Viktor was woken the next morning by a commotion, and the sound of shouts drifting in through his open window. He stirred, half awake; but before he could make sense of the sounds, his door banged open on its hinges, and four guards walked in. They stood to either side of the door, looking stern; to Viktor's just awake brain, this was incomprehensible. Then, his uncle, the King, entered his room, which he had not done since Viktor had been very small and still cried at night for his parents (his uncle had not come to comfort him, but rather to instruct his nurse to quiet Viktor's noise).
This shocked Viktor into complete alertness. "Uncle…" he said, voice shaking with uncertainty, "What…?"
His uncle regarded him with a stony eye, and finally spoke.
"We arrested a witch this morning. Soon, the execution will take place."
Viktor's heart turned to ice. Surely, surely, it couldn't be….
He tried to maintain a stoic expression, while his heart beat a frightening rhythm against his throat, threatening to choke him.
"Ah. And who…?"
The King stared down at him, disgust evident in his gaze. "Someone we have reason to believe has enchanted you and caused you to take leave of your free will. The herbalist. Yuuri Katsuki. He is being tied to the stake as we speak."
Viktor was on his feet and running towards the door before he had consciously chosen to stand. The guards blocked his way, forming an impenetrable barrier.
"NO! No, uncle, you have it wrong, Yuuri is no danger, he hasn't enchanted anyone-" Viktor's breath was fast, his words tearing out of his throat as through desperate to reach the air.
The King still gazed at him, his lip curling. "See, this is what magic has wrought. You have taken leave of your senses. You try to defy my justice, and you pit yourself against your own family for the sake of this devil. You will be locked here until the execution is over; you will be free then from whatever spell he has you under."
As he said this, the guards marched backwards out of the room, and the King drew out a heavy iron key from his belt. Viktor ran towards the door, desperate fear clawing at his heart, but the door slammed before he could reach it, and he heard, with a cold finality, the lock sliding shut, and a key being turned.
Viktor threw himself at the door, beating it with his fists and feet, as he heard the retinue leaving down the spiral staircase that led to his room. But his door was age blackened oak, harder than steel, and several inches thick; the lock itself had existed for centuries, and was impassable, designed to keep whole armies out if it had to. Viktor flew to the window, sobs tearing hysterically out of his throat, their sound lost in the frantic beating of his heart. He knew what he would find; the window was sixty feet in the air, with a sheer wall all the way to the floor. There was no escape there. As Viktor stared, horror-struck, at the ground, he saw just out of full view in the corner of the courtyard a crowd gathering. And then he heard the terrible, slow beat of the execution drum begin. Viktor threw himself again at the door, the wall, his fists now leaking blood as he beat them against the walls, anything, anything, please, PLEASE-
His fist came into contact with empty air, where he had expected solid stone, and his heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. He lifted the tapestry that had covered his wall for as long as he could remember, feverishly grasping at any shred of hope-
A keyhole. A keyhole in the wall, a small stone missing where it was hollowed out, unnoticeable unless you felt for it. His blood seemed to roar in his veins. There was a keyhole, and if there was a keyhole, there was a door. And if there was a door, there was a way out. He knew the castle was honeycombed with secret passages, but he hadn't known about this one.
But, Viktor realised with a sickening jolt, he didn't have a key. And suddenly, Yuuri's voice came to him, from yesterday which seemed several lifetimes ago- You have to feel your magic as part of you.
Viktor stopped pounding against the wall. He didn't have herb smoke, or Yuuri's hypnotic voice to help him this time. He looked inward, frantically searching, and found what he was looking for. He dropped into the centre of himself, faster than he had before, and felt his magic calling to him. He raised an arm towards the door- he picture his magic extending through the keyhole and then-
With a decisive snick, the door swung ponderously forward on its hinges, revealing a set of spiral stairs which headed straight down in the direction of the main doors. Viktor, pausing only to grab his sword, sprinted into the darkness without hesitating, hoping with every fibre of his being that he would be in time.
In the distance, the execution drum continued to sound.
**********
Yuuri felt the ropes around his wrist, felt the rough wood of the stake pressing into his back. He looked around him in terror at the faces of the crowd; Nishigori was there, tears running down his face in a silent stream, and many other villager that Yuuri treated. He knew their names, their faces, their secrets and their histories, and now they were here to witness his death. They were all staring, horror-struck, frozen in panic, at Yuuri, unable to look away, unable to help. The King was standing at the edge of the crowd, raised up on a dais, his ceremonial sword glittering on his hip and his implacable eyes reflecting the weak sunlight.
As the execution drum continued to split the air with its mournful rhythm, Yuuri saw a man with a black hood approaching, parting the crowd as he came. With a sickening jolt of finality, Yuuri saw that he carried a torch.
Tears began to run down his face, as the torch-bearer drew ever nearer, and Yuuri knew that these were his last few minutes on earth. He had seen death; as a doctor, he know it in many forms, but now he was confronted with the reality of his own, he couldn't seem to comprehend what was happening.
The tears flowed faster, as Yuuri saw the man approach to the edge of the pyre. The torch grew closer and closer to the edge of the wood, until finally, it caught.
As the flames leaped up, Yuuri closed his eyes, not wanting to see them leaping towards him, eager for their job.
Mum, Dad, he thought. Mari. I'll see you soon.
And as the heat grew unbearable, and Yuuri began to feel the scorching flames flickering towards his feet, he had one final thought.
Viktor. Viktor. I love you.
Viktor saw the smoke before he saw the crowd. He had run out of the tunnel, his feet and his heart pounding in an awful synchronisation of terror, and seen the black smudge against the sky. His heart grew colder, and he feared he was too late.
He reached the edge of the crowd, unable to see the pyre, unable to see Yuuri, knocking people out of his way as he ran. Finally he saw it- the stake, Yuuri tied to it, his face soot blackened and tear streaked.
Viktor didn't hesitate. He threw himself into the flames, deaf to the screams and shouts of the crowd and the guards, and flung himself towards Yuuri. Yuuri turned his head, saw Viktor coming, and gasped- and Viktor felt his heart grow warm again, Yuuri was alive, he was alive, there was still hope, there was still time. Feeling his clothes beginning to catch, Viktor hacked at the ropes binding his love to the stake, and as the heat grew unbearable, he hauled Yuuri away, dragging them both over the quickly increasing flames, and leapt the final few feet to freedom carrying Yuuri with him.
Yuuri fell to the ground, coughing, blackened with smoke, but mercifully still breathing.
Viktor stood in front of him, sword drawn, facing his uncle and the guards who had started forwards at his appearance, and drawn back in horror when he had plunged into the pyre.
"SEIZE THEM," came the bellowed command of his uncle, and the guards uncertainly began marching toward their prince.
"No."
Viktor's voice was cold and hard as ice, and rang like a hammer striking steel.
The guards paused, cowed by his authority and his rage.
Viktor turned and addressed the crowd.
"This is Yuuri Katsuki. He has delivered your children. He has calmed your fevers. He has saved many of your lives, and this is how you repay him? You would watch him slaughtered as his reward?" Viktor's ice blue eyes stared out at the villagers, who looked at each other uncertainly. Then, from the back of the crowd, movement. Nishigori had forced his way through the crowd, and came to stand beside Viktor, his back to Yuuri, placing himself between him and the guards.
"He saved my wife, and my children," Nishigori said with iron conviction, "And I will stand between him and death."
Another man walked forward, placing himself next to Nishigori. "He saved me when I had the sweating sickness." He stated into the still air.
As though a dam had broken, the villagers began moving forward, forming a human barrier between the guards and Yuuri, surrounding and enveloping him and Viktor. Yuuri had managed to stand, shakily, on his feet, still coughing- he looked around him in amazement.
And then, one guard broke ranks and moved to stand with the villagers. He murmured to those around him that Yuuri had nursed his mother when she was dying, and that she had had no pain, only peace. Another guard followed him. And another, and another, until the entire contingent of soldiers were gathered around the village people in a ring of protection.
Viktor stepped forwards. "So you see, Uncle, the magic which you have condemned, which you have persecuted, has saved more lives here than you had any idea of. You must see that your hatred for magic for failing to save the life of the Queen has made you blind. Please, listen to reason and spare the man who has healed so many of your subjects."
The King was standing alone on his dais, his eyes narrowed, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "So, you are all under the enchantment. You're all under the thrall of this devil in human shape." The King drew the sword and advanced towards Yuuri, the blade flashing in the sunlight. "I shall have to deliver you all from his devilry myself."
Viktor saw this man, this King, who had given him a roof over his head but no kind words, who had fed him but had starved his loving heart. He saw him advancing towards the man who had given him laughter, warmth and light, and knew that he had already made his choice.
Before the King could get close to Yuuri, another blade flashed in the dim sunlight, and Viktor held his sword out between his uncle and Yuuri. "I don't want to fight you, uncle," he said softly, "But I will not let you hurt this man."
There was a moment of silence as the two of them stared at each other. And then they began to pace, the crowd instinctively moving out of their way, as they stalked back and forth, testing each other's defences.
"I taught you to use a sword, boy," the King growled, "Do not think you can win if you are foolish enough to fight."
Viktor said nothing, his eyes tracking his uncle's footsteps, his own body moving at the same pace. His Uncle suddenly lunged forward; as the blade flashed towards his face, Viktor realised that his Uncle was duelling to kill. They began to fight, each thrusting forward and parrying with a deadly elegance. The crowd was silent around them, no one wanting to distract the two fighters for whom distraction would mean death. Yuuri's face was white, his knuckles clenched over his mouth, his eyes dry and terrified. He was alive, but now Viktor was in peril, and his heart screamed better I had died than him.
In the dance of death that had every eye locked on the combatants, there was a sudden flash, and a scream, and a spurt of blood. Viktor had wounded his Uncle in the shoulder, and one of the King's arms now hung limp and useless.
"Please, Uncle," Viktor spoke into the silence as the King's pain-laboured breathing grated into the air, "I do not want to hurt you. Please, just agree to rescind the order of execution and we can end this now."
The King snarled in reply and lunged forward again, his blade angled for Viktor's neck. There was another flash, a dull thud-
The King lay dead in the dust at Viktor's feet, with a bloody wound across his neck. Viktor stared down at him, knowing that he ought to feel remorse, or at least that he ought to feel something. But all he could feel was a sort of dull ache in his temples, and the shaking of his limbs as the adrenalin left his body. He bent down and closed his Uncle's eyes. There was complete, unbroken silence as the crowd absorbed the gravity of what had just happened.
"Have his majesty's body placed in the chapel," Viktor spoke into the silence. The guards came at his command, lifting the King on their shields and carrying him through the castle gates. Viktor turned, seeking the only pair of eyes he wanted to see.
Yuuri was already stumbling towards him, and as he fell into Viktor's arms, the ice that had encased his heart since he had seen the guards crash into his room that morning finally melted. They held each other for a few moments, silent tears coursing down each of their faces, until they became aware of the watching crowd.
Yuuri turned to look at them, his heart too full of gratitude for their protection to speak. He managed to rasp "Thank you", before he succumbed to his silent sobs and was unable to speak.
Viktor too looked up towards the crowd, noting each face in it, and echoed Yuuri's words; "Thank you."
As though his words were a signal, or a rallying cry, the eerie silence was finally dispelled in a roar of shouts and conversation as the people began to chant, as one, 'Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live King Viktor!"
As Viktor held Yuuri's hand tightly in his own, and tried to smile at the people chanting his name, he knew that whatever the future now held, he at least wouldn't be facing it alone.
Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose and wrinkled his forehead. Looking across the immense desk in front of him, he saw that the pile of paperwork which he had been working on for hours was still at least half unfinished; groaning and stretching, he stood up, making a mental note to remember to reassess the harvesting methods that his kingdom was using, and momentarily forgetting that he had a poodle asleep on his feet. Vicchan woke up, grumbled at Viktor for a few moments, and then stood up, staring towards the door.
Following his gaze, Viktor saw framed in the doorway the one who still, after four months of marriage, made his heart beat as frantically as the first day he had met him. Yuuri was smiling softly, wearing a long dark blue robe which brushed the ground.
"Ah, Yuuri," Viktor called, trying to sound the part of the beneficent monarch, "And how are the children?"
Yuuri stopped leaning on the door frame, and came into the study, which was situated in the widest and airiest tower.
"They've just managed to set fire to the blackboard," he reported in his soft, amused voice, "and they have learned that they are able to do it intentionally, and claim it was an accident. I am considering resigning as head teacher."
Viktor beamed his heart shaped smile, the one that made Yuuri's brain turn to pink fog and his thoughts twist into a muddle.
The magic school had been open for three months, having been Viktor's wedding present to Yuuri. Run in the castle, Yuuri was both the head teacher and only teacher, but only for another few days; by the next week, he had several more teachers, and about thirty more students arriving to join those from the village, drawn from across the land by the proclamation that magic was no longer forbidden, and that the castle was opening as a centre of magical learning.
"If you retire, will you have more free time?" Viktor hummed, closing the distance between himself and his husband and taking both of Yuuri's hands in his own. "Perhaps, for dinner with your charming husband this evening?"
Yuuri paused, pretending to consider, as he eyed Viktor's roguish smile.
"I'm sure I could be persuaded…" Yuuri said, allowing the sentence to curl suggestively into the air between them.
"In that case…" Viktor murmured, closing the last few inches between their faces and capturing Yuuri's lips with his own. Heat raced through his veins; Viktor still hadn't learned to find Yuuri's kisses ordinary, and he doubted that he ever would. They sent sweetness spiralling into his heart, and fire racing across his skin.
"Are you persuaded?" Viktor breathed, drawing back reluctantly, his face inches from Yuuri's own.
"Almost." Yuuri's tone was challenging, and it made Viktor's hair stand on end in anticipation.
Vicchan found himself shut out of the room, and whined for a moment before running to the kitchens, where they were kinder to dogs. The paperwork found itself flung to the floor unceremoniously. And Yuuri, laughing, found himself gently placed on the desk, as Viktor resolutely kicked the door shut behind him, blocking all view of their now entwined figures.
And Viktor thought himself very close to heaven.