CHAPTER 7: Explore
Breakfast had brutally ended on quite the awkward note, with Viktor apologizing profusely when he saw Yuuri quietly tearing up, eyes wide. The prince had been biting his lip, nibbling at it with worry, eyes searching here and there for anything that could make his protégé feel better. Somehow, the slave noticed and found the gesture endearing, even though the situation was anything but. His mind swirled around dark thoughts of loneliness and grief, trying to force himself and let go of what his life used to be. He heard his own words echoing in his mind. I just... wasn't with them at that time.
Where he was, on that day... How ironic that what brought him joy the most in his life had also been his doom. His heart clenched, realizing just now how hoarse his voice was. He hadn't taken much attention to it, but now that he had pronounced more than a few words in a row he realized how broken and tired he sounded, each syllable full of gravel. He kept his head low, eyes avoiding the prince's.
The silver-haired man abruptly stood up and took a deep breath, making the boy in front of him jump.
"I... I have something for you. I know it will never make up for every horrible thing that has happened to you, but if it can make it any better... I would like you to have it."
The prince then walked around the table, and offered his hand to the slave. At this point, the emotional rollercoaster of the morning had exhausted Yuuri so much that he didn't even care enough to search for hidden meaning or threats. He simply took the hand, and gladly put his weight on it to carefully stand up. Even though the painkillers were in effect now, he still didn't feel strong enough to walk with ease. It was as if all the fatigue from the previous weeks has suddenly resurfaced and drained him from the little energy he had left. He felt as defenseless as a newborn, and was so frustrated that he did. Slowly but surely, Viktor guided him towards the suite's bathroom. What the boy hadn't realized was that the exuberant washroom actually led to two other rooms; on the left, he could hear Makkachin scratching on the closed door of apparently his own little chamber, and on the right was a splendid, luxurious walk-in. Compared to the simplistically beige bedroom, the walls there were painted in warm reds and covered at the top and bottom with wooden swirls the color of gold. On every side were horizontal metal poles, on which hung dozens of the richest costumes and fabrics, making the room look like an explosion of color. However, what caught Yuuri's attention the most was a strange-looking chair occupying the middle of the room. Apparently, a plump armchair had been put on and attached to a wooden platform, which was equipped with four small metal wheels. The purpose of the chair wasn't quite clear, and neither was Yuuri's presence beside the prince in his own wardrobe, but the slave was getting tired of questioning everything that was happening to him. The dark-haired man simply shot a confused look to his master, who let go of his hand to face him.
"I'm so sorry it isn't as nice as it could be, but I asked of the builders to have it done by this morning... It's just, I know you need to rest and take it easy, but I wouldn't want to confine you to your bedroom. I want you to feel comfortable here, and welcomed, so I thought of a little something so you could move around without exhausting yourself. Please... have a seat?"
Viktor reached out to take Yuuri's hand again and led him to the chair. He helped him climb on the platform, slender fingers supporting his back until the man was seated. The slave was too astonished by Viktor's gift to notice the nervous twitch in his master's hands. The boy laid his arms on the padded armrests, the soft red velvet gentle under his skin, the whole chair feeling just enough to be perfectly comfortable. Yuuri relaxed in his seat, the sore muscles of his body grateful for the respite. The prince moved out of his sight and grabbed two handles that had also been added to the back of the chair, and started pushing the improvised vehicle. It was somewhat heavy, but the silver-haired man seemed to have no trouble strolling his guest around the room. He came to a stop a few steps further in front of one of the racks, and rummaged through the gorgeous outfits before he picked one.
"Ah! This one should do. Do you like it, Yuuri?"
He turned towards the smaller man and smiled widely, almost shoving the clothing in his face. On the hanger was a midnight blue two-piece suit, the valuable cotton slightly shining in the daylight. A thin layer of black mesh decorated the vest, along with several blue feather-like pieces covering the right shoulder. The clothing was somewhat extravagant, but still elegant and of good taste. In any case, it had to be expensive, that much was sure.
Not knowing what he was supposed to say, Yuuri simply stated the obvious.
"It's... very beautiful." Viktor's smile broadened at the words, and excitement filled his eyes.
"You think so? Oh, I'm glad! Please, go put it on!" Astonishment filled the slave's eyes.
"You... you want me to put it on?"
"Yes! Yuuri, you can't wear a bathrobe all the time... You're going to need some clothes, and since we're approximately the same height, I thought my clothes could fit you. Though this suit is from when I was younger, so it should be closer to your size..."
The smaller male was silent for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.
"V-Viktor... This is very nice from you, and I greatly appreciate, but... These are clothes for a prince. I... I can't accept this. I don't mind finding my own clothes at the market, not at all, or I could borrow some of the servant's if that's less troublesome, oh, I could sew them myself if necessary..."
The prince's face fell.
"Yuuri, please. You do not need any more worries than the ones you have at the moment. Let me take care of the food, the clothes, anything to make you feel better so you can focus on healing. Take it, please."
Yuuri lowered his eyes. There wasn't much he could say to that, and refusing any further would just be rude. He did not have the luxury to be impolite in the slightest with this host.
"Yes Mas-... Viktor. Thank you for the gift."
Viktor frowned. This wasn't what he meant. He hadn't wanted the captive to drop his gaze, to take his words for orders. Guilt surged up in the man. He hadn't even been able to make his protégé feel remotely comfortable enough to simply accept a gift, without fear of retribution. Instead, Yuuri had submitted to him. Given up on his free will. All because Viktor wasn't trying hard enough... or maybe too hard. Viktor bit his lower lip, mind swirling as he searched for the right words.
"It's... it's okay if you don't want to wear it. You can take another piece, any one you like. Ah..." He didn't feel like saying what he was about to say. He wanted the boy to be well-dressed, and pampered, and all cared for. But this wasn't his decision to make. "You can take some clothes from the servants too, if you would be more comfortable doing that."
Yuuri's eyes shot up, going a little wide as he watched the man in front of him. That last suggestion obviously made the prince uncomfortable, but he was fighting hard not to let it show and to simply smile softly at his guest. A flash a regret went through Yuuri, feeling bad for the man who was trying so hard to make him feel welcome, and yet who kept hitting a wall of fear and refusal. The slave fidgeted with his hands, mind and feelings battling each other. He looked again at the shining suit Viktor now timidly held. It wasn't that he didn't like it, it just seemed a little... extravagant. He wasn't sure he would feel very comfortable wearing it. However, if it could reassure the other that he wasn't doing anything wrong, he could surely put up with it for a little while.
Why would I want to make him happy? Sooner or later, he will turn his back on you and hurt you. Yuuri looked straight in the prince's eyes.
"It's okay, I will wear it. Thank you."
Because since the moment you saw him, this man has tried to take care of you. You do not deserve his attention, and he certainly does not deserve your attitude.
Viktor hesitated. "Are you sure?"
What attitude? You're just afraid, and after all you've been through, that's very normal, don't you think? The younger man tried to sound as convinced as he felt... which he didn't.
"Y-yes. It's very pretty. I like it."
In any case, I don't think I could be dressed in a servant's clothes and be with the prince without causing even more suspicion than if I just put on the damned suit.
Viktor didn't seem to believe him entirely, but he was reassured enough to still hand out the clothes to his protégé.
"Okay. I'll let you get dress, please call me if you need any help."
Well, I guess I can't go back now.
Yuuri nodded, and waited for the silver-haired man to leave the room before he got up. He then ever so slowly slid the pieces on, one by one. It felt like it took him forever, body protesting at the slightest movement. When he was finally done, he turned to a wall where a full-length mirror stood proud, and looked at himself. Yuuri had never been so well dressed for such a simple day, the clothes hugging his curves perfectly and enhancing everything that needed to be. But at the same time, he had never felt so much like a stranger. At a first glance, the man he saw looked beautiful. But if he watched closer, he could see that his limbs were too thin, floating in a suit he wouldn't usually have been able to wear. His face was bruised and unnaturally pale, and his hair longer than it had ever been. It was as if he was wearing someone else's skin, both his body and attire completely out of place as to who he was. Sooner or later the mask would break and fall. He didn't even know if what was underneath would ever be the same.
Reluctantly, he teared his eyes away from the foreigner in the polished glass and went back to his chair, telling Viktor he was done. The prince came back in with a smile that turned into a gasp as he saw the black-haired man in his seat.
"Yuuri! This... You... You're so beautiful!" The man just blurted out compliments, eyes shining with barely restrained admiration. His guest blushed and looked away, expression still sad. The prince had only paid attention to the first glance, apparently. He knew what he really looked like; half a man, broken and sick, mockingly dressed in stolen clothes. But the flattering compliments wouldn't stop flowing out of his host's mouth, so he muttered an embarrassed thank you.
"Well, now that you are dressed up and comfortable, I guess it's time to go explore!"
The prince spoke with a wide smile, almost jumping in excitement. He waited for the boy to nod in assent, and reached for the handles at the back of the chair to push Yuuri out of the room. As soon as they stepped in the hallway, the younger man marveled at how luminous the palace was. The whole place had been built in a similar fashion as the audience room, with light marble floors, cream-colored walls and large windows every few steps. The atmosphere was peaceful and welcoming, and summery rays of sun lit up their way. They crossed a few people in the corridors, all smiling and bowing at the prince. They also inevitably shot curious and inquisitive glances at Yuuri, but fortunately none of them either had the social rank nor the guts to ask about him.
They went first to Mila's office, which wasn't too far, so she could replace the bandages Yuuri had disposed of to bathe earlier. She also did a second check-up of his bruises, but everything seemed to be fine and slowly healing, the ice from the previous day having reduced considerably any swelling. Then, she decided to fully assess Yuuri's overall health, in case she had missed anything in her previous examinations. Everything was going very smoothly, the man letting her listen to his lungs, check his ears, his mouth, and so on. Well, that was until she lifted a weird-looking pair of glasses to his face. He froze for an instant, eyes lost in the distance, frowning. He looked at Mila, then at the object, then at Mila again, and hesitated before he finally leaned in towards the instrument. The doctor raised a brow in question, but didn't say anything and simply proceeded to the eye exam. After a few answers from the man, though, his reaction suddenly made much more sense.
"Yuuri… You used to wear glasses, didn't you?" She spoke with caution, watching his patient's reactions, as well as Viktor's from the corner of her eyes.
The dark-haired man raised his gaze and nodded, lips stretched thinly on a smile devoid of any joy.
"They were broken the night I was taken away."
Understanding flashed in Mila's gaze. She gave a small nod, and decided to simply go on with her assessment without pressing the matter any further. Yuuri didn't need anymore reminders of what he had been through. They were no more incidents for the rest of the check-up. She simply mentioned that she would arrange for new pair of glasses with the right prescription to be made by the end of the week, and that the rest of his body was all in order, thankfully. She bid them good day, but as soon as Viktor opened his mouth and asked Yuuri if he was ready to keep going, she raised an unimpressed brow at the prince.
"Viktor. Ice, painkillers, and rest. That were my only indications. Why do I feel like this young man isn't about to go back to his bed?"
The silver-haired man looked just as guilty as he was, hair scratching the back of his head nervously as he tried to explain himself. However, with quite the argument about the chair idea, Yuuri's repeated consent, and a few pleading looks from the prince, she agreed with a sigh to let them roam around a little. Yuuri was glad; even though he was tired, he didn't feel like staying in bed all day, motionless and alone with his thoughts. Adding to that, his surroundings were absolutely beautiful, and he was curious to see more of them. It was also hard to say no with the way his host was like a child on his birthday, endearingly more than eager to show his guest around.
Viktor was indeed buzzing with barely contained energy as they continued their little exploration. Every now and then, he would stop in front of a painting or a statue and explain in thorough, funny, and very personalized details what this or that piece was about. By the time they exited the wing they were in, Yuuri already felt like he knew more about his host's country than he would have ever learned in any museum. That is, if half the stories Viktor told somewhat held any truth.
They went on and crossed a few majestic main halls, officials and servants politely moving aside to let them through. The walls there were nicely covered with colorful paintings, alongside columns and fountains delicately adorned with golden swirls. There were even skylights added here and there. The palace was truly splendid, but somehow it barely compared to where the host led them next, escaping the activity of one last hall and moving further south. They navigated through some more corridors and entered a wide, open courtyard. The space was filled with vegetation, sand and dirt carefully brushed out of the grey stone path. Vines climbed on the pale walls, and the midday sun shone brightly on the crisp green leaves. Colorful flowers filled every inch between the countless trees, giving the impression that the recreated wood floated in a ocean of pink, red, purple, blue and white petals shivering under the breeze. Birds and bees filled the air with their joyful whistles, accompanied by the occasional chopping sound of a gardener at work. The atmosphere felt nothing short of ethereal. Yuuri inhaled slow and deep. It all felt so fresh, the sun and the air, filled with sweet and earthly smells. Somehow, in the strangeness of it all, this place reminded him of home.
Maybe it was because of the distant smell of the sea perfuming the wind, or the sounds of birds joyfully chirping around them. Maybe it was just the sense of utter peace that instantly washed over him. When he thought of how grey his world had been for the past week...He felt his heart clench with emotion at the sight of this vividly colored garden, so bright and alive. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or sad, tired or rested. There was something surreal about just... being there. Being there, and still breathing.
Yuuri wasn't even conscious of the blissful expression he wore, eyes closed, face tilted towards the sun, and smiling softly. The prince noticed though, leaning in slightly to check on his as-always silent protégé. The man couldn't help the surge of affection warming his chest at the sight. The slave was so beautiful when he let go of his worries, young and innocent features relaxed with delight, perfect black lashes falling heavy on deep brown eyes filled with emotions. Viktor sighed gently. He wanted to see that expression on Yuuri as often as he could. He truly did.
They walked slowly through the garden in complete silence, both alone with their emotions, and the tranquil wisdom emanating from the courtyard. It took a while for Viktor to speak again, voice low as if not to disturbed the little piece of paradise they were in.
"This place is one of my favorites. I thought you might like it." Yuuri smiled, but didn't answer. He didn't need to.
They kept their lazy pace for as long as possible, savouring the moment until the last drop. When they finally reached the other side, Yuuri thought his host would head back to his quarters, ending the tour there. Instead, he took another turn and kept going.
"Are you too tired Yuuri? There is one last place I would like to show you..."
The smaller man assured him he was fine, feeling invigorated by their walk in the garden. A few hallways later, they crossed a large staircase going down. The prince offered Yuuri his hand to help him stand, and simply lifted the chair and carried it down the flight of stairs as if it weighed nothing. He even offered to carry his guest back to his seat, which Yuuri politely refused, heat blossoming on his cheeks. Yes, it did hurt to walk on his own, but it wasn't as bad as to render him invalid. He certainly wasn't about to make a prince carry him around like a damsel in distress. The few shreds of dignity and pride he still had, he would cling go them with all his might.
As they started again on their little promenade, Yuuri realized they were now at ground level. He could see the shining grass and dirt and stone paths through the tall windows. The corridors were smaller on that floor, but nonetheless majestic, with arches running on the ceiling and connecting columns on either sides of the walls. They got lost on the way a few times, Viktor asking people they saw for directions in his mother tongue. Apparently, the prince didn't come in this section of the palace very often.
After a while, they felt the temperature getting warmer, delicious smells filling the air and their nostrils. Suddenly, it was as if Viktor knew exactly where he was going, and Yuuri just sat there, dumbstruck. Smells and sound assaulted his senses, images of another palace, another time, flashing through his mind. He could hear his parents' and sister's voices through fog, muted in what was now only a memory. The... kitchens? The prince had brought him to the kitchens?
They turned left and went through massive revolving doors, before stepping into a large room filled with ovens, counters, food, and people running around and shouting. An open door at the back led outside, where countless boxes of fruits and vegetables were piled up near a dirt path. An opening on the right revealed a few other rooms arranged in the same fashion, all of them filled with the undying energy of cooks and kitchen kids. As soon as they entered, a bearded man with spiky brown hair wearing a white apron approached them with a large smile.
"My Prince! Welcome! What gives us the pleasure of having you here today? Would you need anything for your lunch?"
"Emil! Long time no see!" Viktor answered in the common tongue, subtly indicating to the cook that they had a guest. "And no, thank you. It's just that I have a friend here who is a cook, and I thought I'd show him around our kitchens."
The smaller male frowned slightly in surprise. He wasn't a cook, and more certainly not a "friend". What was Viktor saying?
Emil dropped his gaze to smile at Yuuri, intrigued. His blue eyes looked at him in a inquisitive way, confusion and surprise flashing on his face. The foreigner looked away, uncomfortable at such a direct stare even though it wasn't malicious.
"Ah, a friend, I see... Welcome, my lord...?"
The poor boy was completely frozen. Why was this guy calling him lord? Didn't he know he was a slave? Panicked, he searched for Viktor's gaze at his side. The silver-haired man simply nodded, his thin lips stretched on an encouraging smile. Yuuri turned back towards Emil, stuttering out his answer around a dry throat.
"It-it's Katsuki, sir. Katsuki Yuuri." The bearded man smiled wider, eyes still doubtful but apparently deciding not to push it.
"Well, it is a pleasure to have you here, Lord Katsuki. I must say, we were not prepared for the visit of such a guest." Emil shot a quick glance at Viktor, raising a brow in question. Who exactly was this young foreigner? Apart from the people of the palace, Viktor never talked of having any other friends, and the young man in the chair was clearly a stranger if they had to speak the common language around him. Adding to that, if the cook wasn't mistaken, the costume the boy seemed to barely fill was one of Viktor's. Why would the prince need to lend his clothes to a guest, or a friend as he had said?
His Highness seemed completely unfazed by the other man's confusion, simply grinning even more.
"Oh no need for preparation, we were just passing by... Would it be okay if we did a little tour though? We'll try not to get in your way, but I would like to show Yuuri around."
Emil bowed, nodding. So they were on a first name basis… At least on the prince's part. Intriguing.
"Absolutely, Your Highness, it would be our pleasure to have your visit! Please allow me a few minutes to advise the others..."
Viktor was about to answer when a butler came bursting through the door, heading straight towards them. His hair was pitch black and weirdly styled so that they were flat on top of his head and towered above his face in a straight line. His eyes and skin were as pale as the prince's. The man had such an angry look on his face that Yuuri instantly wished he could vanish, anything to escape the threat heavy in the air. Viktor noticed him tense, and stood a little closer, laying a protective hand on the back of the chair. He didn't want to touch the slave without his consent, but he still wanted him to feel protected.
"YOUR HIGHNESS! Where on earth have you been? I spent hours searching for you!" The newcomer was shouting in earnest, face growing redder by the second. The prince, on the other hand, had a blank look on his face, looking completely dumfounded.
"Searching? For me? Why?"
That seemed to make the other explode even more, as he threw his hands in the air and grabbed his head.
"My prince! I can't believe you forgot again! Won't you ever get used to the fact that you have public audiences every midweek day? What do I have to do so you don't forget?"
The man seemed about to burst into tears, despair making him tug viciously at his strands. Yuuri looked around and realized with great surprise that everybody was either grinning or laughing behind their palm. Why were they all so relax in the face of this poor man's breakdown?
Suddenly, Viktor seemed to come back to life.
"OH! The audience! It's today..? I forgot... How late am I?"
"AN HOUR LATE!" screamed the other, before bursting into crazed sobs. However, nobody seemed impressed by the tantrum, and simply went back to their occupations now that they knew what the commotion was about. The prince's mouth opened on a small "o", and he just shrugged.
"But Georgi, do I really have to go now that it's already been an hour? Haven't they all gone back to their home?"
The butler didn't even answer, simply looking through the silver-haired man like he wasn't even seeing him. That's when Emil stepped in, laying a hand on the prince's shoulder.
"Your Highness, please do Georgi a favor... And you know you can't just let the people leave empty-handed. You owe it to them, you know that."
Viktor sighed, although perking up a bit at the thought of meeting with his citizens. The prince seemed quite affectionate of his people. But when his icy blue eyes flickered to Yuuri, a sharp pang of guilt flashed in his gaze. He couldn't just leave the boy there... But he wasn't sure it was safe to bring him to the audience either.
The slave was looking back at him with a confused, worried expression. Why was this crying man losing his mind? Why was he even screaming at the prince? Why was Emil touching His Highness with so much familiarity? What was going on?
"Yuuri. Hum, you see, every week I hold these public audiences, where the people can address their concerns to me directly and settle their quarrels. I just completely forgot that it was today... I'm sorry to cut short to our little tour, but you can stay in the kitchens for a while if you want. Or you can go back to your room, it's as you wish."
The slave froze. What? The prince was leaving him behind? That couldn't be good.He knew he wasn't welcomed here. Emil had made that clear with the suspicion he showed towards him. Without the prince to shield him, what would happen? He couldn't walk, he was in a wheelchair, how was he supposed to defend himself if things went bad! He tried to take deep breathes, eyes silently imploring His Highness not to leave him behind.
Viktor quickly sensed his protégé's distress. He got on his knees in front of the slave, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
"Yuuri, listen to me, please. I just think it would be safer for you if you didn't appear in front of so many people too soon, especially from outside the palace. Do you understand? Let them get accustomed to you first. Give yourself some time to heal. I... I don't want you to feel overwhelmed. If you come, people will stare, people will whisper. They'll make assumptions before they even know you, and that wouldn't be fair. I just want to keep you safe. »
Yuuri looked away, staring at the ground, breath still short. He understood what Viktor meant, and why he was right, but that didn't make him feel any less helpless... or restrained. He had to remain hidden after all, inside, confined. Even if it was for his own good, it hurt not to have to freedom to come and go as he wished. It didn't help that he wasn't sure protection was really what he would get from staying apart from Viktor. Images of the past few weeks invaded his mind, phantom hands and feet itching on his skin. He subconsciously draped an arm over his stomach, fingers ghosting above sensitive bruises.
The prince noticed the gesture, and gently took the boy's hand and moved it away, laying it lightly above his frail thigh instead. Viktor's fingers felt warm above his own.
"Yuuri, look at me. They're not going to hurt you. They know you're with me. They'll never risk laying a finger on you. It may not appear this way, but the people here respect me. They respect me, and they respect what I hold dear. Even if it seems a little strange to them at first."
The prince looked away for an instant, smiling a bit, lost in some memory. Then, an idea popped in his mind and he turned back to the boy in front of him.
"Yuuri, do you see the man over there? The one with the tanned skin and the big eyebrows?"
The slave looked at the man he was describing, a young adult with dark hair and a gentle smile currently very keen on decorating extravagant cakes. The prince continued speaking as Yuuri watched the confectioner delicately paint some sugar flowers.
"His name is Leo. He is one of the nicest person I've ever met, and he loves sharing his passion with people. He can show you around the kitchens, if you decide to stay here. He is the best guide you could ever hope for. And he will take care of you as you need, I'm sure of that. "
The prince leaned in a bit closer.
"And remember, you are Lord Katuski to them. They cannot touch a lord without repercussions, you know that? You don't owe them anything. You don't have to. You trusted me with Mila, Yuuri. Can you trust me with Leo?"
The silver-haired man shifted his weight back to his heels, locking gazes with Yuuri.
"I won't be gone for long. I promise."
Somehow, even though he wasn't too sure he would ever be able to pull off that lord thing, or got through the next few hours without a panic, those gorgeous blue eyes managed to ground Yuuri in a matter of seconds. The longer he stared into the two topaz drops, the more he found he could breathe and think. It's okay, you're gonna be fine. Not everyone here wants to hurt you, you've seen that with Mila. In any case, it will only be for a few hours.
The boy nodded weakly at the prince. He still didn't feel comfortable being left alone surrounded by all these strangers, but Viktor hadn't given him a reason not to trust his judgment up until now. His argument about the audience made sense, and this Leo boy seemed harmless. After all, he couldn't display any more weakness in front of the silver-haired man. Even if he didn't like it, he would have to suck it up. Anyhow, it felt a lot safer to stay here in the kitchens, surrounded by people who might step up if he was threatened, then having someone push him back to his room, alone, with even less eyes to see. Yuuri cleared his throat a bit, voice still sore and small.
"I'll be fine. I'll stay here, if that's okay. Please go now, I do not want to make you any more late."
Viktor looked at him one last time, trying to read past those wide brown eyes and into his protégé's thoughts. Would he really be okay? In any case, he didn't have much of a choice. After long seconds, the prince finally sighed discreetly and got up, turning to Leo and quickly explaining the situation to the intrigued confectioner, who happily dropped his pastries to trot over to Yuuri. Then, Viktor went to Georgi, patting him on the shoulders and managing to calm the desperate tears quickly enough.
He left right behind his butler, not noticing the room full of gaping mouths he left behind. No one in there had ever, ever seen their prince being as concerned for someone as he had just been for the foreign lord.
