Gunter was certain that he had never been half so miserable in his life as he was the day he had to pack the remaining books from his majesty's 'special lessons.'

"His majesty hates them so, after all," Conrad – the one who had suggested they end the lessons – had said with a smile. "You and Gwendal have no doubt given him a more than sufficient grounding…now that his majesty and Wolfram have reconfirmed their bond, don't you think that the…fine tuning…of his majesty's education in that area should be seen to by his own fiancé?"

Gunter had not thought that the fine tuning of his majesty's education should be seen to by that spoiled brat.

But Gwendal hadn't seen it that way.

The thought caused him to send a resentful look to the mazoku in question. It only made him feel a little better to see the state the eldest prince was now in. Despite all attempts, they had yet to find a way to counteract Anissina's special hair growth formula and every hair on both her and Gwendal's bodies – every last hair – had continued to grow until there was nothing left to see of either of them but hair.

The two must have reminded his majesty of some unfortunate family member, because any time the young king saw either of them he would laugh and refer to them as "cousin It."

"Stop your moaning and your sighing!" the ball of hair seated at the desk snapped. It was impossible to tell for sure whether or not Gwendal was glaring, but it was a safe bet that he probably was.

"Our time together was so short!" Gunter protested, a sob catching in his throat.

"Because you nearly bled yourself to death with your indecent thoughts!"

"Oh! Your majesty!" he wailed. "If only I could have guided you as I'd dreamed - !"

A hair-covered first slammed down hard on the desk, interrupting him and sending papers swaying dangerously. "I said stop that!" Gwendal snarled.

It was so difficult to take him seriously when he looked like that!

"But my particular eccentricities are part of my charm!" Gunter pouted.

Gwendal grunted. One hairy hand reached up to rub at what could be the bridge of his nose.

"Do you have a headache?"

Gwendal growled something intelligible. "In any case," he said at last, "You'll still be teaching his majesty's regular lessons."

"Yes…" Gunter glanced down at the books in his hands and heaved a wistful sigh. "But I was so looking forward to these lessons…"

Gwendal didn't comment. He may have been staring at Gunter – though it was hard to tell. In the silence that followed, they could hear voices arguing out in the hall – the king and his fiancé, on their way to the study for lessons.

"Stop that! Wolfram! I can't walk with you hanging all over me!"

"Then just let me kiss you, damn it!"

"But someone might see!"

"Stop running!"


Two bodies hit the door. It fell open and the two boys came tumbling inside, caught in a most compromising position.

And somehow, even through all that hair, it was obvious that Gwendal was glaring. The two scrambled quickly to their feet and hurried to their chairs.

With a wistful sigh, Gunter set aside the last of the books and resigned himself to a return to boring lessons on history, geography, etiquette, and writing.