Chapter Text
Queen Lilia stared out of her bedroom window with a stony expression, her hands clasped over her flat stomach. How she wished for a child… But despite their years of efforts, she and her husband remained childless. King Yakov was growing increasingly unbearable in his grief, bemoaning to anyone who would listen how disappointed he was not to have a son to carry on their reign. When he died the throne would go to his brother, and the two were not close, his brother always jealous of his position.
“That idiot will run the kingdom into the ground,” he grumbled as he dressed down for the night.
Lilia, tired of the same old rant, looked over her shoulder. “You have only just turned thirty,” she reminded him. “You aren’t going to die tomorrow, and he isn’t going to start his rule tomorrow.” She looked back out the window. “We still may have a son or daughter.”
“Pah,” scoffed the king. “If it hasn’t happened now…” He started on one of his tirades, and fed up with the man, Lilia turned and headed for the door of their room. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk,” she said stiffly. “You need time to collect yourself.”
Yakov huffed. “I need no such thing.” Lilia pulled the door open, and he spluttered in surprise, “Are you going out alone? At this time of night?”
“It is barely eight o’clock.”
“Take a guard with you!” he called, but the door slamming was the only response.
Lilia did not take a guard with her.
She didn’t plan on leaving the castle grounds so she saw no need to make a fuss over an escort. Their gardens were beautiful and very well kept, and she normally enjoyed strolling through them with her husband as the sun shone on the brightly colored petals. Now, in the evening, it was still just as beautiful, but shadows stretched onto the path and many of the flowers had closed, giving it an almost eerie aura as she walked.
As they did whenever she had a quiet moment, her thoughts wandered to what ifs regarding children. What if it finally happened this year? What if it never did? She pondered these as she meandered through the flowers and bushes until she rounded a corner and found an old woman sitting on the bench in the center garden.
Annoyed at having her thoughts interrupted, and irritated her private garden had been intruded, Lilia came to an abrupt stop. “Who are you?” she asked bluntly, fixing the woman with a stern stare. “What are you doing here?”
Ignoring the first question, the old woman answered, “I was just admiring the flowers.”
Lilia bristled. “This is a private garden,” she said. “You can’t be here.”
The woman made a soft tsk sound. “So quick to snap,” she said. “My presence can’t have caused you that much distress, could it?” Lilia continued to look angrily at the woman. “I sense there is something else bothering you. Am I right?”
“My problems are hardly any of your business,” Lilia said, confirming that yes, there was something, but it didn’t involve the old woman.
The woman nodded before patting the spot beside her on the bench. Lilia made no move to join her. “Maybe talking about it will help,” she suggested.
At that, Lilia’s shoulders drooped slightly, just enough to betray her weariness. “It’s no use talking about it,” she said. “Nothing, and no one, can help.”
“Oh you never know,” the woman said. “Why don’t you tell me your troubles. Maybe I can sort them out.”
Despite her previous protests, Lilia was desperate for someone to talk to. To confide in. Her husband the king was only focused on the fact no son meant their legacy was at an end. He worried over the fate of their kingdom, over his brother, over his own selfishness, but never once did he worry over his wife’s devastation of never starting a family. And so, while she sincerely doubted this woman could improve her situation, Lilia gave in and sat down. She allowed herself to let go of decorum and poured out her thoughts and feelings to this stranger. It felt good to let it out. Perhaps an anonymous ear is what she had needed after all.
Time passed quickly, and soon the only light in the garden was from the moon. Lilia wiped at the tears on her cheeks she hadn’t even noticed fall. That seemed to snap her back to reality. She was a queen, she couldn’t fall apart like this. Sitting straight up, she dabbed once more at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
“You needn’t be sorry,” the woman assured her. And, after hearing her tale of heartbreak from years of trying for a baby with no success, she added, “You needn’t be upset, either. I can set this right for you.” At Lilia’s skeptical look, the woman held out her hand palm up, upon which a cup appeared, sporting two handles.
Lilia jumped to her feet immediately, shocked at what she’d seen. “Are you a witch?” Suddenly she sincerely regretted walking alone. Was this woman dangerous? “What do you want?”
The woman merely shrugged at the witch accusation. “I want to help you,” she said. “I can grant your wish for a child, but only if you do exactly as I tell you.” She held her hand out farther, offering Lilia the cup once more.
Unsure what else to do, Lilia took it.
“Tomorrow at sunset, take this cup and place it bottom-up in the north-west corner of your garden. The following day, lift up the cup at sunrise. Beneath it you will find two roses, one red and one white. If you eat the red rose, a little boy will be born to you. If you eat the white rose, you will have a little girl.”
Lilia’s grip on the cup tightened at this, and she looked down at the seemingly ordinary item in her hands in disbelief. “That’s all there is to it?” she asked.
“Yes,” the woman said. “You seem sincere in your desire to be a mother. I wish to help you see that dream become reality. But, whatever you do, you mustn’t eat both the roses. My magic will reward you just as easily as it will punish you. I’m warning you now, my magic and I are offering you one child.”
Lilia nodded, delighted at the prospect. One was more than enough! More than they had thought possible! “I understand,” she said. “Red for a boy, white for a girl. Only choose one.”
The woman nodded. “Follow my words exactly and I will make your dreams come true. Deviate, and you’ll see how quickly dreams can become nightmares.”
Distantly, Lilia knew that threat should not sit well with her. She should clarify what the woman meant by that. Unfortunately, she was too preoccupied with thoughts like shall we have a boy or girl? to give the warning the consideration it deserved. “Thank you,” she said, clutching the cup close to her chest. “Thank you.”
With that, the woman snapped her fingers and disappeared, leaving Lilia once again alone in the garden. The queen hurried through the dark garden back to the castle, steps lighter than they’d been in years.
In the morning, King Yakov busied himself with work like he always did, throwing himself into his duties to distract his mind from more painful topics. He didn’t notice his wife’s attitude change at all.
Lilia felt lighter than she could ever remember. She smiled and thanked her servants throughout the morning, something she was ashamed to admit she couldn’t recall doing recently, if at all. She sent compliments to the cook after lunch and praised her gardeners as she strode through the flowers. All day she anxiously awaited the moment she was expected to place the cup face down on the grass. She carried it with her, puzzling the staff who asked if she required a refill of tea or coffee, seeming even more confused when she kept it empty.
Finally the sun began to set, and she hurried to the north-west corner of the garden. After a few minutes pacing about, she settled on a bright green patch of grass and set the cup down, watching expectantly. Nothing appeared to happen, and after a few moments she peeked under the cup only to find grass. She waited a few minutes and peeked again, but there was nothing. She remembered the woman had said to check the cup come sunrise – how could she wait that long? How could anyone expect her to sleep right now? Still, it didn’t appear standing here staring at the cup was helping to move things along, so she returned to the castle.
Her husband was finishing his dinner in the dining room. “Where have you been?” he asked.
His grumpiness wouldn’t bring her spirits down today. “Trying to find a solution to our problem,” she said.
“What problem?” For she certainly couldn’t have been trying to solve their child issue without him, or he’d have some serious concerns.
Lilia smiled, a rare sight for her husband these days, and simply said, “You’ll see in the morning.” When it was clear that was all she was going to share, the king huffed and returned to dinner.
Before the sun had even begun to rise, Lilia was sneaking out of bed and toeing on her shoes. She hurried down to the castle grounds and made a beeline for the north-west corner. Right where she’d left it sat the cup, no obvious change about it, and she started to reach for it. Just before lifting it, she reminded herself the witch had told her to wait until sunrise. It took a great amount of willpower, but she managed to sit and wait (impatiently) for the sun to rise. As soon as she saw the first golden rays she snatched the cup up.
On the grass before her lay two roses, one red and one white. Lilia quickly picked them up and examined them. They looked perfect and smelled delightful.
“Red for a boy and white for a girl,” she said. “Or…was it the other way around?” She bit her lip, frowning. “No, I’m fairly certain it was red for a boy, white for a girl. Yes. That was it. …Although…” She held the two flowers in her hands, unsure of herself now. She’d been so excited it was a blur.
“If we have a son,” she thought out loud, gazing at the red rose, “He may one day have to fight in battle if we go to war. There have been little uprisings throughout the kingdom lately… He may be killed.” She lowered it and lifted the white rose. “If we have a girl, she’ll stay with us longer, but eventually she will marry a prince and go to live in her husband’s kingdom. Either way, we may end up with no child once again.”
Lilia took the flowers with her and pondered her choice throughout the morning. She could see the pros and cons of each, and the more she thought about it, the harder the choice became. Finally, she decided on the white rose, and she ate the flower in one bite. To her surprise, it was delicious, and overcome by the sensation, she quickly popped the red flower into her mouth as well. It tasted just as sweet, and while she marveled over the flavors she completely forgot about the witch’s warning.
The queen saw no immediate reaction. When she realized what she’d done, she feared the consequence of betraying the witch’s directions was the magic being nullified, for what worse nightmare could there be than their one chance at a child failing?
Not long after, the skirmishes around their kingdom became too much to ignore, and King Yakov left with a small army to squash the rebels before they truly began.
It was during this time that Queen Lilia began to notice signs of pregnancy. Shocked yet happy, she wrote to her husband who, while overjoyed, could not return right away. Lilia persevered, relying on her aids to help her through the worst of the morning sickness and aches and pains. While the king was away, Lilia went into labor.
Because it was in the middle of the night, she was alone in her chambers when labor began. She called for help, but before anyone arrived, she gave birth.
To her horror, it was not to a human child.
What slithered around her legs on the bed was a serpent-like creature. It turned to look at her, and in her fright and disgust she screamed, “Get away from me!” Another labor pain shot through her, and she soon realized another child was coming. Terrified this wingless, dragon looking creature would eat her next child, she shouted again and threw a pillow at it, the only thing within reach. The creature was pushed off the bed and onto the floor, crying out in distress. “Get away!” she shouted again, and she could now hear the sounds of footsteps rushing down the hall toward her chamber.
Fearing the shouts of the queen and the stampede of her servants, the lindworm wriggled across the stone floor, under her bed, and out to the balcony. It hid behind the potted plants as the servants ran into the bedroom, attending to the queen as she birthed her next child. Soon, the cries of a young baby boy split the air, and everyone in the room cheered at the arrival of their new prince.
As Lilia held her son, she thought of the twin born first. The thought made her sick, for how could such a monster come out of her? The more she mulled it over, the more she convinced herself she must have been delirious from the pain of labor and imagined it. No one else had seen the creature, after all. It was all just a bad dream. A nightmare, like the witch predicted. Lilia looked down at her perfect, blonde haired little boy, and decided then and there to dismiss any thought of there being a twin.
“What is the prince’s name, Your Majesty?”
With a fond smile Lilia gazed down at her son. “Yuri.”
On the balcony, the lindworm peered around the potted plants to look inside, watching the queen cuddle the newborn to her chest. Something deep within him ached, though he was too young to understand rejection. All he could do was sit and wait, watching from his hiding place until the queen finally fell asleep. Once all her attendants had gone, the lindworm silently slithered through her room and made his way through the maze-like castle, searching for an escape. By dawn he found a door left cracked open, and he quickly fled the royal grounds.
King Yakov was overjoyed to return home to his wife and child. Yuri was beautiful and healthy, Lilia was radiant with joy, and the castle staff were happy to see their king and queen content. Years passed, and Prince Yuri grew into a handsome young man. So focused on her son, Lilia gave no time to thoughts of creatures or witches.
The same could not be said for the lindworm.
Beyond the castle grounds was a field, and beyond the field was a forest. Deep within the forest was a cave, and deep within the cave lived the lindworm. The wingless, bipedal dragon spent most of his days hidden away and most of his nights hunting prey.
On occasion, though, he followed an old trail back to the castle where he was born. With his clawed forearms he scaled the stone walls, peeking over the balcony wall into the queen’s room, and watched the queen sing the prince to sleep. Some days, hidden behind bushes and trees, he could see the prince playing in the garden, the king and queen watching nearby with smiles on their faces.
It didn’t seem fair. Why had he been instantly banished, and the prince instantly adored?
For years the lindworm watched from afar, alternating between despair and anger as he watched his brother be lavished with such love and attention. Jealousy rippled beneath his scales, and finally the day came where he was pushed over the edge.
“Have you heard?” gushed a maiden on the trail through his woods. “Prince Yuri is to be wed soon!”
Her companion squealed with girlish glee. “Who is the lucky lady?”
“It hasn’t been decided yet,” said the first girl. “King Yakov is planning on sending him on a tour of the kingdom! He is confident his son will find a wife by the end. Oh, I know the prince would love me, if only he just met me!”
Her friend laughed in agreement. “If you love me, you’ll share him!” The two giggled and hurried down the path, gossiping about where they think the prince might visit and how they could attend and catch his eye.
Just off the path, hidden in the weeds, the lindworm seethed. First the prince kept all the king and queen’s affection, now he is to find love with a wife? No, that just wouldn’t do. It wasn’t fair.
“He can’t have everything,” the lindworm said to himself, and slithered back to his cave to contemplate his next move.
Being a prince was boring.
“Sit up straight, Yura, don’t slouch.”
“Yes mother,” he grumbled, barely improving his posture as his mother raked her eyes over him, scrutinizing every bit of him for perfection. He pushed his peas around his plate.
“Don’t play with your food. Eat it or don’t, but make up your mind.”
“Yes mother,” he grumbled again, and pushed his plate away, deciding he was done. “May I go to my room now?”
“Don’t forget you’re leaving at ten tomorrow morning,” said King Yakov. “Be ready by nine-thirty in the great hall.”
“Yes father,” he said, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice. “May I be excused now?” The queen nodded, and Yuri beat a hasty retreat to his chambers.
“Ugh,” he groaned. “This stupid tour is going to be so…so…stupid!” he said, unable to articulate his feelings any better due to his frustration. He heard a chuckle from the attached washroom and turned to glare at his attendant as the man walked into the bedroom. “Shut up,” he said. “You know you agree with me, Beka.”
The man shrugged. “You’re eighteen. You’re an adult. It’s time to start looking for a wife. All prince’s do the bachelor tour at eighteen, right? You’re supposed to enjoy having women throwing themselves at you.”
Yuri shot him a flat look. “You’re an adult,” he countered. “You’re twenty-one, aren’t you? Where’s your wife?”
Otabek chuckled lightly as he walked over to stand before Yuri. “For one, I’m not a prince,” he said. No one was taking him on a fiancé hunting spree around the country. “Two, I’m not looking for a wife, as you well know.” Yuri’s eyes flashed the moment before he grabbed Otabek’s shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. The two stumbled a moment before falling back onto Yuri’s bed.
“I’m not looking for a wife either,” he said as Otabek kissed a familiar trail down his neck.
“I know, Yura,” he said.
Yuri closed his eyes, enjoying the weight of Otabek over him and the feel of his lips on his skin. “I can’t come back without one though.”
Otabek propped himself up on his elbows to look down at Yuri. “I know,” he said again. “I understand.”
Yuri frowned. “What do you mean you understand?”
“I understand you can’t be mine forever,” he said. “I knew from the start I wouldn't be enough for you.” It was nice to pretend though.
“Beka,” Yuri glared, putting his hands on Otabek’s shoulders to stop him from dipping down once again. “You are enough for me. I don’t want some stupid girl, I want you.”
“Tell that to your parents.”
“I will!”
“I was kidding, Yura,” Otabek said. “No good would come from telling the king and queen about us.”
“But-“
Otabek silenced him with a finger to his lips. “There’s a time to hang on to each other, and a time to let go,” he said. “It’s…almost time to let go.”
Yuri glared so hard his eyes began to water. After all, it’s not like he would do something silly like cry over this, right? He pulled Beka back down, nearly biting him in his desperation, clawing at him to keep him close. If their time was almost up, he wasn’t going to waste another minute.
In the morning Otabek woke first and went to the bathroom to straighten out his appearance as best he could. Fortunately he’d had the sense to sneak out of bed once Yuri fell asleep to at least hang his shirt and pants on a chair to avoid them getting too wrinkled. After splashing some water on his face and smoothing out his shirt he returned the bedroom to wake the prince. “Yura,” he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently shaking his shoulder. The prince growled in response and rolled over. “Yura,” he said more forcefully. “Time to get up.” When that didn’t work he went for the trick that worked every time. “Your Majesty?”
Yuri was sitting up and glaring at him instantly. “Don’t call me Your Majesty,” he snarled. “I’m not your prince. Not in here.” Everyone constantly bowed and agreed with him, falling over themselves to please him and it was just annoying sometimes. He just wanted to be a normal human being now and then.
Otabek smiled lightly and used one hand to try to flatten Yuri’s bedhead into something acceptable. “You’re right. I don’t see a prince anywhere. Just my Yura in desperate need of a shower.”
Yuri tsked and pushed his hand away with a scowl. “Jerk.” He scooted to the edge of the bed and threw his legs over the side, getting to his feet. Otabek stood too and allowed him to brush past toward the bathroom. At the doorway, Yuri looked over his shoulder, asking, “Well? You coming?”
Otabek nodded and followed him in, starting the water in the bathtub. “Eventually you’ll have to learn to bathe yourself, you know.” He stuck his hand under the running water, checking the temp. “When you’re married I doubt your wife would want me in here with you two.”
That just sounded like another good reason to not get married in Yuri’s opinion.
When the bath was full Yuri stepped in and sat down, humming happily at the warmth. He took a deep breath and went under, wetting his hair completely and only surfacing when he needed to breathe. It was something he’d done as a child, a game to see how long he could hold his breath, and it was just habit now. He settled back against the tub and felt hands begin to massage shampoo onto his scalp and through his hair. “I don’t think there would be anything wrong with you continuing to wash my hair,” he said. This was his favorite part of the morning.
“Maybe not,” Otabek agreed. It was silent a moment before he admitted, “But I think it’d be too hard for me, Yura.” There was a strange note to his attendant’s voice Yuri wasn’t used to. He suspected if he turned around there would be a strange look in his eyes as well. A sadness that didn’t belong with such a handsome face.
Unsure how to answer, Yuri simply raised a hand and grasped one of Otabek’s, stilling its motion. He kept a hold of it, linking their fingers, and Otabek finished lathering the shampoo into his hair with his other hand.
At nine-thirty on the dot Yuri was waiting in the lobby as requested. He was dressed in his best traveling clothes and Otabek had braided part of his hair to keep it out of his eyes. The king and queen appeared a few minutes later, and they each gave Yuri a hug and wished him good luck.
“Don’t come back until you’ve found a woman worthy to be queen,” the king instructed.
Yuri wondered what would happen if he followed those instructions to a tee. If he simply never found a woman and therefore never came home. The only downside to that would be never seeing Otabek again.
He watched as his trunks of clothing were loaded onto the back of the carriage, the six pristine, white horses at the front were looked over a final time, and then he was being directed into the carriage. He waved a final farewell to his parents, and despite looking for Otabek in the small crowd of servants gathered to see him off, he didn’t see him. With a disappointed sigh he leaned back into the cushions and felt the carriage begin to move.
Off to the first home of the many, many wealthy ladies he was to meet.
In a nearby village, the Katsuki family was finishing up the breakfast rush at their inn. Hiroko passed out the last of the plates to the stragglers while Yuuri collected empty dishes and glasses, taking them back to Mari in the kitchen to watch. Toshiya was busy at the hot spring, tidying up after the first guests of the morning and getting ready for the next wave.
As he watched his mother hurry out to the dining room with another tray of drinks, Yuuri said to his sister, “We need to hire more help. Mom and Dad can’t keep this up forever.”
“They have us.” Mari didn’t look up from the sink she was elbow deep in. “We can’t afford help.”
“But we’re so busy,” Yuuri said. It always felt like they had ten things that needed doing at once. “We have to be able to afford one more person.”
Mari sighed. “Last year was rough. I know you remember. And the year before that… Mom and Dad fell behind on a few things.”
Yuuri remembered the slow nights, but his parents didn’t talk finances with him like they did with his older sister. “How far behind?” he asked.
Mari set the pan she was scrubbing back in the water and turned to look at her brother. Brightest in the village, first to go to university in recent memory. The whole village was proud of him for having a chance at leaving their little seaside village and making a name for himself in the heart of the kingdom one day. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that his tuition, on top of running the inn during a few hard years, had depleted their savings and wracked up substantial debt. Their parents never once considered pulling him from school though, and even if Mari did have it in her to tell Yuuri, their parents had forbidden her from mentioning it to him. They all knew Yuuri would drop out in a heartbeat to come home and work for more than the summer breaks, but he was only a year away from graduating. They wanted him to finish strong. “Just be grateful for a profitable year,” she settled on.
Hardly an hour into the ride and Yuri felt the carriage jolt and stop. He looked out the window but saw nothing but trees. “Hey,” he called, annoyed. “Why’d we stop?”
“Turn around, turn around!” he heard the coachman calling frantically to the horses, who were whinnying and stomping their feet loud enough for Yuri to wonder what was going on out there. He started to open the door, but the coachman cried, “Your Highness, stay inside!”
Now, the king hadn’t been foolish enough to send his only son out without protection. Behind the carriage rode four knights, and Yuri watched as they passed his windows on either side, heard the loud thud of them landing heavy with armor on the dirt path. Frustrated, he opened the door anyway, jumping out to see what was happening.
He instantly regretted it.
On the crossroads before them lay a great, scaly beast. It had a serpentine body with two clawed forearms, and dangerous looking spines running down its neck and back. It let out a roar when it saw him, Yuri alarmed that it seemed specifically irritated to see him.
“Prince Yuri,” it growled, shocking everyone with its ability to speak. “How dare you enter my forest.”
Two knights took up a stance before the prince, the other two venturing closer to the dragon.
“Your forest?” asked Yuri incredulously. “This is my forest. The whole kingdom is mine.” The beast roared again. “Get rid of this thing,” he instructed, and the two knights raised their swords. Within second both closest to the lindworm were swept off their feet by its mighty tail, flung into trees and left crumpled on the ground. The two by Yuri tensed, looking the creature over for a weak spot. “What do you want?” the young prince demanded.
“I want what you have,” the lindworm said. “I want what you take for granted.”
That could be any number of things, Yuri thought with irritation. Gold, power, a prosperous kingdom… “Which is?”
“Your family.” Before Yuri could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, the lindworm said, “Our family.”
“’Our family?’” he echoed. “What do you mean ‘our family?’” Though he didn’t always show it with his bratty teenage attitude, the king and queen were still the most important people in his life, ranking right up there with Otabek. The prince glared furiously. “You stay away from my parents you overgrown inchworm!”
“Our parents,” the lindworm corrected. “As the oldest son, it is only fair I wed first. After all these years alone, the least they could do is grant me that. A bride for me before a bride for you.”
Yuri had enough of this. “This thing is crazy,” he said. “Aren’t you two going to do anything?” The two remaining knights made no move to attack. To the coachman Yuri said, “Get these horses moving!” He hopped back in, and the man once again tried to get the horses to turn around, having more success than the first time. Yuri looked out the window to see the dragon roar and slither into the trees. The carriage swiftly moved back down the path it had come, and they tried another route, but at the next crossroads they were blocked once again by the lindworm. It knew the forest better than anyone, every short cut and secret path.
“A bride for me before a bride for you,” it repeated. “It’s the least our mother can do.”
The coachman turned around yet again and took them home, too terrified to stay in the forest any longer. Yuri stewed over the encounter the entire ride. Either that thing was out of its mind or the queen was hiding something.
Home at the castle far earlier than planned, the king and queen were stunned to see the prince burst into the dining room as they ate lunch. “Yuri?” asked Lilia. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m the one asking questions,” he snapped.
Yakov frowned. “Don’t talk to your mother that way.”
“She’s got some explaining to do,” Yuri said. To Lilia he said, “You want to tell me why some lizard beast is claiming he’s my older brother?”
Yakov scoffed. “Don’t spout nonsense, Yuri. Tell us why you’re back so soon.”
“Because this thing says it’s his right to marry first, and it wouldn’t let me beyond our forest.”
“Pah!” scoffed Yakov again. “What a pitiful lie to get out of your duties, Yuri.” He looked to his wife for agreement but was surprised to see her looking pale. “Lilia?” he asked. “Are you alright?”
The queen shakily set her utensils down, she’d frozen in place at the first mention of the dragon. “You…you saw it?” she asked.
“Saw what?” asked Yakov as Yuri said, “Yeah. A giant snake with legs. You’ve seen this thing before? You know what it is?”
Lilia, normally unshakeable, looked on the verge of fainting. “There was a witch,” she said quietly. “She promised me a child if I obeyed her directions. I…I made one mistake. Everything seemed fine at first, but then this thing came out of me, and…and then you were born, and I thought I had just imagined it…”
“There was another child?!” fumed Yakov.
Lilia had enough left in her to shoot him an angry look in return. “It wasn’t a child, it was a monster! A punishment for not following her instructions! But it disappeared, and I thought it was…gone.”
“Well it’s back,” Yuri said. “And it’s pissed.” Yakov looked ready to explode and Lilia wasn’t out of fainting territory yet. “I’m going to my room,” he announced, and stomped off for the stairs. Behind him he heard his father snap ”Why didn’t you tell me?” and his mother counter with “I thought it was a nightmare!”
Otabek, who was tidying up the ever-messy chambers of the prince, was surprised yet pleased when Yuri threw the bedroom door open. The prince had only left a few hours ago, and he’d been certain it’d be months before they saw each other again, and that everything about their situation would be different and awkward when he returned. “Yura?”
The stress of the interaction finally caught up to him. With a trembling lip he gasped out an attempt at words, and when they failed, he abandoned the effort in favor of running to Otabek and throwing his arms around him. Otabek caught him with a quiet “Oof” and returned the embrace. “What happened?” he asked the shaking prince.
“I couldn’t leave,” Yuri cried into his shirt, squeezing Otabek tightly. “The carriage…” he sniffed wetly, “…we had to turn around.” For one moment Otabek believed Yuri meant he hadn’t been able to leave him. That Yuri had insisted he be brought back to the castle for him. The strange kind of hopeful disbelief shattered into worry when Yuri added, “There was this…this thing…this dragon in the forest…”
“A dragon?” asked Otabek, stunned. “Are you alright?” He tried to pull away to look Yuri over but it only made him cling harder. “What happened?” he asked again.
It took a few minutes for the shock of the morning to wear off and the adrenaline to dissipate before Yuri could explain the arrival of the lindworm and all it had said.
“It must be lying,” Otabek offered, but Yuri shook his head.
“My mother confirmed it just now,” he said. “She used magic to get pregnant, and that thing was born first, and that means that hideous monster is my older brother. My twin.” Yuri’s mind was whirling. “Is my father even really my father?” he wondered. “Or am I just the leftover byproduct of some fucked up curse?” Was he even human? Look at his sibling!
“Hey,” Otabek said firmly, and he finally pulled out of Yuri’s tight hold to grasp his arms, looking him in the eye. “Don’t talk about my boyfriend that way.”
It was the first time either had tried to put a name to what they were, but now was not the time for Yuri. “I’m not your boyfriend!” he snapped, tugging out of Otabek’s hands and turning his back on him. He looked down at his own hands as if they would morph into claws before his eyes. He couldn’t handle something as huge as boyfriend when he wasn’t even sure he was a boy at this point.
Stricken, Otabek managed to hide the hurt with his years of practice at staying professional in any situation. Watching Yuri’s shoulders begin to shake again, he longed to reach out and offer comfort, but he instead clasped his hands safely behind his back. “Of course, Your Majesty. I didn’t mean to overstep. Forgive my assumption.”
The monotone suddenly present in Otabek’s voice snapped him out of his self…pitying? Loathing? He wasn’t certain what he was feeling, but he whirled around in alarm to see Otabek opening the bedroom door. “Beka-“
“I’ll send…someone,” he said, unsure who was appropriate but convinced anyone but himself was more suitable right now.
“Beka, wait,” he said. “I need-“ The door clicked shut. “…You.”
The prince stared at the door, stunned, before shock and rage and a combination of other unmanageable emotions bubbled to the surface. “Ahh!” he shouted, and he grabbed the sheets and blankets from the perfectly made bed Otabek had just completed, yanked them off and threw them to the floor. Not nearly destructive enough, he next grabbed the bedside lamp and hurled it at the stone wall. “That stupid fucking tour,” he growled. “And that stupid fucking dragon.” On a rampage, he prowled over to his desk and shoved everything off, watching in satisfaction as the inkwell burst and bled black over everything. His bookshelf was next, with books and trinkets flying through the air as he attacked everything but his actual problems.
Finally, the only object left worth his ire was his full-size mirror on the wall. The one he looked into every morning with Otabek over his shoulder, normally showing a proud prince with his loyal companion, but was currently only reflecting back a scrawny, angry, lonely teen. He glared at his reflection – the golden circlet Otabek said complimented his yellow hair so well, the green traveling clothes Otabek thought brought out his eyes, the little braids in his hair Otabek had done so his bangs wouldn’t get in his way.
“Ahh!” he cried again, and before he knew what happened he punched his reflection – and consequently his glass mirror – right in the face. “Shit,” he hissed, immediately shaking his hand and sending little blood droplets flying from his cut knuckles. He cradled his hand close to his chest and leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. “And fucking stupid me.”