╰┈➤𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ━━ ❝You've always been my little muse.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you're the object of many powerful men desires; from gods to warriors...they all want 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 🇵🇴🇸🇹-ᴇᴘɪᴄ: ᴛᴍ!ᴀᴜ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
📖A mythic slow-burn, spiralin...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
The journey down had been peaceful—surprisingly so.
The royal carriage had been comfortably full, yet not stifling.
You sat across from Penelope and Odysseus, the former gently chiding the latter for dozing off halfway through the ride, while Telemachus lounged beside you. Lady curled neatly at your feet with her head resting across your boots; the beast had only yawned once when a bump in the road shook the carriage—then promptly went back to sleep, tail flicking lazily against your ankle.
The conversation had been light. Odysseus pointed out which merchants would try to swindle newcomers; Penelope shared a funny story about Telemachus' first time in the square as a child—how he once tried to duel a pigeon—smiling gently as she straightened the edge of your shawl. You'd even laughed freely when Telemachus buried his face in his hand in embarrassment, groaning that she was never allowed to tell that story again.
The warmth in the air wasn't just from the sun.
And every so often, when your eyes had drifted to him—you'd find that his had already been on you.
When the carriage rolled to a gentle stop at the edge of the square, you could already hear the lively murmur of townspeople gathering.
Though Ithaca's market day was winding down, the buzz of voices, colorful stretch of woven awnings, and faint scent of roasted nuts and olives still lingered thick in the square.
The door was opened with a crisp flourish by the coachman, sunlight spilling in across the ornate floorboards. Odysseus stepped out first, boots landing firm and assured on the cobbled stones. With the smooth familiarity of a king used to ceremony, he turned, extending a steady hand for his queen.
"Careful now," he murmured, a private note in his voice as Penelope gracefully accepted his help, her cloak catching in the breeze like a banner, smiling as her sandals touched down beside him.
Telemachus followed, and without hesitation, he turned to you, his palm upturned in a silent offer. You placed your hand in his, letting him guide you out. His fingers curled slightly around yours, and before letting go, he gave your hand a soft, grounding squeeze.
Encouragement. Reassurance.
You weren't doing this alone.
You smiled at him, just a little—enough to make his lips twitch in answer before Lady leapt down behind you, tail wagging softly, her sleek black fur glinting in the sun.
Before you could properly take in the vibrant bustle of the square, a familiar voice rang out.
