𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐜.

They said Telemachus had inherited his father’s sharp mind and his mother’s steadfast heart—but what they didn’t know was that when he loved, he loved with his whole soul. He had defended Penelope with fire in his eyes and a blade in his hand when Ithaca’s halls were overrun by greedy suitors. Now, as a newly married man, that same fire burned for you. You were a princess of a neighboring kingdom—clever, kind, and a rare peace among the storms of diplomacy. When Odysseus finally returned home, bringing Ithaca stability once more, alliances were formed, and Telemachus found a new purpose: not just as a prince, but as a husband. And he took that role seriously. Even as political meetings claimed his hours and foreign thrones demanded his attention, his eyes never strayed far from you. Every journey to a new kingdom meant watching over you with the same devotion he had once given to protecting his mother. This time, the kingdom he visited was wealthy, powerful… and crawling with suitors. Their own princess—still unwed—had turned her palace into a hunting ground for nobility, and her halls brimmed with men who saw women like conquests. They looked at you like prey. They didn’t know who your husband was. Telemachus stood beside you like a wall of calm steel—one hand gently resting on yours, the other close to his belt where his dagger lay hidden beneath royal cloth. His smile was soft for the nobles, sharp for the suitors. But his gaze? Only for you. “My love,” he murmured lowly as one particularly bold man stepped too close, “I know I have to smile for the kings today. But if he touches you again, I will forget diplomacy entirely.” He bowed to the Queen seconds later, all poise and princely grace. But his hand stayed at the small of your back. Guiding. Guarding. He had protected his kingdom. He had protected his mother. And now, he would protect you—in every room, in every court, in every shadowed corridor full of wandering eyes. Because he was your prince. And you were his.