୨୧┇This series is basically like what if Antinous had a younger sister that likes to bully Telemachus but plot twist they fall in love and Antinous crashes out.
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╰─ ♡ Main series:
୨୧┇Chapter one
୨୧┇chapter two
୨୧┇Chapter three
୨୧┇Chapter four
୨୧┇Chapter five
୨୧┇Chapter six
୨୧┇Chapter seven
୨୧┇Chapter eight
୨୧┇Chapter nine
୨୧┇Chapter ten
୨୧┇Chapter eleven
୨୧┇Chapter twelve
୨୧┇Chapter thirteen
୨୧┇Chapter fourteen
୨୧┇Chapter fifteen
୨୧┇Chapter sixteen
୨୧┇Chapter seventeen
୨୧┇Chapter eighteen
୨୧┇Chapter nineteen
୨୧┇Chapter twenty
୨୧┇Chapter twenty one
୨୧┇Chapter twenty two
୨୧┇Chapter twenty three
୨୧┇Chapter twenty four
୨୧┇Chapter twenty five
୨୧┇Chapter twenty six
୨୧┇Chapter twenty seven
୨୧┇Chapter twenty eight
୨୧┇Chapter twenty nine
୨୧┇Chapter thirty
୨୧┇Chapter thirty one FINAL!!
﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍
╰─ ♡ Antinous and Y/N sibling stuff:
Talking about their relationship/past
Scenarios from when they were younger
More scenarios from when they’re younger but antinous is shittier
Reader is injured
Antinous being a shitty brother (and character designs)
୨୧┇warnings: Telemachus is VERY freaky in this chapter, no direct nsfw but like there’s a lot of suggestive comments.
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Telemachus leaned over the edge of the ship, gazing out at the endless horizon with a wistful sigh. The salty breeze tousled his hair, but it couldn’t distract him from the ache in his chest. “I just can’t stop thinking about her,” he said, his voice drenched in longing.
Acrisios, who was adjusting the sails nearby, rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “You’ve been thinking about her since we left Ithaca. Gods above, Telemachus, give it a rest.”
Telemachus turned to his friend, clutching the railing dramatically. “But you don’t understand, Acrisios! She’s… she’s everything. Her smile, her wit, the way she gets all flustered when she’s trying to argue with me—it’s like I can still hear her voice in the wind.”
Acrisios groaned and ran a hand down his face. “No, Telemachus. That’s just the wind. Or maybe the sound of the crew wishing you’d stop talking. Or if we’re lucky enough it’s the sound of Poseidon approaching and killing us all so we don’t have to hear this.”
Telemachus ignored the jab, pressing his hand to his chest as if it might ease the ache. “Do you think she misses me? Or do you think she’s furious that I left without telling her sooner? Oh, gods, what if she’s already forgotten about me?”
Acrisios threw down the rope he was tying, finally fed up. “Telemachus, she hasn’t forgotten about you. How could she, with how obsessed you are? I bet she’s just trying to enjoy some peace and quiet now that you’re not there to constantly harass her.”
Telemachus frowned. “That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t meant to be,” Acrisios shot back, crossing his arms. “Look, I get it. She’s amazing, she’s perfect, you’re in love, blah blah blah. But if you don’t stop yapping about her, I swear I’ll jump overboard and swim to Pylos myself to get away from you.”
Telemachus narrowed his eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have anyone waiting for you back home.”
Acrisios barked a laugh. “Jealous? No, I’m grateful. I don’t have to pine like some lovesick poet while there’s actual work to be done.”
Telemachus sighed again, turning back to the sea. “You’ll never understand what we have. She’s my other half, my reason to keep going.”
Acrisios shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I’m about to make her my reason to push you overboard.”
“What was that?” Telemachus asked, not looking back.
“Nothing,” Acrisios replied with a smirk, grabbing the rope again. “Now get your lovesick self together before the crew throws you over for real.”
Telemachus grumbled but stayed quiet, though he couldn’t help but trace the outline of Y/N’s face in the clouds above. Telemachus paced the deck, gesturing wildly as he rambled. “And then there’s the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s annoyed, like she’s trying so hard not to smile, but you can tell she wants to. It’s adorable, Acrisios. Adorable! Don’t you think so?”
Acrisios sat on a barrel, his head in his hands. “I don’t even remember what she looks like, Telemachus. I couldn’t tell you if she’s adorable or a Gorgon in disguise. And at this point, I don’t care!”
“But her hair—” Telemachus began, his voice dreamy.
“Enough!” Acrisios shot to his feet, his patience finally snapping. “I swear by the gods, Telemachus, if you say one more word about Pandora, I’m throwing you overboard myself!”
Before Telemachus could respond, Acrisios grabbed him by the shoulders and began dragging him toward the edge of the ship. “You’re going to learn to shut up, one way or another!”
“Wait, wait, wait! Acrisios, this isn’t funny!” Telemachus yelped, flailing as Acrisios pushed him closer to the railing.
“Neither is listening to you talk about her every single second of this cursed voyage!” Acrisios barked, giving Telemachus a little shove that made him teeter precariously over the edge.
A group of crew members rushed over, alarmed by the commotion. One of them, a burly sailor named Dorios, grabbed Acrisios by the arm. “Hey! Calm down, Acrisios! You can’t just toss Odysseus’s son into the sea!”
“He’s not acting like Odysseus’s son—he’s acting like a lovesick fool!” Acrisios retorted, though he let Dorios pull him back a step.
Another sailor, Andros, held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright, everyone breathe. Telemachus, maybe tone it down with the gushing. Acrisios, put him down before you get yourself thrown overboard.”
Telemachus, still dangling half over the railing, scowled. “I wasn’t gushing!”
“Yes, you were!” the entire crew shouted in unison.
Dorios hauled Telemachus back onto the deck, shaking his head. “Gods save us, this is going to be a long voyage.”
Acrisios pointed a finger at Telemachus, his face red with frustration. “One more word about her, Telemachus. Just one. I dare you.”
Telemachus straightened his tunic, glaring at Acrisios. But after a moment of silence, he mumbled, “Her eyes really are perfect, though…”
Acrisios lunged, but Dorios and Andros grabbed him just in time, dragging him away as he shouted threats.
Telemachus sighed, brushing himself off. “You’d think they’d understand. True love is a gift, not a curse.” The crew groaned in unison, and Acrisios’s muffled yelling could still be heard from the other side of the ship.
——
The gentle sway of the ship rocked the cabin as Telemachus and Acrisios shared a small bunk, the tight quarters forcing them to sleep back-to-back. Acrisios was already irritated at having to share a bed with Telemachus, but exhaustion from the day’s work had him drifting off regardless. That is, until Telemachus stirred in his sleep and mumbled, “Y/N…”
Acrisios’s eye twitched, but he ignored it. Moments later, Telemachus turned over, flinging an arm around Acrisios and muttering again, “Y/N… my sweet…”
Acrisios groaned, his patience hanging by a thread. “This cannot be happening.”
But Telemachus snuggled closer, his grip tightening as he whispered, “Y/N… your hair… your eyes…” That was it. Acrisios sat up abruptly, shoving Telemachus off him and onto the floor with a loud thud.
“Get off me, you lovesick idiot!” Acrisios snapped, glaring down at Telemachus, who was groaning on the floor and rubbing his head.
“What was that for?” Telemachus protested, sitting up.
“For this!” Acrisios gestured wildly. “Even in your sleep, you’re obsessed with her! Do you know how disturbing it is to wake up to you clinging to me like I’m your precious Y/!?”
Telemachus blinked, his face turning red. “I-I wasn’t clinging to you!”
“Oh, yes, you were,” Acrisios shot back, crossing his arms. “Muttering her name like I’m some stand in for your little lovebird.”
Telemachus scrambled to his feet, his embarrassment quickly turning to indignation. “It’s not my fault! I can’t control what I do in my sleep!”
“Well, control yourself now!” Acrisios snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “Find another bunk, or I’m throwing you overboard—again!”
“There’s nowhere else to sleep, Acrisios!” Telemachus retorted, throwing up his hands. “And if you’d just let me dream about Y/N in peace—”
“In peace?!” Acrisios interrupted, his voice rising. “You were practically whispering sweet nothings into my ear!”
Telemachus huffed. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re being unbearable!” Acrisios growled, throwing himself back onto the bunk and turning his back to Telemachus. “One more peep about Y/N—even in your dreams—and I swear I’m sleeping on the deck next time.”
“Fine,” Telemachus muttered, climbing back into the bunk. But after a moment of silence, he mumbled under his breath, “She really does have the softest hands, though…”
Acrisios groaned, grabbing his pillow and smashing it over his head to block out the sound. “I can’t take this anymore.”
——
The morning sun painted the ship’s deck in gold as the crew bustled about their duties. Acrisios leaned lazily against the mast, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as Telemachus passed by.
“So, Telemachus,” Acrisios began, loud enough for the other crew members to hear, “I’ve been thinking. Y/N might be better off with a real man, you know? Someone who isn’t always whining about her like a lost puppy.”
Telemachus stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “What did you just say?”
“Oh, come on,” Acrisios said with a shrug, his tone dripping with mockery. “I’m just saying, she’d probably appreciate someone with a bit more… experience. Someone who can handle himself without tripping over his own feet every time she bats her eyes.”
A few of the crew chuckled, but Telemachus didn’t join in. Instead, his jaw clenched, and his fists balled at his sides. “Acrisios, you’re walking on thin ice.”
Ignoring the warning, Acrisios pressed on, clearly enjoying himself. “I bet if I showed up with flowers and actual charm, she’d forget all about you in a heartbeat. She deserves a man who can sweep her off her feet, not some boy who spends half the time whining about how much he misses her.” The other crew members exchanged wary glances as Telemachus’s face darkened.
“Shut your mouth,” Telemachus said, his voice low but filled with warning.
Acrisios smirked, leaning closer. “Or what? Are you going to cry? Maybe I’ll send her a message when we get to Sparta—let her know she has better options.”
That was the final straw. Telemachus surged forward, grabbing Acrisios by the collar and shoving him back against the mast. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that again,” he snarled, his face inches from Acrisios’s.
Acrisios’s smirk faltered as he saw the fury in Telemachus’s eyes. “Whoa, whoa, it was a joke!” he said, holding up his hands defensively.
“It wasn’t funny,” Telemachus snapped, his grip tightening. “You can tease me all you want, but leave Y/N out of it. Understand?”
“Alright, alright!” Acrisios said quickly, trying to pry Telemachus’s hands off his collar. “Relax, lover boy!” Telemachus released him with a shove, glaring as Acrisios straightened his tunic and muttered under his breath.
The rest of the crew stayed silent, pretending to focus on their tasks as Telemachus stormed off. Acrisios watched him go, rubbing his neck. “Man, he really is whipped,” he muttered, earning a few nervous chuckles from the crew. “He must get that pussy on a daily for him to be this desperate.”
But none of them dared say it loud enough for Telemachus to hear.
——
The sea breeze was calm that afternoon, but the deck of the ship was anything but. Telemachus leaned on a barrel, staring wistfully at the horizon while Acrisios attempted—unsuccessfully—to ignore him, fiddling with a loose rope knot.
“And then, right before I sailed, she hugged me,” Telemachus sighed for the hundredth time. “I can still feel it. It wasn’t just a hug, Acrisios. It was the hug. Like a promise, you know? A silent promise.”
Acrisios groaned, pulling tighter on the knot. “If I hear the word ‘Y/N’ one more time, I’m going to jump overboard.”
“But you get it, right?” Telemachus turned to him, his eyes shining. “The way she looks at me, the way her voice sounds when she says my name—”
“Telemachus,” Acrisios cut him off sharply, glaring. “I will physically throw you overboard myself and make sure no one will hear you this time.”
“Wow, someone’s cranky,” Telemachus teased, smirking. “Maybe you just need a girl of your own to obsess over.”
“I don’t obsess,” Acrisios muttered, turning his back to Telemachus.
“You totally do,” Telemachus shot back. “I bet there’s someone waiting for you back in Ithaca, huh? Some girl who’s just dying to see you again?”
“Nope,” Acrisios said quickly, too quickly.
Telemachus’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You hesitated. You hesitated! Acrisios, you do have someone!”
“I don’t,” Acrisios said firmly, his face starting to turn red.
“You so do!” Telemachus practically leaped to his feet, pointing at him accusingly. “Tell me! Who is she? Is it someone from the palace? Someone from town? Is she—”
“It’s no one,” Acrisios snapped, pulling the knot so tight the rope frayed.
“Come on, Acrisios,” Telemachus pressed, his grin widening. “You can’t hide it from me. I’m great with secrets! Is she—”
“It’s Lethea, alright!?” Acrisios blurted, then immediately froze, realizing what he’d just said.
“Shut up,” Acrisios muttered, his face now beet red.
“But she’s gorgeous!” Telemachus exclaimed, his hands flailing dramatically. “And sweet! And—oh my gods, does she know?!”
“No, and she’s not going to,” Acrisios grumbled, glaring at Telemachus.
“But you have to tell her!” Telemachus insisted, bouncing on his heels. “She’s amazing! And you’re—you’re….Acrisios…I guess? She’d totally fall for you anyway.”
“I said shut up,” Acrisios growled, his glare darkening.
Telemachus, of course, ignored him entirely, already lost in his matchmaking fantasies. “You could totally win her over. You just need a plan. Oh, I could help you write a love letter! Or no, wait—”
“If you say one more word,” Acrisios interrupted, grabbing the rope and holding it threateningly, “I will tie you up and leave you at the next port.”
“Alright, alright,” Telemachus said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. But the mischievous sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. “Still, Lethea, huh? I never would’ve guessed…”
Acrisios groaned, burying his face in his hands. He knew he’d never hear the end of this.
——
The ship rocked gently against the waves, the creak of wood and the occasional splash of water the only sounds filling the cabin. Acrisios lay sprawled on the bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Beside him, Telemachus shifted for the third time in as many minutes, clearly restless.
Acrisios sighed, turning his head slightly to glance at his friend. “Alright, out with it. What’s wrong this time?”
Telemachus hesitated, staring up at the dark ceiling. He fidgeted with a loose thread on his tunic before finally mumbling, “It’s nothing.”
Acrisios raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve been squirming like a fish caught in a net for the past hour. Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’ to me.”
Telemachus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “It’s stupid.”
“Most things you worry about are,” Acrisios quipped, smirking. “Come on, just say it.”
There was a long pause before Telemachus finally blurted out, “I’m not ready to meet Y/N again!”
Acrisios blinked. “What?”
Telemachus groaned again, turning to face Acrisios, his expression a mix of panic and embarrassment. “I mean—what if she expects… things from me? What if I disappoint her? I don’t—I don’t know how to… properly sleep with a woman!”
Acrisios stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about?”
Telemachus’s face turned bright red. “It’s not funny!” he hissed, shoving Acrisios’s shoulder.
“Actually, it’s hilarious,” Acrisios said between chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye. “Gods, Telemachus, you’ve got to stop overthinking everything.”
Telemachus sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m serious, Acrisios! What if she thinks I’m… inexperienced? What if I mess everything up? She’ll think I’m a joke.”
Acrisios rolled his eyes, sitting up as well. “First of all, I don’t think she cares about that. She’s probably more worried about you coming back in one piece than how ‘experienced’ you are in bed.”
“But—”
“Second,” Acrisios interrupted, placing a hand on Telemachus’s shoulder, “you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. Women aren’t looking for perfection, alright? Just… be yourself. If you care about her, and you treat her right, that’s what matters.” Telemachus looked doubtful, but Acrisios gave him a reassuring smile.
“And third,” Acrisios added with a smirk, “if you’re that desperate for advice, I could always give you a few pointers.”
Telemachus’s eyes widened in horror. “No, gods, no! I don’t want to know what you do with women!”
Acrisios laughed, clapping him on the back. “Suit yourself, but don’t come crying to me if you’re awkward on your first night.”
Telemachus groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet, you keep me around,” Acrisios said with a grin, lying back down.
Despite his teasing, Acrisios’s words stuck with Telemachus, and as the ship swayed gently beneath them, he found himself feeling a little less anxious. Maybe Acrisios was right—maybe he just needed to stop overthinking.
——
The soft glow of dawn filtered through the cabin window as Acrisios stirred awake. He stretched lazily, rubbing his eyes, when an unusual rustling sound caught his attention. Blinking groggily, he propped himself up on one elbow and turned toward the source of the noise.
What he saw nearly made him fall off the bed.
There stood Telemachus, butt ass naked, clutching a pillow against his chest. His face was an intense mask of concentration as he awkwardly shifted his hips and muttered under his breath, seemingly practicing… something. Acrisios stared in stunned silence for a good ten seconds before bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. He clutched his stomach, doubling over on the bed as tears streamed down his face.
“Gods above!” Acrisios wheezed. “What in Hades are you doing, Telemachus?!”
Telemachus froze, his face turning a shade of red so deep it could rival the evening sun. He scrambled to cover himself with the pillow, spinning around to face Acrisios. “I—I wasn’t—It’s not what it looks like!”
Acrisios laughed even harder, practically choking on his breath as he pointed at Telemachus. “Not what it looks like? You’re naked, grinding on a pillow, and talking to it! What else could it possibly be?!”
Telemachus groaned, clutching the pillow tighter and burying his face in it. “I was practicing, alright?!”
That only made Acrisios laugh harder. He rolled onto his back, pounding the bed with his fist. “Practicing! Oh, this is priceless. You’re pathetic, you know that?”
Telemachus glared at him, his face still burning. “I didn’t ask for your opinion!”
Acrisios sat up, still grinning ear to ear. “Oh, I’m definitely telling Y/N about this when we get back to Ithaca. ‘Oh, hey, Y/N, did you know your dear Telemachus spends his mornings seducing pillows?’”
“Don’t you dare!” Telemachus yelled, his voice cracking in panic.
Acrisios leaned forward, smirking wickedly. “Oh, I will. She deserves to know the man she’s been pining over is a lunatic who thinks pillows are practice partners.”
Telemachus groaned, throwing the pillow at Acrisios’s face. “You’re insufferable!”
Acrisios caught the pillow with ease, still laughing. “And you’re pathetic. Don’t throw that at me! I don’t know where that pillow has been. Now, for the love of the gods, put some clothes on before the crew sees you like this. I don’t think I can explain this one to them without dying of laughter.”
Telemachus stomped over to his discarded clothes, muttering curses under his breath as Acrisios continued to snicker.
“Honestly, Telemachus,” Acrisios said, wiping a tear from his eye, “this trip is worth it just for moments like these.”
Telemachus glared at him but said nothing, his dignity in tatters. It would take a lot of convincing—and possibly a bribe—to make sure Acrisios kept this embarrassing moment to himself.
hi! 👋 after reading your new series it made me remember your Telemachus x reader/pandora one so I was thinking imagine Telemachus decided to try and grow some stubble or try to let his facial hair grow thinking he’ll look cooler but yn hates it and tells him to get ride of it and he refuses so she says “fine then no kisses for you until it’s gone. it makes it uncomfortable to smooth your face with kisses” and then he immediately gets rid of it because he needs his wife’s kisses to live
(Sorry I just thought it was cute and had to share since it sounds like something that could happen in your awesome series)
Hope you have a great rest of your day and can’t wait to see what you write next and stay safe out there 👋😊
Telemachus leaned against the doorway of your chambers, arms crossed, chin tilted high like he was about to declare himself king of the world. His lips quirked into a cocky grin, and he jutted his jaw forward dramatically.
“Well?” he asked, voice smug. “Notice anything different?”
You glanced up from your embroidery and squinted. At first you thought perhaps he had a smudge of dirt on his face, but then you realized: a faint, scraggly patch of stubble dotted his chin and jaw, uneven and stubborn.
“Oh gods,” you muttered. “What is that supposed to be?”
He straightened immediately. “It’s a beard,” he announced proudly. “Well—almost a beard. Give it a few weeks, and I’ll look like a fearsome warrior.”
You set your embroidery down and walked closer, studying his face with a mixture of disbelief and poorly hidden amusement. “Fearsome? Telemachus, it looks like a hedgehog is trying to crawl out of your chin.”
His expression faltered for a moment, but he puffed up again, refusing to lose ground. “I’m telling you, once it fills in, it’ll make me look older. More like my father.”
You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “More like a goat.”
“What?” His hands flew up defensively to cover his jaw. “It doesn’t look that bad!”
You sighed dramatically, then leaned closer as though about to kiss him. He tilted his head, smug again, until you stopped an inch away. “No kisses until that’s gone,” you said sweetly, tapping his chin with your finger.
His smile vanished. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“I’m perfectly serious. It’s uncomfortable to kiss. I like my husband’s face smooth—not prickly. So, no kisses.”
Telemachus froze, staring at you like you had just taken away his entire reason for existing. “But… you can’t—“
“I can. And I just did.”
For a moment, he looked like a soldier about to march into battle, weighing his options, fighting an inner war. Then, without a word, he spun on his heel and stormed out. You smirked to yourself, certain you had won.
Sure enough, not fifteen minutes later, Telemachus returned. His hair was still damp from the wash basin, his jaw freshly shaven and smooth once more. He stood in the doorway again, this time looking both sulky and desperate.
“…Well?” he muttered, rubbing the clean skin of his chin.
You smiled triumphantly and tugged him down by the collar, pressing a long kiss to his cheek, then his lips. “Much better,” you murmured against his mouth.
Telemachus melted instantly, arms wrapping around you like a drowning man clutching driftwood. “I knew it,” he mumbled between kisses. “I can’t live without this. I’d rather be clean shaven for life than lose my wife’s affection.”
You chuckled, brushing your lips against his smooth jawline once more. “Lover boy.”
As Telemachus’s ship neared the coastline, the familiar silhouette of Ithaca came into view. The salty breeze carried a bittersweet weight, reminding him of home and of the uncertainty that awaited him there. Yet, even as his heart swelled with longing, Athena’s voice echoed in his mind from the night before.
“Dock at the western port, away from the eyes of others. It is safer there.”
He hadn’t questioned her. He never did. Her guidance had saved him countless times during his journey, and though the eastern port was closer to the palace, something in her tone told him this wasn’t a suggestion.
“Acrisios, steer west,” he called out.
His friend furrowed his brow but obeyed without protest, guiding the ship toward the quieter, rockier shore. The crew worked silently, their movements efficient, until the vessel was safely anchored. Telemachus jumped onto the sand, the familiar earth grounding him after weeks at sea.
“Why are we docking here?” Acrisios asked, hands on his hips as he eyed the deserted coastline.
“Athena’s orders,” Telemachus replied, his gaze scanning the surroundings. “She didn’t say why.”
Before Acrisios could respond, a figure emerged from the trees ahead, sprinting toward them. Telemachus squinted, his heart skipping a beat as he recognized the flowing hair and frantic movements.
“Y/N?” he murmured, his breath catching in his throat. She was running full speed, her face streaked with tears. Her dress was slightly disheveled, and her sandals kicked up clouds of dust as she hurried toward him. Telemachus dropped his pack and ran to meet her, his heart pounding.
“Y/N!” he called out, his voice filled with both relief and worry. When she finally reached him, she threw herself into his arms, clutching him tightly as sobs wracked her body. Telemachus held her close, his arms wrapping protectively around her as he murmured her name.
“Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to see her tear streaked face.
“They… they were going to kill you,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Antinous and the suitors—they planned to ambush your ship at the eastern port. They wanted to throw you into the sea and… and force Penelope to choose one of them.”
Telemachus’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as anger and disbelief surged through him. “Antinous? My mother’s suitors?”
She nodded, her hands gripping his arms as if afraid he would vanish. “I overheard them… Antinous—he’s so blinded by hatred for you and his ambition for the throne. I didn’t know what to do. I just… I couldn’t let them hurt you.”Telemachus exhaled shakily, his heart breaking at the sight of her tearful, panicked expression. He reached up, brushing the hair from her face and wiping her tears with his thumb.
“it’s okay Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude. “Athena must have known. That’s why she told me to dock here.”
She clung to him, her body trembling as her sobs subsided. “I was so scared, Telemachus. I thought I’d lose you.”
He pulled her close again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t lose me, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”
Behind them, Acrisios cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, so… what’s the plan? Because this sounds…like not good.”
Telemachus straightened, his protective instincts flaring as he looked toward the palace in the distance. “The plan is to stop them,” he said firmly, his hand still resting on her back. “But first, I need to know everything. Y/N, tell me everything you overheard.”
She nodded, her voice steadier now as she began recounting the suitors’ plot. Telemachus listened intently, his resolve hardening with each word. Whatever it took, he would protect her, his mother, and his home.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Y/N and Telemachus stood near the ship, the sea breeze tugging at their hair as they exchanged soft laughter. Acrisios leaned against a nearby post, watching with a mix of annoyance and dread. He could already sense where this was going.
“Are you two done being gross yet?” Acrisios asked, crossing his arms and glaring at them.
Telemachus smirked, turning to Y/N with a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you think, love? Are we done?”
She giggled, catching on to his plan. “Hmm, I don’t think so.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to Telemachus’s, and the two began kissing—slowly, and with far too much enthusiasm for Acrisius liking.
“By the gods,” acrisios muttered, groaning as he turned his gaze to the sky. “What did I do to deserve this? Zeus, Athena, anyone listening up there, get me out of this nightmare. Get a room!”
Telemachus pulled back just enough to glance at Acrisius, grinning. “What’s the matter, Acrisios? Feeling lonely? Maybe you should tell her how you feel when we get back to the palace.”
Acrisios froze, his eyes narrowing as a flush crept up his neck. “Don’t you dare—”
She tilted her head, curious. “Her? Who’s her?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Telemachus said, feigning innocence as he kissed her cheek. “Our dear Acrisios has a little crush back home. Isn’t that right, Acrisios? Your father’s friend’s daughter, wasn’t it?”
Acrisios turned red, both from embarrassment and frustration. “You swore you wouldn’t bring that up!”
Telemachus laughed, pulling Y/N closer as if to shield himself from Acrisios’s glare. “I didn’t swear anything. Besides, we’re just talking about feelings. Isn’t love worth discussing?”
“I’m going to kill you,” Acrisios muttered, running his hands through his hair. “I swear, Telemachus, one more word and—”
“Relax, Acrisios,” Telemachus interrupted, now fully leaning into Y/N again. “Why don’t you take notes? Who knows, it might help you impress her when we get back.”
She snorted, burying her face in Telemachus’s shoulder to hide her laugh. Acrisios let out a long, exasperated groan, turning his back on them.
“You two are insufferable,” he muttered, stomping away toward the other side of the ship. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be praying to every god I know to send a storm and drown this madness.”
Telemachus couldn’t contain his laughter as he kissed Y/N’s temple. “I think he’s warming up to us.”
She rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her amusement. “You’re such a tease.”
“And you love it,” Telemachus teased before pulling her in for another kiss, knowing full well Acrisios could still hear their laughter echoing across the ship. As Acrisios stomped off, grumbling to the gods for mercy, a sly smirk suddenly crossed his face. He spun back around, leaning casually against the railing, arms crossed.
“You know,” he began, his voice dripping with mockery, “it’s funny how confident you are, Telemachus. Especially considering the night I caught you—what was it again? Oh, right. Naked, practicing with a pillow, muttering Y/N’s name.”
Telemachus immediately froze, his face flushing a deep crimson. “You—”
She blinked in confusion. “Practicing with a pillow? Telemachus, what is he talking about?”
“I—he’s lying!” Telemachus stammered, shooting Acrisius a glare that could rival Zeus’s lightning.
Acrisios chuckled darkly, clearly savoring the moment. “Oh, am I? Shall I paint the portrait for her, Telemachus? You were—what was it? Holding the pillow, all desperate, saying, ‘Oh, Y/N, I’ll be so good, I promise!’”
“Acrisios!” Telemachus barked, now completely flustered, while she stared at him with wide eyes before bursting into laughter.
“Oh my gods,” she gasped, clutching her stomach. “Is that true? You practiced on a pillow?”
Telemachus covered his face with his hands, his ears practically glowing red. “It was—it’s not what it sounds like!”
“Oh, it’s exactly what it sounds like,” Acrisios interrupted smugly. “And the best part? He got so into it that when I caught him, he practically jumped out of his skin. He’s lucky the pillow didn’t come to life from sheer embarrassment.”
She was laughing so hard now that tears streamed down her cheeks. “Telemachus, you’re adorable!”
“Adorable?” Telemachus groaned, glaring at Acrisius. “You’re dead, Acrisius. I swear, I’ll throw you overboard myself.”
But Acrisius only raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Hey, you’re the one who decided to perfect your ‘skills’ on a pillow. I’m just here to share the good news.”
She leaned into Telemachus, still giggling. “I can’t believe you went to those lengths for me. That’s… kind of sweet, actually.”
Acrisios gave a hearty laugh, turning to leave. “Well, I’ve had my fun. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to pillow talk.”
As he walked off, Telemachus groaned, burying his face in his hands again. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“Probably not,” she teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “But I think it’s cute that you were so nervous about impressing me.”
Teasing as it was, the soft kiss made Telemachus feel a little better—though he was sure Acrisios would pay for this later.
Acrisios wasn’t done. Oh no, not yet. He turned back once more, arms folded and a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know, Y/N, that pillow story is just the beginning of how utterly pathetic he was over you on the voyage.”
Telemachus groaned, his hand already on his face. “Acrisios, don’t—”
But Acrisios was on a roll. “Oh, I must. She deserves to know the full story.” He smirked. “Like the time he tried carving your name into the mast and spelled it wrong halfway through because he was daydreaming about your ‘beautiful smile.’ The crew still laughs about that.”
Her eyes lit up with amusement. “You carved my name?”
Telemachus mumbled, “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, but it was,” Acrisius said, grinning. “He panicked and tried to cover it up, so now the mast says ‘I/N,’ and he claimed it was a prayer to some obscure goddess of… what was it, Telemachus? Fishing?”
She burst out laughing again, and Telemachus turned a deeper shade of crimson. “It was just one mistake,” he muttered.
“One mistake?!” Acrisios snorted. “How about the time he made us stop at that random island because he thought he saw flowers that looked like the ones you like? Turned out they were just weeds, and we wasted a whole day while he dug around like some love struck idiot.”
She gasped through her laughter. “You stopped your entire voyage? For flowers?”
“They looked like the ones you liked!” Telemachus protested, his voice cracking. “How was I supposed to know they weren’t?”
Acrisios raised an eyebrow. “And let’s not forget how he insisted on fishing every single day, convinced he’d catch a rare sea fish ‘worthy’ of you. And guess how many he actually caught? None.”
She was in stitches now, clutching her sides. “Oh gods, Telemachus, you’re hopeless!”
“And don’t even get me started on how he lectured us all on how to be proper gentlemen, because apparently, ‘Y/N deserves nothing but the best.’” Acrisius mimicked Telemachus’s voice mockingly, earning a glare from his friend.
She wiped tears from her eyes, grinning ear to ear. “You really did all that for me?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Telemachus groaned, glaring daggers at Acrisius. “You’re just making it worse.”
But she leaned in, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. “It’s sweet, Telemachus. You’re ridiculous, but sweet.”
“Ridiculously pathetic,” Acrisios added, snickering. “But hey, who am I to judge? I guess it worked. She’s still here.”
Telemachus shot him a warning look. “If you don’t leave right now, I swear by Poseidon’s trident, I’m going to—”
“All right, all right, I’m going!” Acrisios said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. As he walked away, he muttered loud enough for them to hear, “I/N… honestly.”
Telemachus groaned, burying his face in her shoulder. “Why do I even keep him around?”
She just laughed, stroking his hair. “Because deep down, you love him too. And besides, now I have some hilarious stories to tell.”
Telemachus groaned again. “Great. Just great.”
——
As Telemachus leaned into Y/N’s embrace, his attention was suddenly caught by the soft sound of paws shuffling against the stone floor. His breath hitched as a figure slowly approached them—a familiar, graying dog, moving with measured steps.
“Argos?” Telemachus whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
The old dog’s ears perked up slightly at the sound of his name, his cloudy eyes lifting to meet Telemachus. Despite his age, there was still a spark of recognition in Argos’s gaze. Slowly but surely, he made his way toward the pair, his tail giving the faintest wag. She smiled softly and crouched down, holding out her hand. “Come here, boy,” she murmured, her voice gentle.
To Telemachus’s shock, Argos didn’t hesitate. He padded over and nuzzled her outstretched hand, his tail wagging a little more energetically now. Pandora ran her fingers through his fur, her touch careful and soothing.
Telemachus blinked in astonishment. “Wait… he lets you touch him?”
She glanced up at him, amused. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s a sweetheart.”
Telemachus shook his head, still staring at the scene before him. “Argos barely let anyone near him, especially after Father left. He was loyal only to him and mother. I mean, even I have to earn his attention most days.”
She chuckled, scratching behind Argos’s ears as the dog leaned into her hand with a contented sigh. “Maybe he just knows I’m not a threat. Animals can sense these things, you know.”
“Or maybe he’s just as charmed by you as everyone else,” Telemachus muttered, crossing his arms but smiling faintly.
She gave him a playful look. “Jealous of your dog now?”
“No,” Telemachus said quickly, but his expression betrayed him. He knelt down beside Y/N and reached out to pet Argos as well. The dog’s tail thumped against the floor, and Telemachus felt a swell of emotion in his chest.
“I can’t believe he’s still here,” Telemachus murmured, his voice soft. “I thought… after all these months, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again.”
She glanced at him, her teasing tone replaced by something gentler. “He’s been waiting for you, Telemachus. Just like the rest of us.”
Telemachus’s throat tightened, and he gave Argos a firm pat on the side, his fingers brushing against her as they both tended to the old dog. “I guess he’s smarter than I gave him credit for,” Telemachus said, his voice thick with emotion.
Argos let out a low, contented huff, resting his head on her knee. She smiled down at him, then looked up at Telemachus. “See? He approves of me. You should take notes.”
Telemachus laughed softly, the weight of everything they’d been through momentarily lifting. “Fine. You win. Argos likes you more than me.”
“And don’t you forget it,” she replied with a wink, her fingers still moving gently through Argos’s fur.
Y/n was up against the wall. Her lips moving quickly and hungrily against Telemachus’s. Her delicate hands moving up and down his back, pulling him closer and closer. One of his hands was next to her head, the other gently grasped the back of her head.
“Y/n...” Telemacus breathed, his lips not leaving her skin and moving down her jawline to her neck. He heard her-
Telemachus resisted the urge to violently scream and bang his head against the wall. The boy bent down, opening the trapdoor to the tunnel leading to his mother’s room. His thoughts of Y/n only worsened. No matter where he went, she continued to consume his every waking thought. Even while he was about to visit his mother, he was thinking of extremely inappropriate things he should not be thinking of.
Telemachus crawled through the tunnel, cursing himself along the way. He tried to clear any unholy thought from his head and calmly talked to his mother about his day. Ask her about her weaving and discuss how beautiful the weather had been today. And talk about how he wanted to kiss and adore every inch of-
This is bad.
Telemachus gets to the end of the passageway. He takes a deep breath preparing himself fully for the conversation ahead. He unlatched the trapdoor, and crawled through, wiping off his tunic as he stood. He glanced up and saw his mother straightening up her bed, before she saw her son standing there.
“Hello Telemachus,” Penelope sweetly smiled, “Have you had a good day?”
Telemachus held himself back from saying, “It was more than good.” Instead he responded, “Yeah..yeah..it was..pretty good…How was your day?”
“Oh it was perfectly fine. I weaved for a while before I snuck out to the gardens to tend to the lavender..are you quite alright Telemachus?” Penelope tilted her head, glancing at her son. Telemachus was red in the face, his hands slightly shaking. The mention of lavender seemed to only make his turmoil worsen.
“I can’t take this anymore,” Telemachus yelled, burying his face in his hands, “I kissed her.”
“I’m sorry?” His mother asked in a confused manner.
“I did it, mother. I was mad and I cornered her up against the wall. We went back and forth insulting each other and something just-happened..I just kissed her.” The boy explained, running around like someone had cut off his head.
Trying to understand the situation, she moved closer, “Y/n?”
“Y/N!” He shrieked, “And I can’t get her out of my head. She just...lives there now.” He pulled at his hair to show his point, and he groaned in disgust. The prince quickly turned to face his mother.
“But she’s so gorgeous. Her hair and her face and her eyes. It makes me hate her. I really do hate her for it. I shouldn’t be kissing her. She’s the enemy. I know, I know. I don’t know what got in me. I think I’m mentally ill...but how could anyone blame me? How could you have Y/n...Y/n standing in front of you and not kiss her. Everytime I see her I just want to kiss her and wipe the smug grin off her face. But she doesn’t want me. And I don’t want her. This was an accident. A complete mistake. But she didn’t push me away. She would’ve pushed me away if she didn’t like it right? Y/n makes me so sick-” Telemachus was moving around the room, using his arms for emphasis as he frantically paced. He only stopped when his mother’s hand was over his mouth.
“Please be quiet..for one second.” The queen laughed at her son’s panic. Telemachus took a deep breath and his mother took her hand off of his mouth.
“What do I do?” He quietly said, looking down into his mother’s brown eyes. All his mother did was sigh and put her hand on his shoulder.
Penelope’s hand then moved down to his chest where his heart was frantically beating at even the simple thought of Y/n, “Lead with your heart Telemachus..it’s what you do best.”
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Telemachus lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling as the flickering light of the oil lamp danced across the room. The palace was silent except for the distant murmur of waves crashing against the Ithacan shores. Yet, despite the stillness, his thoughts were anything but calm.
He clenched his jaw and turned onto his side, burying his face in the pillow. Why can’t I stop thinking about it? The memory of Y/N’s lips on his flashed vividly in his mind, soft and sudden and charged with an intensity he hadn’t expected. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image to fade.
But it didn’t.
Instead, the memory grew more vivid, and before he could stop himself, his mind wandered to the way she’d felt against him, her hand pressed to his chest, her body so close to his that he could feel her warmth. His thoughts turned darker, imagining things he’d never dare admit aloud. His hands on her waist as he ravaged her, wanting to feel her around his—“No!”— He yelled out, shaking his head violently as if he could physically dislodge the images.
“This is insane,” he muttered to himself, rolling onto his other side. His heart pounded, and he felt his face flush despite being alone. He tried counting sheep, thinking of Odysseus’s great adventures, or reciting the Greek tales in his mind, but nothing worked. His thoughts kept slipping back to her, her smirk, her sharp tongue, her teasing remarks, and now, her kiss.
“Stop it, stop it,” he hissed under his breath, throwing an arm over his face. Yet, the more he tried to fight the images, the stronger they became. He rolled again, this time so forcefully that he lost his balance. With a yelp, he tumbled out of bed and landed on the cold stone floor with a dull thud. For a moment, he just lay there, sprawled on the ground, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. His face was burning, his body restless, and his pride thoroughly bruised. He sat up slowly, rubbing his elbow where he’d knocked it against the floor. “Get a grip, Telemachus,” he said to himself, his voice sharp with self-reproach. “She’s just—she’s Y/N. Antinous’s sister. A thorn in my side. Nothing more. The kiss was nothing more than an accident, and I bet she thinks that too.”
But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true.
With a frustrated groan, he climbed back into bed, yanking the blanket over his head as if hiding would somehow banish the thoughts plaguing him.
Sleep, however, continued to elude him.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Telemachus paced his room, wringing his hands as his mind waged war against itself. Every logical thought screamed at him to stay put, to push down the chaotic emotions that had been bubbling since the kiss. Yet, the pull of Y/N, her smirk, her sharp tongue, the brief but searing connection they’d shared, was too strong to resist.
Before he could stop himself, he was slipping through the secret passageway, the torch in his hand casting long, flickering shadows against the damp walls. His heart pounded with every step, his breath shallow as he approached the entrance to her room.
He pushed the concealed panel aside quietly, stepping into her dimly lit chamber. She was asleep, her face half buried in her pillow, strands of curly hair splayed out like a halo. For a moment, Telemachus simply stood there, watching her. She seemed so… peaceful, so unlike the sharp tongued tease he argued with daily. But even in sleep, she was Y/N—a force of chaos he couldn’t get out of his mind.
As he took a hesitant step forward, the floor creaked beneath his weight. She stirred, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, her gaze focusing on him in the faint light. “Telemachus?” she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. She didn’t seem alarmed this time, more confused than anything. “What are you doing here?”
Telemachus froze, his pulse racing. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. “Don’t tell me you’re here to break another vase,” she said, propping herself up on one elbow. Her voice held a familiar teasing lilt, but it lacked the sharp edge he was used to. “If you are, I’d recommend actually trying to break it.”
Her casual tone was the final crack in Telemachus’s resolve. He threw his hands up, his voice loud and raw with emotion. “I can’t stop thinking about you!” Her eyes widened, and she sat up fully, the blanket slipping slightly off her shoulders.
“I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t do anything without you invading my mind,” he continued, pacing in front of her like a man possessed. “You’ve been driving me insane, Y/N! Ever since that kiss—damn it, ever since before the kiss I’ve been losing my mind!”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t give her the chance. “And I know you don’t care. I know you probably think I’m some foolish little prince who doesn’t know what he wants. But I don’t care anymore.” His voice cracked as he stopped in front of her, looking down at her with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Just let me kiss you one last time, and then I’ll leave. I swear. Just one more kiss.”
The silence that followed was heavy, charged with the weight of his confession. Y/n stared at him, her expression unreadable, her lips slightly parted as if she didn’t know how to respond. Telemachus, trembling and flushed from his outburst, took a step back, running a hand through his hair. “Forget it,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and embarrassment. “I’ll go.”
But even as he turned, he couldn’t bring himself to move another step, waiting—hoping—for her to say something. His shoulders slumped in defeat as the weight of his own confession settled over him. His feet felt like lead, but before he could take another step, he felt a hand grab his wrist.
He froze.
“Telemachus,” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, so unlike the sharp, teasing tone he was used to. Before he could turn to face her, she tugged on his arm, pulling him back toward her. His balance wavered, and before he knew it, her other hand had slid up to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips.
The kiss wasn’t like their first, hurried and impulsive. This one was slower, deeper, and deliberate. It wasn’t just a clash of emotions but an acknowledgment of everything unspoken between them. Telemachus’s breath hitched as he leaned into her, his hands instinctively gripping her waist as if to ground himself. Her touch was firm but not forceful, her lips moving against his in a way that sent his mind spiraling.
When she finally pulled back, just a breath away, her gaze locked onto his. The teasing smirk he’d expected wasn’t there; instead, her eyes were searching, hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. “You’re such an idiot,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Telemachus blinked, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears. “I—what?”
“You burst into my room, ranting like a madman,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And then you’re just…going to leave after saying all that?”
He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “I thought you didn’t care—”
“Maybe you don’t know everything, little wolf,” she interrupted, her hand still resting lightly on his neck. They stood there in silence, the air between them heavy and electric. Telemachus opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.
“Don’t think too hard about it,” she said, her smirk finally returning as she released him and leaned back against her pillows. “You’ll hurt yourself trying to use that little cute brain of yours.”
Telemachus stepped back, dazed and breathless. “I—uh, I should go,” he stammered, his face flushed. He turned toward the secret passage, his legs unsteady. As he reached the hidden door, his foot caught on the edge of her rug, and he stumbled, nearly falling face first into the wall.
She laughed softly behind him. “Try not to trip over yourself next time, wolf.” He straightened, waving a hand awkwardly as he avoided looking back. “I’m fine!” he called over his shoulder, his voice cracking slightly. “Perfectly fine!”
The door slid shut behind him,
Y/n sighed as she lay back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling. The room felt unusually quiet after Telemachus’s abrupt departure, his flustered stammering still echoing faintly in her ears. She brushed her fingers over her lips absentmindedly, her thoughts swirling in a way she wasn’t used to.
Then, the door to the secret passage creaked open again.
She shot up, her eyes narrowing. “Telemachus?”
Sure enough, there he was, standing awkwardly in the doorway with a sheepish look on his face. His hair was even messier than before, and he avoided her gaze as he stepped into the room, shutting the passage behind him. “Are you serious?” she asked, crossing her arms. “What now?”
“I—I couldn’t leave,” he admitted, his voice quiet but earnest. “I don’t want to leave you, Y/N. Not tonight.” Her expression softened, though she quickly masked it with a raised eyebrow. “What, did you forget how to get back to your room? Or are you just this clingy?”
“I’m serious,” he said, taking a hesitant step closer. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to spend another night lying awake, wishing I were here instead.” She opened her mouth to respond, but the raw vulnerability in his eyes stopped her. For all his usual blustering and self-righteousness, he looked…honest. Lost, even.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Then tell me to leave,” he challenged, his voice trembling slightly. “Tell me, and I’ll go.” Her lips parted, but the words didn’t come. She stared at him for a long moment, and then, with a resigned groan, she patted the space next to her on the bed. “Fine. But just this once.”
Telemachus hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest, before he moved to sit beside her. The bed was warm, and y/n’s presence so close made his thoughts swim.
“Lie down,” she instructed, rolling her eyes. “You look like a kicked puppy standing there.” He did as she said, his body stiff and awkward as he stretched out beside her. She reached for a blanket, draping it over both of them before shifting closer, her arm wrapping loosely around him.
“Are you comfortable now, little wolf?” she asked, her voice tinged with exasperation but also something softer. Telemachus nodded, though his face was burning. “Yeah… thanks.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. Y/N’s hand rested on his shoulder, her breathing slow and steady. Telemachus found himself relaxing despite the storm of emotions in his chest. “Don’t make this a habit,” she muttered sleepily, her head resting lightly against his.
“I won’t,” he whispered, though the thought of leaving her side felt impossible now. Moments later, her breathing deepened as she drifted off, her arm tightening slightly around him. Telemachus, still wide awake, allowed himself a small, fleeting smile before finally succumbing to sleep, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.
୨୧┇warnings: panic attacks and descriptions of bruises and etc
────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───
Y/N staggered through the hallways, trying to hold back sobs. She had nothing, no one. She was utterly alone. Telemachus was away at sea, Antinous hated her, the suitors had resorted to mocking and humiliating her. For the first time in years, she felt powerless and weak. She racked her brain with who to go to. The servants hated her and there isn’t a suitor in the castle who truly cares about her. Telamachus’s words rang through her head.
“And if you need someone..go to my mother. Knock on her door 4 times.”
Penelope.
There was no chance the woman no less than despised her. She had humiliated her, humiliated her son and his honor, and was the sister of the most awful suitor in the palace. But what did she have to lose? She couldn't take this alone any longer. She crawled up the stairs to Penelope’s room, her body aching with every step. She didn’t even want to know how disheveled she appeared. When she reached the correct floor, she moved through the corridor, not caring how messy her steps echoed through the palace. She stood in front of Penelope’s door, staring at it like she was walking into death itself. She couldn’t bring herself to knock on the door.
“Why would she help me? After everything I’ve done?”
She debated walking away. Going back to her room feeling empty. For some reason, she didn’t turn away but instead lifted her hand to the wooden door.
Knock, Knock, Knock, Knock
The queen opened the door, her tone sharp, “Y/N.” Her voice then fell off when she saw the state she was in. Her messy hair and slumped posture. The bruise forming on her eye and the blood trickling from her lip. The tears in her eyes were still flowing and staining her cheeks.
“Come in, come in.” Penelope quietly said, ushering her inside. She put her hands on the young girl’s shoulders and sat her down in a wooden chair. Penelope looked horrified as she examined the girl's face.
“What happened Y/N?” Penelope breathed out, running to grab a rag and some water. Pandora desperately tried to swallow the tears that threatened to surface once again.
“Antinous and I…we’ve been arguing. He said he wouldn’t protect me from the suitor’s anymore…and they took that to their advantage.” She softly said, her voice broken and her pride bruised. She wasn’t sure why she had told Penelope anything, the words just came flowing out.
“Poor thing..” Penelope whispered, moving to her knees to gently grab her chin. She carefully dabbed the rag on the girl’s split lip, and softly apologized when she winced. They sat there in silence as Penelope carefully took care of her.
“It should heal in a few days..” She softly said, getting off of her knees and putting the water and rag back in the spot where she had retrieved it from, “The bruise on the other hand I’m not so sure about.”
For some reason, y/n had stood up in the middle of the room. When Penelope turned around again, she saw the girl looking back at her.
“Why are you helping me?” She shakily said, “I’ve done everything to destroy your life. I don’t deserve your care.”
Penelope’s face softened as she looked at the girl. She slowly moved closer, now being able to see the tears in her eyes. All Penelope could see was a young Helen. Confused and overwhelmed.
Her motherly instincts took over and she wrapped her arms around y/n’s shaking frame. She was stiff at first before relaxing against her touch and wrapping her arms around the queen.
“..Because I can tell you’ve been through a hard life. You’re not the product of Antinous. You’re Y/N. And I need to give that a chance.” Penelope whispered, stroking her fingers through Y/N’s hair.
A soft sob left her lips, “Everything’s falling apart…My brother hates me…Telemachus is away...I’m alone.”
Penelope only held the girl tighter, “You’re not alone. I’m here.”
She moved her face away from the crook of Penelope’s neck, “You should hate me.” She sobbed, trying to sniffle her tears away.
Penelope sighed, looking down at Y/N’s teary rich eyes, “My son loves you…that means I love you as well.” Her eyes widened. She had never heard any mother figure say that to her in her life. It was a foreign concept. She let out another sob, resting her head back into the crook of her neck. Penelope only held her closer before moving them to the bed and laying down with y/n curled up in her arms.
“I wish he would come home.” She cried, her voice mumbled.
Penelope only sighed, gently rubbing her back, “I know.” They stayed throughout the night, fulfilling the comfort that they both equally needed.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Antinous stormed down the halls of the palace, his vision blurred by anger and guilt. Each step he took felt heavier, his chest constricted like a vice. The sound of his boots echoed against the stone walls, but his mind drowned it out with the pounding of his own thoughts.
Slamming the door to his room, he let out a guttural yell, his voice raw with frustration. He grabbed the nearest object—a wooden stool—and hurled it against the wall, the crash reverberating through the room as it shattered into pieces. His breaths came in ragged gasps as he continued his rampage, swiping books off his shelves, tearing down curtains, and upending furniture.
“She doesn’t understand!” he shouted to no one, his voice cracking. “She doesn’t know what I’ve done for her! I’m in the right!” His fists slammed against the desk, splintering the wood beneath the force.
His anger spiraled, a storm he couldn’t control. He picked up a vase, one of the few items left unbroken, and hurled it against the wall, the shards scattering across the floor like tiny stars. His hands shook as he grabbed at his own hair, pulling at the roots in a futile attempt to ground himself.
“You’re just like Mother.”
Her words echoed in his mind, louder and louder, until they drowned out every other thought. With a roar, he turned to the mirror hanging on the wall and punched it with all his strength. The glass shattered, fragments cascading to the ground like glittering rain. His knuckles dripped blood, crimson streaks staining the shards at his feet. He stood there, panting, his chest heaving as he stared at the broken reflection of himself. But it wasn’t his face he saw.
In the jagged pieces of the mirror, her face stared back at him. His mother’s cold, angry eyes. Her twisted smirk. The same sneer she wore when she beat him down, when she broke him piece by piece.
“No…” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands trembled as he clutched the frame of the shattered mirror, his blood smearing across the glass. “Do I… Do I look like her?” His breath hitched as he stared at the reflection, his face warped by the uneven shards. The resemblance was undeniable—the fury, the disdain, the cruelty. He saw it all.
Antinous stumbled back, his legs giving out as he collapsed onto the floor. The room was silent now, save for his ragged breaths and the faint drip of blood from his knuckles. He looked down at his hands, scarred and bloodied, and felt an overwhelming wave of disgust.
“Have I… always been like this? Did I always have that mole on my cheek..?” he murmured, his voice breaking.
The weight of it all crushed him—the years of bitterness, the anger, the way he had treated his sister. He leaned his head back against the wall, tears streaming down his face as he closed his eyes. All he could see was her face, younger and frightened, looking up at him for protection. And all he could hear were her words.
“You’re just like Mother.”
“You’re just like her.”
“You’ve become her.”
Antinous sat motionless on the floor of his room, his head leaning against the cold wall as his chest heaved with silent sobs. His bloody knuckles stung, but the pain felt distant, like a whisper compared to the storm raging in his heart. Slowly, memories he had buried deep began clawing their way back to the surface, dragging him into the past. He was no older than ten, his body still small but sturdy for his age. The dim candlelight flickered in the cramped kitchen as he stood in front of his mother, his tiny fists clenched tightly at his sides. Behind him, six year old Y/N cowered on the floor, her hands trembling as she clutched the pieces of a shattered clay cup.
“I didn’t mean to!” She wailed, her tear streaked face buried in her arms. “I’m sorry, Momma! I didn’t mean to break it!”
Their mother loomed over them, her face contorted with rage. The smell of wine on her breath filled the air as she reached for the girl with a sharp, snapping voice. “You think sorry is enough, you little brat? That cup was worth more than your life!”
She whimpered, curling into herself, but before their mother could grab her, Antinous stepped in front of her, his arms spread wide like a shield.
“It was me!” Antinous blurted out, his voice cracking with panic. “I—I broke the cup, Momma. It wasn’t her. She didn’t do anything!”
Their mother froze, narrowing her eyes at him. “You think you can lie to me, boy?”
Antinous swallowed hard, but he didn’t back down. His body trembled as he stood his ground, even as his mother’s shadow loomed larger and darker over him. “It was me,” he said again, his voice quieter this time but firm. “I’m the one who broke it.”
His mother’s hand struck him so fast he barely saw it coming. The slap echoed through the room, followed by Y/N’s startled cry. Antinous stumbled back but didn’t fall. He straightened himself and stood tall, his face stinging but his resolve unbroken.
“You think you’re brave?” his mother spat, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him forward. “You think you can get away with anything because you’re the boy? I’ll teach you to respect what little we have!”
The first blow of the wooden spoon came down hard on his back, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. He wouldn’t let his ssiter hear him scream. She was already crying enough for the both of them, her sobs filling the room as she watched helplessly.
“Stop it!” She cried, trying to crawl toward him. “Stop hurting him! He didn’t do anything! Momma, please!”
“Stay back, N/N!” Antinous shouted through clenched teeth, glancing over his shoulder to meet her terrified gaze. “Don’t come closer! Just—just stay back!”
But the beating continued. Each strike sent pain coursing through his small body, but he bore it silently, refusing to let their mother see him break. He kept his eyes locked on her, her tear streaked face the only thing anchoring him.
When their mother finally stopped, she threw him to the floor like a rag doll. “Next time, maybe you’ll learn to be more careful,” she hissed before storming off, muttering curses under her breath.
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by y/n’s soft, hiccupping sobs. Antinous lay on the floor for a moment, his body aching, before he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.
She crawled to him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry, Antinous. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
Antinous winced as her arms brushed against his bruised back, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he hugged her tightly, resting his chin on her shoulder. “It’s okay, N/N,” he whispered, his voice hoarse but steady. “I promised I’d protect you, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter what happens to me. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.”
The memory faded, and Antinous blinked, staring blankly at the shattered mirror in front of him. His reflection was fractured, split into pieces, just like he felt inside. The sight of his sister’s bruised face earlier replayed in his mind, and he clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms.
“How did I become this?” he whispered, his voice shaking. “How did I become her?”
For the first time in years, Antinous felt powerless, a child again, staring up at the shadow of his mother that he swore he’d never become.
Note: the name Pandora isn’t gonna stay cause I know how people get annoyed when they find x readers and it’s just a random ho’s name instead of y/n but enjoy!!
Telemachus straightened his tunic as he walked through the courtyard, clutching a scroll under one arm. He had hoped to avoid the Suitors’ usual antics today. Unfortunately, fate or perhaps the gods seemed determined to test his patience.
“Telemachus,” came a smooth, mocking voice.
He sighed. Turning slowly, he was met with y/n, Antinous’s younger sister, perched gracefully on a low wall. Her hair caught the sunlight in a way that seemed annoyingly deliberate, her smirk as sharp as her brother’s dagger.
“Y/n,” he said curtly, already preparing himself for whatever remark she had ready.
“Where are you off to in such a rush?” she asked, hopping down from the wall to saunter toward him. “Or are you just trying to avoid me? That would hurt my feelings little wolf, you know.”
Telemachus rolled his eyes. “I’m busy, y/n. Some of us have responsibilities.”
“Oh, responsibilities,” she echoed with mock reverence, trailing a finger along the scroll in his hand. “How noble. Tell me, does being so serious ever get boring?”
He stepped back, clutching the scroll tighter. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Come now, don’t be like that,” she teased, leaning in closer. “You know you love our little chats.” Her tone dripped with amusement, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And it’s not every day you get to be graced by someone as charming as me.”
“Charming isn’t the word I’d use,” Telemachus muttered under his breath.
Y/n gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. “Is that any way to speak to a lady?”
“You’re about as much a lady as your brother,” he shot back, before immediately regretting it.
Her grin widened. “Oh, Telemachus, I didn’t know you thought of me so much. Should I be flattered?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence with a hint of mischief. “If I’m “about as much as a lady as my brother” then that would mean you’re as manly as your mother. Are you hiding something softer under that tunic?” she hollered as she cracks her knuckles and reels back her arm and roughly smacks the young prince’s ass.
Telemachus lets out groan and squirms away from her hand. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”, he barks out as he goes and rubs his ass, trying to lessen the pain that her hand has impacted on him. “The real question is what’s wrong with you?, you’re moaning like a bitch for me already, and I haven’t even done any real action—yet.” Y/n teases with a smirk.
Telemachus’s face burned red, his hand still reflexively rubbing the spot where Pandora had so boldly struck him. “By the gods, y/n, must you always act like this?” he snapped, glaring at her as she stood there, completely unbothered.
“Oh, little wolf, don’t tell me you’re upset.” Y/n leaned against the nearest column, lazily crossing her arms. Her grin was as infuriating as ever. “It’s not my fault you’re so… reactive. I barely touched you.”
“That’s not the point!” Telemachus hissed, his tone laced with embarrassment. “You can’t just go around—doing that!”
“Why not?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the prince of Ithaca, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be able to handle a little attention? Or does my touch leave you… rattled?” She stepped closer, her tone softening into something almost sultry.
“Rattled?” Telemachus repeated, taking a step back. He tried to summon the confidence his father was so well-known for, but y/ns audacity always managed to throw him off balance. “You’re insufferable. And inappropriate!”
“Inappropriate?” Y/n tapped her chin thoughtfully, as if the concept was foreign to her. “No, I don’t think so. I’m just trying to prove a point.”
“And what point is that?” he shot back, exasperated.
“That you’re far too easy to fluster.” Y/n’s grin widened as she circled him, her steps slow and deliberate. “It’s almost too much fun, watching the ‘future king’ squirm like this. Tell me, Telemachus, how will you face a battlefield if you can’t even handle a little teasing, from a woman nonetheless.”
Telemachus clenched his jaw, refusing to rise to her bait. “A battlefield doesn’t involve someone like you,” he muttered.
Y/n laughed, the sound ringing out like a bell. “Oh, I’m sure it doesn’t. But who knows? Maybe I’d be good for you. After all, you’re wound tighter than a ship’s rope.” She stopped in front of him, her face suddenly serious, though her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “Perhaps you’d loosen up if you stopped running away every time I came near.”
“I don’t run away,” he said defensively, taking another step back.
“You just did,” she pointed out, gesturing to the distance he’d put between them.
Telemachus opened his mouth to retort, then closed it again, realizing she had a point. “You’re impossible,” he finally said, shaking his head.
“And yet, here you are,” y/n replied with a smirk, crossing her arms again. “Always coming back for more.”
With an irritated groan, Telemachus turned on his heel and strode toward the hall. “Stupid, dumb, idiotic, pompous little-“. Telemachus endlessly mutters as he continues to walk to the library.
