I loved this rink early in the morning or late at night. It had such a nice, still, peaceful aura about it. And I loved even more that Yurio had learend to appreciate that same haunting sensation. He might have been adopted, but there was no doubt in my mind he was my son. Yurio had the same twinkle in his eye that I did.

"Violet, you're late!" Yakov snapped.

"What do you mean, we're late?" I checked my phone, "We're half an hour early. Yuri wanted to get a little time on the ice to warm up."

"I told you eight-thirty."

"You told me nine," I stood my ground, "Go ahead, Yuri. Put your skates on and give me a good routine."

"Ok, Mama," Yurio tied his skates and slid out to the middle of the rink.

"Look, Violet," Yakov growled, "Just becuase you're here doesn't make you his coach. You're not Yuri's coach anymore. I am. Now, I'm not going to let a stage mother do my job for me."

"Ok," I quivered. Yakov was scary...

"Does Yuri have a dance instructor?" he asked, watching Yurio closely.

"Yeah," I nodded, "Me."

"Get a professional," Yakov demanded, "If you can't find one, I know someone."

"No," I brushed him off, "I'd like to keep it in the family, if that's alright with you."

"Not Victor," he cringed, "He's not a professional in the least bit. Sure, he has the talent, but he lacks the discipline."

"No," I settled him, "My friend Natalia. She's a professional dancer. She's been doing ballet since she was three. Natalia was my teacher and she's ruthless."

"Fine," Yakov allowed it, "I want you to get him lessons immediately. He will spend two hours here with me in the morning and two hours with her in the afternoon. We will start preliminaries in three months. We have until then to get him prepared."

"Ok," Yakov still scared the hell out of me, but he's one of the best. It's for Yurio. I could tolerate him for Yurio's sake.

"Why aren't you arranging his lessons?" he glared through my soul. I scattered off, stepping outside. So, Yakov is officially terrifying. For Yurio. Do it for Yurio, Violet. I scrolled through my phone for Natalia's number.

"Hello?" a half dead voice groaned on the other end.

"Hey, Natalia," I winced, "Are you ok?"

"I was asleep, Violet," Natalia grumbled, "Is this life and death?"

"Sort of," I treaded lightly, "I have a job for you."

"I'm listening," I wasn't sure how accurate that was.

"I need to schedule some lessons with you," I told her.

"Really?" Natalia perked up a little more, "Three years off the ice. Are you finally staging your big comeback, Violet?"

"No," I clarifed, "They're not for me. I'm retired."

"There's no way they're for Victor," Natalia figured, "I've seen that man's step sequences. His footwork is heartbreakingly flawless."

"No!" I squeaked, "It's for Yurio."

"Yurio?" she gasped, "I never woudl've thought Yurio would've been the one to get into dance. My money was on Yuri."

"Oh, Yuri's skating, too," I assured, "Victor's teaching him."

"If anyone could," Natalia gushed, "When are you wanting Yurio to come in?"

"Are you free this afternoon?" I wondered.

"I got nothing going on," she assured, "Sure. We can work out a schedule then, too."

"Thank you, Nat," I let out a heavy sigh of relief, "You're a lifesaver."

"Violet, you're one of my best friends," she pointed out, "And you know I've always had a soft spot for Yurio. It's my pleasure."

"Now, go back to sleep, Natalia," I pulled out my mom voice.

"Bless you."

Click.

It wouldn't surprise me if Natalia had a touch of a hangover. Girlfriend liked her vodka. And girlfriend liked to party. When she wasn't teaching ballet, Natalia was a go-go dancer in a couple clubs in downtown St. Petersburg. As she taught me ballet, I'd teach her some of my old moves from my days of dancing burlesque in New York. Oh, the memories.

"You're overrotating!" Yakov's voice thundered as I came back in, "Your jumps are sloppy! Don't go for triples when you can barely manage doubles! That's how you end up hurting yourself! No sympathy!"

I left Yurio and Yakov alone for ten minutes and this is what I come back to. No, no, no. Not happening, "Yakov!"

"What?" he snarled at me while Yurio was suppressing tears.

"He's just a kid," I settled him, "So, he wants to go for bigger jumps. Let him."

"No!" Yakov put his foot down, "If he wants to get any better, this is how things will be."

"You yelling at my son?" I glared, "I don't think so."

"Mama," Yurio choked out meekly, "I'm fine."

No, he's not. I knew better, "Go back to the ice, baby."

After that long, uncomfortable, and brutal practice, I got Yurio the hell out of there. My poor baby. He didn't deserve the verbal abuse Yakov was giving him. He's trying his best. Is that not good enough for Yakov? Probably not. If he let someone like Victor slip through his fingers, I'm sure Yurio will wise up, too.

"Mama..." Yurio spoke softly, "I don't like Yakov."

"I understand, honey," I agreed, "You don't have to keep training with him if you don't want to."

"But I want to," he assured, surprising me, "I don't want to stop training with Yakov. He'll get me to the top. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Are you sure?" I worried.

"Yes," Yurio had such a certainty in his voice that I had never heard before. I've seen the fire in his eyes, but this was something entirely different, "I'm positive. I'm going to become the warrior you see in me. I'm going to conquer lands I've never seen before. Fight the mobs of enemies. I will be worthy of being called dragonborn."

"Ok." Amazing. One practice with Yakov and Yurio's already got the mindset and the confidence. Or maybe he was just playing cocky. But I couldn't lose faith in him. He had it in himself in spades, but Yurio fed off my energy more than anyone else's. If I lost faith in him, he'd spiral. When we got home, Yuri sat in the living room, playing with Makkachin while his father laid on the couch, still not completely there, but better than when I left him this morning.

"Why don't you go lay down for a while, Yuri?" I suggested, "We have one more thing to do today and you'll want to rest up for it. I'll come take care of you in a minute, ok?"

"Ok, Mama," Yurio tried hiding a limp from me as he went into his room. How many times did he fall today?

"Hey," Victor called from the couch, "How was practice?"

"Yuri," I sat on the arm, "Go to your room. Daddy and I need to talk."

"Ok," Yuri got up and took Makkachin with him.

"Violet?" Victor worried, "Is everything alright?"

"He's brutal, Victor," my heart broke, "Yurio's going to tough it out, but I almost don't want him to. Who hurt Yakov to where it made him such an asshole?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I've never dug that deep with Yakov."

"I'm not sure if I can watch that again," a couple tears escaped my eyes, "I don't think my heart can take it."

"Do you want me to talk to Yakov?" Victor volunteered, "Tell him to take it easy on Yurio?"

"No," I shook my head, "You don't have to do that."

"He's my son, too, Violet," he reminded me, "I don't want him yelling at Yurio either."

"Then, why did you say I should let him coach our baby?" I snapped...but realized the error of my ways very quickly, "I'm sorry, Victor. It's just that Yakov's got me all worked up and I did everything I could to keep myself from punching him. Do you know how much intestinal fortitude that took?"

"And I'm proud of you for not doing it," Victor praised, "I know he's brutal, sweetheart, but he has his methods. And they work. Now, this thing later. What do you and Yurio have planned for the afternoon?"

"Yakov told me I had to get Yurio lessons," I explained, "He said he knew someone, but I told him I got someone, too. So, I'm taking him to see Natalia later. Because, according to Yakov, I'm not enough of a professional to teach him. It's not like I've won gold twice and silver once and have an excellent track record. I'm not qualified to coach him. I'm not qualified to teach him."

"Easy, Violet," he joked, "With that much salt, you're going to give yourself a heart attack."

"It's true, though!" I squealed, "He belittled me the first chance he got. He told me that I was just a stage mother at a toddler beauty pageant compared to him."

"In a way," Victor pulled me down to him, "You are. But you know you're so much more than that. And you know it. You were Yurio's first coach and look where that got him. Yakov's radar. One of, if not the best coach in the world. If that doesn't get you a little notoriety, nothing will."

I nuzzled my face in my husband's shoulder, "I'm worried about him, Victor. What if Yakov beats that sweet little boy out of him?"

"He'll be ok," he cradled me, "Yakov was my coach for ten years and I turned out ok. I got five gold metals under him. Yurio will do just fine."

"But..."

"Violet, you're overthinking," Victor's embrace tightened.

"I know," I shook a little, "Overprotective mother syndrome kicked in. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," he cuddled me, "I understand where you're coming from, but there's no need for it. Yakov's the least of your worries right now. You still have to take Yurio to see Natalia. You know she's going to work him to the bone. You know the kind of drill instructor she can be."

"Thanks, Victor," I pouted, "That was such a help."

"She'll go easy on him," he assured, "She loves him almost as much as you do. I'm sure she won't be too ruthless."

"It's Natalia," I pointed out, "She better not. She's seen me be a tiger mommy with Yurio."

"It's going to be fine," Victor rocked me, "I know it will."

I hoped it would. Between Yakov bitching at Yurio for not being as skilled as someone that's been at this for years and Natalia, who's been dancing since she could walk, and her teaching methods, God only knows what's going to happen to my baby. Don't worry, Dovahkiin. Mama's got this, too.

A/N: Yurio, you little angel. The eyes of a soldier, right? They had to come from somewhere, didn't they? Well, if you thought Yakov was bad, we'll see about how Natalia, who actually does love Yurio a little, handles him. See you next chapter! xx