Honestly? I sorta forgot this story existed. Oops. But hey, I wrote another chapter as soon as I remembered!
Wolfram is beautiful . Almost too beautiful for his own good. It's genetics. Of course his mother passed on beauty to all her children, but it is this beauty combined with the grace and elegant features of the elder Lord von Bielefeld that make the distractingly good looks of Wolfram.
The hair, the face, the eyes—it's a palette of perfection that draws suitors and admirers from miles, all hoping and wishing for the prince's time, even just a glance, in spite of this blonde's infamous explosive temper in the face of unwanted affection. It seems like everyone wants Wolfram ,except the man who already has him.
The Great Sage, Murata Ken, looked out of the grand windows in the Maou's office. Below, in the courtyard, a familiar, regal blonde shook his fist at a row of blue-clad soldiers. As if his anger would affect them. They were, as always, mesmerized by him.
From Murata's vantage point, the sun cast a brilliant glow around the young mazoku.
"Yuuri?" Murata asked casually. The young king, tugging at the stiff collar of his customary black uniform, shifted away from the huge pile of documents on his desk.
"Do you think…" Murata asked, not taking his eyes from the courtyard."…that Wolfram is beautiful?"
"Ah." He could hear Yuuri shifting around, uncomfortable, as he usually was with the subject. "Well, of course. I mean, he is." The king creaked out of his large chair and approached the window. When Murata looked over, the ruler's face was bearing a closed expression as he watched his fiancée. Yuuri licked his lips. "And he just keeps getting more beautiful, doesn't he?"
"He does." Murata agreed. They both watched the prince fluidly conjure a fireball. For a few seconds his frame was almost too bright to see. "And everybody's noticed. They're scrambling over themselves to get his attention."
Yuuri's expression darkened. With time his features had matured, and when his face became shadowed like that he looked more like the Maou of Justice and Anger than ever. "I know." He muttered.
Murata rolled his eyes. "You're lucky he's waited this long, Shibuya. It's been years."
"Yeah." Yuuri looked away.
"If you don't hurry up and claim him for real, someone else will. And you'll have to find yourself another fiancée."
The sage didn't particularly enjoy hurting his friend, but the flinch that crossed Yuuri's face was reassuring in a way. It meant the king wasn't waiting around because he actually didn't like his blonde companion, as he so often insisted in his youth.
Down below, one of the soldiers pointed up to their window, and Wolfram turned to look. It was just too far to see, but Murata imagined he was smiling. Happy to have his king's attention. The prince raised a hand and waved.
Yuuri waved back, a smile creeping across his face. "You're right, Murata. Of course." He pushed the glass pane of the window out and leaned forward to yell "Good morning Wolf!"
Murata stepped away from the window as Wolfram yelled back something along the lines of "What do you think you're doing, wimp?" He hoped Yuuri would really think about what he said, instead of dismissing their conversation as he had every time before. Or someone really was going to snatch Wolfram away from him.
And he couldn't promise that it wouldn't be himself.