The forest god wasn't like Yuuri remembered; he was better.
Tall, powerful, and indescribably beautiful. Like something from a dream; a glimpse of heaven.
Yuuri blinked up at him, more than mesmerized. Enchanted; enraptured. At his face, the sharp angle of his jaw as he smiled. His hands, long fingers clothed in gloves as black as a moonless night. His body, flawless in a way that couldn't be real, like some sort of celestial artist had spent a million years sculpting him out of pure magic. His eyes, blue like the morning sky, like the first drop of rain in early spring, radiant and shining, and looking mildly concerned…
All at once the pain came back to him, and Yuuri cried out. "Phichit!" he said, turning toward his friend, whose prone body still lay on the ground where he had fallen. "Please, help him."
The forest god knelt next to Yuuri, reaching over him to get to Phichit. Filling the space with the scent of roses and something else, something Yuuri couldn't quite place. And suddenly Yuuri was no longer afraid, couldn't be afraid. Because the forest god was here, and he was going to fix it. Just like when he was young. Everything was going to be okay.
Then he straightened. "Your friend is dying."
The good feelings shattered as the man stood, leaving Yuuri cold and gasping for breath. "But you can help him," Yuuri insisted. Of course he could help. He was a god, wasn't he?
But the beautiful man, the source of immense power in front of him was shaking his head. "That isn't how it works. He is meant to die, and therefore he will."
But Yuuri was shaking his head, too. He turned to face his friend, to put both hands on his wound as if he could stop the bleeding by sheer force of will. "No, that's not possible," he said through clenched teeth and tears. "You have to help him."
"I can't." The God's voice was low, somber. "A life will be taken today, as it was meant to be."
"Please!" Yuuri sobbed. "There has to be something—there has to be something you can do!"
The forest god was silent for so long Yuuri thought he might have left, vanished like the hallucination he probably was. But then he spoke, and his voice was like a sigh of wind through a canopy of leaves. "There is another way," he said.
Yuuri met the god's eyes, and they were troubled. "What is it?" Yuuri said. "I'll do anything."
"A life for a life," the god said. "Would you trade yours for his?"
Yuuri looked at Phichit. His best friend. His brother. "I die and he lives?"
The forest god nodded.
"Do it," Yuuri said. He didn't even have to think about it. There was no way, no scenario in which Yuuri could ever live with himself if he let Phichit die. It was his fault he was in this forest anyway, his fault that Phichit had come to Sol in the first place.
The forest god held Yuuri's gaze, and the look in his eyes was something like pain. And for a wild, reeling moment, Yuuri wondered if he had made the wrong choice.
Then the forest god took a deep breath and lifted his arms, and the world exploded into color and fractured light.
This magic was nothing like the king's. Where his had been sharp and brutal and too warm, the magic pouring from the god in front of him was a cool, soft thing—a layer of night that cascaded around them like a waterfall of multicolored stardust.
Yuuri forgot to feel his own pain as he watched that stardust fall upon Phichit, where it seemed to collect in the opening of the wound in his chest, glowing slightly before it was absorbed into his body.
Phichit coughed, and sat up. "Y-Yuuri?" he said, looking from Yuuri to the god of the forest, eyes wide with disbelief.
Yuuri was allowed one moment of relief, one moment to smile at his friend's health before the pain came back tenfold, this time in his shoulder and in his chest and in his soul. It ripped through him, burned like wildfire from the inside out. Vaguely, he could feel himself screaming, could hear Phichit yelling, but it seemed so very far away.
"Don't worry." The voice of the forest god. "He won't be in pain much longer."
Yuuri felt himself being lifted off the ground, surrounded by that same sweet perfume of roses and… and starlight. That's what it was. That second smell he could not recognize earlier. Yuuri had never been more sure of anything in his life.
Yuuri opened his eyes through the pain to find the blue of the forest god's staring back, close enough that Yuuri could see them clearly. They looked sad.
Yuuri did not want this beautiful creature to be sad.
Struggling to stay awake, even knowing he was going to die, Yuuri forced himself to smile. "You smell like starlight," he said in a voice so weak it was practically silent, reaching up with the last of his strength to touch a strand of that silver hair.
The last thing Yuuri registered before his life went blank was the forest god's face, blinking down at him in pure, complete shock.
And then, nothing.
...
Broken movement.
A blurred surge of stars.
The feeling of being cradled in the night sky.
Roses, and a spring wind.
If this was death, Yuuri thought, perhaps it wasn't so bad.
A voice cut through Yuuri's darkness, surprised and angry.
"Victor, what is that?"
"None of your concern, Yuri. Go back home."
Yuuri had a moment to wonder at the voice, at the person with the same name as him before the pain in his chest was replaced with ice, and he was falling, falling, falling—
Yuuri awoke to moonlight, and something cold and wet on his face.
Cautious, he sat up to come eye to eye with a large brown poodle—the same one from earlier, he realized—tongue lolling, tail wagging.
"Thank you for saving me," Yuuri said to the dog, who barked and licked his face one more time before leaping off the bed and bounding out the open door of this borrowed room. Yuuri took a moment to survey his surroundings; the lumpy mattress on which he lay, stone walls so full of gaps and holes that moonlight streamed through them, bathing the room in a soft silver glow.
Looking down at himself, Yuuri realized his shirt was missing, and Phichit's blood had been cleaned off. A bandage wrapped around his chest, and another around his leg where that creature had bitten him. He flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders, took a deep breath of air into his lungs.
Wasn't he supposed to be dead?
The lingering pain in his chest told him he was still alive, but why? What had happened after that magic consumed him?
Gingerly, he stood. The ground was cold on his bare feet as he made his way through the door after the dog. He stepped over the holes in the floor, around the rubble and debris and pieces of the ceiling that had fallen. The hall was otherwise empty, with the exception of one massive golden clock at the very end, ticking steadily.
He heard a bark, and continued toward it, to a room at the far end of the hall on the left.
The door was ajar, so Yuuri pushed through.
To find the god of the forest lounging on a midnight blue sofa, staring out the window with a frown. There was no sign of the dog, just a large bed in the center of the room, and the couch under the window.
Yuuri's eyes widened. He had just shoved his way into the forest god's bedroom.
Yuuri took a careful step backward, praying that he wouldn't be noticed.
The man straightened, then turned.
"Yuuri?" The god was up in a second, frown deepening as he looked Yuuri over once, twice. Yuuri took another step back. Was he going to be punished for intruding? Was he going to be killed—why hadn't he been killed yet? That look in the god's eyes as he sized Yuuri up—something like anger or disappointment—was terrifying, and it had Yuuri's head feeling like mush. What on earth was he thinking? Yuuri took a third step back.
The forest god came closer, disapproval evident on his perfect face, and Yuuri braced himself. But the man just grabbed Yuuri's hand and clasped it in both of his own, then lifted it up to press his lips on Yuuri's skin. Yuuri just blinked, mouth opened slightly in surprise. If he was expecting anything, it certainly hadn't been this.
"Yuuri." Even the way the forest god said his name was captivating, the sharp consonant softened by long vowels. "You're ice cold. You should be resting."
Yuuri withdrew his hand, and bowed low at the waist. The movement hurt, but not as much as it probably should have. "I'm sorry for intruding, great forest god. Please, forgive me!"
Stunned silence, then the forest god laughed, startling Yuuri into standing. "I'm no forest god," he said. "Call me Victor."
"You—uh—" Yuuri stammered, trying to make sense of the situation through the mush his brain had become. "Victor?"
The man smiled and nodded. Yuuri furrowed his brow, and the forest god's—Victor's—eyes seemed to soften at Yuuri's confusion. "Go back to bed," he said gently. "I'll explain everything tomorrow."
Yuuri did not want to wait until tomorrow, and he didn't particularly want to go back to that strange room with its broken walls, but he moved forward as Victor guided him out of his own room and back to the one Yuuri had woken up in.
"Please," Yuuri said as Victor gestured for him to lay down, which he did, wincing in discomfort at the old mattress. Victor lifted a bed sheet Yuuri hadn't noticed before from the floor, where Yuuri must have kicked it off in his sleep. "Why am I still alive?"
Victor raised an eyebrow. Lifting his arms, he brought the blanket up into the air only to let it fall gently on top of Yuuri's body. "Would you rather not be?"
Yuuri could feel a flush climbing up his neck when he realized what Victor was doing. The mighty god of the forest, Yuuri's childhood savior and hero, was tucking him into bed.
"No, no." Yuuri was quick to shake his head. "I'm glad. But…" He met Victor's eyes. "Is Phichit…?"
Victor waved him off. "Your friend is alive and well. Although—" Victor put a finger on his chin as Yuuri relaxed in relief. "He should probably refrain from drinking so much. Just in general."
"Then…" Yuuri frowned as he was covered with a second blanket Victor had apparently produced from thin air. "Why am I—"
"Don't worry about it." Victor's tone was suddenly serious, his gaze unyielding, and Yuuri shrank back into his pillow. A shadow seemed to pass over Victor's eyes, but it was gone before Yuuri was even really sure he had seen it, and the man's cheerful demeanor was back once again. "Like I said, I'll explain everything tomorrow. Try to get some rest."
"But—"
The chime of the golden clock in the hallway split through the silence of the night, and Victor jumped.
Yuuri made to sit up, but Victor held up his hand. "Yuuri, don't get up again," he said, and the shadow was back, clouding those blue eyes into something grey and dark.
Victor let the door shut behind him, and Yuuri was plunged into inky darkness.
Victor leaned against Yuuri's door, heart hammering. He stayed there only long enough to catch his breath before forcing himself to move, to hurry to his room and shut the door.
That clock hadn't chimed in nearly five years. For it to happen tonight, of all nights…
Victor knelt, and reached underneath his bed for a large box made of white stone. He opened it—empty—reached his arms back to unclasp the chain that hung, heavy, around his neck. He pulled the sparkling blue pendant out from where it had been tucked into the front of his shirt and stared at it for a moment, frowning. Then he placed it delicately in the box, which he slid back under the bed.
Without giving himself time to think, he turned out the light and left his room, hurrying in the direction of the courtyard.
He had done a stupid thing, bringing Yuuri here. A stupid, foolish, selfish thing. And he might have to pay dearly for it, one of these days.
Victor paused behind his own front door with one hand resting on the handle. He smoothed out his features, squared his shoulders and stood straighter to regain whatever composure he had lost being close to Yuuri. Lifting his chin, Victor opened the door and stepped out into the night.
Outside, the moon had disappeared behind a mask of clouds.
Fitting, Victor thought, descending the palace staircase with careful grace. Fitting for the figure at the bottom of the stairs that seemed to melt into existence from the darkness itself, tall and imposing. The figure turned to him, face cast in shadow.
Torn between something like joy and something like sorrow, Victor went to greet his guest.
"Welcome home," Victor said to the tall figure as he came more clearly into view, face drawn in a glower of obvious distaste. "Master."
The man's curly hair was speckled with grey—a new development after five years apart—but everything was otherwise unchanged. His face was unlined, and his eyes were still the same shade of midnight that had captivated Victor when they were both young—the same shade of midnight Victor had once wanted to fill with stars.
"I'm happy you've returned," Victor said, reaching out a hand to the man, who simply glanced at it before turning and making his way to the front door.
Victor lowered his hand. He did not turn around, and instead kept his gaze away from the castle, toward the dark mass of the forest. "It's been five years, Master."
"This castle is in a state of disarray," the man said sharply. "What have you been doing all this time?"
Victor tipped his face toward the sky, and allowed himself to wish for one fleeting moment that he still had the power to brush the clouds aside, to unveil the stars. "I've been waiting for you," he said simply.
The sound of footsteps on the stone slowed, then stopped. "Do you know why I chose you to protect this forest?"
Victor turned at the words, spoken softly. "No," he said honestly.
The man's feet shifted on the stairs, angling his body more fully toward Victor. "Because you're the only one who can. And you're letting it fall to ruin."
Victor inclined his head. "My magic has been…less than present these days."
A hand under Victor's chin, suddenly, lifting it up roughly to force his eyes to meet those pools of black. "That's stupid. This shouldn't be so hard for you."
Victor's chin was released, and the man turned back toward the castle. Victor swallowed. "I didn't know if you were coming back."
The man stopped walking once again, turned just his head. "Is that really what you think of me?"
Victor cast his eyes to the ground. "It's been a long time."
He was there, then. Surrounding Victor in the embrace he had been waiting for all this time. "I'll always come back, Victor. You know that." The man pulled back slightly to look into Victor's eyes once again. "I love you, remember?"
Victor nodded, but something in his chest ached.
"Come inside," Victor said, pulling away and ignoring that nameless feeling. "I'll make you something to eat."
"Victor, I've had a long night. Filled with disappointment." His eyes flashed. "I'm not hungry."
Victor clutched his chest with a cry as desire shot through him, deep and burning and white-hot, so strong it was almost painful.
The obsidian in the master's eyes seemed to shift to an even deeper black as he smiled down at Victor from the stairs. "I trust you've kept my bedroom intact," he said.