╰┈➤𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ━━ ❝You've always been my little muse.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you're the object of many powerful men desires; from gods to warriors...they all want 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 🇵🇴🇸🇹-ᴇᴘɪᴄ: ᴛᴍ!ᴀᴜ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
📖A mythic slow-burn, spiralin...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
Lysandra didn't say much after that. She didn't need to.
The walk through the palace halls had been quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made your stomach twist, that made every footstep echo louder than it should've. You didn't ask questions. And Lysandra didn't offer answers. Her eyes stayed ahead. Her lips stayed pressed in a thin, unreadable line.
Your mind, on the other hand, wouldn't shut up.
What could Andreia possibly want?
You'd hardly spoken to her lately. She'd been absent from most of the festivals, always tucked away in council meetings or entertaining guests from the other islands. The few times you had crossed paths, she'd been polite—cool, distant, unreadable, but never unkind.
Still... something didn't sit right.
And now?
Now you stood in her chambers.
Alone.
The scent of steeped roses and chilled mint clung to the air, soft but sharp. Her room was large—larger than yours—with polished marble floors and a silver-inlaid hearth glowing low in the corner.
The window sat wide open, the sea breeze lifting the silk curtains in slow waves. Her furniture was pale wood, carved with Brontean motifs—stormclouds and bronze spears, curling vines and hawks mid-flight. Clean. Lavish. Purposefully cold.
She sat near the window, back straight and legs neatly crossed at the ankles, a delicate porcelain cup balanced in her fingers. The tea inside glowed faintly golden—honeyed, maybe spiced. You couldn't tell.
She didn't look at you at first. Just stared out the window like she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge you yet.
You stood there, uncertain.
Then cleared your throat, forcing your voice into something close to polite. "Lady Andreia," you said carefully, bending low into a curtsy, the words automatic and respectful. "What can I do for you?"
You rose slowly from the dip, trying not to fidget.
And when you looked up—Andreia's expression shifted.
Just for a second.
You saw it—her face was tight, pinched with something unreadable. Annoyance? Discomfort? Something she hadn't meant for you to catch. But the second your eyes met hers, it was gone. Smoothed out like it had never been there at all.
Her lips curled faintly into a smile. The kind that wasn't quite warm. Wasn't quite anything.
"Thank you for coming," she said lightly, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a slow, dainty sip.
