Chapter Text
Katsukis arrive with the caravan in the middle of the night. The journey from Japan is long and taxing but worth it. After all, nowhere in the world you can find the precious substance except for Egypt. It’s in the possession of the Sheikh, the leader of the Arabian Peninsula. Toshiya is sent there by the Japanese government to acquire it and thinks it’s the best opportunity to take the whole family with him and it will give a valuable experience to his children and a fun exchange of air to his wife.
Yuuri is at first reluctant but cannot deny he is excited that he is going to see a foreign country, and the mental preparation for the travel is less stressful thanks to that. Mari is not excited at all; if she could she would stay back at their family house and mind the concoctions of her parents. Unfortunately for her, Minako, the fellow scientist, took over and is keeping a watchful eye on the experiments in progress.
They haven't expected the harsh shifts in the temperature. The life in Japan during the insufferably humid summers didn’t prepare them at all for the dry sandy oven. Yuuri can barely stay upright on the back of the camel as they make it through the rising and sinking dunes. The chatter from Phichit, his loyal friend from Thailand, helps only little. When he finally gets used to the heat the sun sinks behind the wavering horizon and the night catches them off guard just the same.
The heat of the day has nowhere to cling to, no plants in the sight, just endless sea of sand as far as your eye can see. Any warmth quickly evaporates and almost freezing cold invites itself into the smallest fold of their clothes. Now Yuuri understands why their guides insisted they take heavier dresses and blankets with them in their traveling trunk. At first it makes his father worry that the extra camel for luggage creates additional costs, an expenditure which his assignment employers won’t like. The Katsukis are good scientists, but they have yet to deliver a good potion, which would secure their position and housing.
That’s why Toshiya insisted on traveling to Egypt and to meet the Sheikh himself, the government allowing it only because he was in a personal letter exchange with the leader. There is almost nothing known about the tribe or their leader, but they seem to be interested in a rare blue mineral native to Japan. So one leads to another and here they are, few minutes from reaching the oasis where the Sheikh currently resides and Toshiya is about to have a first audience with him.
It’s almost like a small valley, Yuuri thinks as his eyes slide over the scenery. He wishes he could see it during the day because the tall palms and greenery are bathed in dark indigo colors and only the glimmer of moon is reflected on the surface of the small lake. That and a few torches on the perimeter of the camp, scattered in a strategic manner. It reminds him of the tale of One thousand and one nights; it looks almost as he had imagined reading the book. Too bad the audience scheduled for tonight isn't supposed to go beyond that and he won’t see it in full light.
There is a custom here that whenever you want to negotiate with someone about an important trade or a certain matter, you have to engage in a delicate dance that almost resembles courtship, Toshiya is quick to explain to his family as he clutches the camel’s back and strains in effort not to slide off.
It’s not polite to show up and negotiate the deals right away. Instead one has to make an effort to keep things light with a friendly banter, build amicable relationship of trust and inclination. Just like you’d make a new close friend. One has to get to know one another before making serious decisions. Promises are valued and binding here; if you tied yourself to something and you’d die before taking care of it, your family was expected to take over.
Phichit jumps ahead and asks before Yuuri even opens his mouth - they are scheduled to stay here for this night only and leave early in the morning before the sun rises. How is Toshiya going to adjust to this custom?
He smiles and Yuuri can see the familiar feverish glint in his eyes. His father loves exchanges with different cultures and goes to great lengths to keep the letters that come from every corner of the world. The contacts with the scientists keeps him informed about latest inventions and he indulges in discourse on various topics ranging from geography, mineralogy to philosophy. Therefore he brings them on his little secret.
The Sheikh is not a native Egyptian; in fact his mother was of Russian origin and he even carries a foreign name. Victor. So even though he is a Sheikh, was born and has been living here his whole life, he is very open minded. Apparently they made arrangements with Toshiya ahead, Victor graciously granting him to have one audience. Of course their previous contact helped, but most importantly, the mineral is precious enough and the tribe wants it so badly; Victor was more than inclined to be accommodating.
Yuuri wonders with a hint of doubt. Victor doesn’t sound like a name of a person who would be servile towards others easily just like that. There is a strong ring to it and he knows from his father’s Latin books what the name’s origin means. Conqueror.
One of the guides, who’s also a Russian, disconnects from the small group and rushes ahead yelling as they catch the first sight of the torches. A rider on a black horse is approaching them in a mad run and suddenly there are shots fired under the starlit sky. The Katsukis instinctively bundle closer and fright catches them once again unprepared.
Before they know it the guide meets the rider half way in a crushing embrace - turns out it is a woman. She basically leaps from the horse into his embrace, abandoning the musket and they laugh, kiss and turn around in joy.
All four pairs of eyes rest on Toshiya in search for an explanation, as he is the only one who stays and sits upright in the saddle, whereas they lean close to their camel. He smiles gently and explains it is another custom. A tribe welcomes travelers after longer absence from home and celebrates the return with shots aimed into heavens.
Of course. Yes, another custom.
“So, are they like, together?” Phichit is leaning closer to Yuuri, arms wrapped around the camel’s hump and his eyes dart from the affectionate pair on the ground to Yuuri and back.
“Of all things, this is the one detail you find worth asking about? Phichit, really?” Yuuri shakes his head, clearly seeing a devious sparkle in his friend’s eyes. No heat or cold in the world would kill the need for gossip in Phichit. It’s like some inner life force which keeps his friend going. But Yuuri doesn’t mind it much anymore, because it was exactly this force and curiosity that brought them together. If not for that Phichit would have never left Thailand, his home country and the royal court, never made it to Japan and would have most definitely never become friends with Yuuri.
“What, can’t a boy dream? The whole ride is so boring and I've heard they have real beauties around here. Can’t I be curious about their customs? I sure would like to be welcomed like that. Well, maybe minus that shooting but you get the gist. How about you?”
Phichit pouts and straightens between the humps. He flaps his shawl in an eccentric manner to the side as if to underline what he is saying. Yuuri just sighs, closes his eyes for a moment, considering his answer.
“No, I wouldn’t. All I want is to have a place to lay down and be warm again. I can’t believe I would wish for heat again after today, but it’s my only desire at the moment.”
Phichit rolls his eyes in exasperation and rests his head on the top of his hands like on a windowsill. There is a dreamy look in his eyes as he stares at the couple, who has hard time untangling from each other. They address each other with first names in a familiar manner, completely oblivious and unashamed of the audience. Georgi and Mila. So, more Russians, Yuuri makes a small mental note. It seems like the desert is littered with them, at this point he would not wonder if there was an ice-rink behind the nearby dune.
The pair manages to separate more or less and they walk back towards the caravan holding hands. Mila has an excited and welcoming look on her face as she takes in the foreigners and Georgi explains she is part of the guard unit who takes care of the security of the Sheikh.
Mila takes the word: “Welcome! We have been expecting you for several hours. The Sheikh is occupied at the moment and because we have another foreign guest. We will get you settled in and bring some refreshments, da? You must be tired! Come, come!” She continues on merrily and leans into her partner. Georgi presses a kiss to her temple and tugs at the reigns of Yuuri’s camel and it follows obediently, letting out a loud groan.
“Hello! I am Phichit and I am starving!” His friend throws his hands towards the sky. This gesture is so spontaneous that everyone starts to laughing and realize how tired they all are. Phichit’s company makes anything less heavy and Yuuri cannot help but smile. The mood is relaxed and it doesn’t feel at all for a moment like they are all strangers in an unfamiliar territory. He is glad he came here.
The camels set ahead with the troupe towards the tents and they enter the camp.
They have arrived.
Yuuri and Phichit are in a turquoise tent. At least that’s what Mila is calling it. She quickly explains they will be using it for the night although it usually serves as sleeping quarters for their female staff. They are given fresh tunics smelling of soap, which are basically large and long shirts reaching the floor. And no shoes. Apparently they won’t need those because the ground is covered by colorful carpets.
After she departs a quiet woman comes inside dressed in a chador and inquires what they would like as refreshments. Phichit asks for figs and Yuuri just water, his stomach is hurting and he feels dizzy from the long ride on the camel’s back.
A little later, as Phichit savors the sweet fruit in indulgent manner, they are surprised once again. Georgi joins them and brings a bottle they are not familiar with. His mood is merry, he tells them about how he is going to get married to Mila. The couple had waited for his return from the escorting assignment. So now it finally makes sense to Yuuri why the pair was so excited.
Phichit, as adventurous he is, grabs the bottle without any hesitation and takes a generous swig. Georgi tries to warn him, but it’s too late, the Thai gulps and chokes bent to half at his waist. Yuuri is about to offer him a cup of water but Phichit stares in astonishment and declares like he doesn’t believe what he is going to say.
“I like it! What is this?”
Georgi blinks but is quick to push out his chest with pride and answers all too eagerly. He is obviously satisfied with Phichit’s instant liking of the drink.
“Vodka, the best drink in the world. It’s Russian and my grandfather made it himself.” Georgi talks and gesticulates with his hands in the air wildly. He sits down on a wooden chair and takes a couple of intricate metal chalices from the plate on the table. He nods a little and sends a questioning gaze towards Phichit and, holding the bottle close to the brim of the chalice, ready to pour at his command.
“It is as you say my good friend. Let’s praise the skills of your grandfather ; be so kind and pour me some more. Let me have it! And don’t spare me! Yuuri, do you want some too?”
Yuuri has a bad feeling about this, so he just shakes his head and says a silent “I’m good” in return. He sits down on the comfortable bed and watches the two men chatter, their talk disturbed by Phichit's occasional coughing, whose throat burns and eyes water. He shakes his head again but says nothing. He doesn’t know how long Georgi stays or the bottle lasts because his eyes close after a few minutes and he is oblivious of anything happening around him. Sleep wraps him in its merciful embrace.
It’s still deep in the night when he feels the a jab right under his shoulder blade as something pokes in his flesh.
“Yuuri.” A loud whisper carries itself in the tent. Another jab almost pierces a hole in between his ribs. “Yuuuuri.”
Yuuri barely manages to evade another assault and twists his body so he can see the person who robs him of his sleep.
“Phichit?” He whispers as well, the webs of slumber still lingering in the back of his mind.
“Yuuuuri. Wake up!” Well sure enough it is Phichit’s form towering over his bed and Yuuri wonders why they even bother whispering in the first place, because his friend is making a really bad attempt at it.
“Phichit, I am awake! What’s wrong?”
“Yuu-..oh, you are! Haha, that’s good. Because it needs help.” Giddy laughter rings from Phichit’s mouth and Yuuri is now completely awake. Instinct tells him to be receptive, the younger man's strange behavior is not a good sign.
“What? What needs help? Phichit you’re not making any sense. Tell me this instant what’s going on.” He doesn’t want to but frustration seeps into his speech, the anxiety giving it a sharper edge. Yuuri doesn’t like this at all. He sits up showing the sheets aside and rests his hand on Phichit’s shoulder as the other sits down on the bed.
“Oh. The camel! It needs your help. Yes.” His friend chuckles a little and tries hard to hold back his laughter some more. Even in the dark Yuuri can see the glowing spark in Phichit’s eyes. As if he had fever. The fruity scent hits his nose and he knows Phichit is not having a fever. He is drunk. Very drunk. Oh no.
“Phichit. What did you do?” He is sure that he is not going to like discovering what this is all about. He is not sure if he is even ready to face it. They are on an unfamiliar territory, in an alien country, and are guests. This mission is very important to his father and they already stretched their chances with getting a special benevolent treatment for the audience. They would be stuck here for a month at least if they were forced to follow the usual order of the usual protocol. Phichit is a lot to handle when he is sober and Yuuri feels the familiar sensation of dread creeping up his spine, the tingling of his ears like spider legs walking over them.
“Tsk! Yuuuuuuri. I didn’t do anything. Ah, the camel. It looked so nice and fluffy. I just wanted to pet it, but it looked so sad? Yeah. It was thirsty so I gave it some of Georgi's drink. He is so nice, did you know his hair is also very fluffy? Like Koala hair!”
Yuuri grabs Phichit’s shoulders with both hands and then a loud groan is heard from outside of the tent. The camel’s cry. It sounds like a tormented cow which ate bad cheese. Oh no.
Phichit stills in his hold and looks a little remorseful, but doesn’t avoid Yuuri’s pinning stare. He gulps and speaks with clear voice.
“I made the camel drunk.”
Oh no. No no no no….
“Phichit, I am going to murder you.” Yuuri hangs his head down in defeat and his mind is already racing, while his ears burn more with each distressed cry of the camel. They need to act fast.
Yuuri jumps from the bed and looks around the tent, eyes focusing with effort in the darkness on the unfamiliar shapes. Lots of pillows, veils hanging from the top of the tent, small furniture, and there in the corner is a trunk. He remembers Mila telling them these were women's quarters, so he runs to it with growing hope. Yes! His hands dive inside it, feeling the familiar soft fabric of the veils. Delicate embroidery adorning it on the chest area, the decorative coins cooling his fingertips and as he feels them in the dark. He tugs out a few pieces by blind choice and tosses some on Phichit, who untangles from them with frustration. He doesn’t manage to protest as Yuuri cuts him off in whisper.
“Put them on, quick! We don’t have much time. The whole camp will wake up if we don’t hurry.”
Phichit looks in astonishment at Yuuri who drops his tunic and pulls on the flowy pants and top. As he puts on the veil and pins a smaller one over his face, the Thai starts to react hesitantly, furrowing his brows in concentration. Yuuri would normally have pity on him, because focusing is harder for drunk people, but he is still mad so he deliberately decides to ignore that.
“Yuuri. You look very pretty with your belly naked like that. But why do you want us to dress like women? Do you want to dance for the camel? And isn’t there any red dress? I don’t like violet, it doesn’t go well with my eyes.”
“Phichit, shut up. We’re dressing up, it’s a disguise.”
“Disguise? Why-…”
Yuuri closes the trunk with a resolute thump and turns to Phichit locking him in place with a poignant stare. His fingers slide in the air in front of his lips cutting his friend off.
“Shh! We’re going to walk the camel so it sobers up. If someone sees and recognized us, they will think we are stealing it. But if they see two women from their tribe, they won't raise alarm.” He explains quickly with patience while he helps Phichit to dress in the process. His friend is sluggish and can barely pull off the tunic without his aid.
“Ok. Yuuri?” His voice comes muffled from under the fabric and Yuuri tugs the violet dress over his head.
“Hm?”
“You look really pretty in indigo.”
To Yuuri’s surprise Phichit manages to lead them to the camels and he has to support him only once when he stumbles, when his feet get catch in the untangled veil. Once near the hoard Phichit wobbles towards the camel which stands in the middle. Yuuri corrects himself, it’s trying to stand. It groans loudly, its cries carrying in the night air. Yuuri looks around in fright, expecting guards to come around the corner and seize them any minute.
“Phichit!” He whispers while looking around his shoulder towards the tents.
“Camel-chan!!! Did you miss me? Did you miss me? There, there!” Phichit wraps his arms around the neck of the camel and cuddles with it as if it were an overgrown hamster. He coos to the animal and forgets to whisper immediately. Yuuri cringes, rushes to them and grabs the reigns so he can untie the rope from the wooden beam, to which the camels are tied to. It’s harder than he anticipated because they stand in the shade of palms and it’s difficult to see well without glasses in darkness. Brief flashes of moonlight dance around them through the palm leaves and together with the stars above it all would appear very serene under normal circumstances. Unfortunately Yuuri doesn’t have the time to enjoy the scenery because both Phichit and the camel are growing louder and sway dangerously on their legs.
Phichit covers his mouth with one palm and stares at Yuuri in sudden distress.
“Yuuri. I think I’m going to puke.”
There! The rope finally gives in and releases its complicated knot. Yuuri pulls at the reins with one hand and rests the other on Phichit’s lower back.
“No, you won’t. You’re going to be fine. Now I need you to climb on the camel and I’ll lead us from the camp, ok? Can you do that for me?”
He caresses his friend’s shoulder blades, speaking kindly. Once he receives his nod, he helps Phichit to get into the saddle. The camel, as Yuuri notices, has much nicer reins and gear than the rest of the herd. Of course Phichit chose a special camel, it’s their leader. With the first obstacle behind them Yuuri allows himself to sigh in relief and he feels hope is on the horizon. They might make it after all. The moment the thought leaves his mind the herd starts to cry in unison as their leader calls into the night louder than before.
“Yeaaah! Woohooo!” Phichit, forgetting he felt sick seconds ago, decides to join the ruckus. Yuuri startles and stops trying to calm down the camel and has difficulty to hold the reins firmly in his grip. The noise is too much and he’s sure that now someone is definitely going to notice their whereabouts.
And sure enough, not even a second passes and before he hears yelling behind his back. He ducks in instinct and turns slowly to see his incoming doom. The distraction makes the reins slip out of his hands and the camel decides to take this as a queue to break out into a mad run, Phichit on its back and the herd following it. Its pure chaos and Yuuri can only stand in the middle and try to avoid getting hurt by the rushing camels. From the corner of his eye he notices a person walking towards them. His father is peeking from the nearby tent, which can only mean one thing. They disturbed the audience and judging from the attire of the approaching person Yuuri knows who it is.
The Sheikh himself.
The man is closing on him like a storm. Everything is moving, sound a whirlwind of animal cries, thuds and distant yelling in a foreign language. Yet nothing could shake of the Yuuri’s concentration of the inevitable encounter. With each step the sheikh takes, Yuuri notices a new detail about him, a new piece of information seeps into his mind like water into the sand. Few meters away from him the man jolts and his pace slows down until he simply stops, locking gaze with Yuuri. The other can’t move or do anything else than stare back.
The moonlight spills over the camp as the clouds move on and the two are bathed in the glow white like milk. For Yuuri it feels similar as when he opens a new precious book. He focuses with anticipation, excitement grows inside him as his fingers slide over the black leather binding and once he opens the cover, unlimited possibilities are exposed to his mind with the brightness of white paper.
All he needs to do is look and take it in. In fact, it was never easier. If the man was described in a book, it would sound like a fairy tale.
He is tall, taller than Yuuri. Seemingly never-ending white tunic and cloak wrap around his body. There is a faint glimmer in the sash he wears on his waist, maybe it is silver thread. A brief flash of gleam moves near it, reflecting moonshine on the decorative dagger. Perhaps it’s gold or maybe silver, the cold moonlight making it hard to tell. No, it is silver, Yuuri knows somehow the moment his eyes land on the stranger’s face. Beautifully cut shapes, creamy skin and gentle features convince at the first sight. He looks like an angel who descended to Maria in Annunciation. Just like in the collection of christian paintings his father had showed him. Yuuri is stunned and cannot move, not even when the Sheikh gestures behind his back, signaling to his guards to stay back.
They never break eye contact and Yuuri is like spellbound. Even in the low light Victor’s eyes shine like water in the sea on a warm summer day. Mesmerizing turquoise color with deep ultramarine shadows. He sees anger at first, then wonder and fascination in the end.
What does the sheikh see to be so caught up in trance? Yuuri is about to look around so he can find the source of his interest, but a last errant camel rushes by between them, throwing Yuuri off balance and the sheikh is sent to the ground in the cloud of sand, coughing.
It’s pure instinct when Yuuri moves towards the man on the ground. His arms grab the other’s shoulder and hand, pulling at him firmly. His palm wraps around the sheikh’s fingers with such frightening ease it’s almost unbelievable. But it is all real, because they stand there, holding hands and Yuuri can hear the man’s shallow breathing, see his pupils dilate and his lips part slightly. And lord, he is not looking anywhere else but straight down to Yuuri’s face.
The strangest thing, but Yuuri is neither afraid nor concerned. He lets the man squeeze his hand and feels him slide his other hand on Yuuri’s elbow. His eyelids lower, hiding the piercing eyes under silver eyelashes and Yuuri can almost taste the words coming from his mouth, wishing he could take them all in with his own lips.
“Венера.” A whisper like a caress is released from the stranger’s throat with a silent sigh.
Yuuri’s ears strain in effort but he can’t understand what it means. He feels his face flushing and is thankful for the veil covering everything but his eyes. Nothing saves him from the heat spilling up his spine, over his neck and pouring into his heart. It swells so quickly, it almost aches with pain.
Maybe the man can see it, as unbelievable as it sounds to Yuuri’s mind, because his face is crossed with concern and his hand is reaching towards Yuuri’s cheek. The moonlight flashes against in the rings on his fingers and it’s like a soundless warning before the magic of the moment is broken.
Then they are torn apart, the people chasing the camels rushing between them and all the closeness, the instant connection is gone. Yuuri’s mind is thrown back into reality and dread claws at his back. He looks quickly around, taking in the situation. It all happened so fast he doesn’t remember what exactly occurred after that. He only knows he manages to catch the leader camel as it is confusedly running in circles and pulls Phichit into safety. The whole camp is in a warlike state, the animals all over the place and the guards trying to catch them all. Therefore Yuuri and Phichit manage to slip away and find their way back to the safety of their tent unnoticed. Yuuri quickly rips the clothes off their bodies, returns them to the trunk and pulls the tunics not too gently over their heads. Phichit has no time to protest as he is pulled to Yuuri’s bed under the sheets and is grasped in his friend’s embrace holding his breath.
Sure enough, Mila rushes into the tent without announcing herself, yells and asks about their safety. Yuuri pretends to be woken up and rubs his eyes with fake grogginess. He answers her obediently and she mentions only that there were intruders in the camp and says she needs to go back, quick apology sent their way over her shoulder.
Yuuri releases all the air from his lungs and feels like a heavy stone fell off his back. His throat is still clenching with anxiety, but it’s a moment of peace he allows himself to take. He takes a few breaths, trying not to let the dread wash over him like a tsunami and counts quietly in his mind to keep himself calm.
A silent whisper echoes behind his back from under the covers, so he looks at Phichit’s face with a scowl. He has every right to be angry, but stops in his tracks the moment he sees huge eyes staring back at him. Phichit looks like he’s about to cry and says meekly.
“Yuuri, can I puke now?”
Yuuri doesn’t have the time to answer or do anything at all, because Phichit throws himself right into Yuuri’s instinctive embrace and vomits all over his tunic. At that point Yuuri decides to just hold his friend and pet him comfortingly as he heaves. All things considered, this night was a big win. Disguise, camel chase and a hot desert royal. What does the vomit and not enough sleep matter, when all this excitement flushes his body? Well maybe it is all the adrenaline speaking, but Yuuri finds he doesn’t regret any of that at all. Phichit owes him big time and Yuuri is sure going to make him pay for it. For now he finds some satisfaction looking at him like this, because he knows Phichit already regrets his actions enough as it is.
So once Phichit more or less finishes vomiting and starts complaining in dramatic agony, Yuuri knows his queue and walks out of the tent and to find a guard who calls a servant immediately. The woman gives him fresh clothing and gives him water and towels once he briefly explains that his friend is sick.
The guards don’t ask anything; clearly every person in the camp is up and occupied, trying to asses all the damage and turn chaos into order again. As Yuuri is about to pass the entrance to their tent he sees the white robes in the distance. The Sheikh is talking to a group of people and he exchanges a few words with his father, sending him back to his tent in a kind manner.
Yuuri hesitates a little and lets his gaze scan the tall man’s silhouette once more now that he has the time and the stranger’s eyes are not hypnotizing him like a magical cobra. Even from afar Yuuri can see the grace with which the man moves, elegant, muted and not brash. There is not a hint of anger shown in his actions or the clear voice directed at his people. He doesn’t hear much from the distance and can't understand anything at all due to the foreign language, but he can tell it from the tone of his voice and see in the reactions of the people the Sheikh speaks with. This man has their respect, undivided attention and trust.
Yuri confirms his suspicion: It’s clear that Victor wants the substance very much, as he is very hospitable and had even granted them an exceptionally quick audition, but it doesn’t mean he is servile. On the contrary, he is a proud and successful man, confident in his deserved achievements. A victor.