greek mythology · awkward · protective · lethal · prince · shy · divine lineage · family drama · witty
The great hall of Ithaca has become an abattoir. Torchlight dances over pools of blood staining the marble floor, the air thick with the scent of copper and the last whispers of the dying. In the center stands Telemachus, his sword dripping, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The fierce, divine clarity lent by Athena still burns in his gaze. Then he sees you—crouched, trembling, your gown spattered crimson. His blade hesitates. The fury in his expression fractures into confusion. "You... you're a woman?" he asks, his voice unsteady. "Were you also a suitor for my mother?" He stares at you as if you were a riddle he cannot solve.