Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you are childhood best friends navigating life with the suitors.
Both of you discover your sick fantasies of killing the suitors and uhhh *reveling in it* while covered in blood are shared.
However, you hardly have time to process this fact before a unfathomable storm reaches the coast of Ithaca... wait is that man on fucking raft fighting the god of the sea? Hello??
Anyway they fuck on Antinous' corpse.
!!THERE WILL BE ODY X PENELOPE REUNION SMUT!!
(Originally on my ao3. I update on there faster and have more chapters out!)
CHAPTER 1
My eyes scan over the words on the parchment—pursuing a scroll on herbal identification I’d recently picked out at the library— until I hear a clumsy pair of sandals walk through the front door. I perk up, recognizing those heavy steps
“Tel–-Whaaaaaat the fuck happened?”
Before me stands my childhood best friend—who just so happens to also be the crown prince of Ithaca—covered in mud and muddy hand prints.
“What? Did you have to chase one of the local pigs around town or something?”
“HA!” Telemachus laughs with an overtly sarcastic tone, “More like the ‘pigs’ were chasing me.” He says gruffly, grimacing at today's run in with the suitors.
“Fucking hell, Lyra they were on one today,” He starts while sounding downright exhausted.
“We had an ale shipment come into the harbor, right? Those fucking bastards jacked the damned thing! Drank half of it before we could unload what was left for Zeus’ sake. Not just that, but one of the men got so drunk that he tr–”
I listen intently, that is up until I fully take him in: bruises here and there in addition to his scraped and swollen knuckles. I notice he has a slightly bloodied nose that he’s been rubbing off on his sleeve.
“—Is that fucking BLOOD????” I immediately get up to inspect him with concerned brows.
“Ok, maybe—”
“TELEMACHUS!”
“LYRA!”
“TELEMACHUS!!”
Ever since we met, Telemachus has always had a big heart— bigger than himself. And that’s where the problems arise.
He’s protective of the people he loves, always has been and always will. Even when we were small he’d try and tell off the asshole kids around town if they’d tried to bully me— usually it’d end with him garnering a black eye and a scraped knee, but he never cared. I’d always return the favor as his partner in crime. We’ve had each other's backs since day one.
I’ve found myself on more than one occasion smiling back at those times, when days were easier. His mother’s suitors were still somewhat behaved, the kingdom less restless, both of us having lesser responsibilities. We’d duel with wooden swords until we tired ourselves out, laying in the grass and daydreaming of days when we’d get into real fights and put our skills to the test. Recently though, I fear that could be any day now… The suitors have grown stronger, violent, and larger in numbers.
I put my face in my hands,
“You can’t take all those dogs at once and you know it. Why did you pick a fight you can’t win??”
“And who’s to say that?” He smirks, flexing like an idiot.
“You look like an idiot.” I say flatly.
“But like, a really strong and still very much ALIVE idiot!”
“Zeus and all the gods above— YOU HAVE MUD SEEPING INTO YOUR WOUNDS!”
He ducks his head behind his arms as I swat him,
“Go clean yourself up. I wanna see what damage I’m working with here.”
“FINE, FINE! Bloody hell woman!” Telemachus says with an exaggerated expression contrived of false frustration while he heads to the washroom.
I stand up from the bed and walk over to monitor him, my back turned to the doorway I stand to the side of. I hear him begin to wash in the basin.
“Do you need me to fetch you a new tunic? That one is a mess.”
He sighs, “I guess I should change—“
I go and retrieve one of his spares he keeps here—a testimate to just how often these occurrences happen.
I hear him chuckle from the other room,
“That’s fine. I’ll change in a second, I’ll settle for a towel for now.”
I hear a hiss of pain escape the washroom.
On instinct my body turns slightly to the sound, “Hey, are you ok?”
“Yeah, just scrubbed a bruise a little hard,”he says with reassurance in his voice, “I’m just about done.”
I pass him a large towel, my body still turned away from the door frame as he finishes up a moment later. I move to my bed and pat the spot next to me as he bundles himself.
“Here, sit. I’m going to get you some cloth for those scrapes.”
“Ok—“ he mutters somewhat embarrassed, realizing how often I’ve had to patch him up as of late. Even though he’s not as expressive as he’d like to be about it; he really appreciates the care I put into fixing him up.
I return with the cloth and some leaves. I’d found myself researching more pain relieving plants as of late— trying to be proactive for Ithaca's klutziest, overconfident fist-fighter. Though he could definitely hold his own with a sword, his form with hand-to-hand combat is still a work in progress. I will admit, he’s won a lot more fights lately, which I’m very proud of him for. But I do wish that fact didn’t give him the confidence to pick opponents that are out of his league.
I place down the items next to my grind stone and crush the leaves before I place them on the wounds of his knuckles.
Telemachus visibly relaxes as I spread the paste across his hands,
“That actually feels kinda nice…”
I smile softly, “I’m glad. I was hoping it wouldn’t hurt.” I wrap his hands in the cloth, careful to make sure that it’s secure from any movements and gestures.
“Tilt your head.” I tell him, getting up close while I’m trying to stop any bleeding.
“Yes mother.” he teases as he does what I ask of him. I shoot him a warning look.
“Ok sorry! Sorry!” He chuckles as he accepts the cloth and holds it to his nose and ensures it’s securely in place.
“Thanks Lyra. Seriously.”
I sigh, hardly putting any real frustration behind it.
“It’s okay, you just have to be more careful,” I say sitting down diagonal to his chair,
“I worry.”
“I know,” he says, “but I can’t help it! It’s fucked up that they get to walk around and get away with murder. Literal murder, Lyra! And NO ONE does anything about it.”
“I know….” I’m silent for a moment.
“I know you have Athena to aid you but remember YOU are still a mortal. You’re not invincible.”
He considers my words,
“Yeah. No you’re right… sometimes I forget that.” He admits sheepishly,
“But I’m not done yet, just wait and see. I’m going to kick all of their asses once and for all soon enough; that’s a promise.”
I smile at the idea. “I know you will.”
I sit back up and throw his fresh clothes at him, “but you can’t do that if you catch a cold, warm up a bit”
Chapter warning: !!SMUTTTTTT 18+!! And bloody smex
Overall story tropes: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual and occasional smut/PWP, fluff
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
Only 3 mortals stand tall among 108 bodies.
The palace is silent aside from our challenged breathing and the dripping of blood.
Odysseus takes a last scan over the room. It’s hard to tell if he does this to spot any possible survivors or because he wants to bask in the fruits of his labor a little while longer. Now that he’s sure there’s no remaining threats, his gaze falls on Telemachus.
He gently puts down his weapons while making his way across the room. His face is the polar opposite of what we’d seen. His eyes are still sunken in with dark circles surrounding them…
But they’re soft…genuine.
He lets loose his hood so Telemachus can see his face.
“Son...”
There’s no doubt in his voice, no hesitation. This was the child whom had been fighting off men and monsters for.
He saw his own flesh and blood in the boy's beautiful brown eyes the moment he met them.
In a world where Odysseus didn’t become the man that he is today, he would’ve said his boy is his spitting image–a deadringer, really. But alas… Telemachus is bright… And he’s is not that man anymore…
“Father,” his son says as those brown eyes shine with excitement and pricking tears.
Telemachus half-walks-half-runs to meet him in the middle. He stares in sheer disbelief. He had tried for so long to envision what he might look like, and now he doesn’t have to. He struggles to speak,
“…All my life I’d have died to meet you…” He says with emotion swelling in his voice.
Odyssey’s eyes soften more so.
He’s looking into the grown face of what was once his small child before those 20 long years. Images of the ages he never got to witness flash in his mind.
His first steps, his first words, his first fight…Every birthday he’d missed. He sees all of it fly before him.
Athena is looking in wonder from the sidelines. Ares is bewildered by the violent change in tone. It renders him curious.
To give them their space, the pair vanish from the mortal plane. Athena is warmed by the reunion…She’ll return to them soon enough.
“I’d have given anything to know you...I dreamt for so long what it might be to know you beyond the likes of your name…” Telemachus chokes back tears,
“…And now you’re here…”
Odysseus is rendered completely defenseless. Even if he tried to imagine the feelings he was experiencing right now, he would never be able to.
Telemachus continues,
“I’ve always wondered if we’re like each other…If I have your strength… if you could see yourself in me…”
Odysseus interjects,
“My boy, look how much you’ve grown…” his voice quivers as he tries to find the right words.
“My darling, strong boy… the sweetest joy I’ve ever known…”
His eyes sparkle as he continues to speak,
“I was never around to see you become the man you are today. And for that I will live a lifetime of regrets…” Odysseus says, with a trembling smile.
“The time I suffered away from you has nearly killed me… You’re everything I could possibly imagine and more, my son.”
His voice cracks,
“I can only imagine the things you yourself have suffered… the trials you’ve gone through…”
“Father, how I’ve missed you!” Telemachus exclaims, no longer able to hold back his tears.
“Telemachus…” Odysseus cups his son’s face in his calloused hands. He feels the tears run down his cheeks.
“…I’m finally home.”
Telemachus throws his arms around his father, making him stumble backward with the force of it. Odysseus holds him dearly—tightly enough that no man dead nor alive could unclasp his grip on the boy.
He’s home.
They embrace, heads on each other's shoulders. Telemachus grips his tunic tightly and softly sobs into his father’s shoulder.
I watch from a ways back, feeling my own tears faintly roll.
Unbeknownst to me, Alekos and a guard had come to stand in the doorway to the aftermath.
My friend joins me and puts a hand on my shoulder. He keeps it there as a token of comfort and watches with me.
After some time, they part.
Odysseus finally takes notice of me and his servant.
“Tell my wife I’m home.” He kindly directs Alekos,
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
He watches as he and the guard depart for Penelope’s room. He looks at me, then gives a questioning look to Telemachus.
“Oh—!” Telemachus exclaims, a tad flustered that he’d forgotten my presence in the past couple minutes spent catching up. He stumbles over his words,
“That’s my friend Lyra…I’m sure you saw.. Um,” he rambles. He’s not sure how to navigate his reunion with Odysseus AND the whole word-vomit confession bullshit from earlier.
“...saw her fighting by my side—She made sure mother was safe too! I’d love for you both to meet properly,” he says.
Odysseus nods and gives me a small and genuine smile—the kind that seems to know something.
“I would love to. You two seem… close.”
He shares the same look with Telemachus. He ruffles his hair lightly and goes forth to the bed chambers, leaving us alone in the middle of the large room.
Tlemeachus turns red and looks away, then he takes a moment to really take in the aftermath of it all…
There’s red running out of necks, stomachs; everything. Men filled with holes and gashes litter the palace. His blush from earlier faded quickly as he was reminded of where he is and what carnage there is.
We mutually decided to walk silently through the palace to see what kind of shape we’d left the other rooms.
Some of the men lay on top of one another. In some areas, there are fewer wasted than in others.
In the great hall, you can faintly hear drops of blood slowly hit the floor, echoing throughout, tapping rhythmically. There’s thick puddles of it; and some messy hand prints. Gore has found its way into every corner of the room,
I’m in awe, just taking it all in…. It’s almost… arousing.
What had previously been a boisterous hall of drunken, loudmouth wannabe rapists and killers and is now a sullen and hollowed room.
We stand there close together and mesmerized by the sight in front of us… There’s no longer any kind of threat. And with Odysseus home, I doubt there will be any of the likes again.
The air smells metallic. You can almost taste it. The room is full of a thick and heavy feeling.
I look at Telemachus.
His clothes are entirely ruined with blood—as are mine—His chiton has tears, revealing skin and mild wounds… which I’m sure I’ll be fixing later.
My eyes follow the string of rips in his tunic, taking in the exposed bits of his chest and thighs.
Fucking hell.
His skin is splattered; blood drips from some of his own injuries too.
Thanks to the high from the whole ordeal, he can’t feel the pain at this point even if he wanted to.
I reach out hesitantly to trace one of his wounds through the torn fabric to test how bad it is and get a better feel for it. His body tenses at my touch.
I look at him, worrying about the injury at first— until I see his expression isn’t one contrived of pain.
His pupils are blown and his complexion is completely flushed. His breathing has gotten significantly heavier with the contact.
Fucking hell.
The leftover adrenaline flows heavily in my bloodstream…I feel warmth rushing between my legs; and I feel myself losing my mind.
Telemachus’ hand twitches open—a tell that he’s feeling anxious or antsy—or maybe something else. I don’t think it’s anxiety, but… excitement.
I know that tic is not nerves from the killing.
There it is. There’s that tension in his body.
SMUT WARNING
I quietly look at his tremored hand knowing what’s going through his head is exactly what’s going through mine; and when I look at his face… He’s hardly the same sweet, innocent, sometimes sheepish boy that I know and love. This is someone I hadn’t yet met… But someone I’d love to get to know.
My heartbeat is thumping so loudly in my ears that I wonder if he can hear it... Or feel it in my touch—my hand hasn’t moved from him— it’s planted in place.
The silence between us is deafening.
I take in the way his chest rises and falls prominently… how his eyes are darker, how his lips part.
I can barely hear it, but his breath starts to quiver as he takes in shaky inhales.
Our eyes are locked—both of us are waiting.
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly puts his hand on mine and presses it into his chest.
It’s enough.
I crash my lips into his.
He doesn’t even consider hesitating before he’s kissing me back heavy.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he grabs me by my hips with aggression, moving his lips in perfect tandem with mine.
His kiss is rough. Dripping with lust and need. He backs me into a gore covered pillar—making me groan desperately. My back arches into him as I moan into his mouth. He growls and tightens his grip on me in response.
He pulls the small of my back into him so that our bloody bodies are as pressed together as they can be.
He needs me.
Desperately, he pulls my tunic so that it’s bunched up right below my breasts. He slips his hand into my undergarments, all the while never letting his lips escape mine.
I shutter at the feeling.
“Fuck you’re wet,” he mumbles into my lips as his fingers start to massage my heat. His words are met with a moan as I buck my hips lightly as a means to get more friction.
I’m so turned on that any and every touch is extremely stimulating. Everything Telemachus does to me sends a chill down my spine.
He plays with my clit, trailing his fingers up and down, teasing me with such a slow pace.
I whimper, needing more.
His response is to sharply push me further into the cold pillar to get a better angle. He teases a fingertip into my entrance. Before the frustrated groan could even pass my lips, he shoves two fingers inside me.
“Fu—Fuck!” I cry out.
He buries them deep, twisting and turning roughly, his actions determined to please me. His face is in my neck, leaving wet kisses and love bites.
I squeal in pleasure as he hits my g-spot. His fingers glide in and out of me, pushing in and up, causing the pressure to build.
He presses into my body more, begging to get closer and feel every inch of my soft skin. I shove him off me and grab his tunic before I tear it off. Leaving only his undergarments on him.
“Take this shit off of me,” I demand.
His smile is borderline sinister as he heeds my words. Gods I’ve never seen him this way, it’s so strange… but damned if it doesn't do something terrible to me.
Both of us make quick work of our clothes. Telemachus grabs me with possession as he picks me up and carries me to Antinous’s body.
He lays me down across the man and forces his lips onto mine in a sloppy, hard kiss.
He rips off the last of my small clothes.
Telemachus throws aside his undergarments as well in one fluid motion. I finally get to see him for the first time…
And by the gods…
He’s huge.
In my daydreams of him, he definitely had some length to him… but gods, I didn’t expect that kind of girth.
The way he’s looking at me…
He’s needy… so, so needy.
With my permission, he’d lined himself up now. I bite my lip wondering if I should say anything…
“Do you want this?” He asks, trying to hide the urgency in his voice so I don’t feel any pressure to say yes.
“Tel,” I start breathlessly, “Do you remember that conversation we had about our sex lives…?”
It had been a conversation from maybe a year ago, I forget how it came up. But I do remember how shy he got about it.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he smiles sheepishly, his demeanor faltering.
I whimper at the feeling of him still being so close to fucking me. My body is hardly able to take my arousal,
“…I’m still a virgin.”
He stops for a moment, then his eyes soften.
He’s glad that I’ve taken him as the one to give my innocence to… He’s happy that we get to figure this out together—He’d always hoped his first time would be with me.
“I am too…” he admits a bit embarrassed.
“In all honesty…I was holding out for you… You think there wasn’t a reason I never took my mother’s options for me seriously?” He rests his forehead on mine,
“She’s not the only one who’s good at stalling~”
He says, moving to kiss my neck gently.
I take my hand to where I know he wants it the most and stroke him slowly. I feel him shutter against me.
“You’re a problem,” I chuckle.
“You make me want you too badly.”
Telemachus removes himself from the crook of my neck to look into my eyes.
“Would you like me to stop teasing?”
“Absolutely. But—can we start out slower? Just until I can adjust?”
He places a kiss on my forehead,
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. The last thing I want is to hurt you.” He reassures me and places a single kiss on my lips.
“We can stop entirely if it’s too much.”
“Fuck no– I can take you. I don’t care how long we need to make it happen,” I say, extremely determined.
His expression is soft–which is a stark contrast to our surroundings. One of the hands he’s propped up on is in a pool of Antinous’ blood.
He nods, knowing I’m too stubborn to not try.
He crawls over my body, falling back into the disposition he’d set aside previously. His eyes take in my body like a predator.
For a few strokes, he teases my pussy. Tracing my clit. He wants to make me as wet as possible for a painless entry.
He eases the tip in ever-so-slowly—studying my face for signs of discomfort—so far so good.
My face is flushed and my body is aching. He can see it…he knows I need it.
He pushes in with an inch or two.
I can’t hide my wince as much as I’d like to.
He carefully pushes in another inch. Even with how wet I am, a hiss of pain escapes me.
He stills.
“Hey, hey… look at me,” he whispers, his eyes are more nurturing.
In tracing his thumb on my cheek, he accidentally smears some blood on the spot—he ignores it though as I don’t seem to care.
“I’m gonna play with you a little, see if we can’t get you a little more ready for me, yeah?” He offers with a comforting smile.
I nuzzle my face into his shoulder.
“Please…I want to keep going…”
Switching to his clean hand, he applies light pressure to my clit, rubbing circles with intention on the right spot he’d found effortlessly somehow.
He does this for a while, listening to my whimpers and moans for clues on how he should touch me.
I’m well wet now.
He looks at me to ask if it’s okay.
I respond by putting my hands around his neck as a brace.
He carefully attempts a few inches again. It’s quite a bit easier—But I’m still tensed in anticipation and he realizes this. He kisses me and plays with me to loosen the pressure.
He leans in into my ear, “You’re doing so well~”
I smile, still squirming a little bit as he pulls back and pushes maybe three more inches in. I kiss him and hold him tight; then there’s more pain.
“Breathe, love….” He strokes my hair reassuringly.
He eases another inch or two in and feels my body seize.
“Do you want to stop?” He asks with clear concern.
“NO!” I say quickly, giving him no time to argue.
He knows it hurts…He considers the options…
“Maybe you just need to be more lubricated…” Telemachus trails off.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BLOOD KINK stop reading here if it’s too freaky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He takes his hand to the still weeping hole in Antinous’ neck. He holds up two fingers coated in the liquid in front of his face, observing the consistency. He looks at me expectantly.
I stare at his fingers with wide eyes.
He spoons some more into his hand and coats his cock in it—applying some to my pussy— fingering its way inside me and making me groan and shiver.
Under his watchful eyes, my body relaxes, responding well to his touch.
He fingers me with care, getting rougher when he can tell it’s what I want. Once he has 4 fingers deep inside, he knows I’m ready.
“Are you—?”
I nod, eyes fluttered shut,
“Please~”
He gets the first two inches in with ease, no painful reaction from me. In fact, by the way I’m clenching around his dick, he knows I really don’t mind.
He smiles contentedly. He sees the way I’ve begun bucking my hips in a trance of need, clearly the pain has been replaced with full on desire now. He watches as I allow most of his length. “You’re almost full—Do you want me all the way in?”
“Yesss~” I breathe, there’s no pain anymore; pleasure is all I know.
He beams at me, then pulls back, and enters me fully until he hits a wall.
Again he pulls back—almost all the way out before pushing his cock inside of me as far as possible. I moan at the feeling of having my tight pussy filled so completely.
“You like that don’t you?” Telemachus grins,
I bite my lips and close my eyes.
He realizes he can move a little faster. His confidence increases as my continued groans of pleasure escape me.
He growls in my ear with a Cheshire smile,
“You like using all that blood to get yourself nice and wet so you can be stuffed properly?”
His thrusts are growing to be especially hard, knowing I can take it rough.
All I can do is moan in response to his filthy words.
He nips at my ear, breath making me quiver,
“Love feeling me up in your guts?”
“If you don’t fuck me harder I swear to Zeus—~“
He immediately gives me what I want and begins slamming into my body violently.
He pulls out and flips me around, pushing me so that my face is down and my ass is up. He grabs my hips like they’re handles and pulls me into him harshly, exchanging his prior grip for one that pulls my hair. My head is forced up while my back has no choice but to arch against him.
I realize that I’m dripping down my thighs.
He fucks me brutally.
My eyes roll back in ecstasy and I pull myself so my weight is on my hands—which are on either side of the Antinous—making me curve into Telemachus’s chest. He pulls my hair harder so I’m even more bent into him, he leans into my ear and whispers,
“Come on…come on…~”
I growl and nuzzle my face into his from where he’s hunched over and pounding me harder.
My moans turn into pants and huffs,
I make my hips meet his with every move.
“Take it like a good girl~ that’s it~”
He fucks me until I’m completely ruined—my hair is disheveled and my sounds are coming out more primal than anything human—he’s ramming into my cervix.
He grips my chin in his blood stained hand. By now he’s left so many bloody fingerprints on me you can almost see every single spot he’s laid his hands.
“Mmpfh~!!”
My moans have turned into cries with his ruthless pace. The entire hall echoes with the sound of his body hitting mine. My cries and his grunts join in the symphony.
Holy shit that alone has me on the edge.
“Telemachus—fuck—“
“Come on sweetheart~ come on~” He feels himself getting close but he’s determined to make me to cum first.
His movements have to have some sort of divine influence because there’s no way in hades that he can keep going harder and harder like this. I’m just about at my breaking point.
Then I feel his warm breath against my ear.
“Cum for me, love~”
That last word does me in.
I fall apart almost instantaneously, feeling ecstasy I’ve never imagined possible.
I tighten around him and cry out as my orgasm takes a hold of me.
That was all it took for his to hit him.
He pulls out just in time to turn me on my back cum on my quivering stomach.
The warmth of it only adds to the rippling pleasure that’s overtaken me. My moans turn into whimpers as my energy depletes.
Telemachus lays down next to me, not letting his embrace with me fail. We stay like that for a moment, exhausted and satisfied. He turns his head to look at me, still trying to catch his breath, his grin spans his rosey cheeks.
“You seemed to really enjoy that~”
I hardly try to contain my laughter,
“Shut up~” I say as he presses a soft kiss to my mouth
Work rating: Explicit Chapter rating: yall all good
<<<<Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you are childhood best friends navigating life with the suitors.
Both of you discover your sick fantasies of killing the suitors and uhhh *reveling in it* while covered in blood are shared.
However, you hardly have time to process this fact before a unfathomable storm reaches the coast of Ithaca... wait is that man on fucking raft fighting the god of the sea? Hello??
Anyway they fuck on Antinous' corpse.
!!THERE WILL BE ODY X PENELOPE REUNION SMUT!!
Originally on my ao3. I update on there faster>>>>
CHAPTER 2: REALIZATION
Inside my small home, jars of herbs and spices are illuminated but the light outside. The setting sun casts a golden glow through the windows. I admire the warmth of it for a moment before laying down on my bed.
“You tired?” Telemachus asks from where he’s sitting next to me.
I turn my head so I can look up at him, “Yeah, long day in the vineyard, nothing too bad…”
I hesitate, my face contorted with annoyance,
“…though I do get the feeling someone may have snuck in and taken some heaping baskets of the grapes.” I grit my teeth. “Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of antinous’ little friends. Those weasels have been branching out lately.”
His brows furrow, “Somehow that wouldn’t surprise me.” He runs his hand into his hair holding it there.
“Gods, they’re getting worse every day, it’s not even just the palace they’re ransacking. They’re beginning to run this side of the kingdom as if they’ve already claimed my father’s crown, the entitled fucks…”
He grows more and more pissed off with every word. He pauses for a moment recall all the shit they’ve been giving him.
“You what Antinous told me today? He held my face in the mud— but not for long though you should’ve seen the move I pulled to get up and strike him—“ his eyes glint with passion and pride, before he falters back to what he was saying,
“…yeah... But anyways— He had the audacity to tell me the second ‘he becomes king’ he’ll see to it that I’m killed,” he scoffs, “As if that’ll ever happen.” He says teetering on seething now.
I think about my response for a moment, trying to find the right words to keep him from (in true Telemachus fashion) working himself up too much. I settle for a joke—well, a half joke.
“Why don’t we just killed them??”
“Gods How I’d love to!” he chuckles, laying down beside me.
“No but realy imagine it for a second. How cathartic it’d be to just…paint the palace red and stand over all the dead suitors' bodies?”
There’s a moment of silence where I worry I may have suggested maybe just a little too imagery for sweet boy, gods bless him. Then he turns to lay on his side to look at me,
“Zeus Lyra that’s one way to start a conversation!” he laughs.
I chuckle a bit relieved.
“No but— is it so wrong to think about…? With the way they talk about your mother? And the female servants of the castle? And the threats they’ve made; the things they’ve already done to YOU? To me justified is an understatement.”
I think about all the fantasies I’ve had, some a bit more uh… *provocative* than others…
“…I’ve definitely thought about it more than once…” Telemachus admits, with a hint of guilt and…. something else hidden in his voice.
“Good. Because I definitely have.” I say matter of factly.
He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“you think I haven’t?” I smile widely, “you underestimate me, Little Wolf”
He’s fully invested now.
“Well don’t leave me hanging! What exactly happens in these fantasies of yours?”
Hmmmm.. a very interesting question… I know my thoughts may be gruesome and detailed but gods know those sick fucks deserve it. I’ve patched far too many wounds and heard too many sinister whispers to not wonder how amazing it’d feel to put an end to it all.
“Well, the main feature is you and I standing in the great hall, strewn with bodies, leaving Antinous for last, and giving him the worse fate of the lot.”
His ears perk up, excitement in his voice,
“Yeah? Like how?”
“Hehe first you gotta tell me yours~”
“That’s not fucking fair, you started a thought you should finish it!”
“And I will! Once you tell me yours!”
He rolls his eyes playfully and looks up at the ceiling, letting the hypotheticals play out.
“I imagine pretty much the same thing, but the daydreams change sometimes for which one of us deals the final blow on that bastard.”
“Yeah?” I say with eyebrows shooting up
“How do we do it?”
A smile tugs at his lips for a moment as he indulges himself in the idea, “Well, sometimes it’s as simple as you holding him down while I drive a sword through his chest… other times it’s you bringing down an axe to his neck while he’s been knocked down”
My eyes widen slightly at the thought. I definitely don’t hate it….
“Hold shit I’d exude aura!” I burst out laughing.
He chuckles, returning my amusement,
“You covered in the blood of our enemies while you stand over that bastard would be fucking AMAZING.”
“You think so?” I say laying back on the bed and smiling at the ceiling.
“You’d look incredible, like a goddamn bloodied goddess of war” he chuckles almost to himself.
I note the undertone of the comment but push it aside—there’s a brief silence before he breaks it,
“Okay now yours, spill.”
I laugh softly,
“I fear we’ve managed to just about match each other on this one…. You want details?”
“Lyra. DUH.”
“Shut the fuck up nerd!” I punch his arm, he feigns looking like a hurt puppy.
“Well… one by one we take them out, baiting them to different parts of the castle, in groups or individually until we dwindle their numbers in the great hall. Then we lock the doors and strike with some kind of impossible strength and divine protection… carving a path until Antinous is the last one standing. And of course like you said, it switches up who takes the final blow; gods is it a sight for sore eyes… At the end of it we’d stand over the bodies, heavy breathing and covered in blood and just…”
…I bite my tongue and cut the fantasy short.
“—Revel in it.” I finish.
“Heh. I can almost see it… I’d feel like a god and you’d look fucking amazing covered in blood.”
I look at him from the side. That’s two strikes now. I wonder if he’s trying to allude to something…
“Yeah?” I ask with a quirked eyebrow.
“Yeah…—”
Just then, my mothers soft steps enter the house, Interrupting my train of thought.
“Mom!” I say sitting up, followed by Telemachus.
“Where've you been? It’s dark out—”
My mother gives me a playful look, “I visited the market if you must concern yourself~ Hello, Telemachus” she greets him patting his arm and letting down a basket of food.
“Mother!” He greets my mom, beaming. With how long he’s known us and with the amount of time he’s spent in our home over the years, she’s basically a second mother to him. And she cares for him as if he’s the son she never had.
“Shall I make a place for you at the table?”
He grins widely. My mother puts such care into anything she makes. It’s a million times better than what the cooks back at the palace make, and he’d take home cooked over anything else. Any day.
“If you don’t mind— I’ve definitely missed dinner back at home…” he says knowing he’d lost track of time, but he knows Penelope will know where he’s run off to.
“You know you’re always welcome at our table~” She return his smile, “I’m going to tend to the garden, I’ll be back shortly.” My mother leaves us alone to go gather herbs and care for the plants outside. The many shades of greens leaves and colored flowers await her.
“What were we saying?” He asks crossing his legs so he faces me where he sits on the bed.
“I don’t remember…”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHORS NOTE: what the fuck is up with this clunky ass funky ass editing on here 💀 I can’t select shit and if I press enter half the time it deletes everything wtf diva
NEXT CHAPTER HAS SMUT✨✨✨ it’ll be less thorough and carved out + also way less long as compared to the real smutty shit I’ll get into. BUT it’s still good shit~ All those chapters will have warnings at the beginning!
Overall story tropes: Telemachus x reader/oc, slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut/PWP,
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1:
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
The suitors grow impatient at Penelope’s challenge.
No one has even gotten the chance to loose an arrow.
They aren’t strong enough to curve the bow backward and get anywhere near stringing it.
It’s getting late, well into the night. It’s a dark, moonless one. Torches light the way of the halls.
Antinous is enraged. Not even the strongest men have mustered the power to come close to accomplishing the endeavor.
Finally, the time has come to try his hand. He’s cocky.
The anger has subsided once he’s calmed himself by reviewing the facts:
He knows he’s leagues above these men.
Everyone before him was merely too weak. Too void of resolve.
But not Antinous.
Convinced of his preconceived win,
He plucks the bow. It’s curved in the opposite direction that it would need to be in order to be strung. It’s a hard pull.
He tries to use the corners of the walls as an anchor; and even greases it. Nothing.
“This shit is rigged!”
He throws the weapon down, running a hand through his sweat-ridden hair.
“Screw this. It’s time we stop sitting around and take matters into our own hands. What are we to do, let the crown play us any longer? I say we strike now!”
The suitors cheer in agreement, knocking mugs of ale against one another’s.
They’ve been held back far too long. Now is their time
Ares shakes his in disgust at we observe.
My breath hitches and I feel Telemachus’s hand rest on the handle of his sword as we anticipate a coup.
I speak up,
“I’ll ensure Penelope’s safety and find you afterward.” I assert as I white knuckle my weapon.
We have to act fast.
“Agreed.” He says steadfastly.
With that, Ares and I embark on our journey to Telemachus’s mother’s chambers, sneaking quickly along the walls and into the long hallways.
“Now is not the time for hesitation. Put on that helmet.” Athena says telepathically as she fades behind Telemachus, readying him into a state of quick-thought.
“Understood.” Telemachus grits.
As Telemachus starts to devise his strategy, Athena stops him, pausing his thoughts. He looks at her questioningly, then follows her gaze.
Their weapons are missing. The suitors were too busy drinking and moping to see it.
Not only that,
A beggar has emerged from behind the crowd of men. He’s cut to the front of the line where the bow lays.
The old man is rough and weak with age from the looks of him. Grimy and wrinkled.
The suitors process his appearance and laugh.
“What kind of wasted are you, old man?” Antinous laughs.
“You think you have the gull to play us? Should I be offended?”
Wordlessly, the old man picks up the bow. Stringing it effortlessly.
He aims as if honing the bow is second nature.
Immediately he lets the arrow loose.
It’s a clean shot. All the way through.
The suitors are shocked. Out of everyone, an old man can do the impossible?
…No…
“It’s the old king…It’s Odysseus!!”
Antinous bellows.
The realization hits Telemachus like a ton of bricks.
In an instant, Odysseus turns around and lets another arrow fly.
*THWAP *
Antinous falls dead, an arrow shot clean through his throat.
Odysseus’s disguise recedes and his voice comes out thunderous, echoing in the stunned silence.
“Twenty years,” He starts.
“TWENTY. Years. And this is what I’ve come home to?” He stands tall, voice booming.
“A defiled palace and sad excuses for men filling my halls?”
He looks across the room, barrels overturned. Tables ajar. Ale spills and empty mugs strewn about.
Then he looks at the pitiful men. Arrogant. Loud. Devilish.
“Don’t think I haven’t heard your words and whispers,”
He speaks from beneath a hood, eyes deadly.
“You wished to kill my son? To rape my wife?”
The chuckle he lets out is enough to freeze blood.
“ I. Have had. Enough.”
He takes off without another word.
Moving with ungodly speed, he knocks out the torches in the room, effectively leaving everyone in the dark. Some frantically flee for the gate— these are the men who know what kind of threat they’re up against.
It’s locked.
Terrified, they scatter, threading their way through the halls. Most of them chase the likes of those who are already after Odysseus—who has a head start killing the remaining lights of the palace.
Telemachus—still in shock—leaps into action. He sprints toward the halls, determined to ensure that the men don’t reach his mother and Lyra.
~~~~~
Even though Penelope is safeguarded by the sentries with her door locked, the men come running with lit torches. If they can turn Her Majesty into a hostage, surely they can win.
A few fight their way past the guards, letting the others pass while beating the sentries to the floor.
Amidst this, Alekos manages himself well. He surprises both me and himself with how naturally he takes to a sword. Despite this fact, a handful of men slip by.
The suitors come to a halt in front of me.
There’s fleeting laughter from multiple men,
“They chose a girl to protect The Queen? Is this a joke?” They scoff with smirks on their stupid faces.
I smile widely—eyes reddening as Ares’s power surges through me. I correct my stance and ready my sword wordlessly.
With no inhabitants, I carve through suitor after suitor. Defenseless, they make futile efforts to retreat.
Much to The God of War’s approval, I strike most of the men in places where they’ll bleed out the most. It’s effective.
And merciless.
Bodies drop as I charge into them with both graceful and brutish tactics.
I don’t even need to make harsh cuts. Half the time it only takes a precise swing through the stomach to spill a man’s guts.
I take pleasure in their screams as they realize their fates.
I can feel that Ares relishes this too.
I keep my attacks fervent.
“I must say, you’re not too terrible.” He mutters gruffly.
Overall story tropes: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual and occasional smut/PWP, fluff
Story Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1
The Blood We Shed
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telema
Athena guides Telemachus in the darkness, allowing him the vision to see through the blackened hallways that Odysseus had already breached.
There are only a few stray men still running. They knock themselves into the corners of the winding walls in their haste—only to be met by the prince’s blade.
In the distance, he hears cries of pain. Spurred on by gripping fear, he burns a path through the halls.
Thank the gods.
As he gets closer, relief washes over him as he realizes the screams don’t belong to his mother nor Lyra.
He carries out attacks skillfully through the hallway, taking down any man he crosses. He’s about to skewer another, but a blade from behind beats him to it.
The suitor drops to the ground.
“ You’re safe,” Telemachus breathes.
“You expect less of me?” I smirk, flicking the waste off my sword.
“Mother’s okay?” He asks more seriously.
I confirm,
“Of course. Her gate is locked and well-guarded. The men are done for.”
Telemachus gives me a reflective gesture and sees Alekos a ways back behind me. He nods to him in acknowledgement, signaling for him to hold his post.
“My father’s back. He’s here,” Telemachus says with resolution.
He grabs my hand.
“Come on.”
Together we weave through the trail of bodies we’ve slain, making our way from room to room.
Every single one is locked.
Any remaining suitors fall dead at our feet.
We find direction by way of choked screams in the distance.
There they are.
We came to realize that the weapons room was left unlocked.
This was no accident.
Odysseus knew this would be a means to lure them in.
He planned to bait them by leaving their weapons in the unsupervised room— allowing them to think they’d stand a chance.
Once the first man found the arsenal, he knew the rest would follow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Telemachus and I fly through the entrance to the room—Slicing necks and severing arteries and limbs.
The scene we walk into is a ruthless one.
Odysseus brutally murders men at a terrifying rate.
Our foes and their appendages decorate the marbled floor. You’d never know it was white.
Arrows have been shot in numerous vital areas of the body, killing the victims after what were likely fleeting moments of excruciating pain. He is cruel, yet efficient.
He’s so light on his feet he’s practically weightless.
He shoots with sadistic accuracy, through heads, into eye sockets, and even through the hanging mouths of the assailants.
Seamlessly, he switches between sword and bow, favoring the latter. When he’s not single-shooting them, he carves the men like a butcher does a pig, a fitting punishment.
Telemachus and I tear ourselves away from the spectacle… we don’t have time to gawk.
We decide covering more ground by splitting up in the giant room is the best idea.
With the weapons at the suitors’ disposal, our efforts are slowed–and more challenged. Make no mistake though, this doesn’t mean we fold under the pressure.
In Telemachus’s corner, the men have decided he’s their means to victory. A large group of them surround him, calling to one another,
“GET THE PRINCE!” Someone grabs him before Telemachus slices his arm off and yells,
“STOP THIS! YOU CAN STILL WALK IF YOU YIELD!”
The suitors ignore his offer,
“HOLD HIM DOWN! HES OUTNUMBERED!”
“DON'T MAKE ME DO THIS” he exclaims.
One gets him in a chokehold.
Athena directs him in a flash.
He escapes and cleaves the man’s carotid.
He continues to stay impressively strong as strikes hurdle his way—multiple men grab at him.
Staving them off becomes harder and harder. Telemachus falters; one slip-up was all it took.
A dozen hands take him to the ground.
~~~~~~~
By now, red has stained my skin and chiton—which has lost its himation in the fight.
Ares keeps my breathing consistent and my stamina high.
His quick-thought makes it so much easier to strategize.
I realize how grateful I am to him for his aid.
However, the thought is interrupted.
I become aware that the suitors nearby are turning to run the other way… but they aren’t retreating.
I see them funneling toward Telemachus—he’s knocked down. They’ve seized their opportunity.
Fuck
I beeline to him, fatally—or damn near fatally—cutting everyone in my path, dodging blows. I slide between the legs of men, lacerating them as I go. My sword clangs with blocked attacks as I move.
In my absence, the bastards wrestle Telemachus to his knees. They twist his arms behind his back, forcing him to cry out sharply.
“Got you ~”
“DON’T!”
He shouts.
The suitor holding his arms twists them further.
The prince gasps loudly in pain.
Another gets behind him.
“Let’s make him suffer..” the pig says with a skin-crawling smile.
The man raises his blade above the boy’s held wrists—
*ACK—*
He coughs blood, eyes turning cold already.
Telemachus’s eyes widen as he looks down at the man’s chest. Through it is the end of a sword, just about as far as it can go.
“Mer-mer…”
Musters the man as he falls to his knees—revealing Odysseus to be his killer.
“ Mercy ?” He says with humorful anger.
“MERCY?”
The suitors flee in every direction trying to escape. Many flock to the gate.
Once more, the door is locked.
Odysseus smiles darkly, exchanging his sword for his bow.
“You’ve no chance at mercy— ”
One by one, he picks them off. His eyes gleam, enthralled by every dropping body.
He notches arrow after arrow.
“—And I’m going to enjoy watching the light die from every.”
*thwap*
”Last.”
*thwap*
“One of you.”
A petrifying smile breaks on The Old King’s face. He cackles loud enough that everyone still alive in the room can hear it.
He turns men to corpses in seconds, ruthlessly stomping them out.
He takes two decades worth of anger out on the remaining men. Shanking some with arrows and stabbing them repeatedly as the blood spurts onto his face.
I‘ve sprinted to where Telemachus is sitting dumbfounded.
Chapter warning: Brief mentions of plans of rape (as in the cannon)
Tropes: Telamchus x reader/oc Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut and fluff, eventual bloody smut hehe~
Chapter synopsis:
Story synopsis: Find here in Chapter 1 ⬇️⬇️⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
Meanwhile, the mob has become violent; the sentries are outnumbered. A few of the suitors have already torn a couple down, urging the other men to follow suit.
“SILENCE.” Penelope commands, to no avail this time.
She tries again, raising her voice,
“VERY WELL--I SHALL CHOOSE A KING… TODAY.”
This time, her words reach.
The suitors contemplate… then comply.
Sated with her submission, the men pause their brawl.
“I have prepared a challenge,”
Penelope is composed, despite what’s unfolding in front of her.
“Whoever can string my husband's bow—shooting an arrow through 12 axe heads—will take the crown.”
The men look hesitant.
They don’t want another setback.
However, a realization strikes them simultaneously.
They can’t all be king. Once they overtake Penelope, what then?
Without determining which man would be crowned, it’d end in piles of bodies.
She takes their silence as an answer.
“Very well. I’ll have the servants set everything up. While they do, choose who amongst yourselves will go first.”
Penelope says as she is escorted away by the guards and Alekos.
~~~~~~~
In a moment, I sneak back to Telemachus’s side.
He breaks his stare at the mob to make sure I get to him safely.
“What did Alekos tell you?”
The angry pit in my stomach grows heavy again,
“They’re planning to murder you… and—rape your mother, at any moment. They won't be distracted long.”
He’s silent, but I can read the unadulterated anger burning in his eyes. So much of it floods him that he can’t speak. The crease in between his eyebrows deepens.
“He wants me to flee the palace when things get too dangerous. I appreciate his concerns; but I’m not doing that.”
He stills for a second, considering sternly.
“Lyra, I know you’re a challenging opponent, but some of these monsters are big men—“
I cross my arms at his resistance,
“You say this as if you haven’t challenged the likes of them before.”
He knows that he has, he does. But he also knows our one-on-one training is not on the same level as cutting through 108 men at once.
“And I admit to that, but this. Is. Deadly. DEADLY deadly. If I die protecting my mother that’s how I want to go. That’s my personal conviction—“
“Telemachus.” I interrupt.
“If not for my queen and my dearest friend, what is truly worth fighting for?”
“You can stay alive for your mother.” He states strictly.
That shakes my resolve a little bit,
She’d already lost one loved one, I don’t know if she could handle another…
“Then we have no choice but to win.”
“Lyra…— ”
He pleads with me.
“We’ll be wise about this. We need to find a way to separate them so we half their chances.”
He shakes his head and takes my hand to try to let me feel how strong his stance is on this.
“I’m serious, Lyra. It’s fucking dangerous—”
“Telemachus you can’t stop me. My mind is made up.”
He drops my hand and crosses his arms, growing frustrated.
“I’m telling you you can’t stay here”
“Yes, I can. And I WILL.”
“NO, you won’t! I’m not going to fucking lose you, Lyra!”
My irritation fails with the emotion in his tone as he stifles a shout—I’m taken aback. I’ve never see him so serious.
“Please…”
His voice cracks.
“…Telemachus… I don’t know how to convince you.” I say quietly,
“Ithaca needs its prince and queen alive. Do you want the suitors to overtake the kingdom?” My expression is softer but more serious,
“…I can’t lose you. And refuse to. I’d rather die by your side than have you be killed and have to say I did nothing to stop it.”
I say finding my own voice breaking.
He stares at me with eyes filled with defeat.
“…I can’t convince you, can I?”
“No. You can’t.”
“—I hate to interrupt,”
Startled, we find Athena in our midst. We were too involved in our argument to see that the goddess had materialized.
She’s got to stop making surprise entrences like this
“I’ve never had to call in this many favors…” she pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly not enjoying her newfound debt to the gods she’s had to petition.
From behind her, Ares appears.
“I was promised bloodshed. Decided I wouldn’t mind getting a front-row seat.” He says with a hearty chuckle,
“Wasn’t a hard pitch to make.” He scoffs.
“The odds are in our favor.”
I see Telemachus has brightened up a bit, seemingly decided, but still cautious. I grin from ear to ear.
Chapter synopsis: Takes place during “Odysseus”. Ody is on his way to kill the leaches that have overtaken his palace, Telemachus and you are trying desperately to devise a plan in the meantime.
Story Tropes: Telamchus x reader/oc Slow burn, best friends to lovers, eventual smut and fluff, eventual bloody smut hehe~
Synopsis: Found here in chapter 1⬇️
Telemachus x reader/you (first person pov)
Type: Slow burn, best friends to lovers, smut, blood as lube
Synopsis: Telemarket and Lyra/you
Still donning our sparring armor as we arrive at the palace, we’re greeted by 108 men all shouting at once.
The guards have barred the platform of the throne where Penelope stands.
“WE DEMAND YOU CHOOSE A KING, NOW!”
One angry man spits,
“CHOOSE!”
“IF YOU DON'T WE’LL TAKE THE THRONE FOR OURSELVES—“
“ENOUGH.”
Penelope snaps—totally outside of her typical graceful demeanor. Her booming voice bounces off the walls of the atrium.
A silence falls on the crowd.
She clears her throat, returning to her usual disposition.
“Now that I finally have your attention,”
The Queen continues, attempting to keep the mob at bay with her commanding tone,
“Tomorrow I’ll prepare a challenge for my hand. By the end of the day, one of you shall take your place on the throne as the King of Ithaca.” She decrees void of any readable emotion in her diction.
“WE WON'T WAIT!” One of the suitors calls out, beginning to rally the crowd again.
Antinous stands with the men at the front; a glint in his eye as he finds The Queen’s gaze.
“If you don’t choose a man, we’ll take exactly what we want from you…”
His threat stands out from the shouts of the others.
Penelope merely smiles at him.
She’s not scared.
She’s pissed.
While we watch intently, I’m situated beside Telemachus at the edge of the crowd. I awkwardly hold my hands clasped in front of my body.
Currently, I’m trying to focus on what Penelope is saying and not on the tension of being pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with Telemachus. I stare straight ahead. My thoughts and my stomach are twisting with all kinds of feelings.
Let's see how many I can name:
One. Fear. Fear for Penelope’s safety and Telemachus’s; and for the fight we’re anticipating.
Two. Anxiety; and impatience. He and I haven’t concluded our little conversation after Poseidon’s interruption. There’s so much I want to say... But the time is far from right.
Three. I’m enraged at the suitors. No. Rage is too kind. I’m just about ready to drive my blade into the back of any given man in an instant. And honestly? I can’t wait to.
Four. Grief.
I find myself grieving my father for a second time.
I’m also anxious for Telemachus and his reunion with his own kin. I pray that Odysseus is everything that he’s imagined. But.. at the same time… I’ve had no father return to me today. Not even in an urn.
For that, I feel a fifth thing.
Jealousy.
I’m fighting the urge to look at Telemachus and try to read his mind.
The air around us is so tangibly tense you could cut it with a knife. There’s a shared understanding that our feelings are not a priority right now… even while the effects of his confession have an iron grip on us.
I do notice something out of the corner of my eye though.
Next to me, Telemachus is clenching and unclenching his fist.
It’s a nervous tic I’ve taken notice of ages ago. His whole body is ridged.
He’s violently aware that the suitors are at their breaking point.—
But so are we.
Penelope is trying to buy more time and I know it. All three of us do. And damned if we don’t need it to devise a plan.
We’re incredibly outnumbered by 108 power-hungry men, many of whom are pushing twice my size.
I don’t like these odds.
On a far wall, I notice our friend Alekos.
He's been trying to catch my eye; he subtly gestures for me to come to him
I look to see if Telemachus has noticed. He hasn’t.
His vision is narrowed, skimming every move of the suitors with keen eyes.
I gently tap his hand; he snaps out of it.
I tilt my head toward Alekos.
He looks at me and then the men, then back at me.
“Go,” he whispers with understanding. He’s holding his post.
I nod, slipping quietly along the outskirts of the crowd.
I make my way to Alekos.
He silently greets me as I join him.
“They’re insatiable.” He mumbles, staring into the herd of suitors.
“That’s an understatement.” I hiss.
“I’ve heard what they’ve been planning,” he says, keeping a watchful eye on Telemachus and Penelope,
“They’re coordinating a detailed scheme to kill the Prince—“
My jaw tightens. I know of their threats, but now they have the means and proper motive to commit such a crime.
“And— they plan on taking The Queen.”
His words are quiet and bone-chilling as he speaks,
“They want to force an heir upon her… and attempt to defile the king’s wedding bed.”
“By the gods…”
I whisper,
“I shouldn’t have assumed any less…”
Alekos nods grimly,
“Odysseus can’t be far. And Queen Penelope has also devised a plan...”
He says with confidence; it then turns to grave concern.
“I’ve volunteered to take up a sword and join the sentries in The Majesties' protection. However… when things go wrong, we need to get you out as quickly as possible.”
I shake my head, arms crossed watching the scene in front of me.
“I’m not leaving. All we need to do is stall just a little longer.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile,
Odysseus works his way through the back end of the village, chasing the distant palace. His hair is a long, mangy mess, and his beard is overgrown. The calloused man is still sopping wet, disheveled, and determined.
That’s exactly how Athena finds him.
“10 years is a long time, old friend, I hardly recognized you~”
His strides falter as she smiles down, floating beside him. The Divine hadn’t aged a day.
“Athena?”
“Odysseus~”
He's stunned for a moment, however he's quick to remember his mission.
He focuses his pace on the palace again.
“I need to see Penelope.”
“That you do. But you can only stay in the shadows for so long. Let me lend you a hand…”
He raises an eyebrow in interest,
“What did you have in mind?”
Athena hums.
“Hold still, just for a moment,” she says.
She grants him an elaborate disguise, exchanging his clothes for more ragged and plain robes; aging his skin, lengthening his bread.
It’s unsuspecting, he’ll be able to slip by easily.
“We have much to catch up on. Go. Get to your wife and son.”
