Chapter Text
Chapter one: One Night, Forever
“That’s the great thing about Masquerades, Yuuri. You can be anyone you want!”
Yuuri looked up from his work at the excitement in Phichit’s voice, as he twirled around the dingy room. The gas sconces did very little to light the dusty corners of the clothing shop’s backroom. The one window was heavily draped in old velvet swaths, no two pieces of fabric the same color, size, or texture. The room never saw light more substantial than the flickering flames. Yuuri turned back to the damask dress on his lap, paying Phichit no mind.
He had been this way since the announcement that morning. On December twenty fifth the Tsarevich would be celebrating his twenty fifth birthday. There was to be a magnificent ball every noble was invited to. Invitations were being sent overseas and visiting dignitaries were expected to begin arriving in the next few weeks. Already the streets were a buzz with who would be able to get through the palace gates.
“Just think of it, Yuuri! Dancing, amazing food! Being surrounded by riches, if only for a night!” Phichit clasped his hands before him as he stared in the dark distance with longing.
“And I suppose we just steal dresses and coats from our patrons?” He shook out the now mended dress with a vigorous snap. Waves of blue silk, so soft and fine it was like water between his fingers, billowed around him to settle in an artful fall across the his lap. Oh how he wanted to be able to wear something so beautiful. But it wasn’t meant for him.
“Of course not!” Phichit gasped, he went to an old carved wardrobe in the corner, throwing the creaking doors open with a flourish, revealing wracks of long forgotten wares. “Minako has all of this!” Inside were ball gowns with lace yellowed by age. Velvet coats that had long begun to shed. And several shelves of breeches, petticoats, stocking and shoes. All brought in and repaired with love, but were left here to rot when the owners either never returned for them, or found themselves unable to afford the repairs.
Phichit took down one of the dresses. The soft pink silk was still fine, even if the dress had gone out of fashion near five years prior. Phichit grabbed Yuuri by the arm, hauling him to stand before the round dressing mirror near the armoire. He held the dress up, covering the dull faded blue cotton of Yuuri’s work dress. And Yuuri had to admit that the color was lovely with his skin tone. It brought out the soft amber hue of his eyes, made the rosiness of his cheeks seem almost sultry.
But he couldn’t….
Phichit, either choosing to ignore Yuuri’s somber mood or simply not catching hint of it, continued his gushing. “We’ll have to update them! Take some of the lace left over from that wedding dress from last month. Use some of the seed pearls and beads from Minako’s stocks. She won’t even know if we put it all back when we’re done. Then the rest is just tailoring. And we do that everyday!”
And maybe he was crazy. Maybe he was a fool for getting wound up in the lovely picture Phichit was spinning around him. Of glitterings lights, bubbling champagne, and a night of luxury. His eyes snagged on a red velvet coat with tarnished buttons. All it needed was a good brush and polishing and Phichit would have an outfit worthy of an alpha lord. “But the beads are glass,” Yuuri’s heart dropped painfully. They could fix Phichit up, send him off and no one would give a second look to a foreign alpha.
But a foreign omega who showed up in a dated dress with glass beads….
Phichit threw the dress over the back of a lone chair. Taking Yuuri by the shoulders Phichit turned him to face him. “I want you to listen to me, Yuuri. You’re a lovely, amazing person. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met. And deserve to shine as brightly as you can. You deserve a night to simply enjoy yourself, Besides.” He smoothed Yuuri’s hair back from his face, with a gentle hand. “In the right light, glass can shine just as brightly as the most precious jewel.”
~
They worked tirelessly over the next month. During the day they were Minako’s obedient assistants. Running her errands and doing the routine tailoring and repairs that were too mundane for a master clothier like her.
And at night, after Minako headed to her own room, Yuuri and Phichit crept back downstairs to the work room. As quietly as they could they took what they needed from Minako’s supplies. Hand knitted silk lace, faceted beads of rosy glass and glittering opalescent pearls. Phichit took a polishing cloth, coat brush, and scent enhancer serum for them to use on their hastily made garments. While most people, mostly alphas and betas, used the scent enhancers to make sure their own personal scents were unmistakable in a growed. All the better to lure a mate with. Yuuri and Phichit’s main purpose was to cover the must stench of mothballs used to ward off mold and moths.
One night, against Yuuri’s better judgment and all of his arguments, using one of the sturdier needles Phichit picked the lock on Minako’s jewelry chest. Acquiring for them rings, necklaces, brooches, and earrings to adorn themselves with.
They squirreled away their nightly endeavors in the old wardrobe. Minako hardly looked in there. But if she did, well, they had no good excuse for fixing up two of her more expensive outfits. She wouldn’t agree with what they were doing. She’d take away the garments and keep a closer eye on them.
Minako’s distrust of the nobility ran deep in her veins, though she never spoke of why. The last thing Yuuri wanted to do was raise her ire just because he and Phichit wanted to have some fun.
It was tough work, and Yuuri would have never finished all the beadwork and embroidery on the gown if not for Phichit’s amazing tailoring skills. It wasn’t until the last moment. Yuuri stood before the old mirror, that he realized they had pulled it off. With several layers of petticoats the silk dress was full around his hips and flowed in soft pink waves to the floor.
His waist was cinched with tight, the corset and bodice studded with pearls and glass jewels that caught even the low light of the back room, to dazzle the eye. It was rather low cut. Another reason for which he was glad that Minako would never see him in it. The thin silk sleeves hung off his slender shoulders, edged with frothy lace. He took a moment to admire the jewelry Phichit had picked out for him. Tasteful pearl earrings with a matching bracelet. His hair was slicked back, held in place by a comb of carved rose quartz.
Phichit had taken pains to find him a choker of silver filigree. Strong enough to protect his vulnerable neck, but with enough holes to let his scent shine through. At twenty one Yuuri’s unmated status was common enough in his own social circles. He had an apprenticeship, and even as an omega it was expected that he would at least make it to journeyman status before searching for a mate. But only a few nobles ever waited so long. Yuuri had concocted the perfect the cover story should anyone grow suspicious.
Tonight he wasn’t the son of immigrants, and apprentice clothier. He was a traveling omega lady from Japan getting a few more years of schooling abroad before settling down a mate of his parent’s choosing. He was being escorted by his close family friend a duke from Thailand. Said Thai duke was currently dancing around the room behind Yuuri, using a old dress form as a dance partner.
He looked just as resplendent as Yuuri. After a good brushing and a healthy scenting to mask the musty stench of the wardrobe. The red coat was lustrous once more. With a steady hand Yuuri had used a tiny bit of gold thread to attach several red beads along the sleeves in a winding vine-like pattern. The same lace that adorned Yuuri’s dress draped gracefully from Phichit’s cuffs and collars.
A fact that worried Yuuri a little. If anyone actually noticed, their cover might be blown. But Phichit had assuage these fears by assuring Yuuri they would be far from the only commoners breathing new life into old garments. All eager to enjoy a night of indulgence at the Tsar’s expense. No one would be looking too closely at them tonight.
Last, but not least, they completed their outfits with masquerade masks. Yuuri’s was sewn from a pale swath of pink satin, lined with pearls and embroidery of silver thread and more of the glittering pink jewels. He had placed a few white feathers on either side, but other than that he chose not to present himself as any animal. Phichit had gone in a different direction. The golden scales that he had hand stitched into his red velvet mask could only be that of a dragon.
Phichit had hired a coach the day before, so the hardest part was getting out of the shop. Minako had gone up to her room a while ago, but there was no telling if she had fallen asleep. The clop of horses hooves echoed off the cobbles and stone buildings with a racket that grated on Yuuri’s nerves. He grit his teeth against the noise as he and Phichit climbed inside and hoped beyond hope that Minako didn’t look out her window and see them running off.
They had the cabby drop them off just outside of the palace grounds and joined the frey of party goers on foot. The snow had been swept off the path and expertly formed into glistening ice sculptures that lined the way.
This was it. After a month of hard work they were finally there. Through the racing of his heart, the electric pulse under his skin. Yuuri was actually….happy. An excited smile curled his lips as they drew closer to the grand double doors, and the warm glow spilling from inside. He held Phichit’s arm in a tight grip as the climbed the stairs.
Never in his life he been more ready. Until they walked through the doors and it all hit Yuuri full force.
Everything was so big! And shiny! And Bright!
They were dwarfed by everything in sight. The gleaming metal doors could fit an army through at once. The ceilings could accomodate an giant. Even The paintings on the walls showed handsome portraits of the royal family that were far larger than life.
Or so he hoped….he had never met any royalty in his life. Perhaps they were giants and truly needed such large accommodations. A nervous laugh bubbled up his throat at the silly notion. They were just normal people. Just like him.
Only rich. And powerful….And dangerous if they realized that he and Phichit were essentially stealing from them!
“Let’s go get you a drink, hm?” Phichit’s voice cut through his growing panic, his hand tightening on Yuuri’s arm as he lead them to the refreshment table draped in violet silk.
“We shouldn’t be here! Oh god, Phichit, they’ll know we shouldn’t be here!” Yuuri’s heart beat frantically in his chest. Fearing that he was both not speaking loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd and the lively orchestra that played. And that he was being far too loud and would certainly be overheard and they would be thrown in jail for their crimes.
And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.
“It’s going to be fine. Here,” Phichit handed him a flute of bubbling liquid, the color of Minako’s rose gold earrings she loved so much. “Drink this and take your mind off of everything. I promise to take care of you tonight.”
“But-”
Phichit cut him off with a raised hand. “Look,” he pointed to a gaily dressed couple in the corner. Two men, one dressed in a tunic of golden mesh, the other’s shirt was coated in feathers every color of the rainbow. “That one dressed like a parrot, that’s Seung-gil.”
Yuuri took a deep shuddering breath. “The baker?”
“Yes, Yuuri. The baker. See he’s here. And that one by him….” Phichit squinted at the boy in gold for a moment before snapping his fingers. “That’s Leo, he delivers the morning papers.”
Yuuri blinked at them silently. The paperboy and the baker. They were far less lucrative than Minako. Or even he and Phichit. Just last week someone came in asking for Phichit to hem their trousers. Him, not Minako. And there were many a lady that would only allow Yuuri to do the delicate needle work for their gowns.
The champagne bubbled as his hand warmed the glass. He didn’t need to taste it to know it would the best thing he’d ever drink. He didn’t need to see or smell the decadent foods to know he had never eaten something so fine in his life. And that he never would again. But wasn’t that the point of this night? To pretend.
He took a hesitant sip. Letting the effervescent bubbles wash over his tongue, tingling pleasantly, with a light lingering flavor. An aftertaste reminiscent of ripe summer berries. His next few sips were much deeper until he drained half the flute with a contented sigh.
“That’s the spirit!” Phichit laughed heartily before tipping his own flute back to drink deeply.
Yuuri couldn’t help laughing at Phichit’s zeal. His joy was always infectious. He had a knack for pulling Yuuri out of his head, and back into the moment. Like tonight. Yuuri was going to lay his worries to the side. Let Phichit lead him in a night of joy and abandon.
Tonight, Yuuri was going to live.
~~~
The room shone. Everything had been polished and buffed until it had a nice sheen. The chandeliers had been lowered. Each crystal had been dusted, and the broken pieces replaced.
A gesture Viktor found horrifically pointless. As though anyone would be able to see a cracked jewel from the floor. But his mother had been insistent. So certain that everything needed to be exactly perfect or their good names would be ruined for life.
And his mother always got what she wanted.
So the tables were set with luscious foods and intoxicating drinks. The floors were waxed to a high sheen and even the crown moldings on the ceiling had been dusted.
And then there was Viktor. Tall and proud in his bright maroon coat. He stood on a balcony overlooking the dancefloor. His hands resting lightly on the balustrade. He sighed as another set of foreign nobles entered the room. So many people he didn’t know, and never wanted to meet. He could spend the whole night simply shaking hands and rubbing elbows with. Making petty acquaintances that were far too eager to meet him for Viktor’s liking.
Which was probably the reasoning behind his father’s overly generous invitation.
At twenty five he was an oddity. Having turned down every potential mate that had been presented to him. Viktor was becoming something of a conquest in the noble circles. Christophe had jested that he had a bet running with the prince of France on how long it would take Viktor to actually find a mate.
Not he cared. Let them have their fun. The truth was Viktor wouldn’t relent on this one thing. He gave so much to his family. To his country. So many things he had given up on along the way. But this one thing. This single dream he would always hold onto. This single hope.
Above all else, Viktor wanted to mate for love.
The thought brought a twisted smirk to his lips. It was foolish to think that true mates were a thing. Even if deep down he still hoped. True mates may not exist, but love did. Oh love was real. Love was a many splendored thing. Love lifted you up where you belonged. All you needed was love!
Viktor ached so much for it. In his heart. Deep in his soul. He knew it was out there.
“You should go mingle, mon cher.”
Viktor looked up at the deep voice behind him as Chris wrapped a companionable arm around his shoulders. In his other hand he held a glass of wine, a deep ruby red, that he swirled with a lazy flick of his elegant wrist. Despite his practiced air of aristocratic nonchalance, his soulful green eyes were soft. Almost troubled behind his peacock mask.
“You’re thinking unhappy thoughts again. Aren’t you, Vitya?” Chris shook his head in mock exasperation. “And on your birthday.”
“Chris…” Viktor began, but Christophe stopped him with a sharp look.
“Just go down there for an hour. Have a few drinks, dance with a few lovely omegas. And try to have a good time. For me.” When Chris batted his long lashes and Viktor couldn’t help but laugh. He was so ridiculous. It was perhaps the reason that he was the only one able to lift Viktor’s spirits when he got in a bad way.
“One hour.” Viktor rose a long finger to emphasize his point.
Chris smirked into his glass, taking a sip. “The whole hour. I’m watching you.”
Viktor gave him a withering look as he left Chris to take up his perch watching over the crowd. He gave a quick thawk to Chris’ rump as he passed, eliciting a playful growl from him. And Viktor found himself laughing as he reached the stairs. The smile staying on his face as he descended into the madness being held in his honor.
Just an hour. Then he would flee back to room and give Makkachin some much needed love. He just had to survive for one hour.
Viktor adjusted his mask, the features of which resembled a fox done in silver silk with maroon jewels around the eyes. A perfect complement to the bright fuchsia of his coat. That and his long silver hair, twisted in an intricate braid down his back, were a clear indication of who he was. The crowd parted around him. A mass of hot bodies, an obscene use of a scent enhancers. Too many eyes on him. Too many hands reaching out to touch him. And all Viktor could do was smile, and nod, and take it.
He needed a drink.
Or five.
He headed straight for a table heavily laden with champagne flutes. Some were plain, some mixed with strawberries. Others were infused with rose, lavender, or orange blossom water. Viktor took one at random, draining half the contents before the overly floral, strong taste of lavender caught up with him. Fighting back a grimace he finished it off and replaced his empty flute for one with a pink tinged liquid. Much safer.
Glass in hand, Viktor milled around the room taking appropriate sips this time. There was a small gathering around one of the cleared sections of floor for dancing. He was able to pull to the front of the group easily. Several omegas eyed him curiously, some going so far as to move close enough so that their scent enveloped him. But Viktor paid them no mind. He was used to this sort of thing after a life of fending off pushy omegas who only wanted his name and rank.
There are several couples sweeping across the dancefloor. Omegas and beta ladies in fine gowns that fanned around them like the fragile wings of butterflies. They were lead across the floor by a mix of alphas and beta gentlemen. Delicately turned hands on broad shoulders. Large hands wrapped around small waists.
They all moved with the effortless air that bespoke years of training. Years of stiff instructors with unwavering regimes. The movements themself were always a joy to learn. The odd moments when Viktor could forget why he was learning them were some of his favorites growing up. When he could forget the ridged perfection that was expected of him, he enjoyed dancing very much.
But it had been so long now since he had felt that spark.
The couples swept across the floor, one after another passing Viktor by. It happened in a flash. Here and gone so fast Viktor almost thought it was his imagination. A couple passed in a blur of ruby red and rosy pink. An alpha and omega pair, both with dark hair, though the omega was much fairer complected. Their scents were happy, but not connected. It was the first thing that stood out.
Peaches, right at the peak of freshness, flowers freshly bloomed. Followed the clean scent of the sea. Bright, heady. Unmarked. Viktor followed them with his eyes. The omega, with shining tawny eyes, wore a silver filigree choker. Something that was in vogue for wealthy omegas. Enough of a barrier to keep alphas at bay but with plenty of holes to let their scents through.
And what a scent it was.
Viktor sipped his champagne as the dance went on. The pair shared easy smiles and soft laughter. But they weren’t together. Of that he was fairly certain. Even in courting an alpha wouldn’t their omega run around without scenting them. To sign to other alphas that this omega was taken. It just didn’t happen.
The final notes of the song drifted around him, and before he could take stock of what he was doing, Viktor was leaving the crowd and heading straight to them. Somewhere along the way he had lost his glass...but that wasn’t important. His name was called as he crossed the dancefloor. To which he paid no notice. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of the small omega.
“May have the honor of the next dance.” His smile was the kind, cheery demeanor he showed to the public. His scent calm and unthreatening so as keep from overwhelming the lovely vision before him. Unlike the wave the of pheromones he longed to release. Covering every inch of the omega’s creamy skin in his scent. Marking the omega as his. And though he tried no to, a little of an alpha command seeped through his voice.
It wasn’t playing fair. But Viktor really wanted that dance.
The omega shivered visibly, the alpha at his side stiffened. Cutting sharp nearly black eyes at him. “And who, exactly, are you. May I ask.” A positively angry scent surrounded them then. Laced with spice and citrus. Beside them the omega dropped his eyes to the floor. Waiting for the alphas to sort this out.
“Who am I?” Viktor’s lips twitch into a small smile. How odd that there were still nobles who didn’t know him. Especially ones at his party. “I am Viktor Andrey Nikiforov. Grand Prince of Russia.”
The alpha’s eyes widened behind his dranonlike mask. Beside him the omega squeaked in surprise, his heavenly scent souring with worry. Viktor frowned down at him. He couldn’t be having that. He wanted a happy omega at his side. With a careful, gentle movement, Viktor reached down and took the omega small hand in his own giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I think I’m entitled to one dance. It is my birthday after all.” Viktor’s voice
Soft brown eyes blinked up at him. After a moment of uncertainty, he was met with the tiniest of smiles and blushing cheeks.
Just perfect.
“I think it’ll be fine, Phichit.” The omegas voice was soft, musical. He sent a quick look to the alpha at his side.
“But, Yuuri,” Phichit began, but his protest to cut off when the omega, Yuuri, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Phichit didn’t seem happy, but he did step back after that. His eyes, like pieces of black glass, never left them as Viktor lead Yuuri onto the centre of the dancefloor.
The music only began after Viktor had placed his hands on Yuuri’s slender waist, and Yuuri settled on his shoulders. The musicians must have been waiting for him to get into position. For which Viktor was thankful. He would get a whole dance to himself. And if he was lucky, many more would follow.
Now that Yuuri was in his arms, he didn’t want to let go. Something in the other’s touch was electric. His smile was still was soft. Just a little nervous. Viktor released just the barest hint of pheromones. His own cocoa and bergamot scent wrapping around them warmly. Yuuri’s cheeks tinted a deeper shade of pink, but his shoulders did relax.
“So, Yuuri, is it?”
Yuuri nods. “Katsuki Yuuri.”
“Japanese?” Viktor mused, he didn’t see many people from Japan. Let alone any sort of noble representative.
“Y-yes….” Yuuri said hesitantly. His eyes lowering once more.
Viktor frowned at his response. For whatever reason Yuuri didn’t want to talk about Japan? Maybe like Viktor he was unhappy in the life that was set before him. Maybe like Viktor his family was pressuring him to court, to mate. The alpha, Phichit, might just his escort for the night. Or maybe he was Yuuri’s intended.
Tightening his grip on Yuuri’s hips Viktor lead them through the dance. Yuuri was light in Viktor’s arms. Graceful on his feet. They spun and moved as one. Perfectly attuned to one another.
Viktor moved the conversation to lighter things. Completmenting Yuuri on a his lovely attire. Their graceful dancing lead to a discussion about traveling in his youth that had Viktor entranced.
Stories of traveling lead to favorite foods, lead to favorite colors. Viktor feared that his heart might not hold up when Yuuri blushed and had to look away after confessing his favorite color matched Viktor’s eyes.
It wasn’t all one sided, no. Viktor told Yuuri about Makkachin. He regaled him with tales of his youth when he would travel to Switzerland to spend summers romping through countryside with Christophe. Back before he presented. Before he had to become the alpha son. The future of his family.
Yuuri brought it all back to him. They spoke and it was as though the meadows stretched around him once more. He could almost feel the sun warmed breeze blowing through his hair, smell the summer flowers, hear the birdsong. Song after song began and ended and they flowed across the polished floor tireless. At one time they must have stepped off the dancefloor. Though Viktor couldn’t have said when.
They were in a secluded part of the garden. Catching their breaths. Seeking solitude. Yuuri’s eyes glittered. Bright. Joyful. His scent was sweet and fresh, tangling with Viktor’s. His skin was silk under Viktor’s fingers. Warm and soft. Yuuri’s lips tasted like champagne and freedom. For the first time in years the worry, the dread, the knot that had been tied around Viktor’s chest unraveled. He could finally breathe.
For the first time in so long. Viktor was alive.