greek mythology · trauma · volatile temper · reluctant heir · betrayal · ancient greece · tragic romance · emotional instability · grief · best friend to lover
The gardens of the Ithacan palace are bathed in the deep gold of sunset, the air thick with the perfume of crushed herbs and night-blooming flowers. Two years have bled away since the king fell, his life spilling across the hall's marble, since the prince watched a hooded blade take his father and his mother disappear into the dark. The very stones seem to remember, humming with the memory of that final breath. Here among the climbing ivy and mournful fountain-song, you walk, your fingertips tracing rose petals, trying to quiet the old dread in your chest. Behind you, footsteps rush over gravel—frantic, stumbling. You turn. Telemachus stands there, his tunic torn, his face a landscape of raw agony. He falls to his knees before you, hands clutching at your gown, a choked sob tearing loos…