Camera Obscura (or, Sunshine on Leith)

Author's note: The prompt was basically "Scotty/Chekov historical medieval AU where gay marriage is as normal as the alternative, Chekov is a Russian Prince engaged to the King of Scotland". Obviously it was meant to be pretty cracky, but it morphed into a giant love letter to Edinburgh, and I got embarrassed by it. Among other things that are totally inaccurate, the Camera Obscura telescope wasn't built until the 1850s or something but Scotty came up with trans-warp theory via time travel paradox so does it really matter? The royal palace and some of the outer parts of the Castle weren't built for about a hundred years, and the Balmoral tartan didn't come along until waaay after that. I took Chekov's title from a wiki entry on the tsars, probably totally anachronistic but it was comically long and I couldn't resist. Anyway, I hope it doesn't kick those who actually know history too much out of the story. Also, I don't know how to put on a full old-timey kilt, I'm trusting the internet on that one (it sounded kinky). And I'm sorry for everyone being so out of character. BAH.

THE MARRIAGE OF

Montgomery mac Alasdair

Montgomery the Scott

Defender of the Faith

Ri nan Albannach (King of the Scots)

and the Lordship of Orkney

and the Dominions and Territories thereunto belonging

to

Великий князь Павел Андреевич Чехов

(Velikiy Knyaz Pavel Andreivich Chekov)

Tsarevich of Moskwa and All Russias,

Grand Duke of Vladimir, Lithuania, Volhynia, and Finland,

Prince of Estonia, Livonia, Poland, Bulgaria, and other territories

hereditary Lord and Ruler of the Circassians and Mountain Princes and others;

Lord of Turkestan, Heir of Norway, Schleswig-Holstein, Dithmarschen

and so forth, and so forth, and so forth

at

St Margaret's Chapel

Edynburgh Castle

St Sergius Day

1426

Tsarevich Pavel was miserable. He was far from home, tired, and scared, and dreading his final destination. He had left behind in Moskwa all his brothers, his parents, his teachers, and his beloved animals. All he had left was his Hikaru.

Hikaru was the son of a ronin, and had run away from his vicious father when he was only twelve. He had run very, very far, all the way from Nippon to Viatka. He ran for four years, stealing and fighting along the way, running through the empire of the Great Khan and somehow past the Golden Horde, until he was captured by the tsar's soldiers and brought to Moskwa. When Tsarevich Pavel turned ten, his father gave him Hikaru as a personal bodyguard.

Young Pavel had been dazzled by the sixteen-year-old's exotic beauty, his firm musculature and rich complexion. By how brave and strong he must've been to survive so long amongst the Golden Horde, how cunning and smart (though he was no match for Pavel's great father, of course). Hikaru and Pavel became fast friends, and in many ways, the tsarevich considered his Hikaru to be his only friend.

So it broke Pavel's heart when he decided to run away, because he knew how disappointed his Hikaru would be. Three months out of Moskwa, they were staying at an inn in Lubeck, waiting for their ship, and Pavel had somehow lulled himself into peace the last few days. But their ship was leaving the very next morning, and their journey was almost over, and Pavel realized how very much he did not want to go through with this arrangement.

Pavel left his Hikaru sleeping in their room, and crept out past the soldiers that were escorting them, past the innkeepers and other guests, and slipped into the night.

He crept down the alley, looking for an apple or hay cart. He had an elaborate plan for escape that involved hiding on a farm, and later perhaps finding a small backwards town that he could quickly civilize and manipulate with his inventions. When he felt thick fingers pinching his ear he realized he should never have underestimated his Hikaru.

"You unbelievable brat!" Hikaru scoffed, dragging Pavel along the street. "I can't believe you thought you'd get away with that. And so late in the game, too."

"I'm sorry Hikaru!" the tsarevich cried as he tried to pry Hikaru's grasp off his ear. "I had to at least try. Wouldn't you?"

"Heh," Hikaru smirked. "And what would happen to me, huh? You'd want to me to go to Scotland and tell your husband you aren't coming, or go back home and tell your father you're missing?"

"You could come with me, if you wanted," Pavel said hopefully. "I would've asked if I thought you would say yes."

"Right," Hikaru said, his voice low and unbelieving. They were back at the inn and Hikaru pushed Pavel in front of him, once again creeping past sleeping guests and innkeepers, and accompanying soldiers. They didn't have to send escorts; Hikaru was the only protection Pavel needed. They were only good for minding Pavel's several trunks of luggage.

"We can't go running off and live like nymphs in the forest," Hikaru said jovially when they got back to their small room, sitting down on the lumpy bed and pulling Pavel towards him. "And I can't let a stunt like that go unnoticed. I don't think you'll be able to get away with that nonsense in your new home," he said as he tipped Pavel over his knee.

"No Hikaru don't!" Pavel pleaded, his voice high and panicked. His Hikaru had never spanked him, never even had a harsh word for him, until they had left on this godforsaken journey. He was still the kind, friendly young man that Pavel loved and admired, but he was so strict now, and did not indulge the tsarevich at all. Three months on the road with nothing to do and limited conversation hadn't brought out the best in Pavel.

"Do you have any idea what could've happened to you?" Hikaru asked as he pulled up Pavel's tunic and pushed down his leggings. A strong hand came down hard on Pavel's bare bottom, and the boy yelped. "Nobody here knows you, and we barely speak the language," Hikaru continued smacking the bare skin hard, ignoring Pavel's wiggles and cries. "How do you think I would've felt if someone hurt you? If someone took you away and I never found you again?"

"I'm sorry!" Pavel wailed, trying not to cry. Hikaru was strong and his smacks hurt - Pavel had learned the hard way that his Hikaru would not pull his punches and indulge him the way his teachers had. "I didn't do it to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you!"

Hikaru landed a few more resounding slaps and then stopped, resting his hand on the tsarevich's now-red bottom. "I know," he said, with a small hint of sadness.

"I just don't want to go through with this," Pavel sniffed miserably as he was guided back to his feet, his leggings pulled up over his sore bottom. "I want to go home."

"I know baby, but we're committed now," Hikaru said gently, drawing the tsarevich onto his lap and hugging him close.

"I don't want to be married!" Pavel was crying now, trying to push Hikaru away. But the other man was stronger, and held him tight, cradling Pavel's head on his shoulder.

"Shh, hey, now," Hikaru said. "I thought we made peace with all this. You know you don't have a choice, you know this is important to your father, and anyways we're almost there. Maybe King Montgomery will turn out to be really nice."

"He is not Moskwavy. He's uncultured swine!"

"That's not fair. I'm not Moskwavy. Am I swine?" Hikaru asked.

Pavel lifted his head and looked at Hikaru. "You're different. You're my Hikaru," he said sadly. "And when you speak Nipponese to me, it is beautiful. These Scots all sound like quarrelling rats."

"You've only met two Scots," Hikaru said. He pulled Pavel up onto the bed and laid him down. "So, stop being unreasonable and go to sleep. You know you're not going to win this one."

Pavel obeyed, sullenly, tucking himself under the blankets. He watched Hikaru get comfortable once again on his pallet on the floor. "Will you cuddle with me?"

There was a pause, and he heard Hikaru sigh. Then the other man joined him on the bed. "I don't think your new husband would be very happy if he ever found out," he said as he took Pavel in his arms.

"He is not my husband yet," Pavel replied tartly, cuddling up to his Hikaru. He sighed happily, and after a moment, pushed his face up to mash his lips clumsily against Hikaru's.

Hikaru recoiled. "No, Pasha."

"Please? It is only a kiss, it doesn't mean anything-"

"No, Pasha," Hikaru said, a hint of threat in his voice.

Pavel sighed miserably and buried his face in Hikaru's chest. The other man wrapped strong arms around him.

"What is it like to lie with another man?" the tsarevich asked softly.

Hikaru sighed again, and didn't answer.

"You hated it," Pavel said, like this proved an hypothesis.

"I was too young, that's all," Hikaru said. "And I was only doing what I had to to survive. You're a prince, and you're almost all grown up, even if you don't act like it," he squeezed Pavel gently.

Pavel rubbed his face against his Hikaru's neck and breathed deeply.

"You're making this more difficult than it has to be," Hikaru went on. "You don't want me, not really. You're too smart for me. I bet you anything, we'll get to Edynburgh and you'll think it's the nicest place ever, and you'll fall in love with your new husband in a heartbeat."

His Hikaru was wrong.

The sailing journey from Lubeck to Leith was uneventful, and quite nice in itself, all blue skies and blue seas and sitting with his Hikaru, playing games, or sometimes reading aloud from his manuscripts of Czech plays and poetry. They talked to great length about astronomy, and even though Pavel knew his Hikaru was quite bored, he loved the way his bodyguard always tried to look interested. He sometimes wished, however, that his Hikaru would challenge him, the way his teachers used to before he became too clever for them, but that was not Hikaru's place. (Spanking his bare bottom when he ran away or was rude to other passengers, apparently, was.)

When they landed in Leith, Pavel disembarked with shaky legs, despite the sunshine and clear weather and smell of damp grass. He was nervous and angry and scared. Before he got two steps, followed closely by his Hikaru and the other soldiers carrying his many trunks, he was greeted by the handsome, smiling face of Captain James Kirk. Kirk had been the one to travel to Moskwa over a year ago to arrange Pavels marriage. Pavel's venerable father had perhaps been dazzled by Kirk's handsome charm, but Pavel hadn't been comforted by Kirk's companion, an ugly, hulking man that Kirk called "Cupcake".

Cupcake was not here, however, instead the Captain had at his side a beautiful Nubian woman. Hikaru nudged Pavel, who had never seen a Nubian before and was quite obviously staring. "Don't be obnoxious," the older man muttered.

The Nubian woman turned out to be Nyota, King Scott's translator. Hikaru looked at Pavel expectantly when she greeted them, but even having someone in his new home who spoke his mother tongue so beautifully could not cheer up the tsarevich.

The Captain drove them all to town in an elaborate coach, followed closely by his entourage. Hikaru and Nyota spoke animatedly throughout the journey, Kirk interjecting now and then to point out sights he thought Pavel might like – the city walls, the castle high atop the hill. Some sheep. As Nyota and his Hikaru carried on their conversation in Russian, Pavel watched them out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed.

By the time they arrived in Edynburgh, the skies had darkened and sad clouds cried rain down all over them – not enough to drench right away, but over time they would be soaked. "What a beautiful day!" Kirk exclaimed as he brought them into the city. It was like Edynburgh always had one contemptuous cloud above it, stubbornly raining away. Pavel could not understand why anyone would want to live here.

At the foot of the Royal Mile, and after several failed attempts to bring him into the conversation with Nyota, his Hikaru elbowed him again. Pavel guessed that perhaps his silence was seen as being 'obnoxious'.

"We've made a friend," Hikaru said. "That's pretty good, right?"

"You've made a friend," Pavel grumbled. And it wasn't like Pavel hadn't noticed Nyota's beautiful eyes or long straight hair or how Hikaru looked at her like he was dazzled. He sighed.

"All these people are excited to come out for your wedding," Captain Kirk was saying, gesturing out at the crowded, narrow cobble-stoned street, filled with people in their rain-soaked, threadbare clothes. The tenement buildings lining the streets teetered inward at the tops; women came to the window and dumped out buckets of filth onto the streets. Pavel scowled.

"They are disgusting," he muttered to his Hikaru.

"It's exactly the same at home, Pasha," Hikaru replied. "And anyways it's not like you're gonna live down here."

He was right, of course – they reached the top of Castle Rock and through the fog Pavel got the first up-close look at the Castle – a huge, grey collection of towers and arches and smaller buildings. Captain Kirk pointed out the battlements, the various walls, talked about what parts of the castle were built when. He pointed out the Nor Loch visible around the cliffside, and Pavel was begrudgingly impressed by the sound strategy of the castle's construction – atop a steep cliff, surrounded by a natural moat, with only a thin road connecting it to the peasant town at the foot of the Rock.

He felt a little pang of homesickness – the castle was so different from his father's palaces. It was all straight lines and grey brick, and it loomed forbiddingly out of the fog. The palace where Pavel had grown up was bright and tall, all soft colours and long spires. This place was so foreign – but it was alluring in its own way – the castle was strong and thick and masculine, and Pavel was surprised by how beautiful he found it.

They passed through the large arch in the front of the gate, servants and guards milling about despite the now-heavy rain. In the open-air square inside they were greeted by two more men – both tall and intimidating, one with soft brown hair, the other with pitch black hair and piercing dark eyes and, notably, ears that tapered up into an elf-like point. Pavel wanted to stare, having never seen an elf before (this was a day of firsts, apparently), but not wanting to embarrass his Hikaru further, he kept his gaze firmly on his feet.

Captain Kirk basically jumped out of the carriage and bounced over to the two men. "Spock!" he cried out cheerfully, pushing the elf-eared man forward. "Meet the king consort, Pavel." After listening to him for a few hours, the tsarevich could almost entirely understand the Captain through his accent.

Spock took one of Pavel's hands in his. "Greetings. I trust your journey was pleasant." Pavel didn't have much of a response except for a scowl. "I will be your tutor," Spock went on. His voice was more polished than the Captain's and he spoke much slower.

Pavel raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You will be my teacher?" He straightened himself up, haughtily. "I had finest minds in all Russia as my teachers."

"Pasha!" he heard his Hikaru hiss behind him.

Spock didn't respond right away except for a dispassionately raised eyebrow, "I can assure you, I am more than capable of meeting your requirements. I have recently returned from Prague where I was repairing the Orloj astrolabe."

Pavel's eyes lit up. "You worked on Prague Orloj!" he gasped.

"Indeed. In fact, I was one of the mathematicians that originally devised it."

"Oh!" Grumpiness momentarily forgotten, Pavel beamed. "I always wanted to go to Prague and see astrolabe there. When I was seven, I --"

"Yeah, yeah," the brown-haired man elbowed Spock out of the way. This man was also easier to understand than Captain Kirk, his accent drawling out slower. "There's plenty of time for that nonsense after you're married. C'mon kid, it's time for your examination."

Pavel squeaked. "Ex-examination?"

"Yeah – have to make sure the goods are saleable," the brown-haired man winked at him as Pavel blushed deeply. "You can bring your servant and Miss Nyota if'n you want, but it's going to be a very personal examination."

Pavel gulped. His Hikaru put a hand on his shoulder.

"No, no," the tsarevich said, shrugging off Hikaru's hand. "I want to go alone, Hikaru. You stay with your new friend and talk."

Hikaru frowned, but Pavel turned away.

The Palace was the largest building inside the walls of the castle. It melded into the rain and fog – inside it was all dark wood painted over with not-very-lively colours. It was incredibly dull and depressing.

The brown-haired man, a healer called McCoy, led Pavel to a tiny secluded room in the palace. They hid inside a quadrangle of white hanging sheets, where McCoy told Pavel to take off his clothes. The healer was tall and well-built, with heavy, wide hands that he put on Pavel's body. Having only been touched, really, by his Hikaru (and maybe a quick kiss or hug from his parents or brothers), Pavel wasn't prepared for the healer's warm, calloused hands on his flesh. He squirmed and blushed and kept his fists clenched over his privates throughout the examination.

"Well, you're healthy enough," McCoy said. He tapped Pavel's clenched fists. "But you gotta let me take a lot at that, too."

Pavel squirmed and blushed even harder. "D-do I?"

"Yes," McCoy gave Pavel a look that said he wasn't going to listen to any pleading. Maybe his Hikaru was right – maybe he couldn't get away with his 'nonsense' here. "You don't have to be embarrassed," McCoy said gently prying the tsarevich's hands away from his cock which, sure enough, was half-hard. "It's perfectly normal," he went on, putting his hand over that hot piece of flesh, and squeezing slightly. "You're in good working order, and you're all clean. You should be happy. Scotty will be."

Pavel had his eyes squeezed shut and his face pointed away. He flinched ever so slightly at the casual, familiar mention of his soon-to-be-husband. "Will I have to – is he –" he stuttered uselessly.

"You don't have to worry about that tonight. You're just going to take it easy, you hear me?" McCoy's hand moved further back, and Pavel gasped at it brushed a part of him that nobody, not even his Hikaru, had gotten close too. "Now, you are a virgin, right?"

Pavel didn't think it was possible, but his face flushed even hotter. He tried to formulate an answer but he couldn't.

"If you're not, I'll be able to tell," McCoy said warningly.

"Da, da!" Pavel cried out at last. "I mean, yes, I am virgin," he nodded his head miserably. Not for want of trying, he thought.

McCoy smirked and withdrew his hand. "It's okay, kid, relax. I'm supposed to ask, it's tradition. It doesn't actually matter. And you can't tell if a boy is still a virgin." McCoy sat down on a nearby stool and handed Pavel his clothing. "Between you and me, I'm skeptical if you can even tell if a girl is a virgin, really, but nobody listens to me. Both my ex-wives used pig's blood to stain the sheets on our wedding nights."

Pavel's eyes widened and he visibly balked, half into his tunic. "Pig's blood! Eugh!"

McCoy chuckled. "You won't have to do that. Scotty will love you just the way you are," he leaned back and regarded the boy a short while. "Now, is there anything you want to know?"

"Nyet," Pavel shook his head, avoiding the healer's gaze. "I will ask my Hikaru if there is anything," he shifted a little bit on his feet. "My teacher, Mister Spock – is he an elf?"

McCoy laughed out loud. "No, not really. I mean, maybe. Maybe half."

Pavel frowned and wrung his hands. "But he looks so strange. Is he a wizard?"

McCoy chuckled again. "Yeah, kid, he's a wizard. Don't tell that to his face, though. Look, if you need anything just ask for me, okay? How are you feeling now?"

Pavel sighed, suddenly weary again. "I am very tired," he said.

The sun set so fast – all of a sudden it was dark – and the rain beat down on the stones outside their little room in the Palace. It was somberly painted, and musty inside. Pavel sat staring moodily out the window at the grey skies and the valley filled with mist while his Hikaru sorted through his clothing for the next day.

"You're not going to be such a brat tomorrow," Hikaru warned. "I swear to God, Pavel, I am not above taking you into a closet and giving you a thrashing on your wedding day."

"I am not being a brat!" Pavel sniped. "This place is awful! Look outside. Some people might think it's romantic, but not me," he wrapped arms around himself, shivering ever so slightly. "And it's so damp. I'm going to catch my death."

Hikaru came up to him, draping another sweater around his shoulders. "No, you won't," he said.

"And the worst part," Pavel paused, his voice shaky. He realized something had caught in his chest, something round and vulnerable, that he had been ignoring for a while. He turned to Hikaru, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed. "The worst part is that I will lose you," he sniffed.

Hikaru's beautiful eyes opened ever so slightly and his beautiful lips parted, like he was surprised Pavel would ever think that. "Oh, Pasha, no," he said, and reached out his arms to the tsarevich. Pavel came over and settled himself on his Hikaru's lap, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "I came here with you, I'm not about to leave. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

"But she is so pretty," Pavel whispered into Hikaru's neck.

"Who, Nyota?" Hikaru asked. He paused for a long while. "Well, yeah, she is. But that doesn't mean you'll lose me."

"And also I will be married and I won't get to pretend anymore," Pavel said, even more softly, his eyes closing against tears.

"Well, that's true," Hikaru said. He pressed his lips against Pavel's temple. "But it doesn't mean I'll stop loving you."

Pavel clenched his fists for courage, leaned up and, for the last time, tried to kiss Hikaru on the mouth.

"Pavel..." Hikaru started but no other words came.

"Just for practice," Pavel said softly, against the other man's lips.

"All right. But just for practice," Hikaru agreed, and then gave Pavel the kisses he had been dreaming off all these years.

Perhaps the kissing practice wasn't the best idea.

On the day of his wedding, Pavel at least had the morning to himself, with nowhere to rush to and nothing happening until the afternoon. The sky was still dark, the town and valley and Nor Loch beneath the Castle still shrouded with fog, and the rain beat down like a drum. Pavel spent the morning writing in his journal, lamenting his last hours as a free bachelor, and trying not to annoy his Hikaru, who looked at him with such love and sadness that it broke his heart.

Eventually though, he was cosseted up in his white shirt and embroidered vest, and his Hikaru was leading him down and out in the rain to St Margaret's Chapel, across the square from the Palace. He felt silly and out of place – all the other men were in masculine, warm-looking kilts. But it was when he got inside the Chapel and a got a first glimpse of his husband that he really felt guilty.

St Margaret's Chapel was a tiny, little white chapel, with hardly any room for Spock (who was officiating apparently), Pavel, King Montgomery, and their witnesses – Miss Nyota, Captain Kirk, the healer McCoy and his own Hikaru. It was actually quite cramped.

And the King – well, it's not that he wasn't handsome. On second glance, he was actually not that bad looking at all. He was just so... pasty, and unkempt, even with all the intricate grooming that came with being King. He had too much hair on his face and not enough on his head, and his smile was lopsided and full of crooked teeth.

But it was after the long, boring parts of the ceremony – Pavel was too overcome with depression to be able to hear the English words – when the King kissed him, that Pavel really felt disappointed.

It was nothing like Hikaru's kisses.

Pavel stood there and bore the indignity of it, however, trying to keep himself from shaking, or crying, or throwing a punch, trying to be strong for himself, for his country, for his new husband, for his father, and for his Hikaru.

There was a grand party in the Great Hall, and Pavel lost track of time, staring at the red walls and miles of paintings and not his new husband. He found himself wishing this were all over, but then wishing it would go on forever so he didn't have to face what happened afterwards. There was a lot of that awful hot liquid called scotch, but there also, thoughtfully, a lot of vodka.

Pavel drank and drank, and was frankly impressed when King Montgomery could match him drink for drink.

"Och, lad," the King slurred, holding Pavel tightly to him. They had been dancing, Pavel red-faced and staring down at his feet. Now they were slumped together on a cushioned seat, the King clutching Pavel with one arm, Pavel trying to shy away, biting a nail compulsively. "I wish you were happier the night."

"I am sorry," Pavel said unenthusiastically.

"Ach, dinnae be sorry," the King said, his face falling a little like Hikaru's had the night before. "I'm sorry. I ken how much a burden this must be fae you, and you must be so tired. You cannae be having any fun, how could you," he brushed through Pavel's curls with his free hand. "D'ye want to get out of here? Couch down fae the night?"

Pavel worried at his fingernail a little more, and his wide eyes slid over to where his Hikaru was talking with Miss Nyota, standing by an impressive display of spears and swords. Well, it didn't matter anymore. He was married and that was that. It was time to start being a man and stop pining.

"I would like," he said, very softly. Hastily, he added, "if that pleases you, your highness, sir."

"Oh, my wee bairn," the King chuckled softly and he brushed a kiss against Pavel's forehead. His stubble grazed Pavel's skin and the tsarevich's face got hot, and other parts. "Call me Scotty. All my friends do."

The King's quarters were obviously quite a bit more lavish than the other rooms in the Palace that Pavel had yet seen, but were still quite small, damp and dark compared to the place Pavel had grown up in.

He lay under the down blankets on the King's bed, naked and shivering, while his new husband ran rough, thick fingers over his chest and stomach and lower. There were no sounds other than the both of them breathing heavily, and the rain pounding on the windows.

"Ye all reet?" Scotty asked, still slurring as he pressed his face into Pavel's neck.

"Da, yes," Pavel lied. He was terrified, gripping Scotty's broad shoulders. It wasn't that terrible – the stubble brushing against his neck made even the smallest hairs stand up on end, and the rest of his body was similarly charged – and he was definitely hard.

He was drunk enough that it was easy for his mind to wander, for his head to grow heavy with his eyes closed and for him to pretend he was elsewhere. He hoped the King was also drunk enough that he wouldn't notice.

But he was also so tense. He tightened his grip on Scotty's shoulders as the King pressed warm, oil-slicked fingers into him, wincing against the discomfort. This was not at all what he wanted, when he lay coiled up next to his Hikar – stop thinking of that, he scolded himself. He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts towards his new husband, the alliance with his father, to Russia.

Soon, though, Scotty was pushing into him, and oh, it hurt. He buried his head in the King's shoulder and although he tried, he couldn't think of anything besides the blinding pain. He got soft. He grit his teeth and counted the thrusts, waiting for his new husband to be finished.

Scotty did come eventually, strangling out "Oh, Pavel!" and collapsing on top of him. Pavel bit his lip and kept quiet as he felt Scotty soften and slip out of him. The older man caught his breath for a few moments, and rubbed his face against Pavel's, and then rolled off him. He wrapped his strong arms around the tsarevich and pulled him close. "Oh, Pavel," he breathed again, dropping kisses all over Pavel's sweaty face. He pulled back and looked at the boy. "Are you – are you crying?" he asked, tenderly.

And indeed, Pavel was, and he couldn't hide it anymore. He was racking with his own sobs and his face was wet with tears. He buried his face in Scotty's chest as the other man rocked him gently.

"Am sorry," Pavel choked out. His English failed him further and he muttered out apologies in Russian – "I wanted to be better for you, I wanted to please you --"

"Oh my wee petal, my wee love," Scotty said. "Did I hurt you?"

"Am okay," Pavel said weakly.

"Och, naw," Scotty murmured again, his hands wandering down to Pavel's flank, stroking him softly. "What a daft bugger I am. I shouldnae have taken you to bed the night, I was too blutered to listen properly."

"Nyet," Pavel sobbed. He wiped at his eyes. "Is not that," he insisted, although it was, part of it. Mostly it was just the realization that this was it for the rest of his life.

Scotty tried to hug him close again, but Pavel pushed him away. "I do not want..." his English failed him again, and he settled on moving back a few inches and turning away, curling himself around a gathered up part of the blankets.

He heard Scotty sigh behind him, and felt the other man's hand reach out and stroke his curls, like his Hikaru used to do. "I'm sorry, my wee love," the King murmured. Pavel didn't answer.