The celebrations carried on late into the night and people only began clearing out once the alcohol ran out. Staff from both clans worked together to playfully shoo away some of the stragglers with brooms and cleaning supplies, while others tried - in vain, to silence the merry drunken choruses being slurred out by the more inebriated ones. There were happy and liquored up warriors staggering about the various corners of the camp trying to make their way back to their tents, while those who had lost the battle with consciousness had found a comfortable grassy corner to lay down in.

At the moment, a rather giggly elven princess was clumsily being escorted to her tent by a slightly less drunken ninja woman. Their uncoordinated steps caused them to veer off course and stumble more than once and were slowing their process down quite a bit. Mila smiled lopsidedly as she stared up at the sky, the stars teasing her eyes with their blurry sparkling. She couldn't remember the last time if any, that she had actually gotten drunk. Her elven genetics were designed to help her filter out alcohol much faster than most other races, yet here she was, utterly beaten and outdone by a mere human woman. The stormy-eyed Shinobi had drunk her under the table, over the table, and even around the table. She had been utterly decimated by what the phoenix clan called 'sake', a delicious but rather deceptively potent brew she had never encountered before, and which had wreaked havoc on her system. She felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside, while her outside scorched wherever it was in contact with the phoenix clan warrior.

"Akage Hime, we'll never get you back to your tent if you insist on staring up at the stars instead of walking."

Mila lowered her eyes and turned her head slowly to stare at the woman currently supporting her weight. When she opened her mouth to speak, a squeaky hiccup came flying out instead of the words she'd intended to say. Her eyes widened comically for a split second before she burst into uncontrollable laughter. When she laughed so hard that she snorted, it further fueled her fit. Minako shook her head and clucked her tongue at the drunken hot mess laughing hysterically in her arms. The princess was such a free spirit; bold, independent and always willing to speak her mind. It was refreshing to see such behavior from a royal, for usually, it was all bureaucracy and stiff protocols. She was enamored by the princess' stunning sapphire blue eyes, and how they shone with mischief and how her blood-red hair shone in the moonlight. What really drew her in, however, was the woman's mind. She swore it had to be just about as filthy, if not more, than her own. Their drunken banter had slowly descended into the pits of debauchery with each emptied glass of sake. Once she'd recovered enough from her giggling fit, the princess was finally able to speak.

"But the night is so preeeeeeeetty! Loooooooook, even the stars are dancing!"

Mila pulled away from the Shinobi and began twirling awkwardly under the glittering luster of the moonbeams. Given her drunken and uncoordinated state, however, it didn't take long for her to become disoriented and begin to fall. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact, but it never came. A strong arm had snaked around her waist gently, holding her in place and keeping her from toppling over. Mila looked up at the silvery orbs now directly in front of her face and gasped as she marveled at their beauty and intensity from up close. There were several varying tones of silver mixed in together, speckling in layers to create hypnotic swirls of gray.

Mila's gaze dipped lower and settled on the woman's plump and slightly parted dusky lips. Her throat suddenly went dry and she licked her lips to moisten them, not failing to notice how the Shinobi's eyes fixedly followed the movement. A slight breeze brushed past them and she caught wind of something heavenly. The foreign warrior's chocolate-colored tresses smelled of wild jasmine, an intoxicating scent that she'd only caught passing whiffs of during the night, but was now able to smell quite clearly. It was a provocative and exhilarating scent, and it went straight to her head. A warm hand was splayed on her lower back and Mila felt so much heat radiating from it that she could have sworn that it was burning a hole in her flesh. Heat pooled between her legs and butterflies fluttered wildly in her stomach. A strong impulse took hold and she began to lean forward.

Instead of a kiss, however, the flame-haired princess suddenly found herself pressed up intimately against a wooden cart, her wrists gripped firmly by the Shinobi's hands and her arms pinned to her sides. Somewhat surprised and caught off-guard by the abrupt turn of events, she opened her eyes to look at the woman and ask her what the hell was going on. She was utterly unprepared for the look of pure lust and desire reflected in the woman's visage. When the ninja warrior spoke, her voice was low and husky.

"You are very tempting, princess. It has taken every ounce of my self-control to hold back from ravaging you. Make no mistake, my desire for you burns hotter than the flames that color your hair. I want nothing more than to kiss those pretty little lips of yours senseless, but I refuse to take advantage of someone in an inebriated state."

The Phoenix Clan warrior released her wrists and stepped backward and away from her. She bowed deeply toward the princess and winked cheekily at her before turning to walk away.

"You're at your tent now, princess. Please take care and have a good night."

Mila watched the Shinobi walk away, feeling more hot and bothered than she'd ever felt before in her entire life.

King Nikiforov was feeling angry, annoyed, and severely frustrated. He had tried all evening to get through to Yuuri and find out what was going on with him, but the man had staunchly refused to engage him in any of the conversations he'd tried to have with him and had instead babbled on incessantly about politics and other such nonsense. Gods, he's so damn stubborn! How is he so damn obstinate?! He had taken his frustrations out on his food during dinner, stabbing at and cutting the meat with overzealous gusto, all while trying to keep a fake smile plastered to his face and not let on that there was anything wrong. Later on, his tactics had moved on to alcoholic torture. He had lost track of exactly how many toasts he had actually proposed, but he'd made damn sure that he and Yuuri both drained their glasses as quickly and as often as possible. He'd had a front-row seat to the Emperor's fall into drunkenness and had been feeling pretty good about himself until he noticed the Orientalis leader reaching for the ties to his robe. He leaned in close and uttered a whispered hiss into the man's ear.

"Yuuri! What are you doing?"

The Phoenix Clan leader smiled goofily at him and hiccupped a couple of times before replying.

"I find myself…currently feeling…too hot for these garments."

Sweet gods! The man was trying to remove his clothes at the table! As upset as he was with Yuuri, the King did not wish to see such a good man embarrass himself in front of his subjects and foreign guests.

He had immediately stood up and excused himself from the table, stating that he and the Emperor would be having a private word before retiring to their respective tents for the night. He had pulled the Emperor up with him and half-dragged him to a quiet and secluded corner. He clucked his tongue in annoyance as he spied the man actively reaching for the ties to his robe yet again.

"Yuuri, get a hold of yourself! If you're too hot, just wait until you're back at your tent to disrobe."

The Emperor's brows furrowed together and his lips pinched together in a petulant little pout that the King still managed to find incredibly endearing, regardless of the circumstances at hand.

"Fiiiiiiiiine. I guess…I'll use…my fans!"

The Emperor reached into his obi and pulled out the two decorative fans he'd had tucked away in them. As he began fanning himself, loose tendrils of his silken locks began swaying in the breeze and wafting a musky-sweet scent in the King's direction. In an instant, the scent was recognized and he was flooded with a barrage of memories and nostalgia. His heart lurched painfully in his chest and his eyes widened in recognition. He knew that scent better than anyone. Orientalis wisteria had been his mother's favorite flower and she'd always incorporated a cluster or two into her hairstyle every day. The lilac-colored petals were elegantly soft and beautiful against his mother's lustrous silver hair. It had been her signature scent, and many at the castle had said that you could always smell the queen before you saw her. His eyes began to fill with tears and he brought a hand up to his mouth to stifle a sob.

The Emperor was on him a second, a warm and comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Viktor, Viktor…what's wrong?"

Overcome with emotion, the King could only shake his head as he tried to keep himself from falling apart.

"I know…I know what to do! Whenever I'm sad, I dance. I'll dance for you!"

The Emperor placed a finger under the King's chin and tilted it up so that their eyes met.

"Watch me and only me. Don't take your eyes off me."

The Emperor shuffled off to an area with a flattened patch of grass, leaving the King feeling also suddenly too hot for garments. The Emperor slowly lowered himself onto his knees, and bowed down until his forehead was resting on the back of his hands down on the ground in front of him. As he lifted his head and straightened his back, he reached for the closed fan that had been placed in front of him. He did so while pulling his sleeves back gracefully, his movements smooth and fluid. He nimbly stood up and began walking slowly forward, his knees still bent and the unopened fan in his right hand. When the fan was opened in a smooth and delicate movement of the arm, the King was mesmerized. What followed was an absolutely stunning sequence of arm movements and fan flourishes that were so captivating that the King would not be able to tear his eyes away even if he tried. There was no music in the air, but the Emperor danced as if there was. The King did not need to hear music, for the Emperor's body was making its own as he danced.

The King had never seen such dancing before and assumed that it must be something unique to Orientalis. The dances from Occidentis were beautiful in their own way, but there was something especially ethereal and serene about the dance he was currently witnessing. When the Emperor finally stilled, the King brought his hands together and clapped softly for the dazzling performance.

"Yuuri! That was beautiful!"

The Emperor began to walk over to him, but stumbled on his robes and swayed dangerously on his feet. The King was instantly by his side, a steadying hand on the man's lower back.

"Wooaaah, why is…everything spinning? Stop moving…around so much…Viktor."

The King chuckled, not failing to notice that with his guard down, the Emperor had resorted to calling him by his first name once more.

"I'm not moving around, Yuuri. You're drunk."

The Emperor swayed on his feet a bit more and smiled.

"Yes, that…sounds about…right."

The ruler of Orientalis brought a hand up and tapped the Emperor's nose with his index finger.

"I may…be drunk, but you're not...sad anymore."

The King smiled warmly at the Emperor and gazed down upon him with soft eyes.

"You are correct, thank you. Your beautiful dancing expertly dispelled all my sadness."

The Emperor leaned in and wrapped his arms around the King's waist, resting his head on the man's chest before giving him a tight squeeze. When he spoke, his voice was slightly muffled and came out as nearly-incoherent mumbling.

"I would gladly spend an eternity dispelling your sadness, Viktor."

The King tilted his head and lowered it in an effort to hear things a bit better.

"What's that, Yuuri?"

The Emperor's head suddenly shot up and, fueled by alcohol, boldly and brazenly declared his thoughts to the King.

"Be my consort, Viktorrrrrrr!"

The King's eyes grew so wide in his head that he feared for a moment that they would pop out of his skull. Had he just heard correctly? Were his ears deceiving him and playing tricks on his mind? Before he could formulate a reply, however, the Emperor was pulled forcefully away from him. When the King looked up, he saw the Ninja warrior woman gripping the Emperor firmly by one of his ears and shaking her head disapprovingly at her catch.

"Please forgive the Emperor's unbecoming behavior tonight, Your Majesty. He's never been able to hold his liquor and turns into a clingy octopus whenever he's had too much to drink. A rather unsavory trait passed down from his father, I'm afraid."

The King ran his hands over his clothing and pretended to be straightening out his jacket for a few seconds before clearing his throat and addressing the warrior woman.

*Ahem*

"Ah, it's no trouble at all, Lady Okukawa. I was just trying to get him back to his tent when he became a bit unsteady on his feet."

The warrior woman tipped her head in his direction and smiled. She also appeared to be hindered by drink, but still had her wits and coordination about her.

"You are very honorable, Your Majesty. I thank you for all your efforts tonight. I shall henceforth take charge of the care of Emperor Katsuki and ensure his safe and expedient return to his tent."

The King didn't want to cause trouble, so he just nodded and dipped his head toward the woman. She bowed deeply in return and then walked off, dragging a loudly plaintive Emperor behind her. Confused, and still unsure as to what exactly had happened, the King stumbled off to his own tent and settled in for the night.

Not many hours later, just before sunrise, the camp erupted into a flurry of uproarious panic. General Altin burst into the King's tent around the same time that Yuuko burst into the Emperor's. They had just received news from their respective kingdoms; a huge demon navy was on its way from both sides and would be converging on their island in a few days' time. The Demon King had heard that the two leaders were on the island together and had decided to act. He knew that they were vulnerable as neither leader had their army with them, and were woefully underprepared for a massive battle. The Demon King could not have dreamed of a more perfect opportunity to take out both of the thorns in his side in one fell swoop. He salivated at the thought of consuming the souls of both the Ice Dragon and the Phoenix. He would become the most powerful demon on Earth and no one, human or God, would be able to stop him. As his fleet set out from the harbor, he rubbed his hands eagerly in anticipation. He would gloriously snuff out both of their lives and end humanity's hope with his own claws.

_extra information_

Yuuri's Dance.