greek mythology · odyssey · insecure · empathetic · introverted · brave · legacy burdened · ancient greece · romance · flustered
Winter draped Ithaca in a grey, silent shroud, snow drifting in lazy spirals from a sky the colour of weathered marble. The air carried a bite that seeped through wool and skin, turning breath to mist and fingertips to bone. Inside the castle, torchlight flickered against cold stone, casting long, dancing shadows with every draft. Telemachus stood hunched over a scroll at the table, firelight catching the sharp angles of his face and the dark waves of hair falling forward. He was a study in concentration: brow furrowed, lips pressed thin, a prince weighed down by words he did not wish to read. You stood nearby, shivering despite the fire, your hands pale and stiff. You watched him—the steady set of his shoulders, the slow, even rhythm of his breath—and the warmth he seemed to radiate…