A/N: Oops, forgot to update this.

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When the Wild Waits

"I don't like it," Otabek said to Yuri.

An obvious statement, Otabek thought. No person right in their mind would actually like the Rot, but it felt better to say it aloud. They were to the north of the village again, standing beside each other. It was a cloudy day and bitter cold. Sunlight peeked through the clouds and touched the snow with a harsh glare.

Otabek's fingers were curled tightly into the scruff at the base of Yuri's neck as they stared out. His hand was always there as of late, it was never not there because Otabek found that holding onto Yuri was something that calmed him.

Yuri was a tiger. Powerful and intelligent, and amazingly, no longer terrifying. He grounded Otabek. Yuri purred lowly under his touch, nudging Otabek's thigh gently with the tip of his nose.

Otabek had stopped thinking about how weird their friendship was. It bothered him more to dwell on it, so he didn't, and it had led to a kind of peace that Otabek hadn't felt in a very long time. Maybe ever.

Together they stared at the Rot that devastated the land. Dark and rotten grass, patchy across barren soil that refused to root plants. Stone plateaus that crumbled to the ground because they couldn't hold themselves together anymore.

"It feels wrong," Otabek finally said. Yuri said nothing, not that he could. It was odd, how Otabek forgot that Yuri couldn't talk because half of the time he expected him to. Otabek let out a long sigh and shifted the pack that hung on his back. "Come, let's find a place to break. I'm hungry."

Yuri yawned in response, but left his side to scout ahead, tail swishing behind him.

####

Yuri was a messy eater, but Otabek was used to it by now. Yuri had found a decent looking rabbit, not too far rotted, and had torn into it with gusto. Now he was licking the fur of his paws, trying to clean the blood off.

So vain, for a tiger, Otabek thought.

His own lunch was a meager portion of venison jerky and a hard bread roll. Nothing that would fill him, but it would help. Otabek thought as he chewed long and hard at the meat.

"Grandfather told me that the Rot came from the North," he said to Yuri. "From Rus."

Yuri paused in his bath to level Otabek with a long stare, green eyes twinkling with curiosity as he listened. So, Otabek continued.

"The first time they came," he said around a mouthful of jerky, "They were trying to find a way to stop it. My tribe has mysterious ways-" Otabek said it with a snort. "They wanted to see if we could help. My grandfather said that he couldn't."

He paused for a moment and then, "I think my grandfather just wouldn't. Something about leaving it to the Weaver." Otabek sighed. "I've never put much stock in it, the Weaver, the Beyond, or any of it really but-"

He looked back out to the dead Steppe, frowning. "It's hard now. What kind of thing would cause this?" Otabek rubbed at his chin as he thought. "I feel so useless. I can't help, I can't do anything about this. It'll bleed further south and eventually to our home. For the first time, I understand my family's stubbornness. I don't want to lose my home either."

Yuri licked his paw several more times and then rolled onto his back, belly up to catch the what little warmth the sun gave them. Otabek couldn't help but give him a tiny little smile, before reaching out and rubbing along his soft belly. He'd never done it before, but he had also never been given such a clear opportunity.

Yuri didn't protest, head falling back into the snow and tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Otabek smiled wider. "More like a dog, than a cat," he said, fingers digging into the coarse fur.

Yuri seemed to take offense to that, but he didn't roll back over either.

####

Otabek knew that they would see Victor again, but he had thought it would be under different circumstances.

"We've come requesting to trade." Victor had dismounted his horse entirely this time, petting her flank gently before stepping away. The prince looked tired, dark shadows circling under his eyes, and perhaps a little thinner than when they met weeks before.

Otabek's grandfather sighed softly. "We don't have a lot to offer in the way of trade."

Victor tried not to look offended, but Otabek saw how his lips tightened slightly. But then the prince sighed as well, running a tired hand through his hair. "If I were to be honest, neither do we."

"But you have something," Otabek said.

Victor's gaze shifted from his grandfather to him. Otabek didn't know the prince at all, but he could tell that there was a coolness to his demeanor. Victor didn't seem to like Otabek very much, and Otabek couldn't fathom why. They had only met once.

"I would be interested to see what you have to offer," Otabek's grandfather said. "We don't have much, but I never claimed we didn't have a little. We could still come to an agreement."

Victor took his time answering and Otabek knew that it was because he was still unused to their dialect. It wasn't far different from his own, not really, but the grammar of the Steppe was a little more complicated than his high-strung common tongue.

"We have furs," Victor finally said. "High-quality furs and blankets."

"We have furs ourselves," Otabek's grandfather said. "My grandson is wearing one."

Otabek was; a wolf pelt fashioned into a warm cloak by his sister. Yuri had helped him take the beast down with little more than an annoyed growl, so Otabek was rather fond of it.

"But are they mink? Soft and unique, imported from across the strait-"

"What good would such small creatures do for us?" Otabek's grandfather interrupted. "Line our gloves? We already have those as well."

There was another crack in Victor's cheerful facade, and Otabek had to hide a smile behind his hand. It didn't matter if Victor was the High Prince of Rus and heir-apparent, his grandfather would be just as harsh with him as anyone else.

And Victor wouldn't do anything about it because he'd clearly underestimated surviving the deep winter in the Steppe if he had willingly crawled back to them for help.

"Your Highness," said the man from behind Victor. The shorter, quainter man with hair like smooth black spider silk. He had little round glasses perched on his nose. He wasn't from Rus, Otabek could tell. His coloring was too pale and his eyes too dark.

Victor turned to him, leaning back slightly. The guard stepped forward to whisper something in his ear. The prince sighed, rubbing at his brow, but then turned back to Otabek's grandfather.

"Vodka," Victor said, sounding a little bit defeated. Otabek wanted to laugh again. Of course, they had brought vodka with them, the men of Rus practically bled the substance. They probably felt like they would die without the deep burn searing through their bellies at night.

"We don't have a lot to spare," Victor continued, "but there is some if you were to be interested. The best available, distilled by the only man that I trust to do it. He's been around since my grandfather. You would find no finer vodka in your life."

The prince didn't mean it as an insult, but Otabek bristled at his words. His grandfather, though, thought about the offer seriously, thumbing at his chin lightly. Then, he held up a finger.

"A moment," Otabek's grandfather said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his bone dice. He hobbled to a cask next to a nearby yurt and they all watched him toss the hand. He hummed as he read the results, mulling over his decision.

To Otabek's surprise, Victor didn't seem to mind his grandfather's superstition, instead intrigued.

Finally, Otabek's grandfather turned to them once more. "I will lend you my grandson," he said.

"What-"

"Grandfather-"

"Otabek is our best hunter," the old man cut in without preamble. "And lately, he's been bringing home nearly double his usual fare. We have nothing to trade physically, but he can easily help you find meat if that is agreeable."

Victor floundered for a moment. "I- yes, that is agreeable."

"Grandfather," Otabek hissed, shooting him a pleading look. But the old man just stared back at him, expression infuriatingly calm. Unbothered. Mostly because he knew that Otabek wouldn't oppose him. Otabek wasn't traditional, but he respected his elders.

"Otabek knows these trails like no other," his grandfather said, turning back to Victor. He clapped Otabek on the back and gripped him tightly by the neck. A warning. "He will help you find game, and then you will provide the vodka, yes?"

"Yes," Victor said. He stepped closer and held out his hand to shake on it. Otabek's grandfather let go of his neck, and with a huff, took Victor's hand.

When Otabek didn't agree, his grandfather leveled him with another look. "Otchka?"

Otabek's ears practically burned red at the childhood nickname but he replied like the good grandson that he was. "Yes."

Victor looked pleased with himself; a little too pleased if Otabek didn't know any better, mouth curled into a knowing smile. Otabek had no idea what the prince was smiling about, and it felt like Victor was the only person who was privy to the joke.

"Come then, Otabek," Victor said. "We shouldn't waste daylight, yes?"

Otabek stayed rooted to the spot. "No, tomorrow morning." He looked up at the sky. It wasn't late in the day, but late enough that they wouldn't be able to go far enough to find decent meat. "And no horses."

Victor paused, fingers curling around the reins of his horse.

"They'll spook anything out there. Maya can watch them. She'll paddock them and give them some feed. I'll let her know tonight."

Victor paused, but then let go. "Maya?"

"My sister."

The prince hummed at that, reaching up to unfasten the pack from his horse. "It's been a long time since I've trekked through the snow on foot, but maybe that's why we've had no luck with our hunting."

Otabek didn't trust the prince. Victor was hiding something, but Otabek wasn't sure what. He met his grandfather's face once more, and found the old man staring back, face cradled by a wrinkled hand. He nodded to Otabek, and suddenly he understood.

His grandfather didn't trust them either.

"Tomorrow morning," Otabek repeated to Victor, "Be here by first light and pack light. A small lunch and only your weapons."

"I look forward to exploring these trails," Victor said, refastening the pack to his saddle. "We haven't been this direction quite yet. Who knows? Maybe we will spot my precious Yuri, hm?"

Otabek held still, willing himself to remain neutral. Victor watched him for a long moment and then broke out into a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. If anything, he was still watching Otabek carefully. Calculatingly.

Then his expression relaxed, as he hefted himself back onto his horse. "Tomorrow morning," Victor said, looking down at Otabek from his saddle. "At first light. I'll try to pack light, but old habits die hard."

Otabek frowned. Nope, the prince wasn't to be trusted.

It wouldn't be a hunt for meat Otabek suddenly realized, it would be a hunt for information. Otabek wasn't good with people, but he was good at watching them. Observing. Listening and learning.

He would figure out what it was that the prince was hiding.

####

"You know well the reason that I've been bringing home double the game," Otabek said to his grandfather later that night.

His grandfather was sitting outside his yurt, sipping kumis. It was a nightly ritual, and recently he had shared it with Otabek. He hummed at his words, swirling the cup in his hand gently.

"So you admit it then?" his grandfather finally said. "That you know where the tiger is?"

"You cannot expect me to risk his life," Otabek said, ignoring the question.

"Of course not," his grandfather said, frowning. He seemed offended at such an accusation. "Otchka, sit."

Otabek sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly, but he did as he was told.

"You know why I've asked this of you," his grandfather said, setting down his cup on the little wooden table next to him. He pulled the bottle of kumis from the snow and pulled another cup from his pocket. His grandfather poured out a portion and held it out to Otabek.

"You didn't ask," Otabek said, reaching for the cup. "You forced my hand."

"Ah, no, the Weaver did that, my grandson."

Right, the bone dice. Otabek let out a long breath and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His grandfather didn't miss the look.

"I know that you have little faith, Otckha," his grandfather said quietly.

Otabek started at that slightly. It wasn't really a secret that neither he, nor Maya held the deep beliefs that the rest of their family did, but it wasn't common for his grandfather to comment on it. Usually, he preferred to ignore it entirely.

The kumis burned its way down his throat. "My faith-"

"It is alright," his grandfather said.

An awkward silence fell over them and it led to Otabek drinking through his kumis faster than he normally would. He turned down a refill.

"I will do my best to learn what it is the prince wants," Otabek said.

"We know what it is that he wants," his grandfather said. "His tiger. He won't leave until he finds him."

"There's something else," Otabek said. "Why go to such lengths for a pet?"

"Do you think that the tiger is truly just a pet?" His grandfather leveled him with a long, contemplative stare.

"No," Otabek said with a thick swallow. "I don't."

"I didn't think so."

"He's unusual. Yuri, I mean," Otabek said. His grandfather blinked slowly, and Otabek realized that this was the first time that he said anything about him. So far, he had deflected any and all conversation about Yuri. "He's not quite like a tiger, he's more like a man. Clever and intelligent. He's my friend."

"You care for him," his grandfather surmised.

"I refuse to let Victor take him back," Otabek said firmly.

His grandfather was quiet for a long time, sipping at his drink. "You claim to have no faith," he finally said, "but I wonder what it was that brought your tiger all the way here? Of all places?"

Otabek didn't answer. Instead, he pulled at his fingers with nervous energy. "You're thinking too far into things, grandfather," Otabek said.

"Am I?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his dice, and Otabek actually rolled his eyes this time. His grandfather tossed them onto his little table and read them over, rubbing at his chin idly. Whatever it was that he saw, he didn't comment on it.

Instead, he said, "My hope is that the prince will back off if you hunt with him tomorrow. I worry for you, Otchka. Is this tiger worth risking your life?"

Yes, was the immediate thought that Otabek had. Yuri was worth everything because for the first time in Otabek, he truly had a companion. Someone that wasn't his sister to share things with. He didn't say that though.

"The only thing that Yuri has done wrong was being captured in the first place," Otabek said with a sigh. "He deserves freedom."

"I agree," his grandfather said. "Just don't lose yourself in the process, yes? You're the only thing keeping us alive."

Otabek smiled at that. "You and I both know that Maya is just as good a huntress."

"She is," his grandfather agreed, "But you would be hard-pressed to get her up before sunrise."

At that, Otabek laughed. His grandfather filled his own cup once more and looked at Otabek, holding out the bottle between them. "Now then, when will we share that drink with the tiger?"

Otabek stopped laughing. He didn't like the knowing smile that had spread across his grandfather's weathered face. In fact, he hated it.

"I'll take that refill now," Otabek said instead of answering the question.

####

Victor surprised Otabek the next morning, by arriving at the village in rather plain-looking doeskin leggings and a gray linen shirt, with a thickly furred parka thrown over it. He wore nice boots, but they were older and well-worn. He was also on time, despite looking tired and a little sluggish.

Otabek was also surprised by the fact that he had only brought one man with him- his personal guardsman. The one with the gentle demeanor and glasses slipping carelessly down his nose.

Victor must have seen the confusion on Otabek's face, as he unfastened the pack that was attached to his saddle. "You mentioned spooking any game that we might come across," Victor said, pulling apart a buckle. "So I brought the quietest man that I have. Yuuri."

The name was different than Yuri's, the word flexed with a contrasting tone. Otabek was caught off guard. The man looked up at the mention of his name, shouldering his own pack and strapping it across his chest. The only weapon he had brought was a sword, belted neatly around his hip.

He was more formally dressed than Victor, but it was likely because he was actually working.

"Will the three of us be enough?" Victor asked.

Otabek nodded. "I hunt alone, so three will be plenty."

"Alone," Victor said quietly, thumbing his jawline. Thinking. "No other men to help?"

"They've all left. What you see here in the village, is all we have. The others moved on."

Victor looked surprised. "And why is that?"

"Why do you think?"

Victor was a prince of Rus, he would know about the Rot. There was little point in explaining, so Otabek didn't. He stared Victor down instead with the simple question. Victor's mouth twitched slightly, before tugging downward.

"I see," was his response. "A shame."

To Otabek's surprise, Victor sounded truly remorseful, which was something that he hadn't expected from the man. The prince sighed, before strapping his pack around his chest. They had tied the horses to a post in the middle of their village. Maya would come for them later.

Yuuri stepped next to Victor, pushing his glasses up his nose, looking a little bit awkward. Victor brushed snow off his jacket. Otabek sighed, wondering if this was going to be more work than he anticipated. He also weighed his options when it came to ordering the prince around on the hunt.

He tested the waters, by telling them it was time to push off. Otabek was surprised that Victor followed without any fuss.

####

It was several hours and lunchtime later when Otabek realized that he had read the prince entirely wrong.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Victor was hiding something, and that he was incredibly talented at manipulating how people perceived him, but Otabek felt that the prince was being mostly genuine with him.

Whatever he was hiding clearly dealt with Yuri, but Victor had no ill will toward Otabek.

Victor was an oddly casual man. They sat underneath an overhang to cut the cold breeze of the bitterly cold day. Victor reached into his pack and pulled out a small parcel; a lunch that he had packed himself. And then he pulled out a second and handed it to Yuuri, having packed one for his guardsman as well.

Yuuri was a quiet man. He ate silently, feet tucked underneath him as he sat on his legs. There was a gentle grace to the way that he held his bread roll, and to how he chewed at his salted beef. But he watched, and he listened, and nothing seemed to escape his attention.

Victor on the other hand was loud, cracking jokes and leaning back against the craggy stone. He didn't seem to care if his coat got dirty, or that he had no napkins, or that he shared a water skin with a nomad and his guard.

Otabek had never met another member of royalty, but he was fairly certain that they weren't usually like this. Otabek nibbled on a piece of venison jerky, as he quietly regarded the prince.

"I'm surprised that you are still out here," Otabek finally said, unable to help himself. "Looking for your tiger." He had told himself that he would tread lightly, but he was far too curious to let the idea go.

Victor bit into his bread roll, looking out across the snow. "If I were, to be honest, I wish that I could leave him be. I would even prefer it."

Otabek paused, head cocked to the side as he watched him carefully, but he saw no signs of deceit. If anything, Victor looked tired. Weary. Exhausted. Yuuri too, with little circles underneath his eyes, as he bit off a small bite of a cheese round.

"I'm attached to Yuri," Victor continued. "I don't like chaining him down, but sometimes there is no choice. He has his uses and he knows far too much."

"He's a tiger," Otabek said. "What could he possibly know?"

"Hm, I wonder?"

At that moment, Otabek realized that he wasn't the only person who had noticed that Yuri was unusual and that scared him. It made him scared for Yuri. Otabek longed to protect the beast, but it would be hard. Victor seemed incredibly determined.

And then Otabek noticed something. Yuuri, the quiet guardsman. He watched Victor carefully, mouth slightly parted like he was about to say something. Eventually, his mouth snapped back shut, but his eyes glinted with a warning. Alive and alert, one hand carefully slipping down to the sword hilt at his waist.

The movement was so practiced and smooth that Otabek had barely noticed it.

"Yuuri," Victor said, "It's fine." Yuuri sighed, but let go of his sword, settling back into his lunch.

"Don't mind him," Victor continued. "He's just cautious."

"When it comes to talking about your pet."

Victor did that thing again where he smiled, but it was small and subtle and didn't reach his eyes. Not a real smile, but an acrid little thing that hid a lot and bothered Otabek.

"You mentioned that everyone left," Victor said, changing the subject abruptly. "Earlier, I mean. And judging by how you treat me, your grandfather has told you about the Rot."

"He said it came from the North."

"He would be right," Victor said. He finished the last hunk of his salted beef, rubbing his fingers along the soft leather of his leggings. "Otabek, I want you to know that I'm trying to fix it, but it's easier said than done."

"And so you hunt a tiger instead," Otabek said, just a little bit bitter. He didn't think Victor was lying about wanting to help, but his hunt for Yuri seemed frivolous in comparison.

"And so," Victor agreed. He motioned to the waterskin and Otabek handed it over. "I promise you Otabek, I have my reasons."

"I haven't seen your tiger," Otabek said to him.

"So you've said, and that's alright. We will continue to look for him on our own. These trails aren't as hard to follow as I would have thought. Thank you for showing us."

Otabek froze and tried to remain neutral. That hadn't been his intention. Yuri and he would have to be far more careful when venturing out from thereon. Otabek would steer them clear of this area entirely. In fact, he was surprised that Victor hadn't asked for his help in hunting Yuri down after his grandfather had made apparent his skills.

"Let's finish our lunch," Otabek said, steering the conversation away. "We have a bit further to go if we want to find an area with clean meat."

Victor's face fell slightly at that, but the look was as gone as soon as it had come.

Otabek had learned several things throughout lunch. Victor wasn't a bad person, and he seemed genuinely bothered by how far the Rot had spread. He had also learned that there was definitely something to Yuri, but most importantly- Otabek paused in his thoughts to cast a glance at Yuuri.

He was talking quietly with Victor, his voice soft with a lilting accent. Otabek hadn't forgotten how he moved with such grace and ease. Well-practiced. He and Yuri would have to give Victor a wide breadth, but it was Yuuri that they should entirely avoid.

####

Yuri was there when Otabek stepped into his yurt, already pressing his forehead into his thigh. It was his customary greeting every night, just a little headbutt. Otabek would reach out and scratch behind his ear before moving to ready himself for the night.

This time though, Yuri went rigid under his grip, his nosed pressed tight against his pant leg. Sniffing him. Then Yuri growled, pulling back to glare at him.

Otabek blinked. Three-quarters of a year had passed since they met. He had learned that Yuri was incredibly expressive, but this was the first time he had seen anything like it; the slight narrowing of the tiger's green eyes, his upper lip curled in disgust.

"Yuri," Otabek said quietly, already knowing that he smelled Victor all over him. Yuri huffed before pulling away to settle into Otabek's cot across the space, face cradled by his paws. Watching Otabek in annoyance. Sulking.

Otabek lit an oil lamp, then he went and peeled his clothing off, washing in the small basin on the opposite side of his home. Yuri watched him quietly but remained nestled into the soft pillows, green eyes glinting in the low light of the lamp. Then he huffed again.

Otabek paused in washing his face, hands dripping water everywhere. "Yuri?" he asked.

The tiger let out a long sigh before rolling over, planting his back to face him. Otabek's gaze swept along the curve of Yuri's spine and the sharp jut of his powerful shoulders. Then he sighed, dipping his hands back into the water to finish washing up.

Otabek tugged on a clean pair of pants and a shirt, leaving the tunic untucked. He crossed his yurt, only to stop before his cot. Hesitating.

"I know this is about Victor," Otabek finally said. Yuri still had his back to him, body rising and falling with short, irritated breaths.

Otabek let out a frustrated grunt but settled into the pillows and furs. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before he said, "He came to the village yesterday wanting to trade. They are having trouble finding game."

Yuri couldn't help but snort at that. He sounded amused and not remotely surprised.

"Grandfather told them I would go hunting with them," Otabek continued. "I had no choice in the matter, and I get why he did it. He wants to learn what exactly the prince is up to, and he's also trying to protect you."

Yuri let out a small huff, his even breathing stuttered for a brief moment.

"Victor surprised me," Otabek said quietly. He was still on his back, still staring at the ceiling of his tent. He counted the stitches of embroidery in the low lamplight as he thought. "He wasn't what I expected and that bothers me. I don't think he's bad though. He said that he wished he could let you go free."

There was a tense silence that fell over them. Yuri was the first to move, slowly sitting up to look at Otabek, green eyes glittering in the dark. He still looked annoyed, but also pensive, his gaze far off and a little distant. It surprised Otabek.

He reached out to press a hand to Yuri's head, but he paused. "You don't actually hate him, do you?" Yuri snorted, a vexed sound, but there wasn't any anger there.

"You just wanted to be free," Otabek said, and then he gave him a knowing smile. "Jealous, were you? No need to be; I would have much preferred to spend my day with you."

Yuri curled his upper lip back, but Otabek knew that it wasn't a true threat. Then the tiger turned around to ignore him again.

"Yuri," Otabek said, "Look at me."

Yuri paused for a long moment but looked back. He stared Otabek down with an intense gaze.

"You have the eyes of a soldier," Otabek said to him. There was another long stretch of silence between them. "Yura," Otabek said, testing the nickname. He had thought about it for a while. Yuri deserved the familiarity of a close friend, and it was the first time that Otabek had tried to use it.

Finally, Yuri moved to settle against his side, this time laying his soft head against Otabek's chest. Yuri didn't smell great, he smelled like earth and blood, and wet animal, but it didn't stop Otabek from leaning in and taking comfort in his presence.

"My Yura," he said again, "So strong and willful."

He expected Yuri to huff, but the tiger didn't, instead, shifting to press his cold nose against Otabek's skin. Otabek yelped slightly, but then laughed. "Jealousy doesn't suit you," Otabek said. "But it's fine. It's not as though I want anyone else here with me. Never forget that."

Yuri settled against him again, purring heavily against Otabek's side. Otabek ran his fingers through the scruff at his neck, massaging the skin there again.

"Grandfather still wants to share a drink with you."

At that, Yuri huffed.

####

There were more clouds than sunlight. Snow coated the ground in a dreary, muted gray. Otabek surveyed the trail with a frown, breath puffing out before him.

"We normally go east," Otabek said to Yuri. "We go east and we stick to these trails."

Otabek remembered what Victor had said to him a week prior. These trails aren't as hard to follow as I would have thought. Thank you for showing us.

Yuri waited at his side patiently, neck nestled underneath Otabek's grip. His fingers curl into the coarse fur immediately, just to hold on.

"South, I think," Otabek finally said. North wouldn't be any good because the Rot was prevalent there. West was mostly rocky plateaus and an occasional goat. Otabek didn't mind goats, but he knew that his family was near sick of them.

There was water to the south and plenty of game. Rabbits, deer, and even wolves. They didn't eat wolves, but their pelts were warm and soft, a prime choice. Otabek preferred to head east only because the rolling plains of the deep valley were closer to home and easier to navigate, instead of the rocky streams that spread southwards.

That, and he didn't like the lake. Or water in general.

Yuri looked up at him, green eyes narrowed slightly.

"There is a reason," Otabek said to him, but he didn't elaborate. Yuri huffed, but looked away. "As I said," Otabek continued, "South. Grandfather will be glad to see something other than a goat."

Yuri looked to him again, mouth open in what could be described as a grin. Then, he bolted off, heading south over the snow. Otabek smiled softly and followed.

####

His clan didn't have a name for the lake that stretched wide between two high hillsides. It was covered in a thick sheet of ice, but Otabek knew better than to trek over it. Ice could be deceptive in its looks; thick here but thin there. It wasn't worth the risk, his grandfather had told him growing up.

Yuri ran the length of the shore, snapping at birds and chasing them off. And Otabek watched, hands curled tightly around a bow and arrow that he kept constantly half-knocked. Again, safer than sorry.

His friend brought to him a bird, dropping it at his feet with little ceremony. It was a pheasant, decently plump despite the bitter season. Otabek knelt, reaching out and pressing his hand into Yuri's fur.

"This one looks good," he said, fingers rubbing behind his ears before cresting down the smooth flat of his snout. Yuri purred under the touch, his chest puffing out proudly. Otabek didn't laugh, but he smiled, patted his nose softly. "Bring me another?" Otabek asked.

Yuri's tail swished as he turned and bounded off again. Otabek watched instead of hunting. Yuri blended into the snow effortlessly, even with his stripes, tucked low as he stalked forward on paws to pounce on his prey. His powerful shoulders rippled and stretched with impressive strength, and not for the first time, Otabek was glad that he wasn't on the end of it.

Yuri brought him another bird, jaws holding it gingerly with an astonishing amount of care. Before he could drop it at Otabek's feet, Yuri paused, head snapping up as his gaze trained on the land behind Otabek.

Otabek froze, having long ago learned to watch and listen to Yuri's cues. He looked behind him, grip tight around his bow, but saw nothing. Only the heavy snow that blanketed the lakeshore. He glanced back to Yuri, but the tiger was gone, having taken the bird with him. Otabek didn't drop his guard, back stiff with alertness.

A stone skittered along the ground and Otabek turned once more, bow held upright, the string pulled taut next to his cheek.

"Ho there, Otabek," Victor, the prince of Rus said. He was dressed like the week prior, soft doeskin leggings, and a simple shirt, paired with a heavy fur coat. His cheeks pink with the cold, and he smiled at Otabek.

It wasn't friendly, it didn't meet his eyes, instead stretching half-wide under his sharp gaze.

Yuuri stood behind him, hand resting carefully on his sword, already thumbing the blade from its sheath. Head cocked to the side as he watched and listened. Waited. Otabek swallowed thickly.

"Your Highness," Otabek said.

"I do believe I asked you for familiarity the last time that we met. Please put the bow away."

Otabek didn't. His fingers tightened around the bowstring, knuckles nearly white. Something wasn't right here, something was off. "What are you doing here?" Otabek nearly growled, but he managed to level his tone. Getting angry wouldn't do him any good.

Victor was still smiling that acrid, teasing grin, and it felt like he was in on a joke that Otabek wasn't privy to. "Otabek, I ask you once more, put the bow down. I have no ill will toward you."

"Easy words," Otabek said, "Coming from a man who clearly only cares for himself."

Victor frowned, his lips dropping immediately as his entire posture changed. A chink in his carefully built facade. "There are many things that you don't know, nomad." And just like that, Otabek had been swiped to the side as a friend and reverted back to nothing but a nomad.

"Where is Yuri?" Victor asked him then. Not angry. Not impatient, just a simple question.

"I've told you before, I don't know where your tiger is."

The prince let out a soft sigh and then pointed to the pheasant at Otabek's feet. He'd been so engrossed in watching Yuri hunt, that he hadn't yet tied it to his pack properly. It was painfully clear that it hadn't been killed with a bow.

Victor didn't seem remotely surprised and Otabek's gaze narrowed.

"You didn't come to trade with us," he said.

"I did not lie," Victor said. "We heavily underestimated how cruel winter is here and we were in desperate need of food." His gaze turned, appraising as he watched Otabek. "I knew though, the moment that I met you; I just knew that you had seen him. Yuri, for as much as he complains, likes the company of others."

"Tigers are solitary creatures," Otabek said.

"You and I both know that Yuri isn't like most tigers." Victor paused to rub at his chin, almost like the entire exchange was exhausting him. "You showed us the trails," he said softly. "I thank you for that because I do not want to harm you. I told you where our camp was because I knew that you would avoid it. I am actually quite a good tracker."

Clearly. Still, Otabek didn't drop his bow, even though his arms burned with the strain and the only thing that he wanted to do was put an arrow through the prince's throat. Otabek's eyes flickered over to the guardsman who still watched casually.

Otabek knew that he'd be dead before Victor would hit the ground.

"Otabek, I will ask one more time. Where is Yuri? I only want to take him home."

"No," Otabek said. "No, I won't- He clearly doesn't want to be there, he deserves to be free."

Something in Victor's eyes flashed at that and he looked remorseful, almost. "He actually deserves more. This would come as a surprise to you, but I owe Yuri my life. I don't forget things like that, nor do I let them go." He paused, considering his next words. "Things are complicated, though. It isn't Yuri's fault that he's tangled in such a large web, but there are things that even I can't ignore."

"You ignore the Rot," Otabek accused.

Yuuri moved, faster than Otabek had anticipated. He danced around Victor and seconds later he was behind Otabek with a dagger at his throat. Otabek wanted to laugh; of course, he had more than a sword. Otabek dropped the bow and arrow, and they clattered to the ground uselessly.

But Yuuri didn't move. And Victor only sighed.

"Otabek, I appeal to you again. I have never lied. I care more about the Rot than you will ever know and that is why I need to bring Yuri back."

"What-" Otabek stopped when the blade dug deeper into his neck. Victor looked like he was about to say something else, handheld out to Yuuri, but everyone went rigid when there was a growl from the side.

No, Otabek thought. No, Yuri, get out of here.

Yuri stepped in between the prince and where Otabek and Yuuri stood. His green eyes blazed with an angry fire as his gaze met Otabek's. Otabek couldn't move, he couldn't shake his head, eyes wide with fear as he stared back.

I'm not worth it, he thought.

Yuuri was deceptively strong, arms wrapped around Otabek like the heavy weight of a boulder. The pressure of the blade didn't ease up, but strangely, Otabek didn't think that he wanted to cut him. It felt only like a threat, like a carefully placed maneuver-

Shit.

A move that would have drawn the tiger out.

"Yuri," Victor said softly. "Please come home."

Otabek wasn't sure what he expected, but the simple request wasn't it. Yuri snarled in response.

"Yuri," Victor tried again. He didn't step forward but he spoke his name like the tiger was an old friend. "I'm begging you to please come home. I'm trying to fix things, but I need you so I can do that."

Yuri hesitated, a low growl rumbling up through his chest. Otabek knew this response, he was thinking. Considering. Far more understanding than a tiger should be. You and I both know that Yuri isn't like most tigers.

"Yuri," Victor said for the third time, "I don't want to hurt Otabek."

Yuri hesitated, tail swishing and Otabek made his move. He leaned forward and then back, slamming his head back, his skull crashing against Yuuri's with a crack. Yuuri howled in pain, his grip loosening. Otabek slid out, turning to get in another hit.

Yuuri's nose streamed blood down his face, and he spat red liquid onto the ground. Broken, definitely broken. He still had the dagger though, slicing forward with a neat movement, blade whistling by Otabek's face. It snagged the skin at his neck, a thin little line that bled worse than it was.

Otabek cursed, trying to grab at Yuuri, but the guardsman was quicker, tackling Otabek to the ground and straddling his waist. The knife was at his throat again, this time pressed in close enough to cause a wince of pain.

Yuuri then paused, his head turning to the side. Yuri was there, mouth wide and teeth on display, far too close for comfort. The moment Yuuri slid the steel into his skin, Yuri would bite his hand off.

Victor and Yuuri were at a disadvantage, and they both knew it. Even though Yuuri was the picture-perfect of calm, Otabek could tell that he was wary. Hesitant. Waiting to see what to do.

They weren't stupid.

Victor chose that moment to finally walk closer, his boots crunching over the ice and snow, and he repeated, "I don't want to hurt him." His head jerked toward Otabek, but he watched the tiger carefully. "He's a good man and I see why you like him. Don't let him be a casualty of your precociousness."

Yuri snorted at that and Otabek nearly smiled. Nearly.

"Your Highness," Yuuri said unexpectedly. "We have the lower hand here."

"Yes, I know." Victor then sighed, dragging a hand through his hair dramatically. "It isn't smart to take you on, just the two of us. And Otabek is equally capable. We are at an impasse, Yuri."

Yuri's tail twitched as he and the prince watched each other for a long moment. Yuuri held still too, hanging over Otabek as he pinned him tightly between his legs. The blade at his neck didn't lessen, but it didn't worsen either. Always waiting, it seemed like.

"Once more, I ask you to come with me, Yuri. I am not angry, but I can be, and if I were, I would come back with my entire cadre of men to force your hand. Do you want Otabek's village to suffer?"

Yuri fell very quiet and looked back to where Otabek was. Their gazes met and Otabek croaked out, "Yura-" Yura, what? Don't give himself up? Give himself up? Yuuri shifted slightly over Otabek as he glanced between the two of them in interest and the blade eased up the tiniest bit. "Yura," Otabek said again, "Just go. Go with him."

It hurt to say it, but it would keep them all safe, especially Yuri. Otabek believed Victor when he said that he meant no harm. He had a feeling that the prince's hand was being forced by something bigger than the four of them.

Yuri hissed suddenly, his maw wide and teeth dripping with saliva. Victor's frown twitched the slightest bit, but he wasn't surprised. Otabek wasn't either.

"Yuuri," Victor then said, nodding towards him. The blade was gone and Yuuri was standing in a matter of seconds, brushing the snow off of his knees with ease to his movements. Otabek blinked as he sat up, still watching Yuuri carefully.

"Not tomorrow," Victor said to them, "but soon. I would prefer it not to be your home, Otabek."

Their next meeting he meant, Otabek realized. Victor sighed one last time, shooting Yuri a regretful glance. Then he turned away and motioned for Yuuri to follow.

At first, Yuuri didn't move, his mouth parted as though he wanted to say something. He glanced at Yuri and then Otabek, one hand rubbing at the palm of his other. Hesitating. Victor paused in his step but didn't say anything.

And neither did Yuuri. The look he gave Yuri was indecipherable, but it was a tiny crack in his cold exterior and for a slight moment, Yuuri looked almost human. And then it was gone, and Yuuri was walking away.

Yuri was immediately at Otabek's side, headbutting against him, forehead pressed against Otabek's own. Warm, coarse fur, and ill-smelling breath, but Otabek sank into the touch, fingers reaching up to grasp near his whiskers.

"Dumb," Otabek said, "Dumb-" Yuri huffed at that and Otabek couldn't find it within him to be mad. "You're safe," Otabek murmured against him, arms wrapping around Yuri's shoulders tightly. He was cold, pants soaked through with wet snow, but he didn't care.

"You're safe," he repeated.

Yuri didn't whine, or purr, or even snort, he just pressed his cold, wet nose into Otabek's neck as he held on.

When they finally looked, Victor and Yuuri were gone.

It was dark by the time they made it back to the village and Otabek's grandfather was waiting for them. When Yuri moved to separate and slink around the back of the village, Otabek gripped his fur tighter.

"Wait," he said. Yuri paused, green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight as their gazes met. Otabek was suddenly tongue tied, mouth full of sand and tongue thick like cotton. Finally, he managed, "There isn't a point in hiding."

Because Victor would come for him anyway.

Yuri huffed and turned, intent on playing it safe, and Otabek spoke again. "My grandfather wants to share a drink." Yuri paused, tail twitching from side to side. Not agitated, but intrigued. "With you, I mean," Otabek continued. "He's been bothering me about it for months. So… there isn't a point."

Yuri turned back to him and they walked into the village together.

####

Otabek was half-dressed when his grandfather pulled aside the flap of his yurt, walking in without an invitation. He looked to Otabek, who was paused in changing, and then his eyes flickered to Yuri. Yuri, who had been admiring Otabek, rolled his gaze over to the old man.

His grandfather frowned with a huff, then looked back to his grandson. "The two of you owe me a drink." There was a pause, and then, his gaze sweeping back to Yuri, "It's rude to stare."

Otabek laughed. "He's a tiger," he said, pulling his shirt on completely and half-tucking it into his trousers. His grandfather didn't answer, only grunted in annoyance, and then left the hut, the canvas flapping closed behind him.

When they met him outside, Otabek's grandfather was sitting on a little wooden stool nestled against the yurt, an empty one next to him. There was plenty of room for Yuri to stretch out alongside their feet.

Otabek sat down and his grandfather deposited a wide, flat little cup into his hand before he could protest. "Just enjoy it, Otchka," his grandfather said, uncapping the bottle and pouring the milky liquid out. Otabek frowned but took a sip.

Yuri huffed from where he laid, face cradled by his large paws. Otabek's grandfather paused, looking at him. "Do you want some?" he asked plainly.

"Grandfather-"

"I think that our Yuri here wants some," his grandfather said. Then he pulled out a bowl from the basket next to him and laid it on the ground. Otabek's gaze narrowed. He had planned this. A generous helping 0f kumis was poured out and pushed toward the tiger. Yuri sniffed at it and then sneezed, whiskers twitching agitatedly.

Otabek laughed and his grandfather snorted.

The three of them sipped at their drinks in silence, watching the soft snowdrift blanket the dark landscape before them. His free hand hung limply at his side, fingers nestled into the coarse fur of Yuri's back.

"No bone dice, tonight?" Otabek eventually asked.

His grandfather took a sip of his drink, lips smacking as he let out a satisfied sigh. "Not tonight," he said. "I'd rather spend it alone without the influence of fate."

Otabek frowned slightly at that and his grandfather saw it.

"Bah, you and your disbelief," his grandfather said, but it was more kind than not, teasing almost. "So quick to dismiss and yet here we are with a tiger at our feet. One who seeks company and comfort, rather than a meal."

"Yuri just happened to be there when I needed help," Otabek said. "There's nothing more to it than that."

"No?" his grandfather asked.

Otabek's next words died on his tongue as he looked to Yuri at his feet. Yuri wasn't looking at him, instead staring out, but his ears were high and alert and Otabek knew that he was listening. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to it, but his grandfather was right. Of course, there was more to it.

"I try not to name it," Otabek finally said. "There isn't a point. Yuri and I are a pair now, and that suits us just fine."

His grandfather hummed at that, thinking. Then he said, "It's always a good day when we find our match."

Otabek laughed at that, just a short little thing. "Don't tell mother that, she'll be angry."

His grandfather was quiet for another moment. "Tell me, Otchka, do you see yourself marrying? Bedding down a wife and having children?"

Otabek almost said yes, but something stopped him. "A year ago, I would have said yes," he said softly. "It has never been about what I want, but rather what was expected. But this last year has been nothing expected at all, and now I-"

"When you were born, I told your mother that you were different."

Otabek looked to his grandfather, but the man wouldn't meet his gaze. Instead, he held his cup gently, as he watched the dark spread laid out before them. "Your mother is old and set in her ways."

"And you aren't?"

"I'm old, but flexible like the prairie grass."

Otabek laughed again, unused to hearing his grandfather speak so candidly. The man offered him a smile in return. "Don't feel as though you have to listen to her," he said to Otabek seriously. "Whatever you do, she'll come around. And there's still Maya."

"And there's still Maya," Otabek repeated, "who'd sooner poison a man than marry him."

Otabek's grandfather rubbed at his chin. "She rather likes that doctor from the east. The one who travels with the wolf-dog and pretends to dislike women. She would never admit to it, though."

At that, Otabek cringed. "Weaver rest his soul, then."

"And what about Yura?"

Otabek froze at that, fingers tight around his cup. The only others to ever have heard him call him that, were Yuuri and Victor. Otabek's grandfather had always had the uncanny ability to know things that he shouldn't.

"What of Yura?"

His grandfather gave him a long, sidelong glance before leaning over to Yuri. "Boy," he said, "what about Otchka here?"

Otabek's brow furrowed, but Yuri let out an amused snort as he sat upright. Then, he leaned against Otabek's leg, rubbing his face along his thigh before resting his chin in Otabek's lap. He purred low and deep, content with his new position.

His grandfather laughed at Otabek's obvious discomfort as his cheeks tinted peek. Otabek shouldn't be embarrassed, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Yuri was an overgrown cat who liked to cuddle close and keep warm in the cold.

Wrong, a little voice in the back of Otabek's mind said. Absolutely, utterly wrong.

"He's made his choice," Otabek's grandfather said with an amused chuckle. When he looked at Otabek and Yuri though, it was almost like his grandfather saw right through them. Maybe even saw something more. Otabek swallowed.

"He's a good one," his grandfather said. "Definitely worth keeping."

"Yeah," Otabek said thickly.

When his grandfather offered to top his cup off, he accepted. And then they fell quiet, watching the dark night, Otabek's fingers curled tightly into Yuri's neck as he purred deeply under his touch.