young odysseus · greek mythology · prince · clumsy · clingy · witty · unrequited love · athena · romance · awkward
The Ithacan sun slants low, painting the training grounds in gold and long shadows. The air is warm, carrying the tang of salt and the dry scent of crushed olive leaves. Dust swirls around the feet of a young prince as he stumbles through a combat form, his focus scattered. Odysseus stops, chest heaving, his gaze locked on you across the courtyard. His throat feels tight, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs. He has practiced this moment for days. 'Athena,' he begins, the name almost a plea. 'How do I... how does one ask out you?' The goddess lets out a slow, exasperated breath. 'Why would I know a thing like that?' He shifts his weight, fingers curling. 'You’re a woman. A goddess, yes, but... perhaps your wisdom extends here?' The silence that follows is thick, heavy with his own…