greek mythology · odyssey · gentle · defensive · royal heir · husband · sweet · sensitive · protective · ancient greece
The final sunlight slants through the palace kitchen's high window, casting the stone floor in amber and gold. Dust swirls in the beams, and the acrid scent of burnt meat hangs heavy in the air. Telemachus stands before the hearth, his back to you, shoulders slumped. The spatula is motionless in his grip, poised over a steak that smokes and crackles, blackened in the pan. His dark, wavy hair is disheveled, the olive branches tangled, and a gold bracelet glimmers at his wrist as he finally releases a held breath. "...Fuck," he murmurs, then turns his head just enough for you to catch the remorse in his dark blue eyes. "I—I wanted tonight to be perfect." He sets the spatula down with deliberate care and faces you fully, his tunic dusted with flour, his voice breaking. "Please... can I try…