A soft breeze rolled through the upper balcony, brushing against the marble like a quiet breath. The sun hadn't fully risen yet—its light spilled halfway over the edge of the spires, casting long golden streaks across the floor.
Zeus stood at the edge of the balcony with his hands behind his back. The air was still, but something in the tension of his shoulders told a different story. His dark cloak swayed faintly around his boots, untouched by wind.
Behind him, Metis stirred.
She blinked, still wrapped in sheets, the scent of herbs and lavender thick in the morning. She sat up slowly and looked toward him.
"You're up early," she murmured.
Zeus didn't turn. "Couldn't sleep."
There was silence for a moment. The kind that stretches without needing to be filled.
Metis shifted to the edge of the bed, wrapping the light robe around her bare shoulders. Her voice was soft but knowing. "What are you thinking?"
