#telemachus fluff

Of course, after the king of Iticha finally returned home after his long voyage, you can only imagine the feast thrown in his honour. Kings and warriors were invited to praise Odysseus for his return.

Here you were, sitting next to your soon-to-be husband, as he downed his 6th goblet of wine. You had never watched him drink this much, nor had you ever seen him act the way he is now.

He was yelling and boasting about God knows what, keeping up with the other grown men at the table who were equally as drunk as he was. Hearty laughter and fists banging the table, and all you could do was make concerned eye contact with Queen Penelope as you silently waited for the night to end.

...

After what felt like 20 years, you carried your drunken fiancé back to his sleeping quarters, his hand draped over your shoulder as you struggled to walk him back. Penelope had offered to let the servants carry him, but you'd feel awful to make them endure such struggles.

Each step of the way, Telemachus always found some new interesting thing in the castle halls and tried so hard to run to see them. It was like having a dog on a leash trying to keep it from harassing a squirrel.

Finally, in his room, you lay the prince down on his extremely comfortable bed and were about to leave the room to give the maids a warning of his potential hangover in the morning, when suddenly you hear the slurring of words behind you.

"Heeeyyy whereyagoin?"

You turn back to see Telemachus staring at you with his big puppy dog eyes. He attempts to get up, yet stumbles back into bed immediately, groaning softly.

You made your way back to his side and spoke softly.

"You need to rest. You drank way too much tonight."

His face turned as if you spoke a foreign language to him. Then, a huge smile was plastered on his flushed face.

"You're s'per prettyyy," each word dragged into the next.

You cooed at his adorable face and words, and placed a hand to cup his face.

That's when he started giggling like a high-school girl who got asked out by her crush.

He held your hand and started kissing it softly, and you tried to hold back all laughter due to his feverish actions.

"Hiiiiii," He looked up at you with just pure love in his eyes, you could tell he didn't know what the hell was going on, but that didn't matter to him cause all he saw was you.

"Hello, Telemachus." You chuckled out with a hand over your mouth.

"You're s'pretty," He said once again. His smile still bright and his eyes filled with love and admiration.

"Uh huh?" You responded, absolutely amused by his current state.

"Uh huh, uh huh, I think we should get married."

His words were like mush, barely audible, but you understood them just fine. You smile slightly and you feel your own cheeks heat up.

"I'll tell you what, if you go to sleep right now, we can get married first thing tomorrow. How about that?"

His face lit up so much that you swore a light was emitted from him. He nodded like a bobblehead and curled up to himself and closed his eyes.

'That was super easy,' you thought.

You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek softly before making your way out of the room.

Thanks for reading♡

At first, neither you nor the prince were particularly eager to fulfill those duties. You weren't keen to learn your mother’s trade and Telemachus wasn't a fan of staying still. As children, the two of you would find an opening to sneak off while your mother measured his. More often than not you would find yourselves in the kitchens, snacking on whatever the cooks found appropriate to spare.

When the two of you were found, your mothers would separate you. Penelope would scold her son, though it was never harshly. As she led Telemachus back to her chambers (where she preferred to be measured) she would tell him a story of his father the brave King Odysseus.

Yours, meanwhile, would pull you aside and give you a brief lecture about how you had to leam the skill so you could continue the work after she died. She would also add on that you and Telemachus Fed off each other's energy, so one of you needed to chose to be a leader.

You didn't know why that had to be you. Telemachus was the prince.

But that never stopped you. Every time your mother was called to the palace, you and Telemachus snuck off.

As you and the prince grew closer, it was no surprise that he chose you to be his special guest at most events. You finally decided to pick up the art of sewing the first time you were invited.

“Y/n,” Penelope had said. You had already helped your mother pack her measuring tapes and fabric swatches away. You had just bid Telemachus goodbye and were about to leave with your mother, but the queen's voice held you back. "My son would like to extend an invitation."

Telemachus stuttered, whipping his head around to glare at Penelope, who only nodded in response. Telemachus looked like he has been slapped when he slowly turned back to you.

"Y/n," he began. You hadn't noticed at the time, but he was holding onto his chiton to steady himself. "The first festival of the season is soon. I would like to invite you to be my special guest.”

Your eyes widened. You attended the annual festivals as a “special guest” anyway, since your mother was often invited as Penelope’s guest. You tagged along since you were her child.

You nodded. “I would be honored.”

Telemachus smiled, the bright and boyish smile of a boy that hadn’t yet endured hardship. Your mother thanked the prince for the invitation before pulling you along with her.

“You’re growing up,” she said as she climbed into the wagon after you. “You’re old enough to be invited to festivals by princes now. You’ll be married to him before I can even let this moment sink in.”

You laughed at her jest. She was always poking fun at your friendship with Telemachus. “Ew, mom. Telemachus and I would never get married.”

Your mother’s chuckle was a joyful sound. “Oh, I’m only kidding. Of course you’d never married a prince.” She winked at you, an action that made you think she was lying through her teeth. “Though, you will be married before I know it. That’s how time moves.”

She stroked your hair, soft touches that made a smile grace your lips. The two of you exchanged a glance before the conversation shifted.

—

It was only after you received the prince’s invitation that you took an interest in your mother’s trade. Although your mother had ensured you never looked a fool when you accompanied her to these festivals, you wanted what you wore this time to be your own. Made by your own hands and paraded on your body proudly because you had made it.

Your mother helped, of course. She made sure the seams were sturdy and guided you in the embroidery you stitched along the hem, but the design choices were entirely your own.

It was good for a first try at anything. The fabric held together well and the stitches were finely done, but you would look back at it years later and recognize the tremble of your hand. The unsteady olive branches were more obvious to your now trained eye, but you regarded the garment with endearment.

When you found yourself longing for a simpler time, you pulled the cloak from the chest beneath your bed and held it close. The faint smell of dust grounded you and with it, you felt close to your mother.

It was a thing for comfort, often draped at the foot of your bed as a reminder of where your passion started. You’d smile at it fondly and remember the joy you often felt while sitting over a needle and thread.

—

The first five suitors vying for Penelope's hand arrived as a group when you were sixteen. They came to Ithaca in grand ships and bore the emblems of their kingdoms with pride. You and your mother were called to the palace to fashion extravagant garments for the suitors.

It didn't surprise you when your mother fell I'll soon after. You blamed the suitors' arrogance and loud mouthed squalor. Their demands and constant dissatisfaction with their clothes left your mother slaving away day and night. You knew from the moment you met those pompous suitors that they would cause a while slew of trouble.

Early in your mother's illness, when the only ailments she showed were fatigue and a paled complexion, Queen Penelope proposed that your small family of two move into the palace. That way, she said, your mother wouldn't have to take the long and tiring journey as often. That, along with the fact that your mother grew weaker as the days passed. If she needed assistance, then the kingdom's finest physicians would be close by.

In her final days, you spent more time with Telemachus than had recently been allowed. While your mother slept, the Prince would slip into the room with scrolls and maps any chance he got. He would sit with you at the table, signing off on papers and considering policies while you embroidered and beaded clothing. The two of you had been too busy to see each other lately, so you regarded those hours highly—even the ones where not a single word was exchanged.

“Who is that for?” he would ask. You would tell him the name of the suitor who had ordered it and he would hum, offering an off handed comment in hopes of making you chuckle.

Your mother passed before the worst of the suitors arrived. Queen Penelope encouraged you to continue residing in the palace. Once your grieving period was over, she said, she would be sure to pay you for any work you completed for her, Telemachus, and the suitors.

You were back to work three days after her death. The suitors were relentless in their demands. While you were mourning they would pound against the doors of your chamber and call for your expertise to dress them.

Telemachus had tried to get them to stop bothering you once. The laws of Xenia had been thrown back in his face and he had been tossed against your bedroom wall.

That had been your final straw. You tired of their clambering and regretted that your closest friend had to get involved, so you continued your work in a black veil and robes.

—

After a few weeks, you had lost your lace veil. Folded and put it in the same box that held your first cloak. The black veil was an heirloom from your mother. One that her grandmother had made to mourn the loss of her son and passed down until it reached you. You planned to preserve it so you could continue the tradition, and you feared that it would ruin with how reckless the suitors were.

You still wore black and pinned your hair out of your face. It fell down your back in a way that resembled a veil, but your face was uncovered. When the suitors saw that, they took their chance without care of the color of your clothes.

The first time it happened, you were carrying rolls of golden and silver fabric. Penelope had requested a new dress to welcome men that had allied with Odysseus during the Trojan War to Ithaca. You weren’t sure the official business they were coming for, but you couldn’t reject a request from the queen.

You often wandered through the palace and passed suitors. They rarely paid any mind to you, regarding you as a servant like many others. The only difference, really, was that you weren’t seen as desirable.

You weren’t sure what changed that day.

The rolls of fabric slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor and unrolling some. With a sigh, you dropped to your knees and pulled them back toward you one by one. Even though you hadn’t seen anyone in the hall, it only took a moment for a pair of helping hands to appear in your vision. You glanced up.

Antinous. The golden rings in his hair glinted in the sunlight as he rerolled the fabric and handed it back to you with a gleaning grin. You tentatively took it back, your hands shaking as you set it to your side.

“Careful, seamstress.” His voice was a low timbre. A sound that might have made you swoon if he were anyone else. From him, though, the tone made you shake. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face.”

You pulled back when he reached forward. His grin widened and his brows raised in amusement.

“Don’t be afraid,” he mused with his smooth voice. The handsome man shifted so he knelt before you, reaching forward once again and grabbing hold of your cheek. “I won’t hurt you, seamstress. I’m only curious about why the prince clings to you.”

You stumbled back, pushing yourself away from Antinous with your heart pounding in your ears. He followed, but you were quick to push yourself to your feet and step away.

“Leave me.” You tried to make it a command, firm in the same way you had heard Penelope speak to the suitors, but your voice came out with a tremble. “Prince Telemachus will—”

“Prince Telemachus is weak, and he cannot protect you,” Antinous taunted. He took slow steps, one of his large enough to equal two of yours. It wasn’t long before you found yourself cornered. “It is not well for you to call upon him.”

Footsteps sounded down the hall. You wanted to look—to see who it was—but you knew that if you did, Antinous would take the opportunity to bend you to his will. Despite the way your veins filled with fear, you held the arrogant suitor’s unwavering gaze. You tried not to flinch and tried to move away when he reached, but you were not swift enough. He firmly grabbed you by the shoulder, holding you in place and pressing himself against you.

“Antinous.” It was Amphinomus, the kindest and most respectable of the suitors. His copper hair gleamed in your peripheral. “Leave her. She belongs to the prince.”

You flushed, embarrassed that someone else had to cut in. Not only that, but the fact that he had to put you under the claim of another almost made your skin crawl. It would have if Amphinomus had said anyone besides the prince.

“You cannot hide behind Telemachus forever, seamstress,” Antinous sneered. “He is of a higher rank, and he will soon bore of what you cannot give him. When he does, it will be me who takes your broken pieces and forces you back together.”

Antinous seemed to take pleasure in the way you flinched when he stepped closer. His lips curled into a smirk before he turned away, the metal detailings of his chlamys clicking together.

You were shaking, so distracted by what had just happened that you hadn’t even noticed Amphinomus gathering the fabric and holding it out to you. When he noticed your state, he held the rolls closer to him and led you back to your room with a steady hand between your shoulder blades.

It wasn’t until you crossed the threshold to your chambers that you felt able to take a full breath. You gasped and clutched at your chest, letting the air fill your lungs in heavy breaths.

You fell to your knees. It was embarrassing, but there was nothing you could have done to prevent the way your knees buckled beneath your weight. Amphinomus set the rolls of fabric against the wall before he knelt beside you, his hands hovering over your form.

“Are you alright?” Not exactly, but you nodded anyway. Amphinomus gave you another moment to catch your breath before he took your hand and guided you to your feet. “Prince Telemachus would like to know—”

“Do not tell Telemachus,” you snapped, meeting the kind suitor’s gaze. “Please. He has no claim over me, and it is embarrassing enough that you came to my aid.”

“Antinous would have—” You shook your head and held your hand out, stopping the words. Amphinomus’ lips pressed into a line before he relented. “Fine. I will not speak a word, but you must know that if I come across another scenario that you are in the center of, I will help.”

That was all he said before he left. The door closed behind him with a soft thud and you were left in the quiet serenity of your room.

—

You were sure Amphinomus had told the prince. Telemachus hadn’t spoken a word to you about it, but after the incident he was by your side more often. He rarely came into your room, but it seemed that any time you had to leave it, the prince was trailing you.

That was fine. Let him uselessly follow you and see that you didn’t need his assistance.

Except, it seemed that the one day he wasn’t trailing you, Eurymachus found it appropriate to sidle up beside you and place a possessive hand on your waist.

You froze, tray of food in hand. You had been retrieving the queen’s lunch. She had invited you to eat with her before you had to continue your work, so you figured you’d grab the meal yourself on your way to her chambers. You’d passed her suitors, but they hadn’t paid any mind to you initially. You assumed that you’d be able to pass through without trouble.

Eurymachus whispered something in your ear. You couldn’t hear it over the rushing panic in your veins, but you could imagine what he said with how his hand shifted to possessively grab at your hips.

You glanced at him through your peripheral. He was shorter than many of the men—maybe even Queen Penelope—but that didn’t deter him from taking what he wanted with an arrogant smile and a fine toothed bite. There was a sweet venom in his words, a charm to his voice that might have made the right person fall. He wasn’t handsome like Antinous, but he could talk his way out of anything with that silver tongue.

He stayed like that, possessively clinging to your form even when you moved away. His rough hands grabbed at your clothing, trying to slip under the fabric to get a feel at what you covered. To see if it was worth it.

It must have been. Any time you tried to slip out of his grasp, Eurymachus would only tighten his hold on you. You moved down the corridors with him, though you began to realize that he was shifting you in a direction different than your intended.

“Eurymachus.” You recognized the voice instantly as Telemachus’. When you turned to see him, he was fuming with a quiet rage that was barely contained beneath his skin. “Let her go.”

Eurymachus barked with laughter. “Or what, prince? You are not king. You hold no power here.”

“This is my household. The law of Xenia demands that you respect it as we have respected you.” Telemachus took a step closer. Eurymachus took two back with you still in his arms. Telemachus’ expression tightened. Let this be a game of cat and mouse, then.

“But she is not.” The grin Eurymachus gave the prince was wide-toothed and cunning. “You cannot protect her yourself, little wolf, so she is anyone’s to claim.”

Your heart seized. It seemed that anytime you left your room, someone tried to stake a claim through your being. You wouldn’t let it be, if the men you were up against weren’t so large and unfair.

“Let her go, Eurymachus,” the prince repeated. “She is not worth it. If you are seeking someone to lay with, then there are plenty of servants willing to do so.”

“I’m afraid they don’t have the same charm as your seamstress does. I’ve always loved a woman with nimble fingers.” You pulled away when the suitor reached to trace your jaw with his fingertips. It made a smirk cross his face and an amused breath fall from his lips. “Tell me, prince, is she any good?”

Telemachus’ brows furrowed. He looked about ready to leap forward and pull you from Eurymachus’ grasp, but stayed planted in his position. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t you? You don’t spend as much time as you have with her without getting a taste.”

Telemachus cringed. “Of course I haven’t. I do not value desire over connection. Now, let her go. I will not ask again.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. Come on, now. I’m sure you and I could enjoy some quality time with this pretty thing.”

That was the first time the Prince of Ithaca put his hands on a suitor first. He shoved Eurymachus away from you, a hand planted on your shoulder to push you behind him. The tray of food you’d been carrying dropped, its clanging against the floor and alerting anyone nearby to the dispute.

You watched with your hands over your mouth as Telemachus shoved the suitor against the wall. You knew it was not something done with his true force—Eurymachus let him do that. You had seen the prince get thrown around by men weaker than Eurymachus, there was no doubt the man was downplaying himself to make a fool of the prince.

“I said to leave her.” There was an edge to Telemachus’ voice that you had never heard before. A venom that you didn’t know he was capable of producing. “Or I will have a guard take you away.”

“You can’t do that,” Eurymachus taunted, his teeth gleaming in his cunning smirk. “You are too respectable to break the law. What terror do you think Zeus would bring down if you did?”

For just a second, Telemachus faltered. He loosened his white-knuckled grip just enough for a semblance of color to return to them and his brow smoothed. Eurymachus took the opening, striking the prince across the face. The suitor barked with laugher when the prince hit the wall. He turned his gaze to you, eyes blazing with the fires of lust.

Lucky for you, Eurymachus left with a sneer, spitting at the prince’s feet. Scattered around the hall, other suitors had began to gather. When Eurymachus walked away, though, they dispersed with quiet footsteps.

Telemachus lifted his head, brushing his dark hair out of his face and ghosting his fingertips over his cheek. When he pulled away, blood stained his hand and dripped down his cheek. One of Eurymachus’ rings had left a nasty gash.

You softly gasped, stepping closer and taking the prince’s face in your hands. He allowed you to, glad that the suitors had already gone so they didn’t see this moment of vulnerability. Your thumb grazed the bronze skin beside the cut, brows furrowed in concern and lips pursed.

“Are you alright?” he asked before you could suggest seeing his nurse. You gave him a nod, letting your hands drop back to your side.

“We should find Eurycleia,” you said, forgetting the meal you had spilled as you gently tugged Telemachus’ robe, urging him to follow you. He did, trailing behind you like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Eurycleia was swift with her work. She cleaned Telemachus’ wound and sewed the skin shut with a stitch. It would take a few days, she said, but it would heal fine.

You waited by the doorway, arms crossed and folded in on yourself, as she checked the prince. When she finished, Telemachus went with you to your room.

When you crossed the threshold and the door shut behind the prince, your knees buckled and you collapsed. It seemed as though the weight of the day’s events had finally dropped onto your shoulders. For what it was worth, Telemachus was quick to fall by your side and comfort you.

You let yourself fall into Telemachus’ arms willingly. It wasn’t like with Amphinomus where you were embarrassed to do so. With Telemachus, it almost felt natural—so much so that tears had slipped from your eyes without your knowing. His arms fit around your frame in the same perfect way that your body slotted against his.

He dried your tears, murmuring soft reassurances in your ear and rocking back and forth. He held onto you tightly, his forehead pressed into your hair to keep you as close as possible. He was silently praying, though you weren’t sure to what god.

There was an unspoken agreement that passed between the two of you by the time you pulled yourself away and Telemachus pushed himself to his feet. You curtly thanked him. He offered a nod before he left.

You never spoke of it again, but every day you would remind yourself of his touch and what it felt like to be held so gently. You wondered if, one day, the prince might hold you with love.

—

Since the arrival of the suitors, it was rare that you and Telemachus could find a moment to be truly alone. You often found yourself drowned in silky fabrics and sparkling threads, and Telemachus found himself quite busy as a source of entertainment for the violent men's whims. He did trail you when you left your room, but that was all. Interaction between you two was rare.

It was a good thing, you supposed, that Telemachus was leaving for whatever diplomatic meeting he needed to attend. Even if it meant you wouldn't have that small layer of protection against the suitors. Without his leave, though, you wouldn't have had this long of a block with him.

"When do you leave?" you asked as the Prince stepped onto the stone block pushed to the side of your room. Telemachus was the only one allowed in your personal chambers, save for any maid or servant you knew. Penelope as well, but you often went to her own room so she could avoid needless interactions with her suitors.

"Four days." Your eyes widened. That was so soon—thankfully you were only tailoring and refitting clothes the prince already had. You wouldn't have had time to make anything entirely new. "I'll only be gone a month."

"And this trip is to inquire about your father?"

Telemachus nodded. "Soldiers that fought beside him in Troy have risen to power. I'm going to hear about my father's possible whereabouts and learn their varying fighting styles."

You hummed, fingers brushing against the golden skin of his shoulder. For a moment, you didn't say anything.

You blinked yourself out of whatever stupor you were in, clearing your throat before moving away. You didn't even have the measure in your hand, so there was no excuse for your lingering touch.

"You will learn a lot," you said, if only to diffuse whatever tension you might have been imagining. You couldn't help but wonder, though, where the muscle on his build had come from. For a long time, Telemachus had been a lanky boy with little more than skin on his bones. He was still slender, but his arms were sturdier than they had been.

"That is what I hope." Your hands were nearly shaking when you lifted them to his arm again, measuring tape in hand this time. "And if I find that my father is dead, then I'd at least like to strengthen foreign relations. And myself, of course. I'd like to better protect both you and my mother from the suitors."

Your gaze lifted to his as you stretched the length of your rope across his collarbone. There, looking up into his clear blue eyes, you wondered two things: the first was a question as to whether or not this was too intimate a position for a pair like the prince and his seamstress.

The second thing you wondered was when he had grown into his features and became handsome.

Your mouth had dried. You darted your tongue over your lips to wet them before looking back down at your hands. "I can protect myself," you said, though your voice came out quiet and weak.

"I'm aware," Telemachus started, reaching up to adjust his chiton once you pulled away. "You shouldn't have to, though. Those men should know not to treat someone with such abhorrent behavior."

A soft sound of amusement fell from your lips. It made Telemachus' own quirk up.

"Well," you began,"I don't think they've ever been polite to begin with."

"No, I don't think so either."

The two of you shared a laugh, the finals bells of it ringing out and bouncing around Telemachus' head as you stepped away. You jotted down a few number on a strip of parchment in front of you, feeling the warmth and presence of the prince creeping closer to your body.

"I like this," he mused, reaching for a length of blue fabric that shifted shades with the light. Your gaze flicked to his hand and you watched his touch brush against the fabric. "Could you make me something from it? When you have time, of course."

You nodded, lifting the fabric and draping it lazily over his shoulder. "A sash, perhaps? Or a chlamys?"

He smiled at you. It was a soft thing that he had shown you hundreds of times before, but this one made something unfamiliar flutter in your chest.

"Whatever you think will look nice."

You returned his smile and continued your work. The rest of the time was spent mostly in silence, aside from the occasional comment exchanged.

By the time he left your room, you found that your heart was pounding in your chest. It was odd, leaving an interaction with the prince feeling that way.

But it was not unwelcome.

—

The month without Telemachus in the palace was nothing short of torture. Without him, the queen's suitors had found that you acted as an ample replacement for entertainment. Morning, noon, and night one (or multiple) would come banging on your bedroom door and demanding for you to come out.

You only obeyed once, a time when they had grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against their large bodies. From then on, most of your days were spent with Penelope in her chambers.

"My son is returning soon," she mused from where she was perched at the window. "I've received word that he wishes for you to meet him at the docks upon his arrival."

"Me?" The queen nodded. "Why?"

Penelope smiled faintly, like she knew something you didn't. "He didn't say. He only expressed that he'd like you to greet him."

You hummed. If that were true, then why had he sent the request to his mother and not to you? Had he been too embarrassed to ask?

You gave Penelope a nod. "Alright. Do you know how long, exactly, until he's back?"

"Two days."

And with that, the topic was dropped.

—

Telemachus' face lit up like the heavens when he realized you were the one waiting for him. He was quick to end whatever conversation he'd been having with the ship's captain and even quicker to meet you where the cobbled pavement met the dock's wood.

"Y/n." He smiled at you and you stared in shock (and slight awe, though you'd never say that) at how much he had changed in just a month.

It wasn't just physically. Though, his arms were thicker and his collarbone was more defined than it had been. But Telemachus seemed to take up more space with an infectious smile and bright eyes, as well. You couldn't quite explain it, but he was different. This was not the same prince that had left.

He called your name again, pulling you out of your own wonderment with furrowed brows and a concerned tone. "Are you alright? You look alarmed."

"What? Oh, yes. I-I'm fine," you stuttered. "Uhm . . . What were you saying?"

"I was just saying that I bought you something." Despite the changed demeanor, you supposed he was still the overeager prince you had always known. He still fidgeted with his own hands, cracking his knuckles and picking at his cuticles. "We went to a market in Crete and I found some things I thought you'd like."

"Oh." You gave him a tentative smile. He'd thought of you while he was away? "What did you get me?"

"It'll ruin the surprise if I tell you." Telemachus chuckled, falling into step beside you when you started walking.

"It's a surprise?"

"Of course." He flashed you a grin. "I'll have it sent to your room. I do think you'll enjoy it."

You returned his smile. "I'm sure I will."

—

The next time you saw the Prince of Ithaca, you were wearing the finely woven peplos he had gifted you.

Upon seeing it, Telemachus' lips curled into a gentle smile. Draped over his shoulder was the chlamys you had crafted from the blue fabric he requested while he was away.

Your lips curved cheekily. “I take it you like your new chlamys?”

“It is wonderful.” Telemachus reached for the hem absentmindedly. “Did you enjoy your gifts?”

You nodded, grin widening into something happier and more genuine. “I love it. Though, I wonder if it’s too much for a servant?”

Along with the silk peplos you now wore, Telemachus had also sent a box of small trinkets to your room. Small, nearly indiscernible things that were souvenirs from Crete. That, and he had also wrapped a fine pair of scissors. Silver. Sharper than any pair you or your mother had owned in your lifetime. The handles of them were shaped into cranes and tiny gems of obsidian had been set where the eyes went.

But Telemachus shook his head. “Nonsense. You are not a servant, you are my oldest friend. It would be inconsiderate if I did not think of you while away.”

Your heart skipped. You couldn’t tell if it was in disappointment or content. It was true, you were Telemachus’ oldest friend and vice versa, but perhaps there was a small sliver of your being that wished for more. The same small sliver that had hoped he’d been thinking of you differently while away.

You didn’t let it show. You let another faint smile grace your lips. “I thank you anyway, my prince. It was a beautiful gift.”

Telemachus hummed. Then, very slowly and very hesitantly, he took your hands into his. “I was wondering,” he began, his voice lowered like he was sharing a secret, “would you care to join me tonight? I’ve learned that the stars will be the brightest they have been in decades tonight.”

You could feel the callouses on Telemachus’ hands. The ones he gained from years of putting his hands to work. Of yielding a sword and learning Ithacan fighting techniques and honor. Despite that, you wanted to hold the roughness closer.

“I’d love to,” you told him. “I’m sure the moon will look beautiful, as well.”

Telemachus smiled. A wide, boyish one. The same one you hadn’t seen him give in the publicity of the palace corridors since the suitors arrived. He lifted one of your hands, planting a soft kiss on your knuckles. “It’s a date, then.”

When he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought.

—

The air was cold. Telemachus had wrapped his cloak around your shoulders to protect you from the atmospheric chill, though you found that the thing keeping you warmest was the lingering touch of the prince’s hands against your arms.

He’d met you at your room after dinner. You followed him through the palace with soft chatter until you reached the gardens, where he drew you closer to a blanket that had been lain out. There were stones atop the corners so it didn’t blow away in the crisp breeze.

A huff of amusement had fallen from your lips at the sight. You teased, “How fancy.”

Telemachus smiled. “Only the best.”

You shivered, and that was when Telemachus unclipped his cloak and hung it over your frame. “I don’t need it,” he told you, but you could already see the gooseflesh rising on his arms.

When you settled on the blanket, you settled close to him. “So you can be warm, as well,” you told him, unclipping his cloak and arranging it so it fell over both of you. Despite the soft shivers and raised skin, Telemachus was warm.

He smiled at you—sweetly and softly. Like he believed you to be the very reason the stars shone so bright and the moon hung so high. You returned it for just a moment before casting your gaze to the heavens.

Although your eyes were on the sky, your thoughts were far from it. What was this? Telemachus had said a date, and you hadn’t corrected him. Did you care that you didn’t? Did you want it to be a date? Was that what he wanted?

You couldn’t quite pin down when you had started viewing the prince in a different light. When playful jabs turned into flirtatious teasing. When actions became less intentional and more because you cared. It had slipped and transformed between your fingers before you could even know what was happening.

You spoke silently with him, exchanging stories about the constellations you had heard hundreds of times. Perseus and Andromeda, the crowns of Ariadne and Dionysus, Orion and Scorpius, who stood at opposite sides of the atmosphere. You told the stories to each other, editing every other one to make a happy ending.

The moonlight reflected off of the prince’s grey eyes when he looked at you. It made your breath catch. Truly, when did you start to see him as more?

You wondered, for a moment, what it might be like. Telemachus was a prince, though, and you were nothing more than his seamstress, so you didn’t wish to dwell on it long and end the thought with a torn apart heart.

Telemachus seemed to have no such care for his title. When he met your gaze, his lips curved with feeling. His gaze was that of a caring lover’s and when you absently commented on it, his smile only widened. “Perhaps I wish to be that,” he whispered to you.

You had flushed, the back of your neck suddenly warmed by the heat of his words. “Would a prince like yourself truly be happy with a seamstress?” you found yourself asking, if only to distract from the fact that he wished to be your lover.

“I would not tire of you, and I would not grow bored.” His tone was firm in a way that said he knew something. A reassurance. “What Antinous said to you was a lie. He was upset that you would not let him touch you.”

So Amphinomus had told Telemachus about that. You pursed your lips. “Who’s to say I’ll let you?”

“I do not wish to,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Not now, or soon, anyway. I hope that one day you’ll share my affections enough to let me, but that is not what I seek now. Now, I seek your heart and your mind. I seek to be yours, if you’ll let me.”

You blinked at him. Being so close to the prince was making it hard to think, but you had a feeling that you’d have hazy thoughts no matter how far you were from him. You pulled your gaze away from him, turning it to where Selene’s work shone brightly in the sky.

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

Telemachus’ fingers grazed your jaw, turning your head back. His gaze searched yours, and he gave the slightest raise of his dark brows. You gave the softest nod in return, and he pressed his lips to yours under the moonlit sky.

In the future, far down the line when Telemachus is crowned king of Ithaca, you may not be able to have this. Telemachus will be a monarch and you will return to your role as a seamstress where the feel of his lips on yours is nothing but a distant fantasy. But for now, he is only a prince, and when the prince of Ithaca wishes to have you as a lover, there is no harm in saying no.

This will end, you know that. But you will let yourself have all things mortal while you can.

y/n developed a personality like halfway through and then it disappeared and then came back uhm. i have no explanation sorry y’all

anyway hope you enjoyed ♥️

Suddenly, he heard the howls of wolves, followed by the sound of their approaching footsteps. He sprinted as fast as he could, not knowing that he was driving himself deeper into the woods. Glancing over his shoulder to see if the wolves were still behind him, he failed to see where he was going, his foot struck something, and with a crash, he knocked over a jar of water.

"Hey! My water!" a voice shouted.

Telemachus turned to see a broken bowl, the water spilling onto the dirt. From the doorway, an annoyed sorcerer popped their head out, eyes narrowing at the mess.

"My apologies, I did not watch where I was going." he blurted, scrambling to piece the bowl back together.

The mage watched him, amused by how this clumsy man was. "Don’t bother," they said. "I’ve been meaning to replace that bowl anyway."

Crossing their arms, they gave him a curious look. "Why are you here, anyway? This part of the woods isn’t safe.".

He sighed, the very thought of them made him wanna vomit “I was taking a walk… the intruders… inside my house were too loud, I couldn't sleep.”

You open the door to your house and invite him to  “Come Inside, Prince Telemachus.”

“How.. Do you know my name…?” the prince says while parting the beaded Curtains.

You point outside the window “It's because the surrounding trees within 2 kilometers of my house have a spell cast on them.”

You guide him towards one of your work tables, on it a black piece of paper, then snap your fingers, then suddenly a paper with a symbol materializes before his eyes. “This sigil is a hybrid between a protection and illusion spell, it helps my house stay hidden from unwanted visitors.”

“Unwanted visitors? But how was I able to enter?” Asks the prince.

You sigh as you think back to the past souls who came to you for aid. “Before I moved into the forests near Ithaca, I was in another area, my spells and magic became known to the town and I was sought after for favors… “ you wince. “Most of them for very bad reasons.”

You turn to the prince “The reason why you got in is because you either have good intentions or… you simply got lost, one of the two, the spell makes the forest twist itself to keep bad people out and lost.”

“That's quite clever, does the forest possess a mind of its own?”  

You think about it for a second “No, it's linked to me in a way that I…I can’t seem to describe…..”  

After some time in conversation, you look out the window and you see the sky is in hues of deep violet and gold. “Night is approaching.” you offer your hand to the prince “allow me to accompany you back to the city, Prince.”

The Prince looks at your hand, then softly moves it back into your chest. “Do tell me, precisely, why it is necessary for me to hold onto your hand. Can't you simply walk in front of me and I follow close behind?” 

“It isn't as simple as that..” 

As the prince strides toward the forest, a root suddenly sprouts from the ground, catching his foot and sending him tumbling forward.  

He quickly pushes himself up, brushing the dirt from his clothes before turning to face the forest, his expression somewhere between surprised and kind of.. offended. “Is it a magical rule? Will I be trapped here if I refuse?”  

“No!” You huff. “It’s just… the forest doesn’t really trust people on their own. If you go in without me, it might—”  

“Ohhh,” he interrupts, smirking. “So you want  to hold my hand.”  

You sputter. “Also No! I—”  

He chuckles. “You must know that I merely jest with you.” Then, before you can argue, he reaches out and takes your hand, fingers warm against yours. He gives it a light squeeze. “There, lead the way sorcerer.”

You walk forward, pulling the Prince along as you do. The Forest's carefully threaded spell unravels just a bit as the fauna and rocks shift to clear a path for the both of you.

The suitors have gotten bolder, more loud in their threats, It scared him. Telemachus sits at the foot of the entrance to his mothers room. Telemachus sits, gripping a sword in one hand and a shield on the other.

Their actions have made him paranoid that the suitors might break into his mother’s room while she is… vulnerable. While the Queen’s chambers are heavily guarded, and he does not doubt the abilities of those Guards… he cannot shake the chilling feeling of unease.

The Queen pushes the door to her chambers but it gets caught against.. Something solid.. And it’s preventing her from not letting the doors completely open.

She peeks her head around the door and sees her son sleeping on the floor with a sword and shield on his person.

The Queen, Penelope, kneels down beside her son and gently shakes him awake. The prince stirs and his eyes open lazily. “Mother..?”

She chuckles at the sight of her son's bed head… or rather in this case a ‘floor-head’

“Yes, it's me Telemachus.. but why are you sleeping on the ground?” Her hand gently caresses  Telemachus' soft cheek. “And your eyelids.. They are quite swollen, did you cry last night?”

He tensed up “Mother… To tell you the truth, I fear for your safety; The thought of the suitors causing you harm.. Cheats me of my rest.” 

“My son, I appreciate you being concerned for my safety.. But what more can you do? When your father left he entrusted multiple guards with the duty of protecting both you and me."

Telemachus looks away, doubt fills his soul, unconvinced by his mother’s words.

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks fills his ears as he gazes up at the ceiling, his Mother’s words occupying his head.

He knows that his mother is correct in assuming she is safe, even the guards that protected him ensured that he was secure; But he can’t help but dwell on it.

His mind drifts to you, and soon, an idea began to take shape.

Telemachus walks through the forest with his wish in mind. The forest may be dense but the path feels strangely effortless, as it's like the forest…knows his purpose and welcomes his presence. 

He is filled with amazement as he sees the forest’s spell in action. He sees the trees reposition its roots, the rocks glide aside, and vines slither away to clear a path for him. As the final trees part, his breath catches in his throat; at the sight of you.

Under the shade of a large tree, you sit there sipping your drink. You set your cup down and gesture to the seat before you and as if expecting his presence today; a second cup waits for him. 

He takes the seat in front of you, taking a slow sip at his drink. A odd, but not uncomfortable tension fills the air.

“You mustn't place the security of your mother in the hands of my magic.” 

His head snaps up, his eyebrows furrowing “Why not? Your house is protected by this..” He wildly gestures around him “..protection spell!”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn't trust me, this protective barrier has many flaws; please ask for another sorcerer to do it.” Looking away from him, you drink your beverage.

“Sorcerers are difficult to find, let alone hire!” Suddenly he stood up and seizes your hand, effectively knocking your cup out of your hand shattering it into pieces. He kneels before you begging “Please… protect my mother… grace her with your protection… I will do anything.”

You sigh “...Get up Prince, you have no business kneeling for someone like me.” He gets on his feet, his pleading eyes locking with yours.

“Very well, I shall do whatever I can to make a protection spell for your mother.”

“Thank you! Thank you… my mother means so much to me I cannot thank you enough–”

“Under one condition.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, silencing him with your gaze. “Anything regarding the spell, be it materials, herbs, or otherwise; you will provide them.”

Without warning, he pulls your hand and pulls you into a hug; his face buried in the crook of your neck, his tears staining your clothes. “I will do anything you ask.”

After endless hours of screaming, pushing, and excruciating pain, you were extremely drained. Your body was limp, energy depleted, and you just felt dead. It wasn't anything abnormal. It was normal to feel this way after giving birth, but it still dragged you down immensely.

You're lying in your bed with your newborn baby girl lying sweetly on your bare skin, you poke her face slightly and she lets out the cutest squeal and grips your finger with her tiny, chubby hand. You cooed at her adorable face. She really took after her dad a lot.

There was a knock on the door before you came to see Telemachus and his mother enter the doorway. Upon seeing the queen, a small wave of awkwardness washed over you as you realised how unprofessional you may seem. Though you had just delivered this baby, it felt unfitting to greet the queen in this state.

Telemachus rushed over to you, ensuring you felt relatively fine, then took great interest in the chunky little baby that lay calmly in your arms, cooing at her every movement, causing you to giggle slightly.

Penelope sat next to your bed, studying your features, then gave you a small smile.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Her voice was genuine and motherly.

"I'm... doing fine." Your voice is frail and meek. Truthfully, you weren't actually doing fine, considering you were in the worst amount of pain you've felt in your life, but how are you supposed to say that to the queen of the palace you currently lay in?

She hums in response before looking at Telemachus, who was still infatuated with his newborn daughter, then back at you.

"I know that your body is quite weak as of right now, and it would be cruel to allow you to take care of your baby while in a state like this –"

Before she could continue, you suddenly interrupted her

"No, no! I assure you I am just fine! I wouldn't want to be a burden.." You let out an awkward, strained laugh, but Penelope's eyebrows furrowed.

"Dear, no woman should put herself through such strain." She reassured you, "I have spoken with the king and we think it would be best if we took care of the baby whilst you take your time recovering, it would be better for you and your child." She touched your shoulder and looked at you with such loving eyes.

You look over to Telemachus, who was cradling the baby and tormenting her by poking her cheeks. Penelope cleared her throat loudly to grab the attention of the prince and gave him a look. That was when he finally paid attention to the conversation.

"Uh yeah! I think it'll be good. You'll be able to focus on your recovery, and I'll have help from my parents. They're experienced in this kind of stuff, yknow, I mean just look at me. " He gestured to himself, his pride radiating off him. You can't help but snort a little at his growing ego.

He comes closer to you and kisses your temple. "You can trust us." He whispered to you, his voice now soft and humble.

You flushed slightly at his words and pondered the idea. It wouldn't be bad. You knew these people. They treated you like one of their own, and it would be great for you to have some time to yourself after everything.

"I guess it would be fine." You muttered, still somewhat reluctant to the proposal, but what else would you possibly do?

Telemachus smiles widely while Penelope hums in agreement.

"Well then, I shall go let Odysseus know of your decision. Please, get some rest." Penelope had gotten up from her chair and made her way out of the door.

Telemachus stayed by your side, rambling about only the gods knowing what as you slowly started to succumb to your exhaustion. You hadn't noticed how tired you were until your pillow suddenly hit the pillow and everything was a blur after.

...

You wake up hours later to see Telemachus asleep, cradling the also sleeping baby in his hand. You smiled to yourself lazily and reminisced on the thought that this is now your family. Your dear husband and the child you made with love. You couldn't ask for anything more.

Thanks for reading♡

Although you've been with Telemachus for a while, any talk of marriage was quickly dismissed. It wasn't that he didn't want to marry you, far from it. It was because he knew the risks that came with it. If he were to be wed, it would confirm the suspicions of his father being dead, and once that happens, his mother would be shipped back to Sparta, where she was bound, making him the new king of Itacha.

He refused to let the people of Iticha believe that the brave king they once had was dead at sea, nor did he want to lose the last of his family he had left, and you understood it quite well, though it still pulled at you slightly.

Tonight was the night of the challenge. Telemachus was out on his diplomatic mission, causing you to feel quite lonely. You now understand what Penelope had felt for two decades. The worry and concern that overlapped every night was unbearable. You didn't know if he would return to you, nor did you know if it would be sooner than later. You'd look out of your window every night to view the sea, hoping to see a glimpse of his boat sailing back to shore, but of course, just waves could be seen.

You helped to encourage Penelope to arrange this all, knowing how much she dreaded it. You went out to the room of suitors alongside her, staying by the door as she announced the challenge's rules. You looked around the room, and it was filled with grown men driven by lust and power. They were disgusting, like pigs, it made you feel dirty just looking at them. Your eyes continue to follow the sea of men. You spot a cloaked figure in the crowd. He caught your eye as he didn't seem dangerous, although his face was covered, yet you didn't pay much mind.

Once the rules of the challenge were given, Penelope took you away from the room of the suitors and brought you to your chambers. You thank her gracefully for her company, though her words took you a bit off guard.

" I think it would be best to stay in for the night." She said. Her voice was hollow but also had a slight hint of relief and happiness. You had not pushed the issue further and obeyed her request, assuming she would be referring to the suitors and their spontaneous behaviour.

...

Later that night, the halls of the castle were filled with agonising screams and desperate pleas. You locked your doors, attempting to barricade them as much as possible. You stayed huddled in a corner, trying not to scream or move suddenly as if someone was looking for you with only a dim torch as your only source of light.

You had no idea what was going on. Your heart pounded against your chest as if it was threatening to burst out and run off, your whole body, from your head to your toes shaking vigorously. You tried to calm yourself down, but the slashes of flesh and choked pain, along with blood spattering on the walls, just got louder. You hear the loud snaps of a bow as it releases arrows. You thought it was the suitors causing a riot against each other to be the last one standing for the queen.

However, you heard the voice of an older man, his voice echoed through the palace, rage and agony led in his voice as he talked about the suitors' plans to do to his son and wife. Your blood fell cold as the realisation kicked in.

'Odysseus?!" You thought.

You gripped yourself to find comfort, hoping that nothing would happen, that no one would try to enter your room. Hot tears fall from your eyes and down your cheeks, and your breathing gets hitched when suddenly, silence.

All of the screams were gone, and everything was quiet, uncannily quiet. You froze for a moment, wondering if it was all over. You slowly move out of your stiffness, walking over to the door to press an ear to hear anything. Then, a loud knocking hit on your door. It startled you enough to fall back. Your hands quickly found your mouth, and panic began to hit once more, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

"My love...it's me." A familiar voice rang from behind to door.

Your body tensed upon hearing the voice before registering just who it was. You felt yourself start to slowly calm down from the adrenaline, and you quickly got up and rushed to the door.

"Telemachus?" A choked cry left your lips as you swung open the door. There he was, covered in blood, his clothes ripped in odd places, and his weapon discarded a few feet from the door. The air reeked of blood, and all of the torches had gone out.

You pulled him into the room and embraced him as if he would disappear at any moment, not caring about how he was completely covered in blood. He hugs you back with great compassion before kissing your face sweetly. You felt all of your worries and fears melt away now that you were in the hands of the person who made you feel safe.

Your remedy soon fades as he pulls away from your embrace and grabs hold of your hand. His eyes look straight into yours as if wanting to say something. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he suddenly fell to his knees. He looks up at you, his eyes soft and pleading.

"Y/n, my dearest, the love of my life..." His voice was raspy, but still held the same ribbon of honey that laced his voice whenever he spoke to you. You stay still in shock, watching as he hesitates slightly.

"Will you marry me?"

You automatically stumbled back a little, eyes widened and mouth agape, though you couldn't keep a smile from growing on your face.

"What?" A hand comes to your mouth, an attempt to hide the excitement in your voice, though you fail.

"I've never loved anyone the way I love you. You have stayed by my side through my hardships, my downfalls, and my upbringings. I feel myself striving to be better all because I have you by my side.

To grow and learn with you has been the highlight of my life, and I never want to let you go."

His voice is genuine and sweet, though it also shakes from nervousness.

"I don't know what the future may hold, or how we grow past this point, but I know for sure that I don't want to move forward if I don't have you by my side. You're the most courageous, funny, loving, and beautiful person I've ever met, and I love you. I want to be the man that keeps you safe, to be your home, I want to be able to call you my wife. So I ask you, Y/N. Will you marry me?"

You feel your face heating up, and tears prickled in your eyes. A rush of emotions overwhelms you. Your hands started to shake, and your heart was pounding out of your chest once more, though this time it wasn't fear. You felt yourself absolutely melt at his words. It all felt like a fever dream to you. The man that you loved and cherished is now waiting for you to accept his hand in marriage. Although it wasn't the most conventional way, you couldn't care less.

"Yes! Yes... I will marry you, Telemachus."

You leap onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. He picks you up bridal style and spins you around, his giggles filling the room and infecting you with its blissfulness. You dipped his head to land a kiss on your lips; his lips tasted metallic, but you didn't mind. Soft giggles escaped both of you as you pulled away. Happy tears fall from your eyes as you wipe them slowly. That's when a realisation sets in.

"Does this mean–?"

"Yes. My father is finally back home." His eyes were soft along with his words. You could hear the pride in his voice, and it just made your heart squeeze. You can't help but smile, imagining just how sentimental his meeting with his father was.

He had finally reunited with his father and can finally share his love with you.

You couldn't wait to finally be a part of his family.

The next morning, only groans and moans were heard throughout the palace halls. What more would you expect when the night before, every man within the palace was living off of booze?

You shuffle your way to Telemachus' quarters whilst dodging and manoeuvring through trashed furnishings and passed-out drunks with a cup of vinegar in hand.

You stood outside the door and opened it slightly. You see the hand lady you reserved before seated at the side of the bed, ensuring the extremely hungover prince didn't puke his brains out.

You indicated to her that you would have everything under control and allowed her to leave to attend to other hungover men.

Walking over to the bed, you hear a loud, distressed groan from your fiancé. Poor thing was curled up in a ball, holding his head as if it were about to explode.

You placed that vinegar on the side table near his bed and sat down on the chair the handmaid once sat in, and he looked up at you slowly.

"How are you feeling?" You smiled at him sympathetically.

He sighs dramatically and takes your hand

"Much better now that you're here."

You giggle softly, making sure not to be too loud to cause him more distress.

"You drank quite a lot last night... do you remember anything?" You questioned him. His soft rambles about marriage still lingered at the back of your mind. Although you two were already engaged, it still made your heart flutter knowing he loved you so much.

"Mmmm, not much. Why? Did I do something weird? " His tone shifted from pitiful Victorian child to the most distressed tone you've ever heard

"No, no!...Well...." You place a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard.

"Wait, what did I do!?" Panic lacing his words and his eyes.

"I'm kidding! I'm just kidding.." You chuckled at his reaction. It was priceless.

He huffs at you and turns his back to face you. You could only imagine the adorable pout he had on his face right now.

You stood slightly off the chair to run a hand down his forearm, that is, until his hand grips yours and pulls you on top of him.

You let out a soft yelp from the sudden force, causing Telemachus to laugh heartily. However, it soon led to a groan due to his pounding headache.

Now you're lying on his chest, slightly uncomfortable due to the odd position you were in, so you move yourself up, straddling yourself on his hip to look down at him.

He looks up at you through his pain, his eyes lingering on yours. You could see the red pigment on his skin start to travel from his neck to his ears and then his cheeks.

You reach over to the side table to collect the cup of vinegar and bring it down to his lips.

"Drink." You tilt to cup slightly."This will help." Your voice was soft but also somewhat commanding. He obeyed and drank it slowly. After he was done, he winced at the acidic taste.

"It can't be that bad." You rolled your eyes, placing the cup back on the side table.

"It's horrible!" He cried out

"Well, you shouldn't have drunk so much."

He sighed heavily, then pulled his hand up to cup your face, moving to the back of your neck and pulling you down with him. Your lips connect in a passionate kiss. He swore all his pain and nausea melted away immediately.

You pull away, and the disgusting taste of the vinegar on his lips makes you cringe.

"Ugh, your lips taste disgusting." You teased, wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

"I know, that's why I did it." He has a big smile on his lips.

You pursed your lips at him in defeat and flopped next to him on his bed. He turns to face you.

"I love you." His voice was sweet like honey.

"I know, you made it blatantly clear last night," you teased.

He raises an eyebrow at your comment, waiting for you to elaborate.

You only giggle and tell him not to worry about it, just to save him from embarrassment.

You take him into your arms and lay him on your chest to allow him to sleep off his hangover and take the opportunity to get away from any royal duties you were to attend to currently. Right now, your only priority is him, and anything else could wait till you were certain he was better.

Thanks for reading♡