Chapter 11

Over the past few days, Victor has observed that Yuuri has quite a tendency for shrieking. In general, he has a very wide emotional range, which he showcases very openly; a stark and welcome contrast with Yakov, whose face seems permanently stuck on a stern scowl. Still, Victor can't help feeling a little concerned about all the shrieking.

"Are you alright? Does it hurt?" he asks, cautiously. He doesn't use his hair magic to heal injuries very often, just the few occasions Makkachin has gotten hurt when playing and that one time Yakov cut himself during sword practice, so he has no way of knowing if Yuuri could experience any kind of negative effects.

Yuuri doesn't answer, his eyes wide like plates staring at his palm. Victor peeks over to confirm the blood and the wound have disappeared. He sighs with relief. It looks like everything went fine.

"Yuuuri, I told you not to freak out!" He whines playfully. There's something very endearing about Yuuri's wide variety of bewildered and confused expressions.

Still no reaction, just gaping. Victor pokes Yuuri's palm, just a little bit delighted by the soft texture of his skin. It reminds him a bit of squeezing Makkachin's paws. He pokes again, entranced by the lines on Yuuri's palm. What kind of stories do they tell? He has always had a passing interest in chiromancy, but with no one's palm but his own to look at (Yakov always said those things were a waste of time and that he should focus on studying important things. Important things, for Yakov, meant boring things), he had kind of lost motivation to study it. Now he wishes he had been more constant. Do the lines of Yuuri's palm cross with his at some point?

Yuuri's finger touches right next to Victor's, where the wound used to be, and it breaks Victor out of his contemplation.

"How?" Yuuri asks at last, his voice a little thin.

Victor shrugs.

"Y-you can't just shrug! What was… with your hair I—I don't understand." He sighs, visibly frustrated at his own inability to find the right words.

Victor trails his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "It's always done that. I sing and it heals people. And Makkachin. I mostly use it for Makkachin." He lets go of Yuuri's hand and reaches out to pat Makkachin's head. "It doesn't work on myself though, every time I've twisted my legs dancing or cut myself with the sword, I've had to wait for it to heal like normal. Isn't that silly?" he laughs, twirling a lock of hair around his index finger.

Yuuri stares at him, still looking stunned. "So you just… sing? And then it just heals stuff? Why? How can your hair do that?"

Victor shrugs again. "I just remember when Yakov taught me the song. He said it was a rare and precious gift that people would want to steal away. That's why he always said I shouldn't leave the tower." He smiles melancholically. Sometimes, he wished he could give up this gift if it meant he would be allowed to go outside. But then he'd think, who would take care of Yakov's back pain and who would make Makkachin feel better when he gets hurt playing? He can't be so selfish.

"And did you use this magic to heal Yakov too?"

When he looks up, he finds Yuuri's bewildered expression has changed to one of cautiousness. Victor cocks his head, "Yes?" Yakov has never liked it when he does that, but he has always been the only person in Victor's life, and as the years go by and leave their marks on Yakov's skin, the color of his hair, the aches in his joints, Victor can't help the mounting fear of what would happen if that one and only person was gone. So he does it anyway. "He's very old, his back is always hurting him, so I help him a little sometimes, when he brushes my hair."

Yuuri inhales sharply. Victor doesn't understand.

It finally makes sense, with all this new information. The one piece of Victor's puzzle that never quite fit to Yuuri was why would some old man keep a young man captive for nearly twenty years, provide him with all kinds of luxuries and convince him that the world was scary and dangerous to make sure he never escaped. But finally, that piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.

He's using Victor.

It almost feels like a story taken out of a fairytale. An evil old man hoarding for himself the gift of youth and health. Treating Victor like an object and denying him of the wonders of the world for his selfish motives. And even fooling him into believing everything was for Victor's own sake. What a vile, miserable man. To think Yuuri almost left Victor behind in that tower. He curls his fist as anger burns in his veins, his determination stronger than ever to make sure Victor never goes back to that prison and experiences true freedom and happiness.

Victor looks at him with curiosity and Yuuri has to force himself to relax his expression. Even though he can understand things now, Victor has been tricked by Yakov all his life. He has already experienced how defensive Victor gets about the subject; if he tries to explain this to him, Victor might run off. No, he has upset Victor enough during this trip, the least he can do is dedicate all his energy to make sure the next 48 hours are everything Victor has always dreamed of. Victor deserves that much. They can talk things out after the festival.

"L-let's get moving, we have a long way to go yet."

With a lot less gold coins than he had coming in and a soiled sense of pride, Captain Yuri Plisetsky finally manages to free himself of the Katsuki family and set back on his way. Where should he head now, though, he has no idea. That inn was his only lead and no one in town will give him any information regarding "Eros" or any other winter dancer from his Wanted posters.

He'll think about that later, he decides as he hurries to mount Agape and snap the reins to make her gallop. First he needs to get out of here before the deceitfully kind looking inn lady decides to treat him to more of her hospitality

If he enjoyed the natural hot springs and the lady's otherworldly cooking, he'll never say it out loud.

When they finally find their way out of the forest, they are met with a small village that is buzzing back to life with the first lights of day. People are coming and going, setting up preparations for the festival, selling food, and clothes, and crafts.

"Wow!" Victor gasps, eyes bright with excitement, "There's so much people here!"

"Come," Yuuri says, walking farther away from the trees and towards the bustling crowd. He realizes Victor didn't get the chance to experience the liveliness of a village yesterday because they spent the whole day in his parents' inn. Makkachin follows him, hopping and running in circles around him.

"Eh? But Yuuri, I thought people shouldn't see you." Victor points out, his expression concerned and hesitant, whilst poorly trying to conceal how much he actually wants to explore the village.

Of course, Yuuri's not unaware of the danger. "We'll just have to hope no one recognizes me like this," he points at his glasses, hoping to sound less worried than he actually is. "We have to ask where we are anyway; we took so many turns in the woods I'm not sure of where the river is anymore. We need to find it to get back on track."

Victor's eyes sparkle even brighter, although he still forces himself to insist. "Are you sure?"

Yuuri's heart flutters seeing how much Victor is willing to hold back from his own wishes to ensure his safety. It only makes him more confident in this choice. "Very sure, come on, it's getting late."

Victor beams. "Okay!" he bounces to catch up with Yuuri, a huge heart-shaped smile on his face that makes Yuuri's chest ache. "But if anything seems sketchy, promise you'll tell me. No more lying and hiding things."

Yuuri feels himself smile. "I promise".

It seems to be enough to satisfy Victor, who finally relaxes his stance and looks away from Yuuri to let his eyes wander around the colorful village. Makkachin sniffles the air and seems at a complete loss for what to do, overwhelmed with the new sounds and smells. Victor doesn't look that different, and Yuuri giggles at the mounting wonder in his bright blue eyes.

It's noisy with voices, animal noises, the sound of clothes and steps, the crash of something breaking, laughter, birds singing. They get lost in the crowd and walk by a minstrel who sings bits of the story of the Lost Prince as a group of men and women hang beautiful blue flags with silver roses from the ceilings of the houses. A group of children passes by them squealing and laughing and Victor follows them with his eyes, smiling melancholically. Yuuri chews on his lower lip. Is it even possible to make up for everything Victor has missed?

A sweet, familiar scent reaches his nose, and an idea sparks in his mind.

"Victor!" he calls, grabbing Victor's wrist and tugging lightly. "Follow me!"

Victor looks at him and his pale cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink, but he immediately beams and nods. Makkachin woofs as he trots by their side, making their way through the crowd, dodging people carrying baskets full of clothes, flowers and fruits atop their heads. Yuuri follows the smell until they reach a small, quaint little shop with brown brick walls and flowers decorating the corner of the windowsill. The owner walks by the window and carries out what Yuuri came looking for: a tray full of smoking, soft and fluffy looking bread.

"Wow! These smell delicious!" Victor exclaims.

"Oh, they absolutely are, the best in town!" the old lady greets them with a kind smile "You're in luck, this is the last batch for today and it just came out of the oven!"

Victor turns to look at Yuuri, eyes wide with wonder. "Yuuri you…"

Yuuri smiles. "You said you always wanted to know the smell of freshly-baked bread."

Victor's smile turns so wide, Yuuri wonders if his cheeks don't hurt. "Yuuri!" he squeals, throwing his arms around Yuuri's neck and squeezing him tightly. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri catches sight of the old lady, who smiles at him like she knows a compromising secret and quirks an eyebrow knowingly. Yuuri feels himself boil under his skin.

"W-we'll take two." He tells the lady breathlessly, even as he feels like melting in Victor's tight embrace.

Her smile widens as she takes Yuuri's copper coin and hands them two loaves of bread. Victor finally untangles himself from Yuuri and grabs his piece of bread, brings it close to his nose and inhales long and deep, eyes closed in concentration. Yuuri finds himself staring with baited breath, clutching his own bread with anticipation.

Victor's eyes shoot wide open and they look like they've turned into actual stars. "Amazing!"

He has read so many stories about the wonder and comfort of freshly-baked bread. In fairytales, it's like the staple of the start of a hero's journey, to walk by a bakery and take in the delicious scent. And truly, the warmth and depth of the smell makes Victor tingle, like his own adventure is just getting started.

"It's the most delicious smell!" he declares, taking a small bite and chewing tentatively, the taste as wonderful as the smell. Probably only Lady Hiroko's cooking could compare to this. "This is incredible, Ma'am."

The baker smiles at him, "My, what an enthusiastic young man. You can take an extra piece for your journey, since you liked it so much."

"Oh! Really?! That'd be so kind!"

"Of course, go ahead, I don't think I've ever seen anyone make such a joyous expression just from eating a piece of bread. Knowing that it will be making you smile is enough reward for me."

Victor takes the extra loaf of bread the lady offers, clutching it like a precious treasure. "Thank you so much!" he grins, barely containing the urge to bounce on his toes with happiness.

"Thank you." Yuuri echoes, smiling at the woman warmly.

Victor bites his lip, his heart jumping inside his chest. The kindness of Yuuri's smile could rival the light of the sun itself, he thinks.

He turns around towards Makkachin and kneels down, offering him a small piece of bread. "I'm sure the kind lady won't be mad at me for sharing." He muses.

Makkachin chomps it enthusiastically and woofs his approval, pawing at Victor's hand to ask for more. Victor laughs. "No more, we have to save this for the road." He declares sternly, tucking the bread away into his satchel.

Yuuri taps his shoulder to get his attention. "The lady was kind enough to help me figure out where we are, so now I know how to get back to the river." He says, holding his map proudly. "We should get going, it's not a great idea for me to be out in public for so long." He adds, smiling sadly.

"Oh." Victor gasps, understanding dawning on him. "Yeah, you're right." He pats the top of Makkachin's head and gets back on his feet. He can't say he's not disappointed.

"I'm really sorry." Yuuri mutters, clearly dispirited.

Victor shakes his head. "Don't apologize, it's thanks to you that I got to try this delicious bread. And I'm sure there are even more surprises lying ahead, I can't wait for it." He says, clasping Yuuri's hands and squeezing them tightly. Just the fact that Yuuri is taking him to see the lights is already amazing, but that he's going out of his way to let him experience all these things he'd always dreamed of… Victor isn't sure he's deserving of such kindness.

Yuuri still seems regretful, but he nods. "If we make a good pace, we should reach Novgorod tomorrow morning. I'm sure you'll love it."

Victor grins. "Let's go then."

It is not long before they find themselves deep into the forest, surrounded by the noise of singing birds, the cracking of leaves and twigs, the padding of their feet on the snow, and the smell of pines and wood. They walk in contented silence, with Victor occasionally humming a tune, as Yuuri inspects the map intently to make sure they're walking in the right direction.

"Look, Yuuri!" Victor says suddenly and points at the trees that tower over their heads, how the light filters in between the thick leaves, creating beautiful shadows on the snow.

Yuuri hums softly. "There is a word for that, in the tongue of my homeland. Komorebi. I haven't found an equivalent for it in any other tongue."

"Komorebi", Victor repeats, wistfully. "Yuuri's homeland must be really special, to have a name for something so beautiful."

A soft red blush spreads over Yuuri's cheeks as he scratches his chin. "I'd never thought about it that way." He admits. "It… it is kind of nice." His expression turns a little melancholic as his eyes focus on the shapes and shadows on the snow.

Victor twirls in one foot. "Do you miss it?"

"Hm?"

"Your homeland."

"Oh." Yuuri gasps, startled. "Like I said, I don't remember a lot about it. I was very young when we came here."

Victor hums pensively as they continue walking. "We should visit it." He concludes after a few steps. "After the festival, we should go visit your homeland!"

"Eh?" Yuuri flinches, surprised. "Wait, that's… it's really far away and—"

"But it'd be good, don't you think?" Victor interrupts, eyes sparkling. "We can visit other lands were winter dancing isn't forbidden. You wouldn't have to keep hiding. It could be an adventure!"

Yuuri's heart thumps loudly in his chest. "And you… you would come with me?" He asks, hesitantly.

Victor isn't fazed at all. "I'd love to see the place where Yuuri was born! I'm sure it's wonderful."

"It'd be a very difficult journey." Yuuri objects, "And very long. We don't have any money and in the lands of the south, the lakes don't freeze in winter. We'd experience many hardships along the way, it's not even certain we can make it there alive. Are you sure you want to come in such a trip?"

Victor twirls again, and when he comes around, he grasps both of Yuuri's hands, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "Yuuri, are you seriously asking me this? After all this time, what could I possibly want more than to explore the world! To go on adventures! Just think of how many surprises can be waiting out there, how could I miss out on it?"

Yuuri chews on his lower lip. It's a crazy idea for sure. It's not that he hasn't thought about visiting his parents' land, especially now that the prohibition in this kingdom has become so strict. But he had never considered it a serious possibility. With Victor though… when Victor says it, it sounds like anything is possible.

"His Majesty will see you now."

Otabek turns to look at the guard who just spoke. He's tall and wears thick armor with a unicorn head as an emblem, as opposed to the Rose and Moon crest that the Royal Guard wears. This man belongs to a special unit within the military ranks, the Regent's Guards, the only knights in the kingdom that aren't under Yuri's authority. Otabek has never liked them.

He nods and walks into the throne room in silence. The Regent observes him, following him with his sharp eyes until Otabek has kneeled in front of the throne.

"You requested a hearing, Lieutenant Altin." He states dryly. His voice sounds coarse.

"It has been four days since you sent Captain Plisetsky away to capture the fugitive winter dancers. The company's morale is low in the Captain's absence, and the townsfolk feel unsafe without his guidance. I'm requesting your permission to aid him in his search so he can return to guard the city as soon as possible."

He shouldn't have let Yuri go alone on that mission. They both knew it wasn't a mission the Regent expected him to return from in the short-term. The kingdom is vast and the winter dancers have gotten quite skilled at avoiding capture over the years. The commonfolk love them too, not many would give them away. The Regent knew this when he assigned the mission. For all intents and purposes, it was temporary exile.

"Your loyalty could be a valuable asset if it were aimed in the right direction, Lieutenant." The Regent says, his tone measured. "Now, do you think it would be prudent for our city to be left without its main defenders? Our great festival is tomorrow, it would be too reckless to send our trusted Royal Guard away on such an occasion. I have faith in our prodigious Captain Plisetsky, he has the skill to succeed in his mission and bring justice to those criminals. Do you not share my faith?"

Otabek grits his teeth and clenches his fist. He had never harbored hopes that this meeting would solve the situation, but that doesn't make the resolution less infuriating. He was overcome with frustration when Yuri's grandfather, doctor Nikolai, had lamented that his grandson wasn't home for his 19th birthday. If only there was anything he could do.

"I do have a mission for you, Lieutenant, so you'll occupy your mind with something useful." The Regent continues, making a sign to one of his guards, who approaches Otabek and hands him a Wanted poster. The person featured, though, is not a winter dancer. The name inked at the bottom of the page reads 'Yakov Feltsman'. "This man stole something irreplaceable from this kingdom many years ago and went missing for a long time. Recently, we received reports that he was sighted not too far from Novgorod. It's possible he will try to enter the city during the festival. Recovering the treasure is of crucial importance, he must be captured alive."

Otabek's fingers clench on the paper as his eyes go over the name repeatedly.

Suddenly, the Regent lurches forward and starts coughing violently. Four of his guards surround him in an instant, while a fifth one approaches Otabek and pushes him to the door. "You are dismissed," he says simply before unceremoniously shutting the door on his nose.

Otabek looks back down at the image on the poster.

Things just got a lot more complicated.

"My apologies, Captain, I have never seen or heard of this person." The young merchant says, bowing his head before continuing down the path.

Yuri sighs as he folds the poster and places it back in his traveling satchel. He didn't expect any different, not after asking at least twenty different people he's crossed on the road, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. Not when he feels with absolute certainty that he had been so close to catching the runaway winter dancers. He may have lost his one chance to be allowed back home.

He looks forlornly at the road ahead, the path that leads directly to Novgorod. The Festival for the Lost Prince is tomorrow, so a lot of people from all over the realm are traversing this road to get to the city. It's probably going to get more and more crowded the closer he gets to the capital, which will make it difficult for Agape to make it through. It's best to continue the search off the road.

His eyes widen with realization.

What an idiot.

Of course wanted criminals wouldn't be traveling over the main roads where people and soldiers could easily spot them. Even if he knew where Katsuki and his companions were headed, he would never cross them in these crowded roads.

He tugs on the reins and leads Agape off the path, into the woods, then halts and studies his surroundings. The feeling of the thick trees all around him, their dark leaves hiding most traces of sunlight, branches growing in every direction is slightly claustrophobic. Where would a troupe of winter dancers go hide from the royal guard? Of course, since their identities are generally unknown, Yuri's thoughts immediately go to a family home, and all seems to indicate Katsuki Yuuri did make a stop at his parents' inn, but Yuri has no leads for any of his companions.

It's then that he remembers the branch of the Volkhov river that passed the Katsuki estate. Is it possible the fugitives chose it as an alternative road for whatever their destination may be? With the river completely frozen in some areas there would be no fishermen around and the path should be mostly deserted. It's plausible, even, that they use that route frequently and have multiple hideouts along the way.

It's more a hunch than a tangible lead, but following his gut feelings is part of what made him into the youngest captain in the History of the Royal Guard. He looks up at the sun to confirm his position and pulls the reins again, leading Agape through the woods, in the direction opposite to Novgorod. He needs to find the Volkhov again.

The river crosses his path as they get close to a nearby town. It is significantly wider than the small stream he saw at the Katsuki home, though still not so wide that Agape couldn't cross it in a single stride. Now the obvious question is which direction he should take. Of course, it would be most logical for the fugitives to run away in the direction opposite to the city, but these winter dancers have proved numerous times that they're not necessarily interested in what one could consider the most logical course of action. And the Prince's festival is tomorrow, it wouldn't be all that surprising for winter dancers to flock into the city in disguise, in spite of the risk.

Once again, he has little more than a hunch to go by, but it's better than nothing. He can feel he's onto something with this. And so, he tugs on Agape's reins and leads her north along the riverbank, in the direction of Novgorod.

As expected, the way is completely deserted. Even ice merchants wouldn't be interested in getting their supplies from this area, where the river is still rather narrow and not too deep. The water is visible, with just a few large chunks of ice floating on its surface, yet it's too cold for fishing. He hears birds singing and sees a deer leaning down and chewing from a bush in the distance. Its ears turn as Yuri approaches, and it lifts its long neck to look at him briefly before scurrying away.

As he keeps going, the river gets wider and he starts noticing things on the snow. It would be hasty to call them footprints –if they were, they have completely lost their shape from the snow melting, but there are traces of something that doesn't look like animal tracks. There is no clear path either, but at some points, he could almost imagine two humans walking side by side. He increases the pace, patting Agape's neck twice and promising to give her a treat later. The traces become more and more frequent until he can actually make out a footprint. A human footprint!

He climbs down from Agape's back and kneels next to the footprint. It's from an adult, foot of average size, the winter boots don't help in making out any specific feature. It's more likely that this foot belongs to a hunter or a fisherman looking for thinner ice than his runaway winter dancers. He gets back on his feet, hoping to find another hint nonetheless, but something bumps into him and throws him off balance, making him fall down on his knees.

"What the hell," he groans. His knees fell right on top of the footprint. There goes his only lead.

"Watch where you're—" the other person halts mid-sentence, as if they choked on air, "Pr—Captain Plisetsky!"

Yuri groans again as he back on his feet and looks at the man. He's short and looks of about the same age as his grandfather. The top of his head is completely devoid of hair, his eyes are small and a deep blue. His clothes don't seem of the kind a hunter or a fisherman would wear. They're not excessively luxurious, but they don't look like the rags of a peasant either.

"Forgive me, Captain, I was careless." The man says, his voice rough and rushed. He looks very visibly uncomfortable, doing everything he can to avoid eye contact, "I shall lea—"

"Hold on," There it is again, that gut feeling. With his eyes fixed on the man to make sure he doesn't run away, Yuri steps back to his travel bag, pulling out the Wanted posters. "Have you seen or heard of any of these men?" he asks, showing him the pictures of Yuuri Katsuki and his companions.

The man grabs the posters, his eyes widen as he inspects the images and names on them. His fingers tighten on the pages. "I'm afraid not, Captain. I have never seen any of this people."

He's lying, Yuri knows. Like Lady Katsuki before, this man is lying. Do people think he won't see through their lies?

"Are you sure about that, sir?"

The man swallows. He looks troubled. His body shakes, he seems tired and malnourished, his eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. Like he hasn't slept or eaten properly in days. He paints a pitiful picture, a man defeated after a lifelong struggle with something Yuri can't come close to imagining. There's something about him that makes him think of his grandfather. Yuri bites his lip.

"I see, thank you for your cooperation." He says at last, grabbing the posters from the old man's hands. He rummages through his travel bag again and pulls out a loaf of bread he had been saving for his dinner. "It will get colder later, you should keep yourself well fed," he states, trying to sound nonchalant.

With a surprised expression, the man takes the piece of bread. He smiles fondly and it makes Yuri's stomach twist uncomfortably. "I am pleased to see the rumors about Captain Plisetsky's kindness were true after all." He says.

Yuri huffs, climbing back on Agape, ignoring the blush on his cheeks. What this man calls kindness is the same softness that has landed him in his current predicament. It's not something he wants to be praised for given the circumstances.

The man scurries away into the forest. In his gut, Yuri is certain that the man knew much more than he admitted to. He brushes the thought aside and snaps the reins to make Agape continue marching along the riverbank. They pass a ridge and a cave; inside of it, clear evidence of someone spending the night there. It can't be a coincidence. He's more certain than ever that he's on the right track. The scene looks like it was abandoned in a hurry and the tracks in the area are too convoluted to make up where the people who had set a fire in this cave last night had gone.

The river keeps growing wider as it gets further and further away from the main road. By the time the sun has begun setting and Yuri has to stop the search to make a shelter for the night, not only is the river wide enough that Agape wouldn't be able to jump to the other side, but the ice is also thick and covering all the surface, as far as Yuri's eyes can reach.

Even in the brutal winter, walking over a frozen river is thought to be a summoning on bad luck. Ice is, after all, fickle and unpredictable, slippery, prone to cracking. It's the reason winter dancers used to be so beloved by the people. They possess the magic to tame the ice, to bend it to their will and use it to create something beautiful and sublime. The first time he ever saw a winter dancer, he'd been completely entranced by the musicality of their body, their grace, their confidence. For many years, he practiced and practiced, dreaming that he too would be able to craft that same magic on the ice.

Then the prohibition came, and that dream was smashed to smithereens. As his grandfather aged and his body became frailer, the crown started demanding steeper and steeper tributes, so Yuri came to the conclusion that becoming a knight was the only path he could take to ensure he would be able to take care of his grandfather. He found himself as prodigious with the sword as he was comfortable taking command, and so in spite of his unremarkable bloodline, he rose through the ranks quickly and earned the respect and recognition of the people and the other knights.

Yuri sighs and watches the orange light of the setting sun glimmering on the ice. He clutches the wanted posters in his hand, biting his lip. Tentatively, he hops off Agape's back, letting the posters drop on the snow as he digs through his travel bag, quickly finding what he was looking for.

His grandfather gave them to him as an early birthday gift.

"These are illegal, grandpa" Yuri had said, weakly.

"Oh, really? I wasn't aware. Just like I am certainly not aware of how you've worn down your last pair. Or the one before that."

He shouldn't be carrying these things either, yet here they are. Easy to find for anyone who got even mildly curious about the contents of his bag. Something to put an end to his spotless career in the Royal Guard in a blink and get him thrown in jail.

Dancing blades.

Before he can think twice about it, he removes his sword and cape, toes off his boots and kneels down to put on the blades. He hasn't used them since he got them from his grandfather, so they feel a bit stiff and tight, but not unbearably so. He wobbles to the edge of the frozen river, tentatively touching the ice with the blade, stepping back, leaning on the ice a bit harder to see if it cracks. It doesn't.

Yuri takes a deep breath and finally steps into the ice. The surface isn't completely smooth, the river runs rather violently in this area so there are a few bumps, but it's still good enough to dance. Since his appointment as captain, he has had very little time to do this, but the ice still feels familiar and welcoming. It calms him and excites him at the same time. In his childhood, he had dreamed of making the ice his home. How would his young self react if he knew how far he had veered from that path?

He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander to the past, to the winter dancer he has admired all his life. He glides over the ice, listens to the sound of the wind, the leaves, the music of his dancing blades carving paths across the frozen river. The cold air bites his nose and his cheeks, his eyes sting. Briefly, he allows himself to wonder how different his life would be if he had become a winter dancer. If he'd decided to ignore the prohibition and live in hiding in exchange for mastering that musical grace he had chased for so long. Maybe he would be part of Yuuri Katsuki's runaway troupe and get to know a different side of this realm, to be seen by people with excitement and admiration rather than fearful respect.

There's a bump on the ice that makes him trip and fall hard on his side. He groans, the fantastical musings completely gone as he pushes himself up. Probably this was as good a sign that he was never meant to become a winter dancer. He should stop wasting time and focus on the mission so he can go back home to his grandfather and—

A loud, screeching crack reaches his ear. He stands, paralyzed, and barely has time to look down at his feet, to the deep, thick crack on the surface on the ice. He jolts, but as soon as he tries to pull his right foot away from the crack, the ice breaks even further. Through the crack, Yuri can see the water of the river. Before he can try to think of a way to get himself out of this safely, the ice gives in under his feet and he's immediately submerged in freezing cold water. His limbs start aching instantly, the cold seeping straight into his bones. He tries to pull himself out of the water, but the dancing blades are heavy and drag him down. He kicks and struggles, his body growing number by the second. Agape neighs in the distance. With his last strength, he grabs onto the edge of the cracked ice and manages to force his head out of the water for a gulp of air. But when he tries to get his other hand to hold on the edge, his arm doesn't respond. His legs stop kicking. He can't feel any of his limbs and even the air he breathes freezes his lungs. His body goes limp and his eyes start feeling so, so heavy. A nagging voice in the back of his head screams at him to stay awake, but he feels so tired, and his body is so heavy and cold. There's another voice far, far away, a voice that sounds familiar yet strange, and he can't make out what it's saying. It's hard to keep his eyes open. Just ten seconds. He can close his eyes ten seconds and then…

The first twinges of orange tint the sky. Victor bites his lip, trying to think of something to talk about. Yuuri has had his nose buried in his map for hours, and although the silence isn't awkward, Victor has spent too many years in silence and solitude, so it inevitably makes him feel uneasy. The river runs close to their path, wider now than ever, its surface completely frozen, and it gives Victor an idea.

"Yuu—"

"Oh!"

Before he can even begin to speak, Yuuri jolts and rushes forward, folding the map away. Makkachin woofs and bounces behind him, until they reach a large tree. Its trunk is the thickest in the area, probably thick enough that Victor's arms wouldn't be enough to go around it. As he approaches it, he notices the markings on the bark, like scratches made by an animal with massive claws.

Yuuri touches the markings, mumbling to himself, and turns away from the tree. To Victor's surprise, the next thing he does is get down on his knees and pat the ground before he starts pushing snow away with his hands. Makkachin joins in enthusiastically, digging into the snow

"What's wrong?" Victor asks, alarmed and confused. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to use my hair?"

As if suddenly remembering Victor is there, Yuuri looks up and blinks. "Oh, no, nothing. Just… we're here."

Victor cocks his head. "Here?"

"Yes, the shelter. We'll be safe spending the night here."

Bewildered by the reply, Victor kneels next to Yuuri, unable to mask the concern on his face. "Yuuri, are you sure you feel alright? There is… no shelter here" he waves his arms to signal the empty clearing they're standing in, nothing but snow, trees and the frozen river.

To his surprise, Yuuri laughs and continues removing the snow, uncovering the earth beneath it. He doesn't stop there though, instead continues digging and pushing the dirt aside. Victor is beginning to feel concerned about Yuuri's sanity –has his mind been taken by an ancient spirit?- when wooden boards become visible through the removed dirt and snow.

"Help me out a little" he says, and Victor's eyes widen when he makes out the shape of the large, round wooden lid, camouflaged with some leftover pieces of dirt that seem to be completely adhered to the wood, as well as patches of dry grass and leaves. Victor finally helps Yuuri push the lid aside, and he gasps when he sees the deep hole that is revealed underneath. It's too dark and too deep to see where it ends, but near the edge where they're kneeling, Victor sees the top of a ladder.

"What is this?" he asks, mouth agape with awe.

"A shelter, I told you. We built it a long time ago, when the prohibition was first decreed. We haven't used it in years, but it should be good enough to spend the night, we won't be seen and it'll be warmer than staying out here. And Novgorod is just a couple of hours away walking, we'll get there with time to spare for the festival tomorrow." Yuuri explains with a satisfied grin on his face.

Among many other things, Victor has come to know that there are many, many different sides to Yuuri. Quite often, there's the Yuuri that is insecure, that constantly doubts himself, the Yuuri that is always afraid of showing his weakness and doesn't see how amazing he really is, the Yuuri that makes Victor want to hold him close and never let go. But there are rare moments in which Yuuri just lets loose and shows his more confident side, the blazing pride that lives within him, the passion for what he does and his ambition in chasing his dreams, it's the Yuuri that danced with him the night he first arrived in his tower and showed Victor a world of surprises and possibilities, the Yuuri that Victor chose to entrust with his life and dreams. Seeing that side of Yuuri always makes Victor's heart jump. And getting to know all these different facets of Yuuri also gives him the feeling that he couldn't possibly be any luckier. It really must have been a gift from the Moon, to let Yuuri find his tower just a few nights ago and bring them in this adventure.

"Victor? Could you hold this for me? It's really dark down there and I need to check if everything's in order before you can come down too." Yuuri asks, holding a lit torch. Victor didn't even realize when he made it, but he scrambles to grab it and nods. The warmth of the fire helps him ignore the heat on his cheeks. "Okay, I'm going down there to make sure everything is alright before you can come in. Just hold the light above the entrance, I don't want to trip, it's quite deep." He chuckles as he starts climbing down the ladder.

Victor holds the flame above the hole and watches intently as Yuuri keeps climbing down. Makkachin whines and woofs, pawing at the edge of the shoot as if he wanted to go with Yuuri too. Victor pats his head. "It's okay Makkachin, we'll go with Yuuri soon." He says, reassuringly. It's a bit funny that even Makkachin has gotten so attached to Yuuri. "He really did change our lives completely, didn't he?" he muses, remembering what he'd told Chris and Phichit last night. He remembers the promise they made earlier, of traveling to Yuuri's homeland after the festival. It fills him with excitement, to think of how wide the world is and how he'll finally be able to explore it.

"Victor!"

Once again, he's pulled out of his musings by Yuuri's voice, this time much more distant than before. He looks over the edge, still holding the fire and sees Yuuri standing way at the bottom of the pit, waving his arms. It is quite deep, maybe more than twice Victor's height.

"Yuuri! Is everything alright?"

Yuuri nods. "It's bit dusty, but it'll work! There's a pile of firewood next to you, throw it down so I can start a fire!"

Victor blinks, perplexed, and looks to his side to find that, indeed, there is a sizable pile of wood right next to him. When did Yuuri get this ready? He's more distracted than usual today, it would seem. He shakes his head to force himself to concentrate and grabs the pile of wood. "I'm throwing it now! Get out of the way!" he calls and waits for Yuuri to step aside before pushing the wood down the pit. A moment later he hears it clatter on the ground and sees Yuuri picking it up and disappearing again.

It takes a little while longer during which Makkachin digs through the snow, whining. Victor wonders if he should get worried about such a deep attachment.

"How do we bring Makkachin down here?" Yuuri asks when he reappears, his voice echoing up the pit.

Victor grins. "I know just the way!"

It takes a bit of struggling to get Makkachin hoisted down the pit, held with Victor's long hair. The dog whines and woofs, clearly scared of the growing darkness and the long fall, but between the two of them they manage to reassure him until he reaches the ground, and he seems to forget all of it immediately, pouncing Yuuri down the moment his paws touch the earth. Victor comes down next, after heeding Yuuri's instructions to conceal the entrance to their hideout without completely sealing it off so the smoke from the fire won't get trapped inside. It is a bit odd to him, even ironic, that just a few days ago he hesitated to take the jump from the top of his tower to the great world outside, and now he's climbing down into an underground refuge. The thought of it makes him feel trapped for a moment, and he's almost of a second mind to climb back outside, where he can smell the snow and the trees and feel the cold wind on his face. But when Yuuri takes his hand to help him off the ladder and asks if he's alright, all those doubts and fears dissipate. Even without a physical refuge, he'd feel unquestionably safe just looking into Yuuri's eyes.

The interior is surprisingly spacious, all things considered. The ceiling is even high enough that Victor doesn't hit his head with it, although it's hard to move around without stepping on his own hair, and he can see parts the tree's thick roots above their heads. Yuuri has lit a few torches and placed them along the walls. The warm glow of the fire makes it feel cozy and echoes the golden sunset that is currently happening outside. Which brings Victor to what he had tried to tell Yuuri before they reached the shelter.

"So, Yuuri, don't you think it's a perfect opportunity to make good on my promise? To teach you about winter dancing?"

Yuuri drops whatever he's doing and turns to look at him, not responding. He blinks in blank perplexity for a moment before his cheeks take on a sweet pink blush.

"I already told you, you don't have to repay me, I'm doing all this because I want to."

Victor grins. "And I want to see you dance again and teach you the things I know." He says, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

It makes Yuuri's blush turn brighter, but he remains stubborn, waving his hands dismissively. "You saw enough pathetic flailing from me yesterday, you shouldn't subject yourself to it again."

"Yuuuuuri" Victor whines playfully, taking long strides through the room to reach him "It was not pathetic, I told you already! You have a unique charm when you dance, I want to show you how you can make the best out of it!" He reaches out with one hand, hoping Yuuri will reciprocate. "Let's go out there to dance, Yuuri!"

Much to his disappointment, Yuuri steps back and looks away. "It's not a good idea, you'd waste your time. Let's just—"

"But Yuuri!" Victor steps forward and grabs his wrist "You don't honestly believe that, do you? The people don't believe that for sure. They wouldn't have given you the name of the god of love and sex if they weren't enthralled by your dance. You're—"

"Just leave it alone, Victor!"

Victor recoils. Yuuri had never yelled at him. But he can't even start to process that, because Yuuri's angry expression falls immediately and turns utterly devastated and regretful. "I'm—I'm sorry I didn't mean—" Yuuri stutters before turning away without finishing the sentence and strolls towards the ladder, climbing up to the surface.

Victor bites his lip. What has he done?

Yuuri buries his face in his hands, his stomach curling with regret and dread. He fucked up. He yelled at Victor and fucked everything up. It's not Victor's fault that he can't control his frustration at his own failures. He knows Victor means well, and he has never seen a winter dancer as skilled and talented as Victor, he could learn so much from him. But the idea of showing that vulnerable, flawed side of him terrified him. As a winter dancer, he's never done anything of note, he's always been dragging Phichit and Chris down. And it makes him angry, that he practices so much, that he tries so hard, that he loves the ice so much, but he never feels strong enough to stand on it, to exert that magic that gifted dancers possess over it.

And even though all those insecurities and frustrations are no one else's but his, he still yelled at Victor. It hasn't been a full day since Victor got mad at him for lying, and now he has pushed him away when he was just trying to be helpful. There's no way Victor will still want to make that long journey to Yamato with him.

Someone plops to sit next to him. Yuuri doesn't raise his gaze, his heart clenching. He hopes against all hopes, that at least Victor will give him the chance to apologize and fulfill his promise of taking him to the festival, but he'll understand if he decides to continue on his own.

"I really like the snow." Victor says out of the blue. "Snow would pile on my windowsill and I could touch it and feel a little bit closer to the world outside. Even now, after being surrounded by snow for days, it still feels nostalgic."

Yuuri finally looks up with his eyes wide open, catching only the briefest glimpse of Victor's peaceful and thoughtful expression.

"I like snow too." He decides to say. "The first snow meant the streams and lakes would start to freeze over and that I could dance once again. I waited the rest of the year for the snow to come." He folds his knees and hugs them. "But on the ice… everyone can see how weak I am, how easily I fall apart. I hate that."

"You're not weak at all, Yuuri; I've seen how strong you are. On and off the ice. And I can tell your mom and dad, your sister, Lady Minako, your friends, they all think the same. I've seen your winter dance, I've heard the music you make with your body. Even when you fall, you get back on your feet, what's stronger than that?"

Yuuri's heart beats faster, his cheeks grow warmer. Even if they're just words, Yuuri feels he might be able to believe them, if only for this brief moment.

"I want to help you feel stronger, Yuuri. And I've been thinking, last night, when Chris asked me and I told him that you changed my life. I meant that. But I want to do something, be something for you. What do you think Yuuri? What do you want me to be to you?"

Hesitantly, Yuuri's gaze shifts once more, sideways to catch a glimpse of Victor's face. Their eyes meet for a moment, and his heart jumps. What should he say? What can Victor be for him?

"I couldn't be your father because we're around the same age; nor your brother because I don't understand a lot about families. Maybe a friend?"

Yuuri chews on his bottom lip. Surprising himself, he shakes his head. It's not right, that word. Not for Victor.

"A mentor?"

He shakes his head again. Even if he ever gets the courage to take Victor's advice and teachings, that word wouldn't suit him either.

The sun continues to set as they sit in contemplative silence.

"I could be your prince."

He says it casually, but the tone is off. Wistful but bleak.

"I'll try my best, even if I can't be the Lost Prince of your dreams."

In that moment, Yuuri jolts and gets back on his feet and finally looks at Victor's face straight. "No!" he exclaims, furrowing his brows. Has Victor really been preoccupying himself, thinking he needs to fit in a neat established role to make Yuuri happy? "You're not… I've never wanted you to be something you're not!" A prince? Why would he even think Yuuri wants him to be a prince? "I've… I've been pushing you away because I didn't want you to see… this," he signs to his whole body with his hands. "My flaws, my weaknesses. I didn't want you to be disappointed. I wanted—" Oh. He's been wanting to be the hero Victor thinks he is. Just like Victor wants to find a role that will make Yuuri happy. How dumb they are.

What are you two?

That question was never meant to be answered. There was no answer, no label. They never needed one.

"I just want you to stay who you are, Victor."

Victor's eyes widen briefly and he inhales sharply, red roses blossoming on his cheeks. And then, his expression brightens, his lips curl slowly into that beautiful, blinding smile, that makes Yuuri's stomach flutter. "Alright." Victor stretches his hand out at Yuuri, and this time, Yuuri does take it. "You better not regret it when you get all of me."

He uses Yuuri's arm as leverage to pull himself back on his feet and Yuuri gasps at the sudden pull and weight. When he stands, he does it so close to Yuuri, the tips of their feet are almost touching. And their noses too, Yuuri notices now. Victor's eyes look beautiful up close, deep, sparkling blue. Like stars. In spite of the biting cold, his lips look smooth and soft. The thought of tasting them crosses his mind again, the same questions and musings he had last night.

He wonders if Victor expected a kiss back then. If he expects it now.

A scream in the distance breaks the silence. They both jolt in surprise and step back from each other. Yuuri's cheeks burn. He briefly wonders if Victor is disappointed, but he doesn't mull on it after he hears the frantic screams that sound a lot like a horse's neighing, coming from not too far downstream. A horse shouldn't be alone this deep in the forest, and at such a late hour. Something's wrong.

"The horse could be hurt. Or its rider."

It doesn't take them a long time to find the origin of the noise. There's a white mare by the river, kicking and neighing frantically. Yuuri's eyes immediately go to the frozen water and find the surface cracked, and a large hole on the ice a few meters from the riverbank. And holding on to the edge of the hole, he sees pale fingers.

"Victor!" he shrieks, "There's someone in there! Help me, we have to get them out now!"

Victor freezes for a moment, his eyes growing wide with horror as he too takes in the situation. "There's a rope in—"

"There's no time!" He reaches his hand towards Victor. "I have to go there to get them out, but the ice is brittle, I can't put a lot of weight on it. I need you to hold on to me and pull us out when I tell you to."

Victor nods in understanding, grasping Yuuri's hand firmly. Yuuri feels him tremble, his eyes give away how scared he is. Yuuri is scared too, but he doesn't have the luxury of contemplating about it.

He swallows thickly and takes his first tentative step. As a fugitive winter dancer, he's had to skate on all sorts of ice, from thick and smooth to thin and rugged. He's had ice crack under his dancing blades and he knows the essential about how to prevent cracked ice to give in on you, but he's never seen anyone actually fall into the freezing water underneath, let alone attempt to rescue them. He knows every second is crucial, but he's shaking from head to toe, trying to move as quickly as possible without worsening the situation. The ice crackles loudly and his heart stops.

"It's okay, Yuuri, I got you."

He turns back to find Victor's eyes, still clouded with fear, but his expression is firm and determined, his hands clasped tightly around Yuuri's, like he's trying his best to give Yuuri confidence. And it works. Yuuri realizes how, as absurd as it is, given the circumstances, he is convinced that his life is safe in Victor's hands.

It takes him a few more steps to finally reach the opening on the ice. The fingers on the edge look rigid and the skin is turning blue. Yuuri leans in and tugs on the person's wrist, hoping for a reaction, but none comes. He pulls and pulls, but he barely manages to bring the top of the person's head to the surface. He doesn't have enough strength in one arm to pull the person out, and his grasp isn't good enough to feel confident that he can bring them along if he tells Victor to pull them out. There is only one option.

"Victor, let go of my hand." he says, his voice shaking.

Victor's eyes widen in bewilderment "What are you talking about?! Hurry, Yuuri, the cracks are growing!"

Up until that moment, Yuuri had ignored the crackling and quaking of the ice under his feet, but he now notices the cracks have grown so much, they're almost reaching the ground where Victor stands. "Let go!"

"Never!" Victor yells stubbornly.

If the ice collapses like this, even Victor could get sucked in. Yuuri won't allow it. With all the strength he can muster, he forces his hand free of Victor's grasp. The sounds of the ice crackling and the mare neighing and Victor screaming are deafening. With both hands he pulls hard on the person's arm and manages to finally bring their head out of the water, but the body remains submerged. His stomach flips as the ice gives in under his feet, the bottom of his shoes hit the freezing water. He barely has enough time to look back at the river bank, at Victor's horrified expression, and let his heart sink in regret. He won't be able to fulfill their promise after all.

His stomach flips upside down once more, but instead of crashing into the ice cold river, he feels the air punched out of his chest as he gets pulled harshly, his hands never letting go of the other person. The back of his head collides with something hard and the world spins and spins around him.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, answer me!"

His eyes haven't regained focus, but the sound of Victor's voice jolts him nonetheless. "Victor?"

Tight arms wrap around his torso. The cold that had seeped into his body from the ice and the freezing river is instantly overcome by the warmth of the embrace. The shivers that were racking his body slowly dissipate.

"Don't ever do something like that again!"

In spite of the dizziness and the temptation of just sinking into that warm embrace, he forces himself to mumble. "I couldn't leave them there..."

Victor just holds him tighter. "Just don't."

"I just don't… How did you even…?" How had Victor saved him?

With a light shrug, Victor twirls his fingers in his hair.

Yuuri is a bit too numb to fully comprehend what it means. "Your hair is… pretty convenient, huh?" strong enough to carry two adult-sized human bodies nonetheless.

As his mind regains more clarity, the moment of bliss and peacefulness vanishes in a blink. "W-what happened with-?!"

Victor loosens his embrace, but doesn't entirely give up on holding him, keeping Yuuri close as he points with his finger. Not more than a few paces away, the person they had rescued was lying on the snow, the mare sitting next to them, huffing softly and licking their face, probably hoping to share her body heat.

Ignoring Victor's protests, Yuuri finally gets up –even though his head still spins- and stumbles to where the mare and the person are. Their skin is impossibly pale, although it seems to be slowly regaining color. Their hair is chin-length and pale blond, their limbs long and thin.

Yuuri gasps. It doesn't take long to find the crest on the boy's chest.

"Captain Yuri Plisetsky".

To be continued