child-from-olympus

[child-from-olympus]

BLOOD OF ZEUS MENTIONED? AHAHAHAHAHAH WATCH IT PLEASE IM BEGGING!

-👑 anon

I'M ALREADY HALFWAY THROUGH SEASON 2!!!! HOLD ON TIGHT CHILDREN I'LL BE HOME SOON 🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵⛵

[child-from-olympus]

Maybe gonna start writing for the Greek Gods from the series "Blood of Zeus" and the Hades game 🙏 Still haven't watched BoZ fully but once me and my best friend are finished watching it together, I'll be spitting out one shot after one shot. ESPECIALLY for Apollo, Hermes and Dionysus. I NEED THEM CARNALLY

[child-from-olympus]

I PROMISE you all I'm halfway done with the next one shot of Telemachus I have on my drafts, I just gotta get some motivation to keep writing 💔

Meanwhile, I haven't had much ideas on what to specifically write! As you all know, I'm taking requests for one shots and suggestions of characters I could write for, so my empty inbox is WAAIITIIINGGGGGGGG... WAAAAAAIIIITIIIIIINGGGGGGGGGG for some to drop by!!! :D Please feel absolutely free to (emphasis on please)

Have a good day or good night, lovelies!!! 💛

[child-from-olympus]

Would you perhaps be open to writing for Hermes, Dionysus, or Ares? This isn’t a formal request but your pinned says you’re open to suggestions, so I wanted to check to see if any of them are on the table :) no pressure ofc!!

Thanks and I hope you have a wonderful day/night! 🩶

HIIII!! To answer your question, yes, I'm absolutely open to writing for Hermes, Dionysus and Ares! I've actually been thinking about writing a one shot for Dionysus based on The Bacchae, but I haven't had much ideas lately 🥀🥀🥀

Something else I'd like to add is that this is the first time I'm creating a blog and actively writing for it, so I'm still thinking about what I'm comfortable writing and what I'm not, that's why the "Characters I Write For..." list is empty, I'm still experimenting! But I'd absolutely love writing for the Greek Gods and I'm putting them on my list right now!

[child-from-olympus]

「 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐩 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐫 」

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pairing: Ganymede x GN!Reader One Shot !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rating: SFW !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Inspired by kupidachillea's Olympians x Reader

Once you left the banquet being held in the grand hall, everything seemed to grow into silence. Everything seemed to quiet down, even the overwhelming emotions that were clouding your mind and turning it into an ever spinning wheel of feelings.

When it all went back to beloved silence, you could only hear your footsteps as you walked further into the palace of Zeus.

You didn't have an idea of what you were doing. You could as well be found by one of the Gods, and then taken back to the boisterous room where the twelve Olympians were dining. Oh no, you didn't want that. Although they held honour and grace wherever mentioned down in Greece, you didn't take your presence in their domain as graceful. In fact, you wouldn't take your abduction to Olympus as a blessing at all. You didn't want to be here... You have family to go back to! Friends to laugh with! A life to live down there!

But the Gods did not give in no matter how much you pleaded and cried to them for your release. And even with some of them insisting on your stay at Olympus and with others very disapproving of it, the dining room broke out into a fight of shouts and screams in your name.

You had stepped away, knowing nothing good would come if you stayed close to a conflict between Gods themselves. Though you knew, deep down, things wouldn't get resolved for you if you just stood there looking like a fool. So you did what looked more logical to you and sneaked out of the hall, avoiding running no matter how much your body truly wanted to.

So now, there you were. Looking around the grand palace where all of the Gods gathered; where they ate as a family, laughed and lived. You have heard several stories about Olympus… But never imagined how beautiful it would actually be. A structure entirely made of gleaming pure white marble with tall ceilings held by elegant and towering pillars, the hallways wide and long, almost as if the Cyclops who built these neverending walls didn't pay much mind to how much marble was left to work with.

It was doltish to think like you had… But you couldn't just pass opportunities of an escape out of that colossal acropolis no matter how foolish they sounded. You walked close to the edge of the hallway, one that held no walls, high or low, between the empty space that the palace was “floating” above. Stepping between two pillars, you carefully leaned forward to keep a reasonable distance between your feet and the very edge of the floor, and darted your gaze down. As suspected, you were very much too elevated to consider jumping down. The floor many feet down below was scattered with rocks, sharp and huge of all kinds.

You didn't want to be here… But you certainly didn't want to die trying to leave.

So you stepped back again slowly, turning back around to keep walking further down the stretched hall. You'd have to find another way to escape… Olympus has its divine gates, no? Guarded by the Horae, or so they say. You could try to get there somehow and sneak past them and out… Surely they wouldn’t keep a mortal inside Olympus even if they did find you.

But as your mind wandered and your steps quickened mindlessly, it wasn’t long before you rounded the corner to the left hallway, letting out a loud huff as a force suddenly crashed against your own form, making both you and the person you had bumped into fall ungraciously on the floor with loud grunts, along with the strident noise of a piece of like metal jumping far from the person’s hands, leaping close to you.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” You blurted out almost immediately, stretching your hand to grab the… golden oinochoe they had dropped? It was a beautiful piece, but you got too stuck staring at the maroon purple wine you had made them spill to admire its craftsmanship. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, really! I wasn’t looking where I was going either...” A gentle, silvery male voice spoke, turned away from you. You’d think maybe it was another God, and he’d take you right back… But as you picked up the dripping jug, you got up from the floor… But who you saw made you stop dead in your tracks for a brief moment.

It was a young man around your age... He was unforgivably gorgeous, with curled locks of golden hair, slightly sunkissed gleaming skin, big blue eyes that stared at you like he was just as equally shocked about your appearance. It was apparent who this was... Dressed in fine pure white garments and gold decorating his form from head to toe. You'd heard stories about him, so many stories about Zeus' supposed lovers but he was the most prominent one.

"... Ganymede?" You tried to roll out his name from the tip of your tongue, a slight questioning tone to see if it was really him. But it seemed like it was, because the boy in front of you immediately perked up at the sound of his name falling from your lips, eyes wide as he stepped closer.

"You know my name...?" Ganymede stepped close to you, until your bodies were only inches apart. Really, he couldn't help himself. It'd been so many going years since he saw real human flesh standing before him. Well, if you were really of his kind... If you were another Goddess, he hasn't recognised you. But your casual appearance was too "normal". So you really were human. "Who are you?" Ganymede immediately asked, this time more clearly, not exactly demanding an answer but yes supplicating for one.

"Oh, uhm-" You decided to introduce yourself to the man, finally noticing how you still held onto the golden jug you had picked up and gave it to Ganymede, who muttered a soft 'thank you'. "Ah... You are a known figure back in all of Greece. A prominent lover of Zeus', so..." You wanted to continue paying your own respects to him, but you notice how Ganymede's demeanour seemed to shift in discomfort. Eyes staring off somewhere else as he crossed his arms awkwardly, enveloping into a defensive pose. You stopped your words.

You two stayed in complete silence. Not even your own breathing could be heard, only the gentle hum of the west wind outside. For some reason, even up high, you weren't exactly cold...

"Well, I'll help you fill that back up." You suddenly interjected, amicably so as you stepped close again. But when the blond was about to insist on you doing otherwise, you spoke again: "I just interrupted your duties, it's only fair I get to assist you with them now."

He stayed silent again, looking at you with eyes that were searching for any signs of hesitation. But when he didn't, he let out a soft sigh of defeat.

"The kitchen is this way..."

You both stayed awkwardly silent as you marched your way to the kitchen. While you were actively learning about which of the hallways take you somewhere and where, Ganymede had already memorized every single little crevice of Zeus' palace like the palm of his hand. You felt bad for him... You noticed how he seemed to tense every time you brought up the Olympians, so you avoided even asking questions about him. Well, to Ganymede, anyway.

When you finally arrived to the huge room that was the kitchen, you looked around at the amount of food scattered across a lengthy wooden table. Roasted fish, freshly baked bread, varieties of cheeses, boiled eggs, olives, figs, pomegranates, all you could name was sat across the table in different amounts. Counters pushed against the marble walls along with several shelves that held onto those same walls holding various vases of oils and pottery that held other spices. You saw Ganymede walking right past you towards the corner of the huge kitchen, directly towards an amphora; most likely filled with the same wine.

You weren't sure what to do exactly, so you chose to stay close behind him as you watched him skillfully fill up the jug with more wine by dipping it in the amphora, cleaning it with a rag once it was out and filled.

"It has been so long since I've last talked to someone... Human..." Ganymede admitted as he was turned away, his words quiet but holding some sort of vulnerability you couldn't quite pinpoint. "Tell me, how did you get here?" He finally turned his head to glance at you.

Standing quietly, you thought to yourself: how had you gotten here? We're you so unforgivably beautiful you managed to get a God's attention? Maybe you did something wrong, and now you were doomed to be their servant? Whatever it was, you were stuck here now.

"Quite like you, actually... I was brought here." You explained it to him, tone breathy but quiet. Ganymede stood silent, one hand holding up the wine-filled pitcher while the other rested by his side. He had an expression you couldn't exactly describe: one of pity, or perhaps quiet resentment.

"Hm, we shouldn't dwell on it too much, I suppose." He disclosed the topic, walking back with you and away from the kitchen. "Do you perhaps know news of my homeland?" He questioned while you two walked further down a hall.

"Troy?" He nodded. "Ah, well... I guess you've heard of the war that broke out?"

"Yes... The Olympians talked a lot about it." He spoke of it serenely, but you could hear the sorrowed undertone... You felt bad for what you were going to say, but the bitter truth is better than sweet lies, right?... Sometimes...

"Ah... Most inhabitants were... slain. Some others carried to slavery. The city is in shambles." You told him, propping your head down as you talked of the once prominent city, ruined by an egoistical prince. Ganymede, once again, went quiet.

Whenever you glanced up to his face, he seemed composed. Composed but distant, his eyes not quite staring at something... More like wondering. You gulped down a lump in your throat, looking back forward to the path you followed led by him.

"Ganymede... Sorry that I ask you of this, but- Do you perhaps know a way to leave Olympus?" It was worth trying to get some answers out of him, maybe. You watched him hesitating to answer, eyebrows furrowing slightly as his lips pressed into a thin line.

"There's no use to leaving Olympus by yourself." You watched Ganymede's ocean gaze shift down to you briefly, before returning to look forward. "They either find you, punish you or, in the worst case, both."

A shiver ran up your skin at the young man's words, the frown on your face kept getting longer the more you talked to him.

"... How long have you been here?" Was it insensitive to ask? Ganymede's constellation has been in the sky for more than a millennia. Either way, you waited for him to speak his own truth.

"If I may be honest with you, I don't remember. Centuries, perhaps?" Ganymede wasn't particularly counting the years of his slavery. Or, well, at least stopped doing that after losing hope. "I don't have an idea of how long, but I've given up trying to leave a long time ago."

Quietude seemed like a common occurrence as it took over again; but you were too deep in your thoughts to dwell over that. If Ganymede has been here forever, then what will be worth you trying? You heard him speak of the aftermaths of fleeing attempts, but did he know out of experience or to let you know to fear them? Though, you aren't going to give up that easily. Even if you have to climb down this mountain yourself.

Ganymede heard you sigh... He pitied you. Really, he did. He remembered when he first arrived here, he was much more terrified than you are right now. Reviving the memories on how only some of the Gods offered him comfort — a safe port to go to during those terrible times — and he had no doubt Hestia was against your stay at Olympus; she wasn't satisfied when they first brought him here, and very less now that they brought another mortal once again. But after futile attempts at trying to find some solution to get away, far away from this palace, he had given up. Completely.

It was just a matter of time until you eventually broke too... And the skies could point and call him selfish, but Ganymede felt gratified for your arrival. Don't get him wrong, he did silently support your hopes of escape! But deep down, he knew you'd stay here with him.

After a strong gush of silence, Ganymede chirped:

"We keep talking about me, but what about you? I want to get to know you, as well." And it was true, he wanted to know you. It has been a long while since they brought someone new to Olympus.

"Ah, well..." There really wasn't much about you that you could talk about. You were... Well, had quite an ordinary life. "I'm not as interesting as you depict me, Ganymede..."

"No, there has got to be something. What about your homeland? What work did you do?" He was likely ecstatic, Ganymede didn't just want to take away the spotlight again. He insisted on giving it to you.

He gripped the golden jug on his head tighter. He was so focused on how tense you seemed... Perhaps you had your mind on leaving, but couldn't he make a friend for a while? So when you took a glance at your side again, looking into Ganymede's hopeful blue eyes already looking into your own made your hard exterior give in just slightly.

"If I really must..." And so you decided to tell him about yourself, at least a little bit if not for the sake of getting a closer connection with the one protected by Zeus. You two shared short stories about yourselves, reminding each other of past stories you had once forgotten about yourselves, and even laughed along with each other. It was a bittersweet, Ganymede thought. He hadn't laughed this much with any other being in a very long time... How he had missed the feeling of being normal. Or at least pretending he was normal.

And for the very first time, he didn't feel completely lost as you two opened the doors to the feast hall of the Gods. He felt anchored to his memories, to who he was before, and just because of your presence.

Maybe he was being selfish, Ganymede told him he cared for you deep down, but he really wanted you to stay here with him. In Olympus.

What did it matter, though? You were already making your own plans to escape, not minding the blond boy who had his eyes trained on you with a carefree smile as he poured sweet Dionysian wine into the God of thunder's golden chalice.

[child-from-olympus]

Nah cuz how the HELL do you people manage to keep the things you write on Tumblr within the 4,096 character limit. I physically CANNOT do that and it's infuriating... 😭😭

[child-from-olympus]

「 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐂𝐬! 」

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pairing: Telemachus & GN!Reader !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝗦𝗙𝗪 & 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪 Headcanons !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ It's my first time writing headcanons :D

SFW Headcanons:

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Regardless of your status, if you're a servant or a slave, a princess, a child of an aristocrat, a soldier, etc etc... Telemachus will always treat you as an equal to him. He didn't grew up with many friends, so something in his mind tells him if he wants to make friends, he shouldn't be exploiting the crown.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ And now that you're his friend, it's over for him. In the morning, Telemachus will hang out with you: he'll watch the way your beautiful face scrunches up when he makes a bad joke, the way your eyes seem to gleam when you two look at each other, your smile shining as you talk to him... And by night, he'll realise he has a crush on you.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Love language is acts of service. Loves feeling useful in some way while actually helping and caring for you: runs errands for you without even being asked, gets you ANY food you've been craving, always helps you get dressed and will take or carry you anywhere if you slightly mention you're getting tired of walking or such.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Extremely touch starved, as Telemachus has only had his mother's affection until he met you. He'll always be expecting kisses and hugs from you all throughout the day, and will definitely feel neglected if he doesn't get any. He also really loves laying his head on your lap while you run your hands through his hair!

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Speaking about being starved of touch... Has got always a hand on you, no matter where you are: resting on your hip or waist, on your shoulder, holding your hand... Walking through the market, on his palace, sleeping... Maybe it's Telemachus' craving of affection or the possessiveness he doesn't admit he has. Who knows!

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Loves and I say LOVES taking walks on the beach with you. He feels so much at peace when it's just the two of you walking side by side, holding hands as you both stay quiet listening to the calming waves that hit the shore.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Telemachus would invite you over to see him training, less for showing off and more to just keep him company. But the boy would be lying if he didn't admit he has much more confidence when he's under your attention.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ He acts tough in front of everyone. Not all that "I'm fine, no need to worry about me" thing — MUCH more cliche. Telemachus would definitely flex his biceps at you when you turned your gaze back to him after staring off somewhere, put on this "nonchalant smug" look when you're near him but then go gush about you to Athena and his mother like a little boy in love. He'd eventually stop acting like this the deeper your relationship goes... But still acts like that, more as a joke, though.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Talking about Athena... He most DEFINITELY talks about you nonstop to her at a point the Goddess doesn't wanna train with him anymore. It would most likely go something like:

"Their eyes carry this gentleness to them, making me feel so understood... And their smile, Athena... Their smile is so warm, like the sun itself is kissing me all over my body!"

Gets hit on the face with a spear.

"One more mention of your lover during training and I promise you that spear will go through something other than the wind."

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Telemachus is quite sentimental, despite denying so... When emotions got overwhelming, he usually dealt with it alone or with his mother. But now he's got you — Someone to confid in fully, someone he trusts and knows that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. When he's quietly having his episodes, draped across your arms, he feels as if he's the most loved man in the world.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Really jealous as well. Along with being sentimental, Telemachus deep down also doesn't have the biggest self esteem... So when he sees you talking with practically anyone that he sees as a possible rival, he immediately gets all insecure about it. Hourly words of affirmation are appreciated!

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Man is ALWAYS lavishing you with gifts when he can't do anything for you, be it a new chiton, jewelry, pottery... He's not very good at making gifts himself (he once tried to make you a ceramic flower, ended up making some sort of misshaped twig), so he'll be spending money on you instead!

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Did I mention he absolutely loves taking you on "dates"? Simple walks around his garden, around Ithaca, and when there's a play happening at the theatron, he'll always get you a seat at the prohedria (seats of honour).

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ As Tele grew up, he had to keep track of political matters with Penelope, which meant a lot of things had to be written down and sent... He always found it super boring, so while he was sat at his desk, he started letting himself have a bit of a pastime and began drawing whatever he could imagine. He'd draw boats, he'd draw warriors, he'd draw Argos and his mother... But after meeting you, his favourite thing to draw became you. He doesn't consider himself very good at it, but he's got the passion.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ THIS is a man that spoils you rotten. You're his first ever love, his beloved, so he'll try in every single way he can to win over your heart, not even knowing he has already won it from the very beginning.

NSFW Headcanons:

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ When your first time came around, Telemachus was an absolute nervous wreck. He had never left the palace for too long as a teenager, when the suitors were around often in which he had to protect his mother's soul and name... So, obviously, he doesn't have any experience. It was sloppy, a bit awkward, lots of "Am I not hurting you?" and "Is this alright?", but you both loved it nonetheless. It was a special moment for you two. (and Telemachus DEFINITELY got handsy the morning right after).

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ He's generally slow when you two are having sex: always with his forehead pressed against your own, or your shoulder... letting out huffs and groans while gently thrusting inside you... His movements are everything but rushed when you two are veiled between linen sheets, Tele loves to take his time caressing every single inch of your skin. Slow? Sure. But very sensual with it.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ And when you two start gaining more experience, you build up the courage to ask Telemachus if he could go faster... And he does. He absolutely does and it's prone to get intense. While he's still as careful with you as he usually is, Telemachus has got stamina to last a whole week.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Baths. Not only does he find them relaxing after a long day of training, he gets all excited when he gets to take them with you. Things tend to get... Steamy when he has his hands all over your nude form — your back to his bare chest as his touch wanders all over your soaked skin, lurking down below the water.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Usually, he's more dominant than submissive in the sheets, but once the roles are flipped, he'll beg and whine for you to touch him.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ This man usually stays very quiet when you two have sex due to the suitors always roaming around the palace... But when he's absolutely sure you two are alone, Telemachus will let out the loudest noises.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ As you probably already know, an artist's imagination always gets the best of them! Besides always drawing you doing your usual stuff such as picking up flowers, holding a water filled ceramic hydria up in your head, standing by his balcony looking past the Ithacan shore... But his mind goes beyond that. He loves remembering how you look like beneath him, sketching your nude form across the paper, in the most erotic poses he could muster to think of.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ He doesn't like taking risks, such as public sex. Sure, the palace may be large and his property, but the suitors are still an equally large problem. As much as he loves you, sex outside private areas or extremely secluded places is a no.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Telemachus' favourite part of your whole body is your eyes, out of all things. The beautiful colour, their glint when you tease him, the way they look so good when you look up at him pleading... Something about when you look up at him while batting your pretty lashes just turns him on.

𓊝𓂃⋆.˚ Favourite position has got to be either face off or missionary. Telemachus doesn't like having you turned away from him, preferring having a perfect view of your face and chest.

[child-from-olympus]

『 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠 ! 』

╔═══════ ஓ๑‪‪ 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞 ! ๑ஓ ═══════╗

*ੈ‧₊° 「 𝐄𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 / 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐞 」 ˙˖ 🦪

˚꒰🎀꒱ ⋆ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 🦢⋆˖°

⋆｡˚☆ 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫... ｡⋆🪉

🌼𓇼 ⋆｡ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 ! ˚ 𓆝🪸⋆｡˚

╚═══════ ஓ๑ ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:°. ๑ஓ ═══════╝

╔════ ஓ๑‪‪ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐈 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 ! ๑ஓ ════╗

❤︎ ⋆˙┇𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐬 (𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐂: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥]

❤︎ ⋆˙┇𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐞

❤︎ ⋆˙┇𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬

❤︎ ⋆˙┇𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝... [𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧]

╚════════ ஓ๑ ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:°. ๑ஓ ════════╝

╔═ ஓ๑‪‪ 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: ๑ஓ ═╗

❤︎ ⋆˙┇Male!Reader/Canon X Male!Canon NSFW

❤︎ ⋆˙┇Reader x Aphrodite NSFW

❤︎ ⋆˙┇Any type of proship

❤︎ ⋆˙┇More to be added...

╚════════ ஓ๑ ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:°. ๑ஓ ════════╝

╔══════ ஓ๑‪‪ 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬 ! ๑ஓ ══════╗

❤︎ ⋆˙┇#🦢 ;; Evangeline's Lil' Drabbles [CHARACTER ONE SHOTS]

╚════════ ஓ๑ ˖°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:°. ๑ஓ ════════╝

❤︎ ⋆˙┇#🪽 ;; Evangeline's Lil' Headcanons [CHARACTER HEADCANONS]

❤︎ ⋆˙┇#🐚 ;; Evangeline's Asks [ANSWERING QUESTIONS]

『 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ! 』

[child-from-olympus]

「 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 」

[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pairing: Telemachus x GN!Reader !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rating: NSFW !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Note: 3.2k words.

It wasn't until later that you finally reached the concealed bathhouse of the palace, walking through the entrance arched in stone and into the solitude of the area. It was quiet — devoid of any women or men — with only the gentle breeze pushing and pulling at the water as the warm light sun cascaded down to its surface. With enough luck, the sun had warmed the water enough to be considered lukewarm.

You pulled Telemachus towards a nearby marble-carved bench helping him sit down and not missing his low wails and groans.

He seemed to let go of his own consciousness for a little while, staring down at the ground beneath his feet before his neck craned up to look at you in the eye.

“Would you mind helping me undress?” He questioned you quietly. It was a silly question- he was injured, and you clearly didn't want to leave him alone fending for himself… So you nodded.

“Not at all, prin- Uhm. Not at all..." You quickly disregarded your automatic slip up, moving close to kneel down in front of the young man.

You unfasted the leather straps of his chest armour carefully, focusing on the job at hand rather than the slight blush that was creeping on Telemachus’ face as he looked down at you. It's not that he was a pervert or anything — he hadn't been bathed since he was a child — so having that experience again, and with someone that was his approximate age, had to be rather weird.

Letting the armour fall down to his lap, you set it aside on the stone bench, unclipping the polished iron fibulae, the beautiful brooch that had some intricate carvings of emblems you didn't recognise, of his chiton; the white linen garment quickly falling from his body and bunching around his lap.

Neither of you spoke, save for Telemachus' soft panting. He seemed to know what to do exactly, lifting his hips with the little strength he had and another pained groan as you muttered an apology under your breath, finally slipping the long piece of cloth down his legs.

Now, you were by any means no depraved person, keeping your eyes respectful enough to look down at the floor as you unfastened the straps of his sandals far a bit too quickly.

Telemachus felt embarrassed as well — if he had a choice, he wouldn't be forcing to put you through this — but barely could he lift an arm without his muscles immediately screaming for rest. The man wanted to speak up an apology for the situation you were put in, but the circumstance seemed inappropriate for any words. But not saying anything seemed inappropriate as well. Should he speak up now? Or was staying quiet the better option?

“There.” You had muttered quietly, already setting his sandals aside which he hadn't even felt being removed.

“Thank you… And I'm so sorry for this.” He finally found the words at the heat of the moment, and you just shook your head with a small chuckle.

“There is no need for apologies, Telemachus. It's my duty.” You told him with as much honesty as you could. Yes, it might be a bit uncomfortable for both of you, but even if you weren't a servant, you'd still help the poor young man regardless of both of your statuses. Telemachus fell silent at your statement, watching your close movements as you finally lifted yourself up, only to try to lift him up now.

With a few huffs and much needed strength, Telemachus made it easier for you to pull him up by the arms, leaning him against your body as you guided him towards the glistening water of the bathhouse’s grand pool.

And when you finally lowered him into the water, Telemachus seemed to forget the sharp pain shooting through his body, instead sinking down into the water with a deep sigh of relief, feeling the sunny warmth ease his muscles. He leaned against the side of the pool, his gentle blue eyes following your movements carefully. For a moment, he simply watched you… Paying close attention to your gentleness and grace as you once again stood up from your kneeling position at the edge of the pool, turning around and stepping back away.

He watched you walk farther, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. The strange feeling of suddenly thinking of being alone made him embarrassingly call out to you with urgency.

"Ah, wait-" His voice echoed sharply in the marble building.

You turned your head around, confusion dawning on your face before a gentle smile suddenly quirked up on your lips.

"Do not fret, Telemachus. I was going to fetch some oils; you are in need of a bath, are you not?" You questioned him. Your question, though, made you wonder if he would indeed mind if you bathed him or not.

You didn't feel exactly confined in yourself when it came to a situation like this (even though this was the very first time out of your twenty years of living). You were more worried about what Telemachus truly wanted.

You watched as he visibly relaxed against the tall steps of the bath's steps, expression softening. Your gentle demeanor and the way you spoke to him were so different from the usual formality he was accustomed to. He nodded slowly.

"I would enjoy one, yes. Thank you, ____." The young man admitted with a small smile, turning his head back around.

You turned back around as well, already standing in front of the table holding various small aryballoi with various designs and shapes. These small flasks held oils for the people to use, each one having different distinct smells. You never used them much when you came here — always preferring to keep washing short unless you really needed one.

You grabbed two different flasks, bringing the mouths of the pottery up to your nose… Some of them had a painting of the flowers used on the flasks, but distinguishing the scents was fairly easy as well; you could smell lilium, violet, narcissus… And until you picked a particular one that smelled of hyacinth, you set all the others you had in your arms down. The light sweet scent of the flowers was perfect, so you carried it back carefully and set it on the ground right behind Telemachus.

He was quiet, head devoid of hanging low as he stared right in front of him.

You were quite hesitant of the task you were handed, even with Telemachus’ own approval and solicitation of so. You gulped down a slight lump in your throat.

“Do I… Well, may I start now?” You questioned, and his head slightly turned around.

“Yes, of course. Whenever you feel ready.” The man told you, tone light and friendly as if he was comforting you. You appreciated the amiability.

Then, carefully, you poured the sweet smelling oil contents of the tiny aryballos into your lifted palm, setting the now empty ceramic aside as you soaped up both my hands; the strong, sweet smell assaulted your nose pleasantly. Both alms snaked from around his neck, hovering right above his torso.

Feeling your hands hovering over his torso made Telemachus’ heart rate pick up slightly. He felt your warmth even before your hands touched him, and when they did, it was surprisingly gentle. Your touch was careful, almost reverent, as if you were handling something precious. You made sure to be extra gentle — soaping up his whole torso as you discreetly traced his abs with both your hands before making your way up, hands gliding across his chest. Was it perverted to enjoy this slightly? Had you never touched someone like this before. Your whole life revolved around being a servant of Nestor.

You slid your hands everywhere in his torso, washing the young man before you thoroughly. Hands finally found their way to his shoulders, not washing but yes massaging the muscles there. You didn't know exactly what you were doing either! Fingers sliding smoothly across the clean skin there as you traced various repeating patterns. You had watched a maid do it once to another when she was tired… maybe you could have the same effect.

And to your absolute surprise, Telemachus leaned into your touch involuntarily, a soft, almost inaudible sound escaping his lips as your fingers worked expertly into his tense shoulders. The combination of the warm water and your gentle touch was practically hypnotic. For the first time in his life since forever, he felt safe enough to let someone else tend to him like this once again.

"Tell me if it's too much..." You felt the need to tell him quietly, voice barely above a whisper as you kept working your self taught magic on him. Telemachus just nodded slightly, completely out of it.

Telemachus’ noise stopped briefly as you kept working to relieve him from his tension, shy to tell you to move your touch to other areas of his strained body.

Shy, but never too shy.

“Could you… do my arms as well?” He took it after you and reduced his voice to barely a whisper as well. His request was gentle, like he was just high hoping for it.

You nodded, even though Telemachus was turned away from you. Sucking in a short breath, your hands moving lower from his shoulders and smoothly sliding down to his upper arm — pulling and pressing against the muscle there.

He let out a soft sigh of relief as your hands moved to his stinging biceps, pressing gently against the tight muscles in his skin. Telemachus could feel the strains easing with every touch, and it felt incredibly intimate, much as it was awkward to admit for him. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to break the spell you were weaving with your fingers.

His eyes did open after a while as soon as he felt your delicate hands travel up his arms, rounding his shoulders and back to his chest. Shame washed through his head as the man bit his lip silently, deplorably wondering what it would be like to have those hands explore other parts of his body… The urge to tell you to go lower was strong, but Telemachus held himself back, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“I… As you have seen, I can't walk very well either…” Telemachus’ voice got lower every time he had another request at the tip of his tongue, as if he got more ashamed by each one he decided to ask of you. You understood him well; excruciating was the feeling of your task at hand… maybe not to you, but to him.

But that was quite the total opposite of what Telemachus had in mind as you helped him sit on the side of the long marble step of the pool, sitting turned left from you. The young man couldn't stop the shamefully indecisive feeling of wanting your hands to go lower — to touch parts of his body he hadn't thought anyone would ever touch anytime soon. Telemachus had never asked anything from any people he ever met: he wanted to wait. Wait for the one, just like the stories of his mother and the man she fell in love with.

But as you moved your delicate fingers so dexterously along the muscles of his shins, he wondered if he really had to wait? And who knows… As his blue eyes travelled up, they rested blissfully on your focused face. He was only now fully admiring how admittedly beautiful you were. A face that seemed to be carefully sculpted from the most gleaming milestone — eyebrows knitted together in concentration as your lips remained the very same shape, although almost pressing into a thin line — and your eyes… Those were probably his favourite part. Deep, fixed eyes of the colour of tourmaline. Even as you looked down, hair framing your face perfectly, he still focused the way your eyes had a natural gleam to them.

But as Telemachus focused on your perfectly blessed features, he didn't even dare notice how his body was reacting underwater until an almost inaudible groan slipped from his parted lips, closing his eyes softly briefly. He would be ashamed of this further, especially because he was in front of a foreigner, a soul he didn't know at all and had yet to discover more about. And this wasn't exactly the way Telemachus expected to get to know you.

His legs spread slightly unconsciously, and although you tried to ignore it, assuming it was involuntary action, you were doing horribly trying to not take notice of his growing reaction between his legs; eyes flashing briefly to the now standing member before you forced them to focus back on his skin. You had never interacted with many people besides a few ones that dared to try to court you. You were inexperienced in every way, but you still tried to remain composed and ignore curiosity. ‘This was a prince! The prince of Ithaca, for the Gods' sakes! You are a servant!’

He let out a soft groan as your thumbs brushed over his sensitive skin, his hips bucking slightly. He was fully hard now, his erection straining against the water. Telemachus knew he should stop this, but he couldn't bring himself to. Your touch alone was driving him completely wild. He looked up at you through his lashes, soft eyes that held longing, with a soft tint of plea. He wanted you to touch him there so badly it hurt. He knew this was wrong, he didn't know how you felt about all of what was happening, but he spread his legs wider — daring inviting you in.

Painful, long moments passed as your pressed lips did their work to avoid letting out any shaky breaths that might give away your want. You wanted it. To touch him. Badly. Your eyes flashed over to the erect member again, your head tilting lower so your locks hid the way you stared from Telemachus. Although, he already had his gaze on you, and the young man seemed to notice this.

He reached out, taking one of your hands in his with the grace of a delicate falling leaf as his fingers wrapped around the back of your soapy hand, fingers wrapping around the spaces of your own fingers. Slowly, he guided it down, placing it on his lower stomach, right above his straining erection. He looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Shame had completely run out of his head, now. He needed you. He needed your touch.

“Touch me… Please, ____…” Telemachus said hoarsely, wobbly worded.

Your eyes, head tilted slightly as your locks almost covered them up, widened more as you looked dumbfounded at the prince's request, breathing ragged with anticipation as my eyes trailed over to his hard, standing erection, and then back at how delicately he held your hand in his. You gulped.

"I-I... Uhm... I don't know... How to..." You said it so apprehensively, looking away, down at the water as you heard a soft groan from him, almost keen to a soft, breathy laugh.

“It's alright… Sorry, I'll show you..." Telemachus said, guiding your hand lower, and wrapping your tender fingers around his shaft. You could feel his skin between your fingertips; calloused and veined as you felt it, soaked from the water and smooth as he began to pump slowly, guiding your hand.

You were completely mesmerised — eyes wide open, lips parted as you tried to control your rough breathing — and his noises were the best part. Music from the only one of the bestest instruments as he moaned and whined. Just because of your touch. And Telemachus watched you intently with half lidded eyes, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he moved your hand up and down his length. He could see the curiosity in your eyes, the way you bit your lip as you watched him pleasure himself with your hand. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

The prince finally seemed to slowly loosen his grip on your hand, letting you go at your own now practising pace as you held onto his thigh with your other hand, supporting yourself up from leaning too much towards him and falling into the water. He moaned louder when your hand moved with rapid fervour, and you wanted nothing more than to hear more of those sounds rip from his throat.

You were thankful every single man was out in the courtyard still training under Hipparchus' command, or else you'd have a lot to explain to the commander and especially the King. But you pushed those thoughts aside, instead focusing on the pleasure you gave the young Ithacan prince laid next to you, the feeling of his skin against both of your palms was so incredibly titillating that you couldn't help but lean just a little closer above him.

And with a choked groan, his shaft twitched in your hand suddenly, the whitish liquid releasing over your hand and into the bathwater below. Telemachus kept your hand wrapped around him, milking out every last drop as he rode out his orgasm with satisfied breaths.

You both just stayed there silently, Telemachus was panting from the intensity of his climax, while your breath was not as violent, simply still not believing what came over the two of you. You lifted your gaze up from the water to look over at Telemachus, but much to your surprise, his eyes, shining like apatite gemstones, were already looking into your own gleaming ones with a strange fondness…

But before you could even utter a single word, you felt a sudden strong push behind you, one that tore away your balance on the edge of the pool of water below, that had a shriek ripping away from your throat before a loud splash came from the water around you — before you landed right on top of Telemachus himself. Supporting himself with bent elbows as he looked up at you wide eyed.

You didn't know what in Zeus' name seemed to push you so suddenly off the marble edge, but you weren't complaining. You grabbed at the clothes you were, feeling them soaked and clinging to your cold skin, but Telemachus found the sight of you absolutely mesmerized above him. The way the sunlight sleeping behind made the sight of you absolutely ethereal to look at.

And suddenly, he had a hand gently gripping your chin, guiding your face down with the grace of a swan until both of your lips finally touched. And it was the warmest feeling ever. For both you and Telemachus — sharing such an intimate moment, now finally pressed against each other as the water gently splashed around you both with each tiny movement.

No thanks to a certain winged God yielding a bow, sat at the top of the open roof of the bathhouse. A chuckle escaped past his rosy lips as he watched his two victims, fallen victims to his arrows.

And his wings fluttered high, disappearing into clouds as the two of you finally got comfortable in each other's arms. Enough for the prince to return the favour by doing the very same in return.

[child-from-olympus]

「 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 」

[𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Pairing: Telemachus x GN!Reader !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rating: SFW !

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Note: 2.4k words.

It had been days since prince Telemachus of Ithaca had finally arrived at the kingdom of Pylos, ruled by King Nestor: an old man who claimed to be a close friend of his father's. Or so he said.

His trip to Pylian land was originally supposed to be only a day at Nestor's palace and then back to sailing, but the old King encouraged the man to stay a few more days to celebrate his arrival.

Telemachus was... Hesitant at first. The only reason he had come to Nestor was to try to seek answers of the whereabouts of his father, Odysseus of Ithaca.

The young man was skeptical of this journey; was he making a trip and endangering the men he brought with him at sea for nothing? For the chase of a dead man? But most of his doubts were gone when Nestor pulled him aside during the commemoration of the prince's stay in Pylos. The elder sat him in a large, comfortable chair, which the eldest immediately sat in another right in front of him. He had told him stories: stories of Odysseus, his father, sailing his ship along with other six hundred men to come back to him and his mother.

Nestor then told him that if he wanted more answers to the hundreds of questions Telemachus had yet to ask, he had to travel to his mother's homeland, Sparta, to speak with King Menelaus; also a great friend of Odysseus.

But when Telemachus wanted to part early from Pylos, to quickly end his journey and return early to his mother, Nestor stopped him. Convincing the young prince to stay a few days at the old King's island to refresh after so many days of travel.

The young prince was skeptical… he didn't want to leave his mother defenseless for so long. But as he saw the way his crew seemed to relax and enjoy themselves in the dining hall of the foreign palace, Telemachus gave in.

With that, he decided to stay no longer than a week.

But, of course, even if Nestor heartened his and his crews’ rest, Telemachus didn't stop training at Athena's request.

That's how he had ended up in the palace's courtyard (used for the soldiers’ training as well), men all scattered around focusing on their own sparring with each other, resting along the wooden benches pushed near the walls, some watched the prince and the general commander Hipparchus brawling.

Hipparchus was a shapely man, almost as thrice as old as the young prince of Ithaca, but he still couldn't battle his strength, which made the prince’s defeat much more humiliating.

In the middle of the yard they stood — Hipparchus stood composed, in an elegant pose with a hand at his hip as the other held his bronze spear close, he was panting, but not as much as the Ithacan prince. His icy blue eyes rested sharply on Telemachus, who crouched on the tiled ground, panting like a tired dog. Spear and shield tossed haphazardly on the ground of both of his sides.

“Your aim is clearly not lacking, young prince.” Hipparchus’ husky, rough voice suddenly began. “But your sharp-wit needs to be practiced. You would've beat me if not for the mistake of putting your foot in front of where I could best make you lose your balance.” Telemachus knew Hipparchus was only trying to correct his mistake and help him out for the next time, but he didn't let the older man's prideful tone go over his head.

“It’s only fair… for a young soldier such as myself… to make those mistakes. Is it not?... We all grow.” The prince panted loudly, letting the words spill out with each exhale he pushed.

He heard the old commander chuckle, a sound most of his men never heard despite the years under his command.

Telemachus finally regained back his breath, his throat as distastefully dry as Asia's endless deserts. When the young man tried to stretch out his legs, he was hit with a sharp pain that made his muscles scream. A pained groan leaving his lips as his pearl-like teeth grit.

The old commander took notice almost immediately, his smirk pressing into a thin frown as he walked over to where Telemachus was hunched, and slowly descended down to the tiled floor himself, knees bent as he stood on the balls of his feet. His polished spear serving as a support.

“Does your body fail you, young prince? Can you not move?” Hipparchus asked him curiously, and Telemachus let his strained nod answer for him. “Hm. Do not fret, prince Telemachus. It's something ordinary… Happens to the soldiers who refused proper warm-up before sparring.” The elder explained, getting up from the ground again, correcting once again a mistake Telemachus had yet to remember next time.

But even with a hidden smug look adorning Hipparchus' wrinkled features, his storm coloured eyes raked over the multiple men that sparred alongside them, looking to find some solution for Telemachus problems.

Though he couldn't see much as he turned his head from a point of the courtyard to another, sighing softly at how the task could possibly be handled…

Until Hipparchus' eyes finally fell on someone: you.

You were a mere servant- Living in the palace of King Nestor of Pylos for as long as you could remember. Never had a task been assigned to you unless your help was for something specific, so others really couldn't find you in a specific spot in the castle, always working, always chasing chore after chore.

This time was no different. Bronze trays were dangerously being balanced along the length of your arms, carrying various types of foods that the chefs had put together for the soldiers in training to feast in in between their sparring at the courtyard.

You pushed past one the huge doors that separated the rest of the rest of the palace and the big spacious area, designed more for training than anything else; chin held high as your confidence didn't seem to look like it was wavering on the outside, but it was internally screaming in the inside as you took slow steps towards the table that was nearest to you - a long wooden one that was pressed against the wall.

But had you barely set a single piece of the metal down on the wood, you heard no other than the general himself shouting:

"You! Servant!" Hipparchus' voice yelled high and demanding, but barely almost escaping being outnumbered by the sounds of weapons clashing and men excitedly yelling from multiple places along the courtyard.

But even so, with the ambiguous intention of the man's voice, your head turned around in curiosity...

And much to your dismay, general Hipparchus had a finger pointed your way. Your throat tightened with a heavy gulp, expecting the older man to scream at you to leave the scene, but when he didn't, you quit looking so stupid with trays still balancing on your arms for their dear existence and placed all the food down at the table, hesitantly taking slow steps into the middle of the courtyard where Hipparchus stood; ready to receive another order despite only just finishing another one.

You kept your head down respectfully as you walked closer to the pair, more nervous because of the powerful stares you could feel burning into your head.

"Take young prince Telemachus down to the bathhouse." The elder had immediately ordered had you barely even stepped close enough to him, tight blue eyes trained on your form as you approached.

"His body is unmoving and is in need of a steady hand."

'Unmoving...?' You wondered to yourself more than questioning Hipparchus personally; gaze slowly trailing down to glance at the boy that stood crouched before you. His eyes were closed, more looking like he was in pain than concentrating. Confusion seemed to grow short, though, as you recognised the ordinary circumstance of muscle strain. It happened a lot to the soldiers that were ignorant enough to skip preparation.

You didn't dare ask of anything or anyone, immediately getting down on the ground to gently wrap your hands around the prince's body anywhere that could be of support to try to lift him to his feet.

Telemachus would huff out and groan in pain at each one of your touches, although they were meant to be helpful, poking at his sore flesh wasn't serving the best help. Luckily, the pain made him forget the tremendous awkwardness of the situation although you were well aware as you struggled to get the young man to his feet.

At the end of the battle, his arm was wrapped around your shoulders, busying his other hand to grip the front of his dampened chiton as Telemachus panted from the sheer amount of pressure he had to go through just to rise from the floor. Walking to the bathhouse would be a nightmare, for sure.

You gave a curt nod to commander Hipparchus, who elegantly so gave one right back as you turned around from the elder with Telemachus wrapped around you. You needed to remember not to step too quickly or too far, trying not to rush anything as you carried a bruised soldier. No, worse! You were carrying an injured prince!

Many of the men in the courtyard didn't seem to even spare as much as a brief glance as you left the locale with Telemachus... The door cracked open where you two passed by, as you were too much focused on the man fighting to stay upright as he catched support from you: slightly hunched, hands firm but gently wrapped around him. You were admittedly weak to carry such a heavy man, so you could do as much as help him to the maximum.

He kept softly groaning and huffing out quietly under his breath... You could tell he was holding back far more, afraid of being too loud. But the hallways of the palace were hollow and quiet. A soft echo stretching out through the corridor.

It was rather difficult to keep your eyes and ears to yourself as you took quick side glances at the limping man next to you. It was one of the first times you had seen him around the palace, especially this close... He was rather as handsome as some other maids described him to be. 'No! No! He's a prince!

Compose yourself!

Chastising yourself mentally, Telemachus didn't miss the way your face was so endearingly concentrated on their path forward; eyebrows knitted together as a smile was missing on your lips. He didn't enjoy the silence... So he took it upon himself to cheer things up despite the hurting way he 'carried' himself.

"You must think I'm pathetic," His voice was low and astoundingly breathy as a chuckle escaped past his lips. You stared, alarmed. "Getting bashed by a man three times my age..." His voice held amusement

you could tell he was joking with you. Although, you didn't take that as a joke, squeaking out nervously:

"Of course not, prince Telemachus! I thought you were splendid!" Truly speaking, you had only arrived at the makeshift arena a heartbeat's moment before Telemachus was on the ground. "Lasting that long with Hipparchus is impressive. Don't let his old age fool you... He's a man with a sharp mind and an equally sharp spear." You heard Telemachus chuckle again beside you, and you noticed the wide grin he wore as you spared him another side glance.

"You think I did amazing? I could barely stand without getting an immediate blow." He jested with that cheerful wide grin of his, showing off his pearly white teeth.

You could let out a smile of your own as you watched the prince enjoy himself near you this close, his joy near completely contagious.

"I'm sure you did extraordinary. And I'm sure the commander thought like that of you too, prince Telemachus." Your voice lowered to a much softer tone than your earlier much nervous one, a sharp contrast to the change in the atmosphere between you two.

Telemachus' demeanour shifted, his wide grin turning into a gentle smile as he side stared at you.

Slow to glance away, looking forward on the path of the hallway you two followed in. The two of you laid in a warm silence once again, save for Telemachus' soft huffing and both of your sandals clicking on the tiled ground.

"Uhm..." He began with a soft murmur. "You don't have to call me 'prince'. Just Telemachus is fine." The casual, gentle tone he carried as if talking to someone close made your eyes widen the slightest bit, head turning slightly to look dumbfoundedly at his statement.

"Oh- I..." You weren't really sure what to say, looking quickly away to hide the embarrassment. "But I am just a mere servant-" You explained nervously, glancing at him quickly. As much as it felt freeing, calling a foreign prince only by his name, bearing from his title, felt disrespectful. I was made to serve the higher people of the palace, not treat them as equals.

The young man shook his head, still holding that soft smile in between his lean features as he looked up at you.

"And while I'm a guest in this kingdom, I am just a man." He told you with such casualty, it made your brain twist and turn. Staying quiet as you heard his words, spoken with such honesty that you couldn't find words to wit yourself back in line. So you nodded, accepting his strange request.

"Of course... Telemachus…”

His smile brightened at your words. But it seemed to shift not even a second later, eyes open wide as if he had just realised something.

“Oh, forgive me! I did not ask for the name of the one assisting me.” He explained, hurrying his words like it was something to be cursed out for. You were surprised yourself for a moment, but yes because he was suddenly acting so… “normal” with the tinkering of lack of titles to call him by name instead, and asking for your name as well.

Words failed you for a long moment, but you very quietly introduced yourself to satisfy the prince’s will.

The whole interaction between you too… It felt surreal. There was no reason for the heir of a foreign kingdom to talk to you. So tense you were, but very curious as well…