SNITCHED, SMOOCHED, AND SCREWED
(Neoptolemus x Telemachus x Pisistratus)
Ithaca had seen many things in its time—wars, storms, Odysseus' dramatic return—but nothing could have prepared it for the absolute circus that was about to unfold in the royal halls.
Odysseus, ever the dutiful father (if you ignored the twenty-year absence), had made it his latest quest to find his son, Telemachus, a proper wife. After all, a prince needed an heir, a future, a—whatever, Odysseus just wanted grandkids at this point.
Which was why there was an entirely unnecessary royal banquet happening, featuring an impressive lineup of eligible noblewomen, ranging from demure maidens to politically advantageous brides.
Yet Telemachus was nowhere to be found.
And that’s where the trouble began.
Diomedes, the ever-handsome and ever-opportunistic King of Argos, arrived unannounced at the Ithacan palace with one goal in mind: flirt shamelessly with Odysseus.
Penelope, Ithaca’s long-suffering queen, merely sipped her wine and gave him a knowing smirk when he greeted her. She knew exactly why he was here. She always did.
"Diomedes," she said smoothly, tipping her cup in greeting. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Just passing through," Diomedes lied, flashing her his most charming smile. "Thought I'd check on an old friend."
"You mean you thought you'd check if my husband was still attractive after twenty years of sea trauma," Penelope corrected.
Diomedes cleared his throat. "That too."
"Well, he's in the hall, desperately trying to find our son a wife."
Diomedes perked up. "Telemachus? A wife?*" He snorted. "Oh, you mean the same Telemachus I saw last week half-naked and swapping spit with two princes in Pylos?"
The servants froze mid-step.
The air stiffened with an unholy tension.
"I'M SORRY, HE WAS WHAT?!"
The walls shook as Odysseus' voice boomed through the hall.
Diomedes, chaos incarnate, simply grinned. "Oh? You didn’t know?"
Meanwhile, in Pylos (or, How to Ruin a Political Marriage)
Telemachus, young prince of Ithaca, was indeed not looking for a wife.
He was, however, very busy.
At present, he was pressed against a pillar, with Pisistratus, the handsome and annoyingly charismatic Prince of Pylos, kissing down his throat while Neoptolemus, Prince of Epirus, was biting his lip and looking him over like a particularly tasty meal.
"I swear," Telemachus panted between kisses, "we are supposed to be here for diplomacy."
"I am being diplomatic," Pisistratus murmured against his skin. "I’m negotiating where I’m allowed to kiss you."
"Mm," Neoptolemus hummed, tilting Telemachus’ chin up. "I vote everywhere."
"I second that," Pisistratus said against his collarbone.
"Both of you need therapy," Telemachus gasped.
"We need you in our bedrolls," Neoptolemus corrected.
The three princes were entirely too occupied to realize they had company.
Because who else but Diomedes, the worst wingman in history, had stumbled upon this steamy royal make-out session?
And because he was Diomedes, he did the only logical thing.
Back to Ithaca (A.K.A. Telemachus’ Worst Day Ever)
Odysseus stormed into the palace, red-faced, seething, and very much ready to commit murder.
Penelope was still sipping her wine, entirely unbothered.
"My love," she said, "do not kill our son. I spent years keeping suitors away from this house only for you to come home and immediately commit filicide."
"TELEMACHUS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINDING A WIFE, NOT—NOT—" Odysseus waved his hands wildly. "FROLICKING WITH TWO PRINCES ON FOREIGN SOIL!"
Diomedes, seated comfortably nearby, grinned into his cup. "To be fair, they weren’t exactly frolicking. It was much less innocent than that."
Odysseus looked ready to explode.
And in walked Telemachus.
And behind him, two very smug-looking princes.
"Father," Telemachus greeted, clearing his throat. "I have returned."
"YOU HAVE RETURNED?!" Odysseus gawked at the sight before him. "WITH THEM?!"
Neoptolemus grinned. "Hey, old man. Nice place you got here."
Pisistratus bowed dramatically. "Lovely evening, King Odysseus. Heard you're trying to find a match for Telemachus. No need. We've already sorted that out."
Neoptolemus casually draped an arm over Telemachus' shoulder. "Yeah, you can stop the whole marriage search. He’s got two husbands already."
Pisistratus nodded sagely. "It’s a very efficient system, really. You get two sons-in-law instead of one."
Odysseus clutched his head, looking seconds away from throwing himself into the sea. "By the gods, I fought an entire war for this child—"
"And you did a great job, Father," Telemachus patted his arm reassuringly. "Thank you for your service."
Meanwhile, Penelope took a deep, content sip of her wine.
Diomedes, watching the entire debacle unfold, smirked at her. "You’re really not going to stop this?"
"Oh, absolutely not," Penelope said, entirely unbothered. "I knew the moment he left for Pylos that he’d come back with a boyfriend."
"I just didn’t expect him to bring two."
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