Chapter Text
“I am what?” Victor stared at the embossed emblem at the top of the letter in his hand. He shook his head slowly, but the words on the page did not disappear or rearrange themselves into a more believable message. “That’s—impossible!”
Checking the envelope again, he saw the way it had been forwarded from one city to another, apparently just missing each of their stops along the tour.
“What’s impossible?” Yuuri reached out, and Victor passed him the letter and the envelope, while the rest of the skating troupe looked on curiously.
They were all lounging together in the common room of Victor’s hotel suite in Copenhagen, the day after their closing performance of “Victor and Friends.” JJ, Seung-Gil, Leo, and Guang-Hong had left the night before, while Emil and the Crispino twins had departed that morning. The others had opted to hang out for a day or two sightseeing, before flying out to their respective homes.
Yuuri read silently for a few seconds, then stopped, staring up at Victor.
“I know,” Victor said, seeing his lover’s expression. “It cannot be true!”
“What can’t be true?” Phichit demanded, leaning forward in his chair. “Come on, tell us all!”
At Victor’s nod, Yuuri began reading aloud, starting from the second paragraph. “‘Since the death of King Sigmund last year, there has been no known successor to the crown. Our research has indicated you may be heir apparent to the throne of Arendelle.’ “
He broke off. The room had fallen silent, everyone wide-eyed and incredulous. Then Chris chuckled.
“They’ve always called you the king of the ice, Victor!” he pointed out.
“Eto pizdets!” Victor exclaimed. “Arendelle? Where is that? I’ve never even heard of it!”
“Maybe it’s a scam?” Phichit suggested helpfully. He glanced at his former roommate. “Yuuri, do you remember all those letters Ciao Ciao used to get in Detroit, saying he’d won the Publisher’s Warehouse contest?”
“Clearinghouse,” Yuuri corrected automatically. “Or all those emails we’d get about inheriting millions from some businessman in Nigeria.”
“If only it had been true!” Phichit lamented. “Think of all the coaching fees that would have paid for.”
“Or college tuition,” Yuuri added with a grin. “But I’m guessing most of us have encountered mail scams at least once in our lives.”
The tension in the room eased slightly at his words, though Yuri was scowling. Mila, by contrast, looked as if she were about to giggle.
Just then, they heard the buzz of a keycard engaging. The door was flung open dramatically, and Georgi appeared, hand clasped in the hand of Katya, Mila’s classmate from history, and Georgi’s latest girlfriend. “You may congratulate us, all of you!” the skater announced, in ringing tones. “We are engaged!”
Pandemonium erupted. Mila squealed, and flung herself at the couple, Phichit and Chris cheered, Yuuri and even Otabek smiled, and Yuri’s habitual scowl lost a little of its ferocity. Victor grinned at his rinkmate, happiness combining with relief. They’d all liked Katya, ever since Mila had introduced her to Georgi six months earlier, and the older Russian had become absolutely smitten. She was calm and kind, and her warm, open affection for Georgi was making the skater almost stable.
“This calls for a celebration,” Victor announced. “Champagne, certainly! We can all drink to the bride and groom!”
“And to the coronation!” Chris laughed. “To King Victor of Arendelle!”
“Arendelle?” Katya asked, over Victor’s yelp of protest. “What about it?”
“It’s some kind of joke!” Victor insisted, before he processed what she had just said. “Wait—you’ve heard of this place?”
“My grandmother was born there,” she replied. “It’s a tiny kingdom, just north of Corona. Why, what’s this about?”
Victor explained briefly, showing her the letter. Her fingers traced the embossed seal.
“That’s the royal crest. Babushka showed me—she had pictures in some of her old books.” Her eyes met Victor’s thoughtfully. “This could be legitimate.”
“But I’m not a king!” Victor protested again. “I don’t want to be a king!” He floundered on. “I’m Russian! We don’t even believe in kings! We shot the Tsar. And his wife. And his son. And all his daughters.” His face burned as he felt all the eyes of the room on him. “What? I can remember some history!”
Desperately, he looked for the one person whose support he knew he could count on. “Yuuri? Tell me—I don’t have to be a king, this is… this is crazy!”
“You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be, Victor.” Yuuri’s voice was steady, calming, miraculously free from the panic that had been crawling up Victor’s spine. “But—”
“But?” Victor repeated nervously, not sure he liked the thoughtful expression settling over Yuuri’s face.
“We should probably go there—”
“And tell them it’s a mistake?” Victor finished hopefully.
“Or find out how they got this idea,” Yuuri added. “It probably is a mistake. And, since you don’t want to be a king, I’m sure you can… what’s the word?... oh! ‘abdicate.’ You can tell them you want to abdicate and they should get someone else to be their king.”
That sounded reasonable. But—
“We really have to go there?”
“I’ll come along and help,” Katya offered. “I still have Babushka’s old history books. And I’d love to see Arendelle—I have a few relatives there too.”
“You’re not going without me!” Georgi rumbled, hugging her close to his side.
Victor’s eyes sought his lover’s.
“Of course I’ll go with you,” Yuuri assured him at once.
“Count me in,” Chris announced. “This is an adventure!”
Behind him, Phichit was nodding in agreement. So was Mila.
Yuri snorted. “So the old man might be king of a country he’s never heard of? This I have to see.” He stabbed a finger at Otabek. “You’re coming too.”
Otabek’s straight brows rose and he glanced at Victor, who found his lips twitching into an almost-smile. Apparently satisfied, the Kazakh turned back to Yuri and gave a brief nod of acquiescence.
“You’re still a minor,” Yuuri said firmly. At the younger skater’s glare, he added, “We’ll need your grandfather’s permission to take you into a country that wasn’t on your original travel declaration.”
“We can have the tour managers do it,” Victor advised. “They’ll know which officials have to be contacted, besides your grandfather.”
“I am still coming,” Yuri insisted crossly. “Beka, we’re packing now!”
He swept out of the sitting room, pulling Otabek in his wake.
Yuuri shook his head as the door shut behind the pair, then turned back to Victor. “We should call the airport and book a flight out as soon as possible.”
“I can take care of that,” Katya volunteered. “And Arendelle’s not so far from Copenhagen…”
****
“Are you sure we should take Yurio?” Yuuri asked Victor when they were alone together in their room. “I know Otabek will watch out for him, but—“
“Of course, we’re taking Yura.” Victor patted his clean socks into their place at one corner of his suitcase. “He’d kick us from Copenhagen to Arendelle and all the way back home if we left him behind. Or do you want to imagine what he’d get up to alone in St. Petersburg?”
“So we keep him with us instead? Let’s hope we can avoid an international incident.”
“Among other things.” The Russian skater stared down into the depths of his suitcase, trying to conceal the anxiety that still lingered in the pit of his stomach.
“Vitya?” His lover’s voice was gentle. “Are you okay?”
Victor looked up with a smile that he hoped looked more convincing than it felt. “Da, my zolotse. And I like the sound of ‘Vitya’ so much more than ‘King Victor of Arendelle.’”
Yuuri smiled back, reaching out to twine their fingers together. “Then let’s hope you have the shortest reign in history!”