wonderingprince - Tumblr blog

[wonderingprince]

Telemakhos had been in the unusual position of having heard first-hand accounts of Hades' realm from his father. That story had been haunting, unsettling, with his descriptions of those restless shades. So to end up in the golden fields of Elysium had been something of a shock. The endless landscape seems to stretch on forever here, as time must stretch on forever, idyllic in a way he would never have trusted in life but can't help but trust in death.

The idea of an afterlife that stretches on forever should scare him, would scare him if he was back on Ithaka, but here it just feels natural.

The way the stranger describes the land is interesting; the concept that Elysium gives you what you want without you even realising it seems obvious, instinctive, but nobody else has put it into words for him before.

"It is the people here I care about more than the place, but--" he smiles, gestures expansively, sure, for some reason, that this young man will catch his meaning. The beauty and peace of Elysium is not something easily described by plain words. Telemakhos is a strong speaker but he is no poet. "It's more than I could have imagined."

He eyes the other curiously, even if his tone remains mostly teasing: "Surprised with the wonders of Elysium? Or surprised you ended up here at all?"

Maybe he's just projecting. Elysium was meant to be the home of heroes, after all, and Telemakhos had done little heroic in his life. No wars, no real monsters; he thinks he had been a good king, at least. 

Paris smiles brightly, unable not to preen at least a little at having lured the stranger in with his music. A stranger that is apparently new to Elysium, which draws a curious look, though the young man looks no more familiar - or stranger, on a second look than he did the first.

The newest arrivals Paris is more familiar with was Helenus and Andromache, and even they arrived a while ago. But perhaps there were yet - or at least had been - some more among the Achaeans that the gods thought fit for Elysium. And if so, at least this one, then, could have had little to do with the war.

"I don't see why it can't be both," Paris says with a laugh, carefully putting the lyre down on the ground, leaning it against the rock. Smoothing out the drape of the tunic in his lap, he shakes his head. "I'd never say no to company, but sometimes we feel the need for no one's company but our own, don't we? At least for a little while."

And if he'd hoped to be found and interrupted... well, that is no one's business but that of his very foolish heart, surely. Paris knows very well he should not be sitting here yearning.

He has no right to it.

"Elysium usually gives us what we want, but I suppose I wasn't yearning for solitude so much, this time. You said you were new, still, to Elysium, how do you find it?" Paris smiles warmly, sweeping a hand out. "It certainly was a surprise, when I first came here, myself."

[wonderingprince]

Telemakhos wants to laugh. He wants to cry. Isn't that what he'd said, when the suitors had first started appearing? That his father wasn't dead, they had no proof, no right to be trying to steal his wife?! 

That hadn't stopped them, back when Odysseus' return was still within realistic possibilities. It just makes them laugh now. Isn't that why Telemakhos is here at all? Isn't that why he's so worried about this mercenary stranger on board his ship? A man whose entire expression changed when he mentioned the Queen?

If the suitors succeed in their ambush, what's to stop this man from siding with them for his own gain?

Telemakhos has to answer, or he will raise suspicions in turn. He has to keep the bitterness out of his voice, if he wants to be sure that his identity cannot be guessed. “I suppose in all your wandering, my friend, that you never heard; King Odysseus never returned from the war. He might be dead, he might be held against his will somewhere, or maybe he’s like you, sir, and he does not long for home."

The doubt the stranger's previous words had wrought is rising inside him, blocking out much of the good from his time with Nestor and Menelaos. His jaw clenches, works for a moment, and he decides that he should focus more on how to deal with the suitors when he reaches home, than on dreams of his father.

Ithaka is not wealthy compared to some, but this stranger has nothing. Maybe he can be bought.

"The reason hardly matters: he’s not on Ithaka, and so there are many suitors vying for the Queen’s hand now.”

Odysseus looks aside, brows faintly drawn together as if he needs to consider the question. He watches as the water brightens to a richer blue, still grey in patches where the clouds linger. Endless variation on an uninterrupted view he's stared at and brooded over for the last seven, ten, twenty years.

"If a ship will take me." He sounds pensive. As might anyone, facing an uncertain future, depending on others' goodwill. "I've lived too long by my sword to learn another trade now, somewhere there's no need for it."

If he could take this ship all the way to Ithaka—straight as the birds fly, how many times has he imagined being that free, that swift—

How could he do anything else?

He would be bringing empty hands. He has nothing material, not even the cloak on his back, to show for all his years away. No men, no friendships, no spoils, no gifts. And no way of gaining them, unless he were to truly become the mercenary he's pretending to be.

He could, though. It would be easy to. It would only come at the cost of circling his home in a gyre growing ever wider, instead of tighter, again...

The idea of it exhausts him, but the mention of the queen brings his gaze back to the captain.

"Surely," Odysseus says, a strange look on his face, "that would only be true if the king were dead."

[wonderingprince]

He's been a ball of anticipation ever since Athena suggested that he travel to Sparta. Not just because of the mission the goddess has given him; he thinks that if Menelaus had recent news of his father, they would have gotten it to Ithaka somehow. But still he leaps at the opportunity to see his sister.

Running footsteps; he looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of dark hair as Iphthime hurls herself at him. Telemakhos clutches her to him tightly. It's been so long. This boy isn't the scrawny teenager she left behind, but a serious young man, beardless yet, but not for much longer. It's been lonely on Ithaka without his sister.

"Grown more than you, I think," he replies, teasing, a smile starting to peek through in response to hers. "I have missed you."

@wonderingprince gets a starter! telemakhos + iphthime

Years it's been since she last saw her brother's face, years it's been since they were together. Iphthime had heard from Hermione that there was a ship from Ithaca, and she'd thrown herself into action. Part of her thought perhaps it would be her father coming to get her, to bring her home, or even her mother.

Seeing Telemakhos walk out of the throne room from where he'd been meeting with Menelaus and Helen was somehow so much better.

"Brother!" Iphthime runs to him, all composure and discipline she's learned in the last few years as Helen's ward had taught her. She launches herself into his arms, laughing with joy. "It's you! It's actually you." She pulls back, cupping his face in her hands and beaming at him. "Look at you. You're all grown."

[wonderingprince]

Ganymede's opinion probably shouldn't matter to him as much as it suddenly seems to---- he might be a god but it's not like the afterlife and reincarnations are anything to do with him. But this little conversation is quickly becoming the longest he's ever had with a god, outside of Athena of course. In spite of himself, he's starting to genuinely like Ganymede.

And he's certainly more open than any other god he's ever met. Whether full and comprehensive or not, the answer Telemakhos gets seems brutally honest.

Telemakhos doesn't fully understand of course. How could he? But he remembers every realisation that had come after his memories had fully coalesced.

The lumps of stone in Ithaka that are the only remnants of his home. The museums in Athens that had showcased relics described as ancient that had been created centuries after he had died. A world where they believe him to be a mythological, fictional character. Where even the classics professors don't speak the ancient language quite right.

Telemakhos has faced many disappoints since he woke up, moments that are disconcerting and distressing. He can't imagine having to live through it.

"Can I get you a refill?" he asks, because he's not certain he's ready to let this first link to his past disappear. "Or should you be on your way?" Refills are, of course, Ganymede's job, he thinks, letting the corner of his mouth pull upwards, but he doesn't rescind the offer.

If he stays, he doesn't have to think about everything he's just learned. Doesn't have to start processing that he might not be alone after all. Doesn't have to start deciding where to look first.

Ganymede nods, with a warm little smile on his face. He's genuinely glad for Ben. It can't be an easy needle to thread, keeping hold of what was and so defined you - still does, with all those memories - yet not losing sight of what is, now.

"Both matters. And if you want my opinion, I don't think you would've been reborn alone."

That Telemakhos hadn't been reborn with Odysseus and Penelope in close proximity was perhaps odd, and its own sort of pain for all three of them, undoubtedly. But either way he knew they would've been together in the Underworld, and so there was little doubt in Ganymede's mind that they had gone together, whatever the reason to do so had been. He didn't need to care about these three souls in particular, or know any more of them than he did, to be certain of that.

"Sometimes it wasn't," Ganymede agrees, tapping his lips in thought. "Mostly, closest to the end of the war. But otherwise, it has just been life, and getting to see everything change---"

He pauses, the smile somewhere between genuinely delighted, a light in his eyes for any number of things he'd gotten to see, and pained.

"When no version of my native language was spoken any more, that was one thing that had nothing to do with my family and home that wasn't easy. The same when the culture, even the last, changed and most physically distant versions of it, finally got swallowed up by other civilizations. But everything else, between and after that, hasn't really been hard, at all."

There's no more hot chocolate in the cup. Ganymede realizes that as he takes a thoughtless sip and gets nothing but a faintly chocolate-tasting drop. Smiling wryly for the miss, he puts the cup back down.

[wonderingprince]

"It took my father ten years of suffering to reach home. I would not have him set sail again for my benefit, not when Ithaka has been without her King for so long."

He thinks his father would have come if he had asked; but how could Telemakhos ask that of the father who fought so many years to get home to them? Telemakhos had not wanted him to come, because having found him, he did not want to risk losing him again. At least right now, no matter what the Trojans do or think, he can be certain that both his parents are safe, at home.

He's never had that comfort before. It's a nice feeling.

Not enough to shield him from the weight of Hektor's uncomfortable gaze, unfortunately.

It's not just Hektor making him uncomfortable. It's true that Telemakhos is used to a crowded hall, threatening figures and eyes on him. And Menelaos' halls had been shining and resplendent, intimidating in their grandeur. But Troy is all this and more. He's always known that Ithaka had little to offer in other people's eyes, but now he understands.

"My father sent me with Mentor, his most trusted friend, who has been in charge of his affairs these twenty years. But Mentor is old, and he prefers to stay on the ship." There, if Athena wanted to smite him for even indirectly calling her old, it would at least get him out from under Hektor's stare.

Peiraeus bristles at his side as Hektor demands proof. But Telemakhos understands just how unwelcome suitors can be. Hektor has all the grace and power that he did not have to deal with unwanted visitors. In this moment the Trojan feels strangely like a version of his father he might have daydreamed about once.

The situation is not the same, of course. Telemakhos is already betrothed to the princess. He is not coming here to take advantage. And, if nothing else, he has better manners than all those now-dead lords who haunted his home.

But his mother did not raise a pushover.

"What would you take as proof in the absence of my father, my lord?" he asks evenly. "How could he himself be sure that I was the babe in arms he left behind twenty years ago?"

"This is indeed extraordinary."

Hektor has never mastered how to look relaxed in his throne, as he might, say, on a horse, though he no longer thinks of it as his father's. He lost his awkwardness long before he inherited the crown, and even before the war, but it's a warrior's grace that he has now. He tends to lean forward, his well-muscled arms resting on the chair on either side, with both a warrior's intent and a warrior's restlessness.

Why should I look relaxed? he once asked Andromache. I'm not relaxed. Sitting still all afternoon. She said, Because you make the people think you'll eat them alive.

It is not one of his people before him now.

"If you were unaware of the terms of the betrothal, surely, to address the insult to the my honored sister, the lord of Ithaka should have come with you himself." He'll need to find out more about the alluded-to situation in Ithaka, though he has a good idea of what it's been for years. "Unless, of course, he was prevented."

Troy has been at peace for ten years, and Hektor king for nine; in that time many of their former enemies have died by other means than constant war. Agamemnon, Ajax son of Telamon, Achilles—privately, they have counted Odysseus among their number.

There is a certain resemblance between the lost king and this young man. Taller than Hektor remembers Odysseus, though.

He has not missed Telemakhos' swift scan of the hall, and neither, unless he misses his guess, has Polyxena. From the corner of his eye, Hector sees her clutching Kassandra's arm. They are his only full-blooded sisters yet without husbands, Kassandra because of her devotion to Apollo, Polyxena because her betrothed has never materialized.

Had she been insulted, or had the peace of Troy been threatened by the loss of one alliance, Hektor could have attempted contact with the queen of the Ithaka. He would have, instead of only going so far as to discover if the reports of Odysseus' disappearance were true.

Her expression is guarded. She was a quiet girl, and she's a quiet woman now, but he used to be able to tell what she was thinking from her face—everyone did. That has changed. He catches her eye, and a look passes between them. She shakes her head slightly.

Hektor inclines his head to Telemakhos, gold-braided hair falling over his broad shoulder.

"Have you any proof of your claim?"

[wonderingprince]

"if you’re ever gonna leave this place, don’t wait, it’s time to go." (Athena! Probably disguised as Mentor) // @makrothumia

Telemakhos stands on the shore, sand soft underfoot, the moonlight making the rocky cliffs around them almost glow. He's looking back to what he knows are the lights of the palace, high on the hill. It's the opposite direction to where he normally looks; he's stood on this beach hundreds of times, gaze turned out to sea, sharp eyes tracking every sail on the horizon, watching and waiting and hoping.

He's never left the island before. Two days ago he wouldn't have dared. But two days ago a goddess took pity on him. Now, nowhere across the vast ocean feels out of reach.

Still, he hesitates.

Because even with Athena by his side, how can he be certain that he'll ever make it home again? The sea has not been kind to his family. And maybe leaving Ithaka isn't the big step. The point, the point is he's never left his mother before.

But Athena's words ring in his ears, even as they are spoken by Mentor's gruff voice. The ship is ready; the men are ready and waiting. The sacrifices have been made. He has no reason to delay and every reason to go, now, before they are discovered.

Telemakhos tears his eyes away from the lights flickering in the darkness. Looks to his goddess and nods, solemn and determined. "Thank you," he says, as he steps with her onto the wooden deck, "for everything."

[wonderingprince]

putting this headcanon into official words but. taking very, very vague inspiration from the very non-canonical 'Les Aventures de Télémaque', solely in that telemakhos spends time travelling with athena, more than just his trip to pylos. unlike the book i'm setting these adventures After the events of canon, probably a year or so later? they probably travel around for a few years, on and off, with regular trips back to ithaka because nobody wants telemakhos stuck at sea for a decade.

but the boy definitely needs to get out a bit and see the world, and athena as his mentor/godparent is fun.

[wonderingprince]

LONG LOST SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from lord huron’s 2021 album, long lost. as usual, contains themes of love, heartbreak and regret. change pronouns/wording as necessary.

‘ the moon doesn’t mind that i’m left all alone and she’s gone. ‘

‘ if forever gets lonely, take my hand. ‘

‘ don’t laugh, you’ll make me cry. ‘

‘ i know we will be together. ‘

‘ in my mind, you’re mine forever. ‘

‘ if you’re ever gonna leave this place, don’t wait, it’s time to go. ‘

‘ oh, we really should have left here long ago. ‘

‘ love is strange, i can’t sleep without you. ‘

‘ everybody lies, but I’ll never doubt you. ‘

‘ i don’t want to die but I can’t live without you. ‘

‘ i’m much too young to die. ‘

‘ if you ever want to see my face again, i want to know. ‘

‘ if you never want to see my face again, i want to know. ‘

‘ i’ve been lost before and i’m lost again, i guess. ‘

‘ every road and every highway led me right back to your door. ‘

‘ love me like you used to and i’ll praise you like i should. ‘

‘ love me if you choose to, though you say that i’m no good. ‘

‘ i dream most every night that i never left you. ‘

‘ do you love me anymore? ‘

‘ lord i know i made mistakes, but i am different now, i'vе changed. ‘

‘ will you let me lay beside you? ‘

‘ i swear this time around i’m going to stay. ‘

‘ i curse the goddamn day that i went and left you. ‘

‘ i don’t want to lose you, i would change it if i could. ‘

‘ come on and meet me in the city. ‘

‘ put on the dress you wore the night we met. ‘

‘ am i not the one you’re dreaming of, my angel? ‘

‘ forget the life you had and don’t look back. ‘

‘ if our love is so wrong, tell me why does it feel so right? ‘

‘ am i not the one you want to love forever? ‘

‘ for a while, i was held by the myth of the lost highway. ‘

‘ i ain’t lonely, are you? ‘

‘ i ain’t lonely, i’m long lost. ‘

‘ i’ve a tale or two to tell you, but the booze just makes me slow. ‘

‘ there’s a secret to this town. ‘

‘ there’s a reason why i’m still living here, though i can’t think of it right now. ‘

‘ i made a life out of chasing a ghost. ‘

‘ twenty years takes its toll. ‘

‘ i gotta find a way out of this mess. ‘

‘ i’m in troublе and it sure looks bad. ‘

‘ i destroyed my health searching for myself, but there ain’t nothing there to find. ‘

‘ i ain’t never seen you look so sad. ‘

‘ i get by, but i’m tired of myself. ‘

‘ i just want it to be like it was. ‘

‘ i just want us to be who we were long ago. ‘

‘ how i yearn for the yеars we were young and in lovе. ‘

‘ i look up at the uncaring sky with a prayer on my lips and a tear in my eye. ‘

‘ i just hope you’ll be comin’ back soon. ‘

‘ can we wind back the wheels to the way that it was? ‘

‘ oh, where did the time go? ‘

‘ may you learn the reasons why. ‘

‘ may you live until you die. ‘

‘ it’s hard to make friends when you’re half in the grave. ‘

‘ but i ain’t dead yet. ‘

‘ you look like hell and you smell like death. ‘

‘ turn around and leave me to myself. ‘

‘ I’ve been out way too long, heading right for the edge. ‘

‘ if she asks about me, tell her i’m not dead yet. ‘

‘ i swore that i’d become a better man for you and i tried. ‘

‘ i told you i could never love somebody else, but i lied. ‘

‘ i told you i’d be coming back again for you, but i’m not. ‘

‘ i told you i’d be coming back again for you, but i’m not. ‘

‘ i’m going way out where the world will never find me. ‘

‘ i told you i would never leave you all alone, but i lied. ‘

‘ i read your letter in the morning by the lake and i cried. ‘

‘ told you i could never live without your love, but i lied. ‘

‘ floating, tired and lonesome like i promised to be. ‘

‘ i might stay in my mind just for a couple of years. ‘

‘ where would i go, and would a lone soul miss me? ‘

‘ i’m gonna get it together and i hope i live forеver. ‘

‘ try though i might, i was never a believer. ‘

‘ going to fly through my life ‘til i crash into the ending. ‘

‘ i’ll make a deal with the devil and live forever. ‘

‘ what does it mean if it all means nothing? ‘

[wonderingprince]

The skies are clearing. Clouds swirl above them, a breeze ruffling his hair. 

The man in front of him goes still.

Something makes Telemakhos' heart thud in his chest, his attention caught in return. He hears strange note in his voice, betraying some deeper emotion. An almost casual mention of their king, something not exactly compliment and not exactly insult.

The urge to ask about his father is strong, instinctive, the words threatening to leap from his mouth. Telemakhos stifles that reaction, stifles the ten year old inside his chest. Does he refer to his father in the past tense because the war was so long ago, or because he knows of his death?

Because the stranger's words imply a passing acquaintance, a friendly encounter, but his reaction tells a different story. What man would react that way to the name of an island he's never visited? An fierce enmity could provoke such a strong reaction; so too could the opposite. 

Or, perhaps, he does know the island. Maybe----

Who is this man?

Telemakhos swallows. He tears his gaze away, watches the crew move around them, unfurling the great sails again. "I take it you would continue to seek your fortunes elsewhere then?" he asks, carelessly, as if he hasn't noticed the damage his words caused.

The prow of the ship turns to tack into the wind. Homewards.

Telemakhos continues, his voice casual, his gaze sharp as he watches the stranger out of the corner of his eye. "After all, the only fortune left on Ithaka is the hand of the Queen."

Odysseus goes very still. Not like a deer or a rabbit. Not even like a wolf on a new scent. Like a man who hears his secret thought spoken aloud, and cannot believe it—and wants to hear it again.

No matter how quickly he recovers himself, it is too late. Far too late to pretend that what he's just heard means nothing to him.

His mind flashes as quickly as it ever did in battle, sifting memories of the boys he left behind, too young for the fighting, those who have been spared the monsters and the storms and the cruel end of his twelve black ships. All men now, surely. Some will be older than he was when he left for the war. They could make up a crew of their own now. (And what dangerous thoughts might they think of him, if they knew? Would he find loyalty, or grief soured into deadly anger?) And above all—

The captain looked away as if Odysseus' words are eating at him. Who is the captain? Who is this boy?

"Ithaka," he repeats, steadying his hands. If he is fortunate, his reverent pronunciation of the name may be mistaken for something else. Greed, perhaps. That's also true enough: he is greedier for home than he was for food. "A bad place to visit, but a good one to be from, as Lord Odysseus used to say."

[wonderingprince]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

THE FAIRY. chipped nail polish. glitter highlight. tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair. the taste of cinnamon sugar. talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at 3am with no coat. platonic hand-holding. blowing smoke out of your nose. dragonfly wings. chaotic good. freckles. fairy rings. secret meetings. gender nonconformity. leather. smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.

THE REAPER. computer errors. a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty. hard liquor. crowns of thorns. shadowed alleyways. decaying plant matter. shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes. tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers. absolution. looking out the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

THE WITCH. graffiti. pretending to know what you're doing. worn paperback books. growing up too fast. parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. lace and combat boots. moth wings. candles on every surface. a weathered deck of cards. turning the music up. fireflies in jars. calloused fingers. drawing on your skin. sunlight filtering through the clouds. petrichor. a dying rose in a jar. wearing a crystal pendant. illusions and spells. black cats. mint gum. chapped lips. dirt under your fingernails. the cycle of life and death.

THE WOLF. murders of crows. frost-bitten leaves. wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door. leaving food out for stray animals. the twang of an acoustic guitar. honey. tiny red buds on trees. claw marks on the walls. golden eyes. slightly too long stubble. sharp canines. soft, thick fur. hunger. a small cottage in the middle of the woods. knitted fingerless gloves. sleeping on the forest floor. always finding your way back home.

TAGGED BY: @holdfastdanae TAGGING: if u do it pls tag me so i can see

[wonderingprince]

Taking applications for the position of father* figure!!! APPLY HERE

INDIE RP BLOG FOR TELEMAKHOS OF HOMER'S ODYSSEY. WRITTEN BY NAT.

*gender/age/mortality irrelevant.

[wonderingprince]

hmu if you would like to plot :)

[wonderingprince]

athena is quite literally telemakhos' godparent

[wonderingprince]

@harvestshope

Telemakhos stands tall, straight, chin up. A steady stance, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He's always been good at hiding his fear in a hostile environment; he's always had to be.

He tells himself that he shouldn't be scared. Athena had all but told him directly that she wouldn't let the Trojans hurt him, but she had stayed on the ship in her guise as Mentor, and maybe she's watching anyhow, but maybe she's not. And Telemakhos stands in the lion's den with only Peiraeus for support. He's faced worse obstacles in his life. That doesn't mean fear doesn't flutter in his stomach as he finds himself face to face with the King of Troy.

He lets himself glance around the hall, meeting the gazes of the other Trojans assembled. It's difficult to tell which could be the Princess Polyxena, if she's even present.

"My lord, I apologise for the unannoucned intrusion-" they had sent word ahead of course, but with a journey proven to be so treacherous, it was impossible to know if the messenger had arrived until now. Telemakhos thinks, reading the blank expression of the King in front of him, that the message was not delivered. "I understand that I should have been here some years ago, but I'm afraid I was unaware of my obligation to you until some months ago, and the situation at home made it impossible to make the journey immediately."

Indeed, if his father hadn't returned, Telemakhos might never have made the voyage, even after Nestor informed him of the betrothal. Even with his father back home, the thought of Telemakhos sailing for Troy had unsettled all of them. He thinks that his father hadn't wanted him to come; he knows that his mother hadn't. But Telemakhos thinks he has a duty to at least show up. Whatever happens next is up to the Fates.

[wonderingprince]

Telemakhos isn't sure he likes the callous assumption that his children will not want to see him.

His mother never allowed him to doubt anything about his father---- that he loves him, that he never wanted to leave, that he's fighting to come home to them. Even as time has worn down Telemakhos' faith that his father will succeed in returning, he doesn't think he's ever before doubted that Odysseus wants to.

The stranger's careless words awaken that doubt in his heart.

He looks away, expression blank.

Throughout this journey he has tempered his hopes carefully, even when Menelaos gave him news of his father's survival, even with Athena's hand on his shoulder. But now that doubt threatens to smother the kindling of hope he had left.

But when he looks back he still smiles, good natured, and shakes his head at the Kretan's assumption. "We were only visiting in Pylos; making the most of Lord Nestor's good hospitality. I had been on an errand with his son to Sparta, now I must do as I promised and take the message onwards to Ithaka."

The question is not worth answering directly. After all, every man onboard this ship lost a father or brother or uncle to the war, when those twelve black ships failed to return. Telemakhos is only special because his father was King----- and because his father is allegedly still alive.

And yes, if their mission were not time sensitive, he would be more careful with their destination. Perhaps he would even set course for Pylos once more, and ask for Nestor's help. But with the urgency Athena had sent him, and the promise he's already made to Theoclymenus, he knows that he would rather take the risk of this stranger than face the far more likely consequences of not heading straight home.

The young captain's reaction to this yarn sounds suspiciously like a judgment, which almost makes Odysseus laugh. The story may have been false, but that's true enough. If Athena herself came to him now, he would be wondering what trick she had hidden under her helm.

He notices, of course, that no promise to help him is forthcoming. Whether he would believe it or not.

That being as it is, he hardly wants to share his intended destination, even if it means yet more setbacks. He had known the raft might not bear him as far as Ithaka. But the question is ordinary; it's the brooding he hears—or perhaps imagines—in the last comment that catches Odysseus' attention.

"Ah... Krete. No." He uncrosses his arms, holding the edge of his seat in more open body language, at odds with his guarded eyes. "Krete remembers all my sins. You're right: I did have a wife once, and we had three daughters. But the girls are all grown and married long since, and they will be happier to have a message from me than to have me in the flesh. Or their husbands will, at any rate. A father-in-law is about as welcome a guest as a fox in a coop."

If the next words come out barbed, well, he was needled first.

"And you? Did one of the noble sons of Pylos bid you and your mother farewell to fight at Troy?"

[wonderingprince]

Ben ducks his head a little, a similar feeling of fondness spreading through him---- he had enjoyed the time he'd spent with Athena, enjoyed her company, without even taking into account how important her help had been for him.

There's a reason he prays regularly, and it's not much to do with looking for answers.

Hard? He grins, a huff of laughter. "It was, for a while." A pre-teen boy, whose strange dreams and nightmares have coalesced into memory. To be suddenly so much older than your peers, to remember a different world with different values. Those first few years had been messy, but he'd withdrawn into himself to contain the worst of that mess. And he'd adapted, like he always has.

"It took a while to reconcile that I'm not just Telemakhos. Who I am now is just as real. That's why----" He smiles, lightly, though it doesn't fully reach his eyes. "I'm okay with continuing on as I am. This life is real too."

That wisdom doesn't stop the yearning, of course. For the old life, his island and his family. For his parents---- perhaps he feels it more keenly, having no parents this time around, but the desire for his father's hand on his shoulder, his mother's arms around him---- it hurts, sometimes. 

That equilibrium he'd reached has been unsettled by Ganymede's appearance. That desperate want for familiarity is almost doubled. He breathes out, perhaps sitting even more still than before. "You lived through it all," he points out, delicately, "that doesn't sound easy, either."

Theoretically, he knows more about Ganymede from recent retellings than he ever learnt from the occasional bard's tale back in the day. The sum of that knowledge still amounts to not much. And this modern world is so very different.

Ganymede finds himself unsurprised at the answer, when it comes.

Not so much in the careful phrasing, even if it's that, too. More in the considerations put forth and the way that, still, there is maybe some thread of want woven through Telemakhos' tone.

"If you're sure." Ganymede nods, tapping his lips. "Athena was fond of you, you know. I know that much. So it wouldn't really be an imposition - on me or her, I don't think. The withdrawal didn't mean we haven't been on the mortal plane since it happened, and not everyone was happy with it, but I understand it was... necessary."

Scrunching his nose, Ganymede huffs quietly.

"You know of the Bronze Age Collapse? Apparently belated effects not of the war, but the battle with the giants. What I mean is, there's probably several reasons as to why you might not have gotten an answer yet."

Stretching out in his chair, not quite slumping, Ganymede tilts his head back, studying the cafe's ceiling for a moment. Something like this is undoubtedly part of the reason memories are usually - or should, at least - wiped away with the help of the Lethe. But if he was in Telemachos - or anyone else's position - Ganymede would rather remember, than not.

"It must have been hard," he says as he looks back down, voice quiet, the meaning encompassing so many different possible things.

[wonderingprince]

Telemakhos smiles, but it feels forced. He's sure his life would have been just as difficult if his father had been a god; different, of course, but difficult all the same. He never wanted that. He's never wanted for anything except his father.

And now he has him. He thinks he shouldn't feel anything but gratitude, relief. He doesn't really know what he feels, but it's more complicated than that. Even if he could understand what he was feeling, it would be impossible to put it into words.

But the hand in his hair, fingers scratching across his scalp; it's grounding and it's comforting, and it's new. It distracts him from his spiralling thoughts, and after just a moment of hesitation he shifts slightly on the stone step, leaning that bit closer to his father.

"A god couldn't come home," he says, after a moment. "I wouldn't want that."

Because Athena had been here, cared about him, helped him. Taught him and scolded him and made him think. But then she'd be gone again, leaving as quickly as she arrived.

His father sits solidly on the step beside him. He's not going to disappear into thin air.

Odysseus is looking ahead, surveying the empty courtyard, without fixing on any detail in particular. His eyes are already wet, but the tears don't fall.

Telemakhos' words are no new wound. They're the reason that he told Telemakhos who he was, but not Penelope. He had not intended at first to tell either of them, not until he was sure of his course, but Penelope had something their son did not. The chance to recognize him.

Odysseus would have borne it somehow, if he had to wait and wait and wait for his son to find something in his face that he knew. He would have. But playing the lost stranger at his own doorstep would not have been a disguise, then; it would have been the truth.

"Thought your mother got you off a god, maybe?"

In spite of it all, there's a glimmer of humor in Odysseus' weary voice. He lowers himself beside Telemakhos with a little groan of the effort that comes with his age and old pains. "Well. I am certainly not that."

He pulls his cloak about his knees with one hand, and with the other he scratches Telemakhos' head through his hair.