#I’m fighting for my life in a snow temple rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katzuyas · 8 years ago

Text

to keep you warm

pairing: victuuri words: 8374 rating: teen and up tags: emerald city inspired fantasy au, witches, ice and fire powers, fate & destiny, opposites attract, pining, fluff, mild gore, happy ending, kissing, implied chris/phichit, yuri is the best wingman even if it’s chris who is more helpful, heavy on metaphors

summary: How do you love someone who you can't touch? Simple – with a force of burning fire, enough to melt your heart.

- or simply the fic where Victor is the Witch of the North and Yuuri is the principal apprentice of the Rising Sun and they can't be around each other without someone getting hurt (it's Victor, it's always Victor)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: below you will find the fic, accompanied by art the incredible @maniacani did for me, so please go take a moment to appreciate her beautiful work! I’m so happy with how everything turned out ahhh YALL GO COMMISSION ANYA RN SHE’S WORTH ALL THE MONEY I PROMISE!!!!!

ps. it might be a good idea to read on ao3 ^u^)b

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

***

The snow hissed under the heavy weight of their sleigh as they raced through the white hills. The skies were clear and the sun was shining down with fierce dedication, reflecting off the ground and almost blinding. It did nothing to melt the snow, however, the crisp chill that followed behind Victor's cape, tugged on by the wild winds, kept everything perfectly frozen – the ground glimmering as if it was layered with diamonds, trees fanged with icicles that made the winds sing, snowflakes dancing and shimmering in the air around.

Victor didn't necessarily hate the brightness, but–

"Why the fuck do we even need to go there?"

Yuri was angrily kicking the crystal ledge the reins of the wolves pulling the sleigh were tied to. It didn't bother the beasts, but the echo was breaking the peaceful beauty of the scenery and ruining Victor's contemplation.

"It's all pointless anyway, unless you're planning to kick the bucket soon, which I think we'd all notice," Yuri continued with a snide curl of his lip, shooting him an irritated glance. "So why does anyone even bother? This is a complete waste of my time."

Victor only took a deeper breath to resist from rolling his eyes. Yuri could be such a baby.

He smiled at him instead.

"And what else would you rather be doing? Wrecking havoc on some innocent villagers' crops?" he suggested, watching the grin, violent as a spring storm, show up on Yuri's face.

"Better that than being stuck in a tiny room with four disasters of your calibre," Yuri chipped in. "Who knows what kind of a disgusting tea party you’ve got prepared."

Victor’s smile turned into a sharp grin as well and he looked over his shoulder at Yuri. "Who said anything about tea?"

It made Yuri snort and Victor chuckled.

Oh, he had no idea.

Somehow, Victor was starting to enjoy himself just a little bit more.

***

They arrived at twilight. The sun was already setting in pinks and oranges, bleeding over the width of the horizon, as it dipped down under the crust of the earth. It came as no surprise that Chris was already waiting for them, veiled in shadows of the incoming night and holding out his arms to Victor in a warm welcoming gesture.

"Brother," Chris greeted him, and Victor stepped into the embrace, their elements curling around them like old friends – darkness creeping up to his thighs like a dog expecting to be pet and frost laying a arm across Chris’ shoulders, joining in on the hug.

"It's good to see you again, Chris," Victor replied. "How have you been? I see your friends are as well behaved as ever."

Behind the Far West, hidden from view of ordinary humans, the shadows curled and bended, shapeless but taking form and shifting, changing, wild and untamed beasts with eyes looking straight into the void of the universe. They were relaxed now, lazy even, but Victor knew well that at a second’s notice they’d be ready to pounce and devour anyone who dares to offend their master.

He smiled, and Chris returned it.

"Of course they are," he said as if the beasts were only trained kittens. "The rest of you have your primas here, but what would I be doing on my lonesome with no one to talk to? At least they're happy to keep me company."

He pouted lightly, looking at Victor with accusatory eyes, which Victor laughed off immediately.

"You know you’re always welcome to spend time with me and my winds," Victor told him, and he felt the shadows tighten around him, purring in approval. Chris laughed, too.

"I might just take you up on that." He winked. "But seeing how much my little friends like you, I'd rather not. I'm the jealous type, you know that."

It made Victor chuckle, the subtle tone of teasing light on the syllables, but before he could reply to Chris, there was a sudden whoosh of air around his back.

"Disgusting," Yuri clicked his tongue.

Without as much as turning around Victor knew Yuri was up to no good. When he glanced over his shoulder, he instantly knew he was right. The sleigh seat was empty and the air smelled thickly of the spring storm and rain, which has carried Yuri away. Probably as far away from them as possible.

"That your prima?" Chris asked, discreetly sniffing the air.

"Who still has a lot to learn, yes," Victor nodded, amused. "Is everyone else already here?"

The atmosphere between them thickened and the last rays of the setting sun disappeared, leaving the Temple grounds shrouded in darkness. Chris seemed to be glowing now, a faint light coming from his eyes and skin, like the soft halo of stars across the sleeping, foggy sky. When he opened his mouth to answer, he breathed the night, which hung around his face gracefully, almost a veil of black lace.

"Mother East is here," Chris said and the dark pulsed around them as if it was fighting against something to keep them tucked away in the shadows.

"What about–?" Victor started, but Chris beat him to it.

"Still waiting for the South. It seems like it'll be another day at least."

"Well then." Winds curled around his fingertips like a glove, cold and comforting, before Victor took Chris under the arm. "Let's have some fun while the night is still young."

Chris’ laughter in his ear, they climbed the stone steps to the Temple while the night caressed their backs and bathed the world in darkness.

***

The time went by fast, and the oppressive feeling of the Rising Sun was back too soon: harsher and closer, coming from the east wing of the Temple and making Victor cling to his mantle of snowy storm for salvation. He never enjoyed being this close to the Witch of the East, but sometimes it was required. Victor dreaded every second of it, but from the playful light and slight upcurl of his lips no one would ever be able to tell. No one, except for Mother East herself, as always.

He was walking down to the Northern Altar, planning to make an offering to the primordial gods who bestowed protection upon him, but something didn’t sit right in the world somehow.

There was nervous energy in the air, vibrating across Victor's frosty skin and echoing in the cracks of ice over his face. The winds were abuzz, shaken and uneasy. He tried to reach out to them, but they shied away from him, making him frown.

That was, until one of them brought him back a whisper.

A whisper, nothing else.

A scrap with no explanation.

No voice, no tone, no meaning; nothing. Just the words:

"Come to me, my child."

"Come."

"Come to me..."

And so, Victor closed his eyes, and allowed Mila, the Breeze of the Midlands, to take his hand and lead him towards it.

***

His shoulders were glowing, light on his fingertips, but when Victor caught the man's eyes, expecting to see stars, he was engulfed by a feral inferno of burning passion. His breath stuck in his throat, heavy like the scent of smoke which hung in the air around them like a perfume. Storm curling around his ankles protectively, gusts of icy northern wind hugging him tight to keep him cool, Victor stood frozen in place.

The warm light radiating from the man's very presence was melting layers of his skin into precious diamonds that dripped down to the stone tiles in splotches of frost, but he couldn't help himself from getting even closer.

"You should leave," the man said with spooked eyes that only drew Victor in.

He blinked, a veil of glass before his eyes shifting his vision in a myriad of colours like a kaleidoscope.

"You're starting to melt."

Concern was now tangible in the airy tone, but Victor was always selfish: he disregarded everyone's wishes except his own, and he did so now.

"Who are you?"

He took another step closer, off the garden path and into the grass, frost forming right where he set his foot, but neither of them paid any attention to it. Their gazes remained locked in a curious pull, yet Victor noticed that the man took a step back just as he stepped forward.

The air sizzled with something he couldn't quite place, but desperately wanted to know more.

"Stay back," the man warned. "You'll get hurt if you come any closer. I don’t want that."

Victor stared.

It’s been so long since anyone denied him anything, he was grounded in surprise. The empty hole in his chest, the heart that he believed was a stone, a deadweight, for centuries; it was waking up suddenly – a shiver, a tremble, a breath of life through his parted, cold-bitten lips.

"Who are you?" Victor repeated, more insistently.

The man's fingers moved, only a slight hesitation to the curve of his knuckles, but it straightened as soon as he steeled his back. Victor's eyes, drawn inexplicably to the slightest shift, followed the movement: up from the man’s side, clad in a beautiful golden gown that made him shine brighter; to the lips that looked dry and parched, and Victor's muscles jumped as if he was about to move, but forced himself to still; and finally to the left of his chest where the heart was.

Simple beauty and grace in every move, the man performed a perfect greeting before Victor, showing him full respect his station deserved. The winds hummed in sweet appreciation, a caress of cold satisfaction rubbing against Victor's temple.

After an elegant flip of the wrist, the man knelt before him, gliding on the very air itself.

"I'm the principal apprentice of the Rising Sun," he introduced himself, and Victor's lungs were squeezed by the invisible pressure the name of the Witch of the East evoked.

Despite the burning heat on his face, he took a step forward, watching with delight how surprise flashed in the man's eyes. They were wide, expressive, always moving like two orbs of plasma just waiting to swallow and drown him. When Victor went to one knee and lifted his hand to push up the respectfully lowered chin, his fingers steamed from the contact of their skin.

"Your name," he breathed out a string of freezing fog, excited and careless. "What's your name?"

The smell of smoke clung to his shoulders now, heavy and oppressive, but Victor welcomed it. Dehydrated lips parted and the fire searing inside the man's mouth made it hard to look away. Not that Victor would, he was too enraptured by–

"Yuuri," the man said. "My name is Yuuri."

Victor's fingers were blistering, the hissing of melting flesh loud in the silence of their locked gazes. Before Victor could say anything, Yuuri was moving. Swift and fast, not a blink later he was a few steps away, putting distance between them again. He bowed, his hand still on his chest, angled towards Victor with respect.

"It was a pleasure to meet you," Yuuri said, words ringing true in the chill gathering protectively around Victor's cape.

And in another blink he was gone, only the stinging touch of heat on Victor's face and his half melted fingers a sign of his presence.

Walking across the ground layered with glittering snowflakes to where Yuuri previously stood, Victor looked up at the imposing Tree of Destiny. It had brought him here, the blessed whisper that pulled him away from his duties right into the orbit of the small, budding sun, like a breath of wind leading a bird back to its nest.

Maybe sometime before here and now Victor would have questioned it, but as his skin covered in fresh tissue of cracked ice, he couldn't find it in himself to curse his fate. Not this time.

"The pleasure was all mine," he whispered to himself, a treacherous gust carrying his words to whisper them right against Yuuri's ear in a soft caress, a promise, a prelude of spring.

***

He saw him again after that day, a glimmer of gold in the sea of reds, blacks and oranges, in the tail of the Rising Sun. And he saw him again, atop the Morning Tower, looking out towards the east and soaking in the first rays of the sun, which was lifting its head from slumber. And once more, overseeing the preparations for the morning ritual, focused face, drawn eyebrows, a frown around his lips... glowing.

Victor was enchanted.

It was one thing for the winds to play together, to fool around and kiss and tell. Victor had done it all before. He wouldn’t mind doing it now, either.

But Yuuri was not a wind.

He was not of his domain, he was not like him, like them. He was different. He was dangerous.

His touch churned flesh, melted Victor's skin, left imprints on his body – marks that he couldn't help but crave, but which, if not careful, could turn him into a puddle of water with no soul, no heart, no future left.

Yuuri was everything, when Victor was nothing. He was warmth, when Victor was cold. He was order, when Victor was chaos. He was life, when Victor was death.

But the draw, the invisible pull of the opposites was pressing on Victor's back. The hand of Destiny was guiding him towards Yuuri: to his doom or glory, he didn't know.

Yet he was ready to find out, even at the highest price.

***

In a whirlwind of sand the Flower of the South arrived two days later. The inner courtyard covered in greenery with each step he took: vines climbing up the stone walls, grass spilling from the soles of his bare feet, and flowers, beautiful and aromatic, budding on the tips of his fingers and falling down only to multiply and turn the area into a glowing meadow of colour and life.

From the window up in the Northern Tower they watched as the vines climbed higher and higher, until one peeked over the ledge of where they stood and, tilting towards Chris, it sprouted a flower in greeting. A single flower, white and pearly, pale in the light of the day. It blossomed slow, as if it was fighting against the sun sitting high up in the sky, a seemingly futile fight, but so easily won now.

The moon flower spread out its petals, charming and soft.

Victor heard Chris scoff next to him as if he wanted to say "Show off," but was holding back. A smile was hiding in his eyes as he reached out protectively to shelter the plant in his hands and breathe the night into its small veins.

"He loves it," Victor said to the boy still standing on the steps of the Temple, a helpful wind carrying his words down so that he could hear them.

"Hey, don't tell him that," Chris protested. "He'll get ideas–"

But when flowers one after another started popping up on the vine, faster and faster, betraying Master South's excitement, and making Victor laugh, Chris couldn't resist joining in.

Lord Life was here, and he brought the spring with him.

***

The Conclave of the Four was always an incredibly boring thing. Victor sat in his high-backed chair, frozen, ice-cold, comforting, as a violent tornado of winds cloaked his body to ward off the insufferable heat radiating from the Rising Sun to his left. With one ear he listened to the proceedings, but never took his participation in them seriously – he was the Northern Wind, capricious and free, too wild to tame and bind in one place for long... unless something piqued his interest enough to stay.

And this time, it did. Because this time, right behind Mother East, hidden in the brightness coming off of her gold-bathed silhouette was the person Victor's mind was occupied by constantly.

Yuuri, gaze lowered diligently, stood in perfect obedience slightly to the right of the smoking chair of charcoal. He looked stunning, dark where his mistress was light, but no less intimidating – his eyes burned in silence, restless pools of magma ready to break through the crust of the earth and consume everything in their path.

Victor had found himself watching him, more than he was following the conversation, and only when Mila whispered in his ear, did he realize he was being asked a question. He blinked, snowflakes whirling before his eyes to sharpen his vision.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," he smiled. "What was it again?"

Master South who was sitting opposite of him sneaked a glance over at Yuuri and then back at him, his smile sharpening without a single word. It was Chris who answered him, propping his chin on his hand and leaning his weight fully on the armrest of his shadow-padded chair:

"Phichit asked about your prima," he explained. "I know you've brought him with you, but we'd like to see him, too."

"Ah," Victor smiled again. "Of course. He's the one playing outside right now, so please forgive his manners – he hates being called away when he's having fun."

As if to give credit to his words, a thunder slashed through the sky amongst the gray, heavy with rain clouds. Victor called out to Yuri and it took no less than a second for the door to the chamber to fly off its hinges as a powerful wind tore through it, violent and unrelenting.

"What do you want," it barked, circling around Victor's chair impatiently. "I'm busy at the moment."

"Come join us," Victor replied, careless of the tantrum Yuri would no doubt throw. "Everyone wants to meet my successor."

At the words the wind hushed down and the rain bombarding the dome above their heads lessened its attack to a light drizzle. Taking on his corporeal form, Yuri appeared at Victor's side: arms crossed, glaring, scowl firmly set on his face. To the rest he must have looked unfriendly, but Victor could see the pleased glint in the wild eyes, and he smiled.

"My principal apprentice," Victor swept a hand towards him. "Yuri, the Spring Strom."

Chris whistled, eyeing Yuri carefully as if he was an easily angered beast. Phichit cocked his head to the side, his face unreadable. But the thing that caught Victor's attention was neither of them.

It was Yuuri.

He twitched at the similarity of the name, head shooting up, eyes wide and unguarded. Victor felt again like he was being drawn in, a calling too powerful to resist, too sweet to deny. The surprise that shone golden turned to yearning in a flash and then darkened into something sombre, that shadowed over Yuuri's eyes before he dropped his gaze to the ground again.

Victor wanted to speak to him, tell him... what, he wondered himself, but the urge to act was warm set in his bones.

"What a coincidence," Mother East broke his musings, voice amused. "My prima's name is also Yuuri."

Coincidence, Victor thought as Yuuri stepped forward from behind the tail of the Rising Sun and took a graceful bow, a perfect picture of manners and respect unlike the unruly wind standing next to Victor. The gentle hand of Destiny caressed Victor's nape, sending an electric shock down his spine, while he couldn't tear his eyes away from the crown of dark hair framing Yuuri's glowing face.

None of them believed in coincidence.

***

"Yuuri," Victor greeted him, feeling the full blast of his proximity inch into the cracks of his face, melting down the ice that held him together.

It was nothing. It was worth it.

Yuuri smiled at him, a somewhat fondly exasperated quirk of lips, just as he dipped down in a quick bow.

"Northern Wind," he greeted back with his head low. "You should not be this close, you'll melt again."

"Ah, a few diamonds are worth being in your presence," Victor replied with a crisp laugh, taking Yuuri's hand – the one he kept pressed to his heart – and brushing his lips on the warm knuckles. His skin sizzled when the heat of Yuuri's body spread into the harsh ice of Victor's, a frail trail of steam rising from where they touched. "It's lovely to see you again."

"I'm honoured you think so," Yuuri replied, a dusting of pink on his cheeks, a colour of the setting sun.

Victor drunk it in greedily. His very presence made the air sharp with cold, but a barrier of golden light kept it at bay from touching Yuuri. He glowed, from head to toe, the fractals of snow glittering around them. The hand that Victor refused to let go of was scattering shadows across his chest, glimmering, shining, burning.

"Have you ever been up north?" Victor asked, curious how bright, how beautiful, how blinding Yuuri would look across the expanse of the crystal halls of his palace.

Yuuri shook his head, hair like charcoal stroking his nape and drawing Victor's eyes to the flesh above his collar. He could see the life thrumming in the red veins, like magma circulating under the husk of a dormant volcano. And Victor craved it, even if it would bid his demise.

"Never," Yuuri replied. "I was to the south and even far off west, but never the north."

Victor hummed. "I'd like to show it to you."

The surprise on Yuuri looked breathless. It was stunning to see the light shake around him, quiver like a leaf brushed by the wind. Victor found himself surprised back, reacting to Yuuri in a way he never had to anyone before. Crystals of excitement coursed through his body and prickled across his spine in elation.

The blush that blossomed across Yuuri's face, draping over his cheeks, ears and neck, was as sweet as the first winter snow. A virgin expanse of beauty and charm, and charmed Victor was.

"I'd like that, too," Yuuri admitted quietly.

He smiled a small, tender smile, looking at their joined hands instead of Victor’s face, but it was alright. With his melting hand, Victor squeezed Yuuri's lightly, the pressure shedding off more diamonds of his skin and sending them scattering across the floor. Yuuri's thumb brushed across Victor's knuckles, a swipe of hot delight, right before he pulled back his hand and stepped away.

"Maybe one day," he added, a flash of yearning crossing his face so fast Victor almost missed it.

But he didn’t. And his heart swell with hope.

***

"You'll get burned," Yuri told him, tone none too gentle.

"You'll take my place then, what are you complaining about?" Victor replied, not bothered in the least.

"That's not– I don't–" Yuri stopped himself and clicked his tongue. "I want to beat you for it, not get it just because you were stupid enough to get scorched by that flame guy, who by the way has no business having my name."

Victor chuckled, which somehow made Yuri even more irritated. Wind kicked around his ankles, but he didn't mind it much. It was far too amusing.

"Destiny brought us together," he told Yuri, whose face turned into a picture of disgust. "You can't fight against it. What's meant to be, will be. It's as simple as that."

"I abhor destiny, then," Yuri replied to which Victor only smiled.

"Your time will come, too."

Yuri made a noise of disagreement, and Victor let it slide.

"Thanks for caring about me, though," Victor said instead, waiting for the–

"I don't!" Yuri yelled at him, voice rough with thunder. "Go and get turned into a puddle of gross for all I care! We'll see who's gonna come out on top then!"

Yuri stormed out, shifting into a violent gust and flinging the window open. He disappeared into the sky, drawing clouds to his body, tight, tight, tighter, until the whole expanse of blue was covered in greys and droplets of rain started falling... almost like tears.

***

From the stone steps Victor could see Yuuri's curious eyes watching his wolves play in the snow Victor's presence shaved off of the clouds. There was a tilt to Yuuri's head, slight and wondrous, awe in his expression of parted lips and wide, shining eyes. He looked stunning, meltingly beautiful, and Victor glided down to stand next to him without much thought, led by the hand of Destiny like a child in the darkness.

"Do you want to pet one?" he asked with a small smile, blinking when Yuuri's blinding smile was directed at him.

"Can I?"

Victor only offered up his hand. Yuuri looked hesitant for just a moment, before he put his gently on Victor's palm, the hiss of their skin meeting loud in the still air between them. Victor smiled encouragingly and pulled him along.

"Makkachin!" he called and the biggest of the wolves jumped up from where he was half buried under a heap of snow.

He bounced over, stopping only to shake off the remnants of the snow clinging to his rich, brown fur. Easily the size of a small elephant, Makkachin sat on his hind legs, head only slightly above theirs. Victor sunk his free hand into the fur on Makka's neck, fingers dipping into the fine hairs, so soft and warm, he just knew Yuuri would love it – he couldn't help a grin from stretching over his face.

"It won't bite?" Yuuri asked, eyeing Makkachin carefully and Victor wanted to be offended, but... it was too cute.

"Makkachin is a he," Victor explained. "And he only bites if you want him to," he added with a wink that make Yuuri's cheeks flush, the air around them warming in tune with his embarrassment.

"I'd rather not. Thank you for the offer, though," Yuuri said directly to Makkachin, who opened his terrifying jaws to pant: teeth glinting, air huffing out, tongue rolled down.

Yuuri chuckled, a sound that set Victor's chest on fire with want. He pulled Yuuri closer, almost nestling him against his side. The smell of charcoal and smoke was strong, and the heat of Yuuri's body made Victor's skin melt again, crystal droplets rolling down his cheeks and neck to fall at their feet, but Victor relished in it.

There was something intoxicating about it, about playing with fire like this, yet he wasn't allowed to dwell on it longer. The warmth that engulfed him in a tight embrace eased up and with surprise, Victor looked down at Yuuri. He wasn't glowing as much, the light seemingly trapped at the centre of his chest, as if he was holding back in order not to hurt them both: Victor and Makkachin.

Fractals of snow danced around them when Victor's emotions slipped his control for just a moment. Yuuri was so sweet. Bright and violent like the burning flames, but devastatingly kind at the same time, and Victor's heart responded to it like it never had to anything else before.

He sighed, leaning his head closer and pressing a kiss to the side of Yuuri's head. Nose and lungs full of smoke, he smiled. Yuuri's eyes were wide, but he was smiling as well when Victor pulled back to look down at him and guide his hand to Makka's luxurious fur.

"Don't singe him," he warned teasingly, and Yuuri scoffed at him.

"I only singe people I don't like," Yuuri replied, carefully petting Makkachin.

"Does that mean you don't like me?" Victor asked, half-joking, half-starved for the truth.

When Yuuri turned to him with a small hum, it felt like forever before he admitted: "You're a small exception, Lord Wind."

But all Victor heard was: you're special.

***

There were four days every four years where the Conclave of the Four gathered to deal with the respective issues of their realms. In order of seniority, they dealt with matters in either swift or painfully slow way, and on day three Victor's shoulders were just too heavy to keep straight. Gathering the winds close to him to mend some of the cracks across the tissue of ice covering his body, he stepped outside the chamber for a breath of fresh air.

Sweetness of spring wasn't his favourite, but it wasn't the loathed summer heat, so he took a mouthful of it in silent acceptance. The unmistakable taste of smoke curled on his tongue and before his mind could catch up to what exactly it could mean, Victor's eyes were already searching for the familiar silhouette. And indeed, Yuuri stood among the entourage of the Rising Star, chin lowered respectfully as his Mistress relayed orders to him.

"You've got it bad," Chris stopped next to him, following his line of sight.

With Lord Night at his side, it was a little easier to see. The light dispersed as if it was chased away by incoming darkness and the heavy warmth settled into just an annoying tingle. Victor smiled at Chris, thankful and a little helpless.

"I know," he replied, because there was nothing much to say.

"I have to admit, I'm surprised," Chris continued as they watched Phichit take Yuuri by the arm. They were both smiling and talking about something animatedly, a vivid picture of light and beauty. "You didn't seem to give him much thought before."

"Before?" Victor asked, eyebrows drawn in confusion. "Isn't this his first time here?"

Chris' lips quirked suddenly. "Ah, you don't remember."

"We've met before?"

He was trying to remember, but his memory was as fleeing as a wind and just as full of holes. He couldn't imagine ever meeting Yuuri and forgetting such a bright, vibrant presence. It was inconceivable. A single glance at Chris told him, however, that it was entirely true.

"At Master South's naming ceremony all those years back," Chris supplied helpfully, taking amusement in Victor's blank stare. "You should remember that, it was quite a celebration."

Leaving people in the dark was Chris' forte, but even as the shadows wrapped around Victor, he couldn't help the breathless expectation, because at the end of it all there was a light – one that shone brighter and brighter with each step he took towards fulfilling his destiny.

***

Forehead pressed against the thousand-year-old bark of the Tree of Destiny, Victor allowed his eyes to fall shut. Stripped of all emotions, cold and blank, he opened up his mind, his heart, his soul for the Destiny and waited.

Memories, like snowflakes, started falling before his eyes.

Yuuri with hair pushed back, smiling at him in a way that made Victor's cold, cold heart beat for the first time in forever.

Dancing, there was a lot of dancing, people in a wild crowd and Yuuri – with his hands around Victor's waist, burning but not oppressive – pulling him into a dance, their bodies close. Electric energy buzzing around them, light pressing against the cold, warmth seeping into his lungs, filling his mouth, caressing his face...

Yuuri's face pressed against his neck, smoke and fire curled around them with perfect harmony and joined by the icy northern wind, so different, but irresistible together.

Hot hands running through his hair, and Yuuri's eyes close enough to see the burning flames in their depths. Searing lips and tongue that made fires sprout to life.

Breathing hard, with a weeping heart as it thawed in the crevice of his chest, Victor pulled away from the Tree.

***

"We've met before," he told Yuuri the next time he saw him.

"I think I'd remember that, but nice try," Yuuri smiled at him, and despite the nervous winds circling in his belly, Victor smiled back.

"Maybe normally you would, but we were both quite inebriated. Lord Life's wine is always the tastiest."

Yuuri blanched. It was the first time Victor had seen colour leave his expressive face, and concerned, he took his hand, squeezing the hot fingers despite the melting of his own.

"I didn't remember it myself until Far West pointed it out to me," he explained. "I cannot believe I could've forgotten meeting someone as extraordinary as you."

The colour was back on Yuuri's face, a shy, tender pink of the morning sun, which Victor soaked in for just a moment.

"When...?" Yuuri asked, and Victor hurried with a reply.

"Lord South's naming ceremony. We were all invited, naturally."

Yuuri's face scrunched up like coals shrivelling in the fire, and Victor watched him trying to remember. Finally, Yuuri shook his head, eyes dimmed apologetically.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't remember," Yuuri said, bowing his head lightly in shame.

Victor had none of it, though. He pushed Yuuri's chin up, smiling while his fingertips slid across the strong jaw.

"How about I remind you, then?" he proposed.

Taking Yuuri into his arms and leading him to the soft music one of his winds carried over, Victor pressed his cheek to the side of Yuuri's head. Yuuri's chest was pressed against his, pulsing and pulling at his heart, calling out to it like a bird does to its lover, a soul reaching to another.

Wrapped in a tender embrace of chilly wind and warm light, they danced.

***

"So," Chris stopped him on the fourth day, right before they were to begin the final offering, "any progress?"

Victor didn't need to ask what Lord Night was referring to, it seemed pretty obvious. He searched for Yuuri in the crowd of gold-clad servants to their left and when their gazes met, Yuuri smiled at him before giving him a short bow, much less proper than the first ones he'd received.

"I'd like to think so," Victor told Chris, his lips quirked. "I'd be lucky to have him, you know? He's so beautiful and kind, and warm... he's making my heart melt."

Noticing Chris' pointed look, Victor waved his hand as if to swat an annoying fly.

"Figuratively," he added. "He's melting my heart figuratively."

"Just don't forget he could melt it quite literally as well," Far West pressed, but smiled right after. "Though I doubt Yuuri of all people would do that."

Victor smiled as well. Yuuri was too kind for that.

***

Taste of ashes on his tongue, Victor yearned. Closer, closer, just a little more... If he could lean in the rest of the way, pull Yuuri towards him, cover the distance between their lips... But Yuuri was avoiding his advances, turning his head away, ducking his chin, inching out of reach just when Victor had already started hoping–

"Master Wind," he'd whisper, just like he did now. "Please."

And Victor would be forced to step back, the force of Yuuri's plea settling between them with the strength of the summer sun that spread heat deep into Victor's body, hissing angrily as it melted the fine line of tissue on his flesh.

"Why?" Victor couldn't help asking this time. "Why are you pushing me away, Yuuri?"

"We can't," Yuuri simply said.

"Why?" Victor insisted, storm curling around his mouth while Yuuri kept his eyes lowered. "Do you not want this?"

The light on Yuuri's face twitched as if he flinched, a shadow play of emotion too fast for Victor to decipher.

"We can't," Yuuri repeated again, quieter. "You'll get hurt."

"Is that all?" Relief was cold on him, like a freshly fallen snow brushed with chill. "Yuuri, you won't ever hurt me. I trust you."

For the first time he could see the searing lips pull into a frown when Yuuri looked up at him, a burning determination in his eyes. "How do you know that?"

Victor simply smiled. "You're far too kind for that. You wouldn't hurt a fly."

The silence was heavy and long between them, Yuuri just continued looking at him while Victor smiled. Finally, Yuuri's mouth parted, smoke escaping from the corners as he sighed.

"You're not seeing the real me," Yuuri said, making Victor frown in turn.

"But I am," he replied. "I'm looking at you now, no?"

The dim, snarky smile on Yuuri's face was a first. "Then maybe you should look at yourself."

Startled, Victor looked down at his chest, hands, legs, the pool of melted diamonds at his feet. He didn't understand. What was it that Yuuri wanted him to see?

The confusion must have been visible on his face, because Yuuri lifted a hand and pressed it to his chest. Like crystal tears, melted ice fell to the ground, filling the silence with the soft pitter-patter against the stone tiles.

Yuuri's smile was sad, a lonely sun dipping behind the horizon at twilight.

"You're melting," he told Victor, retracting his hand. "Even more so when we're this close. I know it's because of me, and I know that you're pushing yourself. I don't want that."

I don't want to hurt you, his eyes pleaded with him right before Yuuri stepped back.

The distance made the winds curl around Victor more, protective and filling the chunks of melted ice with new shields to protect him from the heat radiating off of Yuuri. There was a sad smile on his lips, a painful yearning in his eyes, a guilt in the slump of his shoulders, and when he spoke, resignation was heavy in his voice like the oppressive heat of summer.

"Let's end it at this, Lord North," he said.

And Victor watched him go, for the first time unable to speak through his frozen shut lips.

***

Yuri, the Spring Storm, raged around him, but the angry rain and winds didn't bother Victor as he stood by the Tree, looking up into its crown in contemplation. The water froze as soon as it hit his skin, covering his face with blisters of ice: uneven, imperfect, blemished. He didn't care.

Why did Destiny bring them together? Why make them suffer? If it wasn't possible, if there was no chance for them, why... Was it just a joke? Were they just a passing amusement to the hands that guided the universe?

Victor let his own hand rest on the old bark, the rough wood scratchy under his palm.

And nothing happened.

The Tree remained silent, his destiny a mystery he was left to solve all on his own.

"Just go talk to him," a voice barked from behind him, startling him out of his musings. Yuri materialized behind him, a deep scowl on his face. "Watching you mope is so damn annoying."

"He doesn't want to talk to me, though," Victor replied, lips quirking in a sad, lonely smile.

"Who cares?" The sky rumbled to the grit in Yuri's voice. "Didn't you say Destiny brought you together? What happened to that, huh?"

There was nothing Victor could say. Yuri snorted.

"Suit yourself," he said, feet already wisping away into the centre of the storm. "But don't dare complain to me later when you do nothing but stand here like an idiot and look at a goddamn tree instead of trying to talk to your destined other half."

Disgust on his face, Yuri disappeared, leaving Victor alone again.

The wild winds tugged on the branches of the Tree, gray skies cried rain and wet the world and Victor... Victor stepped back, new determination chilling his spine into the finest crafted ice – strong, unshakable, unbendable.

***

His hand was melting, but he refused to let go. Yuuri's fingers were curled around his, hesitant, as if he wanted to pull back, but at the same time wanted to cling on, and Victor didn't give him a chance to decide.

"I want you," he was saying. "All of you."

Yuuri's mouth was parted, the fire within burning strong and Victor felt like his own throat was affected by the flames. Bright, wide eyes looked at him with a mixture of fear and pleading, surprised and scared, begging him to stop.

"I want you even if it means this," Victor squeezed Yuuri's hand with his own melting one, shedding more flesh. "I don't mind–"

"But I do!" Yuuri pulled his hand away forcefully, and Victor let him, for the first time seeing the angry glimmer of light around Yuuri.

It was bright, blinding, and strong – a heat burst around them. Victor's winds whined, clinging closer to him. Yuuri's eyebrows were drawn, his mouth firmly set and Victor caught the slight tick of his jaw when he swallowed before continuing.

"Did you even stop to think about that?" Yuuri hissed, the smoke escaping through his parted lips turning his face darker. "I don't want to hurt you, but if that's the only way to make you see..."

Hands, hot, sizzling, bright red from heat, were pressed to the sides of his face and Victor's eyes widened. The heat choked his breath, filled his nose and wet his eyes enough for tears to steam down his cheeks and blur his vision. His whole face was melting, the crown of ice on his temples slipping down to the floor. It crushed into a million pieces, a stark reminder that just like it, it could be Victor's turn next.

Yuuri's face was close. Eyes like magma pools looked deep into his own and Victor could see the sadness hiding deep inside them, sadness that mirrored his own. With a shaky smile, he reached for Yuuri's wrists. He locked his fingers around them, gently, and let his hands rest there, melting but steady.

"You won't hurt me, Yuuri," he said softly. "Nothing you do can ever hurt me."

Yuuri laughed, a high, nearly hysterical laughter. "Your face is burning."

It was true. Victor could feel his cheeks sink lower, exposing skin, flesh, bones...

"And it doesn't hurt," he lied. "Even if you melt all of my ice, even if you melt my very heart," He took one of Yuuri's hands and pressed it, palm up, right to where his heart was hidden beneath the flesh of ice on his chest, "I'll never stop wanting your touch."

Yuuri's face contorted, and he bowed his head, escaping Victor's eyes, his smile, his soft acceptance. The wrists that Victor was still holding trembled slightly and then they fell limply in Victor's hold. Fresh frost covered Yuuri's skin, slick and beautiful, and Victor stroked his thumbs across it soothingly before it melted away from the heat boiling in Yuuri's veins.

"Destiny brought us together," Victor said, repeating what Yuri had told him, what the Tree wanted him to do, what he himself wanted to believe. "And I'm glad it did."

Letting go of one of Yuuri's hands, he lifted Yuuri's chin with tender fingers. His eyes were glowing red with unshed tears, fiery and beautiful, like gemstones made of the setting sun. And within them, deep beneath the veil of fear and guilt was yearning, so intense, so breathtaking, craving and pleading for Victor despite the danger to them both, despite the pain, the hesitation, despite everything.

"I want to be close to you," Victor said, fingers brushing Yuuri's jaw and sliding up to cup his cheek in his cold, frozen hand that dripped diamonds at the touch of Yuuri's skin. "Please, Yuuri, let me?"

Yuuri's shoulders shook and Victor waited, impatiently, with held up breath, until finally Yuuri bit down on his bottom lip. Tears like lava, hot and bright, slid down his cheeks when he nodded his head, leaning into Victor's hand with no more resistance.

Victor's heart, the frozen stone in his chest, the thing he never believed could've been able to do it anymore – it gave a sharp thump against his ribs. Before he knew it, he was cradling Yuuri close, breathing in the smoke of his hair, the sharp heat of his skin, turning the floor into a field of diamonds and melting, melting, melting into the embrace of Yuuri's arms around his shoulders, his mind made up and finally at peace.

***

"Northern Wind."

"Lord Wind."

"Master North."

He walked through the murmured greetings without acknowledging anyone. Time was of the essence. Diamonds at his feet, snow hurtling around him in a protective vortex, he was far from melting, but the cracks of his face were already leaking as soon as he set foot into the eastern wing of the Temple. His steps were loud, stone crunching under his feet like ice.

Mother East was kneeling at the golden altar, giving thanks to the Sun on the final day of the Conclave. Even with her back turned to him, the pressure of her presence was too much for his eyes. Victor squinted, holding his breath, as his whole body burned. With the mantle of wind wrapped around him tightly, he stopped as close as he dared.

"Rising Sun," he called her attention, feeling the air shift as her focus bore on him in full. If he was still breathing, his lungs would've filled with smoke, choked him. He tucked the winds closer to his body, breathing shallowly through his mouth. "I've got a deal for you."

"A deal?" He voice made his ears pop.

"Your principal apprentice," Victor said, ignoring the ringing in his ears and relying on the comforting whoosh of the winds to carry their words. "I'm stealing him away."

"For how long?" she asked.

Victor's lips curved into a smile. "For however long he'll have me."

"And in return?" her voice was clipped.

"The thing you wanted most," Victor reached into his robe and pulled a vial of small frost-covered pearls.

"Ah, your tears, how lovely," she commented, a sharp amusement in the glow of the light around them. "It's not enough."

"It's all you get," Victor lifted his chin. "Take it or leave it, but he's going with me."

The pressure of the Rising Sun was stifling and if Victor was anyone else he would've crumbled. The Northern Wind, his own, rose behind his back like a sleeping dragon, stretching its wings and breathing down on the heat that batted against him with fierce passion. The forces clashed and pulled back, curling at their master's feet, ready to pounce again if needed.

"He'll come back to me," Mother East finally said, turning her attention back to the ritual, a clear dismissal and an unvoiced agreement.

Victor's lips quirked. He threw the vial into the hands of one of the attendants with no care if he caught it or not.

He got what he came for.

***

She wasn't entirely pleased. He wasn't either. Neither of them liked to share, after all.

But just a glimpse of Yuuri waiting for him by the Tree, just like they agreed, just like that first time they met, was enough to make him forget the bitter taste. Light drawn to his silhouette, Yuuri shone from afar: bright and beautiful, calling out to Victor without even knowing it.

The ring woven out of the heart of the fifth Master North was icy in Victor's fingers. He twirled it around, gathering courage – him! courage! – which was ridiculous, but true, and Victor loved the feeling of having to prove himself, Lord of the North, to a mere principal apprentice. A mere principal apprentice who commanded his heart with the tips of his light-blessed fingers…

The closer he came, the more he felt the pressing warmth on his skin, the heat that melted off his ice and made his frozen blood boil. He put a hand on Yuuri's hip, pressing himself to his back, close enough to get a mouthful of the smoke. It choked him for a brief moment, or maybe it was fear, but when Victor's lips pressed to the hot skin below Yuuri's ear it was hard not to shake.

"You said 'one day'," Victor said without a greeting.

Yuuri stiffened in his arms, but relaxed at his familiar voice. Victor brought out the ring to show him.

It was the colour of frostbitten flesh – a little blue, a little purple, covered with a thick layer of crystal ice. There was no other ring like it, it was unique: a single frozen band that would never melt, never disappear, never bend under the heat of even the strongest Rising Sun.

It was perfect and Yuuri's fingers slid over Victor’s hand to take it reverently.

"Today," Victor said as Yuuri turned in his arms, melting the layers of ice on Victor's neck where his breath touched him.

And then he amended himself, because he was only a beggar who needed Yuuri’s answer for as long as he wanted him. For their deal to stand, he needed Yuuri’s explicit permission, and suddenly nervous – for the first time in centuries – Victor was cold.

"Can it be today?" he pleaded.

Yuuri looked down at the ring in his fingers and then up at him, searching, confused, but wanting.

"What is it you're asking of me, Lord Wind?"

"Victor," he replied. "Call me Victor."

The "Yes," was seared into his lips moments later, a brand of Yuuri’s on his skin, sealing them together.

***

"Victor!"

Yuuri's voice echoed through the frost-covered chamber over the howling of the tornado curling up from the Wind Temple. The crystal walls lit up with thousands of lights as he walked through, the glow of his presence sinking into the icicles and reflecting in an endless array of rays throughout the room. Yuuri’s feet tapped over to the open door leading out onto a balcony.

"There you are," he said with a small huff. "Didn't we agree to meet and watch the sunrise together?"

Victor smiled down at him, the harsh warmth across his face feeling like a tender caress now that he was back north. He took Yuuri's hand, only a fizzle of steam rising from his fingers. He pressed a kiss to the knuckles and then the ring that sat atop one of the fingers, unmelting and as solid as the day he gave it to Yuuri decades ago.

He smiled again, leaning in to press a chilly kiss to the corner of Yuuri's mouth.

"Let's watch it from here," he said, pointing with his chin out east.

The sky around the faraway glaciers was greying and soon the sun would peek from behind them to drown the world with light. Standing at his side, Yuuri pressed their shoulders together. His warmth seeped into Victor, slow and careful, mindful of his melting, and Victor in turn pulled the winds closer around them, locking them in a cold whirl of crisp air.

Together, they watched the new day rise.

THE END

#victuuriwriters #victuri #victuuri #vikturi #viktuuri #yuri on ice #my fic #holy sheet #I can't believe I'm finally posting this #man #it's been so long I almost don't remember what's happening in this fic anymore ahahah #BUT GUYS #GUYS #LOOK AT THAT ART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#I'M STILL SCREAMING AHHHHHH

82 notes · View notes