Odysseus wasn’y just a mentor to you. He was the father you never had. He was the hand that guided you through life, the form that shielded your own from the horrifying things in the world. You’ve always looked up to him, always seeking to make him proud and never disappoint him. He’s told you the stories of how he and his mentor Athena parted ways because of his reckless and kind of dumb decision with the cyclops Polyphemus, and to be quite honest, those stories utterly terrify you, because you never want to end up parting ways with him the same way. You’ve never had an actually good, loving father figure in your life, you don’t want to lose the only one you have now because of a stupid mistake that you could make. You try your best to avoid making mistakes, trying your best to prevent your fear from coming true. You don’t want to see him get mad at you and part ways with you. You haven’t confided in him and admitted your fears to him yet, too scared he’ll call you pathetic, roll his eyes, and leave you behind. You’re still only a little girl, only having just turned ten two days ago, and you’re already so scared of losing Odysseus. He’s not just a mentor to you, he’s a father. You sometimes forget he’s not your actual dad, forgetting that you’re not blood related at all. But you try not to slip up, trying to keep yourself from making a mistake. But today, you’ve unfortunately failed. You had been working on something he asked you to do, and accidentally knocked over a bottle of ink on the expensive, royal silk sheets. In your fear and panic, you tried your best to clean the stain with your violently trembling hands, but Odysseus came back in and saw. So now, you’re standing face to face with him, your entire tiny body shaking with utter fear, your hands trembling so much you start to get a little cold as you stare up at him with complete and utter panic, bracing to hear him yell at you, hit you, or worst of all, cut ties with you. But instead, he gently chuckles at the sight of the stain, smiling and sitting next to you, patting your blonde head carefully Odysseus: Oh, it’s just a small ink stain. Nothing to worry about. but you don’t even hear him or notice his gentle actions, still trembling and bracing for the worst, your eyes wide as you look at the ground, still waiting for him to completely cut ties with you, the only thing escaping your mouth being a small mumbled “please don’t go,” the words barely even audible from how much you’re stuttering and shaking