A/N: Thank you "luv animemanga forever" your review got me to get off my lazy ass and got me to write this entire chapter in record time.

Chapter 20

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

The wind howled and the angry blizzard picked up. Day and night could not be discerned through the heavy wall of falling snow. The world was white.

Wolfram trudged onward, his mind blank. He stumbled as he hit a snow drift and sank up to his knees in frozen precipitation. He could not see where he was going, but he didn't need to…his only plan was to put as much distance between the human king's castle and himself as he possibly could. His mind replayed the final conversation he had with his son.

Shinou used his strength to rip the cumbersome hoseki necklace from Wolfram's neck. Beads fell to the floor and scattered in every direction. Shinou proceeded to force open the magically sealed balcony doors. Wolfram only stared at the boy.

"Come with me," said Wolfram, "I don't want to lose you again."

"I can't," whispered Shinou, sounding suddenly like the child he was, "I have to save the world."

"The world isn't worth it…" Wolfram held out his hand, "If we part here, we may very well be enemies when we next meet. I don't want that." Shinou took a step back, shaking his head.

"I'm going to save you too," he insisted.

"Once the curse consumes me, I'm not going to want to be saved," Wolfram reminded him, impatiently.

"I'll find a way," answered Shinou. Such optimism, thought Wolfram. Foolish optimism. Just like Yuuri…

Wolfram found his eyes tearing up. He grabbed the boy and embraced him roughly.

"Don't cry, father. I will see you soon."

An inhuman screech tore Wolfram from his thoughts. He whipped around, still unable to see anything through the icy gale. Then from the trees they appeared. Their grotesque, rotting flesh was shades of green and purple, frozen from the frigid conditions. Arrows protruded from their bodies. Blood sat dried and caked from wounds long since inflicted. Their eyes, blank and unseeing, somehow managed to tear to the very core of Wolfram's soul. He found himself shivering.

They surrounded him now, dragging their rusted and blunted instruments of war. The nearest one raised his sword. Wolfram stood frozen in place, wondering if this was the end, or if he were perhaps already in hell. He closed his eyes, waiting for death.

Nothing happened. Wolfram opened his eyes once more and stumbled backward. The creatures…all of them…were on their knees, heads bowed in respect.

"The markssss…you possessss them. Our master awaitssss you."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Lanzhil slowly stood from his throne as Greta entered the room. She walked to the foot of the stairs and knelt before the human king, her long, chocolate curls obscuring her face as she inclined her head.

"He has escaped, Majesty," she informed him, "It is likely that he will join Yuuri and his forces, who are gathering, even now, outside our borders."

Lanzhil let out a tired sigh. He turned to Murata who was standing quietly near the doors.

"So, Great Sage, shall I punish you for throwing the world into chaos? Should I kill you like I would any other Mazoku? Should I make you stand trial before a court of kings?" he then set his eyes on the golden-haired boy next to him; the boy whose presence was more man than child. "Or should I do nothing, knowing that you may be the only one who knows how to save us?"

"It was never my intention to save you-" Murata began. Shinou cut him off.

"What he means to say is that we are now your only hope and that you should commend him on having the foresight to do what was necessary." Shinou had stepped forward, looking Lanzhil deeply in the eyes. A war of pride between two kings.

"Very well," said Lanzhil after a moment, "I never thought I'd live to see the day where I personally entrusted the safety my country…to a Mazoku."

"Only half Mazoku, dear brother. And rest assured, I will bring justice to those responsible," replied Shinou. Lanzhil hardly seemed reassured. He crossed the room to the large windows, where he stared at the white world, worry etched on his face.

"We must prepare this city for battle," he said quietly. He fixed his eyes back on Shinou. "My troops are yours to command."

"They will not be needed. From the beginning, this has been less of a war between two countries than a lingering grudge between two, old souls."

They were excused from the throne room. Murata followed calmly in Shinou's wake. The halls were drafty and Murata wondered if Shinou was cold in his light clothing. He showed no outward signs that the temperature was getting to him.

Murata patiently waited for Shinou to speak.

"Is something bothering you?" Shinou asked. Murata didn't need to respond. Shinou, after all, already knew the answer. "You want to know who brought me here...who awakened me." Shinou smiled and Murata's jealousy grew. "Fear not, the one to put his hands on me was none other than yourself."

"Myself?" Murata asked, "I think I would remember such a thing."

"It is the most peculiar thing. I'm sure you must have noticed your missing memories, or perhaps your wayward White Crows. He's still here in the castle, if you wish to meet him."

They turned the corner and began heading up the stairs. They came upon a room hidden in one of the towers. Shinou showed him through the door.

The fire was the only light in the room, casting its weak light on the only piece of furniture. A small bed sat in the corner, in it a sickly, elderly man. His eyes had stopped seeing, his skin was wrinkled like old parchment, he was a skeleton of a person. His heart surely would give out within the hour.

"Jenus, someone has come to see you."

Jenus...thought Murata, that was my name...a few hundred years ago.

They reached his bedside. The man, Jenus, lifted his boney fingers. Shinou took his hand, gently, and spoke to him softly. "This man here is the one you have been waiting for. He has come...to take you away." Shinou stepped back and turned to Murata.

"The magic keeping him alive has run dry. He is ready to return your memories to you," Shinou said.

Murata took Shinou's place. He looked down at the broken, old man. A man with a life's mission so strong he had found a way to live a second life. He had to give himself credit. He never knew he had once possessed such determination.

"You're here..." came his raspy voice. He could barely speak. "I avoided you...until the end. Now I must return what is rightfully yours." He gestured for Shinou to come near again. "Remember what I stood for," He grasped Shinou's arm and continued, still speaking to Murata. "Protect him...care for him...hold him...in the way that I never could."

Murata bowed his head, allowing Jenus's unsteady fingertips to touch his forehead. He should have been angry at this stubborn, rebellious part of himself that had the audacity to break away, but now the feelings just wouldn't stick.

"I will," promised Murata in a whisper. Thoughts, ideas, memories all came rushing back to him as the life left the other man's body.

A small sob stole Murata's attention. Shinou, or rather his boy form, was crying. Perhaps the king's emotions had been so great that he had relinquished control of his body to his other self and retreated back to the depths of their mind. Murata put his arms around the boy and let him bury his tear-stained face into his coat.

"Don't ever leave me," cried the boy.

"Never," Murata vowed, hugging his king close, "We've been together since the beginning of time...and we will be together even after the end of it."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

It could hardly be called a camp. No fires, no hustle of men in pre-battle duties, no food or lively chatter. There was only the stench of rotting flesh and blood. Red blood, bright upon the white snow. Blood of countless men and women.

Wolfram was no longer afraid. He walked with his head high. The undead soldiers, reanimated to become the new pieces of Yuuri's chessboard, his pawns, knights, and bishops, none of them questioned Wolfram's presence. On the contrary, they stepped from his path, bowing deeply as their severed bodies would allow. Here was the final chess piece. The queen.

The king greeted his queen in front of his tent. His red eyes met with Wolfram's mismatched red and green. Wolfram could see the hunger in them. Perhaps more terrifying, he could see the hunger reflected in them. Black hair cascaded down Yuuri's back and shoulders. His face, though handsome, had become even more haunting. His maryoku crashed over Wolfram in powerful waves and the blonde was unable to deny his attraction.

An exchange of words was unnecessary. Yuuri all but grabbed him, hauled him inside the tent, and began to ravish him on the floor.

"Time has been good to you. You're more beautiful than ever, Wolfram." The blonde wished he could say the same of Yuuri. True, his body was young and fit, but his skin, ravaged by the ugly curse, reminded Wolfram of the corruption his mind had suffered.

And Wolfram would soon be the same way.

Yuuri wasted little time getting them both out of their clothes. There was nothing to be ashamed of anymore. If anything, Yuuri wore his curse proudly now. Wolfram was hesitant as Yuuri's lips latched on to the soft flesh of his neck and worked their way down. Yuuri pulled Wolfram onto his lap, where the blonde could feel his throbbing hardness. Hands ran greedily down his sides and firm buttocks. Wolfram sighed contently, closing his eyes and letting his body take over. His cock stood hard against Yuuri's stomach and he found himself squirming fitfully in his husband's embrace.

Give in, spoke Yuuri's voice inside his head.

"With this infinite power and with you at my side, the world is ours, Wolfram." He pressed their bodies together, moving his hips in such a way that Wolfram was helpless to follow along. "Join me," he breathed.

Surrender...

Fingers teased Wolfram's entrance, causing his body to arch and a tinge of pink to enter his cheeks. He was completely aroused by the other man. It could no longer be denied. He would do everything it took to be with Yuuri. Even if it meant destroying the world. He had already proved it, hadn't he?

Yuuri had seen the direction of his thoughts. He paused his ministrations.

"You could have let then kill you. Why didn't you?"

"If a man kills for love, he shall have no regrets. If a man dies for love, he dies a fool," Wolfram recited quietly, "A man, wiser than I once thought, spoke these last words to me. All my life I believed that dying for love was the most heroic of all deaths. It wasn't until very recently that I realized," his eyes found Yuuri's, "that if I was dead, quite simply, I wouldn't be able to love you anymore. Love should give people a reason to live, not to die."

"Then, if we are to die tomorrow, what shall we die in the name of?" Yuuri asked cryptically. Wolfram thought for a moment. Indeed, what was more important than love?"

"Men may decide to die for their country, or perhaps their god. But we shall die for the same reason that every man, unknowingly, dies."

"And what reason is that?"

"For there to be a future," said Wolfram as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He was through talking. How could they talk while holding their weeping cocks? Wolfram took charge, positioning himself atop Yuuri and slowly impaling himself, taking every inch into his body. He relaxed around Yuuri, enjoying the sensation of Yuuri's length inside him. He let out a soft moan. Beneath him, Yuuri panted harshly, forcing himself to keep still.

Wolfram began a light, rocking motion, taunting Yuuri with his gorgeous ass. His thighs tightened on either side of Yuuri, as tense as the rest of his body. So beautiful and so asking to be taken and sullied.

Yuuri could wait no longer. He snapped his hips up, his body curling around Wolfram's as the blonde clenched him tightly. Wolfram gasped sharply. His hands found Yuuri's chest as he relinquished control once again. The rough, unlubricated sex began far from comfortable, but passion took over and soon Wolfram was a hot, trembling mess in Yuuri's arms.

Wolfram gripped Yuuri fiercely, gasping and moaning incoherent words along with his king's name as the man fucked him. Yuuri decided he liked to see Wolfram underneath him and forced him onto his back. Wolfram adjusted to the new position easily, opening his legs and lifting his hips so that Yuuri would hit the right spot.

Wolfram found himself sobbing like a virgin, riding the insurmountable pleasure. He begged Yuuri to send him over the edge. Yuuri took a moment to dry his lover's tears, stilling his body, and stroking Wolfram's golden curls in a comforting manner. His uncertain face tried to convey the message that everything was going to be ok.

"Will you follow me into the inferno?" Yuuri wondered.

"'till death do us part," was the whispered reply.

Sometime during the night, they lost themselves.

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

The first rays of sunlight peaked over the hills, giving light and warmth to the frostbitten land. The day had not yet begun and all was silent over the human city. The streets were empty. Doors and windows were boarded up.

At the gate, hundreds of men on horses stood patiently, gripping swords in their frozen hands. In front of them were spearmen, their shields up and their weapons ready. Behind them, atop the wall, were archers, poison arrows notched and waiting to fire on the first creature or man to appear with the sun on the horizon.

Leading them, was one boy. He sat alone in the snow, in the same position that he had been in for hours. No war helm sat upon his head of fair hair, no chest plate on his thin shoulders, no bracers on his arms or legs. Only a golden sword lay across his lap.

Murata dismounted his horse and walked over to the boy, laying a hand on his shoulder. When he spoke, it was with a soft tone, knowing it was to the boy and not to the king he was speaking.

"Are you scared?"

The boy shrugged him off. What must be going through his head at the moment? Was he conflicted about fighting two people who he cared about? Was he sad for the lives that were about to be lost? Was he angry with Murata for setting it all up?

"Shinou, why did you let Wolfram go?" Murata asked, "You knew it was only going to make this harder."

The boy sighed and closed his eyes.

"Whenever I would see..." he paused for a second, unsure, "...King Yuuri, he always looked...sad. And there was nothing I could do about it. Uncle Conrad and Uncle Gwendal would always tell me stories of how he used to smile. When I saw my father for the first time, my real father, I noticed the same sadness."

The boy stood up, his sharp, blue eyes meeting Murata's. "I don't know what will happen today. All I know is that I wanted them to be happy...if only one more time. I..." the boy choked back a sob and his voice morphed into the deep, sultry tones of the original king, "...simply wanted to reunite two lovers before their untimely end."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

A/N: Calm down no one's dead yet. Except Jenus. He served his purpose.

Unlike Yuuri's "maoh mode" (which is actually now his permanent mode in this fic) Shinou's maoh mode just kinda comes and goes as it pleases.

The next chapter will be the last in this story, but like I said, there will be a sequel. The next story is called "The Other Bielefeld Boy" (yes just like "The Other Boleyn Girl") I'll put more details up next chap cause I dont wanna spoil the ending of this fic.

Anyway. It is unlikely that all of my plot holes will get covered in the next chapter so if something is bothering you or you catch a big mistake let me know and i'll explain it or fix it best I can unless it is something that will be carried over to the sequel.

Thanks for sticking with me,

showmaster64x