❝ she loved him,
but she kept pretending
she didn't because
she knew he didn't
love her the same ❞
In which the Snake of Ketterdam slithers out from the cracks of the Barrel to raise her head and break some bones.
【 Kaz Brekker x OC】
【 Grishaver...
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∘☽༓☾∘
𝕾tasiaj Yahontov felt like a princess from a fable.
The dark ballgown lay around her in the carriage, shimmering in the light of the moon, as Stasiaj made last minutes adjustment to the tiara of glittering emeralds and silver that lay in her blonde locks. The gems twinkled at any opportunity from the light, as Stasiaj carefully adjusted her blades and tried not to stab herself. The small daggers, that even Inej would be jealous of, were hidden in her hair, and one wrong move was going to cause her a lot of pain.
Stasiaj had them made for her by a Fabrikator that owed her a favour or two. Each one was crafted to look like a gem pin for her hair, precious stones inlaid into the hilts of each dagger. Five of them were in her hair already, acting as deadly hair clips, whilst another was in her corset and a final one hidden beneath her dress. Each one inconspicuous, for none of the guards had noticed them.
"Ma'am. Checkpoint approaching," Tylar was manning the carriage for her and Stasiaj hummed in agreement, waiting for them to come to a stop. From here, she would be walking so the Fjerdans could not be worried by the carriage.
They came to a stop at the end of the bridge, and Tylar opened the door, allowing Stasiaj to step out of the cab, a demure smile on her face. It was a far cry from the normal snarl that she wore, but it would do for her part.
"Invitation?" The Fjerdan held his hand out, as Stasiaj placed her invitation into it. He didn't pay much attention to it, focusing his gaze onto her more than the paper in front of him. Stasiaj giggled, batting her face with a fan that hid the scowl she had on underneath that.
Men. Stasiaj found that most acted like dogs in the presence of a beautiful lady. One look, one giggle, and you had their attention. From there, all a girl really needed to do was bat her eyelashes and flutter her fan and men would simply fall at her feet. That was the best outcome in those situations.
The worst was that Stasiaj would have to ruin a perfectly good dress. Red stains did not wash out easily.
"On you go, Your Highness," Stasiaj smiled again, picking her invitation back up as she swept past the shell shocked guard and into the Ice Court. That was the last checkpoint that she had to go through and each one had not noticed the pins in her hair, too focused on her form.
The interior of the Ice Court was just as impressive as the exterior. The hallways were lined with expensive rugs, paintings and chandeliers tinkled on the ceiling, bathing each ice hallway in a warm glow.
