#telemachus x reader

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Could you perhaps continue your "favorite places to fuck" series but with Telemachus? 👉👈 he's invaded my mind so bad

A/n: hehe...I'll be happy too 👏

(A Private Glimpse Into the Heart of a Young King Deeply in Love)

Telemachus, son of Odysseus and Penelope, had not grown up expecting softness.

He was born into a world of war stories, duty, legacies, and shadows he wasn’t sure he could ever fill.

But then you came into his life—his wife, his equal, his peace.

And suddenly, all that weight he carried began to shift.Because in your arms, he wasn’t just the son of a legend.

He was just Telemachus. Yours.

And he never took a single moment of that for granted.

1. The Secluded Garden Behind the Palace

It was your favorite place first; tucked behind the stone walls, wrapped in vines and wildflowers, a small fountain singing in the corner.

Telemachus never cared for gardens until he found you lying barefoot in the grass, laughing at something he said.

Now, it’s where he pulls you into his lap, kissing your neck slowly, the scent of jasmine curling through the air as he lays you back into the earth.

There’s something sacred about the way your hands tangle in his hair, the way his name leaves your lips like a prayer.

He never rushes here. No Here, he worships.

2. The War Room (When It’s Just You and Him)

It’s bold. Reckless. Forbidden.

Which is exactly why it thrills you both.

Maps and scrolls lie forgotten on the table, replaced by the heat of his mouth against yours, the way his hands slide beneath your robes like he knows every inch of you by heart.

He loves pressing you against the table, the carved marble cold beneath your back, your fingers clutching the edges as he kisses down your chest with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, voice thick with want.

You do.

And he proves it. Every time. Because he can never say no to you.

3. The Royal Bath — Steam, Silence, and Skin

This is where Telemachus softens completely.

The steam clings to his skin, and so do you, curled in his lap in the warm water, your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He bathes you like you’re made of gold—his fingers slow and reverent, trailing down your back, across your stomach, between your legs.

He kisses your shoulder before he ever kisses your lips.And when he finally moves inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours, the water rippling softly around you both.

Here, you are not king and queen.

You are simply Telemachus and the woman he would give the world for.

4. His Childhood Room — Where He Lets His Guard Down

Few are allowed here. Only you.

It’s smaller, quieter, untouched by his titles.

He lays you on his old bed, the sheets still smelling faintly of sea salt and summer.Here, he doesn’t have to be strong.Here, he clutches you tighter, his voice softer, whispering things he doesn’t say anywhere else:

“I dreamed of you before I knew your name.”

“You make me feel real.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”

And when he takes you in this room, it’s with everything he is—boy, man, king, lover.

5. Anywhere You Say His Name Like That

You could be in the stables.

In the shadows of the palace halls.

Beneath the stars with a blanket wrapped around your bodies.

If you say his name—soft, breathless, wanting—

He will find you.

And he will take his time.

Because he doesn’t just want to have you.

He wants you to feel how much he needs you.

Every inch of you.

Every sound you make.

Every moment your eyes flutter closed because of what he’s doing to you.

Telemachus never thought he’d be greedy.

But for you?

He always is.

And Later…

You often find him just watching you after you two make love, your chest still heaving, arms tight around you, lips brushing your shoulder.

“You’re my peace,” he’ll whisper.

Then smile, pressing a kiss to your temple:

“And my undoing.”

And you’ll smile back.

Because you know.

You’re his wife.

And he will always be yours.

[purple-umbrella-girl]

And then he kills them all!

Okay here me out please… can you pretty please write a Telemachus x reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise reader starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching reader just like ody did for Penelope when they were teenagers and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior reader is, ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳

୨୧┇Telemachus x reader

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The hall of Ithaca’s palace echoed with the crude laughter of the suitors, their voices grating as they lounged at tables meant for nobler men. Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, shuffled into the room, his weathered cloak draped over his shoulders. He kept his head low, scanning the faces of those who had sullied his home. The suitors noticed him almost immediately.

“Well, look at this!” Antinous sneered, rising from his seat. “Another beggar come to steal what little is left of the feast!” The others laughed, and Eurymachus leaned back, gesturing mockingly. “Shall we toss him a scrap or two, Antinous? Or maybe your leftover bones will do?” Odysseus gritted his teeth but said nothing, his hands tightening on his staff. Before he could respond, however, you stepped forward.

“Enough!” you snapped, your voice sharp and commanding. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to you. You were no servant or passive bystander, you were a fierce protector of the palace, one of the few who still stood loyal to Ithaca and its rightful king.

“This man has done nothing to you,” you continued, your eyes narrowing at Antinous. “If you have any shred of decency left, you’ll leave him be.” Antinous scoffed, but there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “And what will you do if I don’t? Throw me out yourself?” “If I have to,” you replied, your hand resting on the hilt of your blade.

“You always have to play the hero, don’t you?” Eurymachus muttered, rolling his eyes. “Better a hero than a parasite,” you shot back.

At that, the room erupted into murmurs, some of the younger suitors chuckling nervously. Telemachus, standing near the doorway, watched you with wide eyes, his heart racing. The way you stood your ground, fearlessly defying men who thought themselves untouchable, made his chest tighten. Odysseus, still playing the part of the beggar, smirked as he caught sight of his son’s lovestruck expression. Leaning toward Telemachus, he whispered, “I approve of this one.”

Telemachus’s face flushed a deep red. “Father, please,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“She’s got fire,” Odysseus continued, his voice low and amused. “That’s what you need, boy—a woman who won’t back down. Just look at her.” Telemachus did look. He couldn’t help it. The way you glared at Antinous, daring him to make a move, left him in awe.

Antinous, meanwhile, was fuming. “You’ve overstepped,” he growled, taking a step toward you. You didn’t flinch. Instead, you stepped forward as well, meeting him head on. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Before the tension could escalate further, Odysseus cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “Perhaps you should listen to the lady,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “She seems to be the only one here with sense.” Antinous glared at him but reluctantly backed down, muttering curses under his breath.

As the suitors returned to their seats, Odysseus turned to you, his eyes gleaming with approval. “Thank you,” he said softly. You nodded, though your gaze remained sharp as you watched the suitors warily. “Someone has to stand up to them.”

Telemachus stepped closer, his heart still pounding. “You were incredible,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. You glanced at him, a small smile breaking through your serious demeanor. “Thank you, Telemachus.”

Odysseus smirked again, clapping a hand on his son’s shoulder. “She’s a keeper, lad. Don’t let this one slip away.” Telemachus’s face turned scarlet, and he stammered something unintelligible. You tilted your head, curious but amused by his sudden shyness.

[starless-nightz]

Could you do Telemachus with a child! fem! reader that he took in while on the journey to find news of Odysseus?

Platonic! Telemachus taking in child! fem! reader

note -> Bro would be the best big bro ever.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> just fluff.

You were just a scared, hungry kid when Telemachus found you, and he didn’t hesitate to help. Even though he was already dealing with a lot, he couldn’t just leave you behind to fend for yourself.

At first, he had no idea how to take care of a child. He’d never even met a little kid before, let alone taken care of one. He tried acting all tough, but the second you got sick, he panicked and immediately went into protective mode.

He made sure you always had food before he did. Even when he was starving, he’d give you the biggest portion. If you ever tried giving it back, he’d just ruffle your hair and insist he was fine.

He absolutely carries you when you get tired. You would try to keep up with him, but when your little legs couldn’t take it anymore, he would sigh, kneel down, and hoist you onto his back and carry you.

He gets super protective if someone looks at you the wrong way. The first time a shady guy so much as glanced at you, Telemachus immediately stepped between you and them, eyes sharp. He is NOT risking your safety.

You became his biggest cheerleader. Whenever he doubted himself, you would grab his hands and encourage him. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear that until you said it.

You called him your big brother once, and he didn’t correct you. He just kind of blinked, then gave you a little smirk before ruffling your hair. Telemachus would act cool about it but them moment you aren't looking he squeals from happiness.

He would die before letting anything happen to you. You reminded him of how helpless he felt watching the suitors destroy his home, and he refused to let anything like that happen to you.

Whenever you had nightmares, he would let you sleep beside him. Telemachus would grumble about it at first, but when you curled up next to him, he sighed and let it happen.

By the time he finally found any kind of news of his father, you were his family now too. No matter what happened next, he wasn’t going to leave you behind. “Come on, kid. We’re in this together.”

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Just Us"

[Telemachus x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: You have been overwhelmed, Telemachus wants to help.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, overwhelmed reader, fluff

Word Count: 870 words

A/N: First fanfic of my lovely <3 this is for the gals that get overwhelmed a lot(also extremely self-indulgent).

Telemachus stood in the doorway, as he looked at you. He hesitated, his hand gripping the doorframe. You were curled over the table, your head buried in your arms, your shoulders tense and unmoving. The room felt heavy, the air thick with something he couldn't quite name. This wasn't the quiet you often sought—this was different. This was a retreat, a withdrawal, and it worried him.

"Dearest?" he called softly, his voice gentle but firm, cutting through the silence.

You didn't move at first, and for a moment, he wondered if you'd even heard him. Then, slowly, you lifted your head just enough to glance at him.

"Do you need something, Telemachus?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in the room.

He stepped inside, his footsteps quiet, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace you'd carved out for yourself. "I just… I wanted to make sure you're okay," he said, his tone careful, measured.

You straightened slightly, though your gaze remained distant, avoiding his. "I'm perfectly fine, love," you replied, but the words felt hollow, even to you.

Telemachus frowned, his brow furrowing. "You don't usually lie to me," he said, his voice tinged with both concern and a hint of frustration. "And that? That's pretty damning."

You flinched, your hands tightening into fists on the table. "Telemachus—" you began, but he cut you off, his voice rising slightly as his worry spilled over.

"You haven't been talking, haven't been sleeping, have been angry at anything and everyone-" he started, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"Just-stop!" you snapped, your voice sharp and sudden, cutting through the room like a blade.

He froze, his mouth snapping shut, and for a moment, the only sound was the faint echo of your voice. You stared at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and then, just as quickly, the anger drained from your face, replaced by something far worse: guilt.

"Gods," you whispered, your voice breaking as you covered your face with your hands. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."

"What's happening with you?" he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with tenderness.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands still pressed to your face as if shielding yourself from the world. "I'm just… so tired," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "Yet I can't sleep. And when I do, it's like my mind turns against me, like it's punishing me for something-"

He called your name and you stopped.

Telemachus stepped further into the room, his footsteps soft against the stone floor. He could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands trembled slightly. His heart ached for you, and though he didn't fully understand what you were going through, he knew he couldn't just stand by and watch you suffer alone.

"You don't have to apologize," he said gently. "I just… I want to understand. I want to help if I can."

You lowered your hands slowly, your eyes meeting his. There was a vulnerability in your gaze that he hadn't seen before, and it made his chest tighten. You looked exhausted, not just physically but in a way that seemed to go much deeper.

Telemachus moved closer, kneeling beside you so that you were at eye level. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your arm. When you didn't pull away, he let his touch linger, a small gesture of comfort.

"Tell me what you need," he said, "Tell me what you need and you will get it."

You shook your head. "I don't need anything. I'm just so, so tired."

"Then how do I help?"

"I don't know!" You let out a shaky breath. "I don't want to burden you with this," you murmured. "It's not fair to you."

"You're not a burden," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You're my dearest. My partner. My love. If you're hurting, I want to be there for you. That's not a burden—it's what I want. What I choose."

For a moment, you just stared at him, as if trying to process his words. Then, slowly, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, and felt the tension in your body begin to ease, even if only slightly.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice muffled against his tunic. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

He smiled softly, his hand gently stroking your back. "You don't have to do anything to deserve me. I'm here because I want to be. Because I care about you. And we'll figure this out together, okay? One step at a time."

You nodded against his shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to relax, even if just a little. Telemachus held you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm that had been raging inside you.

"Let's start small," he said after a while, his voice gentle. "How about we just sit here for a bit? No pressure. No expectations. Just… us."

You pulled back slightly, looking at him with a faint, grateful smile. "Us…that sounds nice."

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Nypmh

Media - EPIC The Musical Saga Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca Couple - Telemachus X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 17+ Word Count - 1008

Not 100% on who made the Telemachus art I used this time, if someone knows please let me know cause I am not sure.

Telemachus stood on the small ship's deck watching as the island came into view. It was only a short trip to have a diplomatic meeting with the king of a neighbouring island, but it still made him feel rather guilty. He never liked to leave his mother alone in the palace, but he had left his best men to guard it. Nor did he like leaving Argos, but he knew the older dog could take care of himself. In years past kings and lords knew the situation of Ithaca, so when discussions were needed they all visited Ithaca. But the older Telemachus had gotten, and the more responsibilities he had to take on, the more of these trips he had to do.

The ship soon came to the stone docks and there Telemachus was met by a commander, who stood by the docks in a long purple robe, with his sword at his side.

“Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca,” He greeted arms open as he stepped closer, “A pleasure to see you again,”

Telemachus shook the man’s hand, “Greetings Lord Commander.”

“I trust your journey was fast and eventless?”

“Yes, by the gods.” He nodded, “Do you know what it is the king wishes to discuss?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine,”

The lord commander led Telemachus through the imposing gates of the palace. They arrived at a small guest suite. With a fire burning, a bed made ready and a balcony with views across the vast water. The curtain’s softly billowing in the breeze.

“The king will summon you when he is ready,”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Lord Commander.”

“You are welcome, My prince.” He bowed before leaving the suite to attend to other business.

Telemachus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, he had some food and wine to clear his mind. He wanted to sleep but he knew the king had a habit of demanding meetings at strange times and getting angry when the summons didn’t immediately appear to his audience. So he just took a seat on the bed to try and clear his mind.

“Tehe he he he…” A little giggle caught his attention,

He raised an eyebrow and looked around the room trying to find the source of the sound.

“Hee he he he…” Another little giggle came from the balcony,

Telemachus slowly went out onto the balcony glancing around the pillars, until he caught the mysterious giggler.

A girl had her head poked around the pillar but when she saw him she hid behind the pillar,

He couldn’t help but smile as he took a step closer, “Hello? You can come out… Come on? I won’t bite,” he chuckled,

She slowly leaned her head out, a long bubble braid of hair held with silver jewellery hung down almost to her feet,

He smiled and leant on the stone, “Hi,”

“Hi.” she giggled,

“And who might you be?”

“Y/n.” she giggled,

“Y/n?” He smirked, “And why are you doing on my balcony, Miss Y/n?”

“I wanted to see if the prince was handsome,”

“Oh?” He laughed, “And is he?”

She nodded excitedly,

“You’re sweet,” he smiled, “But come on, you need to let me see you so I can tell if you’re beautiful too?”

Juinie giggled and happily came out from behind the pillar revealing her body draped by a thin blue and lilac dress with silver jewellery,

Telemachus couldn’t help but smile, admiring her. “I was right, very beautiful,” he softly took her hand to help her down with him where he slowly wrapped his arms around her,

She giggled and happily pushed her body up against his,

“You are very sweet, very beautiful too… and trouble,” he smirked his eyes running over her and slowly his hands slid across her dress,

She giggled and nuzzled her head under his chin,

“Ohh you’re definitely trouble,” He smirked as he tightened his arms around her and picked her up,

She playfully squealed and giggled as he carried her inside and sat down on the bed pulling her onto his lap,

He tightened his grip on her to keep her close running his hands slowly across her body through her thin dress peppering her skin with little kisses, “Humm, such a sweet little nymph.” he smirked his hands sliding down to her thighs, his hand squeezing her thigh hard, inhaling her sweet scent, making little effort to hide the excitement she was causing below his Chlamys, “What’s the matter my little nymph? Aren’t you used to men having this effect on you?”

“Most boys don’t get to see me.” she giggled,

“No? I must be very lucky then,” he smirked massaging her thighs as he pushed up her dress, “Or all the men here are fools not to see how perfect you are,”

Y/n squealed playfully but wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into a deep kiss,

Telemachus returned the kiss pulling her hard against his body as they kissed, their hands exploring one another impatiently,

But just before he could begin unlacing her dress-

“Prince Telemachus, Our king is ready for his audience with you!” A man called from beyond the door,

Telemachus groaned as he pulled back enough to speak, “Ughh- Yes! Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment,” He softly pushed Y/n off his lap and onto the bed, he got to his feet and adjusted himself so it was less obvious he was so hard below his clothes, “Duty calls my sweet,”

She playfully pouted as she lay on the bed purposely tormenting him,

He chuckled, “Do not be cruel to your poor prince,” He told her leaning down to kiss her again, “I won’t be long. Stay out of trouble till I get back, my little nymph,” He said before he headed for the door, but he had to turn back and look at her one more time,

She playfully waved and blew him a kiss,

He chuckled back and blew her a kiss too, “Wait there for me Y/n.” He winked before he left to go and meet with the king.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | DIVINE WHISPERS: BLOODY BLOODLINE DIVINE WHISPERS: Bloody Bloodline | divine whispers: bloody bloodline⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The sun was still high in the sky as Andreia reclined upon the chaise lounge on her private balcony, teacup balanced daintily between two fingers.

The air held that strange duality only Ithaca could offer this time of year—late season warmth that clung to the daylight hours like a fading lover, while the creeping chill of oncoming night whispered along the edges.

The breeze wasn't biting just yet, but it carried a quiet warning. Still, Andreia remained seated comfortably, her long seafoam robe draped artfully across her legs, the fabric as silky as her expression.

Her balcony faced the palace courtyard, a clever architectural decision that had proved increasingly useful. From her vantage point, she could observe most of the kingdom's daily rhythm without ever setting foot among it.

She took another slow sip of her rosehip tea, eyes lazily scanning the world below.

The servants moved like ants, small and forgettable—scurrying from wing to wing, some bent beneath baskets of fruit, others sloshing water from buckets they barely seemed strong enough to carry.

Her gaze drifted briefly to the training grounds, where several soldiers were sparring, their grunts and the clash of wooden weapons faint against the lull of midafternoon winds.

But it wasn't the servants or the soldiers she focused on when she sat out there.

It was you.

From her elevated perch above the courtyard, Andreia had found the perfect vantage point—not just to enjoy the Ithacan sun, but to watch. To observe. To study.

Lately, she had made a deliberate habit of keeping to herself more often. At least on the surface.

She had taken the queen's polite suggestion of rest to heart, cloaking her moments of silence as grace and reflection. A grieving sister. A dutiful guest. A princess with composure. She wore the role well.

But underneath it all, she was planning. Waiting.

Calculating her next move.

Whenever you flitted about the courtyard below, flanked by servants or brushing shoulders with noblemen, Andreia watched. The way your hair caught the light, the way your skirts moved when you turned too quickly, the way those around you seemed to lighten in your presence.

It irritated her. No—it intrigued her. Which was worse.

There was something about you that demanded attention. Not overtly. Not with arrogance or entitlement.

But with that dangerous, glowing ease.

It made people look. It made people follow.

And Andreia could not have that.

Right now, around her, the air was thick with fragrance—lavender oil and jasmine, mingling in the warm breeze that hadn't yet realized the season had turned.

Though it was nearing the colder months, Ithaca's days still clung to their golden heat, as though stubbornly refusing to give in. Only at night did the truth of the season whisper in your bones. But now, in the soft cradle of the afternoon sun, Andreia lounged like a cat before a hearth.

She sat reclined on a cushioned chaise beneath a silk-draped canopy, her feet extended and resting atop a velvet ottoman. A young man—dark-haired and silent—was crouched at the edge of the lounge, working slow circles into her arches and heels, the tips of his fingers pressing expertly into the delicate curves of her foot.

Two female attendants stood to either side, holding tall banana leaves fashioned into fans. With synchronized grace, they waved them in alternating rhythms, keeping the breeze steady. The rustle of leaves was soft, like whispers in a chapel.

And then there was Dorea.

Seated at Andreia's right on a carved stool, the older handmaiden held her mistress' free hand lightly between her palms. Her fingers massaged slow circles into Andreia's wrist as she spoke in a low, conspiratorial tone of news from back home.

"...and I swear on my mother's hair, Lady Myrrhine said that for her birthday, your parents gifted her a new dress that has a gold trim and moonstone inlays—and she didn't even want it." Dorea clicked her tongue against her teeth with exaggerated pity. "Seems like they're still treating her like a walking shrine. It's honestly pathetic."

Andreia didn't laugh—she smirked.

A slow, venomous thing.

"That insufferable little brat," she muttered, bringing the rim of her teacup to her lips. "Lucky her family has ties in the capital or I'd have had her drowned in the bath by now."

The way she said it was so casual, so offhanded, that none of the servants even flinched. If anything, Dorea gave a soft, cooing chuckle, her fingers smoothing up Andreia's forearm like one would a spooked cat.

"She's nothing, my lady. A swollen ego stuffed in a pretty dress," Dorea soothed. "And you're here now. Far from Bronte's nonsense. Far from her."

The others murmured agreement, nodding like silent birds, their expressions serene but sharpened by years of complicity.

Andreia leaned deeper into her cushions, her forest-green eyes scanning the courtyard again—this time more lazily, the dangerous gleam in them now veiled by a practiced calm. "Yes... thank the gods the little thing didn't beg to follow me here like some loyal pet. She always was more obsessed with the attention than the legacy."

She plucked a grape from the bowl beside her, pressing it between her lips with slow relish.

"Ithaca is cleaner without her noise. And more importantly"—she paused to sip her tea—"it gives me all the space I need to do what I've been meaning to for years."

Dorea's hand stilled just briefly against hers. "Which is, my lady?"

Andreia smiled.

But it was not sweet. Not warm. Not coy.

It was cold, and quiet, and certain.

"To take my rightful place," she said, sipping her tea again as though they were discussing curtain colors. "And if anyone stands in my way..."

Her eyes flicked down to the courtyard, to that damned cypress tree you always seem to sit underneath, her nails tapping against the porcelain cup before she setting it gently aside.

"...they'll learn the cost of crossing someone raised to survive Bronte."

Andreia's lips had just curled around the rim of her teacup again when one of the girls holding a palm fan—Tylissa, the taller one—shifted uneasily and tilted her head toward the courtyard.

"My lady," she murmured, trying to keep her voice even but still hesitating, "I believe... the royal family is approaching."

Andreia hummed in vague acknowledgment, not bothering to glance up from her cup.

Tylissa added carefully, "The Divine Liaison is with them."

That made Andreia pause.

Her eyes—sharp and glinting like wet stone—lifted slowly, flicking toward the courtyard's distant path. Her pupils narrowed like a cat's.

There you were.

She didn't blink.

Penelope was gliding gracefully beside her husband, as always, posture straight but easy. Odysseus walked beside her, one arm casually draped behind her back. And flanking the queen—of course—was you.

Not trailing behind.

Not clinging meekly to the edges.

No.

You walked just a step behind Telemachus, who kept glancing over his shoulder to speak to you every few paces, his voice light, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

But it was you she focused on.

You wore your clothes differently than when she'd first arrived. They clung better now. Held shape. Your posture had changed, too—shoulders straighter, chin raised just a bit higher, like someone who'd finally realized the weight of all the eyes watching them... and started enjoying it.

And then there was the beast.

Lady.

Trotting like some smug little hound right between you and Queen Penelope—her sleek dark fur catching the light like obsidian, her white bow bobbing with each regal step. The damn thing even looked proud of herself.

Andreia set her teacup down with a clink.

"Look at her," she muttered, lips curling just enough to bare her teeth. "Strutting around like she belongs beside a queen. With that beast wedged between them like she's earned its loyalty instead of stumbling into it like a blind fool."

Her servants didn't respond. Not aloud. But Dorea's grip on her hand paused for half a breath.

Andreia didn't notice.

Her gaze never left the path.

You were laughing now—at something Penelope said, maybe. Even from this distance, Andreia could tell you weren't faking it. It wasn't polite or performative. It was light. Giddy.

It was natural.

And it burned.

Andreia reclined further into the cushioned chair, one hand reaching down lazily to stroke the head of the servant still kneeling at her feet. Her voice dropped, like a slow knife sliding from its sheath.

"She may have their smiles now," she murmured, almost more to herself than anyone else, "but smiles are easy things. Cheap."

Andreia didn't take her eyes off the courtyard. Not even when her tea cooled or the breeze picked up, tugging gently at the sheer veil tied to her braid. Her gaze was fixed, razor-sharp as it trailed the path you walked—closer to the king now, your steps quickening to match his.

Telemachus, naturally, fell right into pace beside you. As always.

And though you couldn't see him from where she sat, Andreia could still feel the way his attention lingered on you—softer than it ever was with her. So gentle it made her stomach twist.

The prince of Ithaca—the son of Odysseus, the heir of legends—looked at you like you'd hung the stars he spent his nights stargazing under. Even from the balcony, even with the space between them, Andreia could recognize that kind of gaze. She'd seen it before.

But never for her.

Her grip on the glass of watered wine tightened, fingers whitening against the stem until the vessel gave a small, warning creak. Her eyes narrowed.

"First," she muttered bitterly, "I destroy that... scrap of a lyre. And then—somehow—she go from a weepy little thing to being blessed."

She said the word like it soured on her tongue.

You'd left that courtyard in tears—she remembered it well. Watched from the shadows as you'd knelt beside the broken thing like it was a body. Watched how your fingers trembled. Watched how you hadn't even looked back at her.

And then, days later—

"Oh, now," she hissed softly, her voice laced with venom, "now she's a divine liaison."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "A servant made into a symbol of divine favor. How quaint."

She knew how Ithaca used to be. The old rules. She'd studied the politics before ever stepping foot in the palace. She knew that once upon a time—even just a few years ago—it would've been unthinkable to have a servant at a prince's side. Unseemly. Unfit. Undignified.

But now?

Now you were being escorted with them. Eating beside them. Whispering to the queen like a confidant. Walking alongside Telemachus as if you belonged there.

You weren't just being smiled at or indulged or given scraps of favor. No.

You were blessed.

Andreia's jaw tensed.

Two divine relics—two. Not one, not a whisper of favor, but the type of offerings that carved myths. That wrote them.

The Askálion was already proof enough. Its presence beside you, that silent, ever-watchful beast, was loud in the quietest of ways.

Andreia didn't need to ask where it had come from. No hunter in Ithaca could've caught it. No breeder could have tamed it. She knew the stories—had studied them, remembered them whispered in Bronte during firelit nights like warnings cloaked in wonder.

But it was the lyre that had sealed it for her.

She'd known the moment she heard it. Not when she saw it, no—that would've been too easy. Its newness, its craftsmanship, its divine sheen—all of that could've been explained away. But when you first played it during the festival, when the notes poured from your fingertips like sunlight spun into sound, Andreia had nearly dropped her goblet.

Because she'd heard it before.

In Bronte's oldest myths—ones not sung at court but kept by the temple scribes and old-world bards—there was mention of Aurelián, the lyre of Apollo's choosing.

Not of his making. No, even the gods, it said, didn't forge Aurelián. It was found, not made—plucked from the wreckage of a star that fell into the sea during the first age of man. Its frame was carved from celestial driftwood, its strings spun from golden light and bound with the breath of the Muses that could make Titans weep.

And now it was in your arms.

It wasn't coincidence. It can't be.

Andreia's  gaze followed your figure, every movement grating against her composure like a poorly strung harp.

"A beast of protection.., an instrument blessed by sunlight... and now divine title to tie it all together."

Her nails tapped rhythmically against her teacup, the sound sharper than necessary.

"As if she's caught the eye of the sun god himself."

The way she spat Apollo's name—sun god—was not with reverence, but something else. Something more bitter. More dangerous.

Her gaze flicked back toward you.

You were laughing again.

The prince was looking at you.

The queen was smiling at you.

And far above, the sky was mercilessly blue.

The other girl fanning her—a girl named Cyra—shifted where she stood, hesitating before speaking. "She doesn't stand a chance, my lady," she said gently, her voice soft and meant to soothe. "You're royalty. A true-born princess of Bronte. She's nothing but a handmaiden who got lucky—"

"Don't," Andreia snapped, her voice like flint striking stone. Cyra flinched, her fanning hand pausing mid-air.

Andreia sat forward in her chair, the movement fluid, deliberate, like a blade unsheathed.

"Don't compare that servant's luck to my bloodline," she spat, venom thick beneath her words. "And don't dare speak to me about titles as if they mean anything." Her eyes flashed as she stood abruptly, the cup in her hand trembling slightly in a stoking rage.

"She's lucky?" Andreia laughed, hollow and biting. "Tell me, where did luck get my brother? Andros—firstborn, male, the beloved heir of Bronte. He had one job. One. Woo the grieving queen, secure her hand, take her place, and the throne follows. But what does he do instead?" Her lip curled, nostrils flaring. "He squanders it. Fumbles the plan. Spends half the time simpering and the rest chasing skirts. All so I could come clean up the mess."

The handmaidens remained silent, knowing better than to speak again.

Andreia's free hand clenched at her sides, her nails digging into the fabric of her gown. "It was supposed to be simple. Penelope becomes queen-consort of Bronte, I secure a path to Telemachus, and the line is sealed. She's out of the way. I become Ithaca's queen by proxy. And instead?" Her voice dropped into a growl. "I'm still dancing on the edges. Still waiting."

The next words slipped from her like poison:

"I'm so far down the line of inheritance, I don't even make the list. After Andros had died in that stupid ambush, my parents didn't mourn—they replace him with one of my other brothers. And me? I was never considered. Not once. Not even a footnote in the line of succession."

She turned sharply, her gaze sweeping the balcony railing as if she could see the bloodlines etched into the stone.

"And now my 'destiny,'" she sneered, voice dripping with disdain, "is to be matched to some middle-aged, balding noble from a border province so my parents can tie another useless alliance. A woman with beauty and wit should command rooms. Should have her pick of kings." Her voice broke just slightly—too soft for anyone but the wind to catch. "But I'll be wasted."

Andreia's nails bit into the delicate rim of her cup, the porcelain groaning beneath the strain. Her eyes tracked the group below as you rounded the bend, Lady trotting obediently at your heel. The queen's hand hovered close to your back, a gesture of quiet intimacy, while Telemachus leaned ever so slightly toward you, his shoulder brushing yours like it had done it a thousand times before.

Andreia's jaw clenched. She didn't blink.

The brightness of the midday sun reflected off your hair, gilding you like something celestial. A low murmur of laughter drifted up as you disappeared beyond the hedges, the sound mingling with birdsong and breeze.

It made her stomach twist.

Her fingers trembled around the teacup, tightening, crushing the stem of the handle like a vice.

"No," she hissed, voice too quiet for the others to hear. "No, I refuse."

Her eyes burned, not with tears, but with something colder. Hungrier.

"I have too much to offer to be forgotten. I was raised to shape kingdoms. Not be handed off to irrelevant barons with brittle spines and aging sons. Not to smile beside some moldy borderland duke until I wither into dust."

She turned her gaze to the horizon beyond the courtyard, where the palace walls ended and the open sea began—glittering like a blade under the sun.

"Let her bask," Andreia muttered, each word edged with venom. "Let her enjoy their smiles. Their attention. Their favor."

Then, quieter—like a promise: "I'll take more than smiles when I strike."

With a sharp crack, the porcelain finally gave. Her teacup split in her hand, shards falling in quiet, deadly pieces onto her lap and the stone floor. A droplet of blood welled at the tip of her thumb, bright against her pale skin, but she didn't flinch.

She simply smiled—thin and cold.

"Even fools know never to sail through Scylla twice," she said softly, the old Bronte saying tasting like ash on her tongue. "Gods be damned if I let her become my Charybdis."

And with that, she swept the blood from her thumb, letting it smear like war paint across her lips.

A/N: here's a bit of extra scenes/plot to 35 ┃ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 ; the long awaited pov you all have been waiting for; hope you enjoy a peek into our fav pyscho's mind ❤️

Tag List: nerds4life246 ace-spades-1 uniquetravelerone alassal thesimppotato11 jackintheboxs-world kahlan170 akiqvq matchaabread danishland uselessmoonlight apad-ravya suckerforblondies jolixtreesunn dreamtheatre woncloudie byzantiumhollow kisskisskys b4ts1e sarcasticbitchsblog trashcannotbealive idkanyonealrr

[azusa89]

l did this out of boredom and enjoy

Sorry for the English

Telemachus Yandere

At first Telemachus didn't notice you, he was too busy trying to become stronger to protect his mother from the suitors.

You, a young Palace maid, were taking some clean clothes down the corridor when you saw a suitor coming towards you, so you decided to ignore him.

-Hey pretty lady- he said in a disgusting voice

no response

-I'm talking to you!- he tried to grab her wrists

Before I could react another voice said

-Take your hands off her- it was the Prince, he was pointing the sword at the man who let go of his wrists

-What are you going to do Kid?- the man said with a smile

Telemachus then ran to the suitor and managed to make a small cut on his cheek. The man looked surprised, gave an irritated look and left.

Telemachus looked at you, you were beautiful...Telemachus blushed, he broke the silence

-So...are you okay?- he asked

-I am, thank you very much Your Highness- you bow respectfully.

After this small interaction Telemachus seemed to want to get closer and closer, he talked to you frequently

with all these interactions, a feeling grew....

☆Headcanons☆

. Somewhat jealous, he doesn't like it when suitors flirt with you or any man flirts with you

. He feels enormous anger when you get close to another man

. He loves to give you gifts, from flowers from the garden to jewelry

This one was a little shorter, if you liked it, like it and you can send me requests

[primrosechronicles]

"I Fear He might be Beast.. or a Troll."

A Telemachus x Princess!Reader requested by: @luckywitchsong

Summary : You a Princess is scared, for you do not know who the identity of your fiance. Word Count : 1296 Credits to @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers

“You are to marry the son of Queen Penelope Períphron and King Odysseus the Polytropos. In three months, you will be sent to Ithaca.”

✰ ✰ ✰

You sit in your bedroom, filled with the golden glow of Apollon’s light, its warmth wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Yet, in stark contrast, your mind is a cold wasteland, destroyed by a swirling tornado of thoughts about who this man could be.

You try to think positively, You know your parents! There's no way they would marry you off to a man with no class, he must be a kind man. Not like those rude men in stories. The ones who are usually nobility—entitled, arrogant… and unhygienic. Oh gods.

You stand up and start frantically pacing around the room, thinking about who this mystery fiancé could be. What is he like? Is he really like a manchild like you thought he would be or could he be the opposite? 

A long sigh leaves your lungs as you lean on the balcony, you can only wait until the fates weave you and your future (hopefully kind) husband together. 

Meanwhile, In a distant land, a young prince gazes out towards the horizon 

The Prince sighs, longingly staring out to the sea, his elbows perched on the balcony's railings. He leans onto his hand as he daydreams about his future bride.

His parents had described his bride-to-be as a kind woman. Now, he wasn't foolish; he knew his parents understood what they were doing when choosing a bride whose kingdom's assets could benefit Ithaca. Yet, doubt remained. What if this woman was not what his parents had described?

But… she could be kind and intelligent… The thought of him marrying an intelligent and beautiful girl made his stomach burst with butterflies.

‘Oh Lady Aphrodite, guide me… ‘

3 months later….

Your ship arrived in Ithaca under the cover of night. The guards on duty had orders to provide temporary shelter for you and your companions if arrival occurred during the sleeping hours, ensuring a place to rest until morning.

You lay awake in your bed, unable to sleep as your thoughts are consumed by the identity of who you’re marrying.

These thoughts lead you to the Palace’s gardens, trying to find some comfort in this unfamiliar place. It’s cold— very cold, you rub your hands together in an attempt to generate heat but to no avail.

This weather is not helping your nerves. Mentally preparing yourself, you raise your palms upwards and pray to the Goddess of Marriage 

Hear me, Queen of the Deathless Gods, 

Consort to the Mighty Zeus

and Goddess of Marital Union, —-

“--- My Lady what are you doing..?”  You turn around and see a young man with leaves in his hair and a blue blanket wrapped around his frame. You look at the man from the side of your eye. “Nothing.” You say in response, getting back to your prayer.

I seek your wisdom and guidance.

Please grant me a good husband.

A husband who is loyal— “My lady… while praying to the Gods is important, I feel as though that the God or Goddess you are praying to will be much happier if you weren’t shivering while praying..” 

“I am not shivering.” You say as your shoulders shake from the chill of the wind. You raise your palms up to continue praying.

A husband who is— “But, you are... Shivering”

You let out an annoyed exhale, “I am not.” 

“You are…”

“I am not!” 

“You are!”

‘Sorry Queen Hera, I fear my prayer will have to wait.’ You internally pray as you lower your palms. 

You turn around, annoyed; and raise an eyebrow at the man. “Good Evening um– Ithaca has harsh winds this time of year, I recommend you come back inside where it is warmer, or atleast have something to keep you warm…” He says as he offers his blue blanket to you.

You furrow your brows in suspicion, slowly backing away from the mysterious man. “I’m quite alright thank you…” but then suddenly, a wave of cold air washes over the palace. You shiver and instinctively hug yourself with your arms to shield yourself from the cold.

The young man walks beside you and offers the blanket again. “You say you don’t need it but your shaking shoulders tell me otherwise; please take it, I insist.” 

You shakily reach out and take the blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Thank you,” You whisper. “For the blanket…”

You and the man stare out into the horizon, Selene’s moon casting an ethereal glow onto Poseidon’s deep blue sea.

“Your hands were stretched out… Were you praying?” “Yes.”

In the corner of your eye, you see him turn to you. “Why?” He asks.

“Well that’s oddly personal.” You look him up and down. “None of your business.”

You and the man stiffly stare back out into the distance, the whooshing of waves filling the awkward silence. You tiredly sigh, maybe you shouldn’t have responded rudely. “Because I am afraid, I am afraid of who or what he is, my parents have not told me any details of who he is.”

Your hands grip onto the blanket tighter. “I am afraid of my future, women who are often in arranged marriages tend to have husbands that are… goblins…” 

“A goblin?” He asks, “or a brute.” 

He raises an eyebrow and clicks his tongue in thought. “Who are we speaking of?”

“The prince.”

“Not a peep of information from my mother and father, clearly they are hiding the fact that the Prince is a goblin or a brute.”

He smirks. “Understood.”

You gasp, a metaphorical candle lighting up above you. “Maybe you could assist me in running away from my fate!” 

“A question please my Lady— you do not like brutes or.. Goblins? Does looks happen to be an important quality in marrying you..?”

“I do not care what he looks like, what I don’t like is having no knowledge of my future husband. Now—”

You walk along the side of the palace and spot a horse with a saddle on it. “Do you see that horse over there? By the torch? With your help I believe I could escape my goblin husband!”

“You want me to help you run to that horse so you may escape…?”

“I quite literally just said that.”

“Won't your entourage notice your absence?” 

You wave your hand “I shall worry about that later, now– make haste!” 

He breathes out and shakes his head. “I… have no desire to help you.”

You raise your eyebrows and stare at him in disbelief. “I am a maiden in need of saving.. You refuse? You refuse to help a maiden in distress?” 

“I refuse when that maiden in distress is trying to horsenap a horse so that she won't have to marry me…” He says softly, a soft smile gracing his features. “Hello ____.” 

A crashing tsunami of realization hurls into you. “Oh gods… Forgive me my Prince— I did not know..” You attempt a bow but he stops you in your tracks.

“Please, Call me Telemachus” He softly holds your shoulders, guiding your posture so that you would face him. “Not ‘My Prince’ or ‘Your Majesty’ Only… Telemachus.” 

“Please Your Majesty—” “Telemachus.” He corrects you.

You cough to clear your throat. “Telemachus forgive me, If I had known that you were my fiance—” “You would’ve what? Not have told me your plans that you would steal a horse..?” 

“....Well yes.” You say, He chuckles in response. “I deeply apologize, Your Majesty.” “Telemachus… well yes— ‘your Majesty’ but to you..? Always just… Telemachus.” 

You exhale 3 months of anxiousness, what-ifs, and fears out of your body. He wasn’t a brute after all. He was just Telemachus.

A/N : Chapter 2 will come out soon (not rlly soon but it is in the works!) sorry for not posting guys school has rlly been hectic lately.

[dorkyfangirl24]

AHHHH

Falling for you

P1 P2

Sum up : Telemachus is fighting between the feeling in his chest, and the duty he has to fulfill. Tomorrow, he has to leave on a diplomatic mission, and his heart tells him to say goodbye to reader. But his mind can't formulate it. Will he gather up the courage to tell her ? Will he need a little help ? How will reader react to the announce ?

The sea breeze tugged at Telemachus’s cloak as he wandered the cliffs near the shore, the waves rumbling below like distant thunder. The moon hung heavy and full, spilling light across the water in silver ribbons. Athena walked beside him, silent.

He wasn’t sure why he was out here. Tomorrow, at dawn, he would leave on a diplomatic mission to seek supplies and alliances. It wasn’t dangerous — not really — but it would take him away from home for weeks.

He thought about you all day.

All day, he thought about saying goodbye to you. He even tried once. You were helping the queen in the hall, hair falling in your eyes as you argued with one of the suitors. He lingered, waiting for a moment to speak, but the words died in his throat. He left before you noticed him. The thought of leaving without a word gnawed at him now.

He hated himself for it. You weren’t even kind to him most days. You argued. You rolled your eyes when he spoke. You called him a prince like it was an insult.

So why did he feel like he’d be leaving something behind if he didn’t see you one more time?

“Something weighs on you,” Athena said, her voice smooth and low.

Telemachus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t bother pretending otherwise. She always knew. “It’s… her.” He hesitated, then laughed bitterly. “It’s always her. I don’t even know why. She’s infuriating, stubborn, and half the time she looks like she wants to throw me off a balcony.”

Athena hummed in amusement. “And yet, you can’t stop thinking about her.”

“No.” His voice dropped to something quieter, almost ashamed. “I can’t.” They walked a few more steps before he spoke again, voice low and raw. “I wanted to tell her I’m leaving. I wanted to… I don’t even know. Say goodbye? But I couldn’t.”

Athena glanced at him sidelong, her expression unreadable. If gods could feel nostalgia, this was it.

Athena said nothing, though her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than necessary. He reminded her of Odysseus.

The way he walked now — restless, heart tangled in knots he didn’t understand — it was the same way his father once walked these shores, back when Penelope was still a distant hope and not yet his queen. But Athena didn’t say it. It wasn’t her place to.

A flicker of movement below caught Telemachus’s eye. He stopped, squinting down into the cove. It was about nine feet down, where the stream fed into a still, moonlit pool. The water glimmered like glass.

And then he saw you.

For a second, he thought he imagined it — that his mind, so tangled with you all day, had conjured a vision.

But it was you.

You moved through the water like a spirit of the sea, the moonlight tracing every line of you. Your hair, dark and wet, clung to your skin, shoulders bare above the water. Scars carved across your back and arms, old wounds from battles fought. He should’ve thought they ruined you. Somehow, they only made you more beautiful. Like proof you were too strong to break.

The breath left his lungs. You looked like something from a dream — a nymph, or a goddess, or maybe just the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.

Athena glanced down, saw the way he stared, and decided he needed a push.

A literal one.

Telemachus barely had time to choke out a startled sound before his foot slipped — or was pushed — off the edge. He plunged into the water with a graceless, spluttering crash.

The cold hit him like a slap. His limbs flailed, and he surfaced, gasping for air, hair plastered to his face. For a second, he didn’t see you. Then he heard the splash, the hurried movement, and his stomach twisted.

You were hiding. He blinked water from his eyes and saw you half-submerged behind a rock, barely more than your head visible. Your eyes were wide, and for the first time, you weren’t glaring at him or spitting insults.

You were scared.

He realized too late — you weren’t wearing much, and the water didn’t exactly hide you. His face burned.

You stared at him like he was a monster that fell from the sky. “Do you—” Your voice came out shaky, breathless. You swallowed hard. “Do you always fall out of the gods-damned sky, or is this new?”

Telemachus coughed, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. “Only on special occasions.” Your brows pulled together in confusion and lingering panic. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed, heart pounding. “I… I need to talk to you.”

Your voice was sharper this time, though it still wavered. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around, Telemachus.”

He turned so fast he nearly dunked himself again. Behind him, he heard the sound of you moving — water splashing, the rustle of fabric, and muffled cursing under your breath. He stared hard at the moonlit waves, face blazing with heat.

His heart wouldn’t stop racing.

After what felt like forever, your voice came again, quieter this time. “Okay. You can turn back now.” He turned slowly.

You stood there, damp hair dripping over your shoulder, fully dressed — though the fabric still clung to your skin. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, but there was no hiding the flush on your cheeks, even in the moonlight. “Well?” you asked, voice low and wary. “What did you want to say?”

Telemachus swallowed hard. He didn’t know the right words — didn’t even know what he wanted to say, really — but he knew he couldn’t leave without saying something. “I’m leaving tomorrow.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. “At dawn. A diplomatic mission.”

Your expression didn’t change, but he saw the flicker of something in your eyes — surprise, maybe. Or disappointment. He wasn’t sure.

“And you swam all the way out here to tell me that?” He gave a breathless, awkward laugh. “No. I was supposed to tell you earlier. But I didn’t. And I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

For a moment, you didn’t answer. You just stared at him, water dripping from your hair onto your shoulder. Then, finally, your voice came, quieter than before. “You’re an idiot, Telemachus.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His lips tugged into a crooked smile. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I am.”

The night felt endless. You tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn’t come. Your mind wouldn’t stop circling back to him — to Telemachus. You told yourself you didn’t care. That you only hid to the cove because he startled you, and you only stayed to hear him out because Penelope would’ve wanted you to. But that was a lie.

The truth was harder to swallow.

The truth was… you didn’t want him to leave.

The truth was… you couldn’t stop thinking about how he looked last night — his dark hair dripping wet, strands sticking to his face and neck, his tunic clinging to his body like a second skin. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He was broad-shouldered, strong, his face sharp and noble, eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite place.

Gods, when did he get so—

You cut the thought off with a frustrated groan, shoving your face into your pillow.

Stop it.

But your mind wouldn’t stop. Not even when you wanted it to.

It wasn’t just how he looked. It was the way he spoke to you. The way his voice sounded raw and unsure when he said he didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. The way he looked at you — like you mattered. Like you weren’t just a loyal fighter or a thorn in his side, but… something more.

You hated him for that. You hated him because now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The room was dim, shadows stretching against the walls, but you noticed the light shifting. The first hint of gold bled through the cracks.

The sun was rising. Your chest tightened.

He was leaving.

Your heart knew before your mind caught up. Your body moved on its own, throwing the blankets aside, your feet hitting the cold floor. You barely noticed. Before you could think, you were running.

The docks were alive with activity despite the early hour. Sailors hauled supplies onto the ship. The wind tugged at the sails, eager to pull the boat out to sea.

Your lungs burned from the run, but you barely felt it. Your eyes darted through the crowd, frantic, searching —

And then you saw him.

He stood near the edge of the dock, speaking with one of the captains. His armor gleamed in the soft dawn light, bronze catching the first golden rays. His sword was strapped to his side, his cloak rippling behind him. He looked like a prince — no, like a warrior. Like a king.

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe. As if he felt you, he turned.

His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. His mouth parted slightly, as if he meant to say something, but stopped himself.

You froze. What were you even doing here? You didn’t have the words to explain it. You didn’t even know what you wanted to say. You stared at each other — him standing on the dock, you standing on the worn wooden path, the sea breeze tugging at both of you.

He was waiting for you to speak. But nothing came.

His brows pulled together, concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you—” You panicked.

Before he could finish, you reached into your hair, fingers fumbling. Your heart hammered so loudly you thought it might drown out the sound of the waves. Your hand closed around the familiar metal. Without thinking, you yanked the pin free.

It was small, worn from time and use — a simple bronze hairpin, shaped like a wolf. Your father’s last gift to you before he sailed with Odysseus. It was the only thing of his you had left.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You marched forward and slammed it against his chest, forcing him to take it. His hand instinctively closed around it, startled.

“Take it.” Your voice came out steadier than you felt. “Keep it.”

His eyes flicked between the pin and your face. “I… I can’t. This is yours—”

“You have to.” Your voice wavered, but your gaze didn’t. “If you’re carrying something that matters to me, then you have to come back alive and well to return it.”

His throat bobbed, as though he wanted to argue — but the words wouldn’t come. He looked at the pin again, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Slowly, he closed his fist around it. He held it like it was something precious.

When he looked at you again, the dawn was rising behind him, light spilling over the sea. It caught your face, the wind tugging at your hair, the sun’s first rays filtering through your irises.

He stared, mesmerized — his breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he swore he saw his reflection in your eyes. He wondered if he could always be like that. If he could always be the only one in your eyes.

His voice came out low, steady, and serious. “I’ll come back. I'll give it back to you. I swear it.”

Your throat tightened. You nodded, forcing a smile — but you didn’t trust your voice to answer.

There were words you wanted to say. Words you didn’t even know how to form. They caught behind your teeth, too big for your pride to let out.

So you swallowed them down.

Telemachus stepped back, his gaze lingering on you for a heartbeat longer than it should have. Then he bowed — lower than he ever had before — and turned toward the boat.

You watched as he boarded, watched as the ship pulled away from the dock. He didn’t look away from you until the wind carried him too far to see. You stood there long after the ship disappeared beyond the horizon.

You told yourself you weren’t waiting for him to come back.

But you didn’t believe it.

Neither did your heart.

Part 3 ?

dividers : @strangergraphics @saradika 

[fanficsat12am]

Where the little lamb frolics (the little wolf follows)

As blood is spilled in the palace halls, Telemachus' greatest fight is not against the suitors, but against the helplessness that comes as he watches his beloved in the grasp of danger wc: 1.6k warnings: mentions of blood, violence, death, and implications of harassment credits of the art goes to the wonderful @gigizetz and @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

As you ran through the palace's corridors, the sound of screams echoed off its marbled walls. Arrows sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, followed by a sickening squelch, a piercing shriek, and then, with grim finality, a heavy thud. The suitors who had parasitized the halls for decades were now either clambering to get to the doors or dead, their blood staining the previously white floors. 

“Telemachus!” You frantically called out, head whipping in every direction as you continued to scan every face that passed by you in your search. 

Your terror mounted with every step you took. The thought of your beloved joining the bodies lying on the ground sent a wave of dread that engulfed the pit of your stomach. 

As you passed one of the palace’s storerooms, you heard the unmistakable striking of swords. Despite your instincts telling you to run, you knew that even if there was the slightest chance he’d be in there, you’d rather take that over nothing. Running inside, you find Telemachus locked in a fierce struggle, battling off more than a dozen suitors with a fiery determination in his eyes. The sounds of clashing swords and desperate grunts filled the air as your betrothed fought with a fire that left you both in awe and terror, each move calculated and precise, yet the odds seemed stacked against him. 

You sighed in relief to see that the boy was at least alive, but the moment of respite was cut short as one of his opponents successfully disarmed him, his weapon skidding to the side. 

Before you could call out to him, a rough tug at the back of your chiton cuts you off, sending you stumbling backward into something. Your blood ran cold as an arm wrapped around your torso and arms with a vice-like grip, their hot breath fanning the nape of your neck. As you tried to writhe your body from your captor's hold, you were met by the cold metal of a blade that pressed deeper into your throat with every move. 

The man called out to a familiar face that stood in the middle of the room, Melanthius. You’d recognized him to be the king’s goatherd who provided the suitors the finest food and bent to their every will. His loyalty to the king had long been drowned, if it wasn’t obvious enough by how he had practically become one with the other suitors.  A disgusting grin formed on the corners of Melanthius’ mouth as his gaze met yours, a dangerous glint shining through.

“It seems we’ve caught ourselves a little lamb” he taunts, stalking towards you. 

Little Lamb. Telemachus knew that nickname anywhere. 

His words made Telemachus’ head turn sharply your way, his eyes widening, brows drawing together. Despite all the training and lessons taught to him by the Goddess of Wisdom herself, his heart will always trump his mind when it comes to you. He felt the world stop as he saw the glistening metal drawn against your skin. 

The momentary distraction had given the other suitors ample time to capture him, seizing his arms as their fingers dug into his skin like iron chains before pushing him onto his knees. He struggled against their hold, his gaze locked on you as his chest continued to rise and fall in ragged breaths. 

Melanthius lets out a low chuckle, “Wherever the little lamb frolics, the little wolf will always follow suit.”  

Each stride Melanthius took felt like a weight pressing down on Telemachus' chest, and with every inch the man drew nearer, Telemachus found himself aching—not just wanting, but needing to be by your side. In the prince’s eyes, the scene before him was no different from that of an innocent lamb poised to be pounced upon by a pack of ravenous wolves. 

“Don’t you dare lay a hand on them!” he screamed, lurching in every way possible if it meant getting to you. Melanthius turned to look at the struggling prince, finding his futile display entertaining. 

“You have no power here, young prince,” he snickered, pausing from his advance to you and instead walking to him, bending down to meet his eyes. 

Telemachus glared at the man, “You may bleed the palace dry of its fortunes for all I care. But no harm shall befall my mother and my beloved for I swear by the gods that I shall make you and your men pay with your life” he growled, the fire of his fury continuing to blaze like the forge of Hephaestus that wanted to consume all that dared to stand in his path to you. 

The suitor laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes glinted with a mix of arrogance and amusement as he stood again, making his way back to you. His footsteps fell heavily on the floor as he drew nearer as the air between you thickened with a tension so palpable it could almost be touched. 

“Oh, Little Wolf, did you, in your naivety, truly think of them as fools who seek only treasure?” his voice was even and relaxed, masking how poisonous his words truly were.

“Your presence here has doomed the old king. And once we’ve slain him, noblemen shall rightfully take the throne. Along with it, Ithaca, the crown…” he pauses, taking hold of your chin. His stare held a sinister gleam, “and more.”

“No!” Telemachus screamed, the word cracking in the air, sharp and jagged.

Yet, beneath the force of his cry, there was an unmistakable sense of vulnerability, for he understood his helplessness. Despite having the goddess Athena by his side, he wasn't strong enough to shield you. And now, because of that, you were going to suffer. Amid the echo of his cry, there came a sickening squelch followed by a grunt of pain, laced with disbelief.

The grin that had once spread across Melanthius' face had twisted into a frown, crimson blood trailing from the corners. No one had noticed the king who now stood behind him, the attacker’s blade piercing through his chest. 

Melanthius sputtered, the thick liquid rising in his throat making the task of speaking almost impossible.

“M…Mer-” 

“Mercy?” Odysseus growled, his breath heaved as his teeth grated together. Beneath the unkempt locks of his hair concealed a gaze that flickered with intense rage. 

“Mercy?” In a split second, an arrow had found its way to another suitor’s head, the sight leaving the others terrified. 

The hands that once held Telemachus with a firm, iron grip had now loosened, now frozen in fear of their inescapable death. You saw the prince move with a speed so unmatched, it was as though the gods had blessed him with the swiftness of Hermes himself. For a brief moment, his eyes locked with yours, and you saw it—the same burning fury that consumed his father. It was wild, untamed, a storm that raged in the depths of his gaze. The prince was no longer a son or a man—he was a force of nature, unstoppable and fierce, bound only by the fierce will to protect what he loved.

With a speed that could only be born from the gods, he shot toward the nearest dory, his hand steady as he seized the weapon. In one fluid motion, he hurled it toward your attacker, its flight a blur of lethal intent. His once-compassionate regard for the suitors had vanished. Mercy had been swallowed whole by a tidal wave of unrelenting vengeance, a wrath so fierce it seemed to rise from the depths of the underworld itself. 

You let out a shaking breath of relief as the chilling bite of the blade finally withdrew from your skin, leaving behind a lingering ache like the ghost of its touch. The sharpness of the metal still seemed to hum in the air, a haunting reminder of the danger you’d narrowly escaped. Your body trembled, weak from the shock, as if your very soul had been tested. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, threatening to give way as your legs buckled, but before you could falter, Telemachus’s strong arms enveloped you, pulling you into the shelter of his protective embrace. 

As you pulled away, his hands gently cupped your face, tilting it with a quiet urgency.

"Are you alright, my love? Did they hurt you? Please, tell me you're safe."

His eyes searched every inch of your skin, scanning for any trace of injury, any sign of pain that might have been hidden. The touch was tender, yet the fear in his eyes was unmistakable. The world seemed to fall away as he focused, desperate to ensure that nothing, nothing had touched his beloved in any way that might cause hurt for it will only further cement that he had failed. Placing your hands atop his, you give him a gentle squeeze. 

"I am well, Tele. Do not worry—" The words were cut short as a suitor’s shrill scream pierced the air, sending a shiver through the stillness.  Without hesitation, Telemachus pulled you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as he shielded you from the chaos. As your cheek pressed against the warmth of his chest, you could feel the rapid thrum of his heart, pounding like a war drum in the silence between you. The scent of sweat and earth clung to him, a stark contrast to the cold fear that had gripped you only moments before. His body trembled slightly, not from weakness, but from the tension that came with knowing danger still lurked nearby. Yet, within the strength of his embrace, you knew there was no place safer in all the world.

"As long as I live, I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it to you," he whispers, drawing you closer to him for he will not make the same mistake again.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Soft Feathers, Softer Kisses 🦉

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm soooo excited for y'all to see this!!!!

My first time writing for Telemachus and EPIC in general so please go easy on me 🥲

This was born from my need to smooch Tele. He's so cute 🥹

*the art is not mine, I got it from pinterest, if anyone knows the artists lmk pls!*

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You're betrothed to the prince of Ithaca. His father is lost at sea and 108 suitors are pushing his mother to choose a new king. When one of them insults the queen, a fight breaks loose, and you end up fiercely defending your lover with a determined owl at your side.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The sound of your sandals on the smooth palace floor echoed off the marble walls, the fabric of your chiton that wasn't bunched up in your hands was brushing against your legs while you hurried towards the hall.

The commotion had managed to make its way through the entire building like a breeze of the salty sea air.

Still, the news reached you later than you'd have liked.

Worry and anger twisted in your chest, a feeling like countless arrows piercing your heart. Your lungs were burning, no breath managing to get enough oxygen in your blood.

You had to hurry.

They would eat him alive.

You were well aware of the suitors. The 108 men who'd grown stubborn roots in the palace and refused to leave without getting a chance.

The king had been gone for so long, leaving his throne empty and his family behind. It had been two decades since he sailed off to war.

Not many believed he was even still among the living, instead thinking he was slaving away in his place in the Underworld.

The queen managed to keep the kingdom from ruin for years, ever since her beloved left, and yet they insisted on a new a king, a new man to wear the crown and sit upon the throne.

A new man to take Penelope as his wife.

The moment they showed up at the gates you'd stared at them with disgust, boring into them with your sharp gaze.

None of them were fit to lead, let alone rule an entire kingdom.

The queen stalled and stalled, the hope of her husband's return heavy on her heart.

However, the suitors soon grew impatient. Causing havoc within the walls of the palace, pounding on Penelope's doors, threatening bloodshed if she didn't choose a new king.

And now, your betrothed, the prince of Ithaca, was caught in the middle of it all because he was cursed with a heart too big for his body.

When you turned the corner of the hallway, you were met with a sight that made your heart shatter and wrath boil in your veins.

The suitors had circled Telemachus, leaving him trapped with no way out while Antinous stood over him, broad shoulders throwing shadows on the face of your beloved.

He was beaten and bloodied, heaving while trying to fight back.

Although a small, proud smile cracked on your face when you saw some of the men limping or nursing their bruised eyes.

Even Antinous was left with crimson streaks dripping from his mouth, staining his teeth. Your feet were carrying you further in their direction, a mindless action.

Panic struck you when Antinous raised his hand to deliver another blow.

Without thinking, you called out to him, rage tinting your voice accompanied by the angry grinding of your teeth.

"Antinous!" You yelled, a scowl on your face as you forced your way through the ocean of suitors.

"Get away from him!"

The giant man lowered his hand with a deep chuckle and turned to face you with a smirk that made the previously boiling blood to freeze.

"If it isn't the little princess. Come to save your prince, have you? I swear it's the other way around."

The grin that sat on his face, his bloodstained teeth exposed, made bile rise up your throat.

The men chuckled, making Telemachus' head fall forward in shame.

You payed them no mind, rushing to your lover.

Giving Antinous a look that could kill, you kneeled down next to Telemachus and cupped his face, a worried crease forming between your brows while you gently brushed your thumb over the blooming bruise on his cheek to soothe it.

"Look at you.. you're bleeding!" You gasped, quickly using your chiton to wipe away the blood on his face.

"I'm fine, I promise."

Telemachus gave you an unconvincing smile, followed by a wince. The worried look on your face tugged at his heart.

You looked like you were about to cry, and he hated to think that he was the reason.

"You're not fine. You're bruised and-and what if you broke a bone? How did this even happen? They knew there'd be consequences if they-"

the words just spilled out of you, the concern for your lover was something you could no longer contain.

He cupped your cheek and smiled weakly.

"My love, please. I assure you, I'm alright-"

He was cut off by Antinous, a scoff falling from his split lips. You scowled again and rose from your knees, a panicked expression appearing on your beloved's face.

"No, don't-"

Telemachus grasped at your hand, only for you to gently tug it from his grip as you approached Antinous.

Only when you made your way over to the grinning man did you notice a big owl circling the suitors, flying high towards the tall ceiling.

You spared it a glance, noting the magnificent coloring of its feathers and the bright eyes filled with something you could only describe as a sense of justice.

Not once had you see such determination in an animal, but it managed to put your mind at ease a little.

"You filthy dog! Who do you think you are?! He is your prince, whether you like it or not. And you have no right-" you snarled, raising your hand to point a finger at him.

He quickly caught your wrist in his fierce grip, a deep frown sitting on his face.

Antinous glanced at Telemachus, who was holding his aching side trying to pull himself off the ground, before averting his eyes back to you.

"He doesn't look very princely to me."

The smirk he sported was enough to make the fire in your chest spread even more.

"You-" you sneered only to be interrupted by Antinous again.

"What? Hm? What will you do?"

"Stop." Telemachus heaved, supporting himself on a marble pillar.

You didn't let yourself be intimidated by him and rivaled him with a look just as sharp.

"There's a special place in Tarturus for you, Antinous. If he'd even allow it." You spoke quietly but firmly, feeling satisfaction bloom in your heart at his reaction.

Antinous scowled, tightening his grip around your wrist.

"He," he began, "is dead."

You smirked, a scoff making its way past your lips.

"You better pray to the gods. Lady Tyche is not on your side. You'll be lucky enough if he even grants you a way to the Underworld. I hope you have enough gold on hand. Because the only way you're getting across the Styx is in pieces." You spat at him, venom dripping from your tongue.

Antinous bared his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes as he raised his other hand in the air, presumably to strike you.

"Get."

Telemachus' voice boomed through the hall, a scorned look on his face.

"Your hands. Off of her." He sneered, pushing himself away from the pillar.

"Do you want another beating, boy?" The giant man roared, almost crushing your wrist in his hand.

Down came your feathered friend, swooping in with its sharp claws and a chilling screech, successfully tearing open a new scar across Antinous' eye. He cried out and dropped your wrist, clutching his face instead.

The other men quickly drew their swords, swinging at the bird, only to miss and receive a peck from its beak against any vulnerable spot.

The owl evaded the suitors' weapons with such grace and struck back with such vigor that you were almost mesmerized.

"Αγάπη μου." *(my love)

Telemachus' gentle call for you snapped you out of your haze.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, worried Antinous had caused you any harm. You stared at him, your lips parted.

"I... no. No, I'm alright. We should leave." You said hurried, supporting his weight while you dragged him down an opposite corridor.

You spared the suitors and the mysterious owl a last glance, a smirk tugging at your lips at the sight of 108 men being defeated by a bird.

Antinous caught your gaze, and he snarled at you, still holding his eye.

"Next time.." he called out after you, "you're dead."

The threat sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but he was quickly put back in line by the owl, who promptly delivered a peck to the top of his head.

With a small smile playing on your face, you led your beloved back to his rooms to take care of his wounds.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Back in your chambers, you knelt in front of Telemachus, a worried crease between your brows while you gently held a damp linen cloth to his swollen and split knuckles.

The pure white fabric was stained with the crimson blood of your lover, a sting in your heart.

Telemachus sighed and took your chin in his hand, tilting your head to look him in the eyes.

"Λουλούδι μου, your expression pains me. I'd rather see your heartwarming smile." He spoke with a small grin, hissing when his busted lip reopnend and the blood began pouring once more. *(my flower)

Quickly, you pressed the cloth to his mouth, a deep frown on your face.

"And your state pains me. You-... You could've died. These are vicious, feral men, and as much as I don't doubt your ability to stand your ground, 108 against 1.... the odds weren't on your side." You replied, such sadness in your eyes it made Telemachus' heart ache.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if..." you sighed deeply, tears threatening to fall from your lashline while your head fell forward.

His gentle hands cupped your face, the rag in your grasp long forgotten.

"But I'm okay. I promise you, my love, it's barely a scratch." A smile cracked on his face and you couldn't help but chuckle, followed by a sniffle.

"You have a larger heart than all those men combined." You whispered, pressing your palm right above his beating heart.

Telemachus cupped your hand and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell shut at the sensation as you melted further into his touch.

"Besides," he broke the silence, a smirk on his lips, "I had help."

He glanced towards his balcony and you followed his line of sight, being met with the owl resting contently on the railing, curiosity in its bright eyes.

"Yes," you chuckled, rising to your feet and walking towards the creature, gently dragging Telemachus behind you by his hand, "your mysterious feathered friend. Care to introduce me?"

"Right. Her name's Ath-"

he was cut off when the owl screeched at him and furiously flapped her wings. He startled and chuckled nervously, clearing his throat.

"I-I meant A... Alena. Yes. Her name's Alena."

If an owl had shoulders and they could sag, this is what you'd imagine it'd look like.

You laughed softly, watching as the bird narrowed her sharp eyes at Telemachus. He swallowed thickly and gave her an awkward smile.

"Well, Thank you." You said sincerely, smiling when the owl bowed her head at you.

What a curious creature.

"We should get you some ointments for those cuts and bruises."

You turned back to your beloved.

"I told you, I'm totally fi- ow."

He winced, holding his side that would undoubtedly bloom with purples and blues come evening. You sighed softly and shook your head at him.

"You're too sweet for your own good sometimes."

You caressed his cheekbone and pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, minding his injuries. He hummed into the kiss, resting his hands on your waist.

Lost in your embrace, the owl made another sound, something closer to the typical hoot, averting your attention to her.

She ruffled her feathers and with a last glance at the both of you she took off into sky. With a content expression you watched her glisten in the afternoon sun.

Telemachus had a bright smile on his face and waved after her, watching as she flew into the sunset, disappearing behind the horizon.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Please let me know what you thought! <3

More of my stuff -> 💫

I think you wanna see this @withonly-sweetheart @allysunny 👀

Thank you so so so much to @vampkennedy for assisting me with the translations 🩷

[lotus-acid-trip]

hi! I hope you don’t mind me asking but may I request a Telemachus x fem reader where when ody returns and is being made fun of by the suitors while still in this begger disguise yn starts fighting off the suitors and yelling at them for being rude and maybe later joins ody while he is hunting them down and Telemachus has a love sick look while watching yn just like ody did for Penelope back when they were younger before he married her and after seeing how cool and awesome of a warrior yn is later ody turns to his son and says “I aprove of this one 😏” and poor Telemachus is just like 😳 all flustered and adorable what can I say Telemachus is a sweetie 🥰

feel free to ignore if you want to hope you have a good rest of your day thank you ☺️

“I approve of this one.”

Telemachus x Reader

[Epic The Musical]

oneshot

fluff

This is my first proper romantic reader insert fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Odysseus sat at the entrance of the courtyard under the shade of a large olive tree as he silently observed the numerous suitors scattered across the courtyard in idle chatter. Is this really what had become of his home while he was gone? It was baffling just how ungrateful and disrespectful all these guests were. He worried for the state of his palace after being infested with all these unwelcome guests for so many years. It must have been so difficult on Penelope and Telemachus to deal with all of them, having to feed and house them along with dealing with their pitiful attempts at courting his wife. It was a wonder why the suitors still haven’t been driven out by Telemachus yet.

His hand fiddled with the small wooden bowl in his hands. Odysseus was disguised as an old beggar, but as much as he wanted to reveal himself right then and there he needed to be patient and play it smart. He didn’t have anything other than an old knife hidden in his clothes to defend himself with and he was probably lacking a lot of proper nutrients and sustenance after being out at sea for so long with food of limited quality and quantity. If he were to fight all these suitors right now, he was sure to fail. Not only do they have an advantage in numbers, it was obvious they were well fed, and all the used training equipment seen around the palace was all he needed to know the suitors could fight. If Odysseus wanted to win, he needed to stick to the plan, which meant playing his part as an old beggar.

A suitor passed by him devouring a chicken leg and he held out his bowl to him. It would be a good opportunity to not only learn more about the state of his palace and family, but to also know just what his family has been up to in the past years. “Would you care to spare a bit of food for this old man?” The suitor tilted his head to look down at Odysseus for a moment before raising a brow. “And what exactly is this homeless old man doing in a palace like this? Surely your life hasn’t fallen so far into poverty that you’d go scrounging for scraps in the homes of royalty.” He leaned back against the tree, hands crossing over his legs. “Well, that wasn’t exactly my plan. I was just walking by but with the heat of the sun and with a body as frail and weak as mine, I just had to take a break under the shade of this mighty tree. I was always curious of what happened in the lives of royalty anyway.” He said as he looked up at the leaves and branches. He remembers planting it so many years ago to see how to take care of an olive tree as preparation for making his and Penelope’s marital bed. It's grown so much since then, and he wonders just how much Telemachus has as well. “Well, since you have so much spare time to just wander around doing nothing, why don’t you bring us all a meal or two, all the way from inside the palace’s pantry. You want some food? Work for it, old man.”

Odysseus raised a hand waving off the offer. “Ah, but there might be one small problem. I am just an old beggar, remember? I don’t know anything of the layout of the palace. I’m sorry, but I must decline. Can’t you just ask a servant to help you instead?” The suitor seemed to get irritated at his reply. “Ha! Yeah right, those servants can barely do anything right. They never bring the food on time and always seem to be short on stock. Not even their pathetic prince seems to know what he’s doing.” He stared at the suitor judgmentally. “ ‘Pathetic prince’ you say? Bold words for someone who’s staying in his palace.” The suitor looked at him as if he had just said something audacious instead of common sense. “Listen old man, we’re the guests here, not them. Do you not understand basic hospitality?” Odysseus narrowed his eyes at the suitor. He knew his palace, his servants and the workforce in it. They aren’t lazy or incompetent, if they were they wouldn’t be serving his family. Not to mention, if there wasn’t enough livestock there were plenty of skilled hunters and hunting dogs to accompany them. His memories of old hunts with Argos and others were more than enough proof of that.

“Of course I do. Perhaps instead of trying to defend your impudence against the prince, you could put away your prideful hurbis for a moment and just lend me even an inch of the food you already have on you. For someone relying on the shared hospitality of someone else for their own comfort, you sure don’t seem to be able to do the same.” The suitor’s bored annoyance quickly morphed into thinly veiled anger. “Listen you old derelict, need I remind you that this is not your courtyard you are resting in? This is not your abode and I do not tolerate your insults. For someone who seems to preach so strongly for returning hospitality, you don’t seem too keen on basic respect.” Odysseus hid his amusement at the irony with indifference. “Although that may be true, last I checked this isn’t your home either.” That statement alone seemed to be enough to push him over the edge into full blown rage. Odysseus jumped away from the suitor’s flying fist as it hit the trunk of the tree where his head used to be. “You know, for someone so insistent on how they have difficulty doing physical activities you’re awfully quick to move.” The suitor began to walk towards him, his larger form towering over him and casting a shadow that engulfed Odysseus’s entire form. “Listen here old man. If you think you can just run off after that impudence, your mind must be as deteriorated as your age.” Odysseus continued to back up, hand immediately searching for the knife he hid. A chill crept up his spine when his back hit something. Turning around, it was another suitor, the others beginning to close in on him. Fuck, he messed up. The suitor he first talked to grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted him up to his face so Odysseus could face him. “Now, I think it's time that you finally learned a long needed lesson on hospitality and what happens when you don’t respect your host-“

“Hey! What the hell is all this racket?” Odysseus never turned his head away from the suitor, but averted his gaze towards the newcomer. A woman emerged from inside the palace and stared at the scene before her in a moment of silence before her once confused gaze immediately morphed into an infuriated wrath that could rival the suitor’s own rage. “Antinous, what do you think you’re doing! Gods above and below, has no one ever taught you to respect your elders?” She marched on towards the both of them, unshaken by any visible fear at the obvious violent intent of the suitors. She gripped the suitor’s, now known as Antinous, wrist and forcefully yanked it away from him, letting Odysseus fall to the ground. Antinous opened his mouth, ready to yell at her but the woman cut him off as she glared coldly at him. “The queen is watching us.” She said as she stared into the suitors eyes as if daring him to try anything. The mention of Penelope is all he needed to whip his head towards the balcony he knows she always loved to use to watch the courtyard. And there she was, elegant and poised, watching with a composed face as she always does. He could see how she’s changed from when he last saw her, the small streaks of white in her hair that weren’t there before, the wrinkles and tired eyes. But he didn’t care, for it was his Penelope, and Odysseus felt like he was falling in love all over again.

Penelope observed them silently, looking at each person one by one before her eyes eventually met his. For a moment, it felt like time froze and they did nothing but stare at each other. It was like the world itself was holding its breath. It was the smallest difference in her eyes that made his chest swell with warmth. Those indifferent calculated eyes that always seemed to be studying every little detail softened for a moment, her composed face faltering for a split millisecond to look at him with the same eyes that looked at him with so much affection and appreciation when he told her how he’d tackle the challenge she gave him. The tension in the air was so thick, yet only he could feel it… and maybe she did as well. Logically, Odysseus knew that they had only been looking at each other for a mere few seconds, but it felt like he was staring for an eternity at something so close yet so far. And Penelope did nothing else but silently stare back. She shifted her position, pulling away from the scene and returning back inside. Odysseus let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It felt like time suddenly began moving once more when it had always been flowing, falling through his fingers like flowing water with no hope of holding on to it.

“Antinous, if you do not explain to me what exactly you were doing I can and will tell Penelope.” The woman said as she walked in front Odysseus, who’s gaze still lingered on the balcony for another moment before returning to look at the suitors and the new woman. Antinous sneered. “And why should I? Your family may be up there in terms of status, but you’re nowhere near close to me.” He sneered. “And? Do you think I care? You already showed just how petty you get because someone bruised your fragile ego. I still haven’t forgiven you for the fight with Telemachus.” The woman took a step forward towards the suitor, but he didn’t move. “And? The boy started it.” Another step forward and another rise in tension. “Who exactly called his mother a tramp? That’s right, you.” Another step forward until she was right in front of him. At this point even more suitors began to crowd around them to see what was happening, and Odysseus dreaded a physical fight would break out.

“Well then, since you seem so keen on berating me for teaching the little wolf a lesson, why don’t I give you an opportunity to even out the scales?” Antinous’s fist met the woman’s face, sending her stumbling back. She regained her balance before gently touching her face, a bruise forming on her right cheek. Whispers and murmurs emanated from the crows as it grew larger, more suitors joining the audience and a few servants discreetly watching from the sidelines. She looked at her own blood smeared against her fingers before turning her attention towards Antinous. “I gladly accept.” She ran forward, fist aimed at Antinous’s face. The suitor held his forearm up to block it, only for her to twist her foot, turning around to kick him from behind without her fist ever making contact with him. Antinous was pushed forward a step from the force of the kick, but quickly recovered, turning around to grab her by the leg she used to kick him. The crowd around them began cheering as he pulled her forward into another punch, which was blocked by her own forearms, now also bruised. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into a headbutt, unable to dodge or move away because of their position.

The sound of a wooden bowl hitting Antinous’s head caused all sound to cease, the silence deafening as everyone’s heads turned to look at the source of the bowl. Antinous glared at Odysseus, who was hiding his grip on his knife in his oversized clothes. Antinous let go of the woman who fell on the floor, wincing at her bruises. Odysseus’s grip on his knife tightened as he took a step forward towards him. He opened his mouth to say something before he was cut off by a young voice. “Stop! What’s going on he- [NAME]!” A young boy shoved his way through the crowd and into the clearing that formed around the olive tree, rushing towards the side of the young woman. He kneeled beside her as he assessed her wounds. Antinous crossed his arms in annoyance as the young boy began to ceaselessly fuss over her. Odysseus stared at the boy, he could recognize those eyes from anywhere. “[name], are you okay? What happened?”

“Tele, I’m fine. It's just a few bruises, I’m not an old frail man.” She said as she sharply turned to look at Antinous. “Unlike the person a certain someone was harassing.” Odysseus stared at the young man- no, his son. No wonder he looked so familiar. He had his mother’s eyes and the same fair skin as her, but the face and hair of his own. His head was reeling, it had been so long since he’d seen his young boy. He was all grown up now, grown through all those special moments in his life Odysseus would never be able to experience. Gods, he missed his first hunt, his first training session, he missed being able to teach his son all the things he promised he’d pass on from his mentorship under Athena. But now Telemachus was right there, but he still couldn’t teach him all the things he wasn’t able to.

Antinous looked at all three of them one by one, from Odysseus to Telemachus in increasing disgust. “I’ve had enough of this, the way both of you act around each other is nauseating.” He said as he left the courtyard and into the building. Telemachus helped [name] up and she turned to look at Odysseus. “I am so sorry for all this. My intent was only to help you get that pig off your back,” She said as she looked at the direction Antinous left in with so much disgust it almost gave Odysseus whiplash from her original apologetic tone. “but it seems my impulsiveness got the better of me. Usually I try not to cause fights but I’m not exactly the best at not doing that.” She said shamefully. “Oh please, it's quite alright. I understand what it’s like. Sometimes, when you’re in the heat of the moment, your emotions cloud your judgement and you’re so focused on doing what you think’s right that… you don’t realize the consequences that might follow.” He said with a wistful smile. “I really have no idea what happened, but I apologize either way. Please, have this for your troubles.” Telemachus said as he handed him money, before cutting through the crowd to probably lead [name] to get healed. Odysseus stared at the coins placed in his hand, it was enough to buy him a whole house.

……………………………………………………

……………………………………………………

The metallic stench of blood filled your nose as you walked across the wet floor, the red liquid staining your sandals. The faint light of the torches could barely illuminate the dark room, the moon’s light nowhere to be seen through the windows. What little the light did show was nothing but puddles of blood and the faint outline of bodies. Right there, at the end of the room were twelve axes that were originally supposed to be used for the challenge queen Penelope made for her suitors. It didn’t take long for you to hear about what went wrong, and it took even shorter for you to make your way here. You grabbed one of the axes, testing its weight as you gave it a few experimental swings. The silence of the challenge room was so quiet you could hear your own wet footsteps echo as you tested the axe. You internally facepalmed as you looked down at your weapon, realizing just how little you thought this through. You had no plan in mind, you just heard that Telemachus was also fighting and just had to join. The idea of fighting alongside him was exhilarating, and meeting his father, king Odysseus and master tactician that won the war? You didn’t really think too hard on your decision to join. As much as you hated to admit it, Telemachus and your father were right. You really needed to think things through more. 

Your body tensed when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the room, your grip on your axe tightening. Well, if you were good at one thing, it was brazenly charging into battle. You readied your stance, prepared for a fight. Since you weren’t able to kill Antinous, you’ll have to settle for killing the suitor first. The moment the bright light of a torch rounded the corner of the entryway, you charged forward, swinging your axe towards their head. Being on the other side of the room, they had plenty of time to jump out of your way. Now, you were at the entrance and they were trapped inside the room. Their torch illuminated their face and you took a moment to look at them. Eurymachus, the cowardly one. “Hey, [name], let us talk about this! I never once went out of my way to hurt you nor Telemachus, I always payed my due respects to her majesty. It was Antinous that-“

“Lead you and your fellow scum in the plan to execute my betrothed in secret.” You said with a sneer, throwing the axe at his head. It flew past the torch, the push of wind blowing it out as the man in front of you fell to the floor. He met the floor with a loud thump, his remains now nothing but another body in the landscape of corpses in the room. You moved to pull the axe out of his head with more aggression than needed before leaving. His words irritated you to no end, the man was nothing but an idle fool who made the choice of inaction. Never once did he try to stop his fellow suitors from tormenting Telemachus, never once has he tried to lessen all the resources they waste, never once did he leave when Telemachus ordered them. None of them did.

You let out a sigh as you walked through the hallways. Where exactly was Telemachus? And where was Odysseus? They most likely passed through this area already, if the bodies everywhere said anything. The father son duo was probably closer to the courtyards of the palace outside where the suitors must have fled towards. Either that or the pack of meatheads ran towards their weapon supply. You guessed it was the latter and promptly made your way through the familiar halls, passing by familiar faces on the floor that will never be missed. Surprisingly enough you couldn’t find any signs of struggle during battle. Nothing but the light of torches fallen on the floor could light up the scene, the moon and stars never daring to gaze upon the massacre. Bodies upon bodies were piled up in a gruesome display of vengeance with a vile stench that made your nose wrinkle in disgust, and yet each and every one of them only had an arrow to the head or chest to blame for their demise. No bruising nor cuts of a blade, only a lone arrow on each suitor. It was only after a long time of walking did the bodies slowly lessen in numbers, but still remained ever present. A silent reminder of the ruthless monster that lurked in these dark halls.

Your head turned towards the sound of metal blade against metal blade just to your right. Carefully peeking over the edge, your eyes widened at the sight of Telemachus fighting a suitor on his own. The light of a fallen torch reflected the glint of a knife in the darkness. Your grip on your axe tightened and you swung at the knife wielder without hesitation. The suitor’s screams were drowned by his own blood pouring out of his mouth, your axe lodged into his throat. Looking behind you, a surprised suitor was stabbed from behind, his blood coating the rest of the blade that pierced through him. The sword was pulled out and the suitor fell to the floor, revealing Telemachus behind him. “[name]? What are you doing here?” He asked as he looked around as if worried anyone might be eavesdropping. “Did you really think word of your suitor hunt wouldn’t get out? Tele, the entire palace could hear the screams of terror.” You replied as you rested your axe on your shoulder. “Of course I didn’t think we’d be able to hide a mass genocide! What I’m asking is why you came here after learning about a giant fight-“ He paused mid sentence, and you didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring at you with the most unimpressed expression you’ll ever see. You barely tried to hide your amused snickering as he rolled his eyes at you. “You know what? I retract my statement. The fight was all the reason you needed to come here, wasn’t it.” It was less of a question and more of a statement.

“Actually, not really. At least, it wasn’t the only reason.” You said you stared directly into his eyes that reflected the ever dancing light of the torch. The flame flickered, going from bright to dark and back within seconds. You could barely see Telemachus, but you poured every bit of attention you had into listening to Telemachus go from unamused to curious. “Really? Then what was it?” He asked as you smiled. “I’m looking right at it.” Telemachus looked around once more, but this time to find what you were staring directly at rather than look for hidden dangers. “Wha? But the only thing you’re looking at is… Oh.” You didn’t even try to hide your amusement this time, bursting out into a fit of howling laughter at his flushed face. “Really? Do you have to tease me even in the middle of battle?” You shoved your face right in front of his, mere inches away. “Yeah, cause you haven’t told me to stop yet.”

“Euryalus, he locked the rest of our weapons in one of the rooms! These are the only ones we have, none of us could open it up-“ Telemachus looked towards the group of new suitors, who immediately drew their weapons at the sight of the both of you. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath, you were kinda having a moment here. With much annoyance your stance changed from relaxed and playful with your axe on your shoulder, to a defensive battle stance with your weapon at the ready. Even with Telemachus, you could only handle so many suitors. “Hey Tele, remember what I told you about hunting wild hogs?” You asked as he looked at you incredulously. “Aim for the area around the shoulder or the head? [name], what does this have to do with anything-“ You cut him off with a mischievous grin barely lit by the torch. “Exactly. I suggest you aim for the chest since you’re too short for their heads.” You could practically see the gears turning in his head before he opened his mouth in a baffled offense.

You charged forwards to the four suitors, stepping on the torch and putting it out as you ran. You moved to the side of the group and swung your axe at the outermost member. He blocked your axe, and at the same time you heard the clash of metal from the other side of the group. You could barely see anything, but you recognized the silhouette of Telemachus fighting off the other two suitors. Another suitor came up from behind the one in front of you to aim his sword at your side. You pushed the sword blocking your axe downwards to block the other suitor’s sword, before pushing both of them off. Spinning around, you hit the head of the first suitor you attacked with your axe, killing them. The sight of another sword in the corner of your eye made your breath hitch, it was far too close for you to move away and turn around to block. You still tried to pull up your axe to block it, and a spray of blood passed by your view. By the time you were fully turned around to face your attacker, they were clutching their hand in pain. Or more like their lack of one. In front of you stood Telemachus, sword in hand as he charged forward, stabbing the suitor in their chest while they were writhing in pain. “[name], what did I say about minding your surroundings!” Telemachus said concerned as the suitor died and joined the rest of them on the floor. “Hey, it turned out okay in the end. He’s dead and I’m alive, I’ll be fine-“

A large thud behind you made you jump, and you slowly turned around with your axe held up. “You know, my son is right. If neither of us were here, you’d be another body on the floor.” You blinked and stared at the man before you. “Father!” Telemachus gasped from behind you. Oh. OH. “Odysseus?” You asked bewildered. He was a lot shorter than you expected. Now you know why Telemachus was shorter than all the men his age and you while his mother still towered over everyone in the room. He nodded with a gentle smile. “And you’re the [name] my son has so fondly told me about.” He said as he drew back his bow. You looked back at Telemachus and you both made eye contact, before you looked at Odysseus. “Wait, what? He talks about me? Wait, what did he say? Tele, you better not have told your father about the sand incident.” You heard him stifle a small chuckle, and you whipped around to gasp at him with all the exasperation you could manage. “You did not!”

“I did.” He said unapologetically. You stared at him in betrayal, jaw dropped before turning back to Odysseus. “Hey, your majesty, did you know that before I got with your son he trained Argos to run at me so he could pretend like he accidentally let him loose to make an opportunity to talk with mMMFFF!” Telemachus slapped his hand onto your mouth as you struggled against his arm. “I did not do that, she’s lying.” He said indignantly as Odysseus stared at the two of you amused. You shoved at Telemachus’s wrist while you both physically struggled against each other. You saw him eyeing your hand on his wrist and you looked at him sternly. “Don’t you even dare- OW!” The madlad bit your hand and you pulled away from him, your bodies detaching from one another. “You menace.” You said as he shoved his face into yours, mere inches away like you were mere moments ago. For a moment, he just stared at you and you stared back at him. It was like all the emotional intensity that was interrupted before was returning full force, a shameless rush of affection like a raging river. You’ve always been told by Penelope that there were moments between her and Odysseus that felt like time stopped, when they looked into their eyes and saw love for eternity in each other. But right now, you felt nothing close to that. It was like time was rushing past you with no end, quick and intense. Every small detail blurred together into Telemachus, and in his eyes you saw the life you have right now.

“Telemachus, I know little to nothing about you, and even less about [name], but I see the same love I have for your mother in you, and I see the same love Penelope has for me in [name].” You both stared at him, hands that had intertwined subconsciously squeezing tightly. Telemachus looked over to you, and once again you saw not just your life in his eyes, but yours and his. “I approve of this one.” Your lover blinked in sync with you. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said how much you loved it when she stood up for you before you got the courage to fight Antinous?” Telemachus stared at his father and after a beat of silence, screeched with embarrassment. “FATHER, DON’T-“ You looked at Odysseus with a devious grin, and began to explain every single Argos incident while Telemachus hid his face in your neck.

[purple-umbrella-girl]

I am deceased

Ahem might I make a randow toss of an idea to you? I love your fic so much but i am to scared not to hide in anon for this. so we all know that reader and telemachus are in love and they both know buuuuut

what is Telemachus had snuck off without telling her he loved her and so reader still thinks he's upset with her and he comes back and either by another suitor or Ody she's on her last few moments and then he confesses as she dies >: ) 🎀- Anon

WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE HAPPINESS

The great hall echoed with shouts, the chaos of Odysseus’s long awaited vengeance staining the palace red. Telemachus moved through the fray, his sword dripping with the blood of suitors, his focus singular: finding the one person he needed to protect.

Y/N.

He hadn’t seen her since the battle began, and dread clawed at his chest. The last memory of her burned fresh in his mind—her face twisted with anger and hurt as they argued. He’d left for his diplomatic mission that same night, too proud and too stubborn to offer any words of comfort. And now, months later, with his father’s return and justice at hand, he realized how foolish he’d been.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, scanning the room desperately.

His eyes landed on her at last, her figure standing near the hearth. Relief washed over him, only to be replaced by sheer terror as he saw the bowstring in his father’s hands pull taut, aimed directly at her.

“Father, no!” Telemachus shouted, but the warning came too late.

The arrow flew.

She gasped as the arrow struck her chest, her body crumpling to the floor. The world around Telemachus slowed as he dropped his sword and sprinted toward her, his heart pounding louder than the chaos around him. When he reached her, he fell to his knees, gathering her trembling body into his arms. Blood stained his hands as he pressed them to her wound, trying to stop the flow.

“Y/N, no. No, no, no,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his. “Telemachus?” she rasped, her voice weak.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m here. Just stay with me. Please.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, though it ended in a cough. “I thought you hated me.”

Her words struck him harder than any weapon could. Tears blurred his vision as he shook his head. “I never hated you,” he said, his voice desperate. “I was angry, and I was stupid, but I could never hate you. I… I love you.”

Her eyes widened slightly at his confession, and a small, broken smile formed on her lips. “You… You love me?”

“Yes,” he choked out, pressing his forehead to hers. “I should have told you before, but I was too much of a coward. I thought I’d have time to make things right, to tell you everything.”

Her hand weakly reached up to touch his cheek, her bloodstained fingers trembling. “You’re here now,” she whispered.

“Don’t say it like that,” he begged, his voice breaking. “You’re going to be fine. We have the greatest healers I know in Ithaca. We’ll fix this.”

Her breathing grew shallower, her eyes beginning to lose focus. “Telemachus…”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you.”

“I’ll always… love you,” she whispered, her voice fading. Her hand fell limp, and her eyes closed.

“No!” Telemachus cried, pulling her closer as sobs wracked his body.

Odysseus stood a few feet away, his bow lowered, his expression grim. “Telemachus—”

“Stay back!” Telemachus snapped, his voice raw with grief and rage. “This is your fault!”

Odysseus flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “I didn’t know—”

“You didn’t care!” Telemachus shouted, clutching her lifeless body. “You’ve taken everything from me! You should’ve stayed gone, you don’t deserve to come back!”

The great hall fell silent, the weight of Telemachus’s grief hanging heavy in the air. And as the young prince cradled the woman he loved, the victory of the day felt hollow, the cost far too great to bear.

@simpformoonkight

[jackiepackiee]

Platonic! Odysseus after he returned home becoming close with his son Telemachus’ lover. A silent understanding between them that is hidden from the gentle hearts of Telemachus and Penelope.

Both realizing they’ve done terrible things for their the sake of their family.

Sitting on one of the beach’s of Ithaca is the king, alone, reflecting on the last 20 years. Comrades dead at his hand, gods begging for forgiveness. Until you walk up, the one betrothed to his son.

Eyes cold and hard, just like his. Shaped from the world you’ve grown up in, and you sit next to him quietly. A look of a survivor. Waving crashing on the rocks, you both look out in the ruthless sea.

“Do I look like a monster to you?” Your voice calls out, above the battering of water and rock. Steady and smooth.

“We all do.” Odysseus replies. “But when you’re in love…does it really matter?” For now he is not the king, or a great warrior, or some viscous murderer. But instead your father in law, a man who did what was best for his family. A man who has the same values as you.

You may both be “monsters,” but at least you’re doing it for the same people

an- okay this one was stupid, sorry

[aliceramblez]

Telemachus x Goddess of Joy!Reader (HCs)

pairing: epic!Telemachus x fem!reader

tags: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, telemachus is a dork, athena ships it, flower language, and some lore for the actual goddess of joy

artwork by Gigi on YouTube!

It all happens one day when you're still very young.

After a particularly stressful day working alongside your sisters to please Lady Aphrodite, you can't handle the pressure anymore, so you travel to the island of Ithaca to clear your head.

It doesn't register in your brain that you've been crying until you hear a boy's voice calling out to you asking if you're alright. It's a mortal, obviously—a boy who appears to be your age, at least physically.

“Why are you crying?”

“I... I'm tired of trying to make others happy. I just want to be the sad one for once.”

You know you aren't supposed to mingle with mortals, so you keep your responses vague in hopes of satisfying his curiosity while not giving too much away.

But it wasn't like you were lying—as Goddess of Joy, you are expected to bring happiness to the hearts of everyone around you—Aphrodite included—, and it can sometimes take a heavy toll, especially since you haven't been using your powers as long as other Gods have.

The boy stares at you for a moment before running off somewhere in the field of flowers you've been sitting in, only to come back with both a small puppy and a pink peony in hand. He hands you the flower with a smile.

“My mommy says it's okay to be sad sometimes, so don't beat yourself up over it. I think this one would look pretty on you, though!”

You take the flower, give it a look over, and then turn back to the boy with a smile of your own. That's when the puppy leaps on top of you and starts slobbering you with kisses, much to the boy's dismay but your delight.

Since then, you decide to pay Ithaca visits more frequently whenever you aren't busy, successfully meeting up with the boy again and again to play.

You finally learn who he is—Telemachus. The prince of the land and son of Odysseus, progidy of Athena. Whenever he talks to you about his father, you can see the pain in his eyes of having to be sitting around waiting for a man who may never return. You decide to use your powers once in a while to help cheer him up.

It isn't until his thirteenth birthday that he finds out who you are.

“You're a Goddess, aren't you?”

It catches you by surprise, but it's not unexpected. Telemachus is smart, so it wasn't like he wouldn't find out eventually. After revealing your true self, all he does is sit down and listen, just like he did when you met all those years ago.

“I'm sorry I never told you. I... I liked being your friend without the pressure of a title between us. I didn't want you to treat me any differently.”

Telemachus doesn't do anything other than pick up a flower from the field you're both sitting in. A purple orchid which he tucks behind your ear with a smile, making you stare in awe.

“Goddess or not, you're still my best friend! I'd think you'd know me better than that by now.”

“Haha, I do... what even gave it away?”

“You're always showing up outta nowhere and people seem much happier whenever you're around, but like, in a super quick way! Besides, there's no way someone so pretty isn't a goddess...”

It's immediately clear that last part wasn't meant to come out because pink is now covering Telemachus' cheeks, causing you to flush as well.

More years go by and you begin to share stories with him about the Gods in Olympus—how Zeus is a womanizer, Poseidon looking scary but actually being a secret softie, and of course all the beef you have with your ‘boss’, Aphrodite.

He's always so eager to listen to whatever you have to say because of his dream of becoming a noble warrior, and will also comfort you whenever you're in a bad mood.

You try doing the same when more years pass and there's still no sign of his father. You offer to use your magic to help, but he says all he needs is a friend willing to listen, so that's what you become.

Whenever the suitors are giving him a hard time, you use your powers to make them be as sickeningly sweet with one another as possible, that it sometimes looks like they're in love. You and Telemachus get a crack out of it every time.

It's you who goes to find Athena when Telemachus is fighting Antinous, begging her to come help because there's really nothing you can do on the matter. She really doesn't need much persuading, though.

You can only thank the Gods that he's fine all things considered, but seeing him all battered up with cuts and bruises all over his body breaks your heart. You're immediately by his side with a washcloth and fresh clothes so that the wounds don't get infected despite his protests.

“I-I'm fine, really! Ow!”

“You will be fine once you stop moving!”

Athena chuckles in the background as you turn to her. She's giving you a knowing smirk, causing you to look away with a blush adorning your cheeks.

Once they start their training together, you're there cheering him on from the sidelines, which kinda backfires because according to Athena “we don't need any distractions”. You apparently fall under that category, and Telemachus is covering his face all the time but you swear you can see red on the tips of his ears.

Once Odysseus finally returns home, you're surprised to see Telemachus make his way to you as you're sitting in your usual spot.

He sits beside you and seems to be fiddling with something hidden in his robe. You can't see what it is from your angle.

“Aren't you going to spend time with your father?”

“He's with my mother right now. Something tells me they're going to be a while...”

“Right, I almost forgot. She must be overjoyed! But... are you okay? I saw what happened in there and...”

“Hey, I'm okay. Athena's training paid off. I'm tougher than I look, ya know?”

He then proceeds to comically flex his muscles with a wiggle of his eyebrows, causing you to laugh at this adorkable human being. You thank the Gods that you were born in the same time period as him, because now you can't think of a life without him in it.

That's when you notice the nervous fidgeting again and he's even started to advert his gaze after the little joke he pulled off. It's strange considering he's never been the shy type—when he's got something on his mind, he'll speak up no matter what.

“Are you sure you're okay, Telemachus?”

“Y-Yeah, I'm fine! I just... wanted to give you something. As a thanks for everything you've done for me.”

And before you can say anything, he's pulling out a flower from behind his back and placing it behind your ear. You can only barely register what it is before it's out of your sight: a red rose.

“You're the most amazing person I've ever met. A-And not just because you're a Goddess! You've always been there for me even when I don't ask you to, and have my back no matter what. You're just really nice, and funny and kind... I-I..”

You can't take it anymore and before your mind registers what's happening, you're already kissing him.

As you pull away, both your faces are as red as tomatoes and you can feel the smile on your face turning large and goofy. Giggles erupt from you both.

“I love you...”

“I love you, too...”

“And I love how long it took you two lovebirds to admit it.”

Athena's owl is gazing at you both and it almost sounds as it's chuckling while you two hide your faces in each other's shoulders.

Coming to Ithaca was the best decision you could've ever taken.

[kaechu1]

Telemachus: dad i did something really bad... like bad BAD!

Odysseus: son I've seen so much, it can't be that ba-

Telemachus: i kissed y/n..

Odysseus: ...

Odysseus: you mean y/n, Y/N?

Telemachus: yes..

Odysseus: the same y/n who's been picking on you for years?

Telemachus: *nods as his face turns a little pink*

Odysseus: the same y/n who's have been making your life a living hell??

Telemachus: *face red as fuck as he look away with shame*

Odysseus: ...

Odysseus: i own Penelope so much money-

(this is canon i was ody old bow)