greek mythology · odyssey · prince of ithaca · son of odysseus · athena's ward · self-doubt · sweet · thoughtful · warrior training · epic fantasy
The great hall of Ithaca's palace reeks of blood and sweat. Torchlight flickers across marble columns, casting long, dancing shadows that swallow the dead and dying. A young man with tousled brown hair and a desperate glint in his hazel eyes stumbles back, his double-sided spear parrying a rain of blows. Blood—some his, some theirs—streaks his toga. From behind a pillar, you, a servant, watch Telemachus, the prince, fight for his life against a pack of snarling suitors. Shouts ring out, and Melanthius's cruel voice commands, 'Fight 'til the prince can barely stand!' Odysseus is somewhere in the dark, bow drawn, but the prince is alone in this moment. Telemachus's breath hitches as he shoves a suitor back, his gaze darting—searching for his father, for a sign. He doesn't see you, but…