Dawn

The grass was soft beneath him. The scent of the earth around him was a pungent aroma that sang of life in the fields. In the far distance he could hear cattle as they grazed on the tall sweet grasses. Beyond them, out of hearing, he knew that horses gamboled and ran; playing and dancing in the warm spring air.

He reached to the side and plucked a blade of grass, putting it between his lips he pulled it in and began to gently nibble the raw end. He took his arms and crossed them behind his head. He stretched lightly and then crossed one leg over his knee as he pulled it up. He gently hummed out of tune as he bobbed his ankle to the rhythm.

Yes, this was what he’d needed. What he’d craved in those darker moments. To be here again, in his field. He paused his humming to refresh his blade of sweet grass. He did it without bothering to open his eyes. It wasn’t necessary, not really, for he knew this field. It was his field. Beside the one place that he himself could claim. He’d run in these fields as a child. He’d played imaginary games with imaginary friends as he’d run and hid and dreamed.

There was no rock, no burrow, no tree or blade of grass in this field, his field, that he did not know. He saw the colors of the leaves in every season before him an endless palette of color that came so easily to memory but proved so elusive whenever he put paint to brush. His fingers twitched at the rough burr of bark underhand.

He rolled his shoulders and felt the soft give of the grass beneath him. Even this, the soft welcoming embrace of his field was known. It was his greatest secret, his sole treasure. It was the one place he longed to be, whether he was miles away or just feet. The knowledge and memory of this, his secret place, was enough to comfort him at times of darkest isolation.

He shook such thoughts away and began again to hum. This time he tried to copy a bawdy tavern song he’d heard once in passing. The jovial beat seemed to suit his field much better than his melancholy mood. He heard an angels voice begin to sing along. Very faintly at first and then louder. Slowly growing in volume and clarity as it neared him.

He slowed his humming to listen and was startled when the voice stopped singing too. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking around to spot the voice that would intrude upon him here in his field. He turned his head from left to right, and seeing nothing back again. Jumping to see the small smiling face at his left.

“Greta! What are you doing here?”

She giggled before answering, “I think the better question is what are you doing here, Wolfram?”

“This is my field, why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Because you have other things to do right now.”

“What things? We already made arraignments to come here. Remember, Greta, after the conference-“ his voice died as disjointed bits began to swim in front of them. They hovered like butterflies in the air. Some seemed suspended and strangely still while others flitted from side to side and up and down, constantly reorganizing themselves.

He caught movement at his side and found his eyes locked with Greta’s. The field around them faded to stillness as he felt his throat burn and tears well. He lowered his chin tucking it into his chest as he drew his legs in hugging them close to his body. He wanted so badly to reach over and pull Greta into his arms and yet couldn’t bare to be this close to her. It made things too real, too painful.

“It’s okay, Wolfram, I know that I’m gone.”

He looked up in disbelief, her voice had sounded…content?

Greta smiled at the shocked look on Wolfram’s face. She crossed her legs under her and smoothed out the fabric on her lap. “I knew what was happening when Yuri handed me to you. I was there when you took me into the chapel. I’ve been here with you since it all happened. I was with you in the dark, even though you couldn’t see or hear me. That’s why I’m here now, Wolfram.” Her voice which had started out light turned harsher with her last words.

“What do you mean?” Wolfram felt lost. He didn’t know if he could take the agony of knowing that Greta had been aware of everything going on around her in the courtyard. There had been so much pain, so much confusion. To know that she had felt it all, that she had not had the comfort of oblivion, made his heart weep.

But to hear her say that she had been there with him in the darkness, no; that must be wrong. He knew that he had been alone. That had been the greatest coldness, the feeling of utter isolation. He shook his head and felt the merest whisper across his cheek.

Greta frowned as she removed her hand. “You came very close to dying with me, Wolfram. I stayed so that you wouldn’t have to make the journey alone. But when you were given the choice to stay or leave, you nearly chose.” Greta shook her head, her curls falling around her face as she glared.

“Don’t you see, Wolfram, you nearly chose. You don’t choose, Wolfram, you fight. You always fight. About everything, it’s who you are. And you stopped fighting. That’s why I’m here now.” She moved closer to him, her knees almost touching his hip.

“You were my first friend. The first person to see all of who I am, and still stand beside me. After my parents death, the happiest I’ve ever been was when you and I were partners. Learning to be a family again, with you, Wolfram; it was the only thing that let me say good-bye to Yuri.” She looked pleadingly into his face.

“The day after he left when you came to me, and we promised to always be there for each other. To never let another leave-I promised that with you. You let me cry and scream and shout and you never left me. You made me keep going. Don’t you understand, Wolfram? You made me keep fighting. For you to nearly choose now, it makes it seem like all the struggle, all the pain before, it makes it seem like it doesn’t matter.” She stopped on a sigh and looked to see that Wolfram had stilled in front of her.

His head was up, his gaze thoughtful as he took in her words. He let them soothe his confusion and felt his jaw clench reflexively as he swallowed his emotion. He was still unprepared for her next question though.

“Did it matter, Wolfram? I need to know. Because you see, it mattered to me. It was the only thing that made sense in a long time-it was the only thing that mattered in a long time; to me. And I need to know if it mattered to you too. Even if it was just a little-“

Wolfram’s arms fell around Greta pulling her close into his body as he settled his face into the top of her head. Reveling at the joy of having her there, in his arms again. Her words cut off by his chest, he could do nothing but sit there gently rocking her and whispering over and over in her ear, “It mattered, Greta, it mattered.” He could feel as her arms came around him and gave a firm squeeze before she seemed to fade. He pulled back, anxiety written across his face. “Greta what-“

“It’s okay, Wolfram. I have to go now.” She smiled bravely, “I know you’ll fight now, so it’s time for me to go.”

“But wait! How will I-Why do you-“

“Good-bye Wolfram.”

“Will I see you again, Greta?” he tried calling out, hoping for an answer as her form faded even more. He saw her smile and shake her head. Another thought occurred to him and her shouted frantically, “Wait! Will I remember this? Greta! Greta!” and she was gone. He couldn’t tell if she had shaken her head before she’d faded completely or if that had been his imagination. He looked down at his hands and saw the edges of the field around him begin to blur.

He looked around and watched as the world itself seemed to fade, until his eyes felt weighted and he sank. Into oblivion.

*****

“Get out of my way Gunter!” Yuri yelled as he tried to throw himself past the tall figure in the doorway.

“It hurts me to have to deny you, Majesty, but I cannot allow you to go to him.”

“Gunter, shut and up and let me go! I mean it. Move!” Yuri made another mad dash and attempted to duck under the arms that were spread, barring exit form his chamber. When this latest attempt failed too, he tried to pull himself up and channel his energy to force his will. A weary voice from behind stopped him.

“Yuri, stop.” Murata was seated on Yuri’s bed his arms resting on his knees as he slouched forward. “You need to calm down, Yuri, before someone gets hurt; again.”

Yuri felt his head pivot like an owl’s as he turned to look at Ken.

“What do mean? How can you tell me to-“

Ken gave a huff as he jumped to a standing position and moved directly in front of Yuri. “Am I your friend?” he questioned.

“What?”

“Am I your friend, Yuri? Yes or no; am I your friend?” he questioned again.

“Yes, but what does that have-“

Ken moved even closer so that he was now literally in Yuri’s face, pushing the Maou slightly off balance. As he saw Yuri start to move back, Ken pressed his suit and reached forward to push Yuri into the chair that was now behind him. As he fell, Ken loomed over him, trying to direct his words so that they fell like a cage around the struggling man.

“Then if I am your friend you know that I do not lie. You know that as your friend I try to help you. You understand that as your friend I always have your best interests at heart. You acknowledge that as your friend if I say something or tell you something it’s because you need to know it, you need to hear it; right?”

“Yes, yes, yes. We all know that you’re my friend. Now knock it off and let me go. I have to get back to-“

“No, Yuri, you do not. In fact unless you’re trying to kill him again, it’s best that you stay away from Wolfram entirely.” Silence was a stark void in the room. The absence of words or arguments as the Maou seemed to melt into the chair was enough to make Ken at his own words. But he forged ahead.

“Yuri, Greta is dead. She died in the attack on your life. You channeled enough power to literally fry the bastard responsible and for all that we’ve been able to tell every other stinkin’ rat that was in on it.” Ken sighed as he ran a hand through his already disordered hair.

“Yuri, we still don’t know how many people exactly that was. Shin Makoku is standing on the brink of chaos at your sudden return and the assassination attempt. And by the acts of violence both against you and by you, we now stand on the brink of war with the rest of the world.”

He could see that Yuri was struggling to remain afloat with this information. “Wolfram was gravely injured in the attack.” He saw Yuri’s hands clench the knuckles going white with strain as he tried to hide them at his sides. “He was very weak, Yuri, when you saw him.”

“I know you were only trying to heal him. But with his injuries, he was no where near being able to handle the amount of raw energy you tried to feed him. It caused his wounds to reopen. His body started to shut down to try and force the power feed to stop. He nearly bled to death, Yuri, you nearly killed him.

Yuri’s head was down, his whole body shook from the effort to quiet his sobs. But nothing could stop the flow of tears as the fell down his face, splashing his hands and knees as he fought to keep himself still and silent. He felt movement in front of him shortly before he felt a hand on his shoulder offering support.

Ken knelt in front of his Maou, offering the only thing he could; his silence.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Ken. This wasn’t supposed to be what happened. How could this happen, Ken?”

He shrugged and tried to channel his inner Shibuya, “It wasn’t what we hoped for, Yuri, and it isn’t what you were planning on; certainly. But who knows what’s meant to be except the Gods. And even though you are Maou and I’m the Great Sage, neither of us are Gods. Who are we to assume we know anything; neh?”

Yuri contemplated his words and struggled to breath through his confusion and pain. “What am I supposed to do now then?”

Murata smiled before rising from his knees to slap a hand across Yuri’s back, “Ahh, as to that, Yuri, we let Gwendel wait on Conrart and Josak for more information from our spy network while he forms new tactical plans for the protection of the kingdom, while you and I and Gunter sit down and make plans for rebuilding peace between the countries so that Gwendel’s plans never have to be acted upon.” He frowned before continuing in a more somber tone, “We also need to plan for Greta now, Yuri. We couldn’t do anything while both you and Wolfram were unavailable, but now that you are able we need to make arrangements for her.”

Yuri could feel his heart breaking, but knew he had to continue. Ken had been right earlier. He had made his choice. And even though nothing had turned out the way he’d expected or hoped it would. He couldn’t back out of things now. He couldn’t turn his back again for a second time. If Ken’s words were true. This was all his fault for having turned his back on his people a first time. He would not doom them to a second.

He closed his eyes and straightened, mentally girding himself for what he knew was going to prove a very painful trying time. His first focus was Greta, his daughter. He knew that he would need to begin thinking about his people and kingdom and peace, but he tried to push everything else away for the moment. Wolfram, his grief, the blood on his hands, Wolfram, his frustration, Wolfram. Yuri sighed, it sucked to be Maou.

**A/N**
Okay so hopefully this chappie answered some questions. And going by the responses I've gotten, I know what our next chappie will contain. So dust off your dirges people, it's time to mourn.

Also Just wanted to give a quick shout out to AliceM, Luna_the_Lunatic, and Moonrosesa Thank you so much for your reviews! I really hope you know how much I appreciate your words of encouragement, advice, humor and twichy dancing! They mean a lot! Seriously.

I'm borrowing from a fellow fanfiction author whom I respect a lot and saying, "Reviews are Fuel!" and they are NEVER offensive, so even if you don't like something I do, please; let me know! We're in this together after all.