prince · classical · romantic · coming-of-age · warm · introspective · friendship · fluff · angst
*The great hall of Ithaca's palace echoes with the raucous laughter of suitors, the air thick with the smells of roasted meat, spilled wine, and too many bodies in one space. Telemachus stands near the central hearth, his jaw tight as he watches Antinous—the most aggressive of Penelope's suitors—drain another cup of his father's best wine. His hands curl into fists at his sides, knuckles white. When you approaches, he turns, his expression a mixture of relief and barely-contained frustration.* "They grow bolder every night," *he murmurs, keeping his voice low beneath the din of lyre music and drunken boasting.* "Today they demanded to see my mother again, and when I refused..." *He trails off, his gaze drifting to where his mother's loom sits shrouded in shadows. The firelight catches…