Lunar Romances (A Yuri!!! On Ice Werewolf AU)

Panic In the Ballroom

At first glance the Nikiforov castle could be mistaken for Heaven's stairwell, chandeliers so radiant in the twilight of the night the shine could make even the most humblest of angels jealous. Inside the makings of a party were obvious, with loud music, myriads of chatter and the bold and outlandish décor that draped itself across every pillar, wall and table. Merrily drunk voices sang and conversed in the warm glow, attending nobles watched with with flickering curiosity as their eyes landed on one dance partner to the next, superficially basing their talents on how tight their corsets weaved around their waists and so on, waiting for the perfect maiden or suitor to mysteriously arise from this crowd of nobodies, ready and waiting for their hand and their hand alone, but the night proved difficult with the standard plain faced gentlemen and ladies in waiting and so they drank on from the shadows of the ballroom uninterested.

However no eyes fell upon the striking head of silver, not even a wayward glance, for they knew better. Her crown sent nobles gazes to the floor; they knew she was above whatever standards they had surmised for the rest of the court, both in status and refined charm. It did not help that she was taken, as the ring matching her hair suggested as much and no noble would dare face the fury of their King. But tonight the silverette seemed disturbed, robbed of her natural practiced elegance and poise. She fidgets and stews and her usual composure fails her in this moment and not even a binge of wine flutes could calm her down. Her dress is scrunched tightly underneath her hands and her fingers resisted any attempts she made to keep them still. No one acknowledged her panic though, knowing better. Interrupt a lady in a frenzy and you were asking to be banished from the Kingdom, they were smarter than to challenge that disaster unless they really were that dense. Everyone in their right of mind could see she was teetering on the edge of insanity, her chipped and disfigured nails being eaten away by chattering teeth and her hastily fraying hair. She was a complete mess and anyone with half a brain could understand why.

Almost twenty minutes into his Lunar Ball and Prince Nikiforov still had yet to make an appearance.

With the polished blue of her nails now completely disfigured and cracked the irrationally charged beauty quickly decides to stop herself before she breaches the skin and knits both her hands together, her thumbs silently playing war with one another as the crystal blue hue of her eyes dart back and forth between the individuals in the crowd of dancers, searching desperately for the other. Her crown slips down her hair and she quickly grabs for it, her sweaty palms reclipping the slippery bobby pins back in place before snapping back to her front. She was right flush, pink as her lipstick, maybe more so and her scalp itches like wildfire, someone dropping a match of flame and lice perfectly center of her whorl. The urge was maddening to say the least, but she could not afford to look anymore a fool in front of her people like this, especially not on a night such as this, but one guest was making that all the more difficult the longer she was subjected to standing in the dim-light of the mezzanines.

If only he'd get here faster! She pleads in the back of her mind as her thoughts spiral into a literal chaotic hurricane. And- "AH!"

Golden brimmed alcohol splashes to the carpet, her shoes now laying all but abandoned on the floor, socked feet free, as she feels her stomach riot within her at the sudden weightlessness she feels when two giant hands grab her from behind. Hearty chuckles all but ring in her ears with not an ounce of mercy for her poor beating heart as she's spun and tossed around like a doll.

"Ivan!" She quickly scolds, but the laughter doesn't subside to her annoyance.

She's spun into the air one last time before being caught in firm open arms, princess style, her face suddenly being cradled by large, but surprisingly delicate fingers that trace her jawline just so. A wide toothy smile that to anyone else, but her would be utterly terrifying, bared nothing, but the simplest inflections of adoration as affectionate pecks were sprinkled upon her cheeks. The unbearable reek of Yarpivo follows unfortunately, but it was a decent price to pay for the quelling of her bubbling anxiety. The fellow laughs heartily once again, his voice hiccupping from the liquor in hand, maybe just a bit too tipsy to care about the world around him, but still not stumbling drunk which is more than she can ask of him for tonight, thankfully. He weaves an arm around her waist, lowering her back to the floor and kisses her pale neck more than indecently. She doesn't know whether to slap him or to slap him.