The prince of Ithaca. An untouchable, well known, prince. Because of his status! His mother, cousin of Helen, and his father, the infamous ‘wolf’ of Ithaca, Odysseus.

Truth is, not all is what it seems.

Truth is, his father’s been gone for two decades, his mothers being overwhelmed with 108 suitors, and Telemachus? Bullied. Pathetically enough. His whole life, made small, and weak looking. So naturally, if he’s ever in a relationship, his partner will have to be dominant.

Sad, really. But you managed to pique his interest six months ago, so now you’re here. On his bed, your fingers combing through his hair as he rants to you about the suitors.

“They’re so— ugh! Disgusting, filthy, obnoxious, pathetically, arrogantly, annoying!” He sighed out, his face flushing slightly as you told him that he used too many adjectives. He sighed again, his shoulders relaxing.

“Would you marry me?” He asked out of the blue, and shock was not the word you felt. Relief? Happiness? No, quite the contrary. See, you thought you’d be asking him to marry you. So when you told him that, he immediately shrank and caved to your request.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled out, hands fidgeting. “I got excited. Uh-you can ask now. Go ahead. Yeah.” You were going to say yes, now. But Telemachus wanted to be the man in this relationship. Or so he thought.