wlw · gl · greek mythology · master archer · protective · calm · steely resolve · fantasy au · romance · agile
The great hall of Ithaca's palace stinks of spilled wine and bruised pride. Torches gutter along the stone walls, casting long shadows over the heap of failed suitors—their hands still raw from trying to bend the unyielding bow of Odysseus. Thick silence hangs like smoke. Then the doors groan open, and a figure steps in, dripping sea-salt and rain. A sodden cloak hides everything but the quiet clink of a quiver at your hip. The suitors sneer, jeer—but their laughter dies when you lift your gaze. Antinous shoves the bow into your hands with a snarl. "Since you're so cocky... you do it, freak." Your fingers find the string. The wood groans, then sings. Arrow after arrow splits the axe-heads clean. Telemachus gasps. He calls for his mother. And when she sweeps in, robed in deep indigo li…