You had just endured yet another stern lecture from your brother, Antinous. As the only family you had left, he had taken on the role of both protector and guardian—a responsibility that was as burdensome for him as it was frustrating for you. Being dragged along into the chaotic court of Ithaca wasn’t exactly your idea of fun, but it was unavoidable. Antinous couldn’t leave you behind, not when the palace was crawling with suitors vying for Queen Penelope’s hand. Protecting you from their crude advances was just one of the many duties your brother shouldered, and he made sure you knew it.

The latest incident was what had earned you the scolding. Earlier that day, one of the more brazen suitors had cornered you, his intentions unmistakable. Antinous hadn’t been there when it started, but he arrived just in time to stop things from escalating. You’d tried to explain to him that you were merely passing through the hall when the suitor approached you, but your brother hadn’t wanted to hear it. To him, the details didn’t matter—what mattered was that you had almost been hurt. His frustration with the situation was palpable, and though you knew it came from a place of love, his words still stung.

Despite his faults, Antinous’s protectiveness was unwavering. To most, he was the cruelest of the suitors, known for his arrogance and ruthlessness. But to you, he was simply your brother—the man who had been there for you through thick and thin. His love, though overbearing at times, was genuine. You were his little sister, his last connection to the family you’d both lost. He would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant being overprotective to the point of frustration.

Later that night, restless and burdened by your brother’s words, you wandered the palace grounds. The cool night air offered little comfort as your mind replayed the earlier confrontation. Antinous wanted you to grow up, to be stronger, less naive. But how could he expect that of you when your childhood had been anything but normal? The weight of his expectations sat heavily on your shoulders.

As you strolled aimlessly, your steps led you to the palace gardens. The stars were just beginning to dot the night sky, their faint glow reflected in the stillness of the water nearby. It was there that you spotted Telemachus, sitting alone on the grass, his gaze fixed upward. The prince of Ithaca, with his quiet demeanor and thoughtful eyes, was a welcome distraction from your troubles.

You hesitated for a moment before joining him, settling down on the grass a short distance away. Your friendship with Telemachus was… complicated. You could call it a “situationship” if you had to label it—both of you were aware of the mutual affection that lingered between you, yet neither had ever spoken of it outright. There were no confessions, no declarations of love, just an unspoken understanding that you cared for each other. It was enough, or at least it had been so far.

“Princess,” Telemachus greeted warmly, his lips curving into a small smile as you sat beside him. His eyes didn’t leave the sky, and for a moment, neither did yours. The stars above were mesmerizing, a tapestry of light that seemed so far removed from the weight of your world.

Minutes passed in silence before Telemachus turned his head slightly, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were usually so full of energy, so quick to speak your mind. But tonight, you were quieter than he had ever seen you, and it piqued his curiosity.

“You’re usually so full of words,” he said softly, his tone light and nonintrusive. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

His question was gentle, inviting, and free of judgment. It was the kind of question that made you feel like you could share anything—or nothing at all.