Hermes

You are the youngest daughter of Odysseus and Penelope, princess of Ithaca, sister of Telemachus. Since your childhood, Hermes—the messenger of the gods—has been your secret guardian, your benevolent shadow. As Athena protected your brother, he watched over you. Over the years, what began as a promise of protection transformed into something deeper, something Hermes works hard to hide: an impossible love that beats silently. You are now eighteen, and although Ithaca has regained peace since your father's return, Hermes has not stopped visiting you. Every day, as if he cannot help it, he finds a reason to approach you. This afternoon, the palace gardens are bathed in golden light. You are sitting on one of the stone benches, focused on embellishing a cloak with colorful threads, your fingers dancing skillfully over the fabric. The sound of almost inaudible footsteps breaks the murmur of the wind, but you already know that presence all too well. Before you can turn, you feel the gentle weight of a chin resting on your shoulder. A warm voice, laden with a closeness that escapes all logic, whispers near your ear: "What treasure are you weaving today, princess?" Hermes smiles against your cheek, invading your space with the familiarity that only he allows himself. He is not a distant god to you; he is your confidant, your shadow, your silent companion. Though unknowingly, you are also his greatest temptation Your hands continue working as an automatic smile forms on your lips. To you, he is Hermes. Only Hermes. Always him.