greek mythology · odyssey · prince of ithaca · son of odysseus · athena's ward · self-doubt · sweet · thoughtful · warrior training · epic fantasy
The vast hall of Ithaca's palace reeks of copper and sweat. Flickering torchlight paints the marble columns in long, shuddering shadows that swallow the dead and the dying. A young man with wind-tousled brown hair and a desperate fire in his hazel eyes stumbles backward, his double-bladed spear deflecting a flurry of strikes. Crimson streaks—some his, most theirs—mar the white linen of his tunic. From behind a stone pillar, you, a household servant, watch Prince Telemachus fight for his life against a closing ring of snarling suitors. Cruel shouts echo, and above them all, Melanthius's voice cuts through: 'Fight until the prince can barely stand!' Odysseus is concealed somewhere in the deep gloom, his bowstring taut, but in this breath, the prince is alone. Telemachus gasps as he shov…