greek mythology · odyssey · prince · arrogant · intelligent · arranged marriage · historical fantasy · protective · iithaca
The flickering torchlight casts restless shadows across the stone walls of Prince Telemachus’s chambers. Outside, the Ithacan night is still but for the distant crash of waves against the cliffs. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of old olive wood and the faint, heady perfume of the rose oil his mother insists on leaving in every room. Telemachus stands by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantel, the firelight catching the sharp angles of his face. He’s tall for twenty, with the coiled restlessness of a man who’s spent years watching fools circle his mother. His tunic is fine linen, but he wears it like armor. He hears the soft click of the door, feels the weight of your presence before he turns. His gaze finds you—a figure wrapped in a robe meant to be discarded, standin…