to ignore it.

Surely, the uncomfortable feeling twisting inside him was nothing more than frustration. The thought of being replaced by that wimp would put anyone on edge. The moment the Soukoku had appeared, everyone had forgotten about Wolfram. Of course that upset him, it would upset anyone. Wolfram simply had better taste than most people and was less willing to pretend otherwise.

Later that evening, everyone gathered around the enormous dining table. The crisp, pure-white tablecloth shimmered beneath the flickering candlelight. Silver cutlery gleamed beside delicate glasses, while servants moved quietly around the edges of the hall.

Wolfram tried to look anywhere but the Soukoku, he did not know why. He simply knew that every time he glanced in the boy’s direction, his stomach twisted painfully. Wolfram preferred not feeling nauseous. Unfortunately, he had stubbornly chosen the worst possible seat, the Soukoku sat directly across from him.

Wolfram wished he had selected literally any other chair, but no. He had chosen this one because he had seen Conrad eyeing it earlier. Naturally, that meant Wolfram had claimed it before his irritating older brother could. At the time, he had not considered the consequences, being directly within the new Heika’s line of sight should not have made him feel uneasy. And yet it did, it made him uncomfortable and restless.

Wolfram’s frustration only grew when he realised that nobody else appeared to feel the same way.

The black-haired boy looked around the hall curiously. His eyes were large and round, sweet. And far too innocent.

“I don’t know about this,” he said softly. He tilted his head, offering everyone a weak but friendly smile.

“Are you sure I’m this Heika you’re all talking about?”

“Yes, Heika,” Conrad smiled warmly. “You are the only person here with black hair and black eyes.”

His chocolate-brown eyes seemed to soften the longer he looked at the Soukoku.

Wolfram resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Oh.” The Soukoku blinked, just once and then he looked down at his hands.

Conrad shifted slightly before moving towards Gwendal, who sat beside Wolfram, “Allow me to introduce my older brother, Lord Gwendal von Voltaire.”

“And this is my younger brother.”

Conrad then turned towards Wolfram. Normally, Wolfram would have snapped at Conrad for daring to touch him with those filthy human hands. And that he never saw Conrad as an older brother. The insult was already sitting on the tip of his tongue, his face pinched. Frustration bubbled dangerously beneath his skin, the tips of his ears turned red as he narrowed his green eyes.

Conrad’s hand settled gently against his shoulder and Wolfram’s fingers twitched. The urge to slap Conrad’s hand away burned through him, he was going to. He truly was but then Wolfram turned his head and froze. Those dark eyes were watching him across the enormous table.

That uncomfortable feeling returned. It twisted violently within the pit of his stomach and, for some reason Wolfram could not explain, he suddenly wanted to run.

The best thing to do was to get this interaction over with quickly. The sooner the Soukoku lost interest in him, the better. So, Wolfram clamped his mouth shut, a frustrated snort escaped through his nose as he shrugged Conrad’s hand from his shoulder.

Conrad merely smiled. There was no flicker of hurt on his face. Though he did appear slightly surprised that Wolfram had not said anything else. Still, he seemed to accept it and he continued speaking kindly.

“This is my younger brother, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld.” Conrad smiled towards the curious Soukoku across the table, “As I told you earlier, my brothers and I have different fathers. For that reason, my name is Lord Conrad Weller.”

He paused briefly, “I am not a member of the Ten Aristocrats. There was nothing particularly distinguished about my father, aside from his exceptional swordsmanship. And the fact that he was human.”

The Soukoku continued to watch them. He looked far too sweet, far too harmless. He sat in the enormous chair at the head of the table, looking almost too small for it. But then, that chair had been reserved for the Heika. His long eyelashes framed his round black eyes as he listened to Conrad and occasionally, his gaze wandered around the hall. Taking in each person, studying them.

Wolfram lowered his head. His hands rested stiffly in his lap. He did not even realise that he had begun counting the seconds until dinner was over. Until he could leave, until he could get out of the Soukoku’s sight.

“And he was a very handsome man.” A sudden voice swept sweetly through the hall.

Wolfram stiffened, his mother. Cäcilie von Spitzweg entered the room with a brilliant smile. Her long black dress appeared almost painted onto her slender body. Her green eyes glittered as she immediately turned towards the Soukoku.

The boy merely stared back at her, curiously. His eyes grew wider as if to appear more innocent. As though he truly wished to appear naïve in front of everyone. Especially in front of the beautiful woman who had just entered the room.

“Mother.” Conrad bowed his head.

“Long time no see, Conrad,” Cäcilie swept towards him and wrapped her arms around him, “Darling Conrad!”

She squeezed him tightly. “Ohhh, you’ve become even more handsome!”

“So grown up.” She pulled back just enough to look at him, her smile widened, “Just like your father.”

Wolfram shifted uncomfortably. His stomach was beginning to twist itself into knots, perhaps he really was ill. Perhaps that was all this was, he had caught something. That would explain the nausea, the strange uneasiness. The discomfort crawling beneath his skin, he glanced towards his mother.

She was already eagerly speaking with the new Soukoku. The dark-haired boy smiled sweetly at her, so naïvely. He seemed completely unfazed by Cäcilie’s seductive charms. Wolfram’s mother was pushing her luck, most men never stood a chance against her.

Honestly, Wolfram was rather surprised that the Soukoku did not appear even remotely tempted. He simply smiled and somehow avoided her touches with polite ease. And continued speaking to her as though nothing was happening.

Until Günter finally stepped in and pulled Cäcilie away. Perhaps Wolfram could sneak out. Yes, that was a good idea. He could simply slip away, Gwendal would probably scold him later, but Wolfram was beginning to feel genuinely unwell.

He barely moved from his chair when arms caught him.

“Oh! Wolfie!”

Oh, no.

“Honey-chan!”

Before Wolfram could escape, his mother was upon him. She grabbed his arm and gave him a sharp yank and Wolfram fought to keep his expression smooth. But just like that, he was under the Soukoku’s curious gaze again.

Cäcilie pulled him into a tight hug. Since Wolfram was considerably shorter than his mother, his face landed directly against her chest. Something he had tried to avoid countless times, his mother, unfortunately, never seemed to notice.

“Honey-chan, you haven’t changed!” She giggled and hugged him tighter, “You’re the spitting image of me!”

She squeezed him again, “My little clone! I bet you have all the women and men lusting after you!”

“I don’t want anyone lusting after me, Mother,” Wolfram groaned loudly, finally pulling back enough to breathe.

“Mother?” Cäcilie pouted, “What happened to Hahaue?”

Her eyes widened dramatically, “Didn’t you miss your Mama?”

“Calm down,” Wolfram rubbed his forehead, “I saw you this morning.”

He almost added, before you decided to ignore me the moment you heard about the Soukoku’s arrival. But he wisely kept that particular comment to himself. Because said Soukoku was staring at him again and Wolfram desperately wanted him to look at someone else. Anyone else. Wolfram squirmed until Cäcilie finally released him. He quickly stumbled backwards and straightened his blue uniform.

Then he looked towards the new Soukoku, the boy had turned away. Relief flooded through Wolfram; he breathed out deeply. The Soukoku appeared to be speaking with Günter now.

And there it was again. That strange expression. It looked normally, really. Honestly, he looked normal to Wolfram. But his smile was too wide. His eyes were too large. There was something almost overwhelmingly sweet about him. Everyone else seemed drawn towards it, like he was pure honey and warmth.

The sweetness that drew everyone else closer was slowly choking him. Wolfram glanced around the room, Gwendal looked perfectly calm, his mother was smiling brightly. And finally, reluctantly, Wolfram looked at Conrad.

Everyone appeared completely at ease. Nobody else looked uncomfortable. Nobody else seemed to notice anything wrong, maybe it really was just him. Wolfram lightly pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. He didn’t feel warm, that was strange, but his stomach was definitely behaving strangely.

He swallowed, then glanced towards the Soukoku again.

“Hahaue.” His voice was quiet, he did not know why, but he suddenly did not want the Soukoku’s attention on him again.

The dark-haired boy glanced around the hall.

Wolfram immediately looked away, he narrowed his eyes. He did not want to serve under someone so pathetic, a half-breed from another world. Normally, Wolfram would have made his displeasure perfectly clear, he had never been particularly skilled at hiding his opinions.

But right now? Right now, Wolfram thought the best thing he could do was retire for the evening. Hopefully, he would feel better in the morning.

“Hahaue,” he repeated quietly.

Cäcilie immediately turned towards him. Her face lit up, the green in her eyes brightened. She was happy that he had called her Mama.

Of course she was.

“Yes, Honey-chan?”

“I’m not…” Wolfram paused, his stomach twisted. He narrowed his eyes, “I’m not feeling very well.”

Cäcilie blinked.

“I want to…” He hesitated again, “To be excused.”

For a moment, Cäcilie simply stared at him. Then her green eyes widened. Swiftly, she grabbed Wolfram’s face between her hands and pulled him closer.

“Honey-chan!”

Wolfram’s eyes widened. Oh no. Why does she have to be so dramatic? Why does she always have to draw attention to herself?

“You’re not well?” Her voice rose dramatically. It was loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

Wolfram closed his eyes. Oh, for-He did not want to draw attention to it!

“Oh, Honey-chan!” Cäcilie examined his face, “You’re pale!”

“Mother—”

She pressed her forehead against his, “And you’re warm!”

“Oh my!” Cäcilie gasped, “Honey-chan, you really are sick!”

Exactly! Wolfram wanted to scream, he wanted to yell. He was ill! That was it! That was why he felt so strange! It had nothing to do with this weird half-human, half-Mazoku who was apparently supposed to become their new Heika.

He had simply caught something. Yes. That was it. It had to be.

And with that, Wolfram was finally able to leave the hall. He could still feel the Soukoku’s gaze burning between his shoulder blades, but he did not care. He was simply relieved to be away from him. Wolfram did not know it at the time, but he was the first person in Yuuri’s life to look past his carefully crafted mask and realise that something was wrong.

Granted, Wolfram himself had not truly realised it yet. He had felt it; his instincts had screamed it at him. But he had not understood, not yet. It was, in fact, the first time Wolfram had ever experienced something dangerously close to fear. But Wolfram did not know that either.

Fear was not an emotion he was familiar with; Wolfram von Bielefeld did not run. He did not hide; he did not tremble because of some strange half-human boy with an innocent smile. And yet, he eagerly retired to his room with his tail practically tucked between his legs.

It was entirely unlike him. Wolfram only truly began to feel at ease once he was safely inside his room, hidden beneath his blue quilts and sheets.

He buried himself deep within his pillows. He did not even bother changing into one of his beloved nightgowns, he was too exhausted and too anxious. And Wolfram could not understand why.

Why did he feel so unlike himself? Why did his stomach refuse to settle? Why did every little noise outside his door make him tense?

Honestly, he was exhausted. But he did not get a single wink of sleep that night. His mind refused to shut off, the events of the day played over and over again behind his closed eyes, the castle gates. The horse, the fall, the roses and the new King’s wide, innocent eyes. That smile, always that smile.

Why was he so caught up on him? Was it because he was half-human? Wolfram did not know, he had always been disgusted by humans. He disliked them, avoided them whenever possible. But he had never felt like this before. This was not disgust, at least, Wolfram did not think it was.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He tried to let the night take him; it did not. The following morning, Wolfram was somehow even more on edge, he sat on the edge of his bed and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

Perhaps he was still ill, that would explain everything. He did not feel feverish. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he did not appear particularly sick either. Other than the dark shadows beneath his eyes, those were new. But aside from that, he looked perfectly normal. Which was unfortunate.

Wolfram almost considered staying in his room. The thought was immediately followed by disgust, how ridiculous. How pathetic. He was hiding from a half-human stranger because of a strange feeling in his stomach.

Absolutely not, Wolfram straightened his uniform and lifted his chin. And forced himself to leave his room. Breakfast was being served in the grand hall. To reach it, he needed to cross one of the open hallways overlooking the castle gardens.

Wolfram was halfway there when something caught his attention, a ball. His eyebrows drew together; he narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the open doorway. Then he peered into the gardens.

Of course, it was Conrad. Because, naturally, it was Conrad. Wolfram pressed his lips into a harsh line, his irritation immediately flared. Conrad was always somewhere, always smiling. Always doing something irritatingly noble, but then the annoyance melted away. A coldness crept into Wolfram’s stomach.

Conrad was not alone; he was not standing in the gardens by himself.

No.

He was with someone. And that someone was the last person Wolfram wanted to see. Wolfram swallowed, hard. He straightened himself and silently hoped that he could simply walk through the open hallway and reach the next tower without being noticed.

Conrad appeared to be wearing some strange brown glove, honestly, it looked ridiculous. Something very human, very Conrad. But Wolfram barely cared about the glove. The Soukoku was standing opposite him, and Wolfram’s stomach immediately began to churn.

The dark-haired boy held a similar brown glove, and they appeared to be throwing a ball back and forth between them. The Soukoku looked exactly as he had the previous day. Thick black hair framed his cherry-shaped face, making his ridiculously large, round black eyes stand out even more.

He was smiling brightly, speaking happily with Conrad and then he laughed. The sound drifted through the morning air.

Wolfram quickly tore his green gaze away, he did not want them to realise he had been staring. Unfortunately, the Soukoku appeared to have felt his gaze. He turned immediately, his expression remained unchanged. He still held the same innocence, the same naïveté.

His head tilted slightly as he looked at Wolfram curiously.

Don’t call me. Wolfram continued walking.

Don’t call me.

He stared directly ahead.

Do not call me.

“Wolfram!”

Wolfram’s eyes closed, of course.

“Ah, excuse me. I mean Lord von Bielefeld.” Conrad called after him because fucking naturally, it would be Conrad. The irritating human.

“I thought you were brothers?” The Soukoku’s curious voice drifted towards him, “That is a strange way to refer to one another.”

“Well, you see, Heika, Wolf, I mean Lord von Bielefeld and I are not particularly close.” Conrad spoke calmly, with a warm edge. So annoyingly gentle.

Wolfram felt his face heat up, he continued staring ahead. If he kept walking, perhaps he could get away forgotten?

“Heika?” the King laughed softly, “It’s Yuuri.”

His voice was kind, “You named me, after all.”

“Of course, Yuuri.” Conrad bowed his head slightly. He never lost that irritating smile.

This was perfect. They were distracted. Perhaps they had forgotten Wolfram was even there and Wolfram could sneak past. He could simply continue walking, he was easily forgotten, it seemed. Normally, that thought would have made him furious. Normally, the selfish third son of Cäcilie von Spitzweg would have been deeply offended by the idea of being overlooked.

But this time?

This time, Wolfram was grateful. For once in his life, he was thankful to be ignored or, at least, that was what he thought. Wolfram had barely taken a single step when he heard footsteps running behind him. His face paled and he forced himself to remain calm.

“Ah!” The Soukoku beamed, “We never got to properly meet last night.”

He approached Wolfram with an almost eager smile. The way his eyes lit up was strange. His smile was strange. Everything about it was strange.

Wolfram’s stomach churned again.

“I’m Yuuri,” The Soukoku stopped in front of him, “Yuuri Shibuya.”

His smile widened, “Please don’t call me Heika. I know everyone loves that title, but I’m just Yuuri.”

Wolfram stared at him, his mouth clamped firmly shut. Conrad approached behind Yuuri, that infuriating smile was still on his face. But Wolfram’s eyes immediately returned to Yuuri.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Yuuri took a step closer and then held out his hand. His voice was warm, friendly even. “I hope you’re feeling better today.”

The tone of his voice was strange. Wolfram did not know why, he simply knew that it was. Something about the way Yuuri spoke made his skin crawl, he could not explain it. And Wolfram certainly could not bear the thought of touching him. He did not know whether it was because Yuuri was half-human or because of whatever this was. Whatever Yuuri was.

Either way, Wolfram balled his hands into fists at his sides and then sharply turned around. He practically ran.

“Wolfram?” Conrad called after him, sounding very disappointed.  But Wolfram did not stop.

“It’s all right,” Yuuri’s kind voice drifted after him.

Wolfram pushed through the doors leading into the next tower, he was safe. His breathing was uneven, his heart pounded. What was wrong with him? Wolfram hesitated, but then curiosity got the better of him. He peered through the narrow gap in the door.

Yuuri stood outside. Conrad was still behind him and, from where Wolfram was standing, he could not properly see Yuuri’s face. Yuuri was staring down at his outstretched hand. The hand Wolfram had refused to take.

Wolfram’s stomach dropped as Yuuri’s expression changed. Only slightly, almost imperceptibly. His wide, innocent eyes darkened and his smile disappeared. For one brief moment, something cold crossed his face, something sharp, something ugly.

Wolfram stopped breathing.

“It’s okay, Conrad,” Yuuri spoke softly and after a moment, he smiled again. So brightly, so innocently and kind.

He turned around to face Conrad. The sweetness returned instantly.

“Wolfram must still be sick,” his eyes crinkled, “I’m sure he’ll warm up to me when he’s feeling better.”

Wolfram stared at him through the gap in the door. His fingers slowly tightened around the edge.

There. He had seen it, he knew he had. Yuuri’s expression had changed, only for a second. But it had changed. Wolfram’s instincts had been right; something was wrong with him. And it was not because he was half-human.

No.

This was something else, something Wolfram did not understand. Why did Wolfram suddenly have the terrifying feeling that Yuuri had noticed him too?

He doesn’t quite get why nobody else is able to tell something was weird with him. Why everyone seemed to suck up to Yuuri no matter what. Wolfram tried to keep his distance, something was wrong with the new King and he didn’t want to somehow get involved.

So, he avoided Yuuri. It developed into a habit. It was an unfortunate habit, an embarrassing habit. And, if anyone had dared to point it out to his face, he would have denied it with such ferocity that they would probably have regretted being born.

It wasn’t occasionally. Not by accident, he did it deliberately. If Wolfram heard Yuuri’s voice echoing through the corridors, he changed direction. If he saw that familiar black hair at the end of a hallway, he suddenly remembered something terribly important that needed doing elsewhere.

If Yuuri entered a room, Wolfram found an excuse to leave it. It was ridiculous, Wolfram knew it was ridiculous. He was a prince of Shin Makoku, the youngest son of the previous Kōgō Heika, an accomplished soldier and a powerful Mazoku. He did not run away from people, he certainly did not run away from a skinny half-human boy who looked as though a strong breeze might knock him over.

“Wolfram!”

Wolfram stopped dead, he had been halfway down the eastern corridor when Yuuri’s voice rang out behind him. He closed his eyes, of course. He was doing so well! He really was! The day had been going so perfectly good! But Wolfram really had rotten luck!

Yes! Wolfram had been doing his very best at avoiding Yuuri! It was his own personal mission. But Yuuri somehow was always able to find him! Wolfram didn’t get it and he didn’t want to get it!

Yuuri came hurrying towards him, his black hair bouncing with every step. He wore that same bright, innocent smile that seemed permanently fixed upon his face.

“Ah, there you are!”

Wolfram narrowed his eyes, “There I am?”

“I've been looking for you,” Yuuri nodded enthusiastically. His smile blinding.

Wolfram’s stomach tightened, that sentence should not have bothered him. It was perfectly harmless, completely ordinary. Yet something about the way Yuuri said it made the hairs on the back of Wolfram’s neck rise.

“Well, you’ve found me,” Wolfram replied coldly. “Congratulations, Heika.”

Yuuri laughed, the way his round eyes flickered had Wolfram wanting to turn tale and run. But he didn’t.

“Heika?” Yuuri grinned, “Don’t call me that, call me Yuuri.”

“Of cause,” Wolfram bobbed his head, “Heika, if you don’t mind, I am busy.”

The King’s face pinched, just a little. His cheeks puffed out, Wolfram supposed it was meant to be endearing, but Wolfram’s stomach rolled.

“Aw, come on Wolfram. Call me Yuuri,” the Soukoku pouted, and placed his hands onto his slim hips. Wolfram knew the very same thing had worked on Conrad and Günter, but Wolfram wasn’t weak like them.

“I’m very busy,” he swallowed, purposely taking a step back. He glanced around, his skin prickling as he quickly realized he was alone! Alone with the Soukoku! That was not a good sign! Where was bloody Conrad? The human was always Yuuri’s shadow?!

With a sweet hum, Yuuri stepped closer. He crossed his arms behind his back and clocked his head, “Busy doing what?”

“I’m busy with…” Wolfram paused, struggling to figure out what to say. The way Yuuri was staring at him was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Or well, even more uncomfortable. He shuffled back when Yuuri came closer.

“You don’t look busy,” Yuuri added soothingly.

Wolfram glanced around the empty corridor. There was nobody else there and nothing was happening. There were no bloody maids, not a single one was running back and forth. Not even a vase that required rearranging.

Yuuri looked around too, and then back at him, “You look as if you are free.”

“I’m not free,” Wolfram flushed brightly, trying to make more distance between the two. “Gwendal is waiting for me.”

“Gwendal?” Yuuri repeated, his dark eyebrows raising, “Of course he is.”

There was something in his tone. Wolfram’s mouth grows dry and he looked at Yuuri again, against his better judgement. Those big black shiny eyes were just staring at him and no one else. Seriously now, why was he alone here? Yuuri was never alone, ever! He always had someone following him.

“And please do tell,” Yuuri asked, smiling even sweeter at him, “What does Gwendal want with you?”

Wolfram’s lips parted. He had not considered that question, “Er…im…important matters.”

“What sort of important matters?” Yuuri’s lips twitched in amusement when Wolfram stuttered over his words. Wolfram half-expected Yuuri to laugh, but he didn’t. His perfectly kind, sweet and gentle expression never changed.

“With due respect, the sort of important matters doesn’t concern you, Heika,” Wolfram cleared his throat. He always thought he was a brilliant liar, but now, in front of Yuuri’s endless stare. He was beginning to wonder if maybe he truly wasn’t a good liar at all.

Yuuri definitely knew he was lying, didn’t he?

“Oh.”

But Yuuri's smile didn’t disappear. If anything, it became softer. It was odd.

“I see.”

Wolfram did not like that smile. He especially did not like the fact that Yuuri never seemed offended by his rudeness, most people would have snapped. Günter would have wailed, Conrad would have…well, okay, maybe Yuuri was similar to Conrad in the fact he just kept smiling. But Wolfram wished Yuuri would have reacted like Gwendal, he would have given him that long-suffering stare. Or scold him. Wolfram knew he was pushing it, greatly, Yuuri was the Heika. Even if Wolfram didn’t like him and didn’t want to serve under him. Yuuri was still half-human after all, but…he didn’t know.

Yuuri simply smiled. Of course it was unnerving.

“I’m supposed to be having a lesson with Günter right now,” Yuuri hummed friendly, stepping up to Wolfram’s side, “Gwendal’s office is close to mine, right?”

Just like that, Wolfram felt like everything inside him died. Yuuri was staring at him expectedly, because of course he was. What was he supposed to say to that? No? Gwendal’s office is on the other side of the castle?

Shit.

Wolfram gave a small nod. His shoulder sagging.

“Great!” Yuuri beamed, “Then, let’s walk together.”  

He tried to figure out a good enough excuse to why they shouldn’t do that. But Wolfram couldn’t come up with anything. There was no reason why he shouldn’t walk with Heika. Other than just coming out and saying he didn’t trust him? But Wolfram didn’t know how that would blow over.

“Okay,” he mumbled quietly, head dipping.

Yuuri beamed even brighter at that, clearly pleased he had won. But Wolfram was more concerned on how he was supposed to explain his visit to Gwendal.

Ugh. Why was he so unlucky?

The following week was, for the most part, uneventful. At least, by Shin Makoku’s standards. For Wolfram, however, it had become a week of careful manoeuvring. He had quickly mapped out which parts of Blood Pledge Castle were safe and which were not.

The back corridors were usually reliable; the smaller staircases were even better. The old passageways near the soldier’s quarters were practically deserted during the day, making them ideal.

Wolfram had learned to avoid the kitchens, the main halls and, above all else, the gardens.

The gardens were the biggest warning sign; they were the danger zone. Because Yuuri seemed to spend every spare moment there. He liked to do something called playing ball. Apparently, it was some sort of sport from Earth, the world Yuuri came from. Wolfram had no interest in learning what it was called. As far as he was concerned, watching the new Heika throw a ball around like an overgrown child was hardly worthy of his attention.

Except, Wolfram had noticed exactly when Yuuri went there and exactly how long he tended to stay. Exactly which paths he usually took, he hated that he knew these things. He hated even more that he had started remembering them without trying. Still, the information was useful, Wolfram had constructed a map in his mind, a careful little network of safe routes and forbidden territories.

If he needed to reach the library, he took the western corridor.

If he wanted the training grounds, he used the maid’s staircase.

If he needed to speak with Gwendal, he waited until he knew Yuuri was nowhere nearby. And the gardens? Never, never. Wolfram had become remarkably good at avoiding the Soukoku.

It was almost impressive.

Unfortunately, today seemed determined to ruin all his hard work. Wolfram rounded a familiar corner, already mentally congratulating himself for having avoided Yuuri for most of the morning and unfortunately stopped.

His eyebrows drew together, the corridor ahead was blocked. Several guards from Gwendal’s unit stood across the passage, preventing anyone from passing. Wolfram stared and then stared harder.

“What are you doing?”

One of the guards straightened, “My apologies, Lord Wolfram, but this passage is temporarily closed.”

“Closed?” Wolfram’s eyebrows raised. What a stupid thing? Why would this corridor be closed for? He had never heard such a thing. Even when he was young and accidently setting things on fire, nothing was ever closed.

The man bowed his head, “Yes, my lord.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid we weren’t told.”

Wolfram’s eye twitched, “Then move.”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but we were instructed not to allow anyone through,” the solider swallowed.

“Anyone?” Wolfram frowned even deeper. This was ridiculous.

“Yes.”

“Even me?”

The poor soldier hesitated, “I’m afraid so.”

Wolfram stared at him in disbelief. He peered behind the solider, he couldn’t see any reason why it would be blocked off. But alas, he stepped back and sharply turned around. No point in arguing, if he did, he might bring unwanted attention. Especially from the one person he was trying to avoid.

Wolfram grinded his teeth. He had used this corridor every day, it had been his safest route. His reliable route. His Yuuri-free route and now, for reasons nobody seemed capable of explaining, it was blocked. Wolfram glanced towards the other possible routes, his stomach sank.

The main hall was out, the kitchens were out, the eastern corridor was too close to the throne room. And the maid’s passage would take him completely out of his way. There was only one remaining route, and Wolfram knew it was too dangerous.

He peered towards the enormous windows overlooking the gardens.

No, absolutely not. His stomach gave another unpleasant twist, he could already hear laughter drifting faintly through the glass.

Wolfram closed his eyes, of course. Of course this would happen. He had spent an entire week carefully avoiding one particular person, learning the castle like a military strategist and rerouting his entire existence just to ensure he did not cross paths with the new Heika. One blocked corridor had ruined everything. Wolfram stared towards the gardens and swallowed.

He could do this; it was only a garden. His favourite gardens, before Yuuri appeared and ruined everything. Stupid asshole. Wolfram used to spend hours in those gardens, enjoying the flowers. He adored flowers. But now, he was always too worried about being caught in them.

Well, okay. He can go in there. There isn’t anything to be scared off. Ha! Scared? Him! As if! There was nothing to be worried about! Nothing that could possibly justify the ridiculous pounding of his heart. And besides, Yuuri would probably be nowhere near him.

Wolfram straightened his shoulders. He was Wolfram von Bielefeld; he was not afraid of a garden. Not his gardens! He was certainly not afraid of Yuuri Shibuya.

He took one reluctant step towards the doors, then another. His fingers curled tightly at his sides. Okay, okay, he might be a little nervous but that was to be expected! From what he could see, he was the only one not under the new Heika’s spell! He was the only one who can see that Yuuri was weird!

He glanced back at the guards. They pretended very carefully not to hear him or see him. They pretended they weren’t watching in amusement as the brat prince tried, the key word being tried here, to sneak unseen by their new King.

Wolfram inhaled slowly through his nose. There was no other way, he had to cross the gardens.

“Damn it.”

The morning air swept over him, flowers moved gently in the breeze, birdsong filled the air. Everything looked perfectly peaceful and yet Wolfram felt as though he had just stepped directly into enemy territory. Which he was. Yuuri was definitely his enemy right now. Stupid, whatever he was, taking everything Wolfram loved from him.

His eyes immediately began scanning the gardens. Everything looked normal and in order. Trees, shrubs, fountain, path and of course, the best thing ever! No Yuuri. Relief loosened something in his chest and Wolfram felt himself beginning to loosen up.

No Yuuri anywhere in sight. That was great!

Why is he so strange?

Wolfram frowned, he hated the question. He hated even more that he could not answer it. Wolfram didn’t know why he was so unnerved around the Soukoku. It wasn’t fully clear to Wolfram why he couldn’t bare being within the King’s presence. He just doesn’t…

“Oh, Wolfram!”

A laugh drifted across the gardens and Wolfram’s head snapped up. No. That’s not fair! It really isn’t!  He looked towards the sound.

Yuuri was walking through the gardens with Conrad. He was grinning and waving towards the blonde. Wolfram stared back, he wanted to cry but of course he wouldn’t. Wolfram's soul nearly left his body.

“Wolfram,” Yuuri hummed as they reached him, “I was hoping to run into you. Want to play ball with us?”

Ball? Wolfram’s eyebrows raised, looked down at the brown glove on Yuuri’s hand. Right, that was playing ball, wasn’t it?

“Um, sorry Heika,” he forced out. He ensured there was enough distance between him and Yuuri, “I have somewhere else to be.”

Conrad’s eyebrows crinkled and even thought he was smiling, Wolfram noticed the way his brown eyes flickered, “You only just arrived.”

“I have remembered something,” Wolfram quickly said, “Just now.”

“What?” Conrad questioned.

Wolfram bristled, not liking Conrad questioning. He doesn’t have to answer to a human, but when he opened his mouth to voice that, instead he rather stupidly said, “Something important.”

Conrad sighed, not looking very convinced, However, he closed his mind when Yuuri held a hand up. Wolfram tried not to, but he looked at the Soukoku. Yuuri was still smiling, his eyes still glowing so brightly and innocently.

“It’s okay, Wolfram has many important things to remember,” Yuuri stated and for a second, Wolfram wondered if he was channelling him there. He wondered if Yuuri knew Wolfram was going out of his way to avoid him?

“Exactly,” Wolfram said sharply and gave a stiff bow, “Please excuse me Heika, I need to leave now.”

“Yuuri,” the Soukoku corrected gracefully, “Why don’t you walk with us? I’m sure these important things you have just remembered can wait a while.

Wolfram pouted, his cheeks puffing out, “No, Heika.”

“Wolfram, you're being rather rude,” Conrad pointed out. He looked like he wanted to say other things, but he didn’t. Wolfram glared at him, mutely daring him to say it.

“I am always rude,” Wolfram scuffed stubbornly.

Conrad shook his head, “That isn't something to be proud of.”

“It should be,” Wolfram wanted to stick his tongue out at him, but he didn’t. He wasn’t a kid, was he. Not really. Maybe this was rather childish of him, but Wolfram didn’t know what else to do.

“I suppose I’ll see you at dinner,” Yuuri spoke with that ridiculous, innocent expression, yet there was something in his eyes. Something that seemed almost amused. As though Yuuri knew something Wolfram did not.

He stiffened, Wolfram’s heart suddenly began to race and his stomach burned, “I might not attend.”

“You always attend dinner,” Yuuri hummed kindly, he closed his eyes briefly. Still seeming perfectly charmed, perfectly happy and content.

“I may be ill.”

“You were ill yesterday.”

Wolfram’s eyes narrowed but Yuuri's smile remained unchanged.

“So perhaps you should rest,” Yuuri continued gently. His voice was perfectly kind and just so perfectly concerned, “I'm sure you’ll feel better soon.”

Wolfram bristled, annoyed. There was nothing wrong with what he had said, nothing. But yet, he didn’t trust those words. He didn’t trust the Soukoku.

“Goodbye,” he got out through clenched teeth.

Without another sound, Wolfram sharply turned and walked away. He did his best to walk calmly, despite wanting to bolt.  This time, he did not bother pretending he had somewhere else to be. He simply left.

Behind him, Conrad watched with growing concern.

Yuuri watched too, only his expression had changed, barely. His smile remained, but his eyes had narrowed.

The first ball held in Yuuri’s honour was supposed to be a celebration, Wolfram hated it but also loved it. There were far too many people. Which, for once, was a blessing. There were enough nobles, aristocrats, soldiers and maids wandering around the ballroom to keep Yuuri occupied. Enough people eager to meet their new Heika, eager to dance with him, speak with him and shower him with their affection.

Enough people to distract Yuuri from somehow ending up beside Wolfram. And Wolfram, for his part, did what he did best. He stayed the hell away from Yuuri. He had noticed far too many nobles staring at the new Heika throughout the evening. For the most part, Yuuri appeared to be enjoying himself.

He was beaming. He soaked up every scrap of affection offered to him, every compliment, every smile, every eager noble who wanted to dance with him. It was almost as though Yuuri had been born to stand at the centre of attention.

Which was strange. Wolfram did not know why he found it strange. It simply was. It was almost like he expected Yuuri to be shy. At least, that was what everyone seemed to believe. Sweet, naïve and hopelessly confused by his sudden arrival in Shin Makoku. Yet Yuuri looked perfectly comfortable surrounded by dozens of people.

He laughed when they laughed, smiled when they smiled. Tilted his head at exactly the right moments. Wolfram frowned, something about it irritated him.

He stood near the edge of the ballroom with a glass of wine in his hand, watching Yuuri dance awkwardly with one of the young noblewomen. The girl was smiling, Yuuri was smiling, everyone was smiling. Wolfram rolled his eyes. It was just so Pathetic. He looked down at his glass, then thoughtfully at the bottles of wine lining one of the nearby tables.

He wondered how many glasses he could drink before someone noticed, the answer was probably three. Perhaps four if Conrad was distracted, five if Gwendal was busy. Ten or more if his mother never left the circle of men and women. Wolfram sighed. The last thing he needed was Conrad appearing beside him with that irritatingly warm smile and gently trying to remove the wine from his hands. And then, inevitably, Gwendal would become involved.

Wolfram could already imagine the lecture.

Wolfram. You have had enough. You're too young to drink that much. Blah, blah, blah.

Cäcilie had disappeared into the crowd nearly an hour ago and was currently surrounded by admirers. Wolfram had briefly seen her laughing with a particularly handsome nobleman, another woman and, strangely enough, one of the musicians. She was probably collecting lovers again.

Wolfram was not going to interrupt. So, he was alone, which suited him perfectly. He raised the glass towards his lips.

“Wolfram?”

He nearly choked. Of course, why was it, Gisela? Wolfram coughed into his hand and turned his head. Gisela stood beside him, one eyebrow raised, she looked beautiful. Her light blue dress suited her perfectly, flowing softly around her as she stood with her hands folded in front of her.

Wolfram scowled. He hated when people looked beautiful, especially when they were about to annoy him. Gisela had been his closest friend when they were younger. They had grown up together, spent countless hours running through the castle and getting into trouble, and Wolfram had once been convinced that they would remain inseparable forever.

Then they had grown older, Gisela had chosen to become a healer and Wolfram had chosen the military. Or, rather, he had chased after the same sort of praise his brothers received. Gwendal was a soldier, Conrad was a soldier. So naturally, Wolfram had gone to military school, it made perfect sense.

Gisela, however, had never seemed entirely pleased with his decision. Wolfram still did not understand why, something about him following the paths other people had chosen instead of finding his own.

Ridiculous, he had chosen military school. Hadn't he?

Gisela tilted her head, “You look rather tense.”

“I am not tense,” Wolfram pouted, hunching his shoulders slightly.

He did not like being attacked, especially not by Gisela. She might have been annoying, but she had once been his best friend, that made her insults more irritating.

“You've been gripping that glass for the last five minutes,” Gisela pointed out with a small laugh.

“I have not been gripping…” Wolfram looked down, his fingers were wrapped tightly around the glass. Uncomfortably tightly. The poor thing was probably seconds away from cracking beneath his grip. Wolfram immediately loosened his fingers.

Gisela smiled.

Wolfram whined, “That doesn't mean you were right.”

“Of course it does,” Gisela clicked her tongue and smoothed down the front of her dress. “It means I was exactly right, as I always am.”

Wolfram narrowed his eyes but chooses not to raise to the bait.

“Why are you sulking over here?” she continued. “You're normally the first person on the dance floor.”

“I’m bored.”

A scoff of amusement escaped her. Gisela turned towards him, giving him a pointed look, “Once again, why aren't you dancing if you're oh-so-bored?”

His emerald eyes narrowed. There was one very good reason he was avoiding the dance floor. One, Yuuri Shibuya. Yuuri was on the dance floor. Wolfram glanced towards him. The Soukoku was currently moving one of the young noblewomen around the ballroom or, rather, attempting to. Yuuri's dancing was still clumsy. He seemed to step on his partner's foot at least twice.

The young woman laughed brightly anyway and Yuuri apologised. She laughed so sweetly, purposely pushing her bust out but Yuuri appeared to be unfazed by it. And everyone watching appeared to find the entire thing unbearably adorable.

Wolfram rolled his eyes. What was with him anyway? Did Yuuri not have hormones? All these women, each one purposely presenting their nicely curved bodies to the King and yet Yuuri never so much as blinked.

“I just don't feel like dancing,” he said stubbornly.

Gisela hummed. Her eyes followed his gaze, her entire expression brightened. Wolfram immediately became suspicious. She shifted closer and playfully nudged his elbow with hers.

“You know,” she said, “Heika is very kind and gentle.”

Wolfram slowly turned his head, confused on what she was talking about.

“…What?”

Gisela smiled sweetly, “He seems very approachable.”

“I don't know what you're getting at.”

Why was she talking about him? Why did everyone insist on talking about Yuuri? Wolfram was trying to avoid the blasted man!

“I mean,” Gisela continued, her eyes flickering between Wolfram and Yuuri, “if you simply asked, I'm sure Heika would happily dance with you.”

Wolfram stared at her. She wasn't serious. She couldn't be serious. Wolfram did not want a dance; he did not want to be anywhere near Yuuri. No, absolutely not, not in a million years. Not if someone paid him.

“Oh, Wolfram.”

His eyebrows twitched, “What is it now?”

“Now's your chance,” she chimed with a wide grin.

Wolfram blinked, “My chance?”

“He's coming this way.”

Wolfram's breath hitched. His eyes widened, slowly, far too slowly, he lifted his head. And, true to Gisela's word, Yuuri was approaching them. Wolfram's soul nearly left his body.

When did that happen?

He had been on the dance floor. He was just moving some noblewoman around the room. Wasn't he?

Wolfram stared, Yuuri was weaving through the crowd now. Politely excusing himself as people stopped him to speak, yet, somehow, he continued moving in Wolfram's direction. Directly towards him, Wolfram's heart began pounding.

Please.

Please.

Someone, anyone, stop him.

Just one person?!

There were hundreds of people in the ballroom, hundreds. Everyone was desperate to meet their new Heika. Surely somebody wanted another dance, someone had to, a young noblewoman stepped closer to Yuuri.

Wolfram held his breath. She smiled at him and of course, Yuuri smiled back. Then, after exchanging a few words, Yuuri politely stepped around her. His stomach dropped. No, what was happening?  Another noble approached, Wolfram stared at him desperately.

Ask him to dance.

Someone grab his arm and drag him back to the dance floor!

The noble bowed and Yuuri bowed back. They spoke; Wolfram couldn’t hear what was being said. Yuuri smiled that innocent and naïve smile again and continued to walk in his direction.  Wolfram stared in disbelief. Seriously? Nobody? Not one bloody noble in the entire ballroom was going to stop him?

Yuuri was practically in front of him now, Wolfram looked desperately around the room. There were people everywhere. Surely somebody could grab him. A hand, an arm, anything. The crowd parted around Yuuri as though the ballroom itself were making room for its new king. And Wolfram suddenly realised something deeply unpleasant, there was nowhere left to run.

The King stopped in front of him with that sweet smile. That harmless smile, those enormous, innocent eyes looked directly into Wolfram's.

“Wolfram!” Yuuri let out the name with a bright, happy chirp.

Wolfram’s stomach twisted. He tried to keep the frown from his face. He really did but he was annoyed. He had spent the entire evening successfully avoiding Yuuri. Well, mostly successfully. And now, thanks to Gisela, his careful efforts had been destroyed.

Traitor.

Wolfram would never forgive her, never.

“Heika,” Wolfram swallowed.

“Yuuri,” the Soukoku corrected gently, his smile brightening. “Call me Yuuri.”

“Heika, I need to-”

“I was wondering where you had disappeared to,” Yuuri automatically cut in.

His voice rose just slightly, though somehow, he still managed to sound sweet and kind. Wolfram stared at him, his mouth opened. His fingers tightened around his glass again.

“I haven't disappeared.”

Yuuri tilted his head innocently, “No?”

“No,” Wolfram snapped, bristling with irritation. “I've just been busy.”

Yuuri hummed loudly.

“Right,” His smile widened, “So busy at a ball.”

“I have!” The words burst from Wolfram before he could stop them. His face immediately turned red. He glanced around the ballroom, desperately searching for something, anything, that might justify his claim.

“I mean, I've been…” His eyes landed on Gisela; and Wolfram gestured to her. “Keeping Gisela company.”

“Is that so?” Yuuri looked towards her with a warm smile.

Wolfram silently begged her to understand.

Please. Please be useful for once.

“Good evening, Heika.” She curtsied gracefully, so cute and pretty. Perfectly dolled up like any other women.

Wolfram wondered if perhaps he could use this to his advantage. Gisela was beautiful. That was simply a fact. Her hair, her dress, her smile, she looked lovely tonight. And Yuuri seemed to enjoy attention. Especially attention from women. Surely, he would be flattered and taken by Gisela’s beauty?  Surely his attention would shift towards Gisela. Perhaps they could speak. Maybe Gisela could even ask him to dance.

And while Yuuri was distracted, Wolfram could slip away. Yes. That was an excellent plan. For the first time that evening, Wolfram felt hopeful.

“Call me Yuuri,” the new Heika beamed.

Gisela smiled, “Of course, Yuuri.”

“See?” Yuuri's gaze immediately returned to Wolfram, pinning him in place. “Is that so difficult?”

His hope died, Wolfram narrowed his eyes because Gisela laughed.

“If Gisela can call me Yuuri, I don't see why you can't.”

Gisela tilted her head, giving Wolfram an accusing look. Wolfram pressed his lips tightly together. He did not understand why they were both ganging up on him.

“Weller doesn't do it either,” Wolfram snapped, helplessly, “Why don't you go bother him about it?”

Gisela gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look. Yuuri, however, did not appear bothered in the slightest.

“Well,” Yuuri said cheekily, “I'm not talking to Conrad, am I?”

Turning bright red, Wolfram immediately looked down at his wine. How many glasses could he get through now? Probably just one. That was such a depressing thought. Well, maybe, if he just ignored Yuuri long enough, he’ll leave?

Gisela suddenly cleared her throat, “Yuuri, I believe Wolfram has something he wants to ask you.”

Head snapping up, Wolfram’s eyes widened, “What?”

He looked at Gisela in complete disbelief. She could not be serious.

Yuuri hummed and tilted his head curiously. His dark eyes moved between the two of them.

“Yes?” His attention settled on Wolfram, “What is it?”

“I-I don't have anything to ask!” Wolfram gapped, the redness on his face darkening.

He gave Gisela a sharp glare. The woman looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, his dark eyes dropped towards Wolfram's wine glass. Wolfram followed his gaze, before he could react, Yuuri stepped closer. And, with a smoothness that somehow left Wolfram feeling strangely light-headed, he plucked the glass directly from his hand.

“I don't think you should be drinking so much,” Yuuri turned the glass slightly in his fingers.

He opened his mouth, Wolfram stared. What? What is going on? He watched with raised eyebrows as Yuuri turned away from him and handed the glass to a passing server.

“Please take this.”

The server bowed and hurried away. They disappeared along with Wolfram’s wine glass.

Wolfram continued staring at his empty hand. His fingers slowly curled, he wasn't sure whether he was furious or simply too shocked to react.

Gisela smirked, she deliberately turned her head away, hiding her laugh behind her hand.

Traitor.

Traitor.

Such a damn traitor.

“Anyway,” Yuuri said brightly. His attention returning to Wolfram, “What was it you wanted to ask?”

“I don't have anything to ask,” Wolfram barely managed.

His eyes dropped mournfully towards his empty hand. Yes. Yes, he’ll ignore Yuuri for sure now. Yes. Yuuri will get the picture and hell, screw Gisela. Gisela can take pity and hopefully whisk Yuuri away.

“Oh, yes, he does,” Gisela's voice cut through the conversation, “He wants to dance with you.”

“What?!” Wolfram gasped, his head snapped towards her. His breathing suddenly became painfully shallow.

“You do?” Yuuri looked genuinely surprised. His already wide eyes somehow became even larger.

“No,” Wolfram began.

“Yes!” Gisela interrupted loudly. She smiled brightly at Yuuri, “That's why he's been sulking all evening.”

Wolfram stared at her.

Betrayal.

Pure betrayal.

Yuuri looked harmless, completely harmless. His dark eyes were wide, his smile was gentle, his shoulders were relaxed. Nothing about him looked threatening. He looked, quite honestly, like an oversized puppy. The sort of sweet-faced boy people would look at and immediately think they could teach a thing or two about the world. Or, judging by some of the looks Wolfram had seen thrown in Yuuri's direction tonight, a thing or two about the bedroom.

Wolfram's face heated, that was an unpleasant thought. He quickly shoved it away. His stomach churned, especially when Yuuri took a small step closer.

That naïve smile widened. Yuuri slowly held out his hand.

“I'm not very good at dancing,” he admitted shyly. A soft blush appeared across his cheeks, “I'm actually terrible, if I'm being honest.”

His fingers remained extended towards Wolfram, “I might even step on your foot once or twice.”

It was clearly meant to be endearing. And, judging by the way several nearby nobles melted at the sound of Yuuri's confession, it worked. Wolfram could certainly understand why. Yuuri looked earnest, he looked sincere, almost painfully sweet. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he really was a terrible dancer, maybe Wolfram was simply being ridiculous.

He didn't know what to believe anymore, that was the problem.

Wolfram looked at Yuuri's hand. Every instinct inside him screamed.

Don't do it.

His heartbeat quickened.

Don't take his hand.

The ballroom suddenly felt too warm, too loud and just too crowded. Yuuri's fingers remained patiently extended.

Don't let him lead you onto the dance floor.

Wolfram could not explain why. He could not explain what exactly frightened him. Yuuri was only asking him to dance. That was all. Yet Wolfram felt as though he were standing at the edge of something, something he could not see, something waiting for him to take one wrong step.

A trap. The thought flashed through his mind. Wolfram swallowed. Later, much later, Wolfram would look back on this moment and realise that his instincts had been right. It had been a trap, perhaps not in the way he imagined but a trap, nonetheless.

At the time, however, Wolfram did not know that. And Gisela certainly didn't.

“He would love to!”

Wolfram's eyes widened, “Gisela-”

She shoved him. Her hand struck the centre of his lower back and Wolfram stumbled forward, straight into Yuuri. Yuuri caught his hand, the moment their fingers touched, Wolfram's heart shuddered.

His stomach twisted violently. For one brief, absurd moment, a thought flashed through his mind.

A lamb. Caught by a wolf.

Wolfram's eyes widened. What a horrifying thought…but Yuuri's hand was warm and his grip was gentle. There was nothing threatening about it. And yet Wolfram suddenly became painfully aware that Yuuri was holding him.

He glanced over his shoulder; Gisela was still standing there. Wolfram shot her his harshest glare.

That fucking traitor.

He would never forgive her, never trust her again, not after this. They were definitely not friends anymore.

Yuuri's fingers remained wrapped gently around his hand. And when Wolfram finally turned back towards him, Yuuri was still smiling. Smiling at him as though he had all the time in the world.

As though Wolfram could stand there for as long as he wished, as though Yuuri already knew, he wasn't going anywhere. And for a split second, Wolfram thought something shifted within Yuuri’s kind round eyes. He must have imagined it because he blinked and Yuuri had that dumb look on his face again.

“Alright, fine,” Wolfram finally gave in with a grumble.

If it was even possible, Yuuri brightened up even more. Without another word, he took him to the dance floor. Well, Yuuri wasn’t that bad of a dancer. Not really, he did step on Wolfram’s feet once or twice, but he seemed to know what he was doing…most of the time.

It had been wonderful, truly wonderful. Yuuri had left Shin Makoku with Conrad and a handful of soldiers. Wolfram could not have cared less where they had gone, some mission across the sea, apparently. Probably something important and political. Something that required Yuuri to leave Blood Pledge Castle for an extended period of time.

That was the only part Wolfram had bothered remembering, the rest had gone in one ear and straight out of the other. Wolfram had done his absolute best to contain his joy. He had failed, spectacularly.

The moment Yuuri and Conrad had ridden out of the castle gates; Wolfram had practically floated back inside. Because Blood Pledge Castle was Yuuri-free. The thought alone was enough to make him want to sing, not that Wolfram would ever do something so ridiculous. But he had smiled, quite a lot.

He had even caught himself humming once. It was embarrassing. Still, he could not deny how much easier it was to breathe without Yuuri wandering around the castle.

Wolfram could walk through the corridors without constantly checking around corners. He could sit in the library without listening for footsteps. He could visit the gardens without wondering whether Yuuri was somewhere nearby, playing that stupid earth game with Conrad. Wolfram didn’t have to worry about the uneasiness he felt when he saw that bright smile and those impossibly wide black eyes.

He could simply exist and, for the first time in months, Wolfram felt almost normal. The strange twisting in his stomach disappeared, the constant uneasiness faded.

He slept. He was able to sleep properly and deeply. Something he hadn’t been able to do since the King had arrived. It was the best few nights of sleep Wolfram had experienced in months. Every morning, he woke feeling refreshed. He lounged around his room; he went wherever he pleased. He even spent several afternoons in the gardens…doing absolutely nothing but that wasn’t the point.

It was wonderful. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to relax. And Conrad was gone too. That was an added bonus, no annoying human wandering around the castle with that irritating smile.

Honestly, Wolfram could have gotten used to this.

Unfortunately, nothing good ever lasted.

“The King has returned!” Günter's flamboyant voice thundered as he sprung through the doors to Gwendal’s office.

Good things never last. Wolfram couldn’t stop the frown. Instead, he tried to hide it as he twisted away from Gwendal’s desk. His brother was staring daggers up at him. It was nice, a Yuuri-free few days that Wolfram used to his advantage…which meant he neglected the duties he was oh-so-kindly given. Yeah right. Gwendal didn’t really care what he did.

For several long seconds, he simply stared ahead, then his face slowly soured. His shoulders dropped, it genuinely felt as though something inside him had broken.

“Already?” he breathed out bitterly. He quickly coughed and flushed, forgetting Gwendal was still observing him.

“We all must hurry to the courtyard to welcome him home!” Günter chirped. His hands clapped excitedly together in front of his chest. His long, lush purple hair swirled dramatically over his shoulders as he smiled brightly.

Wolfram pressed his lips into a stubborn line, “Then you had better hurry, Günter.”

The older Mazoku's eyes narrowed, his face immediately pinched, “You cannot possibly be suggesting that you will not be attending, Lord Brat.”

Wolfram's eye twitched. Lord Brat. How insulting. This was precisely why Wolfram did not like Günter. During Yuuri's absence, Wolfram had barely needed to deal with the irritating man. But somehow, whenever Yuuri was around, so was Günter.

“I am busy,” Wolfram stated curtly.

Günter slowly raised an eyebrow, “Ah, yes.”

His tone immediately became suspicious.

“You do appear to be very busy these days.”

There it was again! The same tone Gisela used. What does it even mean? What was everyone suggesting here?

“What?”

Günter rolled his eyes. He folded his arms behind his back and gave Wolfram a long, searching look.

“I am more surprised that you continue hiding it instead of simply facing it.”

“Hiding what?” Wolfram asked, turning fully to Günter. A coldness crept up his spine and Wolfram just didn’t understand.

He sighed deeply and so dramatically, “It is unlike you.”

“What is?” Wolfram was on the verge of whining now. Because this meant something, doesn’t it? Günter was suggesting the same thing Gisela had! What were they thinking?

“There is no shame in it.”

Wolfram's mouth opened, then closed. His skin prickled. His eyebrows creased as he considered what Günter said.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Günter merely smiled, a deeply irritating smile. It was so unlike himself that he didn’t even poke at Wolfram further. No, he simply turned and of course, a dramatic flip of his long, beautiful hair, he strolled out of the office. Leaving Wolfram staring after him in confusion. His confusion quickly transformed into irritation.

He slowly crossed his arms tighter across his chest. Günter had been poking fun at him, he knew that much.

What exactly was he suggesting?

He let out an irritated humph, Günter was dramatic and clueless. If Günter had felt what Wolfram felt around Yuuri, he would probably be sick. Actually, Wolfram paused. He frowned harder, that was not the point. What really mattered now is that Yuuri is back. The Soukoku has returned, which meant Wolfram needs to make himself scares.

He must go somewhere else before the Soukoku enters the castle. Wolfram does not want to be forced to talk to him so soon. 

“Wolfram,” A deep voice interrupted his thoughts. Gwendal peered up from the paperwork he had previously been going over. His eldest brother looked tired, he always looked tired.

Gwendal gave Wolfram a long, sharp look, “You will join us in welcoming Heika home.”

Wolfram blinked furiously. What? His mouth immediately opened.

“But…”

Gwendal's stare sharpened and Wolfram slowly closed his mouth. Something inside him told him that arguing would be a very bad idea. He swallowed, his shoulders sagged dramatically and his head dipped. Wolfram felt like a little child again.

“Of course,” the words came out as a miserable mumble.

The older Makoku nodded once. He turned towards the office door, and Wolfram assumed the conversation was over. But Gwendal tilted his head slightly over his shoulder.

“There are other ways to cope, Wolfram,” Gwendal grunted. Weird enough, his normally cool tone had a rather soft edge to it, “Avoiding our Heika is not a practical one.”

Pure confusion crossed Wolfram’s face.

Cope?

What did that mean? He wasn't coping with anything. Well, maybe he was. Wolfram was avoiding Yuuri. But that was different, wasn't it? The Soukoku just made Wolfram so uncomfortable.

Wolfram ran a hand through his hair. His lips twisted into a confused frown. He had absolutely no idea what anyone was talking about anymore. Gisela had suggested something last month at the ball. Günter was making strange comments and now Gwendal was telling him there were better ways to cope.

Was everyone in this castle losing their minds? Wolfram considered not following his brother, he really did. He could simply return to his room and lock the door. Maybe even hide under his blankets and pretend he had suddenly become deathly ill. But Gwendal paused at the door and, without turning around, he looked just enough over his shoulder to make it painfully obvious that he was waiting.

Wolfram sighed defeated. He pushed himself upright and dragged himself after him. He dragged his feet deliberately; he was not going to hurry. Everyone else could run towards the courtyard if they wanted but Wolfram would not. In fact, he would take his time, as much time as possible. If he arrived late, there would already be a large crowd, that was good. Crowds were useful, crowds meant Yuuri might not notice him. Or, better yet, Yuuri might not be able to reach him.

Wolfram smiled faintly at the thought. He only needed to show his face, stand there for a few moments. Look appropriately welcoming, then disappear. Wolfram followed Gwendal down the corridor. He was so busy planning his escape that he failed to notice the strange looks being exchanged between the castle staff.

They all had their theories. The spoiled young prince had been avoiding Yuuri for months, he became tense whenever Yuuri entered a room. He disappeared whenever the new Heika approached, he blushed whenever Yuuri teased him. And, apparently, Wolfram had spent the entire time Yuuri was away looking more unhappy than anyone had seen him in months. Apparently, Wolfram relaxing and delegating his duties meant he was unhappy in their eyes.

Naturally, they had reached the wrong conclusion.

Wolfram did not care if his displeasure showed on his face. In fact, he rather hoped that it did.

He was bitter about being forced to stand in the presence of someone who made his skin crawl. Someone who rubbed him entirely the wrong way, though Wolfram could not have explained why if his life depended upon it.

There was simply something strange about the Soukoku, something was just off about him. It infuriated him that nobody else appeared to feel it. That was the part that upset him most. Everyone else looked at Yuuri and saw exactly what they expected to see: their kind-hearted Maou. Their sweet, innocent, hopelessly naïve Yuuri.

Wolfram looked at him and felt sick. It was beginning to make him wonder if there was something wrong with him. Perhaps he was imagining it. Perhaps he had become so accustomed to disliking Yuuri that his mind had invented reasons to justify it. Perhaps he was simply being difficult, as everyone always accused him of being.

The thought did nothing to settle the uncomfortable twisting in his stomach.By the time Wolfram finally reached the courtyard, he could already hear a chorus of voices spilling through the open doors.

He stopped just inside the entrance and peered cautiously outside, his chest tightened. His stomach immediately flipped. Guards stood gathered around the courtyard. Maids clustered together near the fountain, whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Gisela was there, as was Anissina. Günter and Gwendal stood nearby and Conrad. Of course, Conrad was back, what a shame.

Wolfram supposed he ought to have been pleased to see his brother again, but at the moment, his attention was fixed elsewhere. Everyone had come outside to greet the Soukoku and Wolfram narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Yuuri stood in the middle of them all. If Wolfram had not been so thoroughly put off by him, he might even have found him adorable. That was perhaps the most irritating part. Yuuri's cheerful face was flushed a soft rosy red from the journey. His large, dark eyes shone brightly beneath the afternoon sunlight, and that familiar, easy-going smile rested lazily upon his lips.

He looked harmless. He looked sweet. He looked…Wolfram's stomach churned violently.

Wrong.

The Soukoku moved easily from one person to the next, giving everyone his full attention. He listened when Gisela spoke, laughed at something Anissina said, and even allowed Günter to throw himself dramatically into his arms. Wolfram watched in silent disgust as Yuuri awkwardly patted Günter's back while the older man sobbed.

It was strange, Wolfram did not like it. Just watching Yuuri made him feel uneasy, as though something was crawling beneath his skin. As though something was terribly, horribly wrong.

"Honey-chan."

A hand touched his cheek. Wolfram jumped, startled. He wasn’t expecting anyone to notice him over here.

"Mama!" Wolfram flushed brightly, having failed to notice her approach.

His mother stood beside him, as beautiful as ever. Long, thick golden curls cascaded over her shoulders, and her elegant black dress clung effortlessly to her slender figure. She hummed warmly as she stroked his cheek.

"You mustn't hide away, Honey-chan," she cooed. "You'll get nowhere like that."

Eyebrows drew together; he gave her a dry look. What was that supposed to mean? He opened his mouth to ask when she suddenly wrapped her thin arm around his and pulled him firmly against her side.

"Yuuri!" she called excitedly and poor Wolfram's eyes widened. His mother waved enthusiastically towards the centre of the courtyard.

"Welcome home! We missed you so very much!"

"Mama!" Wolfram gapped at her in horror.

With a playful giggle, she began dragging him forward. He stumbled after her, bewildered and increasingly nauseous. With her free hand, Cäcilie waved at Yuuri.

"Welcome home!" she repeated brightly. “Yuuri! Yuuri!”

Yuuri turned towards them. His innocent expression did not change, he smiled brightly. Seeing it had Wolfram's stomach twisted.

"Lady Cäcilie," Yuuri said warmly, dipping his head slightly. "I'm happy to see you too."

"Oh!" Cäcilie pouted, her cheeks puffing out endearingly. "Yuuri, I told you to call me Cheri!"

"Mother," Gwendal immediately said. His voice carried across the courtyard like the warning toll of a funeral bell, "That would be inappropriate. You are the former Maou."

"Gwendie!" Cäcilie whined. She finally released Wolfram and turned towards her eldest son. She did not deny that it would be inappropriate, naturally. She simply appeared to find the entire thing amusing.

Sighing through his nose and turned away. Wolfram straightened the front of his blue jacket, pretending to be deeply concerned with a wrinkle that did not exist. Perhaps now he could leave without anyone noticing. However, the skin along the back of his neck prickled. That awful tightness returned to his stomach. He knew this feeling; it meant one thing. He was being watched.

Slowly, Wolfram looked up and immediately wished he had not. Yuuri was staring at him, not intensely or suspiciously. Not, it was kind and warm. And that was somehow worse. Yuuri's expression was warm and open, his dark eyes soft with something that looked almost fond.

Wolfram's skin prickled and his nausea worsened.

"What are you looking at?" he huffed bluntly, lifting his nose into the air.

Blinking once, Yuuri contuined to smile. Unfazed by Wolfram’s rudeness, unlike everyone else around them. Wolfram didn’t care that everyone gave him dirty looks for being so rude to the Moah.

"I missed you too, Wolfram,” Yuuri said earnestly.

A shudder ran through him. His cheeks heated despite himself, and Wolfram snapped harshly, "I didn't miss you.”

"You didn't?" Yuuri tilted his head, the movement was small. Like it was practiced, rehearsed somehow. It looked innocent and childish. Wolfram noticed several of the maids swooning behind him, whispers immediately began to ripple through the crowd. Their Maou was so sweet.

Wolfram felt vaguely ill.

"Oh! He did too!" Cäcilie suddenly squealed. Before Wolfram could escape, she threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into another suffocating embrace.

"Mama!"

"He was sulking all over the castle!" she laughed, crushing his face against her chest. "You should have seen his adorable little face!"

"Mama, that's not true!" Wolfram struggled furiously. It took him a while, but he finally managed to wrench himself free. His face was burning, "I was not sulking!"

Quite the opposite, actually. He had been enjoying his Yuuri-free time, the castle had been peaceful. He had been able to walk down a corridor without suddenly feeling as though someone was watching him. How could anyone possibly think he had been unhappy? Did he look unhappy? Had he looked miserable? How insulting.

"It's true," Günter snorted, "The little selfish Lord Brat wandered around so miserably while you were away, Heika."

Günter closed his eyes with an expression of deep satisfaction, "It really was a sight to behold."

Wolfram's emerald eyes widened. Excuse him? Was that truly how everyone had seen him over the past few weeks? Did they seriously believe he had been sulking because Yuuri had gone away? Did they honestly think…oh.

Oh, no. Surely not.

"Perhaps next time you can join us, Wolfram," Conrad suggested warmly. The smile on Conrad's face made Wolfram want to scream because that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He did not want to go anywhere with Yuuri. Especially not on a boat. Why in the name of Shinou would Wolfram willingly follow Yuuri onto a damned boat?

"I'm glad, Wolfram,” Yuuri's voice cut through his thoughts. Wolfram whipped his head towards him, Yuuri was still smiling at him.

"I thought you didn't like me," Yuuri continued. His voice was gentle enough to make Wolfram's teeth ache, "I was worried."

Wolfram stared.

"But it appears I was wrong,” Yuuri beamed, "I'm glad I was wrong."

Wrong?

The courtyard suddenly felt as though it had tilted beneath Wolfram's feet. Something cold crawled down his spine. His chest tightened, his stomach dropped so violently that for one horrible moment, Wolfram genuinely thought he might faint. He looked around wildly.

Oh.

Dear lord.

That was it. Wasn't it? Everyone thought he had a crush on Yuuri. Everyone. They thought Wolfram had developed feelings for their precious Maou and was simply too embarrassed and childish to deal with them.

His face slowly began to turn red. Did they seriously think he was avoiding Yuuri because he liked him? Did they think Wolfram was so pathetic that he would run away from something as ridiculous as a crush?

Did they truly think so little of him?

Wolfram's hands curled into fists; flames flickered at his fingertips. The nausea in his stomach twisted into something sharper.

"You were right! I don't know what everyone else is thinking, but I don't like you!" The courtyard fell silent as Wolfram's voice echoed across the stone. “With your stupid, sweet, harmless smile. It made makes my skin crawl! I really hate you!"

"Wolfram, " Conrad began. He stepped towards the younger blonde, but Wolfram jerked himself out of Conrad’s touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Wolfram bellowed, his voice cracking. He glared heatedly at Yuuri, "I hate you so much that it makes me sick! I avoid you because I can't stand the sight of you! I can't stand being close to you!"

His hands trembled, not with fear. At least, that was what Wolfram told himself.

"You're creepy! You're weird! And you're wrong!" Wolfram stared directly into Yuuri's eyes. "You are just so wrong."

"I don't know what it is about you. I don't know what you're hiding, or why nobody else seems capable of noticing it, but there is something about you that makes me feel sick. You stand there smiling at everyone like you're some harmless little fool. You laugh and blush and trip over your own feet, and everyone looks at you as though you're the sweetest, most innocent creature they've ever seen."

His chest rose sharply, "But I don't believe it. There's something behind it! Something I can't explain!"

He looked around at the others, "What's wrong with all of you?! Can't you feel it? Can't any of you tell that something is wrong?!"

His eyes returned to Yuuri, the Soukoku had not moved. That was it, wasn’t it? Wolfram’s whole body shuddered and his chest twisted painfully. Realization set in and his eyes widened so much it hurt.

That was it!

The reason why Wolfram always felt uneasy around him! Why Wolfram felt uncomfortable! It’s because it was fake! The Soukoku wasn’t being honest! He was pretending to be this nice! He was faking it since the moment he entered Shin Mazoku! And nobody else had noticed it!

"You’re faking it.”

“You’re faking being so kind, so nice. It’s not real. You’re faking being this naïve and innocent!”

"Wolfram,” A deep voice cut sharply through the silence. Gwendal stood several feet away, his expression was terrifyingly calm. “Take a walk to cool off and then come to my office.”

Wolfram's eyes narrowed, "Fine!"

He turned sharply on his heel, with every ounce of dignity he could still gather around himself, Wolfram stormed away. His footsteps echoed loudly across the courtyard.

You would think that finally figuring it out would make Wolfram feel better, it did not. If anything, he felt worse. The sickening twist in his stomach remained, stubborn and heavy. His skin still prickled, and there was an unpleasant pressure sitting behind his ribs that refused to ease.

He wanted the Soukoku to disappear. No, he wished Yuuri had never appeared in Shin Makoku in the first place. Wolfram wanted to go back, back to before Yuuri had arrived. Before everything had become so complicated. Everything had been easier then.

He had known who he was. He had known who everyone else was. The world had made sense. Now, Wolfram felt as though he had been dropped into some twisted game where everyone else knew the rules except him. Wolfram grumbled furiously beneath his breath, balling his hands into fists at his sides as he marched out of the courtyard.

Great. Just great.

Now he was going to receive the most spectacular tongue-lashing from Gwendal. As if his day had not already been dreadful enough. He still did not understand it, Yuuri had been faking it.

Wolfram was sure of it now. There was something beneath that ridiculous smile. Something hidden behind those wide, innocent eyes and that painfully sweet voice. Wolfram had seen it, for just a second, he knew he had.

So why had nobody else noticed? Why was nobody else even suspicious? Why did everyone look at Yuuri as though he were some harmless, adorable little creature incapable of hurting a fly?

Why?

How could Yuuri fool everyone so completely? How could nobody see what Wolfram saw? Wolfram's jaw clenched.

"Fucking shit," he muttered bitterly.

He marched away, entirely unaware that Yuuri had not taken his eyes off him.

Back in the courtyard, Yuuri stood perfectly still. Everyone else remained too stunned to speak, they had all watched Wolfram storm away. Yet Yuuri continued to stare towards the courtyard doors, towards the place where Wolfram had disappeared.

The cheerful smile had slipped from his face, only for a moment. Something dark flickered behind his eyes. For the briefest second, there was nothing innocent about him but then Yuuri blinked. And it was gone.

His sweet expression returned as though it had never disappeared at all.

"Hm." Yuuri hummed quietly to himself.

Storming through the corridors and up the sweeping staircase towards Gwendal's office, Wolfram's rage slowly began to fade.

Only a little.

His insides were still twisting themselves into knots, his emotions rolling unpleasantly between frustration, humiliation and that lingering sense of unease he could never seem to shake whenever Yuuri was involved.

His stomach still felt sick, Wolfram hated that. He hated that even now, with Yuuri nowhere near him, his body refused to calm down. As he reached the top of the staircase, Wolfram slowed to a stop, and his anger faltered.

He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. Despite avoiding Yuuri, and, well, running away from him whenever possible, Wolfram had been on relatively good behaviour. Hadn't he? Gwendal had hardly needed to scold him lately. Wolfram's temper, for once, had remained mostly under control.

He had not challenged anyone to a duel. He had not set anything important on fire. He had not insulted any foreign dignitaries. So, really, he had been doing remarkably well, that his temper had finally exploded was hardly his fault.

Wolfram shivered, Gwendal had a temper too. It simply wasn't as noticeable as Wolfram's. Where Wolfram's anger burned brightly and loudly, Gwendal's was quieter and, in Wolfram's opinion, considerably more terrifying. Growing up, Wolfram had done his best to avoid finding himself on the receiving end of his eldest brother's anger.

Gwendal possessed a particular talent for making people feel small. He did not need to raise his voice, that was the worst part. Wolfram sighed heavily. This was not going to be pleasant, was it? Gwendal was angry with him but it wasn't Wolfram's fault.

Yuuri was wrong. There was simply no other way to explain it. He had been faking it from the moment he had arrived in Shin Makoku.  Wolfram knew it now. Yuuri hadn’t been as kind as he lets on. It was all fake. It was not his fault that nobody else had noticed.

Tilting his head, Wolfram wandered towards one of the tall windows lining the corridor. He peered through the glass, from where he stood, he could see down into the front courtyard. His frown deepened so severely that his face began to ache. He could see the Soukoku still standing below. That stupid fake smile was still on his face.

Wolfram's stomach immediately twisted, he pressed one hand against it. Yuuri was speaking with Conrad and Günter, beaming brightly as though nothing unusual had happened. As though Wolfram had not just screamed in front of half the castle and accused him of being a fake.

He narrowed his eyes. How could he act so normal? How could he stand there smiling? Did nothing embarrass him? Did nothing bother him? The thought made Wolfram's skin crawl, Gwendal was nowhere to be seen well, obviously. His eldest brother was currently waiting in his office, preparing to deliver the inevitable lecture Wolfram was about to receive for causing such a spectacular scene in front of everyone.

The guards and maids appeared to have dispersed, hurrying back towards their duties. Wolfram could only imagine the gossip already spreading through the castle. His eyebrows lifted as he watched Yuuri, Conrad and Günter finally begin making their way back towards the castle.

Stepping away from the window, Wolfram did not know where his mother had wandered off to. Honestly, he did not care, he simply wanted this over with. The quicker, the better. With an irritated scuff of his shoe, Wolfram pushed his golden hair away from his face and began climbing the remaining steps.

His thoughts continued to circle relentlessly. Stupid Yuuri. Stupid, stupid, asshole. His eyes drifted towards the open doors of the Maou's office. The room beyond was empty. Wolfram had done his best to avoid entering that office since his mother was no longer the Maou.

Something about it felt strange now. The office had belonged to Cäcilie once, now it belonged to Yuuri. Wolfram's expression darkened, he had no desire to go inside, not now. Not ever, if he could help it.

Huffing loudly, Wolfram threw his nose into the air and marched past the open doors. He made his way further down the corridor until he reached Gwendal's office, the door was closed. Wolfram stopped, his lips thinned and a shiver ran down his spine.

Well, alright. He could do this. It would not be the last time Gwendal was angry with him, would it? Wolfram grumbled beneath his breath, closed his eyes and rapped his knuckles sharply against the door.

For a few moments, there was nothing, Wolfram frowned. Maybe Gwendal wasn't inside yet?

"Come in,” The deep voice from the other side was unmistakably his brother's and unmistakably angry.

Wolfram swallowed thickly. So much for that. He forced his shoulders back, lifted his chin and arranged his face into what he hoped was an expression of complete indifference. Then he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He allowed it to click shut behind him.

The atmosphere changed immediately. Wolfram could almost taste Gwendal's anger. It hung thickly in the room, heavy and oppressive, as though the air itself had become difficult to breathe.

His brother stood with his back to him, facing the tall windows overlooking the castle grounds. His arms were clasped behind his back, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his uniform.

Wolfram eyed him warily; he knew that stance. Gwendal was thinking. That was never a good sign. Wolfram shifted his weight, he waited and waited.

“Well, have you got anything to say for yourself?” Gwendal's voice was harsh and cut through the air immediately. Wolfram flinched and clamped his mouth shut. His nose flared.

"What were you thinking? Causing a scene like that?"

Gwendal turned slowly. His expression was not explosive, it was worse. He looked exhausted. Utterly, profoundly exhausted. His eyes settled upon Wolfram, and the younger man immediately felt as though he had somehow become ten years old again and had been caught setting fire to something expensive.

"You stood in the middle of the courtyard," Gwendal continued, "In front of the guards, the maids, our family and the Maou himself, and proceeded to accuse him of being a fraud."

Wolfram's jaw tightened, "You don't understand."

"I was afraid you were going to say that,” Gwendal sighed. His eyes closed, a new wrinkle was already forming across his forehead.

"Something is wrong with the new Heika,” Wolfram tried. His heart was beginning to pound. He begged for Gwendal to believe him! He isn’t crazy! He’s not!

"Wolfram."

"I'm being serious!"

Gwendal opened his eyes again, "Then explain it."

Wolfram hesitated. His anger faltered beneath the sudden demand. Explain it?

"I..."

He looked away. How was he supposed to explain something he could barely understand himself?

"He feels wrong," Wolfram finally said quietly, "Like he's not actually what he pretends to be."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Gwendal shook his head slowly.

"The smile!" Wolfram snapped heatedly. He could tell by Gwendal’s expression, he wasn’t listening to him. He didn’t believe him. "That stupid smile he always has!"

Wolfram stepped forwards, his frustration bubbling over again, "He says all the right things. He smiles at everyone. He acts kind and helpless and naïve, and everyone falls for it!"

"Because he is kind,” Gwendal bluntly stated.

Shaking his head wildly, Wolfram throws both hands up, "You don't know that!"

Gwendal's expression hardened, "I know enough."

"No, you don't!" Wolfram's voice cracked, "He watches people! He watches them when they aren't looking. He knows things he shouldn't know. He says things like he means them, but it feels-"

He stopped, his stomach twisted. The memory of Yuuri's gaze made his skin crawl.

"It feels like he's pretending."

Gwendal rubbed his forehead, "Wolfram, enough."

"No!" The word came out almost desperately, "He feels wrong and I won't serve someone I don't trust. Send me back to Bielefeld, I don’t want to be here with him! I don’t want to serve someone like him! I won’t follow a Moah like him!"

The words burst from him before he could stop them. "I don't care! Send me home. I would rather live there than stay here and pretend everything is fine when it isn't!"

"Wolfram, that would be considered mercy,” Gwendal sharply said, stepping away from the window, “I don’t think you quite understand what you have done. For what you did today, you could be accused of treason."

Wolfram's expression faltered, "Treason?"

"You publicly insulted the Maou,” Gwendal's voice finally thundered through the room. He rarely raised his voice. When he did, it shook the walls, "You will listen to me."

Wolfram's mouth snapped shut. Gwendal took a slow breath, visibly attempting to rein in his temper.

"The maids are already talking. By sunset, half the kingdom will know that you insulted the Maou in front of the entire castle. Do you understand what that means?" Gwendal demanded. His eyebrows twitched when Wolfram huffed, "It means they'll gossip. It means people will question your loyalty."

"I am loyal!” Wolfram blurted.

"Then act like it."

The words struck harder than Wolfram expected. His expression darkened. It hurt a lot for Gwendal to say that. To look at him like Wolfram had lost it. Like Wolfram was the sick one here and the faker down the corridor. Why? Why couldn’t he believe him? Did he seriously trust Yuuri that much?

"You are not a child anymore, Wolfram."

"I know that,” Wolfram grumbled.

"Do you?" Gwendal said,"Because at the moment, you are behaving like one. You throw a tantrum whenever something displeases you. You storm away when you don't get the answer you want. You insult the Maou in front of everyone and then demand that we simply accept your explanation because you have decided something is wrong."

"I'm telling you something is wrong!"

Gwendal groaned. He sounded and looked even more tired, "And I am telling you that feelings are not proof!"

Wolfram's fists clenched. He felt like the room seemed to shrink around them, "I don't have to prove what I can see!"

"Yes, you do,” Gwendal stated sternly. He levelled Wolfram a look, "You are asking everyone else to distrust the Maou based entirely upon your instincts, Wolfram!"

"They're good instincts!"

"They are your instincts!"

Wolfram's breathing became ragged, "You don't believe me."

"I believe that you are frightened."

Frightened? What does Wolfram to be frightened off?

Gwendal's expression softened, but only slightly, "And I believe that you don't understand why."

"I'm not frightened,” Wolfram's throat tightened.

"Then why have you spent weeks avoiding him?" Gwendal asked, his expression pinching. Almost like he already knew the answer. He leaned back against his desk, "I don't know whether this supposed crush of yours has become too much for you to deal with-"

"I do not have a crush on him!" Wolfram's voice practically exploded. His fingers curled so tightly into his palms that his nails bit into his skin, "I hate him! Can everyone stop saying I like him!"

"I'm not imagining it, something is wrong with him!” Wolfram whined, rubbing his face with both hands, "You don't believe me, why don’t you believe me?"

"I believe that you feel overwhelmed by your new feelings,” Gwendal's eyes hardened again, "But regardless of what you feel, you cannot behave as you did today."

Wolfram's jaw tightened.

"You know the laws. Heika has every right to punish you for publicly insulting him. Depending upon how seriously your actions are interpreted, you could be stripped of your position, your privileges and potentially exiled."

Wolfram's mouth closed. The anger drained from his face, for the first time since entering the room, he looked young. He didn’t think about that. The Soukoku could absolutely do something to him now, under the guidelines of his own position and laws. Nothing could stop him. Nobody would question him. Would Yuuri do that to him? Wolfram wasn’t sure. He didn’t really know who the real Yuuri was, underneath that fake prevenance.

Nobody was taking him seriously anyway. Everyone, Gwendal included, believe Wolfram liked Yuuri. That had a crush on him. Ridiculous. Wolfram had relationships in the past, he didn’t have much experience, but he had partners. He had never run from them like this. How insulting.

"I don't want that to happen."

It was no help. Gwendal clearly didn’t believe a word Wolfram said. It made sense, he guessed. It was bitter, a bitter pill to swallow. Nobody ever took him seriously. Everyone always brushed him aside as the selfish, bitter and spoiled third prince. Gwendal and Conrad, both tried him like a kid, still. Besides, Wolfram didn’t want to lose everything he had fought so hard to gain but admitting that felt like surrender.

"What will you have me to do?" he muttered.

"You are going to apologise."

Wolfram looked up sharply, heat sunk into his cheeks, "What?"

"You heard me,” Gwendal narrowed his eyes at him. Wolfram’s mouth gapped as he stared at Gwendal in disbelief, "You will go to the Moah’s office, you will apologise for your behaviour, and hope to dear heaven’s he will forgive you. I don’t care how overwhelming your new feelings for him are, you cannot go around acting like you just did."

"But-" Wolfram’s throat burned. His voice was so small.

Go to the Moah’s office? Alone? That meant, he had to face Yuuri alone. By himself with nobody else around. Wolfram’s heart pounded with anxiousness. He didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to go stand in front of him.

“No buts Wolfram,” Gwendal grunted sharply, “It is time you grow up.”

Sourly, Wolfram muttered something beneath his breath. He saw no other way. He had to do something he desperately didn’t want to do.

"What was that?"

"I said fine,” he hissed sharply.

Gwendal stared at him for another moment before pinching the bridge of his nose, "Shinou help me."

Wolfram scowled. He wanted to argue; he wanted to try to stand his ground. He thought better of it. For once, he decided that arguing further would probably result in Gwendal physically dragging him to the Moah's office. And, humiliatingly, Wolfram suspected his brother was entirely capable of doing exactly that.

He turned towards the door; his hand settled on the handle. Then his stomach twisted again. The image of Yuuri's smiling face flashed through his mind. Wolfram shuddered; he hated this. he hated the fact that he was now being sent directly back towards the one person he had been desperately trying to avoid.

"Be careful with your words. Do not make it worse.”

Flinching, Wolfram gave Gwendal one last glare before leaving the office. He slammed the door shut behind him, harder than necessary and entirely on purpose. He hated this. He hated that nobody believed him. Worse, Gwendal clearly thought this was all because Wolfram had developed some ridiculous crush on the new King.

How laughable. It was insulting.

Wolfram huffed so deeply that his throat burned. He stalked down the corridor, his boots striking the stone with sharp, angry clicks, before abruptly kicking the wall.

Pain shot through his foot; he kicked it again anyway. He wasn't crazy, he wasn't. And he certainly didn't have feelings for the Soukoku.

Well...

Perhaps if Yuuri wasn't such a creepy little faker, Wolfram might have found him attractive. There was something about Yuuri's face, something almost painfully innocent about those wide, dark eyes and that soft smile. He could understand why everyone else seemed so taken with him.

Yuuri was handsome. Wolfram wasn't blind. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, there was something oddly attractive about him. In another circumstance, perhaps Wolfram might even have…he stopped himself.

Gah! What was he even thinking?

This was their fault. All of them. Gwendal, Günter, Cornard, Gisela, everyone who kept insisting Wolfram had a crush on Yuuri whenever he tried to explain what was wrong.

He didn't! He had never said he liked Yuuri. He had said there was something wrong with him, there was a difference. A very important difference.

Wolfram dragged a hand through his hair and continued down the corridor, his temper slowly giving way to a sour knot of dread in his stomach. The door to the Maoh's office was closed, Wolfram slowed and his stomach rolled violently.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

That meant Yuuri was inside. His mouth suddenly felt dry, he didn't want to do this. He really, really didn't. But Gwendal was right about one thing. After the scene Wolfram had caused in the courtyard, the Soukoku had every right to punish him. Yuuri was the Moah. He could strip Wolfram of his title, his position, his wealth, everything he loved and everything he had spent his life protecting.

He could exile him, outcast him. Cast him from the castle and tell everyone that Wolfram von Bielefeld had disgraced himself before his king. Wolfram would almost prefer being sent home to Bielefeld as punishment. At least there, he would know where he stood but exile was different.

Exile meant losing everything. And nobody would question Yuuri's decision. Nobody would even believe Wolfram if he tried to explain why. So, he had no choice. He had to apologise. The thought sat in his stomach like a bitter, sour stone. He had to stand before the Soukoku and force the words out while those ridiculously large, far-too-innocent eyes watched him.

Wolfram's nose twitched. He wanted to turn around; he wanted to run. His body seemed to make the decision before his mind did, shifting backwards half a step. His honour wouldn't allow it. And, besides, Gwendal would probably grab him by the ear and drag him into the office himself if he refused.

With a resigned sigh, Wolfram raised one weak, trembling hand and knocked lightly. A ridiculous part of him hoped Yuuri wouldn't hear. Unfortunately, Wolfram had never been blessed with good fortune.

"Oh, come in." Yuuri's to bright and happy voice drifted through the door.

Wolfram shuddered. Now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear the falseness in it. The sweetness was too polished. Too carefully measured. Like honey poured over something rotten. The Soukoku barely knew them, he didn’t know any of them. How could he possibly sound so warm?

Inhaling deeply, Wolfram tried to steady himself, then pushed the door open. Günter was inside. The relief that flashed through Wolfram was embarrassingly intense. The two appeared to be going through a mountain of paperwork, with Günter standing beside Yuuri's desk and pointing enthusiastically at various documents.

Wolfram immediately looked anywhere but at Yuuri.

Günter noticed him first, his expression soured.

"Oh."

That single word somehow managed to sound like an insult. Wolfram's jaw tightened and Yuuri, however, looked up. He had that smile on his face, but for the briefest instant, Wolfram thought he saw something else beneath it. Was that amusement. Like he wasn’t surprised to see Wolfram and found it amusing?

It vanished so quickly.

"Um..." Wolfram began awkwardly.

"I hope you have crawled here to apologise," Günter snorted, tilting his chin upwards. "After such a heinous scene outside, I am surprised you even had the audacity to show your face today."

Ass-whip.

Ass-whip.

Pretty, pompous ass-whip.

Wolfram's hands curled into fists at his sides. His teeth ground together. He wanted to bare his teeth and tell Günter exactly what he could do with his precious opinion. He opened his mouth; the insult already poised on his tongue and Yuuri laughed.

It was a soft, pleasant little laugh, almost musical. He raised one hand towards Günter.

"It's okay, Günter. Honestly." Yuuri's smile widened sweetly, "I'm sure Wolfram has come here to apologise, right?"

Blinking, Wolfram gulped.  Yuuri was staring directly at him now. There was nothing threatening in his expression, nothing at all. That was the problem. Yuuri didn’t even look angry with him when he should be.

"I... yes." His voice came out weaker than he intended, "I have... come to, er, apologise. I mean..."

Günter gave a dissatisfied hum. His expression made it painfully clear that he didn't believe Wolfram was capable of genuine remorse.

"Günter?" Yuuri called pleasantly.

Like a dog with a bone, Günter spun towards the King, "Yes, Heika?"

"If you don't mind, may I have a moment of privacy with Wolfram?" Yuuri was already beginning to rise from behind his desk and Wolfram's head snapped towards him.

His stomach dropped. Privacy? That meant Yuuri wanted to talk to Wolfram alone! Alone, just the two of them! Wolfram doesn’t want that!

"But, Heika!" Günter gasped, looking genuinely offended by the suggestion.

Wolfram stared at him. Surely, he wouldn't leave. Surely Günter wouldn't actually leave him alone with Yuuri after what had happened in the courtyard. Günter practically worshipped the man. He wouldn't abandon Yuuri in a room with Wolfram.

Would he?

Please don't leave.

The thought came so desperately that Wolfram almost said it aloud. He wanted Günter to stay, he needed him to stay.

Yuuri smiled innocently, "It'll be fine, Günter."

He tilted his head, his expression so guileless that Wolfram felt a strange chill creep beneath his skin.

"It won't take long. I promise,” Yuuri stretched out a hand and lightly patted the stack of paperwork on his desk, "Then we can go over all of this together."

He placed a little extra emphasis on the final word. Together. Wolfram's eyebrows rose. Something about the way Yuuri said it made the back of his neck prickle.

He looked at Günter. Günter, meanwhile, appeared to have been offered a personal invitation to heaven.

"Of course, Heika. I will give you a moment of privacy,” He bowed deeply and Wolfram's stomach sank.

"Thanks, Günter," Yuuri said brightly.

Günter turned pink, actually pink. He flashed Wolfram a dirty look as he passed him, then disappeared through the doorway.

The door clicked shut and silence settled over the office. Wolfram’s heart seemed to have fallen straight into his stomach. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned around, Yuuri was watching him. Of course, he was still smiling.

Except...the smile had changed. It was smaller now. The innocent warmth had faded from it, leaving something Wolfram couldn't quite name. It looked right on Yuuri’s face, it was odd really. As if Wolfram had gotten used to that fake smile Yuuri always used.

Yuuri cleared his throat.

"Now, Wolfram,” He gestured towards the chair on the other side of the desk, "Why don't you have a seat?"

Wolfram didn't move and Yuuri's smile remained.

"We have rather a lot to talk about, don't we?"

Something in his voice made Wolfram's skin crawl, it was subtle. It was different. The softness was still present, yet somehow it felt thinner now, as though Wolfram had finally noticed the hand inside the velvet glove.

His mouth went dry. It was different to the voice Yuuri used when everyone else was watching had been sweet, uncertain and almost painfully naive. This voice was calmer; it took on a whole new edge to it.  Wolfram's pulse began to hammer and with shaky legs, he forced himself forwards.

The chair seemed absurdly far away. When he finally reached it, his knees nearly gave out beneath him. He dropped into it rather than sat, gripping the edges as though the wood might somehow nail him to the ground.

Wolfram couldn't look up. He didn't want to.

He had hardly been frightened of anything in his life. Even an hour ago, when he had marched into the courtyard and openly confronted the Soukoku, he hadn't been afraid. Angry, perhaps. Frustrated sure. Uncomfortable, definitely. But never frightened.  Now, everything felt different, he couldn't explain it.

The office of the Moah had never seemed particularly intimidating to him. Wolfram had spent countless hours in this room while growing up, usually at his mother's side. He knew the heavy curtains, the polished desk, the familiar scent of old books and parchment. He knew the room.

Yet, somehow, it had changed.

The shadows seemed deeper than they had any right to be. The air felt thick and strangely stale, as though the room had been sealed shut for years. Even the familiar scent had become unpleasant, sharper somehow, clinging to the back of his throat.

Wolfram swallowed, he didn't know what was happening to him. His skin prickled. The hairs along the back of his neck stood rigidly on end.

Yuuri cleared his throat and Wolfram flinched.

"I believe you came here to apologise, didn't you?" Yuuri asked. There was something smug beneath the question.

Wolfram's head jerked upwards before he could stop himself. For one bewildered second, he simply stared. It was Yuuri who had spoken. Was he angry after all? But Yuuri was smiling. Not the gentle, harmless smile he had been wearing all morning. This one was wider somehow, almost amused, as though he found Wolfram's discomfort entertaining.

"Well?" Yuuri prompted. He rested an elbow upon the desk and leisurely cupped his chin in his palm, watching Wolfram with an almost boyish curiosity.

"Oh. Um... right." Wolfram's mouth had suddenly gone dry. "I... I apologise for..."

He faltered. His shoulders hunched instinctively, and he pressed both hands against his knees to keep them from trembling.

"For how I acted," Yuuri supplied.

"R-Right. Yes." Wolfram forced the words out. "I apologise for how I acted outside. Because it was highly... um..."

"Inappropriate of you," Yuuri finished pleasantly.

"Yes." Wolfram's throat tightened. "It was very inappropriate of me to act like that."

He drew in a deep, shaky breath before ducking his head and bowing as low as he could.

"I truly apologise."

Heat crept up his neck and spread across his ears. The silence that followed was unbearable. It seemed to stretch endlessly, pressing down upon him until he could scarcely breathe beneath it. Wolfram wanted to leave. He wanted to get out of this room, more than that, he wanted to run.

He wanted to put as much distance between himself and Yuuri as physically possible.

"Hmm." Yuuri hummed deliberately, slowly rolling his wrist as he tilted his head. He closed his eyes as though seriously considering the apology and then he opened them.

"I don't actually believe you're sincere."

Wolfram's head snapped up, "W-What?"

"I don't think you mean it,” Yuuri bluntly said, his gaze unmoving from Wolfram’s face.

"I do!" Wolfram blurted. "I really am sorry!"

Yuuri clicked his tongue. There was a strange glimmer in his eyes, something had changed. The corners crinkled, but not with warmth. His eyes no longer appeared large and innocent. They suddenly looked smaller, sharper, watchful. It was almost predatory, like the noblemen and women Wolfram used to deal with during balls, but different. More dangerous and just…something else sharper.

"You're not going to exile me, are you?" The question escaped Wolfram before he could stop it. His voice sounded embarrassingly small now. So different compared to how it was before when speaking with Yuuri.

"It depends."

Yuuri's fingers began tapping against the desk.

"On what?" Wolfram whispered.

Yuuri smile widened, growing sharper at the edges, "Can you beg me not to?"

"…You…want me to beg?" Wolfram stared at him. His eyes widened, his stomach dropping so violently that he thought he might be sick.

Yuuri was staring straight back. For a moment, he looked completely serious. The smile remained upon his lips, but it had curled into something thinner now. Something that looked almost cruel. But then Yuuri laughed. It wasn't his usual laugh; it wasn't warm or sweet or infectious. It was deeper.

"Relax, Wolfram." Yuuri snickered, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I'm not going to exile you. I'm not going to make you beg like a dog, either."

Wolfram visibly sagged. The tension drained from his shoulders so abruptly that he nearly slumped into the chair.

"Of course, I'm going to put it in the past." Yuuri smiled again. "What's done is done, right?"

"Oh,” Wolfram slowly nodded. The terrible tightness in his stomach loosened a fraction. He was safe. Or well, sort of safe he guessed. He wasn't going to be exiled. He wasn't going to be cast out of Shin Makoku, stripped of his title and position, separated from everything and everyone he loved.

Perhaps this had all been some terrible misunderstanding.

"On one condition, of course."

The relief vanished and Wolfram's body stiffened. Every muscle seemed to lock at once, he looked up. Yuuri's expression had changed. There was no smile now. His face had become utterly blank. His eyes were dark and unreadable, fixed upon Wolfram with an intensity that made the blonde feel suddenly very, very small.

Wolfram couldn't speak. His mouth had gone dry. His heart began hammering against his ribs, each beat louder than the last. His hands trembled against his knees, and he curled his fingers into his palms in a desperate attempt to hide it.

He felt like a child being reprimanded and that infuriated him. It should have infuriated him. Instead, he was afraid.

"Condition?" he managed. The word barely made it past his lips.

"Yes.”

“One condition,” Yuuri nodded, e raised one hand, "What you pulled this morning. Down in the courtyard."

Wolfram's breath caught. For a moment, the room seemed to grow colder. The air pressed against his skin until it became difficult to breathe. Wolfram could have sworn he heard distant thunder beyond the windows. His eyes flickered towards them. The sky was perfectly still. When he looked back, Yuuri was watching him.

"Don't ever do that again,” His voice had lost every trace of its previous warmth. And infinitely more frightening for it, "I mean it, Wolfram."

Wolfram swallowed.

"Don't ever step out of your place like that again,” The words settled over him like a sentence, "If you want to avoid me, run away from me. Hide from me. So be it, do whatever you like."

"I don't really care,” Yuuri's gaze never wavered. He generally appeared uncaring, completely different to the Soukoku who had been living here for the past few months, "But don't ever try that again.”

String at Yuuri, something inside Wolfram’s chest seemed to collapse. So, he had been right. All this time, he had been right. The sweetness, the innocence, the naivety, the helpless little smiles and awkward laughter he had seen Yuuri do in the past…It had all been an act. Wolfram's stomach churned, he felt suddenly nauseous. He had been right.

He had spent days wondering whether there was something wrong with him. Whether he had imagined the strange looks, the unsettling moments, the subtle changes in Yuuri's behaviour. Everyone else seemed perfectly comfortable around him.

Everyone else thought Yuuri was harmless, but Wolfram had seen it. And now that he had, he wished desperately that he hadn't. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Yuuri leaned forward slightly, a curl of a smile returning now, "Do we have an understanding, Wolf-ram?"

The deliberate pronunciation of his name made Wolfram's skin crawl. How…how was Yuuri able to trick everyone so well? How was he able to hide this so well?  Fear twisted through his stomach, cold and suffocating.

"Yes, Heika.”

"Good."

And just like that, the darkness disappeared. Yuuri's face brightened, the sweet smile returned. His eyes widened, almost childlike again.

"Great!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "I'm sure we can get along wonderfully from now on!"

"Um... may I be excused now, Heika?" Wolfram asked. He couldn't bring himself to look at Yuuri anymore.

His head remained bowed, his face drained of colour. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel each frantic beat in his throat. His stomach churned, and he swallowed repeatedly, terrified that he might be sick.

He had been right. That was the thought he couldn't escape. He had seen through Yuuri's perfectly constructed mask, but what happened now? What was Yuuri going to do to him? And how had he managed to hide it so well?

How had he pulled the wool over everyone's eyes so completely? Everyone adored him, everyone trusted him. And yet Wolfram had just seen what lurked behind that sweet smile.

"Of course," Yuuri replied. He rose leisurely from his chair. Both hands settled softly upon the surface of his desk as he leaned forward, still smiling at Wolfram.

And there it was again, the innocent mask. It slipped neatly back into place as though nothing had happened. His expression softened, his features once again taking on that harmless, almost boyish quality.

Only his eyes betrayed him, they remained dark. And his smile, though pleasant, was still just a little too thin. A little too sharp.

Wolfram hurriedly pushed himself to his feet, he needed to leave. Now. Before he throws up in front of the Soukoku. The need to escape had become almost overwhelming. He could feel it clawing at his chest, urging him towards the door.

"Oh, one more thing, Wolfram."

The blonde froze. A small shudder ran through him.

Yuuri was still smiling, "Call me Yuuri. I really don’t like you calling me Heika."

Wolfram stared at him. His mouth opened, but no sound came, he didn't trust his voice. So, he simply nodded and then he practically fled. He reached the door and pulled it open so quickly that he nearly collided with Günter on the other side.

"Woah.”

Günter jerked backwards as Wolfram practically sprang past him. The older man frowned, watching the blonde disappear down the corridor. He pushed a loose lock of lavender over his shoulder.

"Heika?" Günter asked, concern creeping into his voice. "Are you all right? The little lord brat didn't do anything, did he?"

Yuuri blinked. For the briefest moment, there was nothing on his face but then his expression brightened. His smile became warm, the room itself seemed to change with him. The oppressive atmosphere vanished. The shadows no longer seemed so deep. The office suddenly felt brighter, warmer, almost cosy. As though the darkness Wolfram had felt moments ago had never existed at all.

"Wolfram was perfectly fine," Yuuri said cheerfully. "Don't worry, I've forgiven him. We’ve came to an agreement on the matter. It is all in the past and we’re ready to move forward.”

Günter’s expression immediately softened, "Heika! You're too kind!"

Yuuri gave a small, bashful laugh. Günter stepped into the office without another thought, completely reassured. He didn't spare Wolfram another glance.

So, this was it.

This was the real Yuuri Shibuya. Not the awkward, sweet and harmless boy everyone else had welcomed so readily, not the innocent Soukoku, Wolfram had initially dismissed as merely strange.

This was the person who had been hiding beneath it all.