#yoiroyaltyweek

Hello, Anon!

First of all, we’re sorry it took us this long to reply. It says here you sent this a month ago, but Tumblr only alerted us to this message a couple of days ago??? Sorry about that!

Unfortunately, we don’t have any plans to hold it again, due to everyone’s fandom and irl commitments. We loved holding it, though, and are glad that others loved participating as well!

Eros straightens his shoulders and takes a dainty sip of champagne from the flute he holds. The mask he’s chosen is black, covered in beads that glitter like starlight, with blood-red trim around the bottom and flame-shaped accents across the top. His suit is equally beautiful, cut in at the waist in a frankly scandalous fashion and also trimmed in the same shade of red. The ballroom is a whirlwind of colours as men and women dance in perfect time, dressed in their absolute finest. If he relaxes his eyes, Eros finds that the entire room blurs into a stunning shifting mass of colour and light—a hypnotic, seductive invitation to abandon identity and embrace the unknown.

He takes another sip of champagne and refocuses his vision on a single dancer, dressed in a rich burgundy suit trimmed in pink and gold. Even with his matching mask, the man’s identity is as unmistakable as the white-blonde shock of his hair and the intense blue of his eyes: Prince Yuri Plisetsky, nineteen years old and heir to the royal throne. He’s taller than Eros thought he would be, but this is the first and last night that he’ll ever have to see the man, so it’s no matter.

Eros curls his fingers inward towards his wrist, gently stroking the tip of the blade that’s strapped to his forearm.

It’s a shame to ruin that suit, he thinks, but the colour will help conceal the blood for a little while.

The waltz ends, depositing Yuri and his current partner directly in front of the drinks table. Eros picks up a second champagne flute, this one full, and watches for the moment when Yuri, still distracted laughing at something his companion has said, goes to reach for the table. Instead, Eros steps in, quiet like a cat, and places the glass into the Prince’s hand.

“I—oh!” Yuri starts. “Thank you.”

Eros allows himself a small smile. “You are most welcome,” he purrs, biting back a rush of glee when he sees Yuri’s eyes widen at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Yuri says, placing the still-full champagne back onto the table.

“You can call me Eros,” he says, his voice thick and rich like velvet.

Yuri doesn’t try to introduce himself; instead he looks Eros up and down, icy blue eyes and pale skin stark against the warm tones of his costume. Finally he holds out his hand, just as the musicians strike up another waltz.

“May I have this dance, Eros?”

Eros smirks. “Of course,” he replies, and as Yuri sweeps him out to the dance floor and curls an arm around his waist he flicks his wrist, sliding his blade into his hand and then back to its holder, waiting for the right moment.

It’s all very, very simple. Eros just has to murder the crown prince tonight.

But they can do a few rounds of the ballroom first; it’s important to keep up appearances, to move in plain sight, to fit as a puzzle piece among all the other pieces settling into place. Eros relaxes into Yuri’s arms, letting himself be swept around and around, steps landing in perfect time with the prince’s own. They are a pair—a devil and an angel, in more ways than one.

Yuri leans in, his breath tickling Eros’ ear. “You are stunning,” he murmurs. “How is it that I’ve never noticed you before?”

Eros smiles, his practiced answer flowing easily from his lips. “I’m the nephew of Lady Okukawa,” he replies. “Just visiting to settle the matters of her estate.” The prince has a reputation for being curt with new people, but so far he isn’t living up to it.

Yuri hums. “Such a tragedy, for her to die so young,” he says, and Eros has to agree; it was indeed a shame that the Lady Okukawa perished as she did, stricken by a fever before her fortieth birthday, but it left a very convenient opportunity for Eros to situate himself within the trappings of Plisetsky’s court.

Now Yuri leans even closer. “I feel I should be honest,” he whispers, his voice filled with something that hints at darker pleasures and makes Eros’ eyes momentarily roll back in his head. The Prince must be in an incredibly good mood, to be flirting so shamelessly.

“That is your right, Your Highness.”

“It is,” Yuri agrees, spinning Eros out and then pulling him back in, his hand landing square at the base of Eros’ spine, yanking him in until they’re chest to chest, scandalously pressed against each other even as they don’t miss a single step of the waltz. “So I should tell you that I know you’re not Lady Okukawa’s nephew, and I also know you have a knife strapped to your back.”

Eros’ eyes fly open, and he nearly trips over his own feet, but Yuri is there to stabilize him.

“Interesting,” he eventually replies, because it is. “How did you come to this piece of information?”

And that’s when Eros feels the unmistakable pressure of a knife’s tip, held in the space between two ribs. His breath hitches, and he looks up into those blue eyes glittering with amusement, and he remembers far too late that the Crown Prince’s eyes are green.

Author: thehobbem

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov

Additional Tags: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Drama & Romance, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Sissi AU, Alternate History

Chapters: 1 / 2

Word Count: 6.8K

Summary: With an engagement arranged behind his back, Emperor Victor only wishes to have one last day for himself as a free man. But the last thing he will be is free, once he meets someone who seems to have the exact same plans, and perhaps motivations, for today.

“Um. Excuse me, sir, but I believe those are my clothes you’re holding.”

Victor turned around, jaw going immediately slack of its volition, fingers gripping the clothes that much more tightly.

The man in front of him was dripping wet from head to toe, wearing nothing but riding pants and a white undershirt — one that was entirely soaked and entirely see-through, mercilessly clinging to the man’s torso. It made sense, really, as it was a nice torso. A very nice torso. Victor could see all of it through the shirt. As someone who’d always had all he asked for, Victor had never had the chance to wish for anything, but there it was. He now wished he could trade places with a certain piece of fabric, of all things.

A ficlet from my Swan Lake/Omegaverse/Crossdressing AU 

For @yoiroyaltyweek, Day 1: Balls and Masquerades 

Summary:

Yuuri recognizes him instantly.

Lights shimmer on silver hair, the warmth in his eyes dancing bright and blue behind a feathered mask. He’s dressed in full regalia—black and pink with gold trimmings and dark fur lining his shoulders—looking every inch the prince he claims to be. Whispers of who is that and oh how handsome ripple through the crowd, the men turning to him with an edge to their stares, the women smiling coyly behind their fans.

A hush falls over the ballroom as he strides up to Yuuri. Falls to one knee and presses a kiss to Yuuri’s hand.

“My runaway prince,” Viktor whispers.

Day 4 (free: military attire) for @yoiroyaltyweek

This was playing with clothes, so don’t hope for accuracy please x_x

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Rewrite the Stars, a fic by @omgkatsudonplease​ 

In his time as an officially-licensed companion with the Interplanetary Companionship Union, Yuuri Katsuki has witnessed so many extraordinary adventures and sights. From the death of a distant star in the Paulsen system to the kaleidoscope towers of the ancient city of Hayak, the galaxy bursts forth in boundless opportunities and immense beauty for him and the crews he accompanies.

But nothing in the galaxy can ever compare to a fateful meeting at the Armistice Ball with the Crown Prince of Neva, Viktor Nikiforov.

(Space Royalty AU ficlet series written for Royalty Week)

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