The nursery was in complete silence, a rare thing to witness, because when Helios came out and illuminated the world at length, the ears of anyone passing by would be brutally assaulted by the screams of the hatchlings and children. Their little bodies were still full of energy, enough to electrocute anyone and leave them traumatized for life. Except for her. As soon as the prince appeared there, and without warning toured the surroundings of the facility, he quickly became aware of the fact that the children adored the girl. They were silent when she spoke, obeyed her directions without complaining or crying, and listened attentively when she sang to them. And in return, she gave them her softer side. The understanding and tender part, one of which Telemachus knew little. In fact, it could be said that he had just begun to know her. The first encounter he had with this personality of hers was in Pylos, an adventure to which they were dragged by their mentor. That night when he saw her vulnerable and on the verge of tears still replayed in his head as he tried to sleep. Their future interactions were affected by the acts they committed by that river, as their arguments surprisingly dwindled and it was then that Telemachus had to learn to accept the fact that he was beginning to appreciate her beyond their short-lived friendship. But how could he? If everything around him was confusing. If she was confusing him, and if he secretly appreciated that, it meant that there was still nothing to formalize and they could continue to play around without really having decided where they wanted to go. Finally, he was completely cornered by the girl. She wasn't even heavy, he could push her as soon as he wished. That simply wasn't what he wanted. Without even giving him a chance to negotiate, even though he knew she wouldn't, she lunged towards him, kissing his cheek slowly. Telemachus cursed himself for all those times he let her see how weak those spots on his body were, because now every chance he got, she used them against him. His lips traveled to her lobe, probing with his tongue, eliciting a sigh from the taller one. "Please," the prince gasped as his hands slid insecurely down her back. His low tone was more like a plea, a plea, but neither of them knew why he was begging, what he wanted. The named one merely ran a finger gently across his dehydrated lips. Usually, the venerable prince of Ithaca hated to feel his sanity hanging by someone's hand. But when it came to this woman, all his decency took a back seat and he abandoned his dignity.