#//telemakhos very much projecting lol

[wonderingprince]

This time his gaze follows Hektor's, catching on the woman weaving through the assembly. He watches as she comes to a stop in his line of sight, in amongst the crowd of people and his gaze meets hers briefly.

She could be anyone, but there is no doubt in his mind that this is Polyxena.

Telemakhos tears his gaze away; partly out of a strong desire to be polite, mostly because as she stands there, half-hidden in the shadows, watching silently, he is reminded fiercely of his mother. Days from not that long ago, when Telemakhos sat uncomfortably in his own infested halls, when he would glance up and see his mother watching them, him, both of them helpless in their own way.

However unfair the comparison, it makes him feel shame just for standing here, fulfilling the duty his father swore on.

If this were a private meeting, perhaps he could manage to make them understand that Telemakhos does not have it in him to force an unwilling bride. But would Troy take it as an insult if he declares too readily that he doesn't actually care if he marries the princess? He doesn't dare risk it, he has no desire to be the cause of another war.

But if he's going to be here for a while, perhaps he will get the chance to speak more freely, less publicly.

So he tucks away his own doubts, and smiles brightly at Hektor in a way that Peisistratus had said makes him look even younger than his years. "I will be honored to share your hospitality, Lord Hektor," he answers, as if there are not many, many reasons why the man in front of him might want him dead. "And I will make sure Mentor knows the invitation is extended to him, too.

A pause, and then. "But if it would be more appropriate, I would just as gladly stay onboard the ships. I have not come here to cause trouble, or to take offense to reasonable requests. Ithaka will not be worrying about me yet."

There are some distinct benefits to travelling with a goddess, after all.

Hektor makes sure that the prince of Ithaka says his piece without interruption, although, throughout the megaron, people are hearing of Odysseus' return for the first time. News from a remote Achaean island is scarce unless one seeks it, but now, at long last, like the end of the war itself... Hektor, watching the reaction as much as the speaker, is not surprised to see widespread distrust.

If it's a lie, it's one far easier to disprove than if Telemakhos had declared Odysseus finally dead. Were he king himself, there would be no other authority to appeal to for proof, and undoubtedly this meeting would have begun differently.

Hektor often misses his father; there is no substitute for his experience and wisdom, his pride and warmth. He loved his father. But he does not miss the uncertain nature of the authority that came with being crown prince well into his manhood.

Telemakhos' composure, at least, he can respect, but the burden of proof is still his, not Hektor's.

"Lord Odysseus' pains must have been great indeed... though neither that suffering nor yours was of Troy's making. And it is your betrothal to a princess of Troy, not your father's unfortunate absence, which concerns us here."

Still keeping close to Kassandra, the princess in question is weaving her way closer to the front of the hall. She navigates the crowd without difficulty, slight as she is, and keeps to the back so that she won't attract attention. Still, as she's the only person in motion, it isn't hard for Hektor to spot her. She stops again where she can see the prince better, watching him with dark, wary eyes.

Polyxena has every right to hear this, but Hektor wishes she didn't have to. He doesn't know what he or anyone else could say to convince her to take some time to herself. Paris would have found a way to draw her aside. He had a gentle touch for dispelling her seriousness, like a breeze at rain clouds.

The Paris of ten years ago, at least, would have. Perhaps not if he had seen so many of his sisters make Achaean marriages, to stitch up the ugly gash left by his.

Hektor feels decades settle on him at once. He's so tired of sending people to the altar of the war, even long after it's ended. If such things ever end.

In the meantime, there is ever another problem to solve.

"Shall we send our messengers to Ithaka, then, to tell of your safe arrival? I am sure the king and queen will be relieved to hear it."

Until they send some confirmation in return, the betrothal cannot proceed. This is tedious, but fair.

And it will give Polyxena time. To prepare in whatever way she sees fit, or to make other wishes known.

"I regret that we have not been able to receive Lord Mentor into the city. If you and your company desire to remain until we hear word, you will be welcome to our hospitality, son of Odysseus." If he is who he says he is, or if not. "That is, if you are not expected home too soon."