Trouble Has Wings

Author's Note: I do not own Kyou Kara Maou. This is just for fun and no profit. Don't take anything seriously, okay?

The sky was light grey, overcast—but without the threat of rain. It made the green grass practically glow underfoot, which went unnoticed by the lone figure whose black boots slammed into the ground with each step.

Gotta make it!

Hard breaths.

Muscles tight.

Slow! I'm too slow.

Elbows pumping hard.

"There's a problem at the old well!" Logan yelled, running up to Wolfram who was in mid stride, heading in the direction of the training grounds where his personal guard was waiting for him in their practice uniforms. They were supposed to be reviewing their flame-throwing techniques using straw dummies and wooden horse mannequins because he had a feeling that the men were slacking off due to the coming summer holidays.

"Eh?" Wolfram turned to Logan Adler, the youngest and the newest member of his guard, with arms resting on his hips impatiently.

Logan gaped at his commanding officer.

The two of them had the same lithe build and handsome, almost boyish, features. However, Wolfram was blond and had piercing green eyes that spoke of strictness and discipline. Logan knew that his own watery blue-grey eyes spoke volumes, too. They said, "Oh, hell! He's mad at me again and this is my second day on the job." The sight of a highly annoyed Wolfram made him want to crawl out of his skin. But what added to the agony was the simple fact that the blond was so drop dead gorgeous most of the time, it made his heart beat quite a bit harder than it ordinarily would under the circumstances. But, the veteran guards had warned him (or maybe "teased him" would be a better way of describing it) over ale the previous night that falling in love with Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld was inevitable. They all did it. And it was fine. Nobody cared—not even their king, who was engaged to him.

Logan was slightly out of breath but managed to utter, "Uh…there seems to be… a problem at the well."

"Where the stable hands get the water for the horses?" Wolfram rolled his eyes in a disbelieving way.

"Yes sir! On my honor!"

Wolfram clicked his tongue at that. "I give you a simple task: Go tell the staff to bring buckets of water out here to put out the fires we are about to set." He leaned forward with the sexiest "I'm mad at you" frown crossing his face. Logan licked his dry lips. He was determined not to let himself unconsciously pucker back at the soft pink lips hovering before him, even if they were frowning and uttering words of complaint. A strand of Logan's mousy brown hair stuck to a corner of his mouth when a sudden gust of wind blew against them.

It tickled. He scratched his face nervously.

"Y-Yess…sir… It's just that I was passing by and then Miss Sangria started shouting for me to go get help and…"

"Wait! What?!" Wolfram's jaw dropped incredulously. He grabbed Logan by the shoulder and turned him back in the direction of the castle. "Come with me, damn it!" They began to run—their feet pounding on grass. Behind them, the other soldiers looked on in confusion. Should they join them or not? Then, floating on the wind, they could hear Wolfram shouting, "…And the next time you report someone in the castle screaming for help, you'd better, damn well, start that sentence off with that little nugget of information, soldier!"

Wolfram's private guards glanced at each other with purpose, and then followed at a dead run.

Long before they got to the old well, Wolfram and Logan could hear Sangria's screams of terror. They were the shrill, lingering kind that could scrape into your soul.

They rounded the corner of the castle and came upon the scene.

Sangria, three stable hands, and a castle guard in full uniform were being stared down by something that appeared to be a tall, shadowy apparition. Small clouds of dark smoke seemed to be floating lazily within its body with a deep, purplish drop shadow under the form which linked it to the quickly withering grass beneath.

"Stay back," Wolfram growled as he shoved Logan away.

The new recruit did as he was commanded. He fought hard to ignore the sore ego that he was now sporting. Being shoved away and treated like a total green horn on his second day sucked royally.

As the blond trudged forward with a hard look in his green eyes, Logan followed dutifully, determined to be of some use to him and to prove himself worthy. He still had another shot at this.

"Sir," Logan said, turning to look in the direction of his comrades, "the others are coming."

"Fine. Until then, I'll deal with this," the blond said, drawing his sword from its sheath with a smooth, metallic sound. Logan did the same.

The shadow cocked its head to one side and looked at the duo. Then, it regarded Wolfram almost thoughtfully, and…laughed. It was a deep, warbled laugh that mocked Wolfram. Something that could easily be mistaken for glowing blue eyes narrowed into horizontal slits with each chuckle. In the meantime, the shadow's initial audience had backed up much further—into the castle wall.

Logan couldn't understand why they didn't just scamper off like scared rabbits…until the sensed the barriers.

"Lord von Bielefeld?"

"Not now," Wolfram grumbled, not taking his eyes off the thing before him.

Logan bit his lower lip and then decided that his commanding officer would be pissed at him anyway. So, just go ahead on with it. "Barriers."

"What?" Wolfram growled.

"Sangria and the others…are being held with a barrier."

"I got it now," Wolfram breathed and started to edge his way more to the left. "Remember your training on dealing with the enemy's barriers?"

"Yes sir!" Logan said with a smile.

The stranger turned back to the little group, hovered over to Sangria and muttered something to her in a deep, growlish tone.

She covered her face with her hands.

"Everyone," Wolfram said loudly to the hostages, "get ready!" He eyed the castle guard, who returned it with a nod. "You know what to do."

They all understood what that meant. And upon the next step, Logan dropped down to one knee and placed both palms on the ground. He shook it hard—creating an earthquake that rattled everything. The shadow looked surprised, lost its concentration and the three stable hands ran to the left when the thin, glass-like barrier broke. Sangria found herself being swept up (and toted away bridal style) by the castle guard. She gripped him hard around the neck as they ran off.

Wolfram faced the hazy figure. The warbling laugh returned. Inside the creature, the lazy clouds began to thicken and spiral inward. It folded and remolded its body into a new shape—a shadow-man.

It can change its form! Wolfram thought and gripped his sword tighter than before.

The blond faced the intruder. Behind him, his personal guards, including Logan on the end, positioned themselves in an arc. There was no way this man, this thing, was going to escape from Blood Pledge Castle.

The man placed his palms together as in prayer, pulled his hands apart and spat a yellow spark into it. Instantly, there was a flame, not unlike that of a campfire, blazing hard and shooting up little wisps of flame.

"Fire wielder!" Wolfram barked at his men without taking his eyes off the stranger.

Immediately, the soldiers put their swords back into their scabbards and began to chant. Most of Wolfram's men were skilled with fire magic. But a few, including Logan, were exceptionally good with earth magic and barriers.

The shadow man pressed the flame between his palms into ball the size of one of Yuuri's baseballs—which made Wolfram worry that he couldn't deal with it. He had a hard enough time with the silly white ones Yuuri tossed around with Conrad. A fire version could cause considerably more damage if he was distracted. Then, he blinked at these thoughts. Why was he so rattled? He could handle fire. He was, after all, a fire wielder himself.

The shadow man laughed at him.

I swear, if I didn't know better, I'd say this guy is in my head.

"What is…?!" Yuuri shouted, coming around the corner with the soldier who had rescued Sangria just minutes before. He had a huge, red lipstick mark on his cheek. Conrad followed, too, as did Gwendal who felt the "shock" of an earth wielder causing trouble near the castle. And, in his opinion, there had better be a damn good explanation for that. Then, he blinked at the stranger. Yes, there probably was a good reason after all.

The shadow-man turned to Yuuri and took a step…but it was a cautious one, almost indecisive. Then, he took a step backwards—once again, trying to make up his mind what to do.

"Look, let's just have everyone calm down," Yuuri said with his hands in the air to appease the crowd.

Wolfram's private guard looked at each other awkwardly. The fire wielders had small fireballs rotating in their hands. Logan and the others had shields up, protecting themselves and their comrades—with the exception of Wolfram, who insisted that he didn't need a barrier and could protect himself.

"We don't need to fight," Yuuri said, approaching the direction of the shadow-man with Conrad by his side looking incredibly worried.

"I think we should stop here, Heika," Conrad murmured quietly.

"That's 'Yuuri.'"

"Of course," Conrad said, feeling very nervous—his eyes glued on the unwanted visitor. He'd never seen such a person before, and hoped that he would never again.

"So, let's not kill…it? Him?" Yuuri turned his eyes over to the figure. "Can you understand me?"

The shadow-man's form was still hovering above the ground with a deep glow under his feet, making the grass seem purple. From head to toe, his body began emitting a pulsing, deep black glow.

The sight made everyone take a step back, and Yuuri, a bit rattled himself, took the silence as a "no." "Well, we have scholars here at the castle. Maybe, just maybe… one of them can understand who you are and what you want."

"Sire," Gwendal said tartly from where he was standing behind Conrad, "you certainly can't expect us to bring a dark specter into the castle?!"

"Ummm…actually, I can…" He put his hand behind his head and laughed a little at himself. "Besides, you said that people think the castle is haunted anyway. So, what's one more?" He laughed unconvincingly.

The dark specter laughed, too. But it was a haughty, menacing laugh that spoke of untapped power and aggression. Conrad put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He narrowed his eyes.

"Yuuri!" Wolfram bellowed in his classic tone. "I can't believe you, wimp!"

"You really should learn to trust, Wolfram," Yuuri said cheerfully. Maybe, if he was cheerful, everyone else would buy into it and relax a bit, too. Well, that's how things were in Japan. "If you give people a chance, you'll be surprised."

The shadow-man watched Wolfram's face. It was angry, flushed, disbelieving… His king, his accidental fiancé, and not so secret crush, had just undermined his authority in front of his men. The blond bit his lower lip in frustration. Yuuri had no understanding of just how much work he'd put into his career, rising up in the ranks the legitimate way—with no special favors from his brothers—and the long nights he'd put in to make it this far to finally get a job where he could train soldiers to be the best, the strongest fighters ever. Wolfram knew that he was more than a commander, he was a mentor.

The shadow-man looked between Wolfram and Yuuri. He turned back to Wolfram and regarded him again.

Wolfram raised his chin a little in defiance. There was no way he would allow himself to be stared down by this strange creature before him.

"Be nice, Wolfram," Yuuri said, copying his mother's famous "play nice" voice that she always used with her sons when they were little.

Yuuri saw Wolfram flash him an injured look.

I suppose I've hurt him again, the double black thought sadly.

Then the shadow-man grabbed Wolfram by the wrist and pulled him in.

How he could move that fast and grab the blond, no body knew. Wolfram screamed and felt his helpless body being dragged into a ring of purple fire. Before he knew it, he was trapped with the shadow-man at the center of it. Wolfram tried to claw the creature away, but there was nothing to hold onto—only a thick, gaseous atmosphere that came back wet and dripping with an ozone smell.

All of the men gasped, and Logan ran forward with a shield up and his sword at the ready in his right hand.

The young man struck the barrier, received an electric shock, and fell to the ground senseless.

"Damn!" Gwendal said, circling around and grabbing Logan by the arm. He understood what the foolish earth wielder had done, sympathized with him, and even admired him—for that was his own element in wielding. But Logan was young and acted without orders. Gwendal, now on his knees and remembering his first aid training from the battlefield, poured healing magic into the soldier.

Looking up, the administrator saw Yuuri. He was approaching the purple barrier with his hair growing long, down to his shoulders. His shoulders were widening, eyes becoming darker with slits for pupils, blue ribbons of energy danced around the handsome frame, and the wind around them was picking up. Thunderclouds gathered in the already grey sky. Lightning flashed.

"Release him," a deep and dramatic voice said among the gale that was now blowing.

"Maou Heika!" Wolfram's private guard all breathed at once. They'd seen this a few times at the castle and were impressed with the sheer power that Yuuri had.

"As the 27th Maou of Shin Makoku, I, Shibuya Yuri, will not tolerate the disruption you have caused this day. You were given the opportunity to come to this place peacefully, which is more than many of our enemies have been granted in the past. And death is not a judgment that I will assign lightly. But I will do it. So, I say it again…heed my words. You will release him unharmed," Maou Heika ordered.

Inside the purple barrier, black bands of energy swirled and ripped at the blue uniform. Wolfram threw his head back and screamed. He could feel himself being torn to pieces. The shadow-man pulled Wolfram's unwilling body against him and seemed to whisper something in his ear. Still in great pain, the blond shook his head to clear it, mind becoming fuzzy. He tried to push the man away only to have himself brought back up against the stranger. More words passed between them. This time, there was something there. Breathing hard, Wolfram was visibly crying but no longer struggling. The shadow-man's left arm held him up and the right hand cradled the head. The blond, whose hair was being blown by the wind, seemed to sob an answer to the shadow-man.

Maou Heika stared back incredulously, his eyes wide and teeth gnashed. "THEN, ACCEPT YOUR DEATH AS MY JUDGMENT!"

"Death?!" the soldiers all gasped at once.

"He's really gonna do it?" someone muttered.

"Heika?!" Conrad said, attempting to stand between the infuriated maou and his baby

brother. "Wolfram's in there…"

"How could anyone…?!" Gwendal agreed from the king's shoulder in a tone aggressive and protective.

But the Maou Heika wasn't looking at either one of them. He was watching Wolfram's face—pale, sobbing, helpless.

The barrier pulsed one last time, like a thin black soap bubble, and broke.

Wolfram's body fell on the grass.

Wolfram's body was now in the infirmary with Gisela holding his hand and gently pouring healing magic into him. She could hear the angry voices and mutterings going on the other side of the door that connected her office to the infirmary. Gisela frowned in frustration.

Not even thirty minutes ago, Conrad had burst into her office with Wolfram's body cradled in his arms like a sleeping child. Then, more people arrived behind him: Gwendal, who had an unconscious guard in his arms, other soldiers from Wolfram's private guard trying to squeeze in the door frame, and, last but not surprisingly least, Yuuri. The noise level quickly reached to an unbelievable pitch—everyone shouting and demanding things at once. It was impossible to sift through it all.

Gisela directed Conrad and Gwendal to enter through a side door so that they could place her patients in the infirmary. Conrad stayed behind with Gwendal turning back, almost immediately, and taking charge of the situation. He barked over the din and stood in front of them in the most imposing manner possible. Even Yuuri took nervous steps as he slipped by and entered the room to be with Wolfram and Conrad.

Luckily, Gwendal made quick work of things. Most of them had cleared off after he gave the word to Wolfram's guard that the whole lot of them didn't need to stand by. But, after acknowledging the pleading looks from the slowly retreating men, Gwendal decided that he would allow two of the guards to remain in the hallway if they wished to volunteer. Every single one of them did. And Gwendal narrowed it down to the two highest ranking officers.

Minutes later, Logan's eyes opened. He turned his head wearily in the direction of Wolfram and Gisela. He watched as his commander's uniform was being removed and the body checked.

The room was empty with the exception of the three of them.

"Where…?" Logan asked, taking a deep breath.

Gisela broke into a wide smile at him. "I knew that you'd just been knocked out. How do you feel?"

The young soldier grumbled and sat up. "Like something that came out of the end of a bear-bee."

Then, his eyes fell on Wolfram's body. The face was beautiful—thick lashes against pale cheeks. The youngest soldier tensed up. "How is he?" Logan asked, his voice cracked a little when he said it which got him a knowing smile from the healer.

Another one is in love with Lord von Bielefeld, hmmm?

But then her smile faltered a little. "I'm keeping him here for examination."

Logan worried his lower lip with his teeth, biting almost too hard. "Then, can I stay?"

"I think you need to go back to your room and rest."

Logan folded his arms against his chest and muttered, "You're asking a sick man to go back to his room."

She shook her head "no" and the green locks floated back against her cheeks. "I'm asking a good and loyal guard to return to his room…" she said sweetly, "before I start yelling and issuing orders." She pulled out her army helmet and plopped it on her head. She narrowed her eyes. The girl meant business.

Logan's eyes were wide at that.

"You wouldn't dare! Lord von Bielefeld is unwell!" he pointed to the opposite bed.

"Care to find out?"

Gisela chuckled at the memory a little. But, now that Logan was gone, the room seemed too quiet and almost lonely. She knew that yelling at the soldier in front of Wolfram would have been perfectly fine because the blond was out cold. He'd wake up when he felt like it.

Mutterings in the office.

Gisela rolled her eyes at that, thankful that she didn't have any other patients today. Right now, inside her office, Gwendal, Yuuri, and Conrad were having a "high volume" discussion of their own. Well, mostly it sounded like Gwendal with Yuuri defending himself and Conrad stepping in when necessary.

More shouts thinly veiled by the wall. Gisela rested her chin in her palm and studied the rectangular room filled with beds. One of the two doors in the infirmary opened to her office. The other opened into the hallway. No matter what Gissela did, she knew that she'd have someone outside the door listening or arguing. At least, she knew better than to create a spectacle that would be "rumor fuel" for the castle. But, at the same time, she wondered why she was the only one with common sense.

The green haired woman tried to close her eyes and focus on what she was doing. Mostly, it was healing the cuts and scrapes all over Wolfram's body so that they wouldn't scar. Using her magic, she couldn't make out any other physical injuries. But, something was definitely wrong with Wolfram. Deep down, she knew it. There was something—some kind of force—that seemed to echo back at her when she applied her magic deeper than skin level. It was more than troubling. It was… No! I will never be afraid of one of my patients, she thought. He needs me! The healer set her jaw and a more determined look came to her face. She'd figure this one out. Maybe, when she was done, she'd consult her father or some of the more advanced medical magic texts for advice.

Through the wall, a muffled voice from her office, "obviously Gwendal"she murmured, shook her from her thoughts. He was shouting, "and exactly what was the Maou Heika going to do to that…that thing…with Wolfram in its grip?!" Yuuri gave back a reply, but it was impossible to make out more than the tone.

Some part of her was glad, though.

She focused again, applied magic, and…there it was again. The feeling. The darkness and a sensation like velvet draped on her.

Gisela gasped and jerked back.

She blinked down at Wolfram.

Knock. Knock.

"Eh?" Gisela said, trying to focus. "S-Sorry?"

Murata Ken, The Great Sage, poked his head in the door. "I heard there was a party going on and wanted to join. So, where's the others?" He gave her a mysterious smile, but his eyes lost their sparkle when he looked at Wolfram. Murata caught himself and forced back on his pleasant mask. Gisela saw none of it, still too rattled from her last healing attempt, and simply motioned a finger at the other door.

Murata skipped through the infirmary, watching Wolfram's face out of the corner of his eye, and opened the door to Gisela's office.

He shut the door behind him.

An hour of much quieter chatting passed and the door to Gisela's office rattled and then opened.

"Can we come in?" Yuuri asked cautiously.

Gisela nodded to him, looking worried with her mouth being a single, thin line. Yuuri glanced at them both, feeling dread creeping in.

Wolfram was wearing a short sleeved, white hospital gown that had a bright sheen to it. He was lying on his back with his porcelain face turned to the right side. His lips were a pale peach, almost colorless, as were his hands with the exception that the fingernails had turned an odd, purplish color.

Yuuri approached and took Wolfram's narrow, callused hand in his. He stroked it softly and looked down at the nails. "What could do…this?"

"I don't have an answer," she said as she glanced over to Conrad, Gwendal, and Murata. They had entered the room, too, and stood quietly. Murata's glasses held a shine to them that blocked any view of his eyes. But Gisela felt that the sage was taking everything in—studying the scene in great detail. Maybe, he could come up with some answers.

"I'm just glad that Mother is off on one of her free love cruises," Gwendal muttered, disguising his worry with anger. His hands were balled into fists at his side.

"I agree," Conrad said with a small nod.

Yuuri looked down at Wolfram's face again. His blond hair had lost its brightness. It was a dirty blond, dull--like a piece of jewelry that needed polish. "What happened to his…?" Yuuri rolled a strand of blond hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"I don't know."

"Why doesn't he wake up?" Yuuri asked.

Gisela shook her head. "I don't know that, either. I healed the cuts. And they weren't that bad to begin with. Other than the fingernails, the rest of him appears fine." She tucked a strand of green hair behind her ear. "But, there is something..."

"What is it?" Conrad asked, concern etching itself back onto his face.

Wolfram took a sharp breath, almost gasping for air.

"Wolfram?!" Yuuri said, holding onto the hand tighter.

The blond figure in the bed shook its head, as though fighting off a bad dream. Then a moan escaped him and he rolled onto his side in a fetal position, facing Yuuri.

"Wolfram?" Conrad said, feeling a bit of relief that his brother was gaining consciousness, even if it was uncomfortable.

The blond's breathing slowed and he collapsed in the bed again with another moan.

"You'll be fine," Yuuri said, brushing blond hair away from Wolfram's face. The face was dampening with sweat.

The double black felt Wolfram letting go of his hand.

Another hard breath.

Using one hand on the mattress, Wolfram forced his body into a sitting position, his eyes closed. He blinked for a second and then placed his hands over his eyes. He took a breath that sounded more like a sob.

"It's okay, Wolfram," Yuuri said, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his fiancé's back in little circles. "We're just glad that you're waking up."

"Hn…" The blond lowered his head almost drunkenly and ran his shaking fingers through his hair.

"It will be fine," Yuuri soothed.

Conrad and Gwendal looked at each other with a bit of relief. Gisela found a small smile coming to her. Murata watched Yuuri stroke Wolfram's back and listened to him utter quiet words of comfort.

Wolfram tilted his head towards the ceiling, let his hands fall into his lap, and opened his eyes—blood red eyes.

Sharp fangs forced their way out of his mouth.

Yuuri felt a hand grasp his throat and press with an unbelievable pressure. He cringed.

"Killing me is no longer an option," he rasped with a deep, otherworldly venom. "Tell that to the spirit inside of you before I squeeze harder."

"Wolf-ram?" Yuuri choked out, onyx eyes watering.

There was a slight hesitation and Wolfram's eyes began to fill with tears. Then, the blond shook his head "no." In that moment, the others made a move to separate them.

Red eyes turned up, burning hot and Wolfram's voice hissed, "Wanna chance it?"

Yuuri, much to his dismay, found himself being pulled into Wolfram's lap. The hospital bed dipped slightly with the weight of the two of them so close together. One hand was still around Yuuri's throat, the other was around his waist. Yuuri felt the warmth and the close contact against his back and wasn't sure if his red face was due to being held closely or being held captive.

Murata left the corner of the room. He didn't seem that surprised anymore. He took three steps forward with all the confidence of a great sage and readjusted the glasses on his face. And, when he spoke, everyone turned. "You can stop looking so terrified," Murata said to Wolfram. "We won't hurt you. We promise."

Wolfram chuckled darkly into Yuuri's shoulder, resting his head there. Yuuri blushed harder.

This was Wolfram…and not Wolfram. His heart was confused.

The blond lifted his head. Red eyes flashed in Yuuri's direction. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Afraid I'll bite you?"

"N-No," Yuuri said with more bravery than he really felt, "I'm just worried about Wolfram." He tried to calm himself down, but he could feel his heart going into overdrive and the rush of blood in his ears.

"Of course," Wolfram said sarcastically, not believing a word of it.

"What our maou is telling you is, in fact, the truth," Murata said as he gave Wolfram a meaningful look. "The person you've possessed… and our king… just happen to be…"

"Engaged," Wolfram interrupted.

"Exactly," Murata said. He smirked a little. This situation was becoming clearer and clearer.

The blond leaned his chin on Yuuri's shoulder and felt a shiver coming from him. It didn't matter, though. "I don't acknowledge the engagement."

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Murata, gaped.

"And, since your maou doesn't, either…" Wolfram's voice trailed off.

A puff of warm air tickled Yuuri's neck. He shivered again.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you believe or disbelieve," Gwendal huffed. He was getting tired of this pretty quickly.

"Well, you should," the red-eyed Wolfram said and allowed one fang to hang out of his mouth. He stroked Yuuri's chest with his hand—purple nails glistening slightly. "You are…" Then he thought about it. "I believe you are Wolfram's brother…are you not?"

Gwendal clamped his mouth shut and felt a desperate need to knit something cute and adorable for Greta.

"Your name is Gwendal, and, when you were very young, you promised Wolfram that you would make sure he was happy…always."

Gwendal folded his arms against his chest defensively.

"So, what happened?" Wolfram's face made a strange smile—slightly angry but, at the same time, tinged with mirth. For a brief second, it didn't even look like Wolfram at all. Then, his face relaxed into something recognizable. "How could you allow Wolfram to be engaged to…this?" The double black found himself shaken like a rag doll.

Wolfram's head swiveled a little and looked at Conrad. "You are called…'Little Big Brother.' Isn't that right?"

Conrad's jaw dropped. He felt himself give a slight nod.

"Well, that's what Wolfram's heart calls you…" There was an awkward shrug that followed, as the eyes seemed to be searching—remembering—the way a student would while taking a final exam. "But he's been fighting and bickering with you, all one sided…which is strange…for decades now." With a slight shake of a blond head he added, "Wolfram doesn't know how to stop."

Yuuri made a slight wiggle to get more comfortable. And Wolfram's leg shifted just enough so that it wasn't possible.

"Wuss" was floated in his ear.

"That's 'wimp,'" Yuuri corrected, before he realized what he was saying and he cringed.

The blond head turned back to Conrad. "You're in such a bad position," Wolfram's voice said vaguely, losing a great deal of its animalistic rumblings and undertones. It almost sounded normal, with the exception of a growling inhale that would come to him. "You're caught between your monarch and your brother…" Red eyes looked at Conrad dimly. "I don't envy you."

He turned to the green haired woman. "Wolfram knows you as Gisela…the healer…" Wolfram's mouth formed a slight smile at that. "Thank you for healing us."

She nodded back.

"You knew something was different…inside Wolfram…and you didn't try to hurt me." A small fang poked out. "I appreciate it."

Murata straightened up a little and walked a few more paces with his hands behind his back towards the bed. "What we'd appreciate is you releasing our maou from your grip and leaving this body…as soon as possible."

A typical Wolfram snort was the answer to that followed by the words "make me."