Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Inexorable Flow ❯ Part 20 ( Chapter 20 )

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 20

 

Wolfram was sitting on the royal bed and staring at the door. He was tired of waiting and bored out of his mind. This was the second day he had been locked up in the royal chambers. “Locked up” was probably not the right way to phrase it. The doors were not locked, but there were two guards outside the door to prevent him from wandering out of the rooms.

 

He had spent a day in the dungeon. Then Yuuri's anger had cooled and he had been brought back into their chambers. Even Lakarde was not allowed to see him. Wolfram presumed that, after this, his son was going to like Yuuri even less.

 

Wolfram stood up as the door opened and Yuuri entered their bedroom. Wolfram started fidgeting with his hands, when after coming in and closing the door, his husband silently stared at him so long that Wolfram wanted to sink straight through the floor and disappear.

 

“What?” Wolfram muttered.

 

Yuuri shook his head. “Nothing much. I have come to a decision about what to do with you.” He opened the door and motioned for the blond to follow him into the living-room.

 

Wolfram seated himself into an armchair. Yuuri crossed the room to get to the cupboard that held a huge collection of strong drinks. He took out one of the bottles that had an unusual form.

 

“Want some?” he raised the bottle for the blond to see.

 

Wolfram nodded. He watched his husband opening the door on the other side of the cupboard and getting the glasses. Yuuri put them on the cupboard and started uncorking the bottle. After some struggle, he filled the glasses with clear white liquid. He corked the bottle again then took the glasses with him and walked over to Wolfram. He held out one for him, then sat down in a chair next to Wolfram. He clinked his glass with the blond's then took a sip.

 

“You'll be flogged with twenty-five strokes,” he informed Wolfram after swallowing the wine.

 

Wolfram's eyes widened then he raised his glass to take a sip. He had already accepted the thought of punishment earlier, but this was… His lips pressed into a thin line.

 

“The entire process will be witnessed by a few representatives from Shin Makoku, Ekara and Aliran. I thought about Gunter and Murata.”

 

“What about you?” Wolfram asked, his voice dripping with something black. “Won't you watch?”

 

Yuuri's stormy eyes bore into the blond's. “Don't test my patience, Wolfram!” he hissed.

 

The prince lowered his eyes and silently sipped his wine. Yuuri had been about to hit him. He was already regretting his words, but it was too late.

 

“Do you think I liked spending the entire day looking for a way to punish my own husband?!” Yuuri exploded. “Do you think I want you to be flogged? Or do you think I'll experience some sick pleasure from it?!” he stared at Wolfram, his eyes filled with hurt and anger. “What the…?”

 

“Enough, Yuuri,” Wolfram said, lowering his glass onto the table. “I'm sorry. I did not mean to say that!” he said, leaning forward, grabbing Yuuri by his arms, nearly making him spill his wine. Wolfram looked at his husband with a pleading expression on his face. “I…”

 

“Damn it, Wolfram,” Yuuri muttered, freeing his arms. He put his glass down then embraced his husband, his anger seeping away. He could never stay angry with Wolfram for long. “Why does it always have to be like this?” Yuuri sighed. “Why the hell do you have to be so stubborn?”

 

Wolfram said nothing, only pressed his lips to Yuuri's neck. Yuuri sighed. He pushed Wolfram away and stood up.

 

“Get familiar with the protocol,” he told Wolfram. “The punishment will be delivered a day after tomorrow, at three o'clock in the afternoon.” Yuuri lifted his glass to empty it. “Where you killed Faraya,” he finished, lowering the glass. He started filling it again.

 

Wolfram watched him then leaned back into the chair while his hands rested on the table.

 

“I'll do that,” he nodded. “Pour me some,” he pushed the glass over the table noisily.

 

“You know,” Yuuri said, filling his husband's glass, “Faraya once called you a dove-eyed nightmare. He said I should control you better.” He sat down again.

 

Wolfram said nothing to that. He took the filled glass.

 

“He said many things, that Faraya,” Yuuri muttered, watching the blond over the top of his glass. He did not miss a light tremor in the hand holding the glass.

 

“Who cares?” Wolfram shrugged. “He should have paid more attention to his own blue-eyed monster.”

 

Yuuri gave a soft chuckle. “Amae sure gave him a pleasant surprise.” He rolled the glass between his hands. “Amae was his downfall. And I sometimes wonder whether you'll be mine.”

 

“You know I'll never betray you.”

 

“So you say,” Yuuri took another sip. “So you say, my love,” he repeated. He tilted his head backwards to stare at the ceiling.

 

Wolfram watched him but said nothing. He was surprised and suspicious as to why Yuuri had not demanded to know why he had killed Faraya. Yuuri simply never asked him.

 

“So what's happening with Amae now?” Wolfram asked.

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “The fuck I care,” he spat angrily. He felt like he was getting drunk. He liked the feeling. “Do whatever you wish with him,” he conceded a minute later.

 

Wolfram turned his head to the ceiling and stared at the same spot as Yuuri. Recently his husband had been cursing a lot.

 

“I heard he wasn't doing very well,” Yuuri sighed as the silence stretched. “He lost consciousness during Faraya's funeral. Just dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“The bastard tried to kill you. I don't get why you are worried over him.” Ruffling through his hair, Yuuri lowered his head. He reached over the table to pick up the bottle. “I was told he did not remember a thing, though. He just lies there and refuses to eat,” he said, filling his glass. “I'm not sure whether it's a hunger strike or just…”

 

“Well…” Wolfram drawled, pushing his glass over for Yuuri to fill it. “He didn't look very sane at the time. He doesn't even know how to use a sword. It would have been more sensible if he had tried to attack me with his water element.”

 

“You think he has lost it?” Yuuri wondered.

 

“Nah,” Wolfram shook his head. “Doubt it. He just has that tendency to go cuckoo more frequently than other people. It's just how he was able to survive until now.”

 

“Lakarde is not going to like this,” Yuuri stated, changing the topic. That was mildly said. Lakarde was going to try to kill him for this. Lakarde had a very clear idea of what was allowed to happen to his father and himself.

 

Wolfram put his glass down and rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on. Lakarde was going to flip out. He knew his son well enough to know that much.

 

“More wine,” Wolfram demanded a minute later.

 

XXXXX

 

It was dark and cold in the cell, and Wolfram shivered. The lump on the bunk was lying listlessly. The blond walked over to it and tugged at the ragged cover Amae had wrapped himself into. The lump on the bunk did not even move. Wolfram sat down the bunk.

 

Amae's bleary eyes opened as the prince shook him quite forcefully, then they snapped wide open to concentrate on Wolfram's face. Hate and pain washed over them. Wolfram braced himself as the younger male sat up abruptly. He caught Amae's wrists easily before he could hit him and pressed his weakened body back into the bunk. Hissing in anger, the former concubine struggled, but it was to no avail. Amae did not give up and tried to kick the prince off him, but then the blond overlay him with his body, cutting off any movements.

 

“Let go! Let go, you bastard!” Amae panted out, furious.

 

The desperation rising in his efforts, Amae wriggled to try and get himself free. Despite his efforts, he did not manage to even move Wolfram. A minute later, he just slumped in defeat.

 

“I was told that you refuse to eat and do nothing except sleep,” Wolfram said, letting go of the younger man's wrists, getting off of Amae and sitting up on the edge of the bunk again. Red angry marks could be seen on them.

 

Rubbing his wrists, Amae snarled at him angrily.

 

“Will you stop that, Amae?” Wolfram spat in annoyance as Amae threw himself at him again. He pushed the former concubine back into the bunk where he sagged down, his body shaking with angry sobbing.

 

Wolfram watched the weeping man, then patted him awkwardly on his shoulder. That only induced Amae's sobs to become louder.

 

“Why? Why did you have to kill him?” Amae wailed.

 

“You know why.”

 

“Don't touch me. Don't touch!” Amae smacked at Wolfram's hands. “Don't touch me!”

 

Ignoring Amae's protests, Wolfram hefted him up, leaning him against his body. Amae struggled for a few seconds, then slumped down again and continued sobbing.

 

Several minutes later, the uncontrollable sobs started lessening. Now Amae was just sniffling pitifully, his forehead resting on Wolfram's shoulder. Amae's tunic was dirty, his hair entangled and messy. Wolfram scrunched up his nose.

 

“What? Where…?” Amae gasped out as Wolfram stood and then suddenly heaved him up off the bunk.

 

“You could use a bath and a good meal.”

 

Amae opened his mouth to protest but then closed it again. He wiped at his face with a piece of the tattered cover that he was still half-wrapped into. Still sniffling, he let himself be carried. He felt much better now after crying. After Faraya's death he had not shed a tear, was not able to for some reason. Now, after letting it all out, he felt much better.

 

Wolfram killed the man he loved. And yet, he could not hate Wolfram. There was just an overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

 

“I can walk, moron,” Amae sniffled out when Wolfram carried him out into the corridor and started climbing the stairs leading out of the dungeon. The guards that they were passing were giving them astonished looks.

 

“Yes, you probably can,” Wolfram agreed. “You could also try to hit me again or slip and roll off the stairs.”

 

“The first, I'd definitely choose the first,” Amae nodded. “And then the second would just happen to me naturally, right?”

 

Grinning, Wolfram had to agree. Huffing, he carried the former concubine upstairs. Once outside the dungeon, on a sandy path, he stopped and leaned against the outer dungeon wall. He let Amae slide out of his arms and to his wobbly bare feet. Amae shivered in the chilly wind. The winter was going to come soon. He was not used to cold weather at all.

 

“You are really heavy,” Wolfram complained. The exercise while carrying the man left him insensitive to the cold wind.

 

“Well, I'm way taller than you, after all,” Amae said matter-of-factly, pointing at Wolfram's forehead. “Ha!”

 

Wolfram rolled his eyes. “Your toenails have grown long.” Satisfied, he watched Amae blush then stare at his feet with horror-stricken eyes and shuffle his dirty feet on the rough path.

 

“I can't help that, can I?” Amae glared at him.

 

“Your hair is all greasy and matted,” Wolfram grinned.

 

Without thinking, Amae tried to kick him in the leg, but got his boot instead. “Ouch, ouch!” he grabbed at his injured foot while Wolfram did not seem affected at all. He glared at Wolfram again. “My feet are freezing!” he complained. “How long are you going to make me stand here? Carry me!” he demanded, holding his hands out. “Right to the baths!”

 

Wolfram sighed, “I pity the man who ever marries you.” He hefted Amae up again and carried him towards the entrance to the castle.

 

OoOoOo_Two days later_oOoOoO

 

He had expected to find the blond in the royal bedroom, but Wolfram was lying on the sofa in the living-room. Kyota figured that it made sense - Yuuri was the one to punish him, so Wolfram probably was reluctant to get into their bed where he could smell Yuuri all over it. He knew Wolfram thought he had deserved the punishment, and he probably did but, instinctively, Wolfram would keep himself away from Yuuri at least for a few days. It had a lot to do with one's element.

 

The prince had not heard him enter. Wolfram was lying on his stomach, his head turned to the side and he seemed to be dozing lightly. A light white sheet was drawn over his back.

 

“Wolfram?”

 

“Mhm?” came the drowsy response.

 

The blond head turned and Kyota realized that Wolfram was on drugs. The usually clear eyes were hooded, a muzzy emerald. Kyota sighed. He approached Wolfram and lifted the sheet off his back. Wolfram winced lightly as the sheet was stuck to the various ointments covering his back, but didn't protest Kyota's actions.

 

“Hell,” Kyota muttered, “it's worse than I imagined it would be.” The swollen angry welts were strewn all over the blond's back and shoulders. The usually pale and delicate skin was reddish and tumid. In some places the skin was cut and the welts were still exuding lymph mixed with some blood.

 

“Does it still hurt?” he asked, lowering the sheet carefully.

 

“Not really,” Wolfram muttered. “I don't know what Gisela gave me, but I can hardly feel anything at all. I'm very sleepy, though.”

 

Kyota looked around and noticed a packet lying on the nearby table. Curious, he took it. “It's really not from Shin Makoku,” he said after fishing out a piece of shiny paper with white pills enclosed in it. “I am sure that it was your brother-in-law who brought these for you.”

 

“Yeah, must have been Shori,” Wolfram muttered, agreeing. “He seemed quite worried.”

 

Kyota rolled the packet between his fingers once again, then put it back onto the table. “I think he knows.”

 

Wolfram's eyes blinked slowly. “He does,” he nodded. “He figured it all out back then, twenty years ago.”

 

Kyota stayed silent for a few moments then shrugged. “You know, to me it always seemed that he is much better at reading you than your husband is.”

 

“What the hell are you implying here?” Wolfram snorted at him. “That I should have married Shori or something?”

 

Kyota ruffled through his hair. “Well, okay. I'm saying that Yuuri is an idiot. Anyone, by this time, would have figured out what happened between Faraya and you. I mean when one adds all the facts… Like you being kidnapped and kept in his palace and you for some reason bringing over a concubine and then waging war and hating Faraya mindlessly… You killing him... Anyone who knows you knows that you would never do something like this needlessly. It's obvious, Wolfram. Anyone with at least a grain of sense understands why you did that. The Great Sage, your brothers - they all know.”

 

Wolfram closed his eyes again. “Shit.”

 

“Nobody will say anything to Yuuri - it's between you two,” Kyota continued. “Unless he hears some rumors flying about, but that's hardly possible, because now everybody will be afraid to open their mouths. But in case Yuuri will try to push you even after this, you can be sure that you'll have a firm support group.”

 

Wolfram sighed. “He won't, Kyota. Despite being dense in some matters, he's my husband and he loves me. I think he was flinching with every blow I took. It hurt him more than me. I don't think he's even angry anymore. It's just more embarrassing than anything. I feel guilty for making him go through this.”

 

Kyota was silent at first, then let out a long sigh. He had been present at the scene, too. Had seen it all - from Wolfram taking his shirt off and facing the wall to the first and last slash on the blond's back.

 

“You think I don't know that?” Kyota shrugged. “He looked as if he was on the verge of tears while sitting there. I just think…” he trailed off. He watched the drowsy blond. “I think he knows, Wolfram. I think he knows and is angry not because you killed Faraya. I think he's angry because you never told him and tried to deal with this on your own while excluding him.”

 

Wolfram was staring at his friend with big eyes.

 

“I don't know about other people, but, believe me, I'd also be pissed off,” Kyota confirmed. “Just as Yuuri is. You…why the hell are you lying to him all the time? You know how he loves you and he has forgiven you things other people never would. And you still…”

 

“I don't want him to ever know.”

 

Kyota sighed. “It was fine before. But why the hell are you keeping silent now? Is it so fucking difficult to just say: You know, Yuuri, I killed the bastard because he…”

 

“Will you fucking shut up?!” Wolfram yelled at him. “I don't want him to know! Never! Never ever!”

 

“Alright, alright!” Kyota tried to calm him down. “It was just friendly advice. Don't go hysterical on me!”

 

Wolfram glared at him but then his gaze softened and became bleary yet again, the drug taking over. “I'm not hysterical,” he spat.

 

Kyota let it pass. Very likely it was just the influence of the drug. “Why did you let Amae watch?” the blue-haired man asked, then.

 

“I owed him. Besides, he seemed ecstatic at the idea. I thought it might console him.”

 

Kyota rolled his eyes. “He left halfway through. From what I saw, he felt sick.”

 

XXXXX

 

Lakarde was sitting at the table and sipping his tea. Only the burning of his eyes revealed that under that composed posture, a volcano was ready to erupt.

 

“Father?” Lakarde started softly, his voice perfectly controlled.

 

“Mm?” Wolfram raised his head. He was sitting opposite the table, reading a few documents. He was sitting with his back straight, not touching the back of the chair. Two days had passed since the punishment, and, if he was careful with his back, he was able to deal with most of his daily tasks. “What is it?”

 

Lakarde's lips twitched. He knew his father was not going to like this. Despite that, he could not keep silent. He lowered his mug to the table.

 

“How could he do this to you? You are his husband!” he spat.

 

With his right eyebrow raised, Wolfram looked at his son. “We are married, true enough. But more to the point, he is my king. And I disobeyed him. He had every right to have me executed.”

 

“Father, I'm not stupid!” Lakarde screamed at him across the table. “Anyone can understand why you killed the fucker! And Yuuri is your husband, for fuck's sake! He, himself, should have defended your honor!” Lakarde hissed with his fists clenched. “How can he…? What the fuck is wrong with your relationship?!”

 

“Lakarde, you…” Wolfram trailed off as his son jumped from his seat, marched out the door and slammed it shut, leaving him alone in the room. Wolfram sighed.

 

Infuriated, Lakarde stormed down the corridor. Yuuri was a freak! How in the world could he be such a hypocrite?!

 

Amae chose that unfortunate moment to step out into the corridor Lakarde was marching past. Lakarde halted and turned around.

 

“It's your fault!” Lakarde accused the former concubine. “Now what? You are going to visit him like a good buddy? You who tried to kill him?” Lakarde hissed at the man who had approached. “You damn whore! Freak of nature! How the fuck could you love that rapist?! Damn, serves him right to have his head lopped off! And now what? You plan on getting into Wolfram's pants?”

 

“How the fuck is it my fault and who do you think you are to talk to me like that?” Amae leaned forward, his tall body towering over the boy. “Brat, do you think you have any right to tell me anything?” Amae's voice lowered to a soft but dangerous hum. “You with a father's complex? You who still haven't stepped out of your swaddling-clothes and still are at the stage of “when I grow up I'll marry my daddy”…? Do you think you have any right to say anything to me?”

 

Lakarde's face was one big horror. But it cleared off quickly. Lakarde's eyes narrowed. Amae had made a mistake. Lakarde, just as he had, had come to terms with who he was a long time ago.

 

“It's about damn time someone taught you a lesson, you damn whore! You only care about the size and a good fuck, don't you? Don't even think of laying your hands on my father!” Lakarde hissed, suddenly pushing at Amae's chest, his right foot shooting out to trip him.

 

In a fraction of a second, Amae felt himself being turned around, his chest hitting the floor painfully, his right hand being trussed up painfully. “Let go!” Amae was afraid and infuriated with himself that some kid was able to overcome him so easily.

 

“Why are you squirming around so much? Take it like the good whore you are!” Lakarde hissed, his free hand grabbing Amae's underwear under the tunic.

 

“What the fuck are you doing, brat?!” Amae yelled. “Let go of me this instant!”

 

“Lakarde!”

 

Lakarde's head snapped back as he was grabbed by his hair and pulled off Amae. A punch to the boy's face made him hit the wall behind him. Gathering himself and wiping his bleeding lip, Lakarde stared up at Kyota.

 

“Bastard,” Lakarde said, licking a trickle of blood off his fingers. “People can get beheaded for things like this, don't you know?”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” the blue-haired male yelled at him.

 

Lakarde shrugged. He started getting up from the floor. “None of your fucking business. In any case, I don't think the whore would have minded it,” with his chin he pointed at bewildered Amae who had also got up from the floor. Lakarde spat the blood out of his mouth. “Two idiots,” he muttered before going away.

 

“That kid…” Kyota hissed at Lakarde's retreating back. “I think I'll have to talk to Wolfram about him after all.”

 

Amae combed his hair with his fingers to get it in order. “Never mind. He'll grow out of it.”

 

“What the heck are you talking about?” Kyota spat. “He nearly raped you!”

 

Amae rolled his eyes. “Rape me?” He turned around to go. He chuckled. “That would have proved to be impossible in his state. I don't know what he was doing, but he wasn't even hard to begin with.”

 

XXXXX

 

Yuuri was sitting in his study, going over a pile of documents. All of them were trade requests from a Human land they had recently signed treaties with. He raised his head as there was a knock on the door.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Your Majesty,” Kyota bowed after entering. “May I have a word with You?”

 

Yuuri's angered eyes fell on him. “What is it, Docharo? If it's about Wolfram, I don't want to hear anything about it!”

 

Kyota sighed inwardly. Since they were teenagers, Yuuri had been sensitive to his closeness to Wolfram. Despite them getting along quite well, Yuuri had always seen him as a rival. Kyota could not blame him - he had nearly married Wolfram after all.

 

“I did not come here to complain or anything,” Kyota shook his head. “Please, hear me out, Your Majesty,” Kyota asked. “I believe there's one thing that the Prince didn't tell Your Majesty…”

 

“Drop the formalities, Kyota,” Yuuri pushed the documents aside. “What is it?”

 

“I think you know pretty well,” Kyota said, walking over and sitting down in the chair in front of Yuuri's desk. “The reason why Wolfram challenged him.”

 

Yuuri stood up. He walked over to the cabinet where he stored the drinks. “Want some?”

 

“Sure,” Kyota nodded.

 

Kyota took the offered brandy. As usually Yuuri rarely drank anything stronger than wine, it made Kyota look at him with suspicion. Yuuri sat down in his usual place at the desk.

 

“Start talking, then,” the king motioned with his hand.

 

Kyota swirled the brandy in his glass. “Do I really need to?” He frowned at Yuuri's silence and took a sip of his brandy. “Damn it, Yuuri, Faraya raped him then, twenty years ago.”

 

Yuuri pushed his glass over the desk. His fists clenched slowly. “So it was indeed so.” His gaze went to Kyota, making the blue-haired male flinch.

 

“You knew?” Kyota stared at him. True, he had suspected this, but it had been more of a wild guess than anything. He had hoped to finally convince Wolfram to talk to his husband and resolve the tension between them. He hadn't really thought that…

 

“At first I only assumed that something must have happened,” Yuuri muttered. “Then, a week ago now, I finally realized why he was so obsessed with the entire matter and why he was so fond of Amae. It was a dead give-away. What do you take me for?” Yuuri spat. “An idiot? We have been married for more than twenty years, damn it!”

 

Kyota sipped his brandy. Really, Wolfram was the one who was an idiot. Were he in Wolfram's shoes now, he would…

 

“Why did he entrust you with this but not me? Was he the one to tell you?” Yuuri grunted out through clenched teeth.

 

Kyota nodded. “I believe he was more worried about what you would think than about my opinion,” he said softly.

 

Yuuri exhaled silently. He rubbed his forehead. “He pisses me off. He really does!”

 

“Yuuri,” suddenly Kyota asked after an idea occurred to him, “what would have you done if he had not challenged Faraya?”

 

“I'd have sentenced him to death anyway. That was the original plan.”

 

Kyota stared at his king's dark eyes. Gods, he though, the man is scary.

 

“What?” Yuuri snarled. “You think I'd let a man who touched my husband walk around as if nothing had ever happened? What I'm angry about is that Wolfram risked his life needlessly!”

 

Kyota knocked down the rest of his brandy. “Why didn't you tell him? You know how Wolfram is. But why did you…?”

 

“Oh, I know perfectly well how he is,” Yuuri snorted. “And it's always me who-”

 

“You know,” Kyota stood up abruptly. “You two are idiots. You truly are. I'm leaving first thing in the morning,” he shook his head. “Seriously, you two are worthy of each other. One is an idiot, the other a moron.”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth.

 

“Rather than using it for drinking,” Kyota glared at him, pointing at Yuuri's mouth, “…use it to finally communicate with your husband. To really talk! For all the gods' sakes!” he grunted, slamming the door behind him. “And thanks for the brandy!” he shouted from behind the door.

 

Yuuri also chugged the rest of the brandy down. “Really,” he sighed, “what insolence!”

 

XXXXX

 

When Wolfram came to Yuuri as asked, he immediately felt the heavy atmosphere in the study. Was there a smell of alcohol in the air? There was something wrong with the way Yuuri was standing and the feeling only worsened when his husband turned around. Yuuri was angry, but not only that. He was also…hurt, sad?

 

The king slowly approached Wolfram. The blond could see that his husband was almost trembling in anger, working to contain it, his fists tightly pressed at his sides.

 

Wolfram took several steps forward. “Yuuri..? What happened? Why…” the rest of the sentence stuck in his throat at the stare his husband gave him. What could he have done to deserve that look?!

 

“Why didn't you ever tell me?! Why?!” Yuuri bellowed at his astonished husband.

 

The sudden realization hit Wolfram and he took one step backwards at Yuuri's furious face. Yuuri was drunk. But not only was he drunk, he also knew. How? Who…?

 

“Wolfram! Answer me!” Yuuri shouted, closing in again.

 

Wolfram stared at his husband, his heart pounding loudly and sweat breaking out. He felt himself starting to shake nervously. “I…” He brushed over his sweaty forehead. “I just…”

 

“Why the fuck did you keep silent?!”

 

Wolfram flinched, but then his eyes got a firm expression. “Can't you really understand why?”

 

“What should I understand, eh?! What?! We are married for how many years now?! Damnit! There should be no secrets between us! Why the hell did you stay silent until the last?”

 

Wolfram snorted, “Especially because we are married there are secrets that are better left untold!”

 

“Wolfram!” Yuuri grabbed Wolfram by his shoulders and shook him fiercely. “Trust is something that you should respect! I trusted in you to-”

 

“It was my problem and I have dealt with it!”

 

Yuuri's face was now so close to his husband's that they were almost touching foreheads. “No, you didn't deal with it!” he hissed. “All you did was hide it from me and risk your life!”

 

“Yuuri, stop it!” Wolfram tried to pry his husband's hands away from his shoulders. Yuuri was still shaking him violently. “It hurts, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri snarled and pushed Wolfram away. The blond lost his footing and landed on his backside.

 

“Hurts…” Yuuri repeated. “Hurts, he says…” he mocked. “And can you imagine how much YOU have hurt me?!” he yelled down at Wolfram.

 

“Yuuri, stop it!”

 

Yuuri's eyes flashed in anger, but he kept his mouth closed. Then he turned away from Wolfram. Not saying a word, he left the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

From his position on the floor, Wolfram stared at the door. He was scared. What if Yuuri… What if… He hadn't told Yuuri because he was afraid of the reaction he would get. He didn't mind pity, he didn't mind jealousy, he didn't even mind anger, the only thing he was afraid of was disgust. There were cases…and Yuuri was a king and he was a king's husband and… If this spread…

 

Pulling his legs up, Wolfram put his head onto his knees with a low groan. If this spread further… The anger that he suddenly felt welling up in him was something he hadn't felt for quite some time. Amae couldn't have told Yuuri. Amae wouldn't have seen any reason to interfere, but Kyota… The fucker.

 

Wolfram couldn't remember when he had felt such hurt and betrayal. Never probably. Anger and frustration clawing at him, he tore out of the study, dashed through several corridors and whipped into Kyota's room.

 

Kyota thought that his head was knocked off his shoulders. Not managing to orient himself, he fell backwards, hitting the floor. Cradling his jaw, he raised his head to look at Wolfram standing above him. The blond's arms were tightly strung at his sides, his chest heaving in furious pants. There was so much anger and hurt in his eyes that Kyota stopped breathing momentary. He waited for Wolfram to shout or punch him again, but the blond just turned around and stormed off again.

 

Frozen in the corridor, Amae watched the prince leave. Wolfram had not even noticed him there.

 

“What did he punch you for?” Amae asked, sighing. He walked over to help Kyota stand up.

 

Slowly, Kyota rose. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his jaw again. “He thinks I said something I shouldn't have,” he said finally. “But it seems Yuuri forgot to mention that he had known it all along…”

 

“Ah, you mean the rape?”

 

Kyota stared at him. Then he wondered why he was surprised. Amae had been with Wolfram at the time, he must have known all along. He tried to look at Amae's fingers that were familiarly prodding his chin searching for any cracks in the bone. “And why the hell are you touching me?” he snorted, pushing Amae away from him.

 

XXXXX

 

Wolfram stood there for several long and painfully silent seconds. Yuuri was sitting in the armchair at the window. Wolfram hoped that by this time Yuuri had sobered up.

 

Tentatively, Wolfram stepped forward. “Yuuri…”

 

There was no sign that Yuuri had heard him. Unmoving, he was staring through the window. But a few moments later he sighed and turned to Wolfram. “I… I might have overdone things a little… I'm sorry. It's just…” He lowered his head again. “I thought we… It really hurt me, Wolfram.”

 

Wolfram was next to Yuuri in a blink of an eye, kneeling and grabbing his husband's hands. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was so afraid that… I…” he pressed his forehead to the hands he was grasping.

 

“I am also at fault,” Yuuri shook his head. “I should have talked to you as soon as I understood.” He saw Wolfram's surprised reaction. “Oh. Yes, I've known for a while now. Actually, I started suspecting twenty years ago. Your habits during sex changed a bit. But otherwise you acted as if nothing had happened. You never said anything. And in the end I just wrote it off as my oversensitive imagination.”

 

“Oh. Really?” Wolfram lowered his head. He was so relieved that it almost hurt. His fear of Yuuri feeling disgusted had been an empty one. Then he remembered. “I've just punched Kyota for nothing.”

 

“I'm sure he deserved it for something,” Yuuri shrugged, unconcerned. “Wolfram, tell me one thing. If all this repeated, would you tell me this time?” he asked looking at Wolfram's bowed head.

 

Wolfram tensed. He was silent for several seconds. “No.”

 

Yuuri felt the urge to hit Wolfram, to simply beat some sense into him. Yuuri glared at Wolfram's head which now rose a few centimeters up from his hands.

 

“Yuuri, it hurts.”

 

It took a few seconds for Yuuri to understand which pain Wolfram was talking about and realize that he was squeezing Wolfram's hands with all the strength he had. He disengaged his hands quickly. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Yuuri, what I'm most afraid is that you would feel disgusted with me. I could never live with that. I did what I did to protect our relationship.”

 

Yuuri sighed. He stood up. This was a lost case. The two of them had a different understanding of how to protect their relationship. Both of them were doing it in their own unique way.

 

“I would have killed him, you know,” Yuuri said. “I did not think you would be so stupid as to challenge him. But I also had no idea he was an idiot who would ever accept your challenge. I would have just sentenced him to death. Shori would have backed me up. He would have been dead by now one way or another.”

 

From the floor, Wolfram was staring at Yuuri's back. “All you ever said to me was that he was going to be sentenced for a few years of captivity.”

 

Yuuri gave him a sheepish and embarrassed smile. “I was pissed, Wolfram. I still am. You've kept silent until the very end, and I thought to give you a taste of your own medicine. Just to make you sweat a little.”

 

“He might have told everyone what he did to me.”

 

Yuuri was silent. He turned to look at Wolfram. “He wouldn't have,” he said then. “He knew that that it would be the end for him.”

 

“I had to be sure.”

 

Yuuri nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. He could understand Wolfram's reasoning. He did not agree with it, but he could understand it.

 

Yuuri rubbed his forehead, he had been nursing a headache for what seemed like forever. “I'm tired,” he said, his voice quiet. And it wasn't until he said it that he truly felt it. He was exhausted, all his energy draining down his body and away, leaving nothing but dregs. He didn't have the energy to be angry or resentful, or to feel much at all. Yuuri turned to look at Wolfram who sat unmoving on the floor, just watching his husband with large, haunted eyes.

 

“I'm going to bed.”

 

Wolfram slowly nodded.

 

Turning his back on the blond, Yuuri forced his numb legs to carry him to the door to the bedroom, one slow determined step after another. At the doorway, he paused, one hand on the jamb, and lowering his head, his voice barely carrying over his shoulder, he spoke. It was mostly for himself, but he needed to say it.

 

“Years ago, Murata told me that one day you would be the sword of the kingdom. And I would be its shield.” He paused, drawing a breath and letting it out on a soft sigh, “I just wish that once in a while you'd let me be your shield.'

 

“Yuuri...” Wolfram began, but his voice faltered and he fell silent as Yuuri shook his head. Yuuri just continued on through the doorway and out of the blond's sight.

 

It was hours later, and Yuuri still lay awake, one arm bent behind his head and his open eyes focused on the canopy of the large bed. Tried as he was, he was unable to fall asleep. He just laid there, trying not to think, letting the feeling of not feeling wash over him. Wolfram had wordlessly slipped into the bed some time ago and Yuuri assumed that his husband had fallen asleep with his back to him. Somehow, Wolfram could always do that. Maybe it was the military training that let him sleep whenever and wherever, no matter what was going on. Whatever it was, Yuuri wished he shared the ability, because it looked like he wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

 

Yuuri drew in a breath for a sigh, but suddenly held it as Wolfram's voice floated to his ears.

 

“When I was first thrown into Faraya's harem, I fought them over every little thing. I was tied up, beaten...denied food and water. I made them pay every time they touched me.”

 

Wide dark eyes cut to Wolfram's side of the bed. The blond hadn't moved, still laying on his side, facing away from his husband. The words were soft and slow and Yuuri struggled to keep his breathing quiet, knowing that if he made a sound...if he moved, the spell would be broken and Wolfram would stop talking. Stop letting Yuuri in. He would fall silent again, closing off the part of himself that wasn't in control, wasn't tough enough.

 

“It shouldn't be a surprise, I guess, to discover that in that sort of place, the occupants use anything and everything to make their lives better. But better isn't always the same for everyone. Some wanted material things. Some wanted attention. And some wanted to be the one lording it over everyone else. It was politics every day, for the smallest of things.”

 

Yuuri dared a small movement, slowly turning his head, but not letting his gaze waver from the spill of sunshine blond, now slivered by the light from the moon and the stars that filtered through the open window on the wall beyond the bed. But he worried that even that had been too much, as Wolfram didn't speak for several long breaths. He was just opening his mouth to say something, anything, when Wolfram started again.

 

“Days pass with nothing to do but try to resist being molded into what they want you to be. There's no point flinging yourself against the same wall, over and over. Once you learn how solid the wall is, you only weaken yourself. And maybe lose the one chance you might get. So, instead of kicking and screaming and swinging at everything that moves, eventually, you either get smart or you become one of their playthings."

 

Yuuri fretted at the calm voice. It cost so much for Wolfram to say all this. Yuuri's body ached with the desire to roll over and wrap his arms around his husband, but he couldn't move.

 

“The first time Faraya came after me, I fought him off. Oh, I was messed up pretty good, he was so much bigger and stronger. And I hadn't really been eating...and…”

 

On his side of the bed Yuuri's teeth clinched and he made himself breathe.

 

"Amae helped me after that. He had been sneaking food to me at times and doing what he could to make me feel better. Even drawing Faraya's attention to himself to give me some space.

 

“I studied the guards...the timing of the meals...the personalities of the others...anything. Then I laid my plans. Amae was a part of the plan. He wanted to escape....but... I had to get out before Faraya could- I was tricked. I thought the drink had come from an ally...but it was a trick. And I...

 

“I couldn't think. My thoughts were...clouded. I remember being hot.... and I couldn't stay still. My body wasn't mine anymore... and more than anything else, I wanted...I just... “

 

Yuuri had wanted Wolfram to tell him everything, to bare all of himself, but now, hearing the whispering voice that was and was not Wolfram, Yuuri changed his mind. His pride, his ego wasn't worth this, nothing was. He began to reach for Wolfram's shoulder, to stop the words, to let it be over.

 

“I thought it was you, Yuuri. I thought it was you, so I didn't... I let him...” the shaking voice trailed off into silence.

 

Still turned away, buried in the sheets, Wolfram took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then let it go in a shuddering sigh. His voice was steady again as he spoke, “I don't remember much from the next day. But Amae told me that I was having a bad reaction to the drug. The healer had to be called. And when my mind was clear again, I knew what I had to do. Kyota had found out where I was and eventually, I was able to get a message to him. I used the desires of the only dangerous guard against him and tricked Faraya into killing him.”

 

Wolfram was speaking more quickly now, and Yuuri lowered his arm back to the bed. It seemed that Wolfram had passed his point of greatest difficulty and was heading to the end of his tale.

 

“Of course, when we escaped, Faraya's spy went with us. I had expected that, so it wasn't anything that I wasn't ready for. Kyota had brought our troops close enough for us to get to them before Faraya could catch up to us. It wasn't long before Faraya and his forces found us and attacked. We were doing well enough until I took that arrow... and you know the rest.”

 

“And I know the rest,” Yuuri whispered to himself. Now, he knew it all. The small details were not important. Yuuri hadn't needed them. It had been not about details.

 

Yuuri he let his fingers slide into the messy golden locks that had escaped the grasp of the sheets. He caught a skein of the silken mass between his thumb and first two fingers and stroked it, marveling at the softness. Feeling the fingers in his hair, Wolfram rolled over, pulling the covers down, low enough to expose a pair of searching emerald eyes.

 

If those eyes were expecting to see pity, or anger or disgust, that wasn't what they saw. A smile, warm and welcoming, curved the lips and the hand at his head urged him to come closer, to snuggle up against the warm body of his husband. And in a sense of wonder, Wolfram pressed himself firmly against the length of Yuuri's body, laying his head on his husband's shoulder, and feeling strong arms encircle him.

 

They lay together like that for a while, each one letting their emotions settle.

 

Stroking through the golden hair, Yuuri smiled at his husband, and emerald eyes turned up to him questioningly.

 

“Wolfram, it's all in the past now. Let's go to Ekara tomorrow. We'll release the soul and just keep on living as we did.”

 

Wolfram stared into the dark eyes. Twenty years ago, in Faraya's palace, he had been waiting for Yuuri to burst in through the door and to end the nightmare. But his savior in shining armor and on a black horse never came. Not then. But he had come now. The heavy stone of guilt and fear was gone from his chest and he was finally able to breathe freely.

 

He smiled at Yuuri. “Yes, let's do that.”

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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