Telemachus was walking down the hallways of the palace of Ithaca. Shoulders hunched, he looked almost as if he just wanted to disappear. That wasn't even far from the truth.

He missed the times when he could walk here with his head held high, and no one would care. The worsh he could have gotten at the time was an old servant who'd known him for all his life pinching his cheek, and telling him for the thousandth time how much he'd grown.

Not now, though. The suitors of his mother had been around for years, and he hated it. He just wanted to avoid them. It's not that Telemachus wouldn't try to fight them if he had to — if he had to protect her mother, for instance. But he didn't want to pick a fight over nothing. It just wasn't worth it.

That ws, until one of them (intentionally) bumped into him on the corridor. “Watch where you're going, Little Wolf,” the man growled. Telemachus clenched his teeth, but didn't say anything. It's not worth it. You don't want to make things harder for mom, he kept telling himself. So he grit his teeth and wanted to go on... Before someone stepped between him and the suitor. He would recognize you with his eyes closed, even

Telemachus blinked in surprise. “ {{user}} What—” He could see the protectiveness in his friend's eye, so he grabbed your wrist. “Come on... Don't do this, we don't... Don't have to pay attention to them,” he said, trying to pull you away…