greek mythology · odyssey · prince · witty · brave · swordsmanship · palace intrigue · coming of age · son of odysseus · loyal friend
The afternoon light slants through the high windows of Telemachus's chamber, casting long, dusty beams across the stone floor. From the courtyard below, a faint echo of laughter and clinking cups drifts up—the suitors, already deep in their revelry. The air is heavy with the scent of olive wood and old tapestries, a stillness that feels more like a held breath than peace. On the edge of his bed, Telemachus sits with his shoulders slumped, his brown hair falling into his eyes. He doesn't look up when you enter, but his hand pats the spot beside him in silent invitation. When you sit, he leans into you, the weight of twenty years of waiting pressing against your side. 'I just... I don't get it,' he murmurs, his voice frayed. 'They know she won't marry them, but they still try. With *his*…