Yuuri wasn't entirely lying with his excuse. Whether it was merely a (somewhat) lucky coincidence or the result of his anxiety, he really did fall ill after the ball. For the next two days, he was essentially bedbound, wracked with hives, chills, and lightheadedness. On one hand, it meant that he hadn't had to face Victor just yet. But on the other, being trapped in bed meant that, in his lucid moments, he was trapped in his thoughts as well.

It wasn't as if he was surprised by Yuri's explanation. Really, it made perfect sense. Victor would want his gamble to pay off, and he must have realized that Yuuri responded well when he felt cared for. Positive reinforcement worked better than negative, so of course he'd see better results by treating Yuuri this way. And it had paid off. He'd turned the pig into a prince. Really, Yuuri should thank him for helping him get through his fear of public speaking.

And it wasn't like he'd come into this relationship expecting love. It was what he ought to do. They both benefited from this union. It was, overall, a successful one.

Except it wasn't! Yuuri had muddled through one speech. That was the whole of his "success"! At the end of the day, he was still just a pretty, convenient thing to sit by the prince's side. And, now that he thought about it, his position hadn't changed once during this whole engagement. But the way Victor had treated him had taken the sting away. He'd been cared for, his interests and strengths had been encouraged. Victor had made him believe that he had seen something in Yuuri that no one else had.

But he hadn't. Because nothing was there.

Yuuri had serious thoughts of never leaving the bed, of just wasting away altogether. But he could never do that. He had made a commitment, and he was going to see it through—even if it hurt, even if he hated it more than anything

So it was time to get up.

When he finally roused himself, he found himself surrounded by servants at all hours. (He realized that they may have been there the entire time he was sick, but he hadn't noticed them between the physical and mental hell he'd had to deal with.) It was uncomfortable, but he managed. It was all part of acclimating his role.

At first, he debated on going straight to Phichit; he had no doubt that his friend had been worried sick about him. But no. There was a tea with the local nobles at the end of the week and a dinner party with the members of the Senate next week to plan. If he was going through with this wedding—and he was—then his responsibilities needed to come before all else. So, leading his nursing entourage forward, Yuuri made his way to go speak with the Royal Plann—

"Yuuri!"

The exclamation had come the moment Yuuri had opened the ballroom door, and before he could react, he was nearly catapulted back by a weight crashing into him. Strong arms wrapped around him tightly, catching him before he fell back. It took Yuuri a solid moment to register that the assault had come from the prince. He swallowed, tentatively looking up at Victor, who immediately pulled back to meet Yuuri's eyes worriedly.

"Are you all right? Are you sure you should be up and moving around?"

"Victor, I have a tea to pl—"

"It can be cancelled! I don't want you to get any more ill, or...or anything worse."

For a moment, Yuuri wondered if Victor's borderline-panic came from remembering his parents' deaths. But, then again, he apparently hadn't cared about them. He was likely just upset at nearly losing his chance at ascension after all his hard work. Of course he'd be worried about losing his safeguard.

Yuuri swallowed hard, trying to combat the bitter taste in his mouth at the thought. His gaze darted away from Victor's face, and he set his shoulders. "No, I'm fine. Really. I promised to plan this, and I'm going to see it through."

He pulled away from Victor; the other man easily let him go. Yuuri wasn't going to meet his eyes, wasn't going to make this harder...but his will broke, and he glanced up. Victor was...confused? Disappointed? Unreadable. Yuuri couldn't bring himself to try and decipher it, instead pushing past the prince to find the Royal Planner.

At the end of the day, he wanted to be a good earl and a good Prince Consort. In both positions, he was duty-bound to serve the kingdom in any way he could. It was just as sick and awful a game as the one Victor was playing with him, but that was court life. And if that meant he had to close off his heart to survive, he had to start now before he broke beyond repair.

~

The next three weeks were hell. It was like a never-ending carousel of fittings, dinners, teas, balls, social calls, and meetings. Other nobles trickled in—his family came eventually, but with all the preparations needing to be done, he'd barely gotten a chance to even say 'Hello' to them—and taking care of entertainment and the like turned out to be his responsibility.

He'd managed to steal a moment away to assure Phichit that he was, in fact, alive, as well as to hide from the never-ending waves of well-wishers who wanted to meet the soon-to-be Prince Consort. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Phichit about the conversation with Yuri, but his friend could tell he was stressed all the same. The minutes they had were spent in idle chatter and jokes. It was the closest thing he had to relief.

On the other end of the spectrum, there was...Victor.

Yuuri wasn't sure if his body language was extraordinarily loud, or if Victor was particularly sensitive to others, but somehow he seemed to realize that Yuuri wanted space. They caught each other occasionally between meetings—he was just as trapped as Yuuri, with Yakov putting him through "How to be King Boot Camp" (Victor's words) and with several important people from neighboring kingdoms begging for his ear now that he was about to take charge of the kingdom—and, despite the bright look on the prince's face whenever he saw his fiancé, he would stop himself from getting too close.

Until he didn't.

"Yuuri."

Yuuri, on his way to hide with Phichit for a couple hours, nearly jumped out of his skin as Victor draped himself over his shoulders without warning. He turned his head to look at Victor, face as composed as it could be. Victor sighed, pressing his chin into Yuuri's shoulder.

"What kind of engagement is this? I almost never get to see my fiancé. I didn't even get time to congratulate you after your opening speech at the last dinner!" Victor looked up at him, lips forming a slight moue that almost, almost cracked the walls around Yuuri's heart.

Yuuri swallowed, quickly looking away from Victor. "It...it wasn't really that great."

"Compared to how you used to be? It was amazing!" Yuuri's heart twisted at the compliment that sounded so genuine. Victor tilted his head, cheek now pressed against Yuuri's shoulder. "Granted, your taste in décor could be better. You go too ornate—it feels unnatural." He lifted his head; Yuuri glanced at him to catch big blue eyes sparkling back at him. "I could help you plan the next one! And maybe you could help with the budget again? It's like another language to me."

Yuuri bit back a scoff. It was so obvious now: he was trying to make Yuuri feel useful by pretending to be bad at budgeting. Victor could probably balance books in his sleep. God, he'd been so stupid to think he was actually helping Victor earlier.

"I don't have time," he said quietly. "And I really need to focus on my own work, Victor."

Victor visibly deflated, and he pulled away from Yuuri. "Well...I suppose it could wait until after the wedding," he said. Yuuri tried not to notice the way his smile flickered. "The money should still be there in a week, right?"

"Mm." Yuuri's chest tightened. One week. That's all that was left. He quickly bowed his head. "I...I really have to go, Victor."

Victor's brow creased, but he hummed for him to go. Yuuri glanced up at him once more, then quickly turned before he could register how sad Victor looked. It's just a game, Yuuri reminded himself. This was all a game. And Yuuri would lose the moment he let his guard down.

~

The day came.

By all means, it was a perfect day for a winter wedding. The sun was out, pale light making the icicles and snow on the palace glitter. The halls were abuzz with anticipation, with both the staff and the guests chattering eagerly about the wedding.

For Yuuri, the past three weeks of trying to make himself numb had paid off in some respect. He wasn't panicking as he gave out final instructions (carefully memorized from the Royal Planner's notes) to the staff. And, as he was up on the tailor's block getting some last minute tucks and stitches on his dignified, dove-gray suit, he was surprised at the sharp yet serene face that met him from the mirror. Really, if Yuuri didn't know himself, he'd think that the reflection belonged to a man ready to become Prince Consort.

It wasn't true, obviously. He was by no means ready, and he was still upset over...well, everything. But for now, he had to keep himself numb to get through the day. Everything else would be fine. He had his vows memorized, he knew where he needed to be at every point of the ceremony, even the dances at the reception were rehearsed—with instructors, but still. Since Victor was so focused on making Yuuri look like a competent noble, he wouldn't stop with a waltz.

Yuuri was prepared and practiced. So the goal of today was just to survive.

As the seamstress finished, she and her assistant cooed over how handsome he was and how lucky the prince was, etc. etc. Of course they would say things like that, though—you don't tell a groom that he's a stupid hick on his wedding day, even if everyone already kn—

No. Focus.

Today was about survival. He could not let his brain get the better of him today. He had to keep it together if he wanted to win the game. What he would actually win from being essentially a trophy husband, he wasn't really sure. But he certainly wouldn't get whatever prize came from throwing away your life aspirations if he freaked out at the altar. But maybe he'd lost when he'd freaked out at the ball. Oh, god, of course he had; he'd no doubt made a complete embarrassment of himself and Victor and the kingdom and Sagashima and the Katsuki name and maybe he really should just reconsider going back to his bed and never ever ever getting ou—

"Yuuri?"

He sucked in a breath as he was brought back to reality, and he looked down at Phichit, who had slipped in mid-freak out. Phichit watched him for a moment, then gave him a small smile.

"It's just about time." He grinned. "Though if you want a more dramatic entrance, we can wait here for a while."

Yuuri swallowed as he shook his head, turning back to look at the mirror. The bright red and gold of Phichit's court clothes only accentuated how dour and grim he looked in his own gray suit. Fitting, he thought, letting out a sigh. He caught Phichit's reflection glancing up at him with a worried frown.

"You know..."

"Don't." Yuuri grimaced and shut his eyes. "There's no time to say no. I'm going through with this." He opened his eyes to regain his composure, though that was shot as he caught a rare scowl on his friend's face.

"You know, I've stayed pretty quiet about this for the month," Phichit said after a moment, dark eyes fixed hard on Yuuri. "It really seemed like you and Victor were warming to each other. You seemed happy."

Yuuri swallowed. He had been.

"But now you definitely aren't. And if you're really this miserable, I can't let you do this in good conscience. You deserve to be happy, Yuuri." He crossed his arms. "So tell me what happened at the ball?"

"I-I don't—"

"Yuuri, even if I wasn't your best friend—which I know I am—you're like an open book when something's bothering you. So what happened?" Phichit leaned closer. "Do we need to organize a getaway? We'll fake your death and I'll make you a citizen of Yím Pàen Din."

Yuuri looked down at Phichit, too torn to even laugh at the joke. On one hand, finally telling someone what had been bothering him might help. Phichit would understand, and maybe he really would try to smuggle him out before the wedding. But, as nice as that sounded, he couldn't do that. He was committed to this, and if he lost his nerve and freaked out, that would just be more stress and failure on his part. Plus—as much as Yuuri hated remembering this—Phichit was, at the end of the day, an influential noble from a different kingdom. An ally, yes, but if word ever got out to any other country that the new Prince Consort was hardly more than a pet project, then how would the kingdom be perceived?

This was just one more part of the game.

"I'm terrified." That part wasn't a lie. He was absolutely terrified of what would happen once he and Victor were wed. The next part, though, that was a lie. "It...I didn't really know what I was getting into. It didn't...it feels real now. And I'm not sure how I feel about everything and I don't know if I'm really fit to have this role and I mean, I hardly know Victor and..."

He wasn't sure if he pulled off the lie or if Phichit accepted that Yuuri wouldn't tell him the truth. Regardless, Phichit set a hand on Yuuri's back, giving it the same friendly pats he'd given when Yuuri's anxiety had gotten the best of him in Bellezza.

"It'll be fine," he assured. "I know you'll be a great ruler. Victor sees that, too, I'm sure. And he adores you." Phichit looked up at him with a warm smile. "You made the right choice accepting this, Yuuri. You're gonna do great things for the kingdom."

A bitter taste filled Yuuri's mouth. Everything Phichit said was wrong. He was a pawn. He was nothing. But what could be done? For now, he made due with swallowing down his disappointment and pushing back a few strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. After a moment, he jumped down from the tailor's block and set his shoulders best he could.

"It's time," he said, surprising himself with how confident he sounded before he led the way out.

~

For one bright and shining moment, it had seemed like the wedding would go well. Yuuri followed all the cues perfectly: he held himself regally as the doors to the grand ballroom opened, he practically glided down the aisle—he gave subtle, obligatory smiles to his family and Phichit as he walked, though he abruptly turned his head as he caught sight of Yuri's disinterested scowl—and he'd locked his eyes on Victor for the last few steps. He kept his face composed even as his chest ached at how bright and warm the blue eyes were; the look on Victor's face nearly fooled him into believing that there was something more than tactical planning behind this wedding.

"You look...incredible," Victor breathed as Yuuri reached the altar, because that's what grooms were supposed to say.

Yuuri demurely looked away, as expected. "So do you," he breathed before looking back up at Victor. It wasn't a lie—Victor was always breath-taking. But the deep, solid black of his suit made him look pale and severe. That wasn't like Victor at all.

Yuuri swallowed hard at the thought, face pinching before he could stop it. Well, it wasn't like the Victor he thought he had known. Maybe it suited the real Victor quite well.

Oblivious—or, perhaps, in response—to Yuuri's discomfort, Victor took his hands and squeezed them as the officiant began the ceremony.

"Lords, Ladies, and loved ones, it is with great joy that we celebrate the most felicitous of unions."

Felicitous. Well, that was one way to look at the prince's failed attempt at creating a Prince Consort from nothing. No, no. He had to keep those thoughts at bay. He would get through this ceremony. Just a few more minutes of this. He set his mouth in a hard line as he regained his focus on what the officiant was saying.

"And, of course as heads of our kingdom, your marriage should be a reflection of the same grace and strength you will no doubt share with your people. Truly, this union is a great victory, both for love and for our future..."

HA!

A victory? This was a victory? Giving up his life just to fuck up on a nationwide scale? Giving up everything he wanted just to be a...a social experiment for a prince who barely even knew him? No, no, this was a loss. A loss for Victor, a loss for the kingdom, and a devastating loss for Yuuri.

He stiffened as he felt his heart begin to pound. No. No no no, not here, not now. He looked up with wide eyes at Victor. The prince's expression was unreadable; it looked like he whispered his name, but his voice—as well as the officiant's—was drowned out by a familiar high-pitched noise screaming in Yuuri's ears. He tried to snap himself out of it, but this...the feeling was different. It wasn't panic.

It was...anger.

He wanted to shout about what a sham this was. How Victor had picked the worst possible choice of a spouse, and how he'd done that on purpose. He wanted to scream to the entire kingdom that he'd never wanted this, but that there was no choice because he was NOTHING.

Instead, he tugged his hands away sharply from Victor's.

"Yuuri?"

This time Victor's voice broke through the noise, sharp and concerned. Because, despite how much he hated it, Yuuri's traitorous heart still felt the same way it had before the ball. And that just made all of this even worse.

He quickly shook his head and stepped back, the noise in his head drowning out the gasp from the crowd. "I...I can't," he managed to say, voice a shaky whisper. Without so much as looking at Victor, he turned and made his way out of the ballroom as quickly as he could, pushing past the few people who tried to stop him.

He would be mortified when he calmed down, he knew. But for now? Let them gape. Let them talk.

Let them know that Earl Katsuki Yuuri of Hasetsu had the gall to leave Prince Victor Nikiforov at the altar.

~

Again, if Yuuri really hadn't wanted to be found, he wouldn't have gone to the ice.

But he needed it. He needed to burn off this anger, and he desperately needed something familiar right now. So he pushed himself back and forth across the ice, his movements sharp and savage with hard spins and quick skids that sent showers of ice shards in his wake.

Still embolded from the anger coursing through him, he ignored the first "Yuuri!". He ignored the second, too. It wasn't until Victor actually stepped out onto the river—and he heard a bark and whine of protest from the bank—that he finally acknowledged the prince. No words, just a sharp look before he twisted into another hard turn.

"What happened? Did you get stressed?" Victor's voice carried above the scrape of Yuuri's skates, earning another glance up. As always, Victor was unreadable. He was upset, yes, but there was no way of telling whether it was hurt or frustration. "Did you not want this?"

In response, Yuuri kicked up another spray of ice before he pushed forward. He caught a glimpse of Victor pushing his hands through his hair before he launched himself off the ice. One turn, the start of a second...He crashed back down, one hand slamming onto the ice to keep himself from completely falling, and immediately pushed himself into another spin.

"Yuuri, look at me!" Finally, Victor's eternal composure broke, frustration coloring his words. "If you didn't want to marry me, you could have just said 'no'!"

"'You could have said no, Yuuri. You could just say no to this,'" Yuuri mocked. "Everyone seems to think it's that simple, but it's not!" He skidded to a sharp halt, breathing hard and shoulders tense as he kept his back to Victor. "I don't have the luxury of saying 'no'. Because if I did, then I'd be the one who thought he was too good for the prince. Then I'm the one who ruined every chance of Sagashima being more than a tiny island hardly anyone even knows exists!"

He stayed very still as he heard Victor's shoes slip against the ice as he attempted to walk toward him. "That wouldn't happen, Yuuri! This wasn't a...a trap for you. Look, you...this should be a happy day. And..." Yuuri didn't miss Victor's sharp breath in. "And you should be free to make whatever choice you want."

"God, you don't get it!" Yuuri snapped as he whirled around to face Victor. "What I want doesn't matter. No matter what you say, Victor, we are not equals. And we will never, EVER be equals!" A desperate sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob bubbled from his throat. "I'll never be the ruler you are. I'll never be the leader I wanted to be. My life is entirely governed by your choices." He let out a shuddering breath as he let his head fall back, the movement sending him drifting backwards. "And you know that. Beneath this whole act of being nice to me, you know that I had no choice but to say yes."

Victor stayed uncomfortably silent, and Yuuri pressed his hands to his eye. "I know I'm a fun project for you. I know the deadline for you to get the crown is tomorrow. I've figured out this whole game you're playing and I hate it." He pulled his hands away, eyes wet as he met Victor's gaze. He let out another half-laugh, half-sob as he shrugged, the movement once again pushing him away from the other man. "But I have to keep playing it, too. So I'll go back. I'll be your toy and accessory and put on wonderful parties and social events even though I can't stand them, and I'll hate every bit of it. But what can I do? It's my d—"

He was cut off by a loud crack beneath him. His eyes went wide, and he just barely caught sight of Victor lunging toward him before the ice gave way.

He gasped as he fell through, sucking in a lungful of ice-cold water, and his heart raced as he fought against coughing. Already he was being pulled and flipped by the powerful water of the river below. Which way was up? Would he even be able to get through the ice? His lungs betrayed him, chest spasming as he coughed and inhaled more water. He could feel darkness pulling at him, wrapping around his middle and edging into his mind. After a few more feeble struggles, he let out the little air left in his lungs and let himself go.