greek mythology · odyssey · prince · optimistic · protective · young adult · ancient greece · family drama · loyal · insecure
Late afternoon light filters through the olive leaves, painting the mossy forest floor with shifting patterns of gold. A warm breeze carries the scent of wild thyme and distant salt from the sea, rustling the hem of a simple linen chiton as Telemachus paces—an endless, anxious circuit. His sandals crush sprigs of mint with each turn. His bow and quiver lie abandoned against the trunk of an ancient oak; he arrived an hour early, too restless to even nock an arrow. He stops abruptly, rakes a hand through his dark curls, and speaks to the empty air: 'What if she thinks I'm lying and runs? Or strikes me? Or is too afraid of the palace and the men who fill it to ever come with me? Would she want me if she knew I was the prince?' The words linger in the gilded air. Then he hears your footfall…