Consequences of the Maou\'s Heart

Rated M for foul language, alcohol usage, dark themes, and homosexual sex. If you are not mature enough to deal with these please turn back now.

Chapter 26

The air scarcely stirred in a small stone room lined with a simple dirt floor. A single candle flame wavered weakly, only just providing enough light to see the two rough wooden cots along the walls along with their unmoving occupants. One lay on his side, a simple cloak wrapped around his shoulders awkwardly as windblown black hair lay motionless across his forehead. The other lay flat on his back, his blond hair picking up even the tiniest traces of light and reflecting them back. No sounds came from inside the room, but a myriad of footsteps, voices, and rustling noises echoed from the outside.

Minutes passed slowly and wax pooled lazily about the candle's base. Finally after an eternity neither witnessed nor missed the room's heavy metal door creaked inwards slowly, allowing entrance to a slight young woman swathed in gauzy blue cloth, her modesty held in tact by the multitude of layers. Her hair tucked up neatly under a similarly gauzy head wrap that accentuated her luminous pale skin. Clutched tightly in her hands was a small bowl half filled with water. She stepped lightly, nervously, into the room her eyes darting between the two still figures landing all the more often on the blond.

The bowl was settled gently next to the candle, and with tense motions she pulled wooden spoon from one of the folds of her attire and perched on the edge of the dark haired man's bed. The spoon was dipped in to the bowl and hastily guided to the man's dry lips. Slowly she poured the liquid into his mouth tilting his head so that nothing had the chance to spill out. It took a few moments but eventually his throat worked, swallowing the mouthful. She repeated the motions mechanically several times before standing abruptly and turning to stare, awed at the blond man.

An occasional deep breath raised his chest and parted his pale lips, shaking lightly she treaded over to him. Her hand trembled as reached out to brush a few strands of golden hair away from his face. She drank in the sight of him eagerly, her wide innocent eyes unblinking. Moments passed before she shook her head as though to clear out unneeded thoughts. Delicately she balanced on the edge of his cot, barely touching its wooden frame. Again she dipped her spoon into the waning water in the bowl and brought it to the blond's lips, he swallowed the liquid without any difficulty and she allowed herself a small fleeting smile.

A few more mouthfuls and she lifted the near empty bowl to pour the last bit into his mouth. Yet instead of the placid sleeping face she expected, confused emerald eyes stared up at her. She shrieked and the bowl clattered to the floor as she jumped up.

"Murata", Wolfram asked in a daze as he stared at the woman's wide eyes, wide black eyes. His utterance seemed to upset the woman more and she dashed out of the room, dislodging her head covering and allowing her trailing wave of black hair to follow her out freely. The door slammed shut after she exited and a loud unintelligible ruckus started up outside.

Wolfram blinked into the dimness of the room, trying to figure out what had happened; last he remembered Murata was dragging him away from the sandstorm. That thought prompted him to sit up quickly and peer about the room till his eyes rested on still but breathing figure on the other cot. Once he was sure that Murata was at the very least alive, Wolfram took stock of himself. His clothes remained unchanged but all of his weapons were missing. He flushed with indignation that they had even managed to find the minuscule dagger he'd taken to keeping strapped to his inner thigh after having been disarmed once too often in Yuri's company.

Cursing under his breath Wolfram eased his legs over the side of the cot, annoyed at how stiff he felt. Taking care not to make any loud noises he crept over to Murata's side, casting furtive glances toward the door every so often. Up close, even in the dim light, Murata looked paler than usual and his eyes flicked around rapidly behind his closed eyes. Wolfram placed a hand near Murata's mouth ready to silence the man if he woke up loudly before shaking him gently with the other hand. The motion garnered no response nor did subsequent more violent shaking. Just as Wolfram leaned down to start hissing at Murata to wake up, the door opened with a loud bang.

Two men who could be nothing but guards entered the room. Each wore simple short pants made of a red gauzy material, and metallic bits around their forearms, shins and necks. But what drew Wolfram's attention were the short staves they carried, each toppedwith foot long gleaming black stone blades that matched the darkness of their eyes and hair. Even in the low light the men's muscles stood out in contrast, backing up the deadly promise of their weapons. Wolfram didn't dare fool himself that the situation looked anything but grim, especially once the men started shouting what sounded like orders in some vaguely familiar but incomprehensible language.

"Yua thiri du nut muvi!" The one speaking brandished his weapon as Wolfram stood to face his captors, determined not to die crouched over a cot. The man took a threatening step forward, setting off fight or flight alarm bells in Wolfram's combat trained mind. But before anything could escalate to a fight another voice rang out from the hall.

"Pieci, pieci ot woll du nu guud fur yua tu herm hom," the man speaking turned the corner and Wolfram couldn't help but stare. The man was almost seemed a shadow brought to life. Black cloth covered him head to toe, flowing merrily with each step. The guards stiffened into formal positions never letting their eyes leave Wolfram. For his part Wolfram struggled to think of something that he could use as a weapon, but aside from the rickety table and its candle nothing seemed viable and he highly doubted that the table would even buy him the time to get himself and the sage out of the room. The man in black stepped toward them hands raised so Wolfram got the first glimpse of pale skin under all that black.

"Pliesi ixcasi thi rethir ruagh wilcumi blund froind," the man started to speak but stopped once he realized that his words were not understood. Shaking his head in what seemed to be frustration he gripped the bottom of the veil covering his face and flipped it backwards. Wolfram couldn't contain a small gasp at the man's face. If Gunter had been there he would have extolled the man's resemblance to Yuri, but all Wolfram could see were the differences. The man's face had an open quality about it but instead of Yuri's lingering baby fat his was tone. They had the same eye shape, but were as Yuri's were always open in innocence, indignation, or shock this man's eyes seemed permanently half open and peaceful. The black hair framing his face hung smooth and glossy where as Yuri's coarser mane never quite could manage too look anything but ruffled. Unperturbed by Wolfram's obvious staring the man cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Please excuse the rather rough welcome blond friend; we've been waiting for you… Wolfram."

*****

Conrart stared at Yuri. The words coming out of the boy kings mouth weren't making sense, couldn't be making sense.

No less than three castle guards had come running to him with news of his mother's arrival, an apparent scuffle in the library, and his family storming towards the infirmary. He'd rushed to Gisela's domain unsure of what to expect, but had been shocked to see Gisela talking to Yuri, Celi, Gunter, and Gwendal with tears in her eyes. Gwendal had been pacing agitatedly, while Gunter stared between his lover and daughter with a horrified but awkward look. Celi wept openly next to Yuri, whose face looked as though he'd taken a baseball bat to the stomach.

Conrart looked from person to person pleading silently to know what was going on. Finally Yuri took a huge gulp of air and spoke. He spoke of an incident long ago, a human sorcerer that had attacked Wolfram and the poison the man had managed to force into the blond's lungs before he took his own life. He spoke of Shinou Heika visiting Celi with a dire warning. He spoke of Yuri's own energy keeping Wolfram alive and the current lack there off.

Conrart stared at Yuri. The words coming out of the boy kings mouth weren't making sense, couldn't be making sense. Because if they were that meant his baby brother was out there somewhere dieing.

Conrart didn't remember crossing the room, didn't remember wrapping his hands around Yuri's neck, but he did remember his anger as Yuri's eyes bulged obscenely out of his head.

"Conrad?" Yuri whispered worriedly, his godfather was staring at him vacantly with a murderous gleam about him. With a shake of his head Conrart seemed to come out of his murderous daydream.

"If everything you've said is true," Conrart pause and looked at the others who nodded their heads confirming Yuri's story, "Then he is in a great deal more danger out on his own than we could have imagined." As he finished speaking Gwendal turned angrily on Gisela.

"Why didn't you say anything?! Was it just not worth mentioning?!" his nostrils flared with the force of his breathing.

"What!! No! I couldn't he asked me to make a blood oath, I couldn't say anything unless someone asked me first! We… it's not curable! He didn't want anyone to pity or shun him when he was going to die anyway!" Gisela's voice warbled between anger and pleading.

"Why… surely you noticed when his symptoms went away why didn't he tell us then?" Celi spoke up, her words rough with tears.

"He didn't want to jinx it. It was clear enough that the new Maou didn't want to marry him, he didn't want to make it worse by telling everyone then having Yuri Hieka reject him."

"But for god's sake if I'd know what ending the engagement would do I'd never have done it, why didn't he tell me," Yuri pleaded.

"He…" Gisela shuddered and restrained a sob, "He didn't want you to be stuck in a marriage you didn't want."

"What! What was he thinking, his life means more to me than that. I'd rather have him alive and by my side forever than marry some woman while he…he's dead." Of everyone in the room Gunter was the only one clear headed enough to realize the importance of such a statement. He feared for the country when or if Wolfram passed, a Maou grieving for a lost love was not a pretty idea.

"Papa?" Greta's voice echoed confused from a side room Gisela had placed her in to rest. Immediately Gisela popped up as the others fell silent. She rushed over to the room and began soothing the princess. No one spoke till she returned looking more haggard than when she went in.

"I gave her another sedative, she still needs more sleep and she… she was asking what was going on. I … I don't know what to tell her." The occupants of the room watched her sit and put her face in her hands stifling a few sobs.

"Tell her," Yuri spoke as he stood the steel in his voice drawing all attention to him, "Tell her that her Papa Wolfram is coming back sooner than expected. We are going to find him and bring him back kicking and screaming if necessary. And as soon as I see him I'm going to slap the hell out him till he realizes how important he is to me and everyone here."

*****

Murata knew he was dreaming. There was no other option. He stood atop the hill where he'd first met Shinou, an abandoned book laying in the shade of his favorite tree. His hair was long again and no glasses adorned his face. The scene was familiar and crystal clear in his mind even with the weight of so many lifetimes of memories. At any moment he expected Shinou to stroll up to him and comment on his coloration. But the person who began approaching him wasn't the cocky young man he'd met so long ago. Instead it was a young boy, barely old enough to ride a horse on his own. His hair shone gold in the sun shine and a bright smile graced his delicate features. Confused he called out to the boy.

"You, who are you?" The boy didn't answer but continued climbing the hill. Strangely frustrated Murata waited for the boy to finish the climb while contemplating the weirdness of thinking like Murata Ken even thought he must look like the Great Sage. No matter what he'd never truly thought as one life while being another. Finally the boy reached the top panting lightly with a grin on his face. Murata spoke again.

"Who are you?" The boy's smile drooped into a sour look.

"Gee that's really rude mister." Murata fought the urge to apologize as the boy had intruded on his dream to begin with.

"My rudeness is none of your concern, who are you?"

"Rudeness is everyone's concern mister," the boy shook a small finger at him disapprovingly.

"Fine," Murata sighed a long suffering sigh before continuing in an overly chipper tone, "Oh why hello there nice to meet you."

"See that didn't kill you did it?" The boy's grin returned.

"Quite," Murata spoke dryly, "Now who the hell are you?"

"Me?" the boy pointed at himself cheekily, "I'm you're past, present, and future."

"What? If this wasn't a dream I'd be accusing you of being too young to be drunk enough to come up with a line like that."

"Hey mister, what color are my eyes?" The boy turned his face up to Murata giving him an unobstructed view of his eyes.

"Blu… Gree…I … I don't know," Murata stared dumbfounded at the boy. It wasn't that they boy's eyes changed colors but as soon as Murata tried to speak the color out loud his mind interpreted it as different color.

"Don't worry mister that's normal. Your past, present and future are all vying for your attention. But it's always blonds isn't it?"

"What?"

"I said it's always blonds, the ones who mark big changes for you." The boy picked at his hair distractedly.

"I …"Murata sputtered unable to think of a response that didn't seem stupid or childish.

"You've drawn a hard lot all this time and it's not over yet."

"How can you know all this?" Murata demanded.

"Hello mister past, present and future. Maybe you should sit down you're looking pretty pale." Shaking his head a bit and reminding himself it was a dream, Murata sat on the crooked tree branch he'd always favored.

"Why are you here?"

"Now that's a good question mister." The boy rocked back on his heels.

"Are you going to answer it then?" Irritation leaked out of Murata.

"Where are you sleeping?" The looked out over the horizon, seeming without a care that Murata was wishing less than pleasant things on him.

"What does that… the sandstorm." Murata paused remembering the sensation of sand wrapping around him as he tried to drag Wolfram along.

"It's a big change, a bunch of choices will have to be made and I can't tell you which the right ones are. And you don't even get to make most of them. But I bet you'll do what you've always done. He'll need your help, your guidance." The sky seemed to darken while the boy spoke.

"What's going on?" Murata stared at the boy who was grinning at the coming darkness.

"I've gotta go mister, good luck!" And with that Murata woke up. The first thing he made out was Wolfram's back too him and then a voice speaking.

"We've been waiting for you… Wolfram." The man speaking came into focus and all Murata could manage was a curse.

"Shit."

*****

AN: Phew another chapter done, this was a toughie. I'm really not happy with it but I know you guys have been waiting a while. Big transition chapter hopefully I haven't turned off any readers with the... I suppose you'd call it a twist. Well thoughts?