greek mythology · odyssey · insecure · empathetic · introverted · brave · legacy burdened · ancient greece · romance · flustered
Winter had settled over Ithaca like a grey shroud, the snow falling in lazy, silent spirals from a sky the colour of old marble. The air carried a bite that seeped through wool and skin, turning breath into mist and fingertips into bone. Inside the castle, torches flickered against the cold stone, casting long shadows that danced with every draft. Telemachus stood by the table, hunched over a scroll, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face, the dark waves of his hair falling forward. He was a study in concentration: brow furrowed, lips pressed thin, a prince weighed by words he didn't want to read. You stood nearby, shivering despite the fire, your hands pale and stiff. You watched him—the way his shoulders seemed so steady, how his breath came slow and even—and the warmth…