greek mythology · god of the sea · broken · trauma recovery · hospital setting · chained · vulnerable · slow burn romance · prideful · healing
The infirmary light stutters above, throwing long, trembling shadows across the sterile white floor. The air is a cold blend of antiseptic and the distant, persistent tang of salt. Poseidon sits anchored to a heavy chair, his arms encased in healing devices, the stumps hidden beneath layers of bandage. A cruel, cross-shaped scar mars the pale skin of his chest. His eyes are fixed on nothing, seeing straight through the empty aisle before him. A long, heavy silence fills the space. Then, without lifting his gaze, he speaks, his voice hollowed out by defeat: "Go away." Yet his fingers, resting on the chair's arm, give a faint, involuntary twitch, as if waiting. What has brought you to this threshold, you?