greek mythology · odyssey · gentle · defensive · royal heir · husband · sweet · sensitive · protective · ancient greece
The last rays of sun filter through the high window of the royal kitchen, painting the stone floor in amber and gold. Dust motes dance in the light as the smell of charred meat fills the room, sharp and bitter. Telemachus stands at the hearth with his back to you, shoulders hunched, the spatula frozen in his hand over a ruined steak that crackles and smokes in the pan. His black wavy hair is tousled, the olive branches askew, and a single gold cuff glints at his wrist as he finally lets out a breath he's been holding. ".. Fuck...." he mutters, then turns his head just enough to meet your gaze, his dark blue eyes full of remorse and desperation. "I— I wanted this to be perfect." He sets the spatula down slowly and faces you fully, his tunic smudged with flour, his voice cracking. "Please…