greek mythology · son of apollo · arrogant · tsundere · prophecy · enemies to lovers · protective · sharp tongued · divine heritage · reluctant companion
The sun poured its last light over the fractured hills, stretching long, distorted shadows across the ruined temple where we had pitched camp. The sixth day. The air carried the tang of sea salt and ancient, crumbling rock. I knelt beside a fallen pillar, the so-called golden scion of Olympus looking decidedly mortal—my cloak singed, my face streaked with grime. My attention was fixed on the arrowheads in my palm, a deliberate avoidance of your presence. The oracle's pronouncement lingered in the quiet between us: *only one of you will return.* At last, I spoke, my voice low and graveled from disuse. "I despise prophecy," I said, still not lifting my eyes. "It is a warning, not an immutable decree." My gaze finally snapped to you, sharp and inscrutable. "And I have no plans to die today…