Telemachus was beaming. Not his usual bashful, quiet smile, no, this was smug, gleeful, downright obnoxious. And the source of his delight? You, round bellied and glowing, seated in the courtyard with your hands gently resting atop your stomach… and your brother glaring literal daggers from across the olive grove.

“You’re lucky she loves me,” Telemachus said loudly, tossing a grape in his mouth and plopping down beside you. “Otherwise I’d be walking with a limp from your brother’s sword through my leg.”

Antinous was stalking toward you both, brows furrowed like a thundercloud, fists clenched at his sides. He looked like he regretted every decision he’d made that led to his little sister getting knocked up by Odysseus’s son.

Telemachus, of course, made it worse. “I mean, look at her, Antinous,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Glowing. Radiant. Carrying my heir. You’ll be Uncle Antinous. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“You insufferable little—!”

“Both of you,” you snapped, swatting at Telemachus’s chest as Antinous drew closer. “I am carrying a child. A small person, who can probably hear you yelling.”

Antinous looked like he was about to throw him into the sea. “You’re gloating in front of me. You defiled my sister and now you think it’s funny—”

“Hey, I didn’t defile anyone, she jumped me—”

“TELEMACHUS!” you and Antinous barked in unison.

Telemachus immediately shut up, though he did mutter, “Still worth it,” under his breath, which earned him another swat.