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looulouv · 20 days ago

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the bodyguard. — epic!telemachus x reader

pairing: telemachus x gn!reader synopsis: after a year away from ithaca, telemachus returns to find his home in turmoil, with bloodshed staining the halls of the palace. gods, he just wanted to reunite with his family, his mother and certain guard that had captured his heart without even knowing. but the fates had another idea of a family reunion. genre: idk man, fluff ? angst ? warnings: fighting, blood, etc etc, tele being a sweetheart, mm that's it ig word count: 2.5k author's note: first time posting here, got tired of my ideas rotting in my notes app.......... had sm fun writing this, omg my fingers hurt after spending like three hours on my laptop ! would love to write more ab this, lemme know if i should !!!

first meeting: here! pt 2: here!

Telemachus had been alone in the palace for a long time. Dreaming of the day where his father would return to claim his throne, where he would tell him countless stories from the war, from the world, the sea. Telemachus' heart hurt, feeling a missing part, a void that he knew his father would fill.

But he didn't feel alone. He had them.

(Y/N), a new guard that had been assigned as guard when he was around fifteen. They had arrived as a gift from Nestor of Pylos, whose loyalty to Odysseus stretched back to Troy. Though sent to shield Penelope and her son, their arrival did little to quiet the suitors, who saw them as little more than a foreign soldier meddling in Ithacan affairs. But to Telemachus, their sharp tongue and unwavering spear became a comfort in the chaos, and eventually, their kind heart made his own race. They had become quite a companion for him when they weren't guarding his mother's chambers.

He always found himself admiring them. He couldn't help it, not when they were so pretty. How could anyone carry that guard uniform and still look so gorgeous? Telemachus didn't know. He had grown up alongside (Y/N), who was just a year younger than him, and had watched them transform into a more skilled soldier than they were before, agile and poised, unwavering and firey. Telemachus couldn't stop himself from looking, from sighing at the sight of them, a dazed smile on his lips as he observed at the way their hair flowed as they trained, how their expression softened when they interacted with his mother. How they seemed to bow their head to even Argos when they passed by, greeting ever so softly. Telemachus envied and felt enthralled by the kindness in their heart.

They even tried constantly to stop Antinous from kicking his ass, but well, it didn't do much the last time, it only made the older man give him a warning about how his mother had to choose new husband and with a scoff, he walked away, ripping a goblet of wine from another suitor. Telemachus didn't care. He had landed a few punches as well with Athena's help. He was proud of himself.

Since then, Telemachus not only had his mother and (Y/N), but also Athena. His new mentor encouraged him to be more brave and fierce, to practice with his spear and to take action using strategy and wisdom. And that's why he chose to travel and find information about his father, guided by his mentor to take part in something more than read thousands of scrolls as he spent the day locked in his chambers with Argos.

When he decided to embark on a journey to Pylos and Sparta, both Penelope and (Y/N) were against it, skeptical and worried, but stubborn as ever, Telemachus yelled and that he needed to prove himself, that he needed to know. That he needed to do something to feel worthy of his lineage. And so he left, for a whole year.

As the ship divised Ithaca and Telemachus practically buzzed with enthusiasm of seeing his mother again, of seeing them again, his heart rate picked up.

He didn't know that when he returned, his father would already be there, slaying the 108 souls that made his and his mother's lives tremendously difficult, sending them straight to Tartarus. Yet when Athena advised him to dock his ship somewhere else, away from prying eyes, Telemachus felt something was wrong.

So when he arrived to the palace and managed to hear the screams, he bolted. He ran towards the source of the sounds and while running, he saw piles of bodies, puddles and puddles of blood, his sandals slipping on the slick marble floor stained with fresh crimson. He just hoped his mother was okay, he hoped that (Y/N) could keep her safe. He hoped (Y/N) was safe. The palace was dark as night approached, torches blown out and some of them on the floor, a few feet away from the bodies. Telemachus could still see, squinting his eyes as he now walked carefully, wary of whatever dangers could be found within the walls of his home.

And that's when he saw it, Amphinomus and Melanthius, their voices echoing sharply against the cold stone walls of the armory. The room was dimly lit, the golden and silver glint of scattered weapons catching the faint glow of a single torch hanging near the entrance. They were discussing something about… The king? His father? Had he returned? Was that why the suitors were falling like rotten apples from a tree? He had to do something. That was his chance to finally do something about those monsters that had been tormenting him since he was a child.

He gripped his double sided spear until his knuckles turned white, and before he could be heard, he struck Amphinomus, his sharp eyes watching him fall with a loud thud. He then tried to persuade the rest of the suitors to give up, to throw down their weapons, but as he suspected, it was useless. They charged at him, wanting to capture him to have a leverage over his father.

And they almost did it, because while Telemachus fought tooth and nail to get them off, his spear was knocked out of his hands in a second, and Melanthius forced him to his knees, where Telemachus felt like he had disappointed his mentor and his entire bloodline.

But as soon as his expression fell, his eyes widened as he felt a gush of warm, red liquid on his face. Melanthius had been stabbed from the back, by non other than a man with a cloak, eyes red as blood and expression deathly as a sharp sword. Melanthius tried to beg for mercy, but wasn't grated with it, with harsh words and various wounds to the chest by this individual. His father.

And soon, as Odysseus busied himself with those who were still alive, more screams could be heard down the hallway from the great hall. A running figure emerged from the chaos, sharp eyes gleaming in the lone, flickering torchlight that illuminated the hallway. Their white chiton, trimmed with blue and gold, glowed faintly against the dark, blood-spattered hall. Each calculated strike of their spear echoed in the cavernous space, the clatter of falling weapons and dying gasps and yelps of suitors filling the air. Behind them, the shadows seemed to ripple as if the palace itself recoiled from the carnage. The dark blue chlamys draped over their shoulder, fastened with a round golden brooch, flowed as they moved both ferociously and gracefully. They had an armor, gold bracers with intricate patterns on both forearms, gold and blue greaves on the lower legs, equipped with a round shield, alongside their gold helmet crested with a plume. Strappy leather sandals that climbed their calves made a faint noise as they ran down the hall, eyes calculating every move, mind and soul fast as they struck every suitor they encountered.

Telemachus had never seen such a dangerous yet beautiful sight. (Y/N) looked so flawless as they fought, and when their eyes met? Telemachus swore his heart stopped. He hadn't seen them since the year prior, and they looked even more stunning. Not that they weren't stunning before, but because he had missed that elegance and grace when he was away, -thinking about it for a whole year, of them with a stoic face, chuckling at him as his spear fell out of his hands when he practiced, shielding him from Antinous constant pestering, admiring them while they were on duty and he was supposed to be eating his dinner-, and seeing it once more after a long time made him appreciate it even more. When they approached, asking if he was hurt while trying to wipe the blood off his face, asking if some of it was his, Telemachus couldn't stop himself from stuttering, cheeks flushed like he hadn't been stabbing men left and right, the flush on his cheeks competing against the blood on his clothes and face. The air was thick, heavy with the aftermath of battle, yet all he could focus on was the way (Y/N)’s gaze burned into his.

"I-I'm fine, (Y/N), I promise, it's not mine" he answered, lowering himself to retrieve his spear and grip it in his hands, sending a lopsided smile their way, almost forgetting that his father, the one who was stranded away for twenty years, was right there, as he admired their presence. How their hair had grown out, how it seemed more shiny.

Once he snapped out of that trance, his eyes fell on his father. Odysseus, the great king of Ithaca. Telemachus' mouth hanged open for a while, staring as Odysseus recovered for the carnage. His chest heaved, his long hair was messy, face stained with red.

"Father…" was all Telemachus could muster, heart on his throat. (Y/N) took notice of this, and their eyes snapped to the man whom they didn't recognize, eyes wide with shock.

"My king, it's an honor." they bowed deeply, lowering their spear as well as their head.

Odysseus, who seemed to now comprehend how much time he had been away, ignored the greeting from the guard and just looked at Telemachus like he was still an infant in his arms, muttering a soft "Son…" as his eyes softened, no longer carrying that angry red that he possessed during the battle. Both father and son embraced for a while, emotions flooding the room as (Y/N) gave them space, guarding the door like they were on duty.

Once they had talked and shared a few tears, Telemachus fetched the guard from their spot, his hand brushing slightly against theirs as he pulled them in the direction of his father.

"This is (Y/N), father. The guard I talked to you about, a friend I made over the years. They practically kept this whole place running. If it weren't for them, mother and I would probably be in ruins," he chuckled, eyes trailing over every faction, every detail in (Y/N)'s face.

“A fine soldier and a loyal companion. You’ve served my family well, (Y/N).” Odysseus' voice was heavy with authority, but there was a warmth underneath it, a gratitude that even a seasoned warrior like (Y/N) would recognize, as his eyes, maybe dimmed and tired, still held some softness in them.

"It was nothing, my king. I was just doing what was right, it's my duty." they replied, tone steady, but Telemachus noticed the faintest waver in their voice. Nerves? Respect? Whatever it was, was endearing to him. And when (Y/N) straightened up and bowed once more, turning their attention back to the doors as Odysseus told Telemachus to inform his mother of his return and to have his guard accompany him, he let them go first before patting his son on the back with a strong but gentle hand.

"A good choice, my boy."

Telemachus froze, eyes wide as his cheeks turn blazing red.

"Wha-? No, father, it's not-" he stammered, trying to think of something to save himself, but it was futile.

"Oh, it's not what? I saw the way you looked at them the moment they joined the fight. Don't lie to me, son. I may have been away for twenty years, but I recognize that look everywhere. I looked at your mother the same way,"

His words alone were enough for Telemachus to turn scarlet, even more than he already was, knuckles white as he gripped his spear with the strength of an army, heart pounding against his ribcage. Gods, what was he going to do?

#telemachus #epic the musical #epic the ithaca saga #epic telemachus #telemachus x reader #epic telemachus x reader #epic x reader #epic the musical x reader #god what am i gonna do same tele #the bodyguard

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