Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Inexorable Flow ❯ Part 19 ( Chapter 19 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! - It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male), Yuuri x Wolfram. Some other pairings. Angst. Adult topics.

A/N 1: Age: Yuuri - 43. Wolfram…let's say he is about the same age as Yuuri just a little older. Lakarde - 10.

 

Inexorable Flow

 

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Melisenda

 

Part 19

 

Had Amae been a simple servant, the matter would not have reached the king. It was a pity that he wasn't. Annoyed, Yuuri cast his eyes over the approaching former concubine. He was being led by one guard, another guard following him. Amae's step was firm, although not challenging. It seemed that the man was not sure why he was here, but was prepared to defend himself in any way possible.

 

From up close, Yuuri could see Amae's puffy lip, the bruised nose and black swollen eye. Despite that, Amae looked nothing like a criminal. The stance, and the clear, intelligent eyes said the opposite.

 

The incident had taken place yesterday, late at night. One of the attackers had been seriously injured. Gisela had informed Yuuri that his life was not in danger.

 

The king turned to his right side, to where his husband sat on his throne. He could not decipher the expression the blond wore. He was either amused or annoyed or all at once.

 

“Well, you're responsible for him, you deal with this,” Yuuri muttered. He turned to stare at Amae who was stopped in front of them. Amae made a deep bow.

 

“I don't think there's much to deal with,” retorted Wolfram at the displeasure in Yuuri's voice.

 

“You're taking this too lightly,” Yuuri warned him.

 

Wolfram offered him a smile. “He is a victim, Yuuri. There is nothing to take it too lightly.”

 

Yuuri felt himself drawing back from that smile. Wolfram was right to some extent, he knew that. Despite that, it irritated Yuuri. Most of the time the blond was not really interested in these kinds of affairs. Other times… Other times, he was used to Wolfram knowing his nature and trying to pacify him and avoid making him jealous. Why the hell when it came to Amae, wouldn't Wolfram budge even a millimeter? Why when it came to Amae, was it that Wolfram's behavior turned unpredictable? Yuuri didn't like feeling so uncomfortable, so unsure of his own husband.

 

“But to burn him like that!” Yuuri disagreed. “It was too much!”

 

Wolfram's eyes flashed at him with unspoken ferocity. “Yuuri, when did you become a hypocrite?” the blond asked in a voice that would have sounded like a mild reproach if not for very clear warning undertones and the eyes that were ablaze with emerald.

 

Superficially, the remark told Yuuri that Wolfram would have done the same in Amae's shoes, but Yuuri, thinking that his husband had no precedent to be so angry and so emotionally involved over this, caught on to what was hidden underneath. Yuuri suddenly knew where it was coming from.

 

Instead of replying, Yuuri closed his mouth. Wordlessly, he stared at Wolfram.

 

He knew. Now he knew for sure what it was between Wolfram and Amae. He also knew why Wolfram was so bent on this. He had always suspected that there had been something, something that Wolfram had never told him, but now he knew for sure. Frowning, he stared at his husband for a minute, their gazes fighting, but for an entirely different reason than Wolfram thought. Then, surprising Wolfram, Yuuri suddenly lost interest in him and turned back to Amae.

 

“I was informed that this was not the first time you were harassed. Why haven't you complained?” Yuuri asked him. Now he just wanted to deal with the annoying concubine quickly, so that he would have some time to think everything over. Now this was just a formality.

 

Amae gave the king an amused look. “Would have it changed anything?”

 

Suddenly, Wolfram looked angry. “Are you accusing His Majesty of disregard of His subjects?” he hissed in a soft low voice, ready to pulverize Amae; not only had Amae kept silent, now he was also shifting the blame to his husband!

 

From Yuuri, Amae's eyes went to Wolfram. The former concubine's face paled at the sight of the unconcealed wrath. Yuuri got the feeling that Amae was more afraid of Wolfram than him. This irritated him somewhat.

 

“Really, are you?” Yuuri asked Amae, seconding Wolfram.

 

Amae gritted his teeth. He felt he was treading on dangerous grounds. “No, I'm not.”

 

“That's good,” Wolfram said. “Because my husband is a righteous king. But he can't read your mind if you keep your mouth shut, can he?”

 

From the way all of this was phrased, Yuuri understood that Wolfram was angry with Amae for letting it all go so far. Unfocusing his gaze, Yuuri propped an elbow on the arm of his throne, resting his chin on his fist while he watched Amae from the corner of his eye. He was not that sure what to do with the former concubine. Things could not stay as they were. He did not like Amae, and he did not like Amae being anywhere near Wolfram. Even though, now he had completely different reasons for not liking that.

 

“Restore his water element and put him under Gisela's direction.”

 

Yuuri turned to look at Wolfram incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” But Wolfram's emerald gaze was firm. Yuuri felt the urge to sigh.

 

The blond stood up from the throne, crossing his arms and taking a step forward. “You want to punish him, right?” Wolfram stressed, his tone annoyed, but at the same time having a touch of amusement. “Well, once you restore his power, he can immediately start redeeming himself by tending to that rapist's wounds.”

 

Yuuri watched his husband. “Are you sure you aren't being too lenient?” he asked then, although he knew that at this stage the question was pointless. Besides, he had already given Wolfram permission to deal with Amae, which meant he didn't have much say now.

 

“He would be of much more use if he just worked with Gisela.” Wolfram stared down at Amae. “You did like working with her earlier?” Amae gave a slow nod. “Sign the transfer order, then,” Wolfram said to Yuuri.

 

Yuuri thought for a moment. That would have been fine with him if not for Amae being a concubine of an enemy. Nobody knew what Amae might do. He had no such trust in Amae as Wolfram had. He protested, “But…”

 

“He will behave. Won't you?” Wolfram addressed Amae again.

 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Amae gave a short bow. He watched the king motion for his clerks. One of them ran over to Yuuri immediately and held out a pen and a sheet of paper. The prince walked over to the king's throne and propped himself on it while watching what his husband was writing.

 

Amae met the king's eyes as the king lifted his head from the paper for a second to give him a dark gaze. At first Amae thought that it was the usual jealousy deep in those dark eyes. Then he realized he could see past that. It wasn't just jealousy. It was more serious than that.

 

XXXXX

 

The day was cold and misty, the autumn dampness permeating the castle, only hearths and fireplaces helping to fight it off. It was warm in the kitchen though, the smells of cooking still in the air. The cooks and servants were already gone, only one person left to clean the mess the kitchen usually turned into after every meal.

 

From the doorway, Wolfram watched Amae's back while the man was washing the kitchen floor. This was the last day Amae would be working in the kitchen. Amae had his hair in a plait, the ends of his tunic tied in a knot so as not to sweep the floor that he was scrubbing heartily. From time to time he would unwrap the cloth from the end of the broomstick and wash it in the bucket of murky steaming water beside him. Wolfram guessed that Amae was thorough in everything he did. Be it scrubbing or sex.

 

“Need any money for a start?”

 

Amae started, his hand with the mop slipping wetly over the floor and smacking against a table. He turned around.

 

“Sorry. I though you might need some new clothes or something in your new…hmm…apprenticeship?”

 

“It's fine.” Amae shook his head. He turned his attention back to the dirty floor. “The Great Sage brought most of my clothes from Aliran. But thanks for the thought.”

 

“You might find that some people won't appreciate you wearing tunics without pants underneath them. It's not common here.”

 

“Well, alright, I'll ask Gisela to lend me a few coins. I doubt she'll refuse.”

 

“Hmm?” Wolfram raised an eyebrow, even though as Amae was keeping his gaze trained on the floor, he could not see this.

 

“Well, look here,” Amae said to the floor where he gave a particularly hard scrub to a puddle of dried something that he could not identify. “Your husband already sees red at the very sight of me. I don't want any more trouble between you and him.”

 

“You can be quite considerate when you want, can't you?” Wolfram teased.

 

“I'm always considerate, mind you,” Amae retorted. “To the point I get into situations like these. I think I should have just left you lying unconscious back there on Aliran. None of this would have happened.”

 

“Regretting your decision?”

 

“No. Just like wagging my tongue. Recently not many people try talking to me. Raping they do, but talking seems a bit more difficult matter.”

 

Wolfram sighed. “Have it your way.” He walked into the kitchen and sat down at one of the tables.

 

“I've just washed there, you know. The floor's still wet.”

 

“Are you alright?” Wolfram asked, ignoring the former concubine's complaints. He looked at the still yellowish bruise under Amae's eye and the healing lip. It seemed that his nose was also healing well. Nonetheless, both of them knew he was not asking about flesh wounds.

 

Amae shrugged. “I'll survive. I always do.”

 

Wolfram sighed. He put his elbows on the table and propped his head on his palm. Silently, he watched Amae working. He was not angry anymore about Amae keeping silent about his troubles - Amae simply had different views on this matter. Wolfram thought that he had probably made a mistake of subconsciously starting to treat Amae like a woman. Despite all what happened, Amae had his own pride.

 

“Have you been thinking about going back to Aliran or Ekara?” Wolfram asked him after a while.

 

“No, I haven't. They don't interest me at all.”

 

“If Faraya…”

 

“If he returns to either of them, I'll stay here anyway. With His Highness' permission, of course,” Amae made a theatrical bow with the mop in his right hand.

 

“Actually, with my husband's permission.”

 

Amae leered at him. “Sure.” Then he returned to cleaning. “You sure have him on a short leash.”

 

“I think it's the other way round,” Wolfram muttered. “His jealousy is too much lately.”

 

“Well, I do understand where it's coming from,” Amae said.

 

“So do I. But…”

 

“Hyaiiiii!”

 

Wolfram's head shot up at the scream which was followed by the bucket being knocked over, the dirty water squirting free. Then Wolfram's head snapped to the kitchen door that was violently flung open, Kyota and Lakarde appearing in the doorway, looking around for the cause of the desperate scream.

 

“A mouse!” Amae screamed hysterically, jumping away from a small grey creature. He slipped on the flooded floor, nearly falling over, but somehow catching himself on the edge of the nearby table. “A m-mouse!” he shrieked again. “Kiiiill! Kiiiil it! Wolfraaaaam!”

 

Wolfram staggered at the unexpected weight as Amae suddenly flung himself at him. “Are you fucking stupid?” the blond asked, feeling Amae trying to climb up him and to his… Wolfram had no idea where Amae wanted to climb, but very likely it included his shoulders and head. He was also sure that Amae had not even heard him.

 

The prince snapped his fingers, the mouse flaring up and burning to a crisp in a blink of an eye. A faint smell of smoke and burnt hair permeated the kitchen.

 

Giving a stunned Kyota a meaningful look, Wolfram tried to peel Amae off him. “Get off.” Amae did not even budge, his eyes fixed on the smoking piece of charcoal that used to be a mouse. Wolfram turned to see his son's astonished, wide-eyed face. “If you don't get off of me right away, I'll hit you,” Wolfram warned Amae.

 

Slowly, Amae's head turned to Wolfram. His right hand let go off Wolfram's hair. He clambered awkwardly off of Wolfram's shoulders, lowered his legs to the floor, then tried to smooth out the blond's clothes. Wolfram's jacket was missing two buttons, the decorative epaulette on one shoulder torn from its seaming and hanging from its few remaining threads. Amae looked around then spotted the buttons on the wet floor.

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

Wolfram, Kyota and Lakarde watched him picking the buttons.

 

Amae looked at the smoking corpse of the mouse again. “Just to snap my fingers…” Amae wondered after a second. “Why could I never think of that?”

 

“Because you are an idiot,” Wolfram snorted. “Give me the buttons!”

 

“Is he for real?” Kyota stuttered finally.

 

“I'll sew them on for you,” Amae suggested in a guilty voice.

 

“Go to hell,” Wolfram refused, grabbing the buttons from Amae's palm. Did Amae really have any pride?

 

“Are you even a man?” Lakarde wondered, his stare sliding up and down Amae's tunic. He still could not comprehend how Amae dared to throw himself so shamelessly at his father.

 

Amae looked at the sneering boy whose eyes were glaring daggers at him. Amae could tell that this was much more serious than simple distaste. What Lakarde felt was… Unable to cope with all of this, something snapped inside Amae. He lifted his tunic. As usual, he wore no trousers underneath. “Here, look. Any other questions?”

 

Lakarde choked on his saliva.

 

“Yes!” Wolfram snapped at Amae, instinctively covering Lakarde's eyes with his palm. “Why the hell aren't you wearing underwear?!”

 

“Don't have any!” Amae snapped back at him hysterically. “For some reason the Great Sage's wisdom did not reach so far as to get my underwear with the rest of my clothes, and those fucking rapists shredded the last pair I had!” he spilled in one breath.

 

“Alright,” Wolfram grunted, “alright! Just lower your tunic!”

 

With shaking hands, Amae lowered his tunic. Somewhat stumbling, he went to pick up the upended bucket. When he nearly slipped, he decided to just sit down at one of the tables and recover from shock, which had somehow caught up with him only now.

 

“I'll finish the floor. Really. But in about half an hour,” he said to Wolfram's questioning look.

 

“Screw that,” Wolfram muttered. “You'd better see Gisela. You look as white as snow.”

 

Amae said nothing. Wolfram walked over to the kettle that stood next to the burning stove. He poured a few mugs of water into it then put it onto the stove. He guessed that some tea should do nicely to calm Amae down. He had a feeling that the mouse had nothing to do with Amae's attack of nerves. Very likely it was the outcome of everything that happened in the last couple of weeks.

 

“You either do something useful or go away,” Wolfram said after catching a glimpse of Kyota and Lakarde still standing in the kitchen. “Why did you come here, anyway?”

 

“He heard you were in a kitchen and dragged me here with him,” Lakarde motioned at Kyota. “Personally I believe that it was just an excuse to see the who-”

 

“Shut it,” Kyota snapped at him.

 

“Watch your language!” Wolfram warned Lakarde. But he had to agree with his son's assumption about Kyota's motives.

 

“I'm sorry, Father,” Lakarde bowed his head.

 

Kyota grabbed Lakarde by his shoulder and started pushing him outside.

 

“He's still in love with you,” Wolfram said after his son and Kyota were gone. He started rummaging through various cupboards for tea. “Or at least has the hots for you.”

 

“Are you an idiot?” Amae muttered, shaking his head. “That was twenty years ago for him.”

 

“I think it's you two who are idiots,” Wolfram pointed out. In one of the cupboards, he found a bag with some herbs that smelled nice. He took two mugs from the table where they had been left after washing. “Feeling better?”

 

“Somewhat,” Amae nodded. He watched Wolfram making tea. He wondered how long it was going to take Yuuri to come here looking for his husband. Yuuri's worried jealousy was not amusing. Besides, now there was something else that he had noticed in Yuuri's eyes. Lakarde was another matter, something that sooner or later was going to cause a lot of trouble for Wolfram. Was Wolfram even aware of what was happening right under his nose?

 

Amae sighed. He took the mug Wolfram had held out for him. “Lakarde was quite a blow to Yuuri, wasn't he?”

 

Wolfram looked at him in surprise. “Well, the idea itself was very upsetting,” he said after a pause. “We nearly broke up. In the end it somehow worked out. And after Lakarde was born… Yuuri loves Lakarde.”

 

Amae nodded. He blew on his tea then took a sip. “Lakarde…” he trailed off. “What does he think of Yuuri?”

 

“Hmm?” Wolfram wondered. What Lakarde thought of Yuuri? What could Lakarde think about Yuuri? He suddenly realized that he had no idea. “Well…” he drawled. “He respects and listens to Yuuri.”

 

Amae looked at Wolfram sideways. Deciding to just leave it, he sipped his tea. “Faraya had a daughter,” Amae said after swallowing. “You know that woman who was pregnant?”

 

It took a few seconds for Wolfram to remember. “Yes,” he nodded. “Had?”

 

Amae nodded again. “Faraya took the woman with him. She died while giving birth. The baby was premature and always sickly. She lived for two years with constant care, but that was not enough.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I tried to save her. I was the only one able to use healing magic.” Amae gave a long sigh. “She had underdeveloped lungs. I was amazed she survived that long, although I never stopped wondering if that constantly wheezing and coughing child would be better off dead.

 

“I think it was after she died Faraya decided to get revenge and take his planet back. We went to Aliran, and he sided with that dimwitted Nuuos and…”

 

“I think this is what you should be saying tomorrow in court,” Wolfram cut him off.

 

Amae gave Wolfram a long stare. “I know what you are thinking, Wolfram. Don't do it. I beg you, don't do it.”

 

Wolfram stood up, taking his steaming mug with him. “Make sure you wash the damn floor,” he said over his shoulder before leaving the kitchen.

 

XXXXX

 

“Wolfram,” Yuuri said, leaning over to place a light kiss on the blond's temple while the prince was drinking tea. Yuuri frowned lightly - just as he suspected, he could smell a faint scent of the kitchen preserved in the blond's thick hair. “You smell of food,” Yuuri said, walking over to the wardrobe, unbuttoning his jacket and sliding it off his shoulders.

 

“It's because I was in the kitchen,” Wolfram said, understanding perfectly well what Yuuri was trying to do. “I went to ask Amae whether he needed anything.”

 

“And?” Yuuri asked conversationally, hanging his jacket on the wardrobe hook.

 

“He needs, but he said that he didn't. And he had nearly knocked me over after seeing a mouse. He's afraid of them,” he explained after Yuuri gave him a blank look. “Kyota and Lakarde were also there.”

 

“Kept you company?” Yuuri guessed, walking up to his husband.

 

“No. I gather Kyota wanted to see him and dragged Lakarde with him.”

 

Yuuri blinked at him. “You think he still…?”

 

Wolfram shrugged. He sipped his tea then lowered the mug down to the table.

 

“What in the world is so great about that man?!” Yuuri threw up his hands in disbelief.

 

“Well…” Holding up one hand, Wolfram bent down his index finger. “First, he's got a great body.” He bent another finger. “Second, his face is quite pretty. Third, did I mention the body?” He burst out laughing at Yuuri's raised eyebrows. “Teasing, just teasing,” he chuckled, lowering his hand. He reached out for Yuuri who let himself be pulled over. Yuuri leaned down and they shared a short kiss.

 

Yuuri straightened but then Wolfram tugged again. Yuuri had to quickly arrange his body, so that instead of flopping onto Wolfram and smacking his head against the blond's chest, he could neatly slide onto his lap. He let out his startled breath in a huff.

 

Wolfram's arms wrapped around Yuuri and he held on tightly.

 

“What?” Yuuri asked softly. “Stressed about tomorrow's trial?”

 

“Mmm…” Wolfram hummed, rubbing his face against Yuuri's shirt instead of answering.

 

“I think it's already clear how it will end,” Yuuri said, wondering how far he should push this.

 

Wolfram nuzzled his face against Yuuri again. He could also guess how it might end. A penalty of quite a few years in a dungeon was the most believable option. He knew Yuuri would press for that. And then, if after leaving the dungeon, Faraya tried to revolt again, he would be executed. There was no doubt about that.

 

Yuuri raised his hand to stroke the blond hair. “What's eating you?”

 

Wolfram fingered one of Yuuri's shirt buttons. “Nothing. I'm just tired and sleepy.”

 

Yuuri petted Wolfram's hair in silence. “Want me to give you a massage?” he asked a minute later.

 

“Mhm,” Wolfram nodded. It wasn't probably what he needed right now, but Yuuri's suggestion was too tempting to refuse.

 

Yuuri slid off Wolfram's lap and headed in the direction of the bedroom. Wolfram unhooked his jacket off the armchair he had tossed it on earlier and followed Yuuri. Once in the bedroom, he put it neatly onto a chair near the bed then started unbuttoning his shirt.

 

Only in his underwear, Wolfram slid into the bed. Awaiting the massage, he turned onto his stomach. Yuuri, carrying a bottle of lotion in his hands, approached. He was also wearing only his boxers. He climbed into the bed and straddled his husband's waist. Carefully, he poured a small amount of the lotion onto his left palm, pushed the bottle away then started rubbing his hands together to warm his hand and the lotion up.

 

“Mmm… This is really good,” Wolfram purred when Yuuri's hands started sliding up and down his back. He was glad Yuuri had once showed interest and Gisela taught him how to do it.

 

Yuuri's hands glided over the pale skin, then concentrated on Wolfram's upper back to knead and rub there. Wolfram sighed in bliss. The firm pressure of Yuuri's warm hands on his back felt soothing. A few minutes later he felt the pressure decreasing, his husband now massaging his back in slow circles. His body felt completely relaxed and the world around him did not seem that real anymore.

 

“…ve you...” Wolfram mumbled before dozing off.

 

Yuuri continued massaging the prince for a minute then slid off his hips carefully. Wolfram shifted but stayed asleep. Yuuri covered him with a blanket. He watched Wolfram for some time.

 

“I love you, too, Wolfram,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Just don't do anything reckless, alright?” he added softly. “It would be very problematic.”

 

XXXXX

 

Despite there being about a hundred people present, the huge hall seemed half-empty. There were people from all four worlds present: Nuuos Astar, the ruler of Aliran; Shori Shibuya, the ruler of Earth; Faraya, the former ruler of Ekara; representatives from the noble families of Shin Makoku and mingle mangle of witnesses from all worlds. Everyone was looking around the hall, taking in all the faces, and talking - it was not every day one could see so many important people.

 

From the back-row in the hall, where he was hunched on one of the benches with the other witnesses, Amae took a look at Faraya who was sitting at the table at the end of the hall with guards surrounding him. Faraya was wearing a large white woolen shirt, black trousers and his usual well-worn boots. He was freshly shaved, his longish hair somewhat messy, a few strands falling onto his forehead. Despite the questionable details in his appearance, Faraya looked regal. His huge, muscular build, raven-black hair somewhat grizzled at the temples, wide face and sharp and penetrating eyes, his calm and self-assured aura made it look as if the entire hall belonged to him.

 

Amae's eyes left Faraya to take a look around. There was still some fifteen or twenty minutes until the trial began. Neither Wolfram nor Yuuri was present yet. Amae lowered his head and continued chewing on his lower lip.

 

The door creaked again, and followed by a handful of bodyguards, the Prince Consort entered the hall. The conversations ceased abruptly, people hushing. Their heads followed the prince through the hall until he stopped in front of Faraya.

 

“Your Majesty,” Wolfram bowed, his eyes burning resolutely.

 

Faraya's eyebrows rose. “Your Highness?”

 

“During my stay on Ekara and then on Aliran, I was confined against my will. The actions that were performed by Your Majesty insulted my honor,” Wolfram said clearly for the people around the room to hear. “There is one thing that could remove the stain from it - it is Your Majesty's blood,” he declared. “I am challenging Your Majesty. No elements - a neat and clean swordfight. Right here and right now.”

 

Silence reigned in the hall after the prince's words.

 

Faraya sat still, looking at Wolfram, then, slowly, his lips were tugged into a grin. “Very well,” he nodded. “I accept your challenge.” He stood up.

 

Gunter regained his composure first. He stuttered, “Your Highness! I beg to differ!”

 

Prince Consort gave him a look which made Gunter close his mouth. Gunter's eyes quickly found Gwendal. Gwendal was frowning and looked troubled, but said nothing. Wolfram's rank was second only to that of the King's of Shin Makoku. He had no power to give Wolfram commands. Also Gwendal was not sure that he needed to interfere. If Wolfram wanted Faraya dead, then maybe he had a good reason and Faraya was really better off dead. But Gwendal was worried that Wolfram might find it impossible to achieve.

 

With his head, Wolfram indicated for one of his bodyguards to pass his sword over to Faraya. After that, the prince walked out to the middle of the hall. He unsheathed his sword and stood there, waiting for Faraya. He had already mentally shut out everyone else in the hall.

 

His sword in his hand, Faraya approached the prince. They stood facing each other motionlessly, then Faraya stepped forward. Wolfram retreated, starting to circle him. Faraya suddenly made a deceptive move, pretending he was about to swerve left and aim at Wolfram's side. Wolfram's sword got ready to parry Faraya's, but the king struck straight. Wolfram jumped backwards, just in time to avoid Faraya's sword skewering him. He parried the next attack, directing Faraya's sword away from his neck. His left foot caught Faraya in the gut, tossing him onto the tiles on his side.

 

Wolfram moved forward, but had to retreat as Faraya's sword swept just above the floor, nearly taking his feet off. With this, Faraya won those few precious seconds that were needed for him to roll over and jump to his feet. He had suffered no damage as his abdominal muscles absorbed most of the kick.

 

They started circling each other again. This time Wolfram was the first to attack. He struck for Faraya's side. His sword was blocked, but then, instead of resisting the pressure Faraya was placing on his sword, he suddenly whirled to the side and slipped around the other man. His sword jarred against Faraya's and then unexpectedly was not there anymore. It, just as Wolfram, was behind Faraya slashing at the back of the neck that had been there half a second ago.

 

Faraya had flung himself forward, onto his hands, his foot shooting out to kick at the blond's legs. Wolfram lost his footing. He rolled barely having the time to avoid Faraya's awkwardly handled slash that grazed the side of Wolfram's uniform. Despite coming from an uncomfortable angle, if it had been a fraction of a second faster, it would have left Wolfram with a quite serious wound.

 

Wolfram rolled again, getting to his feet. Their swords clashed, sparks flying and the two of them found themselves trying to drive each other back. Faraya was much bulkier than Wolfram and despite being a full-blooded Mazoku, Wolfram was reminded that Faraya was stronger than him. Whether that was because of his bigger build or the exceptional soul that inhabited it, Wolfram didn't know, he only knew that now Faraya was pushing him back, his back nearing the wall. Much longer and his wrist would start breaking under the pressure.

 

Faraya grunted in surprise as the resistance was suddenly gone, Wolfram dropping to the ground, onto his side. Immediately, Faraya took his chance to strike at the exposed body.

 

Faraya pulled his blade out of the crack in the titles where he had just struck, aiming for Wolfram. He watched Wolfram rolling again and getting to his feet.

 

“You are still very good at wriggling your way out of tight spots,” Faraya remarked, holding his sword in front of him, motioning with his left hand for Wolfram to come closer. “I see you did not keep that nice body of yours idle.” He had realized that despite having more strength than the blond, Wolfram's reactions were faster. Not only that, it seemed that the blond was even a better swordsman than he was. Getting Wolfram angry so that he stopped thinking and struck out blindly would be more likely to succeed than trying to cut him straight away.

 

Wolfram ducked the blade that zipped above his head. He struck at Faraya's stomach, taking a few buttons off, making Faraya's back make an impossible arch. Wolfram swept forward again, his sword slashing at the king's left side, leaving an open cut in his shirt which flapped open, revealing a streak of blood that ran down to Faraya's leg. The white shirt started absorbing the blood, turning red.

 

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Faraya did not feel much pain. Wolfram was circling him again, and he had no time to check how badly he was wounded.

 

Wolfram was resolute, his mind set to a very concrete task - to find a flaw in Faraya's defense. Now, as his enemy was weakened, he could take this into account. He could simply circle and tire Faraya out until he weakened from the loss of blood. But Wolfram needed to end this fast.

 

Faraya parried Wolfram's next attack and not letting their swords interlock, the blond jumped back. Faraya came at him, striking high, somewhere at his chest. Wolfram had guessed the move and crouched down, the king completely missing. Wolfram's blade swished through the air in a back-hand slash, cutting into the king's stomach. Faraya started falling forward onto Wolfram. The prince stepped away, letting the body fold itself up toppling onto the tiles. Then, without any hesitation, in one strike, he took off Faraya's head neatly.

 

Panting, Wolfram stood looking down at the headless body. He brushed the sweat off his forehead, then his head snapped to the side from where a sudden scream came. He blocked Amae's sword easily, the blades gnashing. Wolfram's second, now offensive stroke, knocked the sword out of the concubine's hand, sending it spinning through the air where it clattered onto the floor, near the first rows, snapping the stunned audience out of their stupor, making people rise and scatter away.

 

Screaming, Amae attacked Wolfram with his bare fists. Wolfram moved his blade aside so that the concubine didn't accidentally skewer himself on it. Amae dropped to the ground like a felled tree as Wolfram backhanded him heavily.

 

From the unconscious concubine, Wolfram's head turned to look at a small bead of glittering blue light that emerged from Faraya's dead body. The ruler's soul. Wolfram shifted his sword to rest trapped between his elbow and his side and stepped forward to catch the bluish transparent ball between his palms. It felt warm.

 

Wolfram looked around for a container. He spotted a vase with flowers on the desk Faraya had been sitting at. He quickly dumped the water and the flowers onto the floor and put the soul into the vase and covered it with a bunch of documents that had been lying on the desk, then took his bloodied sword back into his hand.

 

A hallow thump echoed through the room and Wolfram's gaze swiveled around to look at the heavy wooden door where his husband had appeared. Yuuri's facial expression was priceless. It would have been funny if it had not been blood-chilling. Yuuri was staring at him with those dark eyes of his wide in disbelief.

 

“W-what… What the hell…?!” Yuuri pointed at Faraya's headless body with a shaking hand. Then his gaze fell upon the unconscious concubine. “What the fuck have you done, Wolfram?!” he screamed. “What the hell?! Why are both of them dead?!”

 

Unconsciously, Wolfram weighed the sword in his hand. “Amae is alive. I just knocked him out,” he said. He almost stepped back at the intensity in Yuuri's dark eyes.

 

“Wolfram…” the king hissed. “Explanation! NOW!”

 

Wolfram's emerald eyes flashed as he stared into the dark eyes of his king and husband. “You're still a wimp, Yuuri,” the blond said. “But that's okay. You have me to do your dirty work for you.”

 

Yuuri's face turned red in fury. His whole frame was shaking. “Arrest him!” he snapped at his bodyguards. “Take him to the dungeon and put him in a cell. NOW!”

 

“Your Majesty…” Arachi hesitated, unsure, his eyes swiveling towards Wolfram, then settling back on Yuuri.

 

“Didn't you hear what I said?!” the king roared at him.

 

Arachi bowed quickly. “Yes, Your majesty.” He and other bodyguards hurried over to the Prince Consort.

 

“Your Highness, the sword,” Arachi requested when he approached Wolfram.

 

Throwing a flashing glance at the men who now stood to his left and his right, Wolfram took two quick steps forward, shifting his sword so that he now held it by the blade, near the hilt. Stopping directly in front of Yuuri, he lifted the enraged king's right hand and slapped the sword's hilt into the dark haired man's palm. The sound echoed through the chamber.

 

Their eyes locked, the blond curled Yuuri's fingers closed, leaving the king holding the sword, the occasional blood drop still falling from its tip. Then, without a word, he stepped past his husband and followed by the guards, disappeared down the corridor, leaving Yuuri the center of a world that consisted of two unmoving bodies on the floor, a wide eyed and stunned crowd and Wolfram's blood stained sword.

 

XXXXX

 

He had hardly eaten the last couple of days. Arachi had visited with him a few times while bringing him meals, but he could not force himself to swallow more than a few bites.

 

Amae shifted on his wooden bunk, trying to wrap himself into a ragged cloth to get some warmth. It was late autumn and the barred vent near the ceiling offered only chilling wind gusts. The stone walls emanated the growing cold. It was dark and humid in the cell. He had been held here for two days already.

 

Amae was not even sure what had happened. He only knew that he had awakened in this cell with the worst headache ever. He had been able to remember vague fractures of images which seemed like some morbid nightmare. He had not even been sure whether Faraya was dead. His memories lacked clarity. He wasn't sure what he was locked up for. Arachi had been the one to tell him that he had been accused of treason and an attempt on the Prince Consort's life.

 

Amae found it funny because, on the first day, he had been able to hear Wolfram in the neighboring cell. He had been giving hell to one of his servants and seemed to be extremely lively. Although, today, early in the morning, Wolfram had been taken away. It made Amae wonder whether Wolfram had been taken to be forgiven or punished. Whatever the case, Wolfram did not come back to his cell.

 

Arachi was also the one to tell Amae that Faraya was dead. Actually, Amae did not know how to react. He did not feel sad enough to cry or be upset. In fact, he did not feel much of anything. He just felt burnt-out. And cold.

 

The former concubine had thought very hard and long, and he could not remember ever attacking Wolfram. He knew that, considering the circumstances at the time, he might have, and he probably had. Arachi said that he had done it with a sword. Amae had no idea why he would do that - to go against Wolfram with a sword was stupid. Why a sword, if he was much better with his water element?

 

Now he was not able to use it. Yuuri had rendered him helpless. Faraya was dead, so he was not able to use the fire element either. The future looked bleak.

 

XXXXX

 

The former concubine was as pale as snow, Kyota noticed. His hair was a mess, his tunic dirty. Following along in the procession almost mechanically, the former concubine was staring at the back of the heels of the man walking in front of him. There were two guards at his sides, but it looked that instead of preventing him from escaping, they were more needed for steadying him.

 

The procession, in front of whose six men were carrying Faraya's body, finally reached the plaza of the God of War temple. In the middle of it there was a readied pyre of firewood.

 

The body was lifted, then laid down onto the arranged planks above the firewood. After a few words from the priest, the wood was set on fire. It caught easily, white puffs of smoke appearing. The wind teased them lazily, then lifted and carried the smoke over the square and further into the town. As the fire started licking the planks and then the body, the smoke turned darker, the smell of charred meat filling the air.

 

Kyota's eyes set on the former concubine who suddenly swayed. With a soft thud, Amae collapsed on the tiles of the plaza. The unconscious man lay there while the guards were looking at him in silence. Kyota's hands were flexing and unflexing unconsciously. Kyota stepped forward but Yuuri's heavy hand dropped onto his shoulder holding him in place.

 

“Don't be stupid.”

 

With a motion of his head, the king indicated for the guards to pick Amae up.

 

XXXXX

 

Irritated, Yuuri was leafing through the documents. He was alone in his study, in his usual chair, the room already dark, a few lamps burning on the table and the ceiling. He had taken care of Faraya's funeral, now he had to take care of his husband.

 

Wolfram had challenged Faraya to fair combat, but it had been against his orders. The king's wish had been to judge Faraya for his deeds. Wolfram had deliberately disregarded that. Disobeying the king's orders was punishable with death. Of course, Yuuri was not going to kill his own husband. Nonetheless, forgiveness was out of the question. Yuuri was angry and, in addition, everyone in three kingdoms expected the Prince Consort to be punished.

 

Gunter, who had been ordered to gather the documents concerned with the incident and possible solutions, yesterday brought him a book full of transcriptions of old laws and acts. There were about ten ways to disobey the wishes of a king/husband: for being unfaithful, the spouse would lose his/her head; For stealing or spending more money than allowed he/she would be locked in a tower or cell for a few months or years...depending on the amount of money missing; For having an illegitimate child the spouse would also lose his/her head. The mother or father of the child would be also killed, and the child would be left at the nearest orphanage without any rights; For various excuses and for tampering with the king's patience, the husband or wife would be flogged; For hurting their children or for fostering them ignorantly, the spouse would be locked up in a cell for a few days; Treason was punished with the gallows in the middle of the castle yard for everyone to see; For being negligent to his/her duties (it was not explained what those entailed), the spouse would be locked up for a few days in a cell.

 

After thinking for a moment, Yuuri returned to the page with a thorough description of flogging.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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