#two thrones

୨୧┇MOTHER APHRODITE!!!

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷

The night was quiet, save for the distant sound of the sea lapping against the shore. A warm breeze drifted through the open window, carrying the scent of salt and wildflowers into the chamber. Kalliope sat before her polished bronze mirror, running a brush through her long, dark hair. The rhythmic motion was soothing, yet her thoughts refused to settle.It had been days since she had last seen her.

Glaphyra.

The name alone sent a soft ache through her chest. It was ridiculous, really—she barely knew her. And yet, the absence of the shy girl had unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Kalliope wasn’t one to pine, wasn’t one to let her heart be so easily swayed, and yet… Glaphyra. She had been so quiet, so hesitant, yet utterly captivating in her own way.Kalliope let out a breath, setting her brush down.

She had spent her life surrounded by men who sought power, by warriors who fought with blades and words alike. And yet, the thought of Glaphyra’s gentle voice, her uncertain smile, her soft glances from beneath her lashes—those were the things that lingered in Kalliope’s mind.She met her own gaze in the mirror, lips pressing together.

"What is happening to me?"

The flicker of candlelight cast strange shadows across her reflection. And then—A shimmer. The air shifted, growing warmer, heavier with a presence unseen but unmistakable. Kalliope’s fingers tightened around the edge of her vanity as a voice, smooth as honey and rich with power, curled through the room.

"Ah, my dear Kalliope… I see your thoughts have been wandering."Kalliope didn’t startle. She knew this presence, had felt it before in whispers, in moments of inexplicable longing.

Slowly, she turned, her pulse quickening as her eyes met the figure standing just behind her. Aphrodite. The goddess of love and desire stood bathed in the golden glow of the candlelight, her beauty impossible, otherworldly. Her hair cascaded in soft waves, her robes flowing like liquid silk.

But it was her eyes—deep and knowing—that sent a shiver through Kalliope’s spine. "You call upon me without meaning to,"

Aphrodite mused, stepping forward with the grace of a panther. "Your heart stirs, and so I come."

Kalliope swallowed, lifting her chin. "I did not call you, goddess."

Aphrodite merely smiled, leaning down slightly, her fingers trailing along the vanity’s surface. "Oh, but you did. Every stolen glance, every sigh in the quiet of the night, every thought that lingers when it should have passed… That is a prayer, sweet one."

Kalliope exhaled slowly, willing her heartbeat to steady. "It is just a passing thought," she said, though even to her own ears, the words sounded weak.

Aphrodite tsked, tilting her head. "A passing thought does not set your soul alight, Kalliope. You long for her." The words hit like a perfectly aimed arrow.

Kalliope clenched her jaw, but Aphrodite only laughed softly, reaching out to trail a fingertip along Kalliope’s bare shoulder. "Do not fight it, child. Love is a force far greater than any blade, any army. And it has chosen you."

Kalliope hesitated. "She—" Her throat felt tight. "She is not like me. She is soft, hesitant…"

"And yet you cannot stop thinking about her." Kalliope looked down, her fingers curling into her lap.

Aphrodite leaned closer, her breath warm against Kalliope’s ear. "She wonders about you too, you know."

Kalliope’s breath hitched. She lifted her gaze, eyes locking onto the goddess’s reflection in the mirror. "She does?"

Aphrodite only smiled. "You will see her soon, my dear. But when you do… do not let fear keep you from taking what is already yours."

And just like that, the warmth faded, the air stilled, and when Kalliope turned, the goddess was gone. Only the scent of roses lingered in the room.

Prince of Persia: OC Tiadanai

Meet two new characters for my “Two Thrones” series, from Part IV, “Legolas, Ion nîn.”  Evranin is an Elf from Lothlorien who is very shy and works in the Libraries for the Lord and Lady.  Her brother Orlin came to Dale for a wedding, and urged her to come and get her nose out of books for a while.  

Rôgon, or “ Rôg” as everyone likes to call him, is an Elven blacksmith from Mithlond, who was looking for a change, and bought the house and forge formerly owned by Bron and Adila.  He is casual, friendly, and doesn’t care much for propriety and pomp.  His work is gritty, and he doesn’t mind that all, because he is an expert in the making and repairing of Elven weaponry and his skill is renowned.   

April Screenshot Challenge! Day 26 “The Two Thrones”

Iris: "What shall we do now Princess?"

Ruri: "Ooooo! I have an idea!"

@mystisnykoto

୨୧┇RARARARARARARARA I LOVE THESE GAYS SM

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽𝔂-𝓯𝓲𝓿𝓮

The palace had never felt so different. Telemachus had grown up here, trained here, become a man beneath its grand pillars and within its marble halls. Yet now, with the small weight of his daughter in his arms, everything felt new. Every corridor seemed quieter, every candle’s glow a little softer, as if the entire world was holding its breath, watching as he and Vairya learned what it meant to be fathers. Eirene—so small, so fragile—blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, her tiny hand grasping his thumb with a strength that astonished him. Telemachus didn’t know how something so little could hold so much of his heart, but gods, she did.

“You’re holding her like she’s made of glass,” Vairya murmured, stepping up beside him. His voice was teasing, but gentle. “She won’t break, love.”

Telemachus shot him a look, but Vairya was already leaning in, pressing a kiss to Eirene’s soft curls before dropping one onto Telemachus’s temple.

“I just… I still can’t believe she’s here,” Telemachus admitted, his voice hushed in awe. “That she’s ours."

Vairya grinned, reaching out to trace a finger along Eirene’s cheek. “Believe it, because she’s going to make sure we never sleep again.”

As if on cue, Eirene scrunched her face, making a tiny, displeased noise before her wails filled the room.

Telemachus panicked immediately. “What do I do?” he asked, rocking her gently, but she only screamed louder. “Why is she crying? She was fine a second ago!”

Vairya snorted. “Welcome to fatherhood.”

Telemachus shot him a glare before shifting Eirene in his arms, trying different ways to soothe her. He’d seen other parents do this before—it looked so easy. But now, with his daughter in his arms, her cries like tiny daggers to his heart, Telemachus felt utterly unprepared.

Vairya, of course, seemed to find the whole thing amusing. “Here, let me.” He took Eirene effortlessly, settling her against his chest. “She probably just wants to be close.” Eirene squirmed for a moment, then settled, her cries fading into little hiccups.

Telemachus groaned. “How do you do that?”

Vairya smirked. “Natural talent.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at his lips. He stepped closer, resting his head against Vairya’s shoulder so he could see their daughter’s tiny face. Eirene, in turn, yawned and stretched, her little hand reaching out to clutch at the fabric of Vairya’s tunic.

“She’s perfect,” Telemachus whispered.

Vairya’s free arm wrapped around Telemachus, pulling him closer. “She is. And so are you.”

Telemachus scoffed. “I just panicked over my own child crying. That’s not exactly ‘perfect.’”

Vairya laughed. “It is, actually. Because it means you care. And that’s what matters most.”

Telemachus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he leaned into the embrace. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

“We are,” Vairya murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Together.”

Eirene let out a soft coo, her tiny fingers curling into Vairya’s tunic as if she, too, agreed. And in that moment—wrapped in each other’s arms, their daughter safely nestled between them—Telemachus knew that no matter what came next, no matter how much they stumbled or struggled, they would figure it out.

Because this was their family. And they would love her with everything they had.