CHAPITRE 8: Blind
Leo turned out to be just as sweet as Viktor had described him. He didn't seem to mind making most of the conversation, as he took Yuuri from one station to another, presenting him to the people and explaining their roles. He chatted easily about life in the kitchens, what they were cooking for lunch and supper, how hectic it got when the prince organized a feast... He asked a few questions too, curious to know who was the man the prince was so interested in. However, when his guest suddenly fell silent when he asked where he came from, Leo stopped trying. He wasn't sure how the little man had ended up in their palace, especially in such a weakened state, but he obviously was not ready to talk about it. Or maybe he had been told not to.
To Leo, it was clear Yuuri was not and had never been a lord. A lord did not know how kitchens worked and most certainly did not use them. A lord did not travel without his own clothes and toiletry. A lord did not appear so beaten up and malnourished. And above all, a lord did not keep his eyes on the floor, hesitant to look up, and even more to speak up. The confectioner could not figure out why the prince would try to pull such a stunt, but that was not his to question, and he did not want to make his guest anymore uncomfortable. He simply went on with their conversation, and explained how he had moved from a remote village to Viktor's palace so he could perfect his skills, and ended up becoming chief confectioner. At the man's gentle babbling, Yuuri slowly managed to relax. They ended up discussing how they both made their favorite desserts and pastries, while eating pieces of freshly-made meat pie his guide had grabbed for them. Time flew much quicker than Yuuri had expected, and he was even discreetly smiling at Leo's enthusiasm when it came to cake decoration. The man was more creative than any chef the former cook had encountered, and the heavens knew he had met some extravagant people desperately trying to get the king's attention during his time in his parent's kitchens.
About three hours had passed when the prince reappeared, nervous eyes searching the crowd of cooks and servants. Even from afar, Viktor seemed tense, but the feeling melted away when his gaze settled on a joyfully gesticulating Leo and timidly grinning Yuuri. The prince made his way to them, avoiding pots and kitchen kids along the way. The confectioner turned to greet him, surprised to see him back so early. Viktor ran a hand in his hair guiltily.
« Ah, well, since I was so late, most of them had already left, and I was lucky enough not to have a major case today, so... »
Leo rolled his eyes at the carelessness of his prince, but let it slide with a sigh and went on to ask how the audience had been. They talked for a while, Viktor quickly assessing his protégé's state from the corner of his eye. Yuuri miraculously seemed well and somehow at ease, but the prince caught a few ill-hidden yawns betraying his fatigue. He said a few last things to Leo and managed to cut short to the conversation, thanked him for his time and kindness, and led Yuuri back to the royal suites. As soon as they stepped into his room, the man felt exhaustion wash over him. Viktor told him he would come back for him went supper was ready. Yuuri half-heartedly nodded, thanked him, and collapsed on the bed as soon as the door clicked.
The days passed, and they quickly adopted their little routine. Viktor would wake him up with a knock on his door, and Yuuri would briefly debate whether he would sleep in or get up to carefully bathe, before he always choose the latter; he did not want to appear dirty to his royal host, and always wanted to at least clean his wounds. Then, they would eat breakfast together, Yuuri would choose his outfit for the day from the prince's extensive wardrobe, and they would visit Mila so she could keep an eye on him and change his bandages. Then they would go on with their exploration of the castle. After a week, the slave had seen most of the palace. The courtyard and the kitchens, of course, but also two libraries, an empty audience room, the armory, a ballroom, the main reception hall, a few smaller lounges, the gardens, as well as the servants' wing, right above the kitchens. That last visit had caused a ruckus, the domestics being startled by Yuuri's presence, even more along with his weird-looking chair. Apparently, the prince did go and greet them once in a while, but rarely brought a guest with him, AND much less a lord. Yuuri still wasn't sure how he felt about that whole pretending-to-be-nobility thing, but Viktor had never brought it up again and Yuuri didn't dare ask a question he wasn't asked to formulate. Of course, they were still some places that Yuuri hadn't set foot in; the castle's underground cells, for obvious reasons, although Viktor assured him they were mostly empty, the royal farms and stables since the ground was too muddy for his wheelchair, the ministers' wing the prince carefully kept him away from... They also never turned left when they walked out of their rooms. Yuuri assumed that since they were almost at the extremity of the building, there simply was nothing to see on the other side.
The morning of the seventh day came, just as Yuuri was beginning to lose count of the days. They were eating their breakfast together as usual, clad in their respective bathrobes and messy morning hair, when a lady butler came knocking. She bowed to both men, and sternly reported to the prince that he had been summoned to a council meeting. They froze for an instant, words hanging heavy in the air. A council. A war council. Viktor looked at his protégé, mouth in a thin line. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken thoughts.
Yuuri felt guilty for his master's suddenly tense shoulders and was greatly uncomfortable with the growing silence, so he decided to take it upon himself to speak up first. He put on his best lord voice, and sat a little straighter, and turned towards the lady. A pale smile stretched his lips, the gesture still feeling foreign to his features.
"Thank you for the information." He shot a quick, wary glance in Viktor's direction. "I... I suppose His Highness will join you in a moment."
Viktor caught on Yuuri's attempt at dismissing the lady, and released some of the tension rooting his body in place.
"Yes, thank you Sara. Though I know the way, you do not need to escort me. You can go back to your duties."
Yuuri let go of the breath he was subconsciously holding as she left with a stiff bow. Although he was slowly feeling more confident to speak for himself, he was still very anxious to do so. The fear of saying the wrong thing, to the wrong person, at the wrong moment, still kept his lips shut most of the time. On the other side of the table, a flicker of pride wavered in the otherwise strained blue gaze.
Viktor took a last piece of his breakfast, and slowly got up, movements hesitant.
"... Do you want me to bring you to Mila before I go? Or Leo?"
Yuuri shook his head softly, appreciating the prince's effort at not leaving him alone.
"No thank you, I'll be fine... I think I'll continue reading the book we borrowed yesterday."
The prince forced a smile at his protégé's answer. He didn't think he would ever stop being surprised by how selfless the man was. Of course, Viktor, go ahead and attend this war council, while I wait here, alone and waiting to know if my country has ceased to exist or not. I'll be fine Viktor, you can leave me in the kitchens surrounded by strangers on my first day here, because you weren't clever enough to remember you had an audience that morning. Will I eat lunch alone on my second day with the door locked, just in case, because you have to go help out the victims of a major bakery fire in the nearest village? Why, yes, even if I don't even know when you'll be back and I'll end up staying trapped between the four walls of my room for the whole day. Am I reading books in the common language, which I do not fully master, because there is none in my native language? Absolutely, and thank you for the gift of a simple past time, my prince, I am grateful.
The man was too kind for his own good, even with the ones who held him captive. Viktor wasn't sure what incredible deed he had done to deserve such a precious person stumbling into his life. The only thing he knew was that he would take care, and protect, and try to give back a thousand fold the joy Yuuri gave him when he smiled, laughed, made jokes, and told him a fraction of what he really thought in that colorful, forgiving mind of his.
But for now, he had to attend this council meeting, and bring back what could be dreadful news to the younger man. He wiped his hand on the embroidered napkin, gathering his courage to move from his spot as he did so.
"Alright. Take your time eating, Yuuri, the servants won't be there to clean before another hour anyway. I'll try not to be gone for too long... Yuuri?"
The slave raised his eyes at the uncertainty laced in the prince's voice.
"I'll tell you if there's any news from your hometown. If you want me to. "
Yuuri thought about it for an instant, before nodding in assent. If there was anything to know, he preferred learning it now than much later, too late perhaps. No matter what the news were.
Viktor nodded back, before vanishing in the bathroom to get ready. Fortunately, Yuuri didn't mind much being left alone; he used to often enjoy being on his own. Those were the rare moments he was able to let his mind free, creating and thinking at will. Now, it allowed him to let his guard down somewhat. He was getting used to being around Viktor, Mila, and slowly but surely Leo as well, but any other human presence had him twitchy and nervous. He still wasn't sure who could really be trusted and who couldn't, or when this peaceful, restful dream would shatter and he would be back to living in basements, held and fed like some toy to poke and prod at will.
Yuuri continued nibbling at his breakfast, cautiously eating some local nuts. Although he ate quite well the first few days, he now felt full after a few bites. For the sake of his host and sometimes Leo, he would try to eat half of his plate, but would never go over. When Mila had asked about his small appetite, he hadn't been able to explain why his stomach felt suddenly so tight. After three nights of blissful sleep out of pure exhaustion, his eyes had stopped closing as well. Or when they did, it was never for long. They were always wrenched open by a cold sweat, feelings and images too real to simply be dreams. That, he hadn't told Mila. Nor Viktor. But soon enough, the darkening circles beneath his eyes and persistently pale skin would do it for him.
Makkachin had come to rest her head on Yuuri's thigh, perhaps sensing his distress. Or maybe she was just interested in the food the slave seemed to have given up on. The man wasn't as weak to her pitiful puppy eyes as her master was, but she still managed to persuade him into slipping her a piece of cheese once in a while. She was good company, and Yuuri couldn't resist very long to the guileless affection she kept on giving him. She had quickly grown accustomed to the man's presence, and didn't hesitate to lick his fingers in comfort or to cuddle with him when she sensed something was wrong. Yuuri thought Viktor was very lucky to have her.
The lucky man in question eventually reappeared, hair now neatly combed, strong body clad in slim-fitted black and burgundy velvet, grace and confidence irradiating from him as it always did when he had to take on his royal responsibilities. Yuuri felt himself shrink beside the imposing presence, but as usual, the prince looked at him with that gentle smile of his, and the quiet authority displayed melted into something more... human. More him. Something that was even beginning to be familiar.
Two and a half hours had passed when Viktor left the meeting room, feeling tired, discouraged, and yearning for Yuuri's presence just as much as he dreaded it. Nothing quite positive had come out of his counsellors' briefings. As he already knew, Yakov and a part of his garrison, the soldiers who came back with Yuuri, were currently serving as the capital's guards at the king's palace; since most of the country's knights and warriors had gone to war, a portion of the army had to be called back to ensure some minimum protection, mostly of the monarch. Viktor didn't mind the decision at all, and it had brought him Yuuri after all, albeit in a very regretful way. What pleased the prince much less was the king's newest request, demanding an extension of service from his men. Most of the soldiers currently enrolled had done so on a voluntary basis. They had all been given a contract, stipulating that if they participated in five victorious battles, they would be released from service. But as it seemed, the conquest was so successful that most of the army would soon have fulfilled their duty. To ensure that the battlefields wouldn't suddenly be deserted of men, the king asked for a supplementary three winning battles as a minimum of service.
Yuuri's country did have an army, but it was small and disorganized for the most part, as per the pacific values of its people. They hadn't been through a conflict in hundreds of years, and had always managed to alleviate tensions through negotiations and alliances. They had entertained commercial trades with Viktor's country for a few centuries, and most likely would never expect an offense on their part in such a time of peace. Of course, Viktor's greedy king had seen this as the ideal situation for an invasion. And evidently, he had been right. Their armies had encountered little to no resistance, and were making their way through the cities and villages as easily as a butcher's knife through butter. Since the battle of Hasetsu - the conquest of Yuuri's hometown -, the men had only been getting closer and closer to the capital. It was only logical from the king to ask for an extension when so close to the goal.
Viktor was not surprised, in fact, he had anticipated something of the sort would happen when he was kindly asked to participate in the war, as the dutiful prince he was. The five-victories contract had seem much too simple, especially considering the king's usual avarice. The prince sighed. He did not have much of a choice. His citizens were already abroad, mostly young men and women seeking to prove themselves, high on victory and probably eager to keep going. Viktor thought the situation so unfair; they probably had never lost someone before, and there they were, being offered a purpose on a silver platter and promised an easy war, for which they even signed up voluntarily. And with how easy the battles had been so far, the prince wouldn't be surprised if most of them had not hit the wall of disillusionment yet. But it would come. Oh it would come, and when it did, it will be too late. He had tried to stay uninvolved in the conflict, but his own feeble armed force could not stand up to the king's, and a sly reminder of that fact ended the discussion. He would never force violence onto his people, so instead the prince would give them the choice. Viktor could not make the decision for them, just as he had not been in any position to keep them here in the first place. If his soldiers accepted the new terms of their contract, he could not force them to come back. All he could do was add a sentence or two in the letter informing his troops of the king's request, stipulating that they were free to refuse and come back home after their five victories. Not that he truly expected them to. Pride, honor, and glory were terrifyingly powerful motivators.
As his thoughts roared in his mind, his feet led him to his chambers, steps even heavier than when he had left. He had nothing to bring back to Yuuri. Nothing but news of his homeland's upcoming defeat. The prince sighed one last time as he pushed his room's door open, trying to leave his fears behind. Negativity wouldn't do; Yuuri needed him to be his backbone, he couldn't weigh him down with his own hopelessness and frustration.
Viktor walked to the door connecting their rooms, Makkachin on his heels wagging her tail happily. He knocked softly, waiting for a small voice to tell him he could come in before grabbing the doorknob. He was pleasantly surprised to feel the metal cooperate beneath his fingers. Yuuri leaving his door unlocked, even though closed, meant he was starting to trust the servants, and by extension, Viktor as well. Warmth chased away some of distress in the prince's heart.
Just as he had said he would be, the dark-haired man was comfortably snuggled in the cushions near his bed, reading the book on the country's traditional cuisine and celebration rites he had picked the day before. The brand new glasses Mila had ordered for him were delicately perched over his nose, eyes focused as they slowly moved over the words. He looked quite peaceful, in all honesty. Viktor was relieved and quite intrigued not to find him as the tensed, apprehensive ball of nerves he had expected. He did not have to heart to be the storm after the calm, so he moved black to close the door, but as soon as he did so Yuuri lifted his gaze from the paper to greet him.
"How was the meeting?" Viktor warily smiled, uneasiness filling him at Yuuri's almost trivial question.
"Well, hum, tiring I would say, as usual..." He went silent and dropped the smile. "I'm sorry, Yuuri. I don't have any news from Hasetsu. All I know is that we... it looks like we're winning the war." The prince looked down, unsure how to express how he felt. "I'm sorry."
The slave didn't say anything, simply stared at the emptiness in front of him as he softly nodded. A sad little smile stretched his lips, and he went back to reading his book. The prince frowned at the lack of reaction from his protégé, but looking closer Viktor realized the man wasn't even seeing the words in front of him, shiny eyes staring blankly at the paper. Yuuri shifted, suddenly self-conscious under the other's heavy gaze. Viktor looked away and was about to leave and give the man some space, when an idea timidly grew in his mind.
There was still a part of the castle he hadn't shown Yuuri yet. He knew the man had some sort of creative streak, so maybe he would enjoy it, but Viktor had hesitated so far to bring him, a part of him still afraid of judgmental reactions from others. However, this time seemed as good as any, and his protégé's happiness came way before his own comfort. Who knew, maybe the distraction would help the slave a bit with his grief.
"Yuuri?" The dark-haired man looked up from the paper with some effort, soft brown eyes filled with barely held back emotion. « There's... There's one last place I would like to show you. If you want to see it, that is. »
Yuur gave the thought a few moments. "Where is it? "
"Hm, well... I'd like to keep it a surprise." Viktor answered dismissively with a smile. Yuuri frowned. The prince realized his mistake and quickly explained himself. "It's nothing weird or dangerous, I promise, it's just a little... unusual. And very important to me."
The other man seemed to hesitate for a few more seconds, but curiosity and a need for distraction got the best of him, so he nodded and stood up. Viktor grabbed the wheelchair they had left at the side of Yuuri's bed, and they both went into the prince's room.
Makkachin had went back to napping on her cushion when her master had stopped giving her attention, and she barely batted an eye when both walked back in. They went on with their morning routine earlier interrupted, Yuuri getting dressed for the day and Viktor tending to Makkachin's fur. When they were ready, Yuuri sat in his rolling chair and Viktor pushed them out of the room.
To Yuuri's surprise, instead of turning to the right as they usually did, Viktor led them to the left. They passed the five or six royal suites the left wing of the palace housed , then followed the hallway and turned right. On one side guest rooms succeeded each other, and on the left, a glassed walkway led to an adjacent building. Soft carpet muted the sound of Viktor's heels and Yuuri's wheels as they stepped into the passage, contrasting with the usual echo of the otherwise marble-covered area. The bridge was bathing in light, the sun warming the air through the large windows. On the other side, they arrived in front of two wide doors, that Viktor deftly unlocked with a golden key he took out of his pocket. It got noticeably colder as they stepped inside, the stone walls and aeration apparently keeping the place cool. As they moved further into the smaller building, half-opened doors and muffled sounds told Yuuri they were in a gymnasium. Intrigued, he wondered which sport the prince played, and if he had forgotten his guest's limited capacity of participation...
After a few more turns, they approached a closed room, light and music seeping through the cracks. Viktor pushed the wooden panel open, guided them inside, and immediately went forth to greet the two people occupying the room at the moment.
But Yuuri never saw who it was the prince happily hugged.
He never heard the cheerful "Yurio! Otabek! It's been so long, how have you been!" his protector's joyful voice shouted. He barely even saw the tall mirrors covering the right wall, and the pale, used wooden floor. He only saw for an instant the naked feet of a young boy moving gracefully across the surface at the melody floating in the air. And then he was gone. Elsewhere. A few eternities away. A second before his life turned grey. Yuuri never felt his body rise to his feet, eyes wide open and yet seeing nothing. He never heard the worried voices calling out to him, once, twice, thrice. He barely felt himself suddenly fall towards the hard floor of the studio.
The studio.
A dance studio.
And then, Yuuri couldn't feel anything at all.
