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Yuuri, tangled and hidden inside a window curtain, can only gape with mortification at the silhouette on the other side.
“You want to what?” He blurts, certain that such an incredulous tone is probably rude to use against the king, but it’s too late for that now.
“I want to get to know you better!” King Victor chirps, as carefree as ever. Yuuri feels the curtain nearly give way under his fingers, but he hastily yanks them back into place, keeping himself firmly cocooned inside. No matter how much Victor tries to unwrap him, Yuuri stubbornly maintains his burrito form. “Yuuri,” Victor whines, in a rather un-kingly way. He can practically hear the pout in the man’s voice. “Why won’t you come out? Let’s get to know each other before the wedding, what do you say?”
“What do you mean, ‘why won’t you come out’?!” Yuuri sputters, nearly tripping himself on the hem of the curtain. “We can’t see each other yet, Victor!”
“Oh, right,” Victor says. As if forgetting a royal wedding tradition spanning generations is no big deal.
How on Earth has this man survived as king for so long if he forgets decorum left and right? One of the simplest expectations for a royal wedding in Victor’s court is that the betrothed don’t see each other on the day of the wedding until they’re at the altar. It’s such a well known rule that even Yuuri, who’s not yet a member of that court, knows it!
Thankfully, though, Victor has stopped tugging on the curtain now that he’s been reminded of the tradition. An involuntary sigh of relief escapes Yuuri. After spending all day preparing for the wedding, dressing himself in stuffy outfits and surrounding himself with people frantically racing to and fro, his stress and anxiety boiled to a melting point. A wedding is a nerve-wracking event in anyone’s life—especially when you’re a prince in an arranged marriage to a foriegn king that you’ve never even spoken to. Needless to say, Yuuri needed to escape—even if just for an hour—so he slipped away from the chaos and snuck into another room.
When he’d hurried inside, he thought it was just another room. He’s not yet familiar enough with Victor’s castle to know the layout yet, but he had no reason to believe that he’d walked straight into Victor’s room. It was only when he saw the man sitting at a desk with his back facing him that he realized his mistake.
He’d dove behind the curtain just in the knick of time, hiding himself before Victor fully turned around. He’d stuttered an apology and an explanation, mentally cursing himself for already breaching tradition just by catching a glimpse of Victor. For a moment, he worried that Victor might be furious. He even wondered if he’d botched the whole alliance. But then Victor laughed and began pulling on the curtains, like he just was, asking Yuuri to come out.
“Please just let me go,” Yuuri moans pathetically. It’s dark and stuffy in this thick curtain. It makes his wedding attire feel even heavier. “Just—just turn around! And I’ll cover my eyes, and walk out the door, and—”
“I have an idea! Why don’t we go down to the beach? We can sneak out, so no one else will know that we’re breaking the rules,” Victor suggests, his carefree voice bubbling over Yuuri’s. Yuuri wants to bang his head against the wall. “I mean, you’ve already seen me, and I caught a glimpse of your boot. We might as well scrap the whole tradition and see each other face to face.”
Yuuri can’t believe his ears. Victor wants to what? Right now? Why?!
Already, Yuuris is getting the very distinct impression that Victor doesn’t really care too much for formalities and tradition. As if it wasn’t obvious by now. He’s probably the type of person to get his head lost in the clouds yet still manage to be the best at absolutely everything he does. Just the thought of Victor being so effortlessly successful makes Yuuri cringe with insecurity and slight envy. But who is he to say how hard Victor does or doesn’t work? Victor isn’t the king of one of the most flourishing kingdoms by chance, after all. As effortless as Victor may make things seem, Yuuri knows there has to be a ton of work that goes into it all behind closed doors. Chances are, Victor works harder than anyone Yuuri has ever met. Not that he’d know, of course, considering they know next to nothing about each other.
...Which kind of supports Victor’s point of tossing out tradition and getting to know each other…
Gah! What is he thinking?! Does he want to piss off every other member of Victor’s court?!
As tempted as Yuuri is to beg Victor to go away or just crumple into a miserable heap of anxiety and stress, he manages to hold himself together and consider his options. If he weren’t marrying Victor in an hour, he’d honestly be thrilled at the opportunity to go anywhere with him. Or, maybe he’d be just as anxious. Yuuri has long admired Victor as a ruler and has attempted to mirror him in his own princely duties. A chance to spend some time with his idol, alone, could just be a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even though they’re getting married, that doesn’t mean they’re guaranteed time together.
In all honesty, he kinda wishes they’d had the chance to get to know each other better before their engagement. As much as Yuuri admires Victor’s prowess as king, he doesn’t know much else about him. He knows a lot about King Victor—his policies, his diplomacy, his reforms—but he knows next to nothing about just Victor. He wishes he knew Victor’s favorite food, or the way his voice sounds when he sings, or all his other oddities and quirks. Even the smallest personal detail would make him feel all the more better.
Without thinking, Yuuri pulls the curtain away from his face, just slightly. It’s only enough to peek out and see the sideswept, silvery bangs shining on Victor’s forehead, but even that much is enough to make him swallow nervously.
“...Okay,” he says, after a long moment.
“Okay?” Victor repeats, confused.
“We can go down to the beach,” Yuuri responds, cautiously shuffling out of the curtains, “and get to know each other.”
Immediately, Victor’s face lights up like sunshine.
Even without seeing Victor’s whole face, Yuuri can tell that it’s lighting up like the sun. His joy is so bright, it’s almost blinding. And infectious, it seems, as Yuuri’s heart flutters at the sight.
“You mean it? We can really go?” Victor asks, hope aching in his voice. Flushing, Yuuri nods. Immediately, Victor goes right back to tugging on the curtain, singing, “Alright then, let’s go!”
Yuuri’s heart leaps into his throat and he sputters, “Victor, wait—!”
He has no idea what he was asking Victor to wait for (or why he even thought it would work), but the realization that he’d soon be face-to-face with his idol/fiancé/childhood crush dawned on him the moment Victor stripped the curtain away. Now that he’s standing in the middle of Victor’s room with nothing to hide behind, he feels impossible bare—even though he’s wearing his full wedding attire.
Victor is wearing his wedding clothes, too. And he looks…
Well. Ahem. He looks…
Amazing.
Victor wears a glittering white and gold tunic, the gold embroidered into intricate decorations along his chest. His pants are matching, with gold decorating the outside seams and the hem. The outfit is perfectly tailored to fit the mold of his body, showing off his lean and sculpted figure. There isn’t a single wrinkle or crease in the fabric, as if imperfection simply can’t exist on The Victor Nikiforov’s body. A golden crown shines on top of his head. It makes him look effortlessly graceful.
Meanwhile, Victor is staring at him with wide blue eyes. “You look incredible,” he utters, almost breathlessly.
Yuuri hastily looks away before the red hot blush takes over his entire face. He has yet to feel entirely comfortable in his own wedding attire, but when Victor looks at him like that, he can’t help the flutter in his chest. He knows he doesn’t look bad, not at all, but he’s note sure he looks good enough to warrant such astonishment from Victor. He at least knows that his dark black and gray robes match his hair and make his eyes pop—at least, according to his mom, they do.
...On second thought, she’s probably more than a little biased.
Still, Victor just paid him a compliment. A very kind one, too.
“Thank you,” he responds, his cheeks still warm. “You look incredible as well.”
Victor seems to recover himself from whatever trance he’d fallen into, winking and offering Yuuri his arm. “So charming! To the beach?”
Swallowing, Yuuri nods and takes Victor’s arm. The feeling of Victor’s arm in his sends a jolt through his heart. This might be the first time they’ve ever touched one and other. Victor feels firm yet soft all at once. Yuuri doesn’t know why that contradiction excites him so much.
They slip out of the bedroom just as a guard passes by. Before they can be spotted, they press themselves flat behind a statue, holding their breath until the footsteps grow distant in another corridor. When the coast is clear, Victor smiles down at him. It’s a blinding, breathtaking kind of smile. Yuuri’s heart flutters as Victor takes him by the hand and hurries them out of the hallway.
As they sneak their way through the palace, Yuuri can’t help but steal glances at Victor from time to time. Each glimpse makes his already racing heart speed up. As they pass through a hall of stained glass windows, a flood of colors cascade over Victor, glimmering in the gold of his wedding clothes. It reminds Yuuri of a mystical kaleidoscope, making Victor look like an ethereal seraph of light. Yet, despite the dazzling colors reflecting over his body, it’s his eyes that really draw Yuuri in. No matter what color washes over them, the endless blue always prevails. Sometimes it’s tinted in orange or purple or pink, but just like the ocean at sunset, the deep blue remains. Looking into those eyes makes Yuuri want to do very, very stupid things.
Seeing him like this makes Yuuri wonder how on Earth he ended up in this situation. Why would King Victor want to marry Yuuri, who’s just another prince out of dozens to choose from? Of course, there’s the alliance, but his and Victor’s kingdoms have long been allies, long enough that there isn’t much need for a marriage to secure the bond. Still, maintaining the alliance was the excuse Victor’s court provided when they presented Yuuri’s family with the marriage proposal, but Yuuri could tell that even they were scratching their heads over Victor’s… unconventional choice.
Victor could have any prince or princess (likely with much more advantageous benefits, too), but he chose Yuuri. Yuuri tries not to read too deep into why that might be, lest his farfetched romantic hopes get the best of him. Perhaps Victor really does want to strengthen their alliance. It wouldn’t be unheard of. And it would certainly be an explanation. Chances are, Victor chose him both for the alliance and for the sake of safety. If Victor had been pressured by his court to marry, he’d likely want to marry someone that he knew he could trust. Yuuri would like to think that although they don’t know all that much about each other, Victor—at the very least— can trust him more than any other marriage candidates. Their kingdoms’ long-standing alliance can at least contribute that much.
As Yuuri is lost in thought, they eventually turn into another corridor. Victor releases his hand, and Yuuri tries not to be too disappointed. He instead focuses his attention on Victor, who is peering around the corner with a thoughtful frown on his face, biting his lip in consternation. Yuuri stares.
“It’s no good,” Victor sighs, despondent. Gesturing around the corner, he explains, “The guards won’t be moving anytime soon.”
Yuuri takes a step closer, peeking around the corner. Sure enough, the palace gates are heavily guarded—likely in anticipation for the upcoming ceremony. If they want to go outside, they won’t be able to go through there.
Looking around, Yuuri searches for another option before his eyes land on a nearby window. It’s smaller and much more plain than the elaborate stained glass windows, only serving to let in a little sunlight and likely a cool breeze whenever it’s opened. It’s not open now, though, but it only takes a few seconds of grappling with the window lock before Yuuri pries it open.
A sweet, salty summer’s breeze flows through the open window. Yuuri pokes his head out and sees the white beach sprawling out before him, the ocean’s waves rolling gently to shore. When he looks down, he notices a sturdy looking mass of vines crawling up the wall.
“This way,” he declares, already taking a step onto the window sill.
“Out the window?” Victor asks, surprised. His tone makes Yuuri pause and realize just how strange it is to climb through someone else’s window. Yet, Victor doesn’t look incredulous or affronted. Instead, a smile stretches onto his face as he says, “I should’ve known you were the bold type.”
Yuuri flushes. He has no idea what to say to that, so he can only offer a hand and ask, “Are you coming?”
Yuuri feels incredibly awkward and stiff as Victor takes his hand, but Victor continues to smile like he’s the most graceful thing in the world.
Slow and cautious, they make their way down the vines. Yuuri is careful to test their strength to make sure both he and Victor can climb down them in succession, because he has the sneaking suspicion that Victor wouldn’t think to consider what the vines can support. The last thing Yuuri wants is for the wedding to end prematurely because Victor fell into the rose bushes.
When Yuuri touches the ground, Victor is still a few feet above him. Yuui takes a step back to give him plenty of space to land, but Victor seems to have other ideas.
“Yuuri!” He calls, stretching out the syllables of his name. “Catch me!”
He doesn’t get enough time to tell Victor how stupid of an idea that is, because Victor promptly lets go of the vine and falls back. Flailing, Yuuri races forward with his arms outstretched, snatching Victor out of midair just in time. Unfortunately, in his anxious haste, he runs a little too fast and ends up crashing them both against the palace wall.
He groans, fixing his glasses. Meanwhile, Victor drops his head back against the stone wall and laughs, his arms wrapped around Yuuri’s neck. When Yuuri looks up at him, he can’t tell whether he wants to frown at him or laugh along. He settles instead for shaking his head and smiling in spite of himself before letting Victor down.
As soon as they’re back on the ground, Victor takes Yuuri’s hand back in his and leads them toward the shoreline. The sound of crashing waves is loud in Yuuri’s ears, and the sun shines warmly down on him. It’s a delightful scene. He wants nothing more than to bask in the radiance of it all.
It’s strange to think that this place will soon be his home. But based on what he’s seeing so far, he thinks he’ll like it here. The beaches around Victor’s palace aren’t unlike the beaches back home. The smell of the ocean and the reflection of the sun is the very same. The temperature is the only thing that is a little different, but even then, Yuuri doesn’t mind. The sheer beauty of the landscape erases any qualms about the weather.
He could get used to this.
Victor pulls them over to a patch of beach hidden behind a cove of trees. There’s an oddly shaped tree in the center of the cluster, with a thick trunk branching out nearly parallel to the ground. With the practiced ease of someone who has walked this very path countless times before, Victor leads them to sit on the trunk. As Yuuri settles down beside him, he wonders how many times Victor has come to this very spot. Did he sneak away here as a child? Does he still use this place to hide away from the world? What kind of memories does he have here?
As if proving his point, Victor turns to rummage through the bushes, murmuring to himself, “I have a bottle of wine stashed… somewhere… in here…”
Just the thought of drinking before the wedding makes Yuuri’s anxiety spike. He can already imagine himself getting carried away and drinking too much, and then making a complete fool of himself at the wedding…
If that happened, he’d never survive the embarrassment and public shame.
“I shouldn’t drink,” he quickly protests as soon as Victor retrieves the bottle from his hidden stash. Victo gives him a questioning look, his head tilting and his eyes wide with innocent curiosity. “I, um. Tend to go overboard when I’ve had too much to drink.”
“Oh, right,” Victor says. Oh right? What does that mean?! Does Yuuri somehow have a reputation over here already? If that’s the case, Yuuri would like to cringe himself out of existence. Please. Victor puts the bottle away. “That’s fine, we can save it for later.”
Before Yuuri can say a word, their conversation is interrupted by a distant bark. Yuuri nearly jumps, thinking that they’ve already been caught breaking the rules—only to see an overzealous poodle prancing toward them. Victor’s eyes light up at the sight of the lolling tongue and the excitable slobber, and he jumps off the tree trunk to open his arms to the charging pup.
“Makka!” He cries, his voice bubbling into a laugh as the poodle jumps and tries to lick his face. With a sing-song tone, he coos, “What are you doing here, silly girl? Did you follow us outside of the palace?”
Makka bounds away from him, jumping up into Yuuri’s lap and eagerly slobbering all over his face. Yuuri sputters with laughter, holding her paws as she vigorously gives him attention. Tilting his chin up and squinting his eyes, he manages to catch a better glimpse of her past her tongue. Her curly fur bounces with her every jump, and her fluffy tail beats happily against the sand. Yuuri can’t help but think of Vicchan when he looks at her. That thought sends a quick lance of pain through his heart.
By the time Makka bounds away from him and circles Victor’s feet, Yuuri is covered in brown tufts of fur. He shakes the fur off his robes, smiling at Makka’s hyperactivity. She yips as Victor picks up a nearby stick and throws it down the beach. She takes off in a flash, darting through the sand.
Victor laughs, watching with crinkled eyes as she pounces on the stick with the triumph of a successful hunter. She paws at it and chews on it, her tail wagging. After a while, she settles down in the sand, gnawing on the stick to her heart’s content. In turn, Victor watches her for a moment longer before he rejoins Yuuri on the tree trunk.
“I guess you’ve officially met Makkachin, now,” he jokes, dusting some leftover fur off Yuuri’s robes. “She seems to like you.”
Yuuri nods, watching her with a hint of longing. “She looks just like Vicchan.”
Victor tilts his head curiously. “Vicchan?”
“Ah,” Yuuri starts, sheepish at the reminder that he named a dog after his now fiancé. He hopes Victor never makes the connection. “Vicchan is my dog. He’s back with my family right now.” Rummaging around in his robes, he finds the small pocket he was looking for. Pulling out his phone, he says, “I can, um, show you some pictures of him. If you’d like.”
Victor’s eyes light up and he eagerly leans in, so Yuuri takes that as a ‘yes.’
They scroll through Vicchan pictures for who-knows-how-long. Victor seems genuinely delighted, cooing and fawning over Vicchan’s toe beans and fluffy curls. He’s constantly asking Yuuri for the next picture. Luckily, Yuuri has a lot of pictures to offer, scrolling through each one at Victor’s request.
“He really does look like Makka!” Victor exclaims when they land on a picture of Vicchan carrying a stick twice the length of his body. “He must be full of energy. Why didn’t you bring him abroad?”
Yuuri pauses, his finger hovering over the screen. “I thought… well, I didn’t want to assume that I could just bring a dog to your palace… I mean, it’s your home.”
“Yuuri,” Victor complains, drawing out the syllables of his name again. The pout on his face makes Yuuri huff an involuntary laugh. “It’s your home now, too. You don’t need permission.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Yuuri relents, still somewhat hesitant.
“We can send someone to pick up Vicchan and bring him over here if you want,” Victor offers. Gesturing to Makka, who’s trotting back over with a stick, he says, “Then we can be a happy family of four!”
Yuuri nods, looking at the picture of Vicchan one last time before pocketing his phone. He pets Makka as she arrives, but he doesn’t give much focus to his actions. Instead, he finds himself deep in thought over one question in particular: who is Victor’s family?
It’s relatively well-known that Victor was the only child of the former king and queen, thus the crown was obviously passed down to him. But the previous king and queen only ruled for a short while, as they passed away unexpectedly. Since they passed when Victor was mere months old, a regent ruled over the kingdom until Victor was of age to inherit.
All of that was years before Yuuri was even born. Even though the procession of events is common knowledge, Yuuri still feels like he doesn’t know enough. He knows surface-level details of Victor’s family—their names, what kind of policies they promoted, and how they got along with Yuuri’s parents—but if he’s being honest, Yuuri doesn’t know all that much about Victor’s family. What were they like? Does Victor even remember them?
It seems like too sensitive of a topic to bring up, so Yuuri skirts around it. “Victor… do you have anyone you consider family right now? Other than Makka?”
Perhaps even that was still too personal to ask, as Victor’s expression takes on the slightest hint of melancholy. Yuuri immediately feels sympathy and guilt for causing that expression at all.
Just as he’s about to backtrack and assure Victor that he doesn’t have to answer, Victor speaks. “I wouldn’t say I have a conventional family, no. I’m sure you’re aware of my parents’ passing when I was young. Yakov—the regent that ruled until I was of age—is probably the closest thing I’ve ever had to a father. I obviously don’t have any children or siblings of my own, so I’ve named Yuri my heir.”
Yuuri stares at Victor, uncomprehending. “What?”
Victor blinks back at him, equally confused. “What, what?”
“You said you named me your heir, but I’m the royal consort,” Yuuri says. “I can’t inherit your kingdom.”
Victor’s brow furrows in deeper confusion before his eyes suddenly shoot wide with recognition. Then, he throws his head back and laughs, bright and loud.
“No, not you. I’m talking about another Yuri,” Victor explains, pulling out his own phone. After tapping the screen a few times, he pulls up a photo from his online profile. “See? Yuri Plisetsky, the angriest little kitten in the world.”
Yuuri glances over Victor’s shoulder to see a picture of Victor, a balding older man, and a short, frowning teenager. Victor is the only one smiling in the photo, but Yuuri gets the impression that the gruff exteriors on the other two are more of a front than anything else. Even with their stern expressions, they stand close to Victor. He doesn’t think anyone would stand that close to anyone they weren’t at least somewhat fond of. Not to mention, Victor seems fond of them, too. As flighty as Victor can be, Yuuri can’t imagine him being entirely clueless about other’s feelings for him. If anyone disliked him, he can’t imagine Victor would be interested in posting photos with them on his profile.
“Have I been pronouncing your name wrong?” Victor asks. “I’ve been pronouncing it like I pronounce ‘Yuri’. That’s not right, is it?”
“I mean… it’s close enough.”
“Close enough isn’t good.” Victor shakes his head. “If we’re going to be married, pronouncing your name right is the bare minimum. How do I say it?”
“Well, uh, there’s more of an emphasis on the yoo sound at the beginning. The ‘u’ is a little more drawn out.”
“Yuuuuuuuuri.”
“...Not like that.”
“Yoori?”
Yuuri snorts. “Okay, that wasn’t even close.”
Victor leans in, smiling and gazing at him from behind his eyelashes. “Yuuri?”
Oh no. Did he just—did he just purr Yuuri’s name?
Heat creeps up his neck, all the way to his ears. The flush on his face must be embarrassingly obvious, because Victor’s smile grows.
“Uh,” is all Yuuri can say before he clears his throat. “That was a lot better.”
Victor tilts his head, his eyes softening at the edges. He murmurs, “Did I get it that time?”
Yuuri swallows. “Yeah. Without a doubt.”
Victor seems pleased by his victory, laughing lightly to himself as he sits straight again. He looks down at Makka sitting by their feet, watching her doze off in the sand with a stick in her mouth. After a moment of amusing themselves with the sight, Victor looks out at the ocean and says, “I don’t really have a family in the conventional sense. But Yakov and Yuri are good. I have Mila and Georgi, too—although you probably haven’t met them yet—so I’m not alone.” Turning to Yuuri, he steals his breath with another smile. “It’ll be nice to have you become a part of the family.”
Yuuri nods, somewhat astonished that Victor is willing to open his arms to him so easily. Wanting to reciprocate and still feeling a bit guilty for bringing up Victor's difficult family life, Yuuri replies, “You’re welcome to be a part of my family, too. They’d love you.”
“Oh? And what are they like?”
“What are they like?” Yuuri repeats, as if asking himself the question. Leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees, he huffs a short laugh. “I mean, where do I even begin?”
Victor stays quiet, clearly giving him time to sort out his thoughts. Yuuri finds his words after another moment of contemplation. Even though there’s no way to fully encapsulate a person in one conversation alone, he wants to do his best. He wants Victor to understand them like he does.
“You’ve met my parents,” he starts, referring to the countless events they’ve attended together as the respective rulers of their countries. “They’re pretty much what they present themselves to be, to be honest. They’re kind and thoughtful.” Memories of scraping his knee, or being teased, or even his first panic attack return to him, but they’re all softened when he remembers that his parents were there for him through each one. A soft smile tugs onto his face. “Growing up, I always knew that I could go to them with anything. They have so much love in their hearts.”
“They sound wonderful,” Victor says, genuine and heartfelt. “What about your sister? Is she as kind as them?”
“Mari?” Yuuri nearly laughs with incredulity, but he stifles himself. He doesn’t want Victor to get the wrong idea. “She’s… well, I mean, she’s my sister. Of course she isn’t nice to me. But she makes up for it by being funny. And by being a good listener. I know she cares, deep down, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t tease me ruthlessly.”
“What does she tease you about?” Victor wonders.
Yuuri hopes his face doesn’t turn red at the question. There’s no way he’s explaining that Mari has teased him for the embarrassing crush he’s had on Victor since he was a kid!
“Just things,” he answers, vaguely. He jumps to the next topic quickly. “There are other people I consider family, even if they aren’t related to me by blood. There’s Yukko, Takeshi, the triplets…”
Victor smiles at him. “They all sound wonderful.”
“They are,” Yuuri states, nodding. “They’ve always supported me, even though I’m not exactly princely material.”
Victor’s smile turns to a frown of confusion. “What do you mean?”
Yuuri blinks back at him. “What?”
“Why would you think you’re not princely material?”
“Oh. I mean, I’m not a bad prince. I’m just mediocre. I’m kind of… kind of a dime a dozen prince, if that makes sense.”
Victor’s face scrunches up with greater confusion, and if Yuuri’s not mistaken, a hint of offense. “That’s not true. Even if I were marrying you solely for political benefit, you would still be the best choice.”
Yuuri can only stare. “Huh?”
“You’re level-headed. You’re a talented diplomat.”
Yuuri’s not entirely sure he believes that, but in all honesty, he’s not thinking too hard about it right now. No, right now, he’s trying to wrap his head around something specific Victor just said: even if I were marrying you solely for political benefit…
What does that mean? Isn’t Victor marrying him for political benefit, though? For the alliance? It’s not like there’s any other reason.
Or is there?
And if there is, what would it be?
Yuuri doesn’t get much time to think about it, because Victor smiles at him and says, “I think this is going to work out wonderfully. You’re the perfect person to be my husband.”
A flush spreads all across his face, and his heart stutters in his chest.
“Yeah,” he manages to say, “I think so, too.”
He really does.
The time of the ceremony arrives quicker than Yuuri anticipated, so quick that he and Victor were nearly late to their own wedding. When they had realized the time slipped by them, they sprinted back to the palace and climbed back into the window, dusting sand and bark off their clothes as they went their separate ways and snuck back into their rooms. Then, almost an instant later, a servant fetched him to begin the ceremony.
They’re in the cathedral now, where the ceremony is being held. Victor and Yuuri stand at the altar as guests shuffle in, trying to maintain an air of solemn reverence. But everytime they catch each other’s eye, they smile and nearly burst into childish laughter. Their escapade to the beach is still fresh in Yuuri’s mind. It almost feels like they’re a pair of trouble-making kids who share a secret no one else has the privilege of knowing.
A quick glance into the crowd reveals all of Yuuri’s family and friends, smiling encouragingly at him. Nearby, he spots an old balding man and a grouchy teenager, and he recognizes them from Victor’s photo. He even sees Phichit in the back, not so subtly taking about a thousand selfies.
An old man takes his place behind the podium at the altar. A heavy hush sweeps over the crowd, and the ceremony begins.
The man drones on and on, preaching about the sanctity of marriage or something or another, but Yuuri doesn’t really pay attention. His focus is entirely stolen by the way the light gleams through the stained glass windows and shimmers in Victor’s eyes. Whatever the old man is saying means nothing to Yuuri, especially when Victor smiles at him.
Then comes the vows. Yuuri has spent months memorizing them; they’re traditional vows that have been recited by generations and generations of Victor’s family. They’re long and flowery and mostly nonsensical, but Yuuri has managed to commit each word to memory. Victor will repeat the same words his forefathers had uttered to their spouses, and then Yuuri will reciprocate.
Only, when Victor begins to speak, it’s not the traditional, practiced vows that he says.
“I can hardly believe where we are right now. I've been waiting for you for a long time, and now that we’re here, it almost feels like a dream.”
“I know we haven’t had the chance to experience much of each other. I may not know everything you have to offer, but I know what you are. You are thoughtful. You are brave. You are intelligent. You are so many wonderful things that I couldn’t begin to name them all.”
“But most importantly, you are the one that suits me. You are my soulmate, my better half, and my dream come true. It is destiny now that I become the one for you.”
...Yuuri honestly can’t believe his ears. Did he seriously just go off script?! Now?! A stunned hush has fallen over the guests as they take in Victor’s words. Victor is beaming like a proud puppy dog who just brought Yuuri the world’s biggest stick, and not at all like a man who had decided to throw tradition in the wind not once, but twice in one day.
Yuuri could be a lot more upset about Victor throwing him under the bus with these off-the-cuff, heartfelt vows. Instead, he plays them over in his head again. It is destiny now that I become the one for you. With these words singing in his mind, he opens his mouth and allows his heart to do the talking.
“I’ve been waiting for you too, Victor. I’ve been waiting so long that I still can’t believe this is really happening.”
“But I’m glad that it is. I’m glad that I get this opportunity to get to know you—the real you. As proud as I am to be King Victor’s spouse, I am even more proud to be Just Victor’s spouse.”
“There’s no telling what our future together will look like. I don’t know what I will do or where I will in this life, but I do know this—I will go where you go. You say that it is destiny for you to become mine, so all I ask is that you stay close to me.”
He reaches the end of his impromptu vows and takes a deep breath. Everything that he just poured out was honest and raw, and he’s still reeling from the emotions of it all. Perhaps it’s a little ridiculous to feel so strongly for a person after having only one real conversation with them, but Yuuri can’t help himself. There’s something about Victor that draws him in and brings out the craziest parts of him.
Victor seems to be just as affected, smiling at him with tears shining in his eyes. Yuuri can’t help but return his smile.
The next thing Yuuri hears are wedding bells.
The afterparty, thus far, has been an elegant and restrained affair. There’s a lot of posturing going on, with political allies who need to be thanked for their attendance and court members that Yuuri needs to be introduced to, but no one seems insistent on stirring up political debate or trouble. Whether that's because everyone is eager to stay on the good side of the newly allied kingdoms or the wedding simply has everyone in a jovial mood, Yuuri can’t say.
Yuuri and Victor haven’t left each other’s sides the whole night. Their arms have remained linked since they left the altar, even though there’s no expectation for them to stay together like this. Yuuri hasn’t felt the compulsion to split away, and it doesn’t seem that Victor has, either. So, Yuuri stays close to him and tries not to feel too giddy at the casual touch.
“A drink, your highness?” A servant at Yuuri’s other side offers a platter of champagne flutes.
Yuuri is just about to politely deny when the man talking to Victor says, “Yes, let’s all have a drink and toast to the newlyweds!”
Everyone around him takes a flute of their own, eager to make a toast. Vaguely, Yuuri recognizes the man as Georgi Popovich, a close friend and ally of Victor’s. He’s probably not someone Yuuri wants to offend. So, not wanting to look rude or standoffish, Yuuri accepts a drink.
Georgi raises his glass, proclaiming, “To King Victor and Prince Yuuri! May your years be many and full of cheer!”
Other guests applaud and raise their own glasses in acknowledgement of the toast. Yuuri and Victor do the same, and Yuuri takes a tentative sip. As long as he strictly limits himself to one drink, he shouldn’t have trouble reigning himself in. With that in mind, he relaxes and allows himself to enjoy the drink.
He and Victor make their way around the room, chatting with guests. Yuuri gets to meet some of Victor’s friends, Mila and Christophe, and Yuuri introduces Phichit and Victor. He even gets to meet Yuri, who mostly scowls and hisses every time Victor makes a joke at his expense. Jokes are made and embarrassing stories are shared, but overall, it’s a wonderful night.
By the time he finishes his glass and hands it to a servant to be taken away, Victor smiles teasingly at him and murmurs, “Remember not to drink too much.”
The champagne has him feeling light enough to laugh. “I won’t. Don’t worry.”
“We wouldn’t want a repeat of last year, after all,” Victor states with a gleam in his eye.
... Last year?
The lightheartedness of the champagne immediately drained out of him. Last year? What does that mean?! What happened last year? Entirely unaware of Yuuri’s dawning horror, Victor strikes a thoughtful pose and says, “Well, maybe we would, but now we’re married. It would certainly complicate things…”
Unable to stand the terrifying confusion anymore, Yuuri asks, “What… what are you talking about?”
Victor blinks at him. “The gala your parents hosted last year. Remember?”
He wishes he didn’t, but yes, he recalls. His parents hosted a huge ball for several world leaders. It was a huge event, and Yuuri was forced to make an appearance. Unfortunately, it had coincided with a day that he had horribly embarrassed himself in front of the court, so he hadn’t been feeling too sociable. So, he stood in the corner and had a drink. And another. And another…
In the end, he didn’t remember what happened the rest of the night. All he remembers is the next morning, he’d had a million calls and texts from Phichit, and Mari thrust a cult of water in his hands while calling him a lunatic. Assuming he’d humiliated himself in some drunken spectacle, he refused to ask any questions about the event. Ignorance was bliss, he’d decided.
But right now, he’s starting to think he made a terrible decision on that front.
Sheepishly, Yuuri admits, “I remember the party, but… but I don’t remember anything that happened that night.”
Victor nearly chokes on his drink. “You don’t remember?!”
Yuuri grows pale. “What did I do?”
Did he humiliate himself on live television? Did he say something to someone he shouldn’t have? Oh god, did he get naked?!
Yuuri could’ve never expected what Victor says next. “You proposed to me!”
Yuuri stares at him. Victor stares back.
…
…
“...WHAT?!”