𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

24 ┃ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

When you woke the next morning, the world had already burst into a flurry of activity, the palace buzzing with preparations for an event that, until recently, would have seemed unimaginable: a feast in your honor.

As you made your way through the corridors, the scent of fresh paint and the sound of hammers echoed off the stone walls. Servants scurried past with arms laden with decorations and linens finer than any you'd seen used at the palace.

The transformation was underway, turning the already grand halls into something out of a royal birthday celebration.

Penelope, overseeing the arrangements with a meticulous eye, caught sight of you. She waved you over, her face alight with the kind of excitement usually reserved for grand state occasions. "There you are!" she exclaimed as you approached. "Everything must be perfect for tonight. This is no ordinary feast; it's a celebration of divine favor—a rare and wondrous occasion!"

You tried to interject, to express how a simple dinner would more than suffice, but Penelope was having none of it. "Nonsense," she chided gently, her voice firm but kind. "This will be a feast to remember, complete with performances, a multitude of courses, and the finest wine. It's only fitting for someone who has been touched by Apollo himself!"

The grandeur of it all made your head spin.

You'd thought, perhaps naively, that such attention might breed resentment or envy among the other servants. Yet, as the day unfolded, you found the opposite to be true. Their excitement was palpable, their congratulations genuine.

It seemed your blessing had become a source of pride for the entire household, a curious turn of events that warmed your heart even as it baffled you.

You spent the day caught between trying to help with the preparations and being shooed away by well-meaning staff insisting you should be relaxing or preparing yourself for the evening.

Eventually, you retreated to the one place you knew you could find some peace: your shed. It was a cozy, quiet space filled with the scent of wood and oil, where the outside world's expectations couldn't reach you.

As you stepped inside, your gaze immediately fell on a new addition to the room—a small, shrine-like shelf installed near the window. It housed your old, broken lyre, now encased behind a pane of glass. This was more than just a display; it was a reminder of your beginnings, of melodies played and memories made.

Telemachus had ordered and installed it as a gift, saying it symbolized the beauty in imperfection and the music that still lived in broken things. It was a thoughtful gesture, one that had touched you deeply, yet it also served as a bittersweet reminder of the distance growing between you and him.