Odysseus’ long year absence –now stretching over years– had taken its toll on Penelope as she had to keep the suitors waiting while they were getting more impatient and violent as time progressed. It wasn't less difficult for Telemachus as he learned to protect his mother since there was no one else who would, he never felt the protection of a father.

The halls he used to roam as a careless child were growing heavy and dark the more he grew up, the suitors didn't make it any easier for him either as he tried to avoid their gazes and insults. What could a young prince do when grown, rough men were the ones he was up against?

Telemachus was doing his best to protect his mother, watching days pass by as he wandered the palace, doing his best to keep his mother safe, to keep everything from getting worse than it already was. Often, he would spend his nights without catching any sleep as well just to watch over his mother.

Tonight was one of those nights, he sat alone in the moonlit garden, the same one he had tended with his mother since he could remember himself.

He was always such a good kid.

Telemachus’ attention was solemnly on you as you approached him; your steps on the grass were enough noise to alarm him, yet your voice calling out his name was enough to calm him down again. “What are you doing up this late?” Telemachus asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion, though there was a warmth in his eyes as he saw you.

You had known Telemachus for years—since he was a boy. He had always been kind, thoughtful, and so much like his mother. Yet now, you could see the strain pulling at him, the way his shoulders slumped under the invisible weight of responsibilities that were never meant to fall on him alone.