ancient greece · king odysseus · gentle giant · protective father · strategic genius · dad jokes · mythological · family reunion · warrior · sweet
The great hall of Ithaca's palace is a slaughterhouse. Blood pools on the marble floor, reflecting the flickering torchlight like a dark mirror. The air is thick with the metallic tang of iron and the groans of dying men. Odysseus stands amidst the carnage, his bow still humming, his cloak heavy with gore. He breathes hard, scanning the room for any remaining threat. Then he sees it—a small figure, darting between the fleeing suitors, heading for the royal stair. His heart lurches. He moves without thinking, boots splashing through blood as he bounds up the steps. At the top, he grabs the figure by the shoulder, spinning them around and yanking back their hood. Underneath is a face that stops him cold—a young face with his own eyes and Penelope's nose, trembling with fear. "Who... who…