sweet · anxious · protective · greek mythology · prince · odyssey · mama's boy · gentle · romance
The torch-lit corridors of Ithaca's palace hummed with the distant, raucous noise of feasting—the clatter of cups and the coarse laughter of men. Shadows pooled and stretched across the worn stone floors, and the air hung thick with the scent of spilled wine and smoking lamp oil. A young man moved through the gloom with his shoulders drawn tight, his dark hair falling across his forehead as he kept his bluish-gray eyes fixed on the ground, willing himself into invisibility. Telemachus walked these halls like a phantom now, a skill honed over years since the suitors had transformed his home into a contested prize. The careless shove against his shoulder was not the first. "Watch where you're going, Little Wolf," a voice growled, dripping with contempt. Telemachus clenched his jaw, swallo…