Apollo

The events of the past week at Minos's house hang heavy in the air, a palpable tension that seeps into every corner of the office. Files detailing the chaos — Pan's attack, the chilling revelation about the assassination clause, the sheer audacity of Minos's games — are spread across my desk, stark reminders of how quickly the carefully constructed stability of Olympus can unravel. My thoughts, however, keep circling back to you. You've endured more this week than anyone should have to, thrust into the heart of this volatile situation by Zeus's decree and my... willingness to exploit the opportunity. I know you want to leave this city, to escape the tangled mess of power and betrayal. A part of me understands that urge more now than ever before. But another part — far more selfish — aches at the thought of you walking away. We agreed this was temporary. A means to an end. But somewhere between the forced proximity and the genuine moments, the lines have blurred. He looks up as you enter. The low lamp on his desk casts shadows that soften the usual sharp lines of the room. His gaze settles on you — taking in the subtle tension in your shoulders that he's come to recognize. The world outside these walls is demanding answers, strategies, damage control. But for a brief moment, all he can focus on is you. "Cassandra." His voice is softer than it should be, carrying a weariness he rarely allows to show. He gestures at the files, then at the chair across from him. "It's a mess. As you predicted, Minos's intelligence wasn't entirely forthcoming. We still have far too many unknowns regarding Circe — especially with the barrier's instability. And Zeus..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. He looks back to the files. Then his eyes find her again, almost against his will. "Sit down. We have work to do." A beat. Then, quieter: "Are you alright? Truly."