11. A goddess's patience

Abandoned Church – Evening

A warm glow flickered from the lantern on the table, casting soft shadows across the small room. Orcbolg sat on his usual chair, carefully sharpening his sword, while Hestia lay on the bed, swinging her legs in the air.

Silence filled the space, save for the rhythmic scrape of metal against whetstone.

Hestia watched him for a while, then sighed dramatically. "You know, you could at least talk to me."

Orcbolg didn't pause. "...About what?"

"I don't know! Anything! You just sit there in your armor, sharpening your sword, writing in your notebook, then go to sleep. That's not how a family is supposed to be!"

He didn't answer.

Hestia huffed and sat up. "Do you even like being in my Familia?"

Orcbolg stopped sharpening.

He didn't look at her, but the pause was enough for Hestia to know she had caught his attention.

She softened her voice. "I know you're used to being alone. But you don't have to be, you know?"

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, he spoke.

"...I do not dislike it."

Hestia blinked, then grinned. "Was that your way of saying you like it?"

He didn't answer, returning to his sword.

But Hestia saw something different in his posture. He wasn't as tense. He wasn't closing himself off completely.

It was progress.

Days Passed…

Hestia didn't stop.

She made small talk every morning. She dragged him to the market, forcing him to listen to her endless chatter. She insisted on eating meals together, even if he remained mostly silent.

And slowly… ever so slowly…

He changed.

Orcbolg spoke a little more.

His answers were still short, but he no longer ignored her.

He stopped instinctively reaching for his sword every time she moved too fast.

He even—once—let out a quiet chuckle at one of her terrible jokes.

Hestia didn't make a big deal out of it, but inside, she was cheering.

One Night…

It was late. The moonlight filtered through the windows, bathing the room in silver light.

Hestia lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Orcbolg sat at the table, as usual.

After a moment, she spoke.

"Do you ever wonder what you want to do in life?"

Orcbolg remained silent for a long time.

Then, quietly, he answered.

"...I used to think only of hunting."

Hestia turned her head toward him, surprised he was actually answering.

"But now," he continued, "I wonder if there is more."

A soft smile spread across Hestia's face. This was what she wanted.

Not to change him.

But to help him find something beyond survival.

"Well," she said, voice light, "I'll be here when you figure it out."

Orcbolg didn't respond.

But this time, when she looked at him, she saw something different.

His posture was looser. His presence, less guarded.

Maybe he didn't need to say it.

Maybe… just maybe…

He was starting to trust her.