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At times like this, Wolfram felt so lucky to have his fiancé close to him like this.
In his arms, warm, safe.
As safe as he could be.
He'd... done it again.
The boy with pretty, dark hair and eyes the sacred colour of true Mazoku blood had run rampant and clumsy with his damned magic once more.
His endless tie of influence to Shin Makoku's life blood.
Yuri made a sound. Something soft and... Open.
Open in how pained he was.
Wolfram had found, in the days, months, almost years, of knowing this boy, his fated, his one,
That Yuri was open.
Open in his heart and his love and dedication to all that did and did not concern him.
Wolfram huffed, back pressing into an unfamiliar headboard of a vessel that sailed onwards.
Sailed on towards demon country.
Their country.
Relief filled his chest at the thought of it.
Yuri's...
"-Hn..."
Yuri shifted, his body curling and pale prone fingers pressing into Wolfram's regalia.
Wolfram hadn't undressed yet, couldn't risk waking the boy that kept using all of himself to protect all of them.
More than them.
Wolfram sighed, frustrated and... Solemn.
He wondered when his heart had become such a full and forlorn thing. Wondered when the sight of someone so pretty and sacred committing acts so stupid and reckless and...
Kind.
Ceaselessly, endlessly, kind.
Had him feeling so...
'the sun' Conrart had once called him. Had murmured Yuri's likeness to be.
A being bright and endless in light.
In hope.
Wolfram huffed, such a comparison was hardly fit for the dark might of the Demon King but...
Well,
It was fit for the wonder of... Him.
Of Yuri.
Their majesty.
His...
Yuri murmured something, his sleep disturbed as he turned, dark head of hair pressing into Wolfram's chin as the boy leant his forehead into the crux of Wolfram's throat.
Wolfram swallowed, his grip shifting and his arms tightening around the one.
His...
Beyond the wooden beams of an all too rocking boat, Wolfram heard the shift and rise and fall of endless ocean waves crashing against the ship.
The world creaked around them and in the dark, Yuri's visage was painted in candlelight.
It... Made him warm. His skin, though pale with fatigue, yellowed in fire light.
Golden.
Wolfram hummed, his heart aching as Yuri's expression faltered to something discomforted.
Afraid.
His dreams disturbed and aching.
Perhaps it was a foolish sentimentality but... Wolfram thought he could detect the ache of Yuri's magic in his own bones too.
The dire strain to which their Demon King had, once again, fought for a land not under his rule.
Not under his prerogative to protect and yet-
And yet he would sooner fall to death than not save those innocent under threat.
No matter which innocents they may be.
Human country.
Human people.
Lives that... Wolfram had once seen little worth in at all.
His mind flashed to a human daughter that two demon hearts ceaselessly loved and he cast such prior reflections away.
Oh, how differently he thought now.
Groaning, Yuri murmured again, and upon catching his name on the Demon King's lips, Wolfram couldn't help his slight, aching tilt of lips.
The faintest smile.
"...Wolf..."
Wolfram sighed.
He was no fool.
Afterall, Yuri was... Strange.
Living in another world bound to make his fated heart... Odd in many cultured aspects and ways but...
He was also the one.
Their one.
Well and truly.
And Wolfram could not- could no longer- deny the good, the intrinsic, instinctive everything that Yuri poured into their lands.
What he was.
The perfect Mazoku with which to follow.
When- his heart burned- when Yuri had left Shin Makoku- when Wolfram had thought that the connection between their worlds would be forever lost.
Their last meeting...
When Wolfram, aching and frail, demanded he go but wept for him to stay...
Begged it...
He'd never felt more inwardly broken and more mercifully saved,
Than when, after many, many, too many moons,
Yuri had come back to them.
Back to...
Him.
Uncle may not have seen it at first.
As nor had Gwendal in the beginning, nor Adalbert upon first foolish encounter, nor,
...him. All that time ago.
But... Yuri was meant for this world.
And all who basked in his light could see that, could feel it.
Could know that.
His kindness... It was like...
Healing.
A balm that spread across the land.
So like the healing magic of the soul of him before.
From the gentle might of Julia.
Wolfram saw the change Yuri had made in all those closest to him and...
All those far.
And he felt the change that Yuri had made in him most potently of all.
He made them all better. Had made them all more than the divided, the angry, the lost, that they had been.
He... Brought them together.
His brothers, the castle, the kingdom and...
The humans.
In all their various cultures and customs and,
Kindness.
"Pft..."
Wolfram shook his head. Shook it and allowed his chin to rest within the dark locks he so coveted.
What once burned in his heart now began to sing.
An aching, knowing song.
I love him.
Wolfram almost startled, the thought so very true. So very open.
So very unlike-
He... Had Yuri made him like that?
Like this.
Like all the others...
Perhaps Wolfram had changed the most.
Perhaps Wolfram had changed for the best.
His lips grazed black strands, and he inhaled.
Makoku magic sung in the air, it's power strained and dormant but,
Bountiful.
Beautiful.
Supported and grown by the very lands that held them.
From sacred demon soil to the soul of their Demon King.
To the heart of Wolfram's-
He curled in on himself, pressing Yuri close.
The boy murmured again and Wolfram felt the warmth of his words pressed into his neck, his skin awash with a molten heat.
He smiled, something rueful.
Was...
Was that all it took?
To fix the world... It's scattered edges, its anger and betrayal and bloodshed.
Kindness?
Yuri?
Their strange and foolish Demon King who trusted in the face of the betrayal and the anger and the bloodshed.
Yuri took a breath, shakier than his previous and Wolfram tilted his own, one hand, that had been curled around Yuri's shoulders, shifting to smooth down his cotton clad chest.
The heart of the Demon King beat wearily beneath his fingers and Wolfram sent a silent prayer that they would reach the borders of their territory soon.
Let it be, Great One.
Please...
Reach the lines of the land that loved Yuri just as much as it's people.
And they did.
They loved him.
Adored him.
Their sweet new sun.
One couldn't walk a single street of the centre kingdom without hearing of the antics, the tales, the kindness of their young and happy ruler.
The double black beauty of-
"-mn... W... Wolf... ram...?"
Wolfram stirred, blinking his eyes from where his focus had begun to wander upon the precipice of dreams himself and he hummed, quiet, the boy in his arms growing restless.
Wolfram swallowed, straightened his back and watched quiet and ardent as Yuri roused from the deep sleep he'd fallen under.
His power so very drained...
Black eyes blinked, before a head of ebony hair was tilting backwards and suddenly dark eyes were staring vaguely into Wolfram's own.
Green into black.
Wolfram held the stare, lips parting before knowing what to speak; his tongue worked on instinct,
"...good evening,
...wimp."
Yuri stiffened and Wolfram smirked, something fond and familiar melting his heart when Yuri- Demon King, all powerful reincarnation of one of their greatest magic users- frowned, whined, lips a pouting sulk and- how much more could Wolfram love this man?
"Don't... Call me... That..."
Wolfram smiled, expression something softer as Yuri's head leant heavily to Wolfram's chest and... he gazed slowly about their quarters, his eyes vacant.
Wolfram's hold grew a little tighter, a distant pressure behind his eyes aching, threatening to break.
His lips pressed hard together.
So very reckless... Their King...
Yuri opened his mouth to speak again but before he could form any words his chest rattled with a harsh and wet cough.
The sound hurt and stung upon the air.
Wolfram murmured his name and held him tighter when Yuri turned his face to press it into him with a groan, his body wracking with the slightest tremble.
Oh, Yuri...
Wolfram felt the pulse of Yuri's magic sing quiet and weary about him and Wolfram found his words pressing to a too warm forehead when Yuri turned his expression to look solemnly up at him again.
"You saved them,
Yuri..."
Wolfram spoke, quiet, careful but imploring because he had to- Yuri had to know,
"You... Saved them all."
Yuri stared, black distant eyes, for a moment, sharper, a deeper understanding taking root in their depths and opening Wolfram to the truth of him, before those eyes scrunched suddenly shut and tensing, another coughing fit ran through him again.
"Ngh... Ack-!"
Wolfram held him, ignored the hurt sting of Yuri's magic reaching out for the ever approaching familiar of Mazoku soil and- hand guiding that expression up to his, gentler still- murmured,
"You did good, Yuri... Good," he swallowed, somehow irked by the growing enamour in the boy's eyes and bringing him back down to him muttered, darkly,
"But stupid."
Yuri cleared his throat, his voice notably hoarse and weak but no less a challenge- always a challenge for Wolfram-
"-there's... Nothing stupid about saving a life."
Wolfram shook his head, green eyes frowning,
"There is when it's at the expense of your own,
Idiot."
Yuri stared, eyes hard before a wash of pain fogged his features and his frown became a grimace.
And yet... And yet, the boy- their Majesty, his King- shook his head, his voice tight and determined,
Forever determined,
"I will not let the innocents of this world die."
An echo hit the air,
And the vestiges of the deep eternal darkness of the Maou flickered beneath Yuri's light, pupils momentarily the black pin-pricks of royal Mazoku blood and Wolfram exhaled when those eyes blinked slowly again,
And the boy returned back to him.
He looked tired. Tired and apologetic and...
"...Wolfram."
He hummed, listening, green eyes not leaving the King that would so easily cast himself to a life of turmoil to save those that could not do so without him.
"Yes... Yuri."
The boy stared, dark eyes so very large, so very deep and black and night and all.
Everything...
Yuri shifted, discomforted, fingers curling into the blue fabric at Wolfram's chest as he tried to pull himself upwards.
Up... To him.
Wolfram blinked, the... Question on his mind,
Yes... Yuri?
What is it that you need...
That you...
Want...
What... Do you wish for...
From this world?
From...
Me.
Perhaps... There was more to this foolish King that was his betrothed because by the time he'd shifted up to him, expression aligned with Wolfram's, by the time Wolfram's eyes had left those eyes to linger on the soft of his parting lips,
Yuri was already smiling, was already speaking into him, the words that Wolfram couldn't comprehend hearing.
"Thank you..." Yuri whispered, a hum in his throat and a wheeze in his chest that suggested he were fighting down another fit of pain.
Wolfram's arms tightened upon him further, his fingers sinking into the soft of Yuri's slender sides, his sweeter frame.
So similar to his own but... So much gentler, so much more innocent. Not at all marred by the metal of sword or the savage of bloodshed or the ever scars and reaction of battle.
Yuri's warmth ached at his skin, at his feel and the world felt oh so golden even as the ship's rocking caused the fire light to falter, when his royal lap settled upon Wolfram's and caused him to flush.
Warm breath ghosted Wolfram's exhale and if his heart filled any longer it surely would burst.
It's thudding seemed discordant with the tumultuous, creaking of the ship.
Waters riling.
Yuri...
He thought... when Yuri's chest grazed his, warmth at his centre, that he could feel the joined race of their hearts beating.
Together.
As one.
Mazoku and Human-Mazoku.
Boy and Demon King.
Betrothed and-
"-Beloved."
Wolfram had spoke, his heart too caught up for his head to fight any semblance of flush or self-conscious or stuttering but-
Yuri spoke too.
In that moment, in... Unison.
The same...
Those black eyes crinkled at the edges when they did, realisation dawning in too deep, too wonderful eyes.
Wolfram's breath faltered and his hands held oh so carefully around Yuri's soft edges, his pretty curves, as the boy ducked, smile soft but exasperated as he worked through another wracking cough away from him.
When he emerged, breathless and flush with potential fever, Wolfram froze, wondered if the admission were simply that.
Fever.
Untrue.
Delirium.
Was... Wolfram delirious?
But then-
Then why-
Yuri spoke, his breath once again soft despite it's wheeze and- Wolfram should really have him checked over, should really call in the others, to inform his brothers, Gunter that their King had awoken, returned to them but-
The King's nose brushed his, and Yuri's eyes held no haze when they gazed into him then.
Sharp, fated,
Clear, crystal as the waters he so beautifully curled into wisps and leviathans.
Black, soft strands brushed the blond at Wolfram's forehead and he swallowed, lips parting as Yuri's smile took any remaining breath he had away.
His eyes all he could see.
"Thank you, Wolfram... For always saving me."
Wolfram stuttered, words quiet and unforming,
"Ah- I... You... It's not like..."
It's...
It is like...
Black eyes stared wide before lidding, that smile growing fond, private, knowing.
Wolfram shut his lips, frowned, then started again,
The path strangely clear to him then because,
"I love you."
Yuri's smirk fell to something frozen and Wolfram's heart dropped and seized when Yuri's hands, still gripping into the fabric at his chest smoothed their fingers down to his heart and with a wheezing, aching breath Yuri, in his haste, in his glee, in his hazy, clear eyed ecstasy and- laughing, Yuri was laughing-
Bumped their foreheads together, before, gently, his hand rose, one at his heart and the other... Wolfram feeling the tremble of weak and vulnerable fingertips as a palm pressed into his cheek and his thumb grazed soft at the skin beneath green staring irises.
The hold left a feeling like Mazoku starlight in its wake.
Like the soft of their domain's sweet garden flowers or the hum of the wind atop Weller's hill.
Something precious and ceaseless and beautiful, when in that creaking, shifting boat, upon shores blackened by the night, the Demon King, Mazoku, his fated,
His
Yuri,
Pressed his smiling lips to Wolfram's own and eased in him to do the same.
Warmth.
Like an ignited spark, like a flicker in the darkness- like the fire Wolfram so danced with- the dark, perfect night of his King had Wolfram blinded as only the sun could cast and he felt his eyes slip shut, watched Yuri's echo in same as warmth melded into union and breaths mingled into intertwining night.
When... After waves rocked lighter and the dark-haired wonder lay breathless and clinging to him.
When those deep black eyes were flickering, lingeringly on a deep, fatigued need for sleep.
Wolfram lulled him closer to it, the feathered carve of his fingers running through deep, dark strands and thought to how sacred it would be...
How sacred it was, to have the boy who shone so brightly, kiss away the darkness in his heart and fill it with the beautiful black, ebony ache of his own.
Yuri slept, exhausted by touch and truth and his foolish, reckless heart and Wolfram bent forwards, lips reaching the boy's head which lay prone and warm in his lap.
Forever warm with him.
"Goodnight...
Beloved."
Yuri hummed, and Wolfram watched, eyes lingering themselves as Yuri's head turned into him, the pretty sharp of his nose pressing into the soft of Wolfram's thigh and sending fever down the skin as he murmured, that smile ever felt through the words of him,
Despite it all.
"Goodnight... My Wolfram..."
Wolfram stilled, frozen,
And he felt his head bow ever deep.
Deeper than he'd ever beholden.
My King.
Even... when the night settled to day and even when candles burned to wicks and the world bustled once more, burst in colours anew, Wolfram did not forget the whole and ever warmth of those words.
And when the next day, not yet ready to be on his feet but insisting so otherwise, Yuri took Wolfram by the hand and lead him to view the upper decks, gazing out upon the world and kept it there.
Kept palm to his, Mazoku flesh to strange, Demon King, fragile fingers,
When he felt Conrart's eyes on them, fond and freed, the wise man's gaze on their touch and Yuri's close mouthed grin in spite of it.
When Gunter fussed then startled at the sight of their Demon King leaning aching and tired but laughing into Wolfram's stiff and bemused side,
His throat still wheezing,
His magic still aching,
Wolfram could not ever say,
That he had felt any a greater, more well fated love than he.
Than Yuri.
Wolfram's fingers threaded deeper with him, his eyes caught on the dark of black hair and eyes in the morning sun and he grew awed when he found Yuri staring back at him as though he were the one to be watched in it.
That ever glow that he cast.
That wheezing laugh turning back to its quiet smile.
A pulse of something deep and endless and warm gathered in Wolfram's chest and he watched Yuri raise a hand to his own, as though sensing the feeling.
The wind picked up, a great gull cried out above and Wolfram near missed Yuri's parting lips, his precious words, muttered as though in a trance, as though passed on by another and brought to fruition by them but,
"Fated."
Was one of those words,
"Fated to you."
And with his smile, and Wolfram's fond return of it, he realised perhaps that he were not so different from the foolish Demon King.
The foolish, chosen, true.
Who put love before all other things.
Oh, he could hear mother laughing now...
The world may have Yuri, may have his power and protection and ceaseless kindness but, Wolfram, despite all their bickering, endless aching devotion and darkness and doubt,
Had his heart.
And he'd sooner bask in moonlight then turn his back to that sun,
Would sooner be cursed to all the worst the world could give if Wolfram did not grant Yuri his in return.
My Yuri...
When finally, after the rocking waves, the salt air sting, the rigourous journeyed and horseback travel and ceaseless need to have the King rest- rest damn you, silly fool-
Wolfram, for a moment- that felt both old and eternally renewed- felt the honest, ceaselessly ancient magic of Blood Pledge Castle as his booted feet finally crossed its threshold and feeling it's presence crawl up his skin and trace his bones and head and heart couldn't help but feel, now and truly,
In all it's merciful grace,
That he were now deserving of it.
His eyes flickered to a black stallion that walked beside his snow-haired own.
His ears caught the chanting rise of voices cheering, calling beckoning, welcoming,
Above, beside, all around,
Welcome home.
Our Lords,
Our Majesty!!
His heart caught the look, the overjoyed smile that Yuri sent his people before directing it back his way.
Wolfram beheld him,
Then smiled back, green eyes alight with him.
And he knew.
He felt it and he knew,
That he were now deserving of him.