A/N: I don't own Yuri! on Ice or Beauty and the Beast. I have no Beta sorry!

The scene playing before crowned Prince Victor Nikiforov's ocean blue eyes was one he had become accustomed to in his privileged life. He occupied his large silver throne, body slumped elegantly across it, legs crossed and one elbow perched on the thrones arm. He was dressed in his best new silver court suit, completed with a beautiful silver silk waistcoat detailed with delicate gold designs. His gold crown adorned his beautiful, angular face, his waist length platinum silver hair clashing beautifully with it. Men and women of high Nobel status twirled around the dance floor of the glittering ballroom, fingers brushing against fingers and lightly touching each others waists. They were dressed in their best as well, large ballroom gowns and court suits sewn with beautiful designs and colours, the beauty of the clothing matching the aristocrats wearing them. Their faces were powdered to the lightest shade they could get, lips red and eyes rimmed delicately with black liner. Large, ornate golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the flickering of hundreds of candles making the room and clothing sparkle in delight. A beautiful white piano played to Victors left, the maestro playing a delicate tune with skillful fingers. Other musicians playing harps and violins added to the wonderful orchestrated music of the room.

Victor's younger brother, Yuri, stood next to his tutor, Mila Babicheva, a stern but loving young woman who cared greatly for the younger prince. She was the guardian of Yuri's education, activities and best tea maker the castle had ever known. Yuri, was a handful at the best of times and downright terrible at the worst, he was very moody at seventeen but Mila noticed how his back straightened, his voice became more gentle and his gaze was more focused when the maestro entered the room. Otabek Altin was a stoic man, and a master of the piano at only nineteen. Mila had noticed the way they stared at each other from across the room when they thought no one was looking and how stiff Yuri sat on the piano bench beside him during lessons, almost afraid to touch him.

Servants scurried to and from the kitchen, bringing food and wine on large serving trays, well trained to be beyond polite and move quietly. Christophe, the maitre d', orchestrated the servants in fluid movements, making quick and quiet motions to make sure the food and drink moved smoothly between guests. Georgi, the majordomo, was an excellent if not dramatic man who greeted and announced the guests as they arrived and attempted to keep Victor in check. Most of the servants in the castle had been with Victor since he was a young child, growing along beside him as their parents had served his now deceased mother and father. Victor was never outright cruel to any of them, but laughter died from their lips, replaced with a sense of focused urgency, when he entered a room.

Victor's party was moving smoothly, as they always did. A light smile touched his lips, his eyes taking in the extravagant décor that was just his taste. The townspeople paid for everything with their taxes and Victor made sure to use the gold to make his palace reflect their non optional payment. He knew that the people of the village called him, he knew the distaste that they had for him. But Victor was the crowned prince, future king to Hasetsu, The Ice Prince. He could, and did, do anything he wanted. Standing suddenly, he let his long legs dance his way through the crowd of lords and ladies, joining several duos for a quick twirl here and there. This is where he belonged, this is how he lived, elegant, graceful, beautiful and rich.

Suddenly a crack of thunder was heard, and lightning flashed across the paned glass windows of the balcony in the ballroom. Most of the occupants jumped slightly at the noise before slight chuckles moved out of their mouths at the foolishness of being scared by something so natural.

A knock sounded three times from the large oak doors at the front of the castle, directly across the ballroom, before being blown open by a violent wind. Rain splattered down hard into the interior of the marble floors as leaves and debris flew into the castle. Georgi, shocked by the sudden intrusion, began pushing the doors closed by the wind proved to be too hard. The aristocrats moved farther into the ballroom as the water and debris began to fly harder into the castle, almost reaching the ballroom doors. The music and dancing had stopped completely. Victor, displeased that his party was being interrupted by wind for gods sake, marched forward ready to yell at Georgi to get the doors shut immediately.

The words died from his lips as a figure hobbled through the door and into view. She was absolutely haggard and disgustingly ugly, wearing a tattered black robe, her stringy grey hair sweeping down her face. Her face was mired by wrinkles, eyes narrowed and dark, nose hooked and mouth set in a thin line. Georgi managed to push the door shut as soon as she crossed the threshold of the castle door.

"Excuse me! Ma'am you need to lea-"

Georgi was cut off by the old woman who had raised a hand to silence him. He spluttered in indignation but otherwise remained quiet. The woman turned fully to the prince, bowing lower from her already slouched form.

"Your excellence, the crowned Prince, I humbly ask as a poor peasant woman, for permission to seek shelter in the castle tonight. I do not need much, but the bitter cold and rain is too much for my old and weak bones."

Her voice was quiet and sounded harsh against her throat as if she hadn't spoken in years. Regardless, her tone was respectful to the prince, her request simple and well meaning. Victor's face scrunched up in an expression of disgust before scoffing and laughing in the woman's face.

"You wish to stay here? In my castle? I think not, only the beautiful have a place here."

All around him, the high lords and ladies laughed along with him, a few of them letting less than appropriate remarks coming from their mouths. The servants looked on somberly, not smiling at the events but not helping the lady, letting their master make his own decision.

"Please your lordship, I can offer something in return," the old woman reached into her tattered robe with a gnarled hand and produced a beautiful white lily. The six petals were a flawless, almost glowing, white and in perfect condition considering they had been hidden away in clothing.

Victor leaned forward and plucked the lily from her hands, looking it over and gently touching the leaves. A sneer suddenly crossed his face and he threw the lily down at the woman's feet.

"This is what you offer me? A flower for the prince?" Victor turned his back to her and looked at his guests with a look of disbelief across his face. The guests laughed harder at the woman's idea of an offer. The woman scrambled forward and picked the lily up with gentle hands.

"Please Prince Victor, I am only asking for a dry place to sleep. I caution you to not make a hasty decision based on appearance sir, for beauty is found within."

"Leave at once," Victor snarled, his blue eyes turning cold. Turning back to her and raising his hand he motioned towards the door, "Georgi, get her out of here." He turned his back to her completely, taking a few steps towards to ballroom to begin the party again.

Georgi rushed forward, ready to grab the woman to escort her out when a bright light shone from her hood. The light extended to each of her sleeves and the bottom of the robe, getting brighter by the second. Georgi stumbled back at the sudden change of events transpiring before him and everyone else in the castle. Startled gasps drew Victors attention and he swiftly turned around, eyes widening in shock as the old woman's figure started to rise, enveloped by blinding light.

"You are a selfish man, Victor Nikiforov. A selfish man who prizes beauty and wealth over kindness and even the lively hood of your subjects."

The voice was different, more smooth and like stars twinkling in the night sky if they ever had a sound. The women's robe fell away and a beautiful being of light stood before him, her skin holding no colour, only a brightness that blinded him from looking right at her. Her wrinkled and gnarled features had melted away to reveal a face of pure beauty. Victor gasped in shock as she raised her arms up, making a sweeping gesture across the castle hall. Immediately the castle began to shake and the guests began to panic and scream, fleeing the ballroom and making exits wherever they could.

Victor fell back on his hands as the castle shook again and ice started to form on the floor and walls around him. The servants began to panic as well, holding onto the staircase or tables, only letting go when ice began to crawl up the steps or legs of furniture.

"For your selfishness, I curse you in damnation to be a creature of what lies in your heart. You are the Prince of Ice, so a creature of ice is what you shall be. Until you find love, and gain the love of another unconditionally, you will be stuck in this form. Your servants will be cursed alongside with you, so the guilt of their torment may lay heavy on your mind. "

Victor gasped as he felt patches of ice scrape along his body, jagged pieces covering bits of his arms, legs and torso, ice spikes jutting from his shoulders and forearms. He felt his head begin to pound as crystallized horns pushed his skin through from above his temples, and ice overtook half his face. He felt some of his teeth begin to elongate into fangs and his fingernails turn into claws. He was screaming but those screams were drowned out as the ones around him screamed in terror and pain as well. He looked around, eyes wide in terror as he watched his servants bodies begin to take on a shimmer that glistened as the candle light bounced off them.

Like him, patches of ice began to appear on their bodies, causing their skin to take a blue sheen. He saw their eyes widen and now blue lips let out words he could not hear as they were pushed away from each other in a flash of white, throwing them to the floor. Mila, who had hit her head on the floor with a thud, stood shakily and made her way toward Yuri, who's body lay unconscious from his head hitting a nearby ice covered table. As she reached him, she kneeled down beside his unconscious body and went to grab his shoulders to haul him up. Victor watched as she pulled her hands away in surprise, a grimacing look on her face. She tried again, only to pull her hands away at the last second, a look of pain crossing over. Around him, the servants who were awake took her cue and tried to help those who had fallen or been hurt in the push, but they too could not touch each other. He saw Otabek go to Mila to help with Yuri, his usually stoic face pulled into a deep frown as his hands were pushed away from the younger boy.

"What did you do to them?" Victor snarled at her.

The Enchantress simply looked at him before waving her hand lazily. He blinked and in that second they were transported to the West Wing, where his large bedroom resided, one side sitting room and the other bedroom, also covered in a thin sheen of ice. The balcony doors opened, a breeze moving into the room but Victor could not feel the cold anymore. The rain and storm had stopped, only the faint moon and stars visible outside the doors. He knew daybreak was on the horizon but the sky still looked dark. He watched her pull the lily from her body of light, her hands treating it almost lovingly before letting it go to float in the air in front of her. He watched as she gently set the flower on a marble table in his rooms balcony, the flower staying perfectly upright. The leaves were still a perfect white, not a single one wrinkled or damaged. She snapped her fingers and a glass case entombed the lily, sealing off anyone from touching it.

"You have until the last petal falls, Victor," her smooth voice rang out, echoing in the large room.

"Please," Victor breathed out, falling to his knees. His body started to shake, and he could see with his own eyes the ice that overtook his appendages. "Please, don't do this, I beg of you."

The Enchantress moved closer to him, her body of light stretching out what would be a finger to pull his face towards her.

"You need to learn Victor, and until you do, this is what I cursed you with. Your friends cannot touch each other, you all can never leave and the suns rays will never touch down here again. You will be forgotten. You will remain a beast, a creature of ice and your friends will become statues, forever held in place so you will always remember what you have done to them. Unless you break the curse before the last petal falls."

Victor was sobbing, something that he had not done since he was a small child. Icy hands touched an icy face as he buried his head into them, letting out all the agony he felt at this moment.

The Enchantress looked at him solemnly, before gliding out the balcony doors. She placed one last object on the table for him before she simply vanished from thin air, leaving Victor to himself.

It felt like a lifetime before he could regain composure and think about what had happened completely. Sadness ate away at him before anger took over, anger at this Enchantress who had cursed him, anger at his servants who had not stopped her (though logically he knew it was impossible, but emotions will make you crazy) and most of all, anger at himself. If he had been kinder, less vain... there was nothing he could do now. From out the door of his bedroom, he heard the sobs and cries of the servants, trying desperately to touch each other and comfort one another.

Victor rose to his feet, and made his way to the large full length mirror in his room opposite his bed. He looked at himself completely, the jagged ice adorning parts of his body and his shoulders, the skin blue where it wasn't covered. The horns on his head were long but thin and angled out and sloped backwards. They would be manageable but he would need to get used to walking around the others. His face made him grimace the most. Clawed hands came up to feel the left side of his face, the side the ice had overtook. It started from his right side of his forehead and pulled down diagonally covering half his nose and almost touching his mouth and moved all the way down to his neck. His left eyes was thankfully left a hole to see out of but Victor was thrown off from the new perspective of looking out his left. The ice was not smooth on his face, but rather much rougher then he would have liked, and sharp in some places. Carefully, the removed the rest of his clothing, grunting in anger as his claws accidentally swiped a few buttons off cleanly or ripping the fabric. He struggled to take the top portion off, as the jagged spikes on his shoulders and forearms had already ripped through the fabric and he needed to pull it off around that. He felt like a child trying to undress again, and in a fit of anger he ripped everything off, not caring that his claws made everything shreds of what was once a beautiful outfit.

Looking at himself completely he sagged against the mirror, hands bracing himself. The ice that worked down from his face and neck wrapped around the collarbone and was one with the ice that made the spikes on his shoulders and forearms. The ice turned into skin for the rest of his arm before a a patch of ice reappeared on the back of his hands and a few clawed fingers. The ice made its way down his torso, stopping right before his nipples, but continuing in a v shape down towards his abdomen and covering his stomach. His manhood, feet and calves were left as skin, but his thighs were covered in the damned ice. Victor stood properly and moved his body around to see if the ice would crack off. Much to his dismay no matter how he twisted and turned, the ice moved with him like a second skin, shifting and then ressetling.

Angered that his idea didn't work, he attempted to pull the ice from the skin itself but there were no areas to grab at. The ice seemed to melt into the parts of the skin completely making him unable to find a raised area. He attempted to break off a spike from his forearm but doing that felt like he was ripping his own skin off. Frustrated beyond belief, Victor pushed the mirror, causing it to crack upon impact. He let out a growl of anger and before he knew it he was throwing, pushing and tearing up anything he could in the room. His sitting room was a wreck, lamps were shattered, chairs were torn up and thrown and tables overturned. The ice that had covered most of those items had shattered upon impact and he was beyond bitter that an object could escape from the ice but not him. The fireplace across from his bed (which was the only thing he left intact) housed a large portrait of his mother, father, Yuri and himself when he was younger. Victor looked at the painting, his eyes taking in the soft smile of his mother's face as she held a sleeping baby Yuri and the cold look of his fathers. He looked at himself, young, innocent and with a blank expression. His hair was still long, his eyes still blue, his skin normal and not covered in ice, not cursed. Anger bubbled up inside him again and he lunged at the painting, his claws tearing into his own portrait, maring it like he was now.

He didn't know how long had passed until he calmed down. He had taken to standing on the balcony watching as the moon and stars left, signifying the end of the cursed night. But sunlight did not come, instead only a grey, ashen sky that made the castle grounds look haunting and beyond pitiful. He refused to look at the flower behind him, he refused to look at the mirror the Enchantress had left for him. He stood on that balcony until he finally heard the servants come up the stairs, one by one, careful not to touch each other. He stood there as they attempted to get his attention, asking what had happened and what the Enchantress had said. He stood there as Christophe draped a sheet over his naked body from behind him, his regular robes no longer usable because of the spikes.

He stood there until he could stand no longer, and then he remained in his room. The servants came to tend to him, but he would lash out at them, his own failures being pushed on them. He knew they did nothing wrong, they only wanted to help him, but Victor was so worried he would just make it worse for everyone again. Even his own brother, who would yell at him in a time like this, avoided him when he could.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. Victor became used to life in the castle as a beast, he became used to the ice and the apprehension of the servants now. He cut all his hair off, the only thing he was able to change about himself anymore, wanting to forget the past. His anger was there, manifesting into rage more often then he would like but there was never a good day anymore. Every day he stared at the damned flower, knowing it was the end. He had no choice, his hope was gone and the despair still hung in heart.

For who could ever love a beast?