Love and War

Disclaimer: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou or any of it’s characters.

Warnings: Of course, spoilers. But other than that, nothing else for this chapter. It’s just drawn out and suspenseful, but I did that on purpose.

In which there is a wedding and Yuuri begins to find himself becoming very confused… well, more confused that he already was…wimp.

Love and War
by Mikage

Chapter Seven

Wolfram peered at the image reflected in the mirror, frowning at the face staring back at him, annoyed by the paleness of his skin. He’d always been light and fair, and was normally infinitely pleased with his exceptional beauty; a pale complexion was a sign of nobility, after all, and he took great pride in his elevated rank. There were times, however, when he despised his good looks, when no amount of preparation could make him feel good about his appearance. He disliked looking any less than perfect, especially on special occasions where he had to appear his best in order to impress others of high society.

Now was one of those time, today was one of those occasions, and he was convinced that he looked absolutely horrible. His golden hair, which had been washed, shampooed, and brushed until it shown like the rays of the afternoon sun, refused to stay in place. A few wavy locks stubbornly curled, and would not straighten out no matter how many times he ran a comb over them. His bangs were constantly falling into his eyes, tempting him to pick up a pair of sheers and chop them shorter. He only refrained from doing so because he knew it would make his blond mane look even worse than it already did.

His clothing, too, displeased him. His mother had been so excited about having the outfit made that he’d expected to have something truly extravagant, something to make him look stunning, like the prince he would soon be. Glancing at his refection now, he couldn’t do anything but wrinkle his nose in distaste, fiddling with his white lace cravat anxiously, trying to fix it so he looked presentable. The style of the attire wasn’t bad, he could have lived with wearing it if it had been dyed in a different hue. As it was, the color clashed horribly with his eyes, or so he told himself, while his mother claimed quite the opposite.

Then there was the problem that had most recently attracted his attention: his pallid skin, which looked even paler as he nervously prepared himself for the events of the evening. He looked ghostly white, sickly, he thought, a side effect of the impatience that was also causing his stomach to churn in much the same way it did whenever he set foot on a boat. His palms were sweaty and it was difficult to calm his erratic breathing, his knees trembling slightly as he envisioned himself in front of a crowd of people, swearing himself to the country and to a man who didn’t truly love him.

He was marrying Yuuri today; the day that he’d spent years dreaming about, the day he never thought he’d actually see had finally arrived, and he was more high-strung that he’d ever been in his entire life. His heart had never pounded as harshly at it was now, he’d never been so lacking in self-confidence. In the four years that he had been engaged to the twenty-seventh Demon King, this was definitely not how he’d always imagined his wedding day would be like.

Before, he'd fancied that it would be a bright, clear spring day, with the flowers in full bloom in the gardens and the birds chirping within the trees, and he’d be happy, impatiently awaiting the moment when he’d be led into the coronation chamber to meet his future husband. Yuuri would be smiling, that large goofy smile of his that both annoyed Wolfram in it’s childishness and made him want to protect the young king more. The double black would take his hand and hold it tightly throughout the ceremony, then they'd kiss, and dance with one another for the remainder of the evening.

Instead it was late summer, although autumn seemed to be attempting to start early this year, the leaves already dyed in all colors of orange, gold, and red. The sun was currently high in the sky, and there were a few birds hopping around outside, but he could find very little to be happy about. He couldn’t care less if anyone came to escort him to the coronation chamber now, couldn’t bear the thought of walking in there and standing up on the platform with Yuuri. He didn’t want so many pairs of eyes on him when he felt so crushed. He couldn’t imagine that Yuuri would be smiling, not when he was being forced into something he didn’t want, the same way he’d practically been forced into the engagement.

Wolfram himself could hardly bare to look at him, for he knew that once he did he’d be reminded of how fake this whole day had become, how it was now more of an obligation than it was an act of love. He told himself that despite everything, he should remain happy anyway, that he should be staring at himself in the mirror with an accomplished smile. He was finally getting what he wanted; he’d be with Yuuri forever. His fiancé would never be with anyone else. He’d succeeded in capturing him completely.

But was this really what he wanted?

He’d given a lot of thought to that question over the last four weeks, and had yet to come up with a conclusive answer. Ever since his argument with Yuuri, he’d spent the past thirty days sorting things out in his mind, debating with himself as he tried to decide if this was actually a good thing or not. It was true that he was getting half of what he wanted; he was in love with the dark haired king and desired to be with him, couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone else. He wanted to be with Yuuri for as long as he could, wanted nothing more than to stay by his side and protect him, keep him safe from harm and help him through his problems.

But there was a price he had to pay for that, one he’d been paying all along but hadn’t even realized it, one that caused him so much grief it physically hurt. He could be with Yuuri, he could marry him, love him even, but Yuuri would never have feelings for him in return. To the black haired young man, this was just another one of his obligations as king, something else he had to accept and go through with for the sake of their people. Yuuri would have never agreed to this otherwise; no one would have, except for Wolfram.

The blond had said some truly awful things during their argument the night that all of this had been announced, things that he’d been holding back his whole life, things he’d never, ever meant to say out loud.

There was a part of him hidden underneath his layers of pride and arrogance that felt trapped by the kind of life he lead, caged and confined, a slave to Shin Makoku’s people. He’d been told since he was very young, by his family, by other nobles, that it was his duty to serve and protect the country, and the king or queen, that his life was devoted to Shinou and the crown. His title had constantly held him back, and his responsibilities had ensnared him, kept him in this castle like the pawn that he was.

He knew that it was wrong of him to crave freedom when there were plenty of others out there who were far worse off than he was, people who would give anything to be in his position. Some looked at him enviously because his wealth and status gave him the ability to do whatever he wanted, at least in their minds. They didn’t understand that being the son of a former queen and high ranking military officer could sometimes be just as bad as being a poor, homeless peasant. Despite everything he had, he was unable to achieve that which he truly wished for. His wants, his desires, had to be for the good of the people, always. Anything else was unimportant. Nothing else ever mattered.

When Yuuri had come along, he’d allowed himself to foolishly believe that things could be different. He hadn’t liked the other boy at first, but somehow, someway, the wimp had grown on him. His need to save his honor and dignity had slowly morphed into the need to hear Yuuri laugh, to see him smile, to hold him close when he was sad and chase his fears away. For four years he’d been given something to hope for, and he’d been able to dream that one day, after they’d been together for a while, one day Yuuri would love him back, and they’d get married and he’d at least have one thing that he wanted for himself.

Then that dream had come crashing down, and he was left struggling though this nightmare he’d found himself it.

It really hadn’t surprised him that Gwendal and the Sage had agreed to this; his oldest brother would do anything if it meant saving the kingdom, and the king’s dark haired friend had been known to plot such things for his own mysterious purposes. The fact that Gunter had thought this was a good idea could be explained away as his responsibility to Shin Makoku; in fact, that was probably the reason everyone had agreed. Wolfram was sure Conrart wouldn’t have consented under any other circumstances, and Yuuri’s answer would have been a loud and forceful “no!” if the current situation hadn’t been what it was.

Wolfram was the only one who really cared, the only one doing this for some other reason.

‘Why?’ he often wondered. ‘Why am I putting myself through this? I could have just as easily declined. I could have told Yuuri that I wouldn’t marry him unless... unless he loved me.’

But he had agreed, for the people - and because he wasn’t willing to give up, not yet, no matter what Yuuri did or how many times he pushed him away. If this was what he had to do to be with him, then he would go through with it with the dim hope that the king would one day grow to love him. It didn’t have the be tomorrow or the next day, or even ten years from now, just as long as there was still that possibility. If they spent enough time together, if he supported Yuuri as he had been for the past four years, then maybe all that hard work would pay off, and the dark haired boy would come to care for him just as much.

“Look at you! You look gorgeous!” his mother gushed from where she stood behind him, dressed in a slightly more elegant gown than her normal slinky attire, though still managing to show off all of her voluptuous curves.

He was currently in his mother’s luxurious suite of rooms, standing before her full length mirror in all his splendor as she circled him to get a look from all angles, squealing and giggling in delight at what she thought was a rather pleasing picture of her youngest son. Greta also stood close by, occasionally smoothing out her dark, rich gown or twirling around at her grandmother’s insistence, patiently awaiting the time when they would all make their way to the large room where the ceremony would take place, a beautiful smile lighting up her pretty face.

Wolfram could see his father through the looking class as well, standing still and silent by the door, nodding to a few of his ex-wife’s questions but refraining from speaking any words. The golden blond haired boy was thankful that he wasn’t attempting to talk to him; he wouldn’t know what to do or say, how to act in front of him when he was already nervous as hell. Any more stress and he’d probably start hyperventilating. As it was, he was already dangerously close to having a another girly fainting spell, and felt very much like lying down until the waves of nervousness ebbed away, though he didn’t think they’d completely dissipate any time soon. The only thing keeping him on his feet and conscious was his stubbornness.

“I feel sick,” he admitted to his over-excited mother, fiddling with his cravat yet again, his hands shaking as he went through the motion.

“You’ll be fine,” Cecilie told him confidently, then looked thoughtful for a moment, her head tilted to the side. “Though you do look a little pale. I hope you’re not coming down with anything. Hmm...” She tapped her cheek a few times before moving to retrieve something from her vanity. “Well, we can’t have you going in there looking like you’ve seen a ghost. Come here and let me put some powder on your face.”

“Mother,” he immediately began to protest, though he didn’t feel as if he could put up much of a fight right now. “I am not going to wear makeup.”

“It’ll only be a little bit, just so you don’t look so white. No one will be able to tell.”

When he didn’t reply or make any move in her direction, the blonde haired woman put on the most demanding face she could, hands going to rest on her hips in mock anger. “Don’t be so difficult. Come here,” she repeated her command, smiling pleasantly when he complied. “Sit,” she told him once he stood before her vanity, pushing him down into the wooden chair that sat in front of it. “Good boy.”

Wolfram obediently sat still as she went about the task of brushing some of her powder onto his face, just enough to bring some color back but too little to be extremely noticeable. Once she was done and he was again staring at his reflection, he had to admit - at least to himself - that he looked much better than he had only seconds earlier, his sick paleness now concealed. Now if only it could be that easy to stop the shaking of his hands and slow the rapid beating of his heart.

“There!” Celi cooed, beaming as she happily clasped her hands together. “Now just stop looking so nervous and you’ll be fine! Smile, Wolfie! You’re finally getting married! You should be happy!”

“Well, I’m not,” he told her, cutting her off before she could go on some long, drawn out spiel about her last wedding and how magnificent it had been. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said with a sigh, silently wondering what he was letting himself get dragged into.

By the end of the day he would officially be the Prince Consort, the equivalent to a queen in rank and authority, with all the powers and duties that Yuuri had to deal with as king. He didn’t really like the idea of taking the throne, knew it would only tighten the chains he’d been locked in since birth, hold him back even further and deepen his responsibilities to the people. It was not something he would have willingly agreed to had it not been for Yuuri, had he not had such strong feelings for the other boy. The burdens of king were not something he’d ever wanted to have to face.

When Yuuri and Greta passed away, Wolfram knew that the kingdom would be left to him. That was something he dreaded more than anything else. He didn’t want to be left behind by the two people he cared about most in the world, nor did he want to have to deal with all the issues that would arise when they were gone. Most likely he’d have to marry a second time in order to have an heir of his own, regardless of his loyalty and faithfulness to Yuuri, his first husband. It made him ill to think that he’d one day have to wake up beside someone other than Yuuri, or have some other child take Greta’s place.

It was thoughts like these that made him curse his fate, that made him think twice about his heritage and how he felt about the other race. Why did Yuuri and Greta have to have human blood? Why did he have to be a Mazoku? Why couldn’t he age like they did, grow old like they did, and die when they did? He didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to let them go, knew that life would cease to have any sort of meaning when they were no longer by his side. There would be no happiness, no more joy, just days spent consumed by loneliness, waiting for the decades and centuries to pass until he would be with them again.

‘Stop thinking like that,’ he inwardly told himself, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of his depression. ‘You’ve still got time, and there’s always a chance that Yuuri’s Mazoku blood could take over one day. You shouldn’t have to worry about any of that for a while yet.’

But it didn’t stop him from feeling so hopeless.

The door creaking open managed to distract him, and he turned to watch as his half-human brother stepped into the room, dressed in an outfit far more appropriate for today’s ceremony that his usual tan uniform. It was odd to see the older man so dressed up. Conrart had never been one to care much for his appearance; as long as he looked decent then that was fine by him. For him to go through all he trouble of dressing in more regal looking clothing meant that it was truly a special occasion. Wolfram couldn’t even remember the last time he’d worn such things.

“We should be making our way to the ceremony now,” he informed them, as calm as always, though if Wolfram took the time to look hard enough, he could see a glint of uncertainly in his warm brown eyes.

Celi squealed excitedly and pulled Wolfram out of the chair, hardly giving him any time to speak before she was pushing him out of the room, Greta and his father following them out into the hallway. Gwendal was waiting out there along with the brown haired soldier, clothed in the formal garments he usually only wore when meeting with dignitaries from other countries. His expression was neutral, calm, cool and collected, like he was feeling no stress whatsoever, standing tall as he lead the way down the corridor, refraining from speaking and letting silence descend upon them.

The blond haired Mazoku boy felt like his was walking towards his doom, green eyes staring straight ahead, refusing to look at anyone as his heart continued to beat wildly, echoing in his ears the same way the clicking of his boots resounded off the walls. He could hardly breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to take in some air, his stomach twisting and churning, making him glad he hadn’t eaten anything that day, knowing he would have made a mess on the floor.

He was hot and cold all at the same time, sweating in worry as a shiver made it’s way down his spine, causing him to shudder noticeably, the reaction prompting Conrart to lift a hand and place it on one of his shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. Instead of shrugging it off and shooting a glare in his direction, Wolfram allowed the physical contact, secretly glad that there was at least one person who noticed his feelings of melancholy, even if it was the last person he wanted to share his fears and frustrations with. It was nice simply to feel that warmth, that caring, when no one else seemed to see how much he was hurting.

“You’re going to do fine,” his second brother whispered to him in reassurance.

The younger male nodded, even if he didn’t quite believe him, their group stopping in front of the double doors that lead into the room where the wedding was to be held, the same room Yuuri had had his coronation ceremony in. Wolfram took a deep breath and closed his eyes as Conrart dropped his hand, trying to calm himself down enough so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself while walking up to where Yuuri was surely already waiting.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

As the doors slid open, Wolfram’s heart lurched, and though he remained calm and appeared confident on the outside, there was something inside of him that was screaming, telling him to turn and run, to do something, anything to prevent himself form making one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

But he remained where he was, and his heart cracked just a little bit more.

* * *

Shibuya Yuuri swallowed hard as he watched to room slowly fill to the max, a steady stream of their guests walking down the isle to bow before him, then take their seats in the chairs that had been set up so that they would not be left standing. The last time he remembered standing in front of such a large group of people was the day he’d been coronated, when Lady Celi had officially left the throne to him and he’d been crowned the king. He’d thought the crowd that had gathered then had been large, but it was nothing compared to this.

He’d spent the day pacing in his room, walking from one side to the other, peering out the windows every few seconds but not really looking at anything, the hours passing so slowly that it was as if a whole week had gone by in half a day. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, his bed devoid of the other warm body that always lay beside him, his mind muddled with too many thoughts to be able to fall into the land of dreams. When he’d finally managed to tumble off to sleep, the sun had already begun to rise, and he’d been awakened not even two hours later by the early morning sounds that often accompanied castle life.

Breakfast had been served in his bed chamber, where he’d eaten with his mother, father, Shori, and Greta. The fact that he’d had a decent appetite had surprised him, and he’d been able to put away most of the food on his plate before the butterflies in his stomach had made it impossible to consume any more. He’d sat quietly and listened to his parents, older brother and daughter as they’d talked between themselves, but hadn’t had anything to add to the conversation. His mom had noticed his sullen mood and tried to get him to speak up, but he’d just smiled at her before losing himself in his thoughts again.

He hadn’t seen Wolfram at all since the previous morning. At first, when he’d been told that they would be separated for a whole twenty-four hours before the wedding, he’d thought that the time apart would make things a little easier for the both of them. He’d quickly found out over the course of the day that that was not the case at all. If anything, being unable to see his friend, not knowing how he was doing or if he was still okay, increased the anxiety that had already built up within him to the point of madness. He’d grown so used to having Wolfram constantly at his side, or at the very least close enough to be able to turn and see him, that he felt antsy to suddenly not have him there.

Yuuri had tried to take his mind off of everything as the hours had gone by torturously slow, only to fail miserably. Playing games with Greta only made him remembered all the times he’d stood by and watched Wolfram do the same. Spending time with his mom and dad made him wonder if Wolfram was with his own parents, perhaps trying to distract himself as well. Talking with Shori and noticing the overprotective streak he still possessed reminded the young king of Conrad, which lead to thoughts of his guardian’s younger brother and how much things had changed between them.

He’d almost gone insane worrying about every little thing, from how his clothes fit to how many people would be there, to the way a lock of his hair stuck out at an odd angle to how their guests would be seated at the reception. He’d never been so insecure before, not even during the ceremony where the Aristocrats had given their approval, not at any point in the past, because even then he’d been able to fool himself into believing that it was all a dream, that this wasn’t happening. Now, with his family here and his fiancé off getting ready in another part of the castle, he was finally forced to admit that his was real, that he had Wolfram were getting married.

Of course he’d been expecting it for the last four weeks. There was no way he’d been able to completely deny it with all the preparations taking place around him. It had simply been easy to ignore it, to imagine that all of the hustle and bustle was caused by something else, some dinner party that Lady Celi had felt like throwing to bring everyone together and brighten their spirits. It hadn’t felt like a wedding until last night, when he’d been alone in bed in this world for the first time in four years, when he’d woken up to the castle full of laughter and excitement, and he’d begun to prepare himself for the ceremony.

A new uniform had been tailored for him, though it looked exactly like all the others he owned and wore almost every day that he spent in Shin Makoku. The only difference was that the fabric was slightly more expensive - imported, he’d been told - and the buttons that kept his jacket shut were pure gold, glittering brilliantly as he’d fastened each one. His black shoes were also brand new, stiff and free of scuffs, a little uncomfortable until his pacing had broken them in. He’d hidden Julia’s necklace under the layers of his clothing like he always had since the night Conrad had placed it in his care, raising his hand periodically to touch it through his jacket and shirt, saying a silent prayer to anyone who was listening that everything would be okay.

Günter and Murata had come into his room as time drew closer to the start of the ceremony, sending Greta off to get dressed and wait with the other half of her large family, and Yuuri had watched her happily scamper out with a growing sense of trepidation. His lavender haired tutor had then helped fasten the blue drape around his shoulders, one of the only things really fancy and royal looking about his whole outfit. Yuuri had taken a few minutes to adjust the two golden cords that peeked out form beneath the azure fabric, his mom using a white handkerchief to rub all traces of finger prints and any stray dust off of the large ruby gemstone on his left shoulder.

She took a few seconds to marvel at it, gasping and exclaiming how beautiful it was and how wonderful and handsome he looked, before all of the rooms occupants hushed themselves as Murata stepped up with the elaborate, golden crown that he’d rarely ever worn. The Great sage had reverently lifted it and carefully placed it atop his head of raven hair. The Gem of the Dragon king (which was occasionally borrowed by Lady Celi) sparkled from it’s place in the center, eliciting another series of gasps from his girlish, squealing mother, and a proud smile from his more down-to-earth father.

He’d hardly recognized himself as he’d looked into the mirror hanging on the wall, for though the clothing was familiar, the crown on his head was definitely not. Most of the time it was kept in the Treasure Vault - where Morgif and the Demon Flute were also stored - along with other valuable and sacred items. To have the crown seen by the public was a big deal, as he’d never before worn it in front of other people - had tried it on only once and hadn’t touched it since. He was, however, very pleased to discover that having the object on his head made him look more like he’d always imagined a king should, and though it felt odd to wear it, it was a nice addition to what was originally not a very lavish outfit.

He hadn’t had more than a couple of seconds to admire himself until he’d been ushered out of the room by Murata, leaving Günter and the rest of his family to dress and prepare themselves for the big event. His Earth friend had then proceeded to lead him towards what Yuuri had come to call the Coronation Chamber, the two of them wandering through some of the lesser used halls in order to enter through the back entrance so that the king would not be swarmed by the guest who were waiting to enter out front. The Sage had then steered him to his designated spot on the raised platform, the flowing waterfall gushing behind them.

The room had been empty when they had first arrived, save for the orchestra that had been setting up in the corner to his right, tuning their instruments and playing a few simple pieces, providing them with tranquil, soothing background music as the main doors opened and people began to make their way down the red carpeting. Yuuri gulped but forced a smile onto his face, though he hardly felt like smiling at the moment, felt more like running back to his room and locking himself in there for the rest of his life. This had to be the most nerve-wracking experience he’d ever been through, and it hadn’t even really begun yet.

“Calm down, Shibuya,” Murata whispered to him when he noticed the king’s breathing becoming a bit irregular. He was standing to Yuuri’s left, greeting people with a friendly grin and the occasional nod of his head. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” the demon king muttered, inwardly wondering how anyone could possibly be calm in such a setting. “You’re not the one who’s getting married.”

“There isn’t anything hard about it. You say a few words, stick your hand in the waterfall again, and put the crown on his head. You can’t possibly mess it up.”

“Messing up isn’t what I’m worried about,” Yuuri told him.

Slowly the room filled so that only eighteen chairs in the front row were left empty, where the Aristocrats and members of the families of the betrothed would sit. An old man in flowing white robes, the priest who would be officiating, walked in as soon as all the guests were accounted for, prompting the room to fall into silence as he ascended the few steps up the dais. The gray haired man bowed to the king and Great Sage before turning to look over the people who had assembled. The tiny orchestra began a different piece of music then, the sound of the violin proving somewhat effective in calming Yuuri’s swiftly beating heart, which had been thumping against his ribcage dramatically.

“Lords and Ladies,” the priest began, loud enough for all to hear him, his rich voice echoing off of the walls and stone columns, drowning out the sound of the gushing water behind them. “Our beloved allies and dearest friends, we have gathered here today in the heart of our great kingdom to honor our king in this most joyous of days, and to celebrate the union between His Majesty, King Yuuri Shibuya, and his fiancé, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld. But first, I ask that you please rise and pay your respects to the council who serves you as they enter.”

He made a grand sweep with both arms, motioning for those in the audience to stand to their feet. As one, the crowd of hundreds stood from their chairs, turning so that they were facing the isle, and the double doors all the way on the other side of the room opened again to allow the Aristocrats to make their grand entrance.

“Representing the territory of Hassel, Lady Griselda,” the clergyman announced as the brown haired woman passed through the doorway, as conceited as ever as she made her way down the carpet in her glamorous dress of blue velvet, her pointed nose stuck high in the air, a pleased smirk stretching her lips as all eyes fell on her. She gave the obligatory curtsey once she’d come to the end of the long red rug, then slowly took her seat, smoothing out the fabric of her gown and raising a jeweled had to fix a strand of her light brown hair, which had been curled and pinned atop her head with sapphire barrettes.

“Representing the territory of Voltaire in the place of Lord Gwendal, Lord Geigen Huber Griesela.”

Yuuri had to smile as Hube made his way in, hearing as little Elle’s voice broke through the silence of the crowd, earning a few “aww”s as she happily called out to her daddy, sitting with Nicola, Gisela, and Anissina in the second row, directly behind where Hube would seat himself beside Griselda. Hube himself turned to smile warmly at the small girl once he’d bowed to the king and sage, and Yuuri watched as Elle tried to escape from her mother and climb up into the lap of the dark gray haired man, whose violet clothing was far more formal than usual.

“Representing the territory of Spitzweg, Lord Stoffel.”

The middle aged dirty blond haired man came in, his presence eliciting a few quiet whispers, due in part to his role in the last war and all the rumors that had spread about him as a result. Stoffel paid no heed to their commenting and went through the motion of bowing to their monarch with more respect that Lady von Hassel had. He appeared quite dignified as he sat down, smiling slightly as he looked up at the dark haired king and bespectacled sage, nodding a silent greeting as the crowd began to hush themselves, quickly turning their attention to the next person to file in.

“Representing the territory of Yale, Lady Winifred.”

The lady from Yale walked in similarly to how Griselda had, causing Yuuri to roll his eyes in annoyance. He could easily say that he held no kind feelings towards that woman, though he wouldn’t dream of saying so to her face. He hid his dislike behind fake smiles that he was finding increasingly difficult to conjure up. Murata had more success in that than he did when Winifred made it to the front of the room, and Yuuri took a moment to wish that he possessed his friend’s superb acting abilities. It was hard to keep his real feelings hidden when the old hag refused to conceal her own.

“Representing the territory of Christ, Lord Günter.”

The youthful king was becoming somewhat annoyed at this point, wishing the introductions would move a little faster, wanting this over with as soon as possible. He was tempted to ask the priest to hurry it up when his black eyes caught sight of his friend, teacher, and royal advisor, who beamed a smile his way as if this were the happiest day of his life. Yuuri had actually expected the lavender haired man to start bawling, a reaction that would not be considered abnormal where von Christ was concerned. Instead the man looked infinitely pleased, as proud as a father, like he felt as if all of the long, hard hours he’d spent educating the boy had finally paid off.

Günter was dressed in full regalia, sans the white cape that usually flowed from his shoulders, his uniform a pure, crisp white with black lining. His lilac hair had been pulled back and loosely tied by an ivory ribbon of fine silk, though is bangs still fell free, framing the androgynous features of his pale face. People gawked as he passed them by, ever impressed by the radiant beauty that was Lord Günter, women staring in admiration, men in jealousy as the king’s teacher glided gracefully down the isle, bowed deeply before his beloved ruler, then sat just as nimbly.

“Representing the territory of Mannheim, Lord Julius.”

Julius entered, one of the few Mazoku Yuuri had met who had pitch black hair, only instead of having the same colored eyes that would label him a Double Black, his orbs were forest green, darker than Wolfram’s by a shade or two and not nearly as wide and vibrant. The half-human king didn’t know how to feel about Julius. On the one hand he was respectful and loyal to the throne, a trustworthy general with great strength and skill, but on the other... there was a part of Yuuri that believed the man to be somewhat vindictive, a man who carried around a great deal of anger, especially towards Yuuri’s fiancé and the rest of the Bielefeld family.

“Representing the territory of Grantz, Lady Marlena.”

It was here that Yuuri finally released a sigh of exasperation, shifting on his feet a bit as the heavy breath rustled his bangs. He spared a quick glance in Murata’s direction, only to find his friend grinning back at him in amusement, not doubt enjoying all of Yuuri’s various reactions. The black haired man had long since wondered if Murata found entertainment in other people’s discomfort and the silent, inner torment suspense could wage on a person. The Sage was delighting in this far more than any person in their right mind should, his smile widening at the soft groan that escaped from the other boy as Marlena slowly made her way up, dragging the ceremony out longer than what was really necessary.

Why couldn’t the Aristocrats enter with the other guest and save them some time?

“Representing the territory of Karbelnikoff, Lord Mikhail.”

Mikhail, thankfully, did not take as long as the others had in making his way down the isle, as if noting the king’s anxious state. Still, it was too slow for Yuuri’s liking, and he ended up staring at the far side of the room and peering through the doors, trying to catch sight of his blond fiancé. This distance was, unfortunately, too far to be able to make anyone out clearly, and he had to struggle with himself to keep from wringing his hands together or biting at his already short, dull nails. It was frustrating just standing up there waiting, and he swore to himself that whoever thought up this sort of ceremony must have surely been a sadist.

For someone who hadn’t wanted to get married in the first place - not to his best friend, not to a boy, and surely not so early in his life - waiting like this was torture. If he had to go through with this then he wanted it done quickly, so he wouldn’t have the time to chicken out and embarrass both himself and Wolfram in front of their families, the Aristocrats, and everyone else who had come all the way out here.

“Representing the territory of Bielefeld, Lord Auberon.”

The oldest of the Bielefeld brothers confidently strode into the room, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze as he made his way to his respective seat, his arrogance only serving to further grate on Yuuri’s nerves. His forced smiled had disappeared completely now, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep himself from screaming in irritation. Again he glanced at Murata out of the corner of his eye, dark eyes glowering at his advisor as he saw that the other boy was still smirking. If Yuuri had been told it was going to end up being this ridiculously long, he would have gone and had the ceremony changed beforehand.

“Representing the territory of Wincott, Lord Odell.”

‘Finally,’ Yuuri thought, relieved. Quickly he scanned over the ten people who had just entered, tallying them up in his head and making sure that all of them really were present, not wanting to get his hopes up if there were still a few more to go. It was bad enough that he had to go through with this in the first place; having to wait just made the entire experience that much worse. The feelings of apprehension that had bubbled up inside of him four weeks ago continued to grow with each title and name that was recited, his stomach twisting up into painful knots, his heartbeat picking up and his palms starting to sweat profusely. The crown on his head was beginning to feel heavy, and his clothing and the blue drape were making him hot.

“The family of His Royal Majesty, King Yuuri,” the priest announced then, causing Yuuri to perk up, his attention returning to the lengthy red carpeting. “Lord Shouma Shibuya, Lady Miko Shibuya, and the Demon King of Earth, Lord Shori Shibuya.”

They looked marvelous, the king of Shin Makoku thought, watching as the three members of his Earth family came closer, their dark hair and eyes causing a few men and women to start whispering again, having never seen so many double blacks in one place before. His father and Shori were dressed almost identical to him, in black uniforms of fine, expensive fabric, with silken sashes of blue trailing from their right shoulders, crossing their chests and tying down by their left hips. The two of them seemed a little uncomfortable at having so many pairs of eyes staring at them, like they hadn’t expected there would be this number of people in attendance.

But it was his mom who held his attention the longest, who he found himself staring at for more than a few seconds. He’d never seen her look so beautiful before. Shibuya Miko, or “Jennifer” as she preferred to be called, was a pretty woman by nature, but she’d never been given the opportunity to highlight her good looks with fine clothing and sparkling gemstones. Now she seemed to be taking advantage of the fact that they were in another world, a castle, where garments of such elegance could be found in nearly every room, and she was basking in her dream of dressing up like the royalty in all of her fantasy and romance novels.

The turquoise color of her gown was very flattering, the bodice a bit more low-cut than what she normally wore and tighter than the blouses and sweaters she had at home. The skirt was long and flowing, trailing behind her slightly as she walked, satin slippers barely peeking out from beneath every time she put one foot foreword. Her brown hair had been released from it’s low pony tail, tumbling to her shoulders and framing her face in loose waves, a few strands held back by a diamond barrette she had probably borrowed from Lady Celi, a matching necklace encircling her throat, gleaming in the light of the large room.

Yuuri actually had tears in his eyes as they made it to the end of the isle, smiling at each of them as they smiled up at him, his father and brother looking as proud as he’d ever seen them, and his mother looking so very lovely. She blew a kiss his way as she beamed at him, sitting in her chair with a gracefulness that was befitting of any queen. He blew a kiss back and returned her smile, remembering all the times he’d spent with her during childhood, even thinking fondly back on the days when she used to dress him up in girly clothing, laughing at the memory instead of rolling his eyes.

After coming here, meeting Wolfram, Conrad and the others, and seeing all the complications that were present in their family, he was grateful for the one he’d been born into. He loved his mother, and his father, and his brother, and although this wedding wasn’t something that he really wanted, he was glad that they could be here with him. He didn’t know if he’d have been able to go through with it if they hadn’t. Their presence was encouraging and made everything seem a little less daunting, because even though things were changing, he knew he’d always have them.

“The family of His Majesty’s fiancé,” the priest was speaking again, and Yuuri straightened up, knowing that it was almost time. “The former Demon Queen, Lady Cecilie von Spitzweg; Captain of the Royal Navy, Lord Wolfgang von Bielefeld; Chief of State, Lord Gwendal von Voltaire; Captain of the Royal Infantry (1), Lord Conrart Weller; and the adopted daughter of His Majesty, Princess Greta.”

If he hadn’t been practically dying in anticipation, he probably would have been able to appreciate this moment a bit more. Ever since he’d first come to this world, he’d considered these people his second family. He’d found a maternal figure in Lady Celi, a brother in Conrad, a daughter in Greta, and even a father figure in Gwendal, who was stern and harsh but always there when he needed him. Now they really were becoming a family - a large, somewhat dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. Yuuri found comfort in that thought, thinking of it as one of the few good things this marriage would bring about, a strengthening of the bonds he had with those who were closest to him.

Cecilie looked as spectacular as she always did, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, considering her age. Her black gown was more appropriate for the ceremony than what she usually wore, and she had on just enough jewelry to accent both her dress and her features without seeming gaudy. Some might label her an excessively flashy woman, someone who enjoyed flaunting her assets, but Yuuri didn’t think so. Celi simply knew what looked good on her, and used that to her advantage.

Captain von Bielefeld was to his ex-wife’s left, one of her arms looped with his single one as the two of walked down the isle together, leading the group of five. His navy, black and white uniform was immaculate, just as it had been the day he and his older brother had arrived. Whispers began spreading through the crowd again, but just as Stoffel had when he’d made his way through, Wolfgang ignored them, focusing his attention on the priest and the two double blacks who stood on the platform instead. He showed the king the smallest of smiles as he gave his bow, and Yuuri was happy to know - or at least to believe - that Wolfram’s father accepted and approved of him.

Gwendal didn’t appear any different; he was wearing familiar clothes and had a half-neutral half-pleased look on his face that Yuuri was used to - not an all out smile, but the beginnings of one, which was the most he figured he was ever going to receive from the taller man. He didn’t expect him to ever change, knew he’d probably always remain the serious, grumpy Chief of State he’d first laid eyes on after being thrown off of his horse in front of the palace, but at least he now knew that Gwendal did possess a softer side. The gray-black haired man had helped and supported him more times than he could remember, and had earned the king’s respect and admiration.

It was Conrad who made Yuuri do a double-take, black eyes widening a bit at his guardian’s appearance. He’d expected the man to attend in his khaki colored military uniform, had rarely seen the brown haired soldier in anything else and had often wondered if the man had any other outfits besides that stored in his wardrobe. Apparently he did, surprising the king as he strode in wearing a blue uniform that was a match to his younger brother’s in it’s cerulean color, lined in white with a thin, gold chain crossing from his left shoulder to the right side of his chest, a golden epaulet at each shoulder, black boot covering his feet instead of brown. (2)

Yuuri hardly even recognized him, wouldn’t have if his name hadn’t been announced by the officiator, and if it wasn’t for the warm smile on the brunet’s handsome face, the one that always managed to calm Yuuri down and ease his fears. Although, the young man did cringe when Conrad bowed, disliking it when the man who’d inadvertently named him acted so formally. With everyone else it didn’t really bother him - he’d grown used to it over the years - but he’d never liked it coming from Conrad, perhaps because he felt so close to the other man and had more things in common with him than he did with everyone else. The two of them could relate to one another so easily, thanks to Conrad’s time spent on Earth.

Greta brought up the tail of their little procession, and instead of curtseying to her foster father as she was expected to do before others of such high rank, she quickly dashed up the few steps to throw her arms around him in a tight hug, her lips brushing against his cheek in a soft, loving kiss. When she pulled away, he marveled at her much as his mother had been doing to him when he’d been in the process of getting ready, making note of how much his little girl had grown. They weren’t that far apart in age, but he’d always felt very much like her father, loved her like he would any child he could have created himself.

He watched as she descended from the platform, taking the last empty seat in the whole room, happily positioning herself beside her uncle Conrad at the end of the row. The black dress she was wearing caused her to appear very princess-like indeed. The thin straps holding it up were a little inappropriate for such a young lady, in his opinion (a thought that made him wince as he realized he probably sounded like an old-fashioned, overprotective father), but he supposed it was the desired style for teenaged girls in both worlds. The silky yellow sash around her waste that tied off on her left side went wonderfully with the Beautiful Wolframs that had been strung in her curly brown hair.

“The third son of Lady Cecilie von Spitzweg, the first son of Captain Wolfgang von Bielefeld, nephew of Lords Auberon von Bielefeld and Stoffel von Spitzweg, the younger brother of Lord Gwendal von Voltaire and Captain Conrart Weller, and the fiancé of His Royal Majesty, Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld.”

Yuuri had been so distracted while admiring his adopted daughter that he hadn’t even realized that the moment of Wolfram’s entrance had arrived. He didn’t even hear the first half of the priest’s long-winded introduction, but as soon as his name was called he snapped out of his daze, turning to look towards the other side of the room so quickly he was sure his brain rattled against his skull. The large double doors were being held open by Dakaskos and another guard, allowing the small figure all the way at the other end of the thick carpet to pass through the doorway.

The room feel dead silent. Not a word was spoken by any of those present, not a whisper made it’s way through the crowd, the chamber so still and quiet you could have heard a pin drop if it weren’t for the waterfall. The black haired king didn’t even hear that. The sounds of the orchestra faded away, as did the noise caused by the gushing water. For a moment it was like he was the only person in the grand room, like everyone else had disappeared, leaving him to himself up on that platform. He didn’t see Murata, or Greta, or any of his family and friends, saw nothing but red carpet, stone walls, and two opened doors, ornately carved from a thick, strong wood he didn’t even try to name.

Then there was Wolfram, making his way down the isle at the same slow pace all the others had, and Yuuri felt his mouth fall open when he finally saw him. All thought escaped him as his dark eyes trailed over that familiar, slender form. Oddly enough, when he’d thought his heart would never slow it’s harsh drumming, it suddenly stopped. He stood frozen, unable to turn away. He was captivated, enthralled, and a foreign emotion - one that felt strangely similar to pride and admiration - flared up within him, warming him, and it was suddenly hard to breath for a completely different reason than anxious anticipation.

He didn’t have a word to describe how his best friend looked just then. He’d always known that Wolfram was more attractive that he was - had told him so a few times in the past - and his first thought upon meeting him had been how pretty he’d looked compared to other men and boys he’d seen. If he were a little taller, had longer hair, and a more curvy physique, Wolfram would look exactly like his mother, so it was only natural that people find him pleasing to look at. Today, though, it was as if he’d reached a new level of attractiveness, and Yuuri thought his fiancé was easily the most beautiful person in the room.

He looked flawless, hair neatly brushed and gleaming like a million strands of gold, curling just so to frame his china-doll face. The demon king was happy to see that the other young man was not wearing some ridiculously frilly dress (3), but a uniform very similar to the cerulean one he normally wore, with gold lining and a white cravat, only the material at his throat was lace instead of plain ivory fabric. The most noticeable difference, however, was the color; instead of some shade of blue, his outfit was black - the color of royalty.

Lady Cecilie looked amazing in black, but Yuuri had never stopped to think that her youngest son would look just as appealing in it. His eyes stood out more than they ever had before, large, bright and green, two emeralds set in a soft, pale face. The color of his skin seemed a little lighter against such dark fabric, but that could very well have been caused by nervousness. When Yuuri looked into those big eyes that remained focused on him the whole way up, he could see that the other boy was just as anxious as he was, slender hands shaking ever so slightly by his sides.

Yuuri tried to smile comfortingly at him but failed miserably, and had to swallow down a lump that had formed as his heart beat slowly began to pick up again. He felt as his palms were once again coated with a layer of sweat, which he wiped onto the sides of his pants, eyes still glued to those of his fiancé. A surge of heat spread through him, his blood rushing through his vein as Wolfram come closer, his throat drying up as he continued to look at him.

Was it normal to feel this way? Was it common to have feelings swirling within you that you couldn’t identify, much less ever recall having before? What was going on inside of him, why was he suddenly feeling like this, and what did it all mean? Was it simply surprise at seeing Wolfram looking so wonderful after weeks of not knowing what he was going to wear? Was it adoration at the fact that his friend would willingly put himself through this, despite the amount of emotional turmoil he must surely be going through? Or was it something more, something deeper that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge just yet?

It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Wolfram finally ascended the stone steps that lead up to where the king was standing, when it had only been a matter of minutes. Yuuri was still looking at him as the blond came to a stop right in front of him, the two of them turning so that they were facing one another, unbothered by the crowd that slowly took their seats again at another motion of the priest’s arms. Wolfram’s lips stretched into a small smile as he looked up at the dark haired boy, one that wavered slightly but was still better and more honest that any Yuuri could have been able to force onto his face just then. Still, Yuuri was able to see the uncertainty in his eyes, the doubts he was having as the ceremony went on around them.

The dark haired king snapped back to reality when Wolfram timidly reached out to grab onto his lax hands, holding them with his smaller, paler ones as the old priest began to speak once more, words that Yuuri didn’t really hear and could hardly remember later. It must not had been anything important since his blond friend didn’t seem to be paying much attention either; the man in white was probably just reiterating the reason for such a large gathering and how wonderful an occasion this was for all of them.

He squeezed the hands that were within his own, finally able to plaster a lopsided smile on his face to disguise his insecurities, reminding himself again that he was doing this for the people, and that although that was the only reason he had agreed he still needed to respect the other boy’s feelings. This was a big thing for Wolfram, who began to lose his mask of confidence as the priest continued his speech, and Yuuri didn’t want to be inconsiderate now of all times. The shorter young man already had a few tears in his eyes, ones he was stubbornly holding back, refusing to show such weakness in front of so many people. Yuuri could do nothing to comfort him, knew there wasn’t anything that could make this any easier - for either of them.

“Lord Wolfram,” the priest’s voice broke through both of their thoughts, reminding them that they were not alone, causing Wolfram to stand a bit straighter, though his gaze had yet to stray from that of the king’s. “Do you understand that by marrying His Royal Majesty, you will the given all the powers and responsibilities as a king of Shin Makoku, and that the title of Prince will be bestowed upon you as long as you remain by his side?”

“I do,” Wolfram answered in a voice that belied his true feelings, keeping his doubts well hidden.

“Do you swear to protect him, and to support him in all decisions, as well as to provide him with comfort and guidance when he is in need?”

“I do,” he replied as second time, just as firmly as the first.

“Do you swear to protect our people, to serve them to the best of your abilities, and to dedicate your life to ruling over them kindly and justly, and to follow though with the duties you will hereby accept.”

“I do,” was the repeated answer, though this time around Yuuri could feel his fiancé’s hands trembling .

“Your Majesty,” the old man turned to the raven haired youth, and Yuuri felt his stomach twist, his breaths coming in quick succession as the attention was then turned to him. “Do you understand that by taking this man’s hand you will hereby share the powers and responsibilities that you accepted on the day of your coronation ceremony, and that by going through with this wedding you are reaffirming your solemn oath to protect this country and it’s people?”

“I do,” Yuuri said, inwardly amazed at how easily it came out. Then again, he’d already promised himself to the people once before, so there really wasn’t much of a difference, besides the fact the he wasn’t alone now.

“Do you swear to protect young Lord von Bielefeld, to accept his support, comfort, and guidance, and to rule together to better our country and the lives of others, until the end of your days?”

The youthful king could feel all eyes on him as he paused before answering, opening his mouth to give the short, two word reply, only to shut it a moment later. He swallowed hard, building up the courage he felt slowly slipping from his grasp, holding onto it tightly as he looked at the liquid droplets hanging in the corners of Wolfram’s eyes. It surprised him how two simple words could mean so much, and how difficult it could be just to say them when he’d been preparing himself for this moment for the past four weeks - longer, really, if he took the time to look back over the four years that they had been engaged.

For two people who had started off practically hating one another, they’d experienced a lot together, more than he had with anyone else. The moment they’d first laid eyes on one another with Wolfram scowling down at him from the palace’s front steps came to mind, as did the dinner party later that night, which had resulted in the slap that has since bound them together. Next there was the duel Yuuri had won thanks to a lot of luck and the powers that he hadn’t even known he possessed, and soon after that the blond had started calling him a wimp, the closest thing to a pet name Wolfram would ever use on anybody.

Then Wolfram had snuck on board a ship to be with him, to protect him and keep him away from all he pretty women, even knowing that he would be seasick almost the entire time. Next was the hatching of the bearbees, the adventure that had lead them to Pochi - “It’s ‘Liesel!’” - their meeting and adopting Greta, how Wolfram had used the healing abilities he had to help Hube when Yuuri had wanted to save his life. There was the incident with Elizabeth - when Yuuri had tried unsuccessfully to get ride of him - their travels to Earth, and everything that had occurred when all four of the forbidden boxes had been found.

But the memory that had always stood out the most in Yuuri’s mind was of a time when Conrad had gone, and the young king had felt lost, alone and confused, when he’d had to stand on his own instead of relying on everyone else. Wolfram hadn’t been there in the beginning, but he’d come at a time when Yuuri had needed him the most, needed his love, his friendship, and his understanding more than he ever had before. He’d been in danger of more than just falling; he’d doubted himself, hadn’t known where to go, who to turn to, or what to do to fix everything. Slowly he’d been falling apart, and then Wolfram had grabbed onto his hand and refused to let go.

“Don’t, Wolfram! If something goes wrong, you’ll...” he’d said to the other boy, not wanting to see him hurt, not wanting to be the cause of another needless death, because he’d been so convinced back then that Conrad had truly gone. Losing someone else would have been unbearable.

But Wolfram had smiled at him, a small, sweet smile he rarely showed anyone, and his hand had tightened in both comfort and determination. “Then I’ll fall with you.”

Those five words meant more to Yuuri than the three that normally filled people’s hearts with so much warmth and happiness. He’d always known that his friend would sacrifice himself in order to save him, but he hadn’t thought that Wolfram would be willing to die with him. It was then that he’d realized Wolfram’s true feelings, that the fairer boy didn’t just fight for him because he was obligated to as one of his protectors, but because he wanted to. The engagement had no longer been about honor and pride, but of hope and love. He would have been crazy to doubt Wolfram’s feelings for him after that, and it had been even harder to fool himself into believing that the reason Wolfram cared for him was because they were friends.

Yuuri wondered if he would have been able to do the same thing if their positions had been reversed, and though he was sure he would have at least tried to save his fiancé, the meaning behind it would have been completely different. Standing here as he was now, eyes still locked onto green ones, Yuuri pondered over the situation, realizing for the first time how completely selfless Wolfram had been over the years, allowing him to do as he pleased, and doing nothing to hold him back - besides the occasional jealous fit, but Yuuri could understand his reasoning for that now; the blond had put up with a lot of crap from him, and had rarely complained.

When it had mattered most, Wolfram had been able to do what no one else could. He’d followed Yuuri’s wishes when others would have simply ignored them. He’d gone against his older brother’s orders countless times, stood up to him for Yuuri’s sake rather than his own. He’d taken care of Greta when he could have just as easily slighted her, had named himself one of her fathers when Yuuri hadn’t even taken the time to consult him about adopting her, and had kept the poor girl from feeling lonely and neglected whenever the king wasn’t there. He’d repudiated his engagement with Elizabeth just to be with him, when the dirty blonde haired girl seemed to love him far more than Yuuri could ever possibly show.

And in the end, when Yuuri had had to chose one world over the other without knowing if he would ever be able to make it back, Wolfram had been the one to tell him to go, to return to his parents and his life on Earth, giving him up and denying himself happiness for the sake of Yuuri’s own. “My fiancé wouldn’t be that cruel.”

‘I am cruel,’ the black haired boy thought, still holding onto to Wolfram’s hands, small and pale, slender and delicate, but so strong and so loving. Those hands had saved him countless times, whether they’d been wielding a sword, conjuring up hot flames, or holding onto him for dear life. ‘What have I ever given up for anyone I care about? Conrad was hurt because of me, and... Wolfram could have died. And then he... he didn’t have to give me up. I would have stayed. If he had told me to, I would have stayed.’

A part of him knew that Wolfram had been aware of this, that he could have easily convinced Yuuri that the people in this world needed him more than anyone on Earth did. “What about your responsibility to the kingdom?” he could have said. “What about Greta? Are you just going to leave her without saying goodbye?”

But he hadn’t said anything like that at all. “Go!!” he’d said instead, “Your family is waiting for you,”... and right now, that made all the difference.

“I do,” he finally replied to the priest’s questioning, hoping Wolfram could see the sincerity on his face, could hear it in his voice, wanting to tell him much more than that, more than time would allow. ‘I do care about you, even if I don’t love you the way you want me to . I want to be there for you the way you’ve always been there for me. I want to protect you, too.’

“Please, step foreword,” the older man directed them, leading both boys over to the gushing stream of water. Only when they were in front of it did Yuuri release one of his fiancé’s hands, though he remained holding onto the other as they stood side by side. “Place your hands within the waterfall to seal your pledge to the kingdom,” they were told.

Together the two youths raised their joined extremities, slowly easing them into the cool water the way Yuuri had the evening of his coronation ceremony, only this time he wasn’t suddenly sucked back to his home world. The clear liquid seeped though the dark material of their sleeves, chilling the skin beneath, and Yuuri could feel as a shiver traveled through the smaller body next to him. Wolfram probably hadn’t thought it would be as cold as it was, and hadn’t prepared himself for the sudden chill.

When they pulled their hands away after holding them under the steady rush for a few seconds, their jackets had been dampened and a couple of stray drops dripped down onto the stone floor. The black haired half human looked back to Wolfram then, smiling encouragingly, and received a small smile in return. So far the ceremony hadn’t been as bad as he’d originally thought it would be, and with their promise to the people now sealed, he realized it was finally almost over.

“Your Highness, please bring forth the crown,” the clergyman requested of the sage, who nodded and immediately turned to retrieve the desired object.

It had been set off to the side, cushioned by a small blue pillow atop a waist-high pedestal, waiting for the time in which it would be removed and placed atop a head of golden blond hair. Murata carefully picked it up, holding it as venerably as he had the demon king’s crown, transporting it from it’s original place to where Yuuri and Wolfram had been left standing. He took it to the priest first, who made some sort of strange hand motions over it and mumbled a few words that Yuuri couldn’t quite catch, although he suspected that the old man was blessing it.

Once he was done, Murata turned to face his Earth friend, holding the crown out for him to take. Yuuri did so, releasing both of Wolfram’s hands now as he moved to pick it up, using every ounce of control he had to still his nervous shaking, not wanting to do something stupid and embarrassing like dropping the head ornament.

It was tradition for a new crown to be made for each new king or queen - except for those appointed to the position by Shinou, who would then wear the one Yuuri currently had on. Those who married into the monarchy were given their own, most of which were still kept in the palace treasure vault, though there were a few that had been removed and put on display elsewhere.

Wolfram’s had been specially designed and crafted by one of Shin Makoku’s most renowned jewelers, who’d made it to flatter his fair features. It was small, not nearly as large as the demon kings, and was made up of a few dozen precious gemstones - small diamonds that sparkled brilliantly, beautiful pearls that gave it a decidedly delicate air, and brilliant sapphires that were slightly larger than the rest, glimmering in the light of the setting sun as it filtered in through the tall windows.

Yuuri breathed in deeply as he turned back to face his blond friend, black eyes boring into green again as he took a step closer to him, Murata moving back to stand where he’d been before. The priest positioned himself so that he was behind the royal couple, allowing the audience to have a clear view of the two boys as the king officially gave half of his powers to and named his fiancé the prince of Shin Makoku, completing the ceremony and further binding them together. It was a bit frightening to have so many eyes on him at once, but Yuuri did his best to ignore them, giving all of his attention to the younger looking male in front of him.

“Now, Your Majesty,” the old man in the white robes said, a smile on his well-aged face, “crown your prince.”

‘My prince?’ a voice inside of Yuuri’s head snorted, his hands unconsciously moving so that he was holding the glamorous tiara above the other boy, preparing to lower it. ‘Mine?’ the voice continued to wonder, stalling him, a few long moments passing them by without anything happening. ‘I don’t even deserve him. What have I ever done but hurt him? This was all an accident. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why am I doing this? Why is he doing this? God... what should I do?’

A drop of sweat rolled down the side of his neck under his collar as he stared down at Wolfram, battling with himself internally, knowing this was the last chance for either of them to opt out of the marriage. He knew that although this wasn’t what he wanted, he had to go through with it for the sake of the people; if he backed down now, it would be a betrayal to all those men and women who looked up to and believed in him (not to mention a complete waste of everyone’s time). But Wolfram still had a choice; he could still walk away and not have to worry about any of this, didn’t have to give up his hopes and dreams if he really didn’t want to. There was nothing tying him to this, nothing that could force him to stay.

The blond boy easily noticed his fiancé’s indecision, his large emerald eyes gazing up at the king, searching within black orbs, able to clearly read every single one of his doubts. He knew exactly what Yuuri was thinking, and when the taller male had still yet to go through the motion of crowning him, Wolfram smiled passed the sting of tears in his eyes, shaking his head slightly at Yuuri’s imploring look. He knew what the king was giving him the opportunity to do, but he didn’t take it. He’d already made his decision, and he was intent on seeing it through to the very end.

“I love you,” the paler boy whispered so quietly that Yuuri was probably the only one who could hear him, even in the near complete silence of the room.

The dark eyed king nodded in understanding and without further ado slowly lowered the crown still held between his hands, watching as Wolfram closed his eyes as the elaborate fixture finally rested on top of his blond curls. Yuuri released it then, lowing his appendages back down to his sides. He remained staring at his friend as he’d been doing since the Mazoku boy had walked through the doors, unable to even spare a glance at anyone else. He knew there were all smiling, could even hear his mother sniffling slightly now from the front row, but he didn’t want to witness anyone else’s happiness when he was so conflicted.

Things would have been so much easier if he wasn’t so confused about everything. After all the years he’d spent preaching to others about love - defending the humans and mazoku who engaged in a romantic relationship - he still didn’t even know what love was or what made one kind of love so different from another. How did Wolfram know that he was in love with him? How had Lady Celi’s known that she’d loved her husbands? How had Adalbert and Conrad known that they’d loved Julia? How did Hube and Nicola, and his own parents, know that they loved one another?

Was it okay that he wasn’t in love with the blond haired boy? Could they still make this marriage work and rule together like teammates? Yuuri wasn’t too sure, but if there was one thing he did know it was that he was glad it was Wolfram up here with him right now and not some stranger he’d been forced to marry. At least with Wolfram there was some sort of familiarity; he didn’t feel as awkward around him as he would have around someone else. He’d grown used to the other male and despite the oddness of it all, he felt comfortable with Wolfram, knew that he didn’t have to hide anything or pretend to be someone he wasn’t when he was with him.

Yuuri smiled when he realized that they should have finally come to the end of the ceremony, and it instantly felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. It was done and over with. He wouldn’t have to worry about it ever again, nor would he have to stress over what would become of their engagement. It was settled. No more decisions would have to be made. Now he and Wolfram would be able to go on with their lives as normally as was possible.

He turned to the clergyman, expecting the gray haired man to begin another long-winded speech to end the ceremony with before sending everyone off to the massive ballroom to enjoy themselves at the reception for the remainder of the evening. The priest smiled back at him, but instead of speaking to the audience, he made one more request of the royal couple. “Seal your promises to each other with a kiss.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open and he felt like the air had been forced from his lungs by a swift kick in his gut. Out of all the things a mazoku wedding ceremony could have in common with one on earth, it had to end with a kiss?!

Immediately he turned his gaze to Murata, who’s face had nearly split in half with his amused grin, and the dark haired king was severely tempted to shout at him and throw a wild punch in the sage’s direction for not mentioning something like this beforehand. Looking back towards Wolfram, he found the fairer young man gazing up at him with a straight face, enough evidence for Yuuri to realize that the boy had been expecting it, and that the only one would hadn’t known was the king himself. Obviously someone had failed to inform him, not doubt wary of what his reaction would be.

How the hell else did they expect him to react? He’d be a complete hypocrite if he said two men getting married wasn’t right, as he’d previously stated on several occasions that it shouldn’t matter who or what two people were as long as they were in love with one another, and he supposed it was only right that such a statement was true for couples of the same sex along with interracial couples. That did not mean, however, that he was at all comfortable with kissing his best friend. Hugging was fine, cuddling was something he could easily work on, even holding hands wasn’t very threatening, but kissing?!

All Yuuri could think was how the waterfall behind them suddenly began to look like a nice, convenient way out of here.

He gulped as he continued to stare down at the blond in front of him, black eyes almost bulging out of his head as he tried to think of something to say or do - or not do, depending on what he wanted the outcome to be. It’s not like he had and experience with kissing, besides the occasional peck on the cheek for his mom or Greta, but he had a pretty strong feeling that brushing his lips against Wolfram’s cheek wasn’t what the priest had meant when he’d said “seal your promises.” That meant they had to do it mouth to mouth, right? A real kiss.

“Wolf, I...” he began in a quiet whisper. He knew that everyone in the audience had their eyes glued on them expectantly, which made him more self conscious than he would have been otherwise. From behind him he could hear Murata clearing his throat, his way of urging the other double black on. “I...” he tried again, only to trail off as he failed to think of anything to say.

Wolfram’s reply to his nervous stuttering was to lift both of his pale hands and place one on each side of the king’s face, forcing him to continue looking at him as he moved to stand closer. When Yuuri didn’t lean down to meet him halfway, the blond raised himself up onto his tip-toes, titling his head to the side and pulling Yuuri down somewhat in order to firmly press their lips together.

The black haired half human stood frozen and his eyes remained open as he tried to figure out what he should do about this. Time seemed to stop and his mind went completely blank. His hands began to twitch by his sides and something - some instinct - was urging him to do something with them besides letting them hang there, telling him that there were plenty of other places where they could rest much more comfortably. Unconsciously the two appendages slowly came up, and he didn’t realize that they’d started to move until they brushed up against the sides of Wolfram’s thin waist. It was there that he allowed them to rest, unintentionally keeping the other boy in place.

He was weak in the knees by the time he was actually able to think coherently, and his dark eyes had slid shut before he’d even been aware of it. Part of him told him that he should kiss back, that it was only appropriate since they were making the same pledges to one another, but he pressed back so imperceptivity that he doubted Wolfram even felt it; if he did, then he was most likely well aware of Yuuri’s awkwardness. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but he would have felt a hundred times better about doing this if there weren’t so many pairs of eyes boring in to the both of them.

Although, he had to admit that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d feared it would be. In fact, it was everything he’d always expected a first kiss should be like: warm, sweet, and timid, if not a little clumsy. He supposed it wasn’t much different than kissing a girl (not that he had any experience with that either) except he didn’t have to worry about lipstick or lip-gloss, or any of those other substances females put on their faces. Wolfram’s palms were hot against his tanned skin and his lips were amazingly soft, his slender body fitting as perfectly against him as it had when they’d first embraced a few weeks ago.

He didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to admit it, but deep inside he was a little disappointed when the kiss ended so soon.

The room was still silent when the kiss was over, the orchestra having stopped playing the moment they pulled apart, the sound of the waterfall nothing more than a barely noticeable gush in the background. Yuuri’s eyes slid open after a few seconds, dark orbs staring down at the other boy again, no longer wide with surprise, but blank, as a million thoughts flew through his head at once. Throughout the ceremony he hadn’t felt as if anything were changing between them, but with the kiss that had just taken place he had to admit that there was something… a spark of something different.

With one seemingly casual touch of the lips, he felt as if their whole friendship had changed, and it frightened him like nothing else had before. Wolfram was his friend, more like a brother to him than anything else, and now all of a sudden there was a new dynamic to their whole relationship, one he wasn’t sure he was quite comfortable with. Looking into Wolfram’s vibrant green eyes, he found that he couldn’t have looked away even if he wanted to, too caught up in watching how the light played off of the emerald green, how is caused his hair to shine like a golden halo.

“It is now my esteemed pleasure to present to you,” the priest began after a few seconds, a pleased smile on his face as he stared lovingly at his king and recently crowned prince, “His Majesty, King Yuuri Shibuya, and His Majesty, Prince Wolfram von Bielefeld.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause then, standing from their seats to clap, his mother still sniffling quietly, Greta beaming a smile at both of her fathers. But Yuuri didn’t see them, knew they were there, knew that he and Wolfram were not alone in the room, but his focus and attention rested solely on the boy in front of him. He didn’t even realize that his hands still rested along Wolfram’s waste, or that the blond had wound one of his arms around his neck during their intimate embrace, his other hand still resting against the side of his face.

Yuuri felt empty somehow, in a way that he couldn’t quite explain, and he was more confused by that than he was by anything else. What was going on? Why was he feeling this way? Why had the feeling of dread suddenly intensified within his gut?

What was he supposed to do now?

TBC…

Notes:

(1) I have no idea what Conrad’s real position is in the military. He’s on a horse a lot, so at first I was thinking Cavalry, but then the Cavalry fights on horseback and he usually fights on foot (the only time I remember him fighting while on horseback was the first time we saw him confront Adalbert, all the way back in episode one), so in the end I decided on Infantry. I’m no expert on the military, but I look back at all the movies I’ve seen that take place during the Revolutionary War and Civil War, and all of the commanding officers were usually on horseback anyway, so that’s how I think of Conrad. As always, if I’m wrong, I’ll fix it… eventually.

(2) I loved Conrad in this uniform. I think he was at his hottest in all the flashbacks concerning the war and Julia. The tan uniform just makes him look so plain. He needs some color to brighten himself up.

(3) You have no idea how tempted I was to put him in a dress. I found one in a magazine that he would have looked divine in! But I resisted the urge. I’ll leave the cross-dressing to Yozak, thank you.

A/N: So, there you have it. They’re married, and I managed to squeeze their first kiss in there, too. Go me. Anyway… what’ll happen now?? Will Yuuri finally begin to come around, or will things just grow worse?? And what about the kingdom?? How will it fair with Wolfram as the Prince??

Wait and see…

And remember, reviews are always much appreciated!!