Disclaimer: No, no, Kyou Kara Maou still doesn't belong to me. I'm not getting any money for this and I want Wolfram in a dress; a real one. Fanart please? X3

A/N: It lives! It's not dead! It's just terribly OOC at the moment and Yozzak is seriously, seriously learning how to annoy masterfully from Kakashi. I had a brilliant idea though; how about writing a sweet little YozzakxConrad fic sometime? Hrm. A one-shot. Or a series. Where Conrad is uke just to spite his perfectness…. –insert major squee-age here-. Well, I tried. (Has anyone read that wonderful web comic?) Here be the third chapter and I'm hoping it's good :D! –goes to run to make a ShiniNana lemon now for her mistress— I seriously need to edit this more…

I want reviews ;-;

And much thanks to KittyBlue, r.mai, RoninsOath, siberian-emerald, CharmedReality, Anime Writer2, Joan Mistress of Magic, Kymaera, hyperactivatoragain, sharp23, Cyndi1 for taking the time to review! Squee! Reviews make me happy – and I've been working on editing. I hope it's getting better… As for the Yuuri-angst? Well, I have some in mind though the fic has seriously left my original idea for it. It was supposed to be a lot more darker and mind-screwy but… Woflram and Yozzak wouldn't let me go evil-to-the-maxwith Yuuri… Ah well… there will be other chances…

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Now or Never
A Rift Between Brothers

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Heavy footsteps echoed across the castle's empty halls, followed by the sound of shuffling clothes and a dull thud. There was a brief moment of silence followed by a small cry as Gwendal forcefully shoved his younger half-brother against the wall. Conrad's sword fell to the ground with a loud clatter as he slowly slid down towards floor. The walls watched on in muted curiosity and the shadows whispered amongst themselves eagerly. Gwendal roughly picked him up by his dusty brown collar and pinned him forcibly against the wall.

"I'd expected so much more from you," Gwendal ground out, disgust marring his features barely visible in the dark. Conrad hung his head and said nothing. Gwendal watched, waiting for any form of response. He decided he would be getting none and pushed Conrad harder against the wall.

Crickets chirped and the shadows edged closer.

"I didn't say anything then," the Earth Elemental's voice was grim, laced with guilt. The implication behind his words was sorely unmistakable. Still, Conrad said nothing.

"Julia knew her place." Gwendal paused and took a deep breath. "You knew your place. And I'm sure you know where you stand now but one thing is sorely different." He shook the brunette half-demon by the shoulder and his raised his voice as he spoke, underlining his words with urgency.

"Yuuri is no Julia."

There was silence as the words sank down; at least Gwendal hoped Conrad was digesting what he had just said. He relinquished his hold on the brunette and stepped back, his boots thudding loudly against the stone floor.

"He doesn't know what to do in this…" he paused and frowned, searching for the right word to describe the situation, "this game you played with Julia and unless you—" he subjected Conrad to a pointed, accusing glare, "—make your position clear he will give himself to you."

"Yuuri holds Wolfram dear to him, Gwendal." Conrad said suddenly, his voice dipping into a dangerous tone at the mention of his half-brother's name. He met the Earth Elemental's stare with calm, yet equally imposing, brown eyes. Unlike Wolfram, Conrad addressed his older half-brother by his name, or rank if duty calls it, never an honorific to denote their familial status. Though they had the same mother, he was part human and for this they did not acknowledge him as family. Gwendal merely closed his eyes and folded his arms. His eyebrows met as he frowned deeply, lines marring his face.

"He may do so and then may feel more, Conrad, but he trusts your judgment too much to see that on his own." Gwendal said under his breath. Conrad smiled and Gwendal easily read the sarcasm behind his half-brother's carefully narrowed eyes.

"And you mean for me to relinquish my influence on him? Gwendal?"

"I mean for you to stop acting like you're being victimized always!" Gwendal yelled angrily and the ground beneath them seemed to grumble and shake for a few short moments. He stopped and took a deep, calming breath. He knew it would do no good to argue in blind rage.

Conrad stared at him, seemingly unfazed. Gwendal, however, was adept at this kind of warfare. This was his battleground when he was not out there leading his soldiers into battle. He knew a chink in someone's armor, a weakness, when he saw one.

And he saw that wariness within Conrad's brown eyes, the undeniable guilt that was so small yet there. Gwendal had his opening. Conrad's poker face was not perfect.

"Conrad," Gwendal said quietly, careful to keep his voice level as he turned his gaze away from the half-demon. "Julia loved you," It was a truth Gwendal could not deny, even if it meant admitting his brother had the short end of the stick, "But she knew her place, Conrad. Knew her duty. She decided she couldn't return your feelings – couldn't, Conrad. Couldn't, even if she loved you. And whatever platonic love she held for you stayed that way." Gwendal pressed his lips together in disdain. "And as is apparent, her soul retains some of those feelings but Conrad…" Gwendal took a deep breath and sighed heavily, "know your place."

"And you can honestly say you are not overstepping your boundaries by intervening in this, Gwendal ?" Conrad said in a quiet voice, "Wolfram…" he paused and seemed to frown, "would not like you threatening people to give him what he wants." His voice was quiet, tinged with a hint of thoughtfulness, and he stopped and looked Gwendal in the eye, his gaze cold and hard, almost predatory. The look confused Gwendal momentarily, as if he was suddenly transported into the past, back to those war-plagued years. Those eyes belonged to those who fought in that war and survived on the brink of death, mentally and emotionally scarred with wounds that may never heal.

"You know Wolfram better than that." Conrad's eyes narrowed and then he bowed his head down in silence and stepped away from Gwendal, heading towards one end of the hallway and away from his half-brother in silence.

Gwendal frowned and watched his half-brother walk away until his eyes could no longer follow him in the shadows. To say he and his half-human brother got along well would be to flat out lie and mayhap he was being unfair. But he knew who mattered more to him and it most definitely was not Conrad.

"Julia loved Adelbert." The words were intended for Conrad. "But she loved you more, even if it was never romantically." Gwendal admitted and wondered if Conrad ever knew that. One thing was sure, however, Yuuri was too young yet to determine the difference between platonic and romantic love.

And what was he doing interfering? Conrad's words came back to him with a vengeance and he merely closed his eyes in acknowledgement. It was a difficult situation but his brother's heart was at stake here.

He took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. Then he turned around and glanced back at the direction Conrad disappeared into before shaking his head disapprovingly.

Whatever the Shin'nou had in mind by letting the Maou unwittingly stick into a long engagement neither of the ones involved were particularly keen on, he hoped it would at least end in peaceful terms. Julia's demise led to the kingdom gaining yet another enemy with a grudge, he did not want that to happen to Wolfram. Not ever. Scorned fiancé, or not.

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Kuchen was a relatively peaceful small town with a population that barely reached a thousand and small houses and buildings made of wood and stone clumped together, forming a very tight-knit chain of residential and business units. Its denizens looked particularly peaceful, buzzing about in the early morning passing 'Good Mornings' and greetings while carrying about their early-morning duties. Wolfram thought it was odd that the actual town would look much different than the picture the reports delivered on Gwendal's desk painted. As it was, he could frame the image before him and pass it off as the picture of a town gleaning and thriving under its rulers' dedication. Then again, he knew as a seasoned solder – and he was one – he shouldn't take things at face value.

"Over here," he heard Yozzak say from beside him in a strange, womanly voice. It was passable, but it made Wolfram shudder involuntarily. Yozzak was more utterly amused by his involuntary reaction than hurt though and the older half-mazoku winked at him before linking their arms together and leading him to an Inn.

Once inside, Yozzak wasted no time with his act and immediately made his way to the reception to book a room for a 'travelling mother and daughter', all along eagerly spilling details of their non-existent domestic life like any plump, middle-aged widow would at any given chance. Wolfram had to grin, seeing the strain and apparent discomfort of the middle-aged innkeeper at the reception and silently gave Yozzak his complete and uttermost approval.

"Here's your key… madam." The innkeeper coughed and cleared his throat. He moved away then and turned around, becoming suddenly enamored by the tens of shiny silver-coated keys hanging on the wall beside him. Wolfram had to suppress a laugh as he walked towards his 'mother', hands clasped together to his front. He used the graceful, virgin walk Yozzak had spent an hour and a half drilling into his male aristocratic brain the night before. He could almost see Gwendal's red face as he suppressed laughter.

"Hey pretty—" someone drawled out from behind him and he jumped, feeling the rough hand groping him from behind. He spun around, features twisted into a frown but before he could grasp at the carefully hidden knife in his bodice (yes, bodice), Yozzak came between him and the man. The half-mazoku smiled sweetly while one of his hands grasped the young blonde's, preventing it from drawing the deadly weapon.

"My, my, Mary Jane, you're already garnering a man's attention!" Yozzak said in a high-pitched voice that made Wolfram wince slightly. He promptly relaxed and tried to play the part of an outraged, yet naïve, country girl. He hoped the man was buying it because he looked more suspicious than outraged.

Wolfram could almost feel the tension hanging in the air and hoped Yozzak could salvage the situation. Then the older, half-mazoku did it, gathering the man in his arms and letting his 'breasts' press against the other's generously before planting a resounding kiss on the man's cheek. Wolfram's eyes bulged and he promptly looked away, disgusted and embarrassed at the same time.

"And that is what this clumsy daughter of mine can't give you yet!" Yozzak promptly declared with a light laugh before spinning the man around and playfully patting him on his rear. The man gaped for a while in silent shock and then laughed, returning the wink at Yozzak – an action that made Wolfram wonder about the man's standards for beauty.

Yozzak was quick to act after that; winking at the gawking innkeeper first before quickly heading towards the rooms. He half-dragged a surprised willowy blonde girl that was Wolfram with him. When they were safe on the other side of the door, he locked and bolted it.

He sat himself one of the beds and then breathed out. "That was close, bouya," the half-mazoku said, running a hand through his hair. Wolfram agreed and nodded eagerly before sitting on the other bed. Yozzak smiled at him and Wolfram eased, realizing Yozzak wasn't angry. If he was angry, he doing a damn good job at being calm about it.

"Next time just play along," Yozzak said finally, grinning lopsidedly before standing up. He gave the blonde a light pan on the head and winked when the blonde looked up. "I'll make sure to keep your cherry safe for your future husband." Another wink and Wolfram's face flushed, turning into the color of a bright red tomato.

Yozzak laughed, or rather, guffawed at him.

He glared at the cross dressing half-mazoku in front of him. It was sad. All Wolfram could think of in retaliation was the word 'dyke' and he doubted that would insult Yozzak. Not when kissing, hugging and sending lustful winks to members of the same sex was norm in his line of work.

Wolfram suddenly felt like sporking someone into an untimely death.

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They spent the afternoon going around town together, asking things like where to buy the cheapest fish and which gossip circles had the juiciest gossips around. Whenever anyone asked about why they were in town Yozzak, with a gleeful laugh and a wide grin, would tell them they were looking to settle down. They were looking to own a small house with a small vegetable garden, he told a poor watermelon vendor at one time. Wolfram thought it was amusing and pitiful to watch at the same time. Yozzak was a skilled liar.

By the end of the day, they came back to the Inn tired –both mentally and physically—a few gold coins poorer and with a name that they were sure was a lead but was nothing more than that; a name. Wolfram plopped himself on his bed with a loud sigh. He stared up at the lamp hanging at the center of the ceiling before taking a fistful of his wig and yanking at it to remove it. Yozzak, who had just finished dutifully locking and bolting their door, headed towards the windows. He closed the curtains tight, making sure they had their much-needed privacy. It would do no good at all if somebody saw lovely little Mary Jane without her beautiful golden tresses. Yozzak grinned, terribly amused by the sight of Wolfram languishing pitifully on the bed.

"All we have is a name!" Wolfram growled angrily, throwing the wig at one grinning Yozzak. He hoped it would hit the half-mazoku flat on the face but, alas, the older mazoku had fast reflexes. Wolfram frowned, sat up and collapsed back onto the bed again. His legs were killing him! He was used to long, easy strides – quick and swift movements. But Yozzak had insisted he keep up with 'the walk' and his act. It made for one long and tiring day between questioning random townsfolk and Yozzak constantly elbowing him in reminder. To make matters worse, this was just the beginning and he knew they were just 'testing the waters' for now, so to speak.

"Tired already, bouya? After just one day?" Yozzak inquired with a lopsided grin as he leaned against the wall, by the window. He threw the wig back. The blonde prince sat up (fully this time) and glared at the half-mazoku, grudgingly catching the abomination with one hand before tossing it aside. He took a deep, deep breath before calmly questioning back.

"How long will this take us?" Yozzak looked up, in thought, and then met his gaze back again.

"Probably a week, give or take." Yozzak ignored the twitch on the young blonde's eyebrows. It was amusing seeing the young blonde's positively irritated reaction without a full-blown frown. "We're still new, you know? Would strike them awfully odd if we started asking about this guy and what he does… especially if he's what we think he is."

"Which is?"

"An important man." Yozzak answered and winked at Wolfram who promptly returned to languishing miserably on the bed and groaning. "Ahh, the clue leads to another clue…and another—" Yozzak sang in a mocking tune making Wolfram groan some more.

"What did you expect? Swordfights and hot ladies in fishnet stockings waiting to be saved?"

Wolfram snorted but there was some truth to that, he knew. He was expecting something more tasking and involving. Was something to keep his mind away from other matters too much to ask for? He took a deep breath and blinked. He could fear the tears trying to well up there in his eyes and it was one to thing to share a room with another man while changing dresses and another to shed tears in front of said man. He had no plans of crying in front of anyone, not if he could help it. If only someone weren't a big dumbass then he wouldn't be here languishing on a bed wearing a dress that seriously made him question his… fashion sense.

"I was hoping for something more exciting…" Wolfram said with a scowl, "I shouldn't have gone…"

"Remorse is a sad thing—" Yozzak shook his head, despite only being partially sympathetic. Yozzak wasn't a firm believer of running away from your problems. He was about to say something else when his ears picked up an odd little sound. He motioned for silence, pressing an index finger to his lips while he quietly crept towards the door. Wolfram quickly placed the wig beside him back on, not taking the time to see if it was securely fastened, and then placed his hand on the hidden knife in his dress.

There were three loud bangs on the door. Wolfram quickly turned to Yozzak; the question of whether to open the door or not was clearly written on his face. Yozzak nodded and motioned for him to stay alert while he unbolted and unlocked the door.

A blur of bright red and white emerged from the door, heading straight for the windows. Yozzak let out a yelp of surprise while Wolfram instinctively stepped into its path, spreading his arms out to prevent it from getting pass him through the sides. The impact happened in mere moments with Wolfram letting out a sharp cry as all oxygen was knocked out of his lungs. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and one heavy mass of body on top of him. It made for one very uncomfortable and uncompromising position, one that, apparently, Yozzak found amusing.

"Ahh… looks like tonight's your lucky night, bouya." Yozzak whistled and then winked at the befuddled Wolfram. "I promise I won't tell," Yozzak added in a low, discreet voice while he grinned from ear to ear. The blonde mazoku blinked and watched as the older man stepped out of their room to check for other people. He looked down to the mass on top of him then. The mass, to be specific, that was preventing him from standing up and which Yozzak thought was incredibly humorous.

A pair of green eyes set on a small, round face framed by fiery red hair met his and realization came like one dumb Maou slapping him square on the right cheek. That wasn't just anyone on top of him; that was a girl – quite possibly a human one at that – on top of him, peering 'innocently' at him with a pair of damned green eyes.

Wolfram, by reflex, pushed the girl off him and edged away until he had his back against a wall. "What the--!"

"It's a girl!" Yozzak suddenly cried with sarcastic, near sadistic, glee before adding in low tone, "…Like you." Wolfram shot him a glare before picking himself off the ground and dusting off his skirt. White was not his color.

Yozzak, who was enjoying the look of defeat on the blonde prince's face whenever he ignored his glares, whistled while he closed the door behind him and began the quick process of locking and bolting it.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?" Wolfram demanded as the girl stood from the ground herself and began hastily smoothing and dusting her skirt.

"I'm trying to escape, thank you!" The redhead said a matter-of-factly and then turned sharply on her heels when a footsteps sounded from outside their rooms. Panic flittered across her face for a few brief moments before calm and apathy took over. Yozzak positioned himself beside the door immediately but Wolfram remained standing in his place right in front of the window, unmoving.

Wolfram stared at the girl defiantly, arms folded across his chest.

"Get out of my way! I have to go!" Urgency was clear in her voice and the footsteps became louder.

"Like I—"

"Let her go." Yozzak cut in calmly and smiled at the defiant prince. Wolfram opened his mouth in protest and then 'hmmphed', defeated. He stepped out of the way with much reluctance. The girl upon seeing the prince's course of action, gave Yozzak a humble bow and flashed them a grateful smile before quickly heading for the window and jumping down into it. Wolfram watched her form disappear into the dark streets below, deeply unsatisfied with how easily they let the girl go without asking her anything.

"With hair like that, it's going to be tough trying to stand out, you know?" Yozzak said suddenly, coming up beside him.

"We should have made her stay, she probably knows something—" Wolfram argued with a frown and Yozzak shrugged. It made Wolfram wonder momentarily if all the spies in his country were made, if not taught, to be nonchalant cross-dressers.

"Like I said, with that hair, it's going to be hard to stand out—" Loud bangs started sounding from their door again, this time of much more intensity and Yozzak whistled, "And looks like the company she was expecting is right on our doorstep…"

Wolfram sighed and then began adjusting his wig with some reluctance. "Do I act like an airheaded blonde now while I flaunt my water-filled breasts?"

Yozzak grinned and began patting him on the back, "Bouya, you're learning… you're learning…"

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