The Moonlit Unity Ball - Open to ALL Werewolves

[Thorian Thalric]

Location: Eboncrest Citadel – The Grand Ballroom
The heart of Blackfrost Dominion, beneath the light of the Moon.

The bells of Eboncrest tolled deep and solemn, a sound that rolled across the frozen tundras, through the Veilwood, and beyond to the farthest corners of Lycanthro Vale.

Tonight, the Citadel stood reborn: its vast stone halls awash in the silver sheen of moonlight, draped in banners bearing the crest of Blackfrost... a wolf crowned by a circlet of stars. Ice crystals glimmered like scattered diamonds along the towering pillars, and the air thrummed with ancient magic, old as the Vale itself.

Before the assembled wolves, gathered from every corner of the realm ... Alphas, Betas, Elders, warriors, healers, and those unmated yet seeking their destined half...  Thorian Thalric stood tall atop the marble dais, the True Alpha's presence undeniable, his frostfire eyes aglow.

A hush fell over the gathering as he raised his hand.

"Hear me, wolves of Lycanthro Vale," his voice rumbled, carrying through the vastness of the Grand Ballroom, laced with power that stirred the very marrow of those present.

"We are scattered no more. Tonight, under the blessing of the Moon, we stand united... not as five divided packs, but as one people."

His gaze swept the room... proud and solemn.

"Darkness rises beyond our borders. Enemies whisper in the winds, seeking to fracture our strength, to tear down what the Goddess herself has built. But we shall not break. We shall dance in defiance. We shall forge bonds that no claw nor curse can sever."

A pause. One filled with reverence.

"Before we begin, I ask you now... let us hold a moment of silence."

The chamber grew still.

"In honor of those lost…Of the valiant, fallen Nightshade Pack, whose lands have grown quiet but whose spirits shall never fade. May their memory guide us, and may their sacrifices bind us more tightly together."

The moment passed like breath on frost. And then...

"From the ashes of that devastation, the Moon has shown me a gift. A light in the dark. A soul destined to stand beside mine."

With deliberate grace, Thorian extended his hand, palm open, and turned toward her... not as a King to a subject, but as a mate to his equal.

"It is my great honor to present to the Vale her new Luna... Queen Emmeral, once of Nightshade, now of Blackfrost and Luna of Frostclaw. My fated. My heart. My strength."

He waited, offering her the moment... to join him, to be seen not just by him, but by all.

"Let the realm see what fate has wrought. And let none doubt the Moon’s will."

The moment swelled with magic, heavy and sacred.

And then, his voice rang out, full and commanding: "Let the Moonlit Unity Ball begin."

Music surged... deep drums and lilting flutes... and the great doors of the Citadel swung wide, flooding the ballroom with wolves from every walk of life.

The future had arrived.

The Moon watches all… and fate waits for no one. 

OOC Notes:

• Feel free to jump into the thread at any time!

• No posting order required.

• Post length is flexible... from quick interactions to longer narrative posts.

• Questions? Contact King Thorian here on Valtheris or in the Valtheris Discord general chat. 

• Locations within the Eboncrest Citadel are in the first post after this opening thread. You can use any location as you partake in this event. 

[Theodora Richards]

As laughter and music drifted from the grand hall, she found solace in the stillness of the Frostgarden, where everything else faded away. The simple act of being together, away from prying eyes, made her heart flutter with a mix of excitement and gratitude. When Nicholas smiled at her, the warmth in his expression made her feel seen, cherished in a way she had longed for. His playful remark about tripping to collect kisses brought a bright laugh to her lips, the sound light and carefree. "I’ll have to keep a close eye on you then," she teased back, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

As he bowed with an exaggerated flourish, her heart danced with joy. "You may indeed have this dance," she replied, placing her hand in his with a sense of anticipation. With a respectful hand at her waist, he drew her close, and Theodora felt her worries melt away. They swayed together beneath the silvered branches, moving in harmony to the distant music. Letting him lead, allowing her gaze to hold. If he decided to lead her to the ballroom she would go knowing she was protected in his embrace.

[Larkspur Silverfang]

Larkspur’s alpha blood called her to the Moonlit Unity Ball, a summons she felt deep within her veins. Yet, despite the pull of tradition and duty, she found herself reluctant to be there. Her status had crumbled, reduced to mere survival due to an alliance that seemed increasingly unlikely. Dante had found a mate in a rogue, and with that, Larkspur was cast down to Omega status—a fate she refused to accept. The rebels who had defected and killed her father, restoring the pack to Dante, had left her feeling like a ghost within her own territory.

Once, she had promised to wed Dante, but now that sneaky little rogue had stepped into the picture, and expectations weighed heavily upon her shoulders. The thought of simply falling in line was anathema to her spirit; her alpha blood would not allow it. She had contemplated fleeing to the wilds, seeking a way to reclaim her pack or perhaps forge a new one entirely. Yet, she knew that showing up at the ball was a necessary move. If she had stayed away, rumors would have spread like wildfire, branding her as the Silverfang Princess who had accepted her place among the omegas.

As she entered the grand hall, Larkspur ensured her mask was firmly in place, concealing her true feelings. The dress she wore was daring, leaving little to the imagination, and she moved through the crowd with a confidence that turned heads. She felt their gazes on her as she walked, refusing to shrink beneath the weight of judgment.

Her attention was drawn to a trio of rogues as they approached, their scents heavy in the air. When one of them easily scared off a younger wolf attempting to assert dominance, Larkspur rolled her eyes, unimpressed. She refused to yield an inch, standing her ground with unwavering pride. Her leg was on display, accentuated by the cut of her dress, while her hands rested defiantly on her hips. She arched her chest forward, embodying a fierce pride that dared anyone to challenge her.

In that moment, she was not just Larkspur, the displaced princess; she was a force to be reckoned with, determined to reclaim her position and assert her strength in a world that sought to diminish her.

[Nicholas Vanguard]

Nicholas’s heart stirred at the sound of her laughter... a bright, melodic sound he wanted to hear more often, something he would protect with every fiber of his being. Her playful threat made him chuckle low in his throat, a warm, rich sound meant only for her. "I'd expect nothing less," he murmured, his hand tightening ever so slightly at her waist as he guided her in a slow turn beneath the arching branches. His wolf purred contentedly at the feel of her so close, their bond strengthening with each easy step. As the distant music wrapped around them, Nicholas leaned in just enough so only she could hear. "If keeping you close is the price I pay for a few bruised toes... I’ll count myself a lucky man."

He let the moment stretch between them, savoring it, before speaking again, his voice soft but certain. "One day, we’ll have a place like this of our own. Somewhere quiet... just for us." His thumb traced slow circles along the back of her hand, grounding them both in the dream he wove aloud. "No need to hide, no eyes watching, just you and me." He smiled down at her, his gaze filled with promises too big for tonight but planted firmly in his heart. If she wanted to return to the ballroom, he'd take her there proudly... but for now, he was content to hold her here, where the world felt simple and right.

[Connor Stormborn]

Connor prowled through the sea of bodies, the rough edges of his presence cutting through the smooth, empty pleasantries exchanged around him. He was in no rush, letting the tension he brought ripple out like a stone hurled into still water. A snide remark here, a pointed glare there... he stirred the pot wherever he could, just enough to keep the Alphas and their pretty little heirs on edge. His hand lazily adjusted the hem of his jacket, thumb brushing over the stitched Black Talon crest on his shoulder. He wore it like armor against the pomp and forced smiles choking the room. Blaze, the wolf within him, prowled under his skin, half-bored, half-agitated by the stale scents and rehearsed dominance plays filling the air.

Until something changed.

A sharp, potent scent cut through the noise like a blade, slamming into Connor’s senses so hard he stalled mid-step. His fingers flexed, curling briefly into fists at his sides. Blaze surged upward with a growl he barely swallowed, and Connor turned his head slightly, scanning the room like a predator catching the first whiff of blood. His wolves, posted near the edges of the crowd, caught the shift in his mood immediately. Connor's voice was low, a rumble of irritation as he tilted his head toward them without looking. "Who the fuck just walked in?" he muttered beneath his breath, eyes narrowing beneath the wolf-steel mask. There was a pause, a flicker of unease, before one of his men, Kai, answered cautiously. "Don’t know yet. Masked." Connor’s jaw ticked, the muscle feathering along his cheek. "Find out." The command dropped heavy and sharp as a blade, and his wolves scattered without another word.

There she was. Moving through the crowd like she owned it, hips swaying in a dress that looked designed to provoke. Connor's jaw tightened as he tracked her movements, each step of hers sparking another low growl from Blaze. She didn’t belong here... not with him. Not like this. His wolf howled against the iron wall of his control, recognizing something Connor wasn’t ready to admit. Mate. The word burned against his instincts like acid. He forced it down, masking the sudden, unwanted hunger that crept into his blood. No. He didn’t want a mate. He didn't need some scheming, fallen princess wrapped in arrogance and desperation to complicate his life. Connor Stormborn chose his path. No fate, no bond, no damn prophecy was going to chain him down. His eyes stayed locked on her as she prowled through the sea of wolves, her pride crackling around her like a second skin. And Connor, standing still as stone, seethed quietly, knowing the chaos had already begun the moment she crossed that threshold.

[Theodora Richards]

Over the past few months, Theodora had observed the stark contrast in the way Nicholas interacted with others compared to how he was with her. It was truly night and day. His low chuckle stirred something deep within her wolf, igniting a warmth that spread through her. With a gentle smirk, she recognized that he had learned to appreciate her—a flower with rough edges who could bloom beautifully when treated with care. As they glided through the dance, she offered him an easy smile, the moonlight catching the glint of her nose ring. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she pressed closer into his embrace as they swayed together. "I’m not sure bruised toes would be worth the pain if they never had a chance to heal," she teased lightly, her voice soft against him.

In that moment, an overwhelming sense of peace washed over her, even knowing that countless wolves were nearby. Her heart swelled at the thought of their envisioned sanctuary. "That sounds like a place we will definitely need, especially when the elders start asking about pups," she sighed, a hint of reality creeping into her thoughts as she acknowledged the expectations she would face as the future Luna. Turning her gaze upward, Theodora let her imagination take flight. "Could our little haven be near a meadow?" she asked softly, her eyes sparkling with possibility. "I would love to watch the wildflowers bloom in the spring." 

[Larkspur Silverfang]

The way Connor sent his wolves to uncover her identity only deepened the smirk on Larkspur’s lips, dripping with satisfaction as she wove through the crowd once more. As she passed, she deliberately brushed against a male wolf, then another, her movements laced with insouciance and flirtation. Each touch was a calculated tease, an assertion of her confidence as she made her way toward him.

As she drew closer, Larkspur locked onto those glacier-blue eyes, her smile morphing into a predatory grin, reminiscent of a snake poised to strike. “Well, if it isn’t Stormborn, trying to ruffle the fur of every wolf in the room. Too bad you aren’t as big and bad as you think,” she taunted, her tongue sliding over her pointed canines. “Though the weak runts will gladly get out of your way... if they’re smart.”

With a daring move, she placed her hand on his emblem, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, her voice low and sultry. “But what happens when the big bad rogue is outsmarted?” Her words purred like a challenge, lingering in the air between them.

Just as swiftly, she withdrew, gliding toward the door that led to the flame circle. She craved warmth and the thrill of the fighting pit, where half-naked males battled for dominance. The thought of choosing one or two to accompany her home sparked excitement, a rebellion against the primal call of her wolf. She refused to be tethered to anyone simply because fate whispered its intentions; she was a free agent, unbound by the stars.

Grinding her teeth in frustration over Dante’s infatuation with the idea of a mate, when she was alpha blood royalty and could have given him strong pups with standing. Yet he chose the little rogue all because it was written with the moon goddess or some shit like that. Larkspur picked up a glass of whiskey as she approached the fighting pit, her gaze shifting to the two males locked in a fierce, not-so-friendly battle. She drank in their raw muscles and power, feeling a familiar stir of desire ignite within her.

[Alicia Blake]

Alicia looked at Reyes seeing the same rigid attitude she had grown accustomed to since Dante had left. A small smile placed on her lips as she sipped her wine looking at her guard "you know technically as your Luna I could command you to enjoy the party" she looked at him knowing she wasn't about to use her status to force him away. With so many unfamiliar people Alicia felt safer with Reyes by her side.

She looked around watching the crowd her calm demeaner not wavering as she keeps an eye out for potential trouble. Even with Reyes for protection she was on edge. Too many unfamiliar people, and she wasn't sure if any of them had loyalties to her old pack, it was putting her on edge. Though she hid her fear, it was something she had become used to from years as a rogue. 

She glanced at Reyes noticing him watching her a small smile making it to her lip "you don't need to watch me so intently, I'm fine" she laughed softly shaking her head slightly "I know crowds aren't my usual thing, but I'm fine" she smiled liking the hint of concern in his gaze. She knew he was following orders, but she had grown to consider him a friend within Dreadspire. She leant back calmly looking down at her glass "have you heard anything from him?" she didn't bother lifting her head knowing it would likely be the same answer as always. Dante had been annoyingly silent through the mindlink since leaving the pack and she was getting tired of it. 

[Nicholas Vanguard]

Nicholas felt the weight of her head against his shoulder and allowed his eyes to briefly close, savoring the moment. The way Theodora fit so naturally against him stirred something deep and instinctual in both man and wolf... a protective ache, an overwhelming sense of rightness. Her teasing remark earned another quiet laugh, one that rumbled softly in his chest. "She always finds a way to keep me on my toes," his wolf mused, and Nicholas couldn’t help but agree. “Don’t worry,” he murmured against her temple, “I heal fast. You’d have to try much harder to scare me off.” He guided them in another slow turn, allowing his hand to briefly skim along the curve of her spine before returning to its proper place. With her in his arms, the murmurs of nearby wolves and the music drifting from the ballroom faded into background noise. In this garden, in this moment, it was just her... and that was more than enough.

Her mention of pups made something in his chest tighten and warm all at once. There it was... that delicate balance between dreaming and duty that came with who they were. He didn’t flinch from it, didn’t shy away. “When that time comes,” he said, his voice low and certain, “we’ll build something real. Not just for show, not because it’s expected... but because we want it. Our way.” Her question about the meadow softened him further, pulling a small smile to his lips. “A meadow it is,” he whispered. “With wildflowers that never stop blooming. Maybe a little stream nearby, too. Somewhere quiet enough to hear your laughter echo through the trees.” He pulled back just slightly to meet her gaze, brushing a knuckle tenderly along her jaw. “You pick the place, Teddy. I’ll make it ours.”

[Connor Stormborn]

Connor didn’t budge when the she-wolf brushed past him like temptation wrapped in silk, but Blaze wasn’t having it. His wolf snarled and coiled tight beneath his skin, pressing against the cage of his ribs like it was moments from breaking free. Mine. The word pulsed in his chest, unwanted and unyielding. Connor’s eyes followed her, cold and sharp, tracking the way she weaved through the crowd, leaving flustered males in her wake like they were nothing more than pawns on a board she’d already claimed. His expression never shifted, but the tension in his stance said enough... this wasn’t just some flirtatious stunt. She was sending a message.

And then she came to him, venom wrapped in honey. Her words dripped like sweet poison, her touch bold as she pressed her hand to his crest... his mark, his colors. Blaze growled so loud in his mind it was nearly deafening, but Connor stood rooted, unmoving. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Just a cool, dangerous smirk that curved his lips like the edge of a blade. She whispered a challenge in his ear and slipped away just as easily, strutting toward the flame circle like she hadn’t just lit a match at his feet. He let her walk, for now. But his gaze never left her. Not even for a second.

A voice crackled through the mindlink a moment later. “Name’s Larkspur. She was Alpha-blood. Her father ruled Dreadspire before he lost the war. She’s Omega now… guess she didn’t take the fall too well.” Connor’s jaw ticked as he processed it. Alpha-born, demoted, walking like the crown still fit... and gods, did it look like it did. Blaze clawed at his insides again, demanding he go after her, claim her. But Connor wasn’t a man who followed instinct blindly. He moved slowly around the edge of the ballroom, keeping close to the shadows and closer to her path. If she thought she was going to stir the pot and walk away untouched, she clearly didn’t know whose party she’d walked into. She might have been demoted in Dreadspire... but here? She’d just caught the attention of the wrong Alpha.

[Dante Morales]

Reyes didn’t flinch at her teasing command, though the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly... the closest he’d come to a smile since they arrived. “You could,” he murmured, voice low beneath the music, “but you won’t.” Not because she wasn’t capable of giving the order... she wore the Luna’s presence like a quiet mantle even masked...  but because Alicia knew him too well. She knew that Reyes had no interest in wine, dance, or idle courtly chatter. His focus was singular: keep her safe until Dante returned. And still, despite the steel of his duty, Reyes couldn’t ignore the flicker of warmth in his chest that came from her words. The way she trusted him enough to say she felt safer with him there. It meant more than she likely realized.

His gaze scanned the crowd once more, noting a pair of sharp-eyed wolves lingering too long near the outer columns...  a nod to his men had them moving in that direction without hesitation. Only when he was satisfied did Reyes glance back to Alicia. He studied her carefully, the way her spine remained straight, her expression calm… but he saw past it. He had seen her wary glances, the slight tightness in her grip on the glass, the edge beneath the stillness. She masked her discomfort well, but Reyes knew the signs. She’d lived too long in survival mode, and no number of chandeliers or royal declarations would undo that overnight. “Fine,” he echoed quietly, almost to himself, though there was no mockery in the word...  only understanding.

The question came, and he didn’t need to look at her to know the answer mattered more than she let on. Reyes exhaled, slow and steady, his voice low. “Nothing.” His jaw tensed as he added, “No word. No pulse through the link. Just silence.” It burned him more than he let show ... he was Dante’s right hand, his scout, his damn second when it came to matters of protection...  and yet he had been left in the dark. “Wherever he is, he’s burying the trail deep.” He finally looked at her, the flicker of concern plain behind his mask. “But he told me to keep you safe. So until he walks through those doors, I’m not taking my eyes off you.”

[Alicia Blake]

Alicia looked at Reyes laughing softly as he confidently stated she wouldn't force him to socialise. She knew he was right, even if she had felt safe she wouldn't command him to leave her side. Even if she could keep him out of trouble with Dante, she knew he was just as out of place at this party as she was. She looked down at her wine glass letting out a soft sigh as he gave her the answer she already knew Nothing that's all any of them had heard from Dante since the night he left Dreadspire. 

A smile played on his lips as he swore to keep her safe "he worries far too much, I survived without a guard in the wilds, I can survive a silly party" she laughed softly looking at Reyes "though I am grateful for your company, I might not be in danger here, but I certainly wasn't built for events" 

She had been raised a fighter, never expected to attend anything that wasn't meant for the whole pack. So a party full of werewolf elite was the last place she ever planned on ending up. She leant back against the wall as she finished her glass placing it on a nearby table before turning to Reyes again "you look just as out of place here as I do" she elbowed him playfully noticing he was watching some men in the distance "is there a reason you find them suspicious or are we just not trusting anyone?" she knew he would likely keep her in the dark so she wouldn't worry, but she hated the thought of that, she wanted to be involved with whatever was happening. If anything it was a way to distract herself from worrying about Dante, and the panic of being in a crowd. 

[Dante Morales]

Reyes let her laughter wash over him like rain against stone... something he didn’t quite know how to react to, but didn’t mind hearing. Alicia had that effect: always balancing sharpness with softness. He didn’t respond to her comment about surviving without guards; he knew better than most what she'd endured. But this wasn't the wilds. This was politics dressed in silver and silk, and Reyes trusted those wolves even less than he did a blade in the dark. Still, he offered a quiet grunt of agreement as she leaned against the wall beside him. “You weren’t built for this,” he said at last, “but you carry it better than most of them.” That was as close to a compliment as he'd given anyone all night.

At her playful elbow, he let out a short breath... not quite a laugh, but something close. “We’re not trusting anyone,” he confirmed, eyes still on the pair by the columns. “The one in green has been tracking you with his eyes since you walked in. The other hasn’t stopped scanning the room like he’s waiting for a signal.” His tone was calm, observational, but his fingers flexed slightly near the edge of his coat where his blade rested hidden. “Could be nothing. Could be something.” He looked at her, and for a beat, his gaze softened. “But if it is, I’d rather be ready.”

Then, sharp and clear, the mind-link snapped open. A flash of relief flickered through Reyes’s chest before the weight of Dante’s presence settled in like iron.

“Reyes,” Dante’s voice was rough, strained. “I’m en route. Should be there before the moon's peak.” "Finally." Reyes didn’t speak aloud, just sent the thought across the link. “You’re late.” 
"Had a delay. Took a blade in the side. Deep. Healing’s slow.” That made Reyes tense... not visibly, but internally, like a coiled spring.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough. Don’t tell her. She doesn’t need that weight on her shoulders tonight.”

Reyes clenched his jaw. He didn’t like it... hiding things from Alicia never sat right with him... but Dante’s orders weren’t given lightly. He exhaled and turned back to her, voice steady. “He’s on his way. Should be here soon.” He didn’t add the rest. She didn’t need to know. Not now. Reyes let himself look at her for a moment longer before returning his gaze to the room, senses sharpened all over again. If anything even hinted at a threat before Dante arrived, they’d regret ever stepping foot in Eboncrest.