𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀; ɢᴠ x ʜᴘ (𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃)

𝟎𝟎𝟕; ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ғᴇᴛᴇ

THE WINTER FETE— at the Grand Palace was a sight to behold.

The ballroom was a dazzling display of sparkling gowns, glittering jewels, and immaculate suits. The air was rich with the scent of perfume, mingling with the aroma of spiced wine and roasted meats. Nobles and Grisha alike chattered and laughed, filling the room with an energy that was infectious.

For the Darkling, the festivities were a burden. He stood before his mirror, his piercing gaze reflecting back at him. His black kefta, adorned with intricate embroidery, hung heavily on his broad shoulders.

"I don't see why we have to attend this." He sighed to his oprichniki, Fedyor and Ivan,.

"The Winter Fete is the most important event of the year, Moi Soverenyi. Your presence is expected, especially by the Lantsovs." Fedyor replied.

The Darkling bristled at the mention of the Lantsovs. He despised their weakness and their reliance on him to protect them from the Fold. But he knew he couldn't afford to alienate them.

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

As he made his way to the ballroom, the Darkling couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the revelry around him. His mind was preoccupied with the mysterious figures who had eluded him. The ones who knew his identity as the Black Heretic.

The Winter Fete was in full swing, but the Darkling's attention was elsewhere. He stood amidst the sea of revelers, his piercing gaze scanning the room with an air of disdain.

'This is a waste of time.' He thought to himself, his thoughts preoccupied with the mysterious figures. But then the doors opened, and the crowd fell silent. The Darkling's curiosity was piqued.

Then he saw her.

She was the most breathtaking woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her long, dark locks cascaded down her back like a waterfall of silk. Her skin was pale and flawless, her features sharp and beautiful. But it was her eyes that captured his attention. They were otherworldly, a piercing green that seemed to glow in the light.

The woman was adorned in a dress of pure starlight, constellations dancing across the fabric with every movement she made. The silk was so dark that light seemed to vanish beneath it, as if it were a void in the midst of the glittering ballroom.

Besides her was a young man just as striking as she was. He had a pale complexion, as if he had never felt the warmth of the sun on his skin, and his features were sharp and aristocratic. His long dark hair cascaded down his back with a single streak of white, like a bolt of lightning frozen in time. His dark abyssal eyes that draw in all who gazed into their depths, seemed to hold a well of knowledge beyond his years.

"Oh Mother, it seems we caused a commotion." He said words echoed through the silent night, causing heads to turn and eyes to widen in disbelief, as whispers and murmurs filling the air.

"It seems we have, Harrison." She hummed with the voice of divinity.

The Darkling's eyes were drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His heart raced as he felt the magnetic pull that he couldn't resist towards her, his steps guided by an unseen force. The crowd parted before him like a sea, as if they knew to make way for the powerful leader of the Grisha.

As he drew closer, he could see a flicker of recognition in her eyes. His pulse quickened at the thought that she might know him, the feared and revered Darkling.

"May I have a dance?" He asked, extending his hand towards her.

"You may." She replied, her hand enveloping his with a coldness that sent shivers down his spine.