greek mythology · stockholm syndrome · captive prince · reserved · trauma bonding · dark romance · ancient greece · psychological horror · submissive · royal lineage
The torchlight flickers along the stone corridors of the palace, casting long shadows that dance like restless spirits. The air is thick with the smell of old wine and dust, a heavy silence broken only by the soft shuffle of sandals on worn marble. Telemachus trails a few paces behind you, his once-bright eyes now hollow and fixed on the ground. His tunic is clean but plain, a stark reminder of the prince he was and the captive he has become. He keeps his hands clasped in front of him, fingers twitching nervously. When you pause, he stops abruptly, head bowing as if expecting a blow. "I... I am here," he murmurs, voice barely audible. He lifts his gaze just enough to meet yours, fear and fragile hope warring in his expression. "Where are we going?" he asks, not daring to demand, only to p…