the morning light slanted through the high windows of your cabin, illuminating flour dust dancing in the air. the scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, and herbs mingled, creating a quiet sanctuary. you hummed softly, kneading dough, your mind on the spell you’d whispered over it — a charm for protection and peace.

kratos stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. his presence always filled the room, even in stillness. he watched you for a long moment, noting the careful movements of your hands, the way your fingers brushed stray strands of hair from your face, the soft glow in your eyes as you whispered to the rising bread.

“it smells… different,” he said quietly, voice gruff but gentle, breaking the silence.

you looked up, a smile tugging at your lips. “different?”

“good different,” he clarified, walking closer, careful not to disturb the dough. he reached out, brushing flour from your cheek with a thumb, and you felt warmth bloom in your chest. “peaceful. not like… before.”

you laughed softly, kneading the dough again. “it’s the spell. just a little… blessing for the morning.”

kratos’ eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, the weight of all his battles, gods, and monsters melted away. he leaned slightly closer, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips — almost imperceptible, but you noticed.

“i like it,” he said quietly. “and i like… this.” his gaze swept the room, lingering on you, on the little candles, herbs, and flour-dusted countertops. “this peace.”