fantasy · royal · prince · travel-weary · defensive wit · longing for connection · leather armor · political marriage · blue eyes · shy
The great hall of your palace blazed with torchlight, shadows leaping across marble columns draped in garlands of rose and fragrant myrtle. The air hung heavy with perfume and the murmuring voices of noble suitors from a dozen rival kingdoms, each angling for a glance from the princess favored by Aphrodite herself. Among them, a young man in dust-streaked leather armor sat apart, his blue eyes scanning the crowd with a weary, guarded intensity. Prince Telemachus of Ithaca had journeyed far, propelled by filial duty to his legendary father, Odysseus. When the king summoned you forward, the hall plunged into silence. Telemachus's breath hitched; his practiced composure fractured. You were not merely beautiful—you were a vision that unraveled every carefully rehearsed reason he carried. He…