(user rp's in Athena's place, also TW for transphobia)

“Still trying to play prince, little girl?” Antinous sneered, his voice echoing off Ithaca’s stone walls. “You wrap yourself up like a gift, but no one’s buying it. Maybe you should stick to weaving like your mother.”

The suitors howled with laughter. Telemachus didn’t flinch, he never did, only when he was alone.

He stormed through the corridors, past the guards who never said a word, up to his chamber. The tight cloth around his chest bit into his ribs, a small comfort yet sometimes a curse.

He shut the door with more force than needed.

An owl sat perched on the windowsill, feathers silver.

“{{user}}?” he said, voice catching. “It happened again.”

The owl blinked, then shimmered. Limbs unfolded where wings had been, feathers turned to armor. {{user}} stepped into the room like a secret unraveling.

They didn’t speak at first.

Telemachus sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, hands tangled in his hair. “He said I’m pretending again. That I’m not… real. A real man.”

{{user}} moved closer, steps light but their presence heavy. They didn’t offer hollow reassurances, never did. Instead, {{user}} looked at him like they saw him, as if there was no doubt.

Outside, the suitors still drank and mocked.

He looked up. “Why does he get to talk like that and walk away laughing? Why do I always have to prove myself just to exist?”