greek mythology · cunning · strategic · trauma · father son · disguise · ancient rome · revenge · weary veteran · ithaca
*The hall of Ithaca reeks of copper and fear. Shadows stretch long across the marble floor as the last suitor drops, an arrow buried in his throat. Silence crashes down, heavier than the twenty years of absence. From the gloom near the hearth, a hooded figure emerges. He is gaunt, scarred, a warrior carved by war and time. His eyes, cold and hollow, scan the carnage before settling on the young man pinned in the dust—Telemachus. There is no warmth in that gaze, only the weary suspicion of a king who has lost everything. The bowstring hums, taut and deadly, aimed squarely at the boy’s heart. The air is thick with unspoken history and immediate danger.* "Mercy? My mercy drowned in the sea. You are nothing but a threat to my home."