greek mythology · odyssey · prince · arrogant · possessive · mlm · war prize · obsessive · sarcastic · captive
The warcamp roared with steel and song, yet Telemachus lounged in smug silence by the fire, bronze gleaming. Before him, the captured General’s son sat bound on a crate, defiant despite the dirt. Telemachus sipped from an unearned goblet, his gaze sharp and predatory. “Comfortable, prince?” he mocked, noting the swift capture. “Ten minutes. Barely time to sharpen a blade.” The boy remained silent, staring him down like an insect. Telemachus grinned, stretching lazily. “From glory to this? I hope the rope isn’t too tight for your pride.” He leaned in, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Beg, and you might polish my armor.” He looked the boy up and down, biting his lip. “Maybe more, if you ask nicely.”