Telemachus was absolutely exhausted. His day had ended up being much busier than he had originally planned for.

He woke up bright and early that morning to do some solo training, practicing techniques that Athena had mentioned he still needed to work on, before sitting down for a quick breakfast with his parents. The Ithacan royals weren’t always able to eat all their meals together, often caught up with their personal responsibilities, but they made a point to at least have breakfast together, enjoying a peaceful moment before the day got away from them. Telemachus especially looked forward to mornings now that his father was finally home, always happy for a moment to learn more about the man he had longed to meet for so long.

After that, servants whisked him away to the palace baths. There he quickly washed up before being fitted into one of his nicer tunics, a bright white linen that stopped just above his knees, perfect for the heat of the day, and a light blue cloak draped over his left shoulder.

He met with a few different heads of noble families, to go over things like current crop cycles and trade routes. They were in the beginning of the warm season, the busiest time of year for the island’s residents. People were constantly rushing around, plowing fields, checking their irrigation systems, doing everything they could to prepare for the season.

Although, many were worried about the constant humidity that had become the norm for the last couple weeks. Dry summers were expected and there was growing concern amongst the common people regarding the sudden humidity and how it would impact their crops. So much so that even Ithaca’s nobility began pressing the issue. Telemachus had several meetings discussing the topic, where he took notes to share with his mother and father later so they could determine how to best reassure the people.

He was excited to be taking on more responsibilities, finally starting to feel like he was growing into his role as a prince! Though, he would admit, hearing different men drone on about the same thing over and over was honestly quite draining.

Later on in the day, Telemachus and his parents were joined by a noble family for dinner. They had a daughter around his age and were, not so subtly, hoping Telemachus would be interested in becoming a suitor for the girl. She seemed…nice. Quiet. And was admittedly very pretty. But he just wasn’t interested in settling down just yet. The prince still felt like his life was only just beginning, and didn’t want anything to get in the way of his aspirations.

By the time that was finally over, Telemachus was ready to roll into bed and never get back up. Of course, that’s when Athena chose to make her appearance for the day, dragging Telemachus outside for a sparring session. At least combat training was infinitely more interesting to him than his political duties. Athena even told him he was showing steady improvement, which immediately brightened his mood. Right before she knocked him on his ass for the thousandth time.

And now, after running around all day, he stood alone in his bedroom. Finally.

He sighed, slipping off his sandals and padding over to the chest beside his bed where he stored a few simpler tunics for sleeping. As he rummaged through the bin, he noticed a faint sound coming from somewhere within the room. It was high pitched and somewhat melodic. Like a little jingle bell of sorts.

Gods, one long day and he was already starting to hear things.

Telemachus shook his head slightly, as he unclipped the cloak from his shoulder and began to slip out of his tunic. It was probably just a ringing in his ears as they adjusted to the silence of his room after a busy day.

Except the noise continued, getting louder even, till it felt like it was echoing inside his mind. As it steadily grew in volume, Telemachus recognized it as laughter. Like a high pitched giggle that sounded almost mocking.

At this point the prince was officially freaked out. On another day he may have been determined to investigate the strange occurrence, discover its source, and put a stop to it. But today, all his determination surrounded getting into bed and passing out.

Besides there was nothing in his room, not that he could see anyway. So he finished changing into a loose beige tunic, before padding over to close the curtains of his windows, ignoring the mysterious giggles.

As the curtains shut the noise suddenly stopped. His mind was quiet once again, which was good…although he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the whole situation. Especially now that he had the sudden feeling he wasn’t completely alone anymore…

Telemachus had become quite good at detecting Athena’s presence when she would make her random appearances. The hairs on the back of his neck would stand up and he would suddenly get the feeling he was being watched. No matter where he was, alone or not, he always just knew she was there.

This felt similar but slightly more ominous. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this presence didn’t have the purest intentions.

Besides that, Athena didn’t giggle. Honestly, she didn’t laugh much to begin with. Telemachus had a hard time imagining her making such a weird sound. Plus she would never get in the way of his sleep! She always reminded him that rest was just as important as hard work. ‘Tired minds can’t prosper’ or something like that.

Telemachus closed his eyes, clenching his fists at his sides. This was…fine. He was going to turn around to an empty bed, lay down, and forget this ever happened. Yep yep yep, this was totally normal and he was definitely not about to be murdered by a crazy giggly spirit in his bedroom.

He slowly turned around before opening his eyes to…nothing. He sighed, a small relieved smile crossing his face. Sure, he was clearly going mad, but that was a problem for tomorrow’s Telemachus. Today’s Telemachus had worked hard already and deserved sleep.

“Hello darling.”

“AHH!” Telemachus screamed, jumping away from the sudden voice that appeared behind him. He whipped around to see a man, only slightly taller than himself wearing a similarly cut tunic, only in white with a red trimming along the bottom hem and the top part only covering the left shoulder, leaving his right side exposed. What stood out the most though, was the helmet covering an array of golden curls and his sandals, both of which had a pair of white wings attached, allowing the man…no—god, to float slightly above him.

“Oh my me, darling! You should’ve seen your face!” The god laughed, head thrown back so far that he began floating upside down. “I didn’t think mortals could fly, but you’re certainly jumpy aren’t you.”

Telemachus’ eyes widened in recognition. That laugh. That’s the sound that had been literally driving him crazy a moment ago! He stammered, confused by the god’s sudden appearance, “I- you- Hermes?”

The god in question gently lowered to the floor, actually the same height as Telemachus when on the ground. He hadn’t realized god’s could even be human sized. Athena was so tall, he simply never considered it.

Hermes bowed with a flourish, one arm raised to his chest with the other extended upwards, “Indeed I am.” He smirked up at the boy. Then in the blink of an eye he was behind Telemachus once again, hands gripping his shoulders, leaning into his space, “And you’re Telemachus~”

Telemachus was surprised by the god’s speed, flinching just slightly. Though, in all honesty, he probably should’ve expected it. Hermes was the fabled messenger of the gods after all.

“You know me?” He attempted to look back at the god, but Hermes moved out of his line of sight at each attempt. After a moment of back and forth, he resigned to just face forwards for now.

Hermes giggled at his own antics, his nails digging into Telemachus’ shoulders. They were surprisingly sharp. Like claws even. Yet, somehow they didn’t hurt at all.

“Of course I know you, darling!” Hermes finally drifted to float in front of Telemachus once again, “You’re Athena’s little mentee.” He said, poking the tip of Telemachus’ nose with a quiet “boop.”

Huh. Well, that made sense. He supposed gods probably got together and talked the same way regular people did. It was honestly kind of nice to hear Athena mentioned him at all. There was a bigger question nagging at him though.

“Sooo…why are you here?” He asked, doing his best to sound polite. Telemachus knew how important good hospitality was to the gods, something his mother always reminded him of growing up in a palace full of loud burly suitors.

He wouldn’t risk offending Hermes. If what his father told him about his long journey home was true, accidentally pissing off gods is in his blood.

At the moment, Hermes was flitting about the room, inspecting each and every corner. Telemachus didn’t have too many things in his bedroom, and even less that would interest a god, but he didn’t question the process.

The prince’s question went ignored as Hermes shuffled through a few parchments on the small desk across from his bed, seemingly more interested in his things than in the prince himself.

Telemachus stifled a yawn, staring longingly at his bed. At any other time he would’ve been ecstatic at the idea that a god, other than Athena, chose to personally visit him. But right now, he was just sooo sleepy.

He looked back over to where Hermes had been floating, only to find him directly in front of his face, so close their noses almost touched.

“Wah!” He yelped, stumbling backwards, the backs of his knees bumping against his bed.

Hermes grinned, shiny teeth on full display. It was honestly a little unnerving, especially when he noticed how sharp the god’s canines seemed to be, much sharper than a normal person’s would be.

“Would you like me to leave, darling?” Hermes tilted his head in question, allowing Telemachus to catch a view of the god’s eyes for the first time since his appearance.

They were like little pools of light hidden just beneath the brim of his helmet. Telemachus thought the way they scrunched up into crescents as Hermes smiled made them look a lot like tiny moons.

“No—” He lied, “Of course not! I’m just…confused is all…” He concluded, hoping the god wouldn’t question him any further. And maybe hoping, deep deep down, that Hermes would simply get bored of him and leave, at least for the night.

Hermes stared at him, expressionless. Just long enough to make Telemachus squirm under his gaze, before he smiled again. “Good!” He chirped, “Now, what’s that?”

The god was pointing behind himself at the standing loom set up next to Telemachus’ desk. A roll of cloth was attached to the top beam, the strands in process of being woven into a simple pattern.

In Ithaca, weaving was a practice most often done by women, but as a child Telemachus spent most of his time following his mother anywhere he was allowed. When he watched her slowly craft tapestries and fabrics with her own two hands he was amazed, and asked her to teach him.

Of course, she obliged, and throughout Telemachus’ childhood he and his mother spent many hours together by a loom. He even had several small tapestries that he made himself from over the years tacked onto the walls of his room. Mostly images of monsters and warriors from the stories his mother would tell him before bed.

But the one he was working on now was different. Most people had tapestries depicting the members of their family, and they would update them every few years or so as families naturally changed in size.

Before his father had left for war, his mother made one of the three of them. In it he was just a baby, cradled in his parents arms.

Now that his father had finally returned home, he wanted to make a new tapestry, showing how they looked today. That after all this time they were still a family.

“Oh. I’m making a gift. For my father—Well, for all of us, technically. My parents and I.” He smiled softly, “It’s still a work in progress, obviously.” He had only just started on the row with the tips of their hair, an unfortunate result of his busy schedule lately.

Hermes merely hummed in response, now laying down midair, floating in lazy circles around his head. People often told Telemachus he couldn’t sit still for long, but he was starting to think he wasn’t nearly as bad about it as Hermes seems to be.

“So you crafted all those little designs yourself then?” Hermes asked, gesturing to the various pieces covering his bedroom walls.

Telemachus smiled, managing to push his desire for sleep out of his mind for the moment. It wasn’t often he got to talk about his semi-secret hobby.

“Yea! It’s something I’ve been doing since I was little, actually”

Hermes nodded, thoughtfully, “That’s actually rather impressive, darling.” He complimented, watching the young prince’s face light up at the slight praise.

“Though, I thought weaving was just something women did? I had no idea the prince of Ithaca was so in touch with his femininity~” Hermes teased, shiny eyes glinting down at the boy.

“That- that’s not- I-” Telemachus sputtered, a soft pink flush spreading across his tan cheeks. That was the exact reason this particular interest was kinda, sorta, a secret. He wasn’t really embarrassed about it…well okay maybe he was. But it was hard to talk about knowing that his identity as a man would be questioned.

“A-Athena says that weaving is a respectable craft that helps build focus!” The prince practically shouted, willing the embarrassment to leave his body as he faced the god’s clear amusement at his actions.

Hermes laughed that same jingley giggle, flying faster around Telemachus before grabbing him under his arms and hoisting him up into the air. Telemachus startled, squirming as his feet left the ground.

“Wha— Hermes!” Telemachus squeaked, watching the floor slowly get further away from him. Thankfully the god didn’t take him far, only lifting him about a meter into the air before releasing him onto his bed. He let out a quiet, “oof”, as his head hit the pillows.

Hermes slowly drifted down like a feather, only to plop right on top of Telemachus’ waist, legs straddling either side of him and hands holding the prince down by his shoulders.

“Oh darling,” He giggled softly, tapping his claw-like nails on Telemachus’ soft skin. “I can definitely see why Athena is so fond of you.”

Telemachus screwed up his shoulders at the sensation, the god’s nails being so pointy that it tickled, just slightly, “I-Is that why you’re on top of me?”

Hermes dragged his hands closer to the prince’s neck, clearly fascinated by the boy’s responses to his actions. He watched a wobbly smile grow on Telemachus' face as he alternated between poking the right and left sides of his neck. Even better was the way Telemachus instinctively scrunched up his shoulders to protect the sensitive skin of his neck, stuck squirming back and forth, unable to stop himself from chasing the tingly sensation.

Hermes hummed, once again ignoring a question the prince had asked him. Only this time, the thing distracting the god was Telemachus himself instead of a few random scrolls.

“H-Hermes?” He tried again to gain the god’s attention, not sure how much longer he could stand to be poked and prodded.

“Yes darling?” Hermes, fortunately, responded this time around. Unfortunately, he moved on from poking Telemachus’ neck every few seconds to using all his nails to gently trace circles into the boy’s skin.

Telemachus was really having trouble focusing now, having to bite his lip to prevent himself from letting out any potentially embarrassing noises. His shoulders were hiked up to his ears and his face was a perpetual shade of pink that threatened to spread down to his neck if Hermes kept this up.

“Y-you- Whahat are you dohoing?” He squeaked out, unable to avoid the soft giggles that punctuated every other word.

“Well I don’t know, little prince. You tell me,” Hermes grinned down at him, very much enjoying the young prince’s flustered state. “Are you ticklish?~”

Telemachus gasped softly at the question. He had never quite understood why but the mention of tickling or being tickled always seemed to make him feel really…flustered, in a way other people didn’t seem to understand. Even as a boy, when his mother would poke at his tummy or wiggle her fingers behind his ears he would get so shy, running to hide in the nearest corner where no one could see him.

The prince could only shake his head, knowing that opening his mouth would allow more quiet laughter to flow out of him.

Hermes tsked at him, shaking his head as if disappointed, “You know you should never lie to a god, darling.” He sighed, one hand moving to poke at the boy’s side, “You mortals are incredibly bad at it.”

Telemachus closed his eyes then, the sight of Hermes’ ever teasing grin too much for his sleepy brain to handle. Using his now free arm he attempted to cover the expanse of his side. Of course when he did so, Hermes simply moved to poking his belly instead, resulting in yet another back and forth between the two as the god would simply move to whatever area Telemachus failed to protect.

A quiet whine sounded in the back of his throat, his small wobbly smile slowly widening into a full on grin.

“Hehermeees! Stop ihit! Plehehease!” He pleaded, squirming under the god in a feeble attempt to throw him off.

“Hm? Stop what exactly, darling? You have to be more specific.” Hermes finally decided to leave the boy’s poor neck alone. Only to then shove both his hands under the gaps in Telemachus’ tunic, gently scratching along his sides and belly as he did so. The sensation of ten pointy claws dragging across his skin was the prince’s breaking point, an endless flood of boyish giggles set free within the small room. “Come now, use your words~”

Telemachus was sure he looked a bit like a tomato right now, his cheeks growing warmer as the god continued to tease him. He didn’t even understand why this was happening right now! Was barging into people’s homes, inspecting their things, and then tickling them just something Hermes liked to do?!

Prying his eyes open to glance up at Hermes showed the god staring at his hands as they danced upon skin, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in an expression of the utmost focus. As if tickling a prince was some important task on his to-do list. He noticed Telemachus watching and smiled before shoving his hands further up to vibrate against the spaces between the prince’s ribs.

Telemachus squealed, his hands thrusting out to grab ahold of Hermes’. Hermes cooed at the noise, enjoying the way the prince’s blush darkened in response.

“YOU KNOHOHOW WHAHAHAT!”

Hermes hummed, pretending to think for a moment. “No, can't say I do. There’s a million things you could want me to stop right now. Should I get off you? Leave your room? Oh! Would you want me to stop talking? It wouldn’t be the first time someone told me I—”

“STOHOHOP TIHICKLING MEHEHE!” Telemachus practically screamed, trying, and failing, to pry the god’s hands away from his ribs.

Hermes blinked at him, seemingly confused by the request, “But Telemachus, darling,” He slowed his hands to simply walk his fingers up and down the boy’s ribs, granting him the small mercy of being able to speak, “How could I possibly be tickling someone who isn’t ticklish?”

Telemachus remembered his father telling him about his encounters with Hermes. He had said that the god helped him out in two separate instances while he made his journey home. That he was incredibly playful in a way that made him feel lighter in otherwise perilous environments.

Well Telemachus would say Hermes was more than just playful, he was a downright menace. He fully understood now why people called him a trickster god.

“That is what you said isn’t it?” Hermes continued, bored of waiting for a response from the prince, “Maybe I misheard you somehow? Hm?”

Telemachus groaned, “Ihihi dihihin’t say ahanythihing!” Which was technically true. He only hoped the god wouldn’t call him out for lying again.

Hermes tilted his head, either not noticing or simply choosing not to mention his little work around. “Well then, little prince, answer the question,” He leaned closer, close enough that Telemachus was sure the god could feel the heat radiating from his bright red blush, a thought that in turn only made him blush harder. “Are. You. Ticklish?” He questioned, tasering the boy’s sides at each word.

Frantic giggles emanated from the boy, more so from Hermes’ words than his actual hand movements now. He wasn’t usually so easily flustered, or at least he really hoped he wasn’t, but somehow the god had found the one thing that could always turn his mind to mush.

“B-buhut I- Ihihi- Ah!” A gasp left him as Hermes shoved his hands under his arms. Telemachus immediately clamped his arms down at his sides, but it did nothing to stop those sharp nails from tracing gentle swirls in the spaces beneath his arms.

Hermes shook his head disapprovingly, “No buts, darling. How about this, if you answer honestly…I’ll stop, whatever it is.”

And just like that, it was so easy. Such a simple way to end this whole thing. Telemachus could say goodbye to the trickster god, go to sleep, and try to forget about this weird night. But…

Telemachus whined, twisting side to side as if that would somehow allow him to evade the hands he had literally trapped under his arms. He simply couldn’t help it! Despite the truth being painfully obvious, the thought of saying the words out loud was just so embarrassing.

“Hehermes pleheh-AH! PLEASE!!” Telemachus screamed as Hermes suddenly dug into his hollows, scratching at the sensitive skin.

“I already told you how this ends, darling.” Hermes laughed, amused by the silly prince’s reactions to every little thing, “I can’t do much more for you. What’s that thing you mortals like to say? Gods can only help those who help themselves? Hm?”

Telemachus was fully belly laughing now. His back arched away from the mattress and legs kicking out behind where Hermes perched atop him. And yet, the god continued scritching away, lighting the boy’s nerves on fire with every twitch of his fingers.

“I really don’t see what’s so funny, darling. I mean all I’ve done is ask you a simple question.” Hermes shook his head, sighing, “Alas, it appears I’ll have to let Athena know her little mentee has gone insane.”

At the mention of his mentor Telemachus shook his head wildly, blush spreading to the tips of his ears.

She could not know about this. He would actually die if she found out. How was he supposed to look her in the eye during their training knowing that she knew a few pokes in the right places turned him into a blushing giggling mess.

“HEHERMEHES!”

“Telemachus~” Hermes sing-songed.

“IHIHI CAHAN’T!!” Telemachus whined, peering up at him through squinted eyes, hoping the trickster would take pity on him.

Hermes hummed, pretending to think. “Well. Maybe there is something I can do to help.”

Telemachus closed his eyes once again, not wanting to see what the god had in mind. He could only hope that Hermes’ definition of ‘help’ didn’t actually mean ‘make everything worse’.

…Oh

worse

Worse

WORSE—

Hermes had leaned down to bury his face in the crook of Telemachus’ neck and began nibbling at his skin with those sharp teeth he had witnessed earlier. All the while still, he continued clawing at the prince’s underarms.

On top of that, Hermes’ feathers and fluffy hair brushed against the underside of his chin and face. Leaving behind a tingly sensation that, on its own, wouldn’t really be that bothersome, but in combination with everything else? Was absolutely maddening.

Telemachus writhed beneath the god, hips bucking up suddenly, as if that would cause the immovable force that was Hermes to topple off him. Despite logically knowing there was only one way out of this, his over the top reactions continued, much to Hermes’ obvious delight.

Although…

“NAHAHAHAHAH!” Telemachus’ mind was a foggy haze. His already sleepy brain melted down into soup with the continuous tickling. He honestly couldn't very well remember what Hermes wanted him to do at this point.

Hermes, refusing to be silent for any extended period of time ever, began making little “Om nom nom” sounds as he scraped his teeth against the young prince’s neck. Biting him gently every few seconds before continuing.

Telemachus was even more embarrassed by the ridiculous sounds, a small snort escaping him as he shook his head.

Hermes immediately shot up at the noise, gazing down at the boy with literal sparkles in his shiny eyes.

“Oh. My. Me, darling! What was that?!” Hermes genuinely laughed, not expecting a prince to make such a sound. “Turning people into pigs isn’t exactly my area of expertise, you know.”

And with that, Hermes had officially murdered Telemachus. Now his gravestone would probably read something ridiculous like ‘Here lies Ithaca’s most ticklish prince. Who quite literally combusted after a flustering encounter with our Lord Hermes.’

The boy’s whole face, neck, and ears had turned bright red. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, even as he continued to squirm. He hardly felt like a person at the moment. More like a puddle. A sweaty, blushing, incredibly ticklish puddle. The only thing he could feel other than Hermes continuing to torment him was the slight ache in his cheeks from smiling for so long.

Hermes sighed wistfully, “You know, I always forget how sensitive you mortals are,” He watched the young prince beneath him squirm every which way, desperate for an escape that he simply would not achieve.

“You’re all so squishy,” He suddenly vibrated his digits where they lay beneath the prince’s arms for emphasis, laughing along as the boy threw his head back against his pillow with a pitchy squeal. “Maybe I should visit you more often, little prince.”

Telemachus’ eyes snapped open, face to face with a smirking Hermes. The trickster giggled in that high-pitched chittering way that he often did.

“What? You don’t like the sound of that?” The god pouted as Telemachus frantically shook his head.

“Well that’s not very nice, darling.” He sighed, looking despondent for just a moment before a mischievous grin quickly returned to his face. “I suppose I’ll just have to come back and punish you for hurting my feelings instead.”

“N-NO! NOHOHOHOHO!! YOU CAHAHAN’T!!” Telemachus cried out, unable to handle the possibility of this becoming a reoccurring activity. He would never get anything done if he thought Hermes could appear at any moment and tickle him to pieces.

Hermes simply ignored his pleas returning to his spot pressed against the prince’s neck, likely in an attempt to get Telemachus to repeat the noise he had found oh so hilarious.

Telemachus forced what little brain power he had left to think. But it was so hard to focus! Everytime a thought crossed his mind Hermes would wiggle his fingers just a little harder, or his hair feathers would brush against Telemachus’ ears, and the thought would be chased away. It honestly felt like wading through sticky mush, searching for something he wasn’t quite sure still existed. But there had been something. Something he was supposed to say—

He jolted suddenly, a gasp interrupting the otherwise steady stream of laughter. Something wet had pressed against the base of his neck, close to his collar bones. Something wet…and kind of warm and—

Oh…

No!

Hermes just licked him!

“OKAHAHAY!!” He shouted, the sudden assault seemingly jogging his fried memory, “IHIHI’M TIHIHICKLIHISH! IHIHIT TICKLES!! NAHAHAHA MOHORE!”

Hermes quickly vibrated his fingers in place under his arms one last time before stopping, and sitting back up.

Telemachus laid there, twitching as if he was still being tickled. His laughter slowly died down into pitchy giggles that didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon.

Looking down at Telemachus’ frazzled state, the god couldn’t help but smile. A real, fond smile, rather than his usual impish grin. He genuinely found the boy to be quite adorable. Especially laying there as he was, face flushed and breathless with a little smile.

“Darling,” Hermes tilted his head, “There’s really no need to state the obvious. I do have eyes.”

Telemachus groaned, residual giggles still tumbling past his lips as the ticklish shocks still lingered.

“Y-You…you’re s-so—”

“Careful now, darling,” Hermes’ eyes flashed in warning, “I am still a god you know.”

Telemachus remained quiet at the reminder. Although, part of him got the feeling that Hermes wouldn’t really do anything to hurt him. Still, he wasn’t willing to test that theory.

He took a few deep breaths, allowing himself to calm down and finally stop laughing, “Do you think you could get off me now?” The prince asked, squirming slightly underneath the god who for some reason still hadn’t moved.

“Of course!” Hermes said, unmoving. “But first-” Telemachus groaned loudly, annoyed at the prospect of having to do literally anything else.

Hermes merely giggled at him, “Calm down, darling. This shouldn’t be hard.” He reassured, “I just need you to raise your arms up for me.”

Telemachus blinked up at him slowly. Maybe the lack of sleep had officially made him delirious because he swore the request made no sense.

Seemingly sensing the boy’s confusion, Hermes deigned to explain himself, “See, my hands are a bit stuck at the moment.” He gave the slightest wiggle of his fingers that still had the prince gasping as if he had been stabbed.

Telemachus glared up at the god defiantly. He knew for a fact that was untrue. Hermes was way stronger than him! Gods were always stronger than humans, that being a large part of why they were so revered—and feared.

Hermes was still messing with him. And clearly enjoying doing so, based on the way he was seemingly unable to stop giggling.

“We both know that’s not tru-AH! HERMES!!” Telemachus shrieked, feeling the god dig his nails into his skin once again.

“You calling me a liar, darling?” Hermes leaned down, grinning wickedly at the boy, “You might wanna listen to me before I change my mind about stopping. Hm?”

Hermes was close enough to him that Telemachus could feel the breath fanning his face as he spoke. And somehow, that tickled too, his already overstimulated senses easily set off by any little thing.

The prince’s giggling sounded desperate as he shook his head, knowing very well he couldn’t take much more of this. He forced himself to think about his end goal, what he had been working towards all day. Finally falling asleep in his cozy bed.

Telemachus bit his lip, steeling his nerves, before slowly lifting his arms upwards, hovering just high enough for Hermes to remove his evil hands.

Hermes slowly raked his nails down the boy’s skin, smiling at the way Telemachus’ arms trembled in place, hiccupy giggles bubbling out of him.

As soon as the hands were gone Telemachus clamped his arms down once again, wrapping himself in a tight hug, as if that would protect him from the phantom tickles that still lingered.

“Y-You’re *hic* me-mean.”

Of course, Hermes simply laughed. Because laughing at Telemachus’ mild displeasure seemed to be his new favorite pastime.

“I’m mean?” Hermes gaped, hand dramatically pressed to his chest. As if the idea that the boy he just several minutes tormenting could think such a thing was entirely ridiculous.

“Honestly, darling! I really could have been a lot worse. I wouldn’t have even stopped if you didn’t look like you were about to pass out!” Hermes pointed at him, as if it was his fault their little ‘game’ had ended.

Though, he certainly wasn’t wrong. Telemachus thought his bones felt a bit like pudding. Even with Hermes still sitting on top of his waist he could probably fall asleep right now.

Hermes stared down at the Ithacan prince for a moment, watching his eyes flutter shut and his breathing slowly even out.

This was the son Odysseus had fought so hard to get back to. His own great great grandson.

Gods having children with mortals was nothing new or even unexpected. His own father had slept with who knows how many different people, providing him with an absolutely ridiculous number of siblings. Most of which their supposed father, literal king of the gods, couldn’t give a single crap about. He was well within his right to ignore Ithaca’s existence entirely.

But…Hermes couldn’t help but feel the slightest tinge of affection towards these silly little mortals. Even if he chose to show it in unconventional ways.

The messenger god smiled down at the boy sleeping below him and quietly disappeared.

˚₊‧꒰ა ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Telemachus was only half asleep when he noticed the weight suddenly disappear from his hips. He blearily opened his eyes to see Hermes had left.

Huh. He honestly didn’t expect him to leave so silently. No fancy flourish to his exit—

“Still awake, Darling?”

Once again, the god’s sudden appearance startled the prince. Telemachus looked over to his left to see Hermes sitting cross-legged beside him. For some reason he was holding one of the chalices they usually kept in the dining areas.

“You’re still here.” Telemachus mumbled, rolling onto his side, now facing the god’s knee.

Hermes smiled softly, “For now, yes.” He gently wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, “Sit up for me, alright.”

Telemachus whined quietly as he felt Hermes slowly dragging him into a sitting position. He was about to protest before he felt something cool press against his lips. Blinking his eyes open he saw the chalice Hermes was holding, filled with water.

Oh.

Well that was rather unexpected. But also...nice.

Telemachus took the cup into his hands, taking slow sips of the water until it was empty. He hadn’t even realized he was thirsty till now. Maybe Hermes did spend his time flying around tickling people, since he seemingly knew what they needed afterwards.

Hermes took the cup from him and he immediately crashed back into his pillows, getting comfy once more. It seemed the god planned on sticking around till he fell asleep. Something he didn’t mind the sound of, surprisingly.

Telemachus tensed slightly as he felt Hermes reach out to brush a hand through his hair. He quickly melted into the touch, the feeling of gentle fingers scratching at his scalp almost instantly relaxing him enough to fall asleep.

But first…

“Hermes..” the prince mumbled sleepily, just barely awake.

“Yes darling?”

“Promise me you won’t tell Athena ‘bout this?” Telemachus whispered, voice so soft Hermes might not have heard him if he wasn’t right next to the boy.

Hermes laughed quietly at the request. Of course Telemachus still managed to worry about his mentor when practically asleep.

“Don’t worry, darling. I promise.”

Telemachus’ only response was the tiny puffs of breath escaping his open mouth. The prince was finally asleep.

Hermes sat and watched over the sleeping prince for a brief moment, feeling so deeply and utterly fond.

Floating up and off the bed, Hermes quietly drifted over to the thin linen sheet tucked at the edge of the bed. He gently draped it over the boy, hesitating briefly, before leaning over and pressing the tiniest kiss to his forehead.

Stupid, stupid boy. Getting in a fight with Antinous. Eurymachus dragged Telemachus away from the fight. He had a bloodied nose and a busted lip, getting his blood all over his face.

Antinous was lucky Eurymachus considered him necessary to his plan. Otherwise, he wouldn't have dragged Telemachus away when he did. Antinous would've broken his bones. Every single one. Perhaps even killed the boy. Antinous is lucky. Good thing Telemachus didn't have the strength to fight off Eurymachus. It would've ended badly for him. And if Antinous would've killed the prince, Queen Penelope would have another excuse to weave another funeral shroud, and it'd be another ten years before she would choose a suitor.

"Hey! Let go of me!"

The suitor didn't respond.

Eurymachus forced him to kneel by a bucket of water. He grabbed the boy by the nape of his neck, forcing his head to lean over the bucket.

"Ack- stop!"

The suitor, again, didn't respond. He dipped his hand in the cool liquid, his hand like a cup to bring it to his face. Letting it run down his lips.

Eurymachus brought more water to his face. Even more. He wiped his face with his thumb.

What a stupid boy. Getting hit, when he knows good and well Antinous is bigger and stronger than him. Why would he start a fight he knew he couldn't win? Stupid boy.

"Let go of me!"

The suitor didn't respond.

"Why won't you listen?!" Telemachus smacked away his hand.

"I'm trying to help you, stupid boy." Eurymachus cupped his hand, bringing more water to wash off his face. "Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon, that attitude may be your doom."

"I-" But Eurymachus doesn't let him defend himself. He let go of the back of his neck, instead grabbing his chin and forcing the boy to face him.

"Why do you always say what you believe? You're giving free ammunition to your enemies." Telemachus shoved his hand away and tried to scoot back. Eurymachus reached his hand out to grab him, accidentally brushing on the side of his ribs. Telemachus gasped and curled up.

Eurymachus was worried. Had Antinous broken a rib, too? Stupid, stupid man. Now Penelope would never marry him. Not if she finds out he hurt her son. A broken rib was hard to hide.

The suitor approaches Telemachus, lifting his shirt to look at his rib.

"Hey-!" Telemachus shoved his shirt back down. Eurymachus was getting tired of his fighting, grabbing his wrists and forcing them out of the way, keeping them pinned just above his head. He pulled the boy's shirt up to check around his ribs.

It wasn't bruised, cut, indented, swollen. Just pale skin. Weird. Eurymachus brushed his free hand over it.

"Does this hurt?"

"No! Get off!" Telemachus said, trying to jerk his arms down.

"Don't lie to me, boy. Why are you reacting like this if you aren't hurt?"

"It just tickles." Eurymachus was a bit confused. How easily he said that, just giving away a weakness. Had Telemachus learned nothing from the suitors who constantly bully and harass him?

"Stupid boy. Giving away a weakness." The suitor was curious now. A sick and twisted sort of curiosity that would get him beheaded if King Odysseus ever found out. So he brushes Telemachus' rib again, this time with purpose. Watching the involuntary flinch, listening to the breath that gets caught in his throat.

"Don't." Telemachus tried to pull his arms down again. But it was useless. Eurymachus was strong. Probably not as strong as Antinous, but strong enough. He needed to escape. So Telemachus turned to the side Eurymachus sat on, and kicked his back with his knees.

The suitor scowled and removed his hands to now hold the prince's knees down. He squeezed experimentally just above the bone. The boy gave involuntary kicks. Not as bad as what Eurymachus would do, he thought distantly. His knees were really ticklish for some reason.

He snapped out of his thoughts, why would he think about being tickled himself? The strangeness of his mind. He moved up to tickle Telemachus' sides now.

"Stohohop! Eurymachus, stahahap!"

He hesitated. What would happen to him if he didn't listen to royalty? That would surely be a traitorous crime. He would never take the crown if he committed treason. So he did stop, staring at the boy.

Telemachus was grateful for the relief, and took a few greedy breaths. He covered his tummy now with his arms.

"You're evil."

"None of this would've happened if you didn't get into a fight with someone much stronger than you. Do you even have any training, boy?"

"Well- some."

"Some is not enough. He is larger than you, he is proud, he is violent. Choose your enemies wisely, boy. Pick a fight with someone you can win against."

"He's your enemy too. He's a suitor, too."

"Sure. But I do not wander around throwing punches at people larger than me." Telemachus scoffs.

Stupid, young boy. Too naive to understand what he's put himself up against.

"You'd do well to listen to me, boy."

"I would rather not listen to the likes of you."

"I wonder how Antinous might react to finding out you're ticklish." Eurymachus was calm, casual. But the subtle threat scared Telemachus.

"No, don't tell."

"Then I suggest you stop fighting people who are bigger and stronger than you." Telemachus hesitates. But the man had a point, he supposed.

"Fine."

Eurymachus left the room. He'd keep his plans close to his chest. Helping Telemachus like this was just to convince Queen Penelope to marry him. Telemachus would surely tell his mother of the suitor's misdeeds. But should she ask what Eurymachus has done - well, nothing horrible. Helped him wash his face, checked for injuries. Tickled him a little, stopped when asked. And gave him good advice.