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Chapter Text

Life was beginning to fall into place again. Telemachus had once thought that life was bound to be a never ending trial, one of which he was being punished for solely for having a possibly dead father, but ever since said father came back, he was learning to experience the joys that come with life.

For once, his family was whole, and while there was still a gap to be bridged with his father, they were slowly doing that, and learning how to be father and son. Soon, a whole year had passed, and Telemachus could almost pretend what was going on was normal, and that his life wasn’t one of strangeness. So much so, that at the age of twenty one, he was finally ready to find someone to marry.

“Are you sure?” his father asked. “It hasn’t been that long since the suitors were dealt with, I wouldn’t blame you if the idea of marriage still irked you.” His father, having missed his childhood, was doing his best to get the opportunity to baby him while still giving him the independence a grown man needed.

“I am sure. I want to marry, and I am not put off by what mother and I have faced,” he answered. He had wanted to marry someday even before the suitors moved in, so now that everything had calmed down slightly, it was finally time to make that dream happen.

His mother smiled gently at him. “You will find such a great love, my son deserves nothing but the best,” she answered softly.

His father soon joined his mother in smiling. “I know you will fall in love with someone who truly understands you.” 

That was the end of that conversation, and Telemachus ended up going out more and more, wanting to find someone to love. He tried many people, although he soon lost motivation at how little the people around him interested him. He quickly learned that women weren’t for him, but the men around him were too brutish. After just a month, he was wondering if finding love truly was something he should be focusing on at the moment, and considered waiting until a later date to try again.

And then Theocrites came into his life.

“Excuse me, good man, may I have directions?” Telemachus heard from his side as he was returning to the palace. He turned to face the voice, expecting to know who was talking to him, but instead he was met with a face he hadn’t seen before. He was tall, and muscled, with dark skin and darker hair pulled into a small braid that rested just over his shoulder. Telemachus was more interested in his face, which held a structured nose, a charming smile, and deep blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean. Never before had he met a man that made equating them with a god feel worth it, but this man was certainly worth it.

“Yes, of course,” he stumbled, remembering the question and being brought out of his thoughts. “What do you need directions for?” he asked.

The man stretched his shoulder’s casually, and Telemachus wished he was behind him to see how the muscles moved. He was losing it. He had known this man for moments and was already salivating over him. No one would blame him for feeling such a way, but it was still embarrassing.

“I have recently moved here from Pylos, as my family has decided they want nothing to do with me, and I would like to know where I can find a place to stay for the night while I figure out where I shall live for the foreseeable future?” he asked. His voice was strong, fit for commanding, but used ever so softly. 

His family, at this point, was well known for their generosity in housing people, so the answer came simply. “I can house you.” As often as Telemachus was tempted to break such ancient laws with the suitors, he did care deeply for Xenia. Who would he be to allow such a nice, and handsome, man to be without a roof for even a night?

Theocrites smiled wider, and were Telemachus any more foolish, he would have sworn he would do anything to see that smile again. “Thank you, you are so sweet to me.” He placed his hand on his chest. “To make things simpler, I shall introduce myself. I am Theocrites, son of Hypatius. Upon my father learning that I can find myself attracted to men, he chased me out of Pylos, and I wish to make a home here in Ithaca.”

Telemachus was barely containing his shaking. Not only was this man as handsome as the gods, he was also attracted to men such as himself. “It is lovely to meet you, Theocrites. I am Telemachus, son of Odysseus. I am the prince of Ithaca, and I hope you find the home you are looking for here.” 

Theocrites became shocked. “Oh Prince, I am sorry for intruding. A high class man such as yourself shouldn’t grow bothered with someone like me, I will find another place to stay.” He turned to move away, but Telemachus caught his arm, causing him to look at him oddly.

“Oh, there is truly no need to apologise. I have no issue housing you until you can get a home of your own. Truly, it would be better this way, my family has more than enough food to feed another mouth, and many unused beds.” Telemachus found himself trying to make his home sound as inviting as possible, not ready to let the man go. Is this how his father felt about his mother? So entranced at a single look that there was a growing need to have even the slightest bit of their attention? He was becoming obsessed.

Theocrites looked down at Telemachus with a soft smile again. “You are so sweet, are you sure your parents and your wife won’t mind?” he asked.

Telemachus tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, feeling like his hands just had to do something. The other held onto the edge of his chiton. “My parents understand the importance of Xenia, and I am unmarried.” Theocrites thought he was married, even if he was a bit young. Did that mean he thought he was attractive or charming enough to be married?

Theocrites cocked his head, an amused smile on his lips. “Not married? Is there a reason as to why? I am sure you have women fighting for your hand at this point.”

Telemachus blushed. He had never had so much attention from such an attractive man before, nowhere near it in fact (Some of his mother’s suitors had been at least half as attractive, but never had he wanted their disgusting attention). “I have been on a few dates with women, but I have recently realised my affection turns much more towards men.” Was this flirting? Would he consider it flirting?

Theocrites leaned closer, and Telemachus was torn between wanting to lean in and pull away. He was just close enough that he could smell him. He smelled of olive oil, but the scent of sea salt was undeniable. When did the common scent of the endless ocean begin to feel so exotic? “Men? We seem to have more in common than I thought.”

“Is that alright with you?” he asked rather dumbly. The attention of a hot man and he is losing all he spent years refining. Athena would be disappointed in him in so many ways, had she been around at all since his father’s return.

Theocrites gave a chuckle, deep and warm. “I would say I am more than okay with it, Telemachus of Ithaca.” He spoke Ithaca in a different tone, his voice getting darker. Telemachus noted this as flirting.

“How so?” he pushed. Perhaps he would not have to put off the marriage he wanted, or at least he could dream of such.

Theocrites pulled away, and Telemachus felt his cheeks cool slightly. “It means we should get to know each other better. I knew when I set my eyes on you that you were just the person to ask. I think we could strike up a friendship here, maybe even more,” he drawled. His voice was so confident yet casual. Telemachus was not the type to find ‘casual’ as his type, preferring a scholar, but when such a man walks into your life, you can make a few exceptions.

“I think I would like that as well,” Telemachus answered, trying to mimic the casual tone of his voice. It was hard, especially when he was so busy focusing on the ‘something more’ that was suggested.

Theocrites smile became dazzling again, like the sun hitting the beach waves. “Then I think that is settled. Why don’t you lead me home? It would be nice to see where the prince lives, and what kind of place raised such a man. Perhaps the people as well, your parents sound quite interesting.”

Telemachus nodded, not trusting his words for much longer, before leading Theocrites off to his home. He had to tell himself several times to not hold his hand to guide him. He was beside an attractive man who wished to get to know him, his family was in one piece, and the ocean was the calmest he had ever seen it. Today was a good day.

Athena, off on Olympus as she wonders if leaving the Ithacan royal family alone was truly the best idea, tries not to groan as her father enters. “Athena dear, I have a question,” he states. When it’s not a question, it is a demand, neither good.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Have you any idea where Poseidon has run off to? Hera is tossing pots around because he missed this decade’s sibling time,” he asks. Athena wasn’t even aware they had such meetings, but it does make her awfully curious as to why the men in their family liked to anger Hera so much.

“I don’t keep track of Poseidon’s every move,” she answers. Not anymore at least, not since back when Pallas was alive, and she found her log scroll on all his whereabouts and called it a ‘Major bummer’, to which Athena asked what a major bummer was and promptly never touched the log scroll again. “Have you checked the ocean perhaps?” Knowing her father, he would forget to check the place he goes the most.

Her father frowned. “Of course we have. I asked Iris to find out, and Amphritite said he doesn’t plan to come home for a while and thought he was up here.” This causes Athena to raise a brow. Not even Amphitrite knows her husband’s whereabouts?

“Well, if I get a lead I shall tell you. Perhaps check with Helios next? Even if he hasn’t seen him, he’ll find the gossip eventually.”

Zeus scoffed as he left, grumbling about how she underestimates him and of course he has checked with him. She is pleased to have him out of her space. 

Thinking of Poseidon makes her wonder about her favourite royal family yet again. She should check eventually to make sure he is still holding back on sending too harsh of waves to their shore. While stabbing Poseidon was a necessary action to get home, Athena knows it will take several generations for Poseidon to get over such actions. She just has to hope that Poseidon doesn’t do anything rash, as Odysseus was just racking up more and more reasons for him to be angry. 

Odysseus was a mess, even if she loved him like the child she had never thought she would wish for, so she was at least happy that his son was better, and knew better than to get mixed up with the God of tides. At least she didn’t have to worry about him.

Now, where did she leave that log scroll? Once he returns, she has a new reason to start it up again.

Chapter Text

The attention from Theocrites was addicting. He had moved into the palace a week ago, and the charm of the man had yet to become familiar. 

Telemachus was becoming more and more certain that he was purposefully being so attractive, so charming, so sexy. There was no other explanation for how he was acting around Telemachus, a way he didn’t act around Telemachus’ parents, the servants, or the one other guest they had during the week.

The first instance was when they had ended up in the library at the same time. Telemachus had almost given up on his choice to read when he found him in there, either to just stare or to leave and not embarrass himself, but Theocrites soon got him into conversation. 

“I knew I would find you here,” he answered as he watched Telemachus step inside. He was drawn across the seating with a scroll in hand. His casual behaviour was becoming more and more attractive and Telemachus began to wonder if there was something wrong with his  brain, for not caring surely couldn’t be that attractive to someone.

“Oh truly?” he tried to answer just as casually. “What gave you that guess? I don’t believe I have mentioned my bookish tendencies to you.” He felt as though his words were lacking the flirtatiousness that Theocrities did, even as he tried to make them sound so.

Theocrities pulled himself up and closed his scroll. “Your speech tells me a lot about you. Never before have I met a man that uses words the way you do.” That would explain why his words never felt as casual as when Theocrites spoke them. “It makes you yourself, and I like that about you.” Telemachus couldn’t help but focus in on the ‘like’ part. Theocrites really was driving him insane in all the best ways.

“I find the way you speak intriguing as well,” Telemachus muttered as he looked away. Who even says that? “Continue on with your reading, I shall go find myself a scroll.” He quickly walked over to the shelf, focusing on the scrolls rather than Theocrites. 

He looked through several scrolls, trying to find one he had not read in a while, and became a little lost in thought until he heard a shuffling, and suddenly a weight was at his back. He squeaked embarrassingly at the touch, and it didn’t take more than a second to notice it was Theocrites who was at his back. He covered his whole back, which he tried not to think about too hard. His teenage exploration had been put to a halt by the suitors, but he certainly did not want to start it up again in front of Theocrites. 

“Ah, sorry, I hadn’t realised I was making you so uncomfortable,” Theocrites spoke as he pulled back. “I had just finished my scroll and needed to put it back where I found it. I thought it wouldn’t be too much of an issue considering how small you were. I was able to put it back even with you standing there. But I should have thought more about your comfort.”

Telemachus was trying very hard to think properly, and focus on a response. “No, no, it is fine, truly,” he ended up getting out. “Do not worry about me, it is true, I am… Small.” Theocrites was just complimenting his way of words and now here he is squandering such beliefs. At least it was not a lie, that would be worse. He was at least taller than his father, although not by much, and it wasn’t hard to be so. He was certainly far shorter than most men his age, and could match up in height to most women of the island.

Theocrites smiled at him, as charming as ever. “You are,” he answered quite teasingly. “It is very cute.” Telemachus knew his face flushed the moment the word ‘cute’ was out. This caused Theocrites to chuckle. “But then again, most of you is cute.” 

Theocrites did not comment on his reddening state and soon left, and Telemachus spent the time he had planned to spend reading trying to calm down instead. Theocrites would be the death of him.

Later, when he was looking at the shelf again, he noticed that the scroll he put back was one of the few they had on Poseidon, which did not go on one of the many Athena shelves. He must have planned it!

Then there was the next incident.

“Telemachus, do you know where Theocrites has gone to?” his mother asked at breakfast. Theocrities had usually shown up a little late, but it was almost over and he was still not here.

“Perhaps he slept in?” he answered. He didn’t yet know his sleeping pattern, as that would be a bit too creepy, so perhaps he liked to sleep in typically.

“How about you go see if he is still asleep?” his father asked. “The servants are a bit busy, so it would be good if you went.” His father had been oddly suspicious of Theocrites the first day he arrived, not letting him out of his sight, but the very next morning he was more than supportive of the man. An odd change of heart, but not one he hadn’t seen before.

Telemachus nodded, standing up. “I can do that,” he answered. If it got him another chance to talk to the man, he saw no point not to.

He was in the closest guest room, as there was no need to have them full now that their previous inhabitants were sent to the Underworld. They had originally put the least violent in the closest ones, so it would be neat for Theocrities. What kind of environment had he turned it into? He knocked on the door as he wondered. Perhaps he would get a chance to look.

“Who is it?” he heard from beyond the door.

“It is Telemachus,” he answered. 

There was some shuffling, and Theocrites called out again. “Come in!” Seems like he would get a chance to see.

Telemachus opened the door, eyes immediately finding Theocrities, and the sight caused him to jump and scream. He had expected that the shuffling was him putting on clothes, but he was still holding the chiton fabric, and he was otherwise nude. It wasn’t that this was the first time seeing another man nude, it was rather common in Greece, but Ithaca was a far more prude kingdom than most other places, so seeing people you hadn’t known for very long was oddly sexual to Ithacans. 

There was so much bare skin, and Telemachus did his best to not let his gaze fall downwards. He failed momentarily before forcing himself to look at Theocrites face, half confused and half amused. The gods must have known Theocrites would show himself to Telemachus at some point, having given him large proportions that fit all too well into Telemachus’ peculiar tastes. 

“Telemachus, are you alright?” Theocrites asked with a tilt of his head, slowly putting on his chiton. Too slowly.

Telemachus flapped his hand in an attempt to cool down his cheeks. “I- Yes, I am,” he stumbled. “I was just not expecting to find you in the nude. It isn’t very common practice to show yourself to others nude in Ithaca.” His father had created a scandal just a year earlier for killing the suitors naked, somehow being criticised more for being naked than the suitors ever got for threatening murder and rape.

Theocrites hurried to cover himself now, although he still smiled. “Sorry about that, I had no idea,” he answered. He got properly dressed and continued. “Ithaca has been a point of interest for me for a while, but that specific piece of wisdom must have avoided me.”  He cocked his head. “Will you forgive me?” he asked.

Telemachus found himself nodding before his sentence was even finished. It was just a minor cultural difference, nothing wrong. And he would be lying if he said he was upset at the view. “I shall. You don’t have to worry, I would just recommend learning and not doing it again in front of someone worse.”

Theocrites met his words with a grin, dark and charming. “Don’t worry, it can be our secret.” He liked the idea of them having a secret. 

The final instance was likely the least odd, but it still caused his heart to sore. 

Being outside at this time of year was a joy, but for once Telemachus was avoiding the beach. The tides had been so random as of late, switching between absolute stillness and harsh waves, that most people avoided the beach this past week, so Telemachus had decided to join the families of Ithaca in an open spot in the forest, where he spent his time reading while listening to the people around him. It was a soothing activity. 

“I thought I would find you here,” a familiar voice spoke to him. He gazed up to find Theocrites staring at him. He could hear a few young ladies whispering about him, which made him feel rather embarrassed to have his attention on him.

“Were you out for a stroll?” Telemachus asked. Even with the back of his head blocking out the sun, he was still so attractive that he couldn’t help but just gaze upon his face.

Theocrites nodded. “I’ve been trying to find somewhere to live still. As lovely as your family has been, I still need to get out on my own eventually.” He cocked his head with a smile, allowing a little bit of sun through. “It’ll be a shame not to have you around, a space to my own can’t beat a pretty face.” 

Telemachus found himself blushing, as he usually did around Theocrites. He did his best to ignore the whispering of girls. “I’ll miss having you around as well,” Telemachus managed to mutter. His response could have been much better, and he wanted to pretend to read to act like he wasn’t embarrassed but the words on his scroll were still blocked out by shadow.

Theocrites didn’t stop smiling. “We’ll just have to make sure to meet up regularly. You want to keep seeing me, right?” He could die happy if he saw this regularly.

“I would like that,” he managed to answer. “It has been fun to have you around.” As attractive as he was, and how often that destroyed his brain cells, Theocrites gave him a lot of attention, attention he would like to keep having.

Theocrites kept giving him that charming smile. All the brain cells lost were worth it to keep getting that smile. Ignore that the statement was likely made due to the previously lost brain cells. 

“Will you be sticking around?” Telemachus asked. He briefly thought about looking around and seeing what else people thought of Theocrites being here, but the whispers were enough to know there were likely glares in his direction.

Theocrites nodded. “May as well stick around until you go home.”

Telemachus meant to move slightly so Theocrites could sit next to him, but too soon, Theocrites had moved downwards and laid back, his head in Telemachus’ lap. Telemachus was blushing even more, and Theocrites just smiled up at him. “Continue reading, I am comfortable here. I could use a nap.” He then closed his eyes, feeling no need to move.

Looking up at the probable glares was definitely a bad idea, so Telemachus tried his best to focus on the words on his scroll. It didn’t do much good, other than blocking out most of the whispers and letting him focus on something other than the head in his lap, as the words were practically just scribbles on the page, and Theocrites must have known he was failing, as he chuckled in his lap. Perhaps he should have risked the beach today, where the waves oddly matched up to Theocrites’ chuckle.

Chapter Text

“The waves really have a mind of their own these days,” his mother murmured as their family stood on the balcony.

“I haven’t seen waves this bad since Poseidon’s storm,” his father added.

Telemachus hadn’t realised waves could get this bad without a storm. There had been no rain lately, so little that the farmers were becoming worried and the island had been advised to pray to Zeus for rain, so waves that were so big that they were crossing well over half the beach every time was worrisome. Ithaca, as an island, loved its beautiful beaches, and people had been complaining all day that they weren’t able to visit, as had been the case for the past month, as the waves were always a hassle.

“I wonder if this is a case of Poseidon’s anger,” Telemachus brought up. He had been quite surprised that after getting stabbed Poseidon had made no efforts to make things difficult for Ithaca. 

“No, Poseidon has moved on,” his father answered easily. His father had been strange lately, especially when talking about the tides and Poseidon and Theocrites, but perhaps it was just the stress of being king again.

His mother sighed. “I say we move past this difficulty with Poseidon and pray to him to help us. Our shores haven’t been okay for a long time.”

His father grumbled, a normal response for once. “Okay, let us think of a speech to tell Ithaca that they should also be upping their prayers to Poseidon,” he responded. They left to go do what they needed, his father placing a hand on his shoulder for a moment before squeezing and leaving. He was just left to look at the climbing waves.

Telemachus wished he had the answers, as he always did. If there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing something. He hated not knowing how to fight, he had hated not knowing where his father was, and he hated not knowing the solutions to problems. He sighed as he gripped the rail. Perhaps if he were braver he could find a way to talk to Poseidon and get the answers that they needed.

“I thought you liked the beach?” he heard a new voice speak beside him. “What’s got you glaring at the tides that way?” He looked over to see Theocrites standing beside him, leaning on the railing. Over the past month he has gotten a bit better at being around Theocrites. He could be in the same space as him without turning into a blushing mess, but that soon ended whenever he began to shamelessly flirt with him. It had long been clear that he was flirting, and yet nothing was ever said. His parents didn’t even say anything, even when they could clearly see it as well.

“I do like the beach,” Telemachus spoke mournfully. “But it is so rarely safe to go there these days. You can see the tides, can you not? Just yesterday they weren’t moving at all, but now they could topple even the strongest men.” It was such a shame the waves started to act up so soon after Theocrites arrived, but at least they had waited until after he arrived. He didn’t want to think about Theocrites being trapped at sea in such a condition.

Theocrites hummed in response. “I see what you are talking about,” he answered. The two stood in silence for a few minutes. It had been a long time since Telemachus had felt trapped, but the ocean which had once been such a solace to him had trapped him inside the shores. Going near the beach spelled injury and uncertainty these days, and he didn’t know when they would end. 

Soon, Theocrites spoke again. “I say we go out there anyway,” he spoke with a scary amount of certainty.

Telemachus whipped his head around to stare at Theocrites, who was staring at him with his too-charming smile. “You cannot be serious,” he answered. “Do you not see the waves? They could kill us.” 

Theocrites just kept smiling. “Have faith in me. I am sure that the moment we approach, Poseidon will take mercy on us and allow us to have some fun on the beach.” The words were idiotic, hopeful without a true thought, but Telemachus embarrassingly wanted to see if they were true. Theocrites was just far too charming, and the month surrounded by him has made him far too eager to know what kind of ‘fun’ they could get up to on a beach that no one dared go to these days.

Telemachus looked at the beach once again, with its wild waves, and looked back. “I am not stepping onto the beach in that condition, but I will approach, and if you are right and it dies down, then I will step onto th beach.”

Theocrites lit up at his answer, and grabbed a hold of Telemachus’ hand, causing him to blush as he was dragged off the balcony and through the halls. “It will all work out, and you can spend some time on the beach, I promise,” he repeated.

Telemachus was having a hard time thinking when he was rather focused on how warm and large Theocrites hands were. “You are certainly sure of this,” he stated.

Theocrites chuckled. “I know when I am right, even for strange things like this. I knew I had to ask you for help, didn’t I? I certainly couldn’t let a man like you out of my grasp.” If Theocrites kept flirting with him, he could get Telemachus to agree that up is down. He still didn’t understand why Theocrites had chosen him to flirt with, especially since after a month he was still too scared to bridge the gap and flirt back. 

The two left the palace, and as they approached the beach, Telemachus wondered just how sure Theocrites could truly be about this. It was a ridiculous idea, as the last time waves this bad disappeared from their shore it required his father to stab Poseidon with his own trident. How could it possibly work?

Soon, they reached the edge of the sandstone that overlooked the beach, and the waves almost lapped at their toes. Telemachus sighed, upset despite all that the waves didn’t die down, but as he was about to ask for them to go somewhere else, the waves paused for a few moments, before slowly returning to something normal. They hadn’t had normal for a while.

Theocrites grinned down at him. “I told you it would be fine.” Telemachus was still in shock that it had worked, and barely heard him. He barely noticed how Theocrites had jumped down onto the beach, and only came to when arms wrapped around his waist, and he was hoisted off his feet and down onto the sand.

“Hey!” he shouted, gripping onto Theocrites arms. Today was truly becoming too much.

Theocrites chuckled. “Sorry, you were a little out of it so I thought I’d help you.” He removed his arms from around Telemachus, making him almost whine, and grabbed onto his hand again, dragging him to the ocean. “Come on, it’ll be safe, you don’t have to worry.” He had been right the first time, so why not trust him again?

The two untied their sandals, tossing them to the side as they ran around the beach, kicking up sand and water. It was the most fun he had in a while, being allowed back on Ithaca’s most fun filled space, now sharing it with a man he had become awfully attracted to. Theocrited looked perfect in the ocean, like he was meant to be there. His cheerful expression remained so, but had a sense of peace, like he knew he had everything he needed. Telemachus could stay here forever, in the company of just Theocrites, the beach being all they needed.

It was almost a shame when people began to realise that the beach was safe, for certainly if the prince and his friend(?) were there, anyone could be there. Telemachus frowned as they stared down at the two, shock on their faces as they realised the beach was safe. Theocrites got a little closer and chuckled, perhaps happy that they would be surrounded by more people, as he had come from a far more populated place. Telemachus tried to push down his jealousy for him.

But then came the confusion. A woman walked down the stairs, smiling and giggling, and then began to scream as she was doused and pulled onto the beach by one of the biggest waves he had seen yet. She scrambled up the stairs again cursing and shouting and dripping, but that didn’t stop others from attempting at getting the same fate. What was oddest is that the waves never dared go after Telemachus and Theocrites. 

“Think they will stop trying any time soon?” Theocrites asked as he watched a man try and squeeze out his chiton.

Telemachus frowned. “I think this is a sign that we should go back to town. I don’t think it’s safe.” People were staring at them, glaring and confused as to why they were safe. Telemachus didn’t feel safe.

Theocrites grabbed his arm as he tried to step away. “No, let’s stay. Poseidon wouldn’t dare hurt you,” he spoke. 

Telemachus didn’t stop frowning. “Why do you say these things with such confidence? And how is it me that keeps us safe?” It was ridiculous to even try this. He should know better than to believe pretty boys with stupid ideas.

Theocrites expression changed. It was more charming, flirtier, almost darker in a sense. “Have you seen yourself? I think it is a miracle that you don’t have gods fighting over you. If I were Poseidon, I wouldn’t dare hurt a beauty such as you.”

Telemachus couldn’t help the blush that coated his cheeks at such words. Theocrites was becoming more shameless in his flirting, and he wondered just how confident he was in his statement that he would come here to be with him all alone.

“I don’t think it would matter all that much,” he found himself answering. If they hadn’t been part of his life yet, they wouldn’t bother.

Theocrites grinned. “You’re right, it wouldn’t matter.” He leaned closer, wrapped his arms around his waist. “Because you are mine, and I will always be the one to have you.” His voice truly was dark, and Telemachus had to stop his legs from wobbling.

“I am yours?” he asked. Had Theocrites assumed they had been courting this whole time? Although, he wouldn’t really mind being his. He would rather want it in fact.

“Yes,” he stated simply. “Was that ever something you questioned?” Not truly, since he first met him. There was always a part of him that was going to belong to Theocrites, whether he wanted it or not.

“You weren’t exactly the most clear about it,” he ended up answering. As much as he would enjoy being his, he wasn’t yet ready to reveal just how ready he was to be.

Theocrites cocked his head. “Shall I make it more clear then?” His voice was low, and teasing, and Telemachus believed he would have said yes no matter what he was implying, even with everyone watching.

“I think you shall,” he did respond. 

Theocrites leaned in and pressed their lips together. Telemachus closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Theocrites neck, allowing the world around them to disappear. Theocrites entering his life ended up being an amazing thing, and he couldn’t wait to see where this next step would lead them.

He could forget about Ithaca’s issues for a little longer, and pretend his family wasn’t stressed, and that the sea was normal and not controlled by Poseidon’s apparent crush on him. That idea was ridiculous anyway. Why would Poseidon ever bother himself with Telemachus?

Life was going well, despite all. How lucky was he?

Chapter Text

Life was quite simple after that. The tides were still wild whenever he was not there, but the beach was not as important as his brand new courtship.

It had only taken a few days for them to find the courage to open up to Telemachus’ parents about how they wish to marry, and his parents accepted it quickly. His mother was excited that he would finally marry, and his father almost seemed more eager than him. It was quite the sight, and Theocrites had looked smug at how easily his father accepted. Theocrites and his father had an odd, yet easy relationship between them, which was more than Telemachus could have ever hoped for. 

The marriage plans were a little much at times, taking more time than he had expected, but Telemachus didn't mind much, happy to be able to have a future with Theocrites. His parents luckily took most of the work from them, as Theocrites just wanted a large wedding, for the whole of Ithaca to see, and Telemachus didn’t care so much about the celebration, rather just wanting to be called husbands. 

After a week of them being engaged, he and his mother were talking on the balcony. She looked at Telemachus with a soft smile. “I am happy you have found someone to marry. I knew you would find someone who would make you happy.” His marriage had become the talk of the island, and was basically all his family talked about these days.

Telemachus grinned. “Theocrites is everything I could want in life. It still feels like a miracle that he ended up with me.” After so much pain in life, it was hard to believe he deserved to have such a perfect man choose him over anyone else, but he would soon get to call Theocrites his husband.

His mother looked off into the distance. “I am glad Odysseus came around to him. I do not know why he was so against him at first, or how he changed his mind, but anyone who makes you happy is a good man in my mind.”

There were still troubles, that confusion being one of them, but they had a lifetime together to figure it out. And he much preferred a strange relationship to a bad one. Theocrites and his father both had ways of charming people into liking them, so it wasn’t a shock at all about what happened.

“I couldn’t be happier.”

After his conversation with his mother, he went to go talk with Theocrites in the guest room he was still staying in. He had offered for him to join him in his bedroom, but he soon understood that it was a bad idea to have him so readily available after Theocrites shared what he was struggling not to do whenever they shared a space together. Such actions are best to wait for marriage for.

He knocked on the door, and patiently waited being allowed inside. There was a call beyond the door, and he entered. Theocrites was standing in front of a mirror, running his hand across his stomach.

“Are you experiencing any gut pain?” Telemachus asked. Perhaps he could fetch him some herbs, show that he could provide. Despite having him, it still felt like he had to show that he was worthy at times. 

Theocrites looked at him, a gentle look on his face. “Oh, no. You don't have to worry about me, just a little magic wearing off.” 

Telemachus tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “Magic?” he mimicked. He had no idea that Theocrites had any relation with magic.

Theocrites turned around to face him, and gently pulled his chiton to the side to help show the scars covering his stomach, and part of his chest. “I get help to hide them, but perhaps the gods are a little busy at the moment.”

There were so many of them. Small slices covered so much of his skin, like someone stabbed into him several times over. He couldn't imagine the pain he must have gone through. The magic couldn't have just been to hide it, it had to have been what kept him alive.

Telemachus stepped forward and raised his hand, looking up at Theocrites in a silent question. He nodded, and Telemachus focused back on his stomach. He touched the scars. They were light bumps, not too different from his magic touched abbed stomach. 

“How did it happen?” he asked gently. “Was it your father?” They had not touched much on the reason he fled to Ithaca, not as much as they should have.

Theocrites shook his head. “My father hurt me in many ways, but he never scarred me. Not physically at least.” Theocrites placed his hand over Telemachus’, pushing his hand a little more into his skin. “This was from a cruel man, who hurt my family and believed he had any right to get away. He was sadistic, a monster, so as much as I tried to give him karma, he ended up getting away after hurting me.”

The idea of such a man hurting Theocrites pained him. He hoped he never got to meet the man who hurt his love so badly. 

He had the inkling of an idea, and gently pulled his hand from Theocrites’, causing both to leave his stomach. He leaned down slightly to one of the higher scars and softly kissed the scarred flesh. He looked up at Theocrites to see an amused, but confused, look in his eyes.

“I will make sure he never crosses you again,” he spoke softly. “I want you to find happiness in Ithaca, and I will make sure that it happens as long as it is in my power.” This was the kind of love that came once in a lifetime, and he trusted Theocrites so dearly that he hoped he did the same.

Theocrites stared down at him for several moments, an unanswerable tint to his eyes. He then donned his charming smile, the smile that made him want to do anything for him, and spoke. “You always end up surprising me. You reveal more about yourself to me every day, and I can't help but want more and more of you as time passes. I tossed myself in the deep end with you, and I think it is clear that I will not be coming up any time soon.”

His words were odd, but Telemachus couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at them. Theocrites truly wanted to keep him. This wasn't just something born from emotions that would fade too quickly. They both genuinely wanted something together.

“I feel the same. You have uprooted my life in a way I struggle to find a complaint in. Being able to marry you will be my greatest day, I am sure of it,” he answered with a smile, pulling himself up to his full height again and stepping up to kiss his fiance. Theocrites leaned down, and the way he kissed him was possessive in the best of ways. To be owned like this by the man he loved was an Elyisum he never thought possible.

Theocrites pulled away. “I hope the wedding comes sooner rather than later. I am not sure how long I can wait, and I am a patient man.”

Telemachus couldn’t help but chuckle. “Patient is not the word I would use for you. You didn’t even wait to ask me out to start calling me yours.” Although perhaps that was for the best. Had it been up to Telemachus to make the first move, it wouldn’t have even happened.

Theocrites smiled down at him. “I can be patient when I decide it is time. I just knew I had to have you quickly, is that such a crime? Had I waited, who knows what god would decide to snatch you up for their own?” Telemachus couldn’t help but blush. That was a constant in Theocrites’ words these days, the idea that gods would want him. It was almost embarrassing how certain he was that it would be a god who would have taken him had it not been himself. It was hard to think so when Theocrites was right there.

“It wouldn’t be any. I had a hard enough time finding someone to marry before you come into the picture. If a god wanted me, they would have taken me already,” he spoke. “You are the one I am surprised they haven’t taken already. Although perhaps Aphrodite has seen my turmoil and has decided to reward me with a perfect love life.” It often felt the only way he could have gotten Theocrites to choose him. 

Theocrites held him tight against him. “You do not understand your place in this world, do you? You do not understand what could bring you to someone’s eye, and perhaps that is a blessing in some way, but know that I have known I wanted to have you since the moment I stepped onto Ithaca’s shores. Perhaps I knew I would have you even before then.” Telemachus smiled at the words, as fictional as they were. He had not met him at those points, so they sounded a little silly, but he loved when Theocrites words turned serious. Everything was so perfect about Theocrites, no matter how he portrayed himself.

“Perhaps we were fated to meet,” Telemachus murmured happily. That was a nice idea. The fates, who make a tapestry for everyone, deciding that theirs will combine, with each line harder to separate than the last. He almost hoped that was the case. He doesn’t know how life would be had he not found Theocrites at such an odd time, with Ithaca changing, a marriage to be seeked, and the tides that listened to no one but his presence.

Theocrites chuckled as he rubbed an arm along his back. “That is a nice thought, although I am not sure how true it would be. The fates would be cruel if they had decided from your birth that you would be mine.” He loved the way Theocrites spoke about their relationship. He spoke of how Telemachus was his, and it made him feel so wanted. Owned, wanted, possessed. He had never thought of wanted as a synonym for the other two, but he would happily take it as one. He belonged to Theocrites, and Theocrites belonged to him the same.

“There is no need to believe you do not deserve me, for I was just as bewitched the moment I met you. It is I who does not deserve you.” And yet their lives had aligned and now they were to be wed. Life had such fun surprises at times.

Theocrites went silent for a few moments, yet before Telemachus could ask what was going on, he started up again. “I love the way you think,” he answered simply. “I was drawn to you for many reasons, and yet it is your mind, the way you think, and your naive innocence that makes me so desperate to keep you.”

Telemachus blushed. “I am not all that naive or innocent.” He was a little sheltered, but his scrolls taught him enough. 

Theocrites chuckled. “I hope that on our wedding night you can show how true my statement about your innocence really is.”

As Telemachus only blushed harder, he thought only briefly about the scars that started this conversation. If Theocrites had been hiding those, what else was he hiding? He was enamoured by the man, but it was true that he didn’t know much about him. He knew of the home life he came from to an extent, and knew he shared a love of the beach and scrolls with him, but there was not much else he knew.

He gazed up upon his face and smiled. It would be okay. They would have a lifetime to get to know each other. They had love, and they would soon have more. Telemachus knew what he was doing.

Chapter Text

Their wedding day was everything he could have ever wished for. Having the whole of Ithaca watch them was barely that embarrassing when he knew that by the end of the ceremony he would get to call Theocrites his husband. It all went perfectly, as though Hera herself had blessed the marriage.

The day stretched on, with ceremonies, vows, sacrifices and offerings to Hera, and an after party, and eventually Theocrites and Telemachus found a time to slip away to the beach again.

The beach at night was a beautiful sight, with the moon glistening in the finally calm waters. It was made even better by the handsome sight Theocrites made, in formal clothing rather than the loose chiton he usually wore. He was handsome in that as well, but he truly could wear anything and look like a god in it.

“I had forgotten how many people were in Ithaca,” Telemachus spoke as they walked along the beach. They would go in the water, but people wouldn't be too happy if they returned with the bottom of their clothing soaking.

“It's a small island, but when everyone is there it really does feel like a lot of people,” Theocrites agreed. He wrapped an arm around Telemachus’ waist. “But I am glad they all got to see that you are mine. I could see jealousy on their faces, you know.”

Telemachus laughed and leaned into his husband's touch. “I am sure that jealousy is directed towards me. You were Ithaca’s latest hot bachelor, you know.” He found it endearing how Theocrites often didn't realise how attractive he was, and how he believed Telemachus was the catch in their relationship. 

“If they are jealous of you, they are jealous of the wrong person,” Theocrites teased. They continued to walk the beach quietly for several minutes before he spoke up again. “I always knew I would find you..”

Telemachus smiled at the romantic words. “I always knew I would find the perfect person as well. You came into my life when I was questioning that, but you proved to me once again that I was always destined to belong with someone as much I have belonged to the beaches.” Being an island prince, he always dreamed of loving someone as much as he loved the shore.

“You have always belonged to me,” Theocrites spoke. It almost felt like he was going to say something more, but decided to end his sentence there. He decided not to question it. Everyone slipped up with words sometimes, and believed they had more to say than they actually did.

“Perhaps I have,” Telemachus answered dreamily. “Perhaps we were always bound to find each other, and to love each other.” Telemachus had never thought he would enjoy such a possessive man before, but the way Theocrites spoke of him like something to be cherished and hoarded was all too addicting. He was sure that if he grew to hate it, Theocrites could learn to dial back on it, but for now he was more than okay with it.

They stayed on the beach for a little while longer, letting the moon shine over them, before they decided people would begin looking for them and went back to the wedding.

They were right. Moments after coming back, people immediately swarmed them. Commonfolk who congratulated them, specifically Theocrites for managing to bag a prince, a few of the other royals that decided to come, typically friends of his parents, and they were the ones to congratulate Telemachus for marrying someone so far out of his league. Theocrites dragged him away from those conversations after the third time it happened, although Telemachus wasn't upset at their words, for it was certainly true.

Eventually, through the crowds of people, his parents found them and managed to pull them aside. Although it took the four of them telling people they would get a conversation with the married couple eventually before they were let go.

“My baby is all grown up,” his mother spoke as she wiped her face free of tears. “The day has come. I knew it was going to happen, but I still wasn't ready to see how perfect you looked up there.” He hadn't seen her this emotional in a long time, but still, she was smiling. She really was proud of him.

His father spoke next. “I wish I could have seen more milestones for you, but getting to see this one was everything to me,” he spoke with a smile, trying to stop his own tears from falling.

Telemachus smiled at his parents, feeling rather emotional himself. “It doesn't feel real sometimes, that I get to have this day and share it with Theocrites.” He leaned into Theocrites side once again. 

His parents turned towards his husband. “I am sorry you don't have an accepting family to be with you here today,” his father spoke. 

Theocrites gave a small shrug. “That is fine. As long as I have Telemachus I can do without that man I called a father. I'm sure some piece of him knows what I was going to do anyway.” Telemachus held his hand and squeezed. Whoever the rest of his family was, before they were hurt by a too cruel man, would have been happy to see him marrying, he was sure of it.

His mother placed a hand on Theocrites’ arm. “Just know that you are a part of our family know, and we have happily welcomed you.” Due to her words, Theocrites gave a grin that Telemachus would have described as dark had he not known Theocrites better.

“Thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me.” He must have been close to crying, as there was a haze in front of his eyes as he spoke. He loved Theocrites so dearly, and he couldn't be happier to allow him into the family he also loved so dearly.

While his mother and his husband were speaking, his father urged him a little bit away, ready to speak to him privately.

“Is this about your odd behaviour to him at first?” Telemachus asked with a tilt of his head. He had expected his mother to be the first to pull him aside without anyone else, to speak of how cute he was growing up, but how much of a man he looked when he was at the altar. 

His father was a little confused at first, before letting out an ‘oh’. “I suppose I was rather odd at first,” he answered. “And I should answer that before I talk of what I really pulled you aside for.”

He was curious as to what he had wanted to speak about first, but it would come with time. “I would like that.”

His father placed a hand on his chest. “I don't know what had come over me when I first saw him. It was just this overwhelming feeling of unease, similar to when I sailed after my encounter with Poseidon, wondering if he would come back and harm me. It was wrong of me to think of your husband that way, or husband to be, but I couldn't shake the feeling off, and I, as ashamed as I am, gave into that feeling.”

Telemachus nodded as he let his father explain what had happened. He could understand his guilt, but not quite why he would feel that unease, although it didn't seem like his father knew either. “And how did you come to stop feeling that unease?” he asked.

“A dream came to me,” he answered. Telemachus found the statement as odd as the rest of the story, but it wouldn't be the first time. His parents had spoken to him of dreams they had that had changed the way they thought, believing them so real that they had to have some kind of hold on reality. Athena had spoken of them as well, how she had gifted such dreams on wary minds to teach them the best.

“And what did your dream tell you?” he asked. 

His father gave a soft smile. “That you would be happy with him. Perhaps it was Aphrodite who gave me that dream, of the tenderness and trust you two would build, or perhaps it was Athena, who understood better than I that you are a man who knows what he is doing, and sending us all off with good thoughts. Or perhaps it was just the fates, telling me not to worry about the future. Either way, you are happy, and I am glad Theocrites can bring you such.”

Telemachus did not understand the dreams still, but he couldn't help but smile at his words. The love between him and Theocrites was reaching even the gods at this point.

“He is the one for me. I know it, and I have known it,” Telemachus answered. It truly was written in his tapestry.

The softer conversation soon faded, and his father soon moved onto his original choice of conversation. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Now, being married will bring upon a lot of new struggles, but I will do my best to explain such things.”

Telemachus nodded. “I am aware, and thank you. What will I need to know? How to stop arguments? Sharing a space? Other such things I do not yet know as a newly married man?” There was so much.

His father nodded. “Yes, all of that, but tonight we have a more pressing matter. Tonight you will consummate your marriage, and sex between men is much different than between men and women, so you will have such things to learn.”

Despite how that conversation ended, his wedding day was beautiful. He joined back with his husband, and embarrassingly talked about what his father shared, and Theocrites made a joke about putting his new knowledge to the test. They could do that now.

Soon, their wedding ended, and they retired to their shared room. They spoke softly, helping each other out of their wedding clothes, and they were both happy with what life would give them next.

So they consummated their marriage, it being everything Telemachus could have ever dreamed of and more. He truly felt owned by Theocrites, like he could never sever their lives from each other from that point onwards.

As he lay in Theocrites arms that night, truly in bliss, he felt sleep wash over him with ease. He was so tired, he couldn't even bring himself to answer Theocrites words. “Odysseus will learn,” he had muttered, moments before he fell asleep. He would have worried, had he not had the most tender of dreams that night, of the ocean calling to him and telling him to submit to his husband fully, that he will take care of everything he could ever need, and could be all he would ever need.

When he awoke that morning, still in his husband's arms, he couldn't help but smile. Perhaps the dream was Athena’s last goodbye to him, a wedding gift to soothe any worries he could have had. He barely even remembered what Theocrites had said last night.

On Olympus, Athena was having to deal with Aphrodite's gossip. 

“Have you talked to the prince of Ithaca lately?” she asked, looking into her mirror.

Athena shook her head. “No, not since I helped him and his father kill the suitors.” It had been so long, and she missed him. But she would not intrude.

Aphrodite hummed. “Well he just got married I hear. You should get him a gift.”

Athena thought on it for a few moments. “No, I couldn't. He will get enough gifts on his own. I can just be happy things are going well for his family.” Better than her own. Poseidon had been missing for months.

Aphrodite sighed. “So stubborn. You should try to not. You could help him if you just looked.” As much as she argued, that was not her place anymore. He would be fine on his own.

Chapter Text

Life moved onward, and soon it had been a month since they got married. It was more than he could dream of, with happy days and pleasurable nights, but he began to fear for Theocrites. What he hadn’t noticed before they were married was that Theocrites only talked to him, and seemed to have no friends. That certainly wasn’t good. While Telemachus was a seldom man, he at least spoke constantly with the young men of Ithaca, and had a close companion in Peisistratus, off in Pylos. 

“You are all I need,” he would murmur when Telemachus brought it up, placing a kiss on his lips. “When married, what else do you need?”

Telemachus had thought of bringing it up to his parents, but it felt like it wasn’t his place to air out Theocrites’ issues. He settled for watching his parents, to see if Theocrites was right. 

His father was more solitude than he could have imagined, his friends having died returning home from the war, or suffering with so many issues they could not talk to him. These days he put himself completely in his work, and when he needed conversation, he either turned to his sister, or them. His mother lived a similar life. There had been so much betrayal while the suitors were alive, most had been shunned or killed, and the remainder were too hard to trust. She began to send frequent letters to Helen, but she was her cousin.

Were his words true? Telemachus didn’t know what to think anymore. He hadn’t thought about a topic this much since he was wondering if his father was even alive. He decided to stop focusing on his parents so much, for if he continued, he would only worry more. He could fill his life with more Theocrites, and maybe these worries would fade. They had to, or else he would drive himself insane.

A few days after that decision, Telemachus woke up alone. Panic filled his senses for a few moments as he worried over where he could have gone to, and if he would return, when he noticed the note on their desk. He pulled himself out of bed and picked up the note, reading it and allowing the relief to wash over him.

I woke up and really missed the beach. Can’t go there, but at least I can look. I was thinking of waiting until you woke up, to spend some time with you and truly be allowed on the beach, but the need was too strong. I hope you forgive me for my selfishness, I promise I will make it up to you.

• Theocrites

Telemachus let out a breath. Theocrites was fine, he was not bored of him yet. He had just gone to the beach, nothing bad had happened. It was embarrassing how quickly he had descended into panic at just the fact that he had woken up alone. He had worked himself up so much, perhaps he needed to do something on his own. Marriage was not just tying your life to a partner, you were still your own person, and Telemachus could do something without Theocrites.

He looked at the other piece of paper on his desk. It was a letter from a month ago, where Peisistratus had apologised for not being able to show at his wedding. Life was very busy for the both of them, so he had yet been able to respond, but that was something he could do for himself. He placed the note down, and gathered what he needed to respond to the letter.

Sitting down, writing, was always a way to reset his mind. He could easily forget about his worry, he was sure of it.

Dear Peisistratus of Pylos,

It is quite alright, I do not blame you for not being able to make it. I shall instead tell you all about it. Theocrites was as handsome as ever, and Ithaca was in joy. I have not seen as much joy since my father returned, so I am sure that the moment Theocrites begins to care for talking to the citizens he will find himself even more popular. 

He should have continued, but his mind stopped on the last words he wrote. He shouldn’t have said such things, it wasn’t right for Peisistratus to know Theocrites issues when he had not stated them himself. With a sigh, he scrapped the paper and started to rewrite.

He ended up doing this several times. No matter how he started, or where he went with his words, he experienced a blockage. Theocrites was all he could think to write about, as they had just gotten married, and yet every conversation about him led to a dead end. He still didn’t know much about Theocrites, beyond his worship of Poseidon and family issues that plagued his life, and what he did know, he felt like it just wasn’t his place to say anything.

He had his face down on the desk when the door opened, and while he was excited for his husband to be back, for it was surely him, he couldn’t bring himself to look up. A hand found his back, and soft circles were rubbed, so he at least greeted him. “Welcome back,” he spoke in a muffled voice. 

“It’s great to see you awake, but you look stressed. Would you like to tell me what the issue is?” There was an odd tone to his voice, almost skin to joy, and he brushed it off as a remnant of his day watching the waves. He must be so worried for Telemachus.

As the comforting motion continued on his back, he finally decided he wanted to look at his husband. He was always happier when looking at him. He pulled back, and stared upon the handsome face. There had been a movement, but it must have been the end of such, as now Theocrites’ face was a frozen worry. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he began to explain. “I am trying to talk to my friend, and yet every time I try to write this letter, I find myself stuck. It feels impossible to continue, and I just want it to be over at this point,” he whined. He hadn’t even made it past the first paragraph at this point, so it felt foolish to believe he was anywhere close to done.

“Let me see what you’ve written,” Theocrites spoke, leaning over to read what he had done. The words felt more like what his mother had said many times, when he was younger and was just learning how to put his thoughts onto a page. It had been so long since he had whined like this.

Telemachus moved the pages slightly, allowing him to see the same paragraph written over and over again, worded slightly differently each time, each one getting a little more impersonal and yet still failing to say what he wanted. He watched Theocrites’ face as he read through them, but Theocrites kept a mostly unreadable expression. Theocrites was often so readable through just his expression, it worried him. What had changed in the month that they were married? Had it been Theocrites, or him?

Finally, after what shouldn’t have been too much time even with the amount of letters, Theocrites spoke up. “I understand, speaking to people is difficult, it happens all the time,” he spoke, pulling away and looking at Telemachus with that charming smile he fell in love with. It soothed him to an extent, but he could not rid his mind of the worry.

“So, what do you think I should do?” Telemachus asked. He preferred to do things for himself, especially when it came to thinking, but when married, it was good to rely on his husband occasionally. It worked better when Theocrites was more used to the things he was meant to be thinking about. “Talking with Peisistratus is typically easy, but I am sure you realise where I struggle.” He had to. It was evident in every paragraph that the problem was that he didn’t know how to talk about Theocrites. Would he offer information to talk about? Show him how to brush past the conversation of marriage into something else? It was hard to tell.

Theocrites leaned down and placed a comforting kiss on Telemachus’ lips. It was out of the blue, but Telemachus felt his body and mind relax at it. He would trust Theocrites, always, to make things better. When Theocrites pulled away, it only took him a moment to answer Telemachus’ question. “You can return to it when your mind is more put together.”

Telemachus, while calm, was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

Theocrites continued to smile down at him, ready to explain what was sure to be great advice. “You are stuck with your words. Sometimes just spending a day or two away from the person, or letter, you are stuck for words with can do wonders. The moment you are ready, and know what to say, you can continue, and everything will be fine.”

Telemachus hesitated. He stared at the paper he had been writing on. Was he stuck with his words? It didn’t feel like it. It felt far more like a problem that stemmed from the lack of things he knew about Theocrites. But maybe he was wrong. He was smart enough to admit when he was wrong, so was now just one of those times? Perhaps even if it wasn’t, a few days to recollect his thoughts would do him some good. He could discern the problem then.

Telemachus nodded as he pulled his gaze away from the scrapped paper. He looked in his husband's eyes, and everything felt just a little bit better. “I shall take your advice, I can always come back to it,” he responded. He leaned into Theocrites. Perhaps what he could do while trying to find the words was spend even more time with him. Then he could get to know him better, and he would stop running into that issue. It wasn’t wrong to want to know his husband. 

“Let’s get you away from this situation, okay?” Theocrites spoke, still sounding too much like Telemachus’ mother. He was just being whiny, he needed to stop doing that. “How about a walk through the forest? That has become very popular these days.” 

Telemachus nodded, getting up out of his seat and holding onto Theocrites’ arm. “Yes, that sounds lovely. How about you tell me more about your family as we walk?” he suggested. He still did not know who that horrible man had hurt, or how Theocrites gained those scars, but it was time he started asking more questions.

Theocrites paused for a moment before nodding, pulling Telemachus along so they could go to the forest. “My father trapped me in a single room for most of my life, me and four of my siblings, have I ever told you that?” he began.

Telemachus shook his head. “No, you haven’t. What was it like?” He had no reason to worry about how little he knew, he would eventually know everything. They left the palace together, and he began to know a little more about how Theocrites grew up. It often felt surface level, like he was carefully choosing what to say and what to keep hidden, but he didn’t mind. Married life would work, and would be just as magical as when he first met this perfect man. Just because Theocrites was still working past the trauma his dad and that monster of a man gave him didn’t mean he shouldn’t trust his husband. He loved Theocrites, and he loved him back.

-

It was a few years later when he thought back on those letters he started, and remembered how he had never finished them, and therefore never spoke to Peisistratus again.

Chapter Text

Telemachus watched as the water lapped at his legs. His head was a jumble these days. It reminded him of his days with his mother's suitors, when he would be on thin ice at all times, trying to keep a balance that was forever shifting to one side. He never wanted to feel that way again, he wanted it locked in his past, but he couldn't help it. It was even worse that he was feeling this way because of his husband.

Things had slowly shifted with his husband. Theocrites was still as kind as ever, but he was far more aware of just how much he was hiding. At night, as they lay together exhausted and sweaty, Telemachus would often try and start a conversation. He would try to pry open Theocrites' heart, so he could know more. Theocrites would always shut it down, with kisses and soft words, and Telemachus wasn't sure what to do anymore. He couldn't ask anyone, this wad between him and Theocrites now. The world had all but minimized to just them. It was too hard to talk to people when he was so worried, and he didn't want anyone else to worry.

"You look even more beautiful when you're in the ocean," Theocrites spoke behind him. Despite his worry, he relaxed at hearing his voice. There was always a peace with him around, the peace of being with someone you loved with your whole heart. He put up with this because he loved him, he wanted to fix everything because he needed him. He would do anything for Theocrites at this point, and it almost scared him.

Telemachus turned his head to see Theocrites move and sit next to him. His sandals were already off, so he must have been watching for at least a bit. It was still hard to believe that Theocrites found him attractive enough to just want to stare. Telemachus could stare at Theocrites for hours, but he thought himself terribly plain.

"You should see yourself. You look perfect doing anything," he answered as he leaned onto Theocrites shoulder. His gaze fell to his chest. After that first time, he hadn't seen the magic fade away. He still didn't know much about it, but that was one thing he didn't think he should push on. That caused physical harm, and he knew he hated bringing up the scars on his body he got when the suitors attacked him. Theocrites was sweet enough to never bring them up, and maybe one day he would feel comfortable telling him the story.

"I was so lucky to land with someone as charming as you," Theocrites flirted as he wrapped his arm around Telemachus. It was times like these that he just wanted to forget about everything, and enjoy his company. He would if he could, but that didn't look like something possible any time soon.

"You could have gone for any prince for that. A prince needs to be charming for when he becomes king," he looked up at Theocrites. "You are charming enough for a prince. You will make a great king by my side." Even when married, imagining a life as king with Theocrites still felt like a silly fantasy. He felt like a teenager again.

"King," Theocrites murmured. Telemachus almost wanted to laugh. His tone was so mesmerised, as though he married a prince yet had never thought about being king. He had heard stories of people seeking out royalty, attempting to marry them for selfish gains. Theocrites wasn’t like that, he loved him so dearly. 

“Yes, king,” he responded. “One of these days my father will just want to live life without the worries of a king, and then it will be up to us to rule Ithaca.” That was a good idea. Telemachus was smart enough to run most things, but Theocrites was charming enough to bring new opportunities to their island kingdom. He couldn’t imagine someone he would want to be king with more. “You will have time to learn more of Ithaca’s politics, don’t you worry, we won’t toss you into the deep end.”

There was a hesitation to Theocrites actions, but soon a frown crossed his face. “That’s a future I will have to get used to.” Telemachus had expected a better reaction. So many people would die to become royalty, to become king, so why was Theocrites acting so upset at the idea? Was this just another layer of his husband he had yet to understand?

“Do you not want to be king?” Telemachus asked. He took his husband’s hand, an attempt to make him feel more comfortable. He had to be this for Theocrites, he would be a failure of a husband if Theocrites didn’t feel like he could tell him everything and have Telemachus accept it with open arms.

Theocrites shrugged, slightly bumping Telemachus’ head. He didn’t mind, he would rather Theocrites be honest. “It’s not something I have ever imagined. I mean, you’re aware of my childhood, and how little freedom I had?” He turned to face Telemachus, and what he had told Telemachus came rushing back. Right. It was all in bits and pieces, but Telemachus would have to be an idiot to not understand that coming to Ithaca was Theocrites first chance of freedom. He nodded in response. “I know people see kinghood as freedom, but I just can’t. I know I have a lot of time to use this freedom before it is taken from me, but I just struggle to feel ready, you know?” 

Telemachus could understand, and that made him feel guilt at how ready he was to accept a future that couldn’t make Theocrites happy. “What kind of future would you want?” he asked. He would do everything in his power to make him happy. He wouldn’t be able to stomach locking him into something that would only cause him distress.

Theocrites let a smile cross his face. “The sea always takes a main focus.” That must have been difficult, with how wild the ocean was whenever he wasn’t there. He had half the mind to follow him to the ocean whenever he asked, no matter how busy he was. “I used to stare at it from my window. I wanted to touch it, to be part of it. Living on an island is more than I could ever wish more, but I want to travel it in ways a king could not. But I will just have to get used to the glimpses, occasional trips and spare time spent at the beach. I could get used to this life, even if it was not the one I would choose.”

Despite his words, Telemachus could not rid his heart of the guilt. He had all but trapped Theocrites on this island by marrying him. He needed to do better. “We can do that. We can travel for as long as you like, we can leave Ithaca the moment the waves allow and we can learn what freedom truly is,” he rambled. He let his words just fall out of his mouth, just trying to say something that would please Theocrites. This is what marriage was, he would make as many sacrifices as needed to make Theocrites happy, even if it meant making it harder on himself. Theocrites would do the same.

Theocrites took in his words for a few moments before frowning again. “Are you sure? It’ll be harder to be a good king if you’ve been away so much.” That was true, but he could do it.

“It’ll be a while anyway,” he tried to argue. “We can have fun in the meantime, as long as you like. We can put off becoming kings as long as you want.” He didn’t need to become king so early. Many kings weren’t crowned until they were middle aged, and Theocrites and Telemachus were far off. They could travel, and once they were ready to settle down, then they could become kings of Ithaca.

“As long as I want?” Theocrites echoed. His frown was lessening, and that familiar relief filled him. “I want to take you far away, show you all the places the sea can touch. Would you let me do that?” There was that possessiveness again. That proved that he was happy, that he could prove that he was a good husband. 

“Of course,” he murmured. “I would do anything for you, I am your husband and I love you.” 

Theocrites pulled him closer and kissed the side of his lips. A soft point of affection. “You really are perfect. You would do all this for me? You gave me a home, became the love of my life, and now you want to share my dream with me? Any man would be lucky to have you, you are fit for a god, not a mortal man like me.” He just needed to absorb his words, and he could be happy. He was lucky to land with such a man, who any man or woman would want as their own. But he wasn’t theirs, he was his. Theocrites did make him happy, despite all the distress. 

“You really think I am the catch here, don’t you?” Telemachus asked. It was better to just try and move on from the pit in his gut. There was no reason for it to be there, they could both find happiness. He was just prolonging his, and even then, he might end up loving life on the sea. He already loved swimming and the beach, so being further out had to be even better.

Theocrites chuckled, and that sound was music enough that Telemachus felt he could never be upset again when hearing it. “Of course you are. You are the most important person on this island, the only one I could ever imagine wanting to have. I am used to being overlooked, but surely you must realise just how important you are.” Telemachus sometimes found himself confused by Theocrites words. He just brushed it up to him not being all that great at flirting. 

“I can’t imagine how you could ever be overlooked, you are simply amazing,” he flirted back. He squeezed his husband’s hand. “But I never will. I will look your way until I die, and then will find you in the underworld.” He would discover his husband, and his secrets, and he would love him despite. It was easy to think he was perfect when they started this whole thing, but he was as flawed as any person. Telemachus just had to show him how much he trusted him, that he truly would do anything for him, and then he can say what is on his mind, tell him what he has kept locked up since they first met. He couldn’t wait for that day.

Theocrites went to speak, but shockingly, a wave flew over their heads. This hadn’t happened before, Telemachus was supposed to be safe. Telemachus readied himself to be crashed by the wave, but the water just rushed past beside them.

Theocrites laughed. “Poseidon is jealous of me, it seems. He should be used to the fact I got you.” Theocrites was not at all scared of the wave, and instead pushed even closer to Telemachus. “I say we make him even more jealous,” he whispered as a hand slipped up his thigh.

“But we’re on the beach!” Telemachus hissed. The water was completely blocking them, but still. 

Theocrites didn’t have the same sentiment. “The water’s noise will stop anyone from knowing. You trust me enough for this, don’t you?” He did just say how much he trusted him, and there was sense to his words.

With less hesitation than he would have liked, he laid down and pulled Theocrites on top of him. “Of course I do.” Enough so that it was starting to scare him. Theocrites grinned and captured his lips in a kiss, and Telemachus wondered just how much he would truly accept if Theocrites was the one to suggest it.

Chapter Text

Telemachus watched Theocrites sleeping face. He wasn’t doing much else, just thinking as he watched his expression still. He had heard his parents say that they each looked more peaceful in sleep, as though all the worries they built up throughout the years slipped away. Theocrites was the opposite. He was usually so calm, despite what held him down, but for once it was clear just how much he was holding to his chest. His face was scrunched up, and he dared to call the wavering line of his mouth a frown. 

Telemachus didn’t get the chance to see him asleep often, being an earlier sleeper and later riser than his husband. But tonight it was different. Telemachus had seemingly grown into an insomnia problem over the last few weeks, and didn’t have much else to do other than look at his husband. He could read, but if he started to go through candles too quickly, people would start to notice and worry. He could handle worrying about himself without others doing so as well.

So, he just continued to stare. He often wondered what Theocrites dreamed of, if he dreamed of the future they had planned or if the past tied him down even in sleep. Now he knew. He was always learning things about his husband, but it was never enough. Had he gotten greedy? Was he a bad person? He had chased after just how attractive the man was, never questioning who he was until he was his, and now he was demanding more. Theocrites may have wanted him because he hadn’t been asking for more than he wanted to give, and yet here he was, wanting to ask those questions. He was a horrible husband, he had decided. He needed to prove he could be better.

Telemachus groaned into his pillow. He was never going to get to sleep at this rate. He couldn’t do anything inside, so maybe a bit of fresh air would do him some good. He slowly got out of bed, careful to not wake Theocrites, and slipped on some simple clothing. He couldn’t be bothered to put on some sandals, so instead he decided he would go to the balcony. That would be clean enough. With a quick glance at Theocrites, he left the room in order to clear his mind. 

One of his favourite parts of Ithaca was just how thick the air always was with the scent of salt. He leaned onto the balcony railing, taking in everything. He could be calm, he could take a few moments to himself, and he could move past this and be a better husband. He had already promised Theocrites they would have a future together that he could be happy with. He just had to do more.

He glanced down at his hands, and saw that his knuckles were turning white. He released his grip. When had he begun to hold on so tight? That wasn’t a good sign, he was supposed to be out here to calm down. He let out a large sigh. There was something wrong with him.

“Are you okay?” he heard behind him. Theocrites. He must have woken him up without realising. He had the right mind to come and comfort him, he was a much better husband than he.

“I don’t know,” he muttered as Theocrites joined his side. This happened a lot these days, like Theocrites could simply tell he was upset and knew to join him. 

Theocrites wrapped an arm around him. “Want to talk about it?” he offered. His arm was so warm when up against the cold air. He gripped onto it, too scared to let go.

“I don’t know,” he answered once again. He didn’t know anything. He was supposed to be a genius, quickly catching up to his parents in intellect, and yet a simple marriage problem stumped him and turned him into a confused mess. Nothing great about that.

Theocrites just held him tighter at the words, and Telemachus didn’t even need to think to lean into him. He had gotten so much for how little he was worth. He would forever thank the gods for allowing him someone so perfect. “I wish I could make it so you didn’t have to worry so much,” Theocrites whispered. His grip was protective, and if telemachus focused, perhaps a little guilty.

“You notice my worry?” Telemachus asked. He had no idea that he had. He thought he was much better at hiding it, even his parents barely mentioned it. Although these days, he didn’t exactly spend much time with his parents. Ithaca’s politics were entering a bad state, and he had been focusing almost completely on his marriage. Once things cleared up, he would plan a day for them, he promised in his head.

“It’s hard not to,” Theocrites answered, grip tight around him. “You always look so distant during the day, and when you sleep, your face is all scrunched up.” That was something Telemachus hadn’t been aware of.

“Your face scrunches up as well,” Telemachus replied quickly. He doesn’t know why he said it. Maybe he just didn’t want more focus on him. Theocrites was the one that was supposed to be worried about.

Theocrites just hummed in response. There was silence for a few moments before he found an answer. “I also have a lot of worries, so I guess that makes sense.” There was a solemn film over their interaction, and Telemachus knew this might be the only chance he got to actually get an answer.

“What do you worry about?” he asked carefully. “I know vague things, but there is so much I don’t know about your past. I want to know if one day you will be able to open up to me about these things, so I can help you, or if you would rather just pretend the life you had before Ithaca didn’t exist.” He couldn’t think of a more straightforward way to put it.

He had expected Theocrites to pull away, or chastise him, but instead he just sighed. “So much,” he answered. “I have so many worries, and I wish to tell them all to you. I love you so dearly, as I have never loved anyone else before, but I can’t tell you what I worry about. Not yet at least. I don’t want to scare you off.” Telemachus wasn’t sure what he had been expecting as an answer, but not that. He hadn’t expected Theocrites to be scared.

“I won’t be,” Telemachus answered as he twisted himself in his grip to face him better. “Why would I be scared of you? You have been nothing but kind to me.” Whatever secret he held, Telemachus could handle it. He refused to believe there could be a darkness within the man he loved when he had shown time and time again he would do anything for Telemachus.

Theocrites moved his free hand, the one not still encircling Telemachus’ waist, and used it to cup his face. It was tender, and not at all something someone who could scare Telemachus away could do. He may not know everything about his husband, but Theocrites had things to learn as well. If he could handle the suitors, he could handle this. “You have so many reasons to be scared of me, more than I should want to tell you.” There was a deep frown on his lips, and Telemachus leaned up to place a kiss on them. He refused to believe him. He would not be scared. “Yet I want to anyway. I came here, and found you, and believed I could just move on with my life, pretend I wasn’t hiding anything. But you are worth changing plans for. You can’t plan for love.”

Even when he was so held down by secrets and guilt, Theocrites always found a way to warm Telemachus’ heart. “You are worth everything,” Telemachus whispered as he stared into loving eyes. “I know you are scared, but I mean it when I say I love you enough to not be scared. The moment you are ready, I will listen, and I will continue to love you. You are my husband, and I am ready to accept whatever that comes with. I don’t expect you to be perfect.” He believed he was, but that’s just what love did. He didn’t need to be. He just had to love him.

Theocrites smiled down at him. The charm of his smile was there, it was always there, and yet Telemachus could see a glint of something else. Recognition? Fear? Worry? It was hard to say. But he knew it would be okay, everything would always be okay with Theocrites. He leaned down and kissed Telemachus. His skin was so warm against the cold air, and Telemachus felt himself warm from the inside. He could never imagine this feeling fading. When they pulled away, Telemachus rested his head on his husband’s chest.

“I’ll tell you soon, I promise,” Theocrites muttered. “You’re right, you can handle this.” They let the silence overtake them for several minutes. Exhaustion slowly began to take over Telemachus. The wait should have been something that made his sleeping issues worse, but now he was finally going to get an answer. He didn’t know what it would be, but how bad could it be? From what he knew of Theocrites, it was likely related to some sort of abuse, or perhaps he would finally learn more about the man who hurt his family and scarred him. Considering he said that Telemachus may get scared off, it might be how he retaliated. He hugged Theocrites a little tighter. He would never be scared of him for wanting justice.

“Whenever you are ready. I can wait,” Telemachus answered as he stared up at him, a soft, gentle smile on his face. “Whatever it is, I will accept you, because you have accepted me so entirely. We will work through this.” Their marriage will hit an easy spot the moment they can move past it. Every couple went through this at some point, and they loved each other enough to not let it get the best of them.

“Yes, we will,” Theocrites responded, eyes a little distant. There was still worry, but he was going to get better. They were going to get better. “I feel much better now. I think I can do this. Not tonight, but soon. You deserve this truth more than anyone.” He gripped Telemachus’ hand and stepped back, allowing the cool breeze to touch originally covered skin. Telemachus didn’t mind though, he still felt a warm buzz from the conversation rushing through him. The cold couldn’t ruin the night they just had, the night that was going to fix everything. “But we ought to go to sleep. The morning is still waiting for us, and it wouldn’t do us any good to be tired for it.” Telemachus found himself nodding. His eyes felt heavy, and perhaps he could finally catch up on all that sleep he had been missing these past few weeks. If not, hopefully he could at least get a good sleep, and then he would have less to catch up on when Theocrites finally let him know his secret, and all worries would be gone.

“You’re right, let us retire for the night again,” he responded. “I am truly exhausted, and sleep is calling for me.” Theocrites led him back through the halls, and the servants didn’t look their way. They had no idea of the conversation they just had, or what was going to change between them. Telemachus couldn’t help but smile at that thought. They were just a married couple to the outside world, and no one else needed to know there was a secret between them. Theocrites truly knew how to make him feel special.

Chapter Text

The days etched on, and Telemachus felt oddly peaceful. Little distracted him these days, as he knew he would get his answers. For the first time in months, Telemachus felt like everything was falling into place. It certainly helped that Theocrites was being even more affectionate than usual, treating Telemachus as though he were a god in need of worship. He made sure to worship Theocrites on return, and despite how often he would act like he wasn't deserving of the attention he got, Theocrites absorbed worship well. Perhaps everything in their lives was getting better, and he could not wait for Theocrites to speak his worries so they could truly move on with life in bliss.

That moment wouldn't be far away, as one morning as he woke up, Theocrites was dressed and waiting. He leaned over to Telemachus, kissing him gently. 

“Morning,” Telemachus muttered. He was finally catching up on all that lost sleep, but seeing his husband woke him right up.

“Morning,” Theocrites replied. “I'll be out today, but can you meet me at the beach at sundown? It's important.” 

It took a few moments for his sleepy brain to capture the words, but once they did, they hit at his heart. “You're ready?” he asked.

Theocrites smiled down at him. “Yes. I finally am. Thank you for being here for me while I got the confidence needed.” Telemachus would have done that and so much more. His life and singled in on Theocrites at this point. He rarely talked to anyone, and the idea of being king one day floated further and further from his mind. He wasn't upset at it anymore, as Theocrites gave himself entirely to Telemachus, and it was only right for him to do the same. They would be happy together.

“I can't wait to hear,” he replied as he pulled himself up to sit on the bed. “Whatever it is, I will accept it. I will accept you. I love you.” He took Theocrites’ hands into his. So much had changed between them, and every day he simply fell deeper in love. He couldn't imagine a life without the man now, despite the fact it had simply been chance that they found each other that day, but he wouldn't do anything different had he gotten the chance to do it all again.

Theocrites gazed down at their hands. “You really are perfect,” he whispered. 

“I could say the same about you. I will wait patiently to hear what you have to say, and accept it like I accept the rest of you.” Nothing could change the love between them. 

“I know you will.” Another kiss was pressed to his lips. “I know you will.”

Shortly after, they were going their separate ways for the day, and Telemachus decided to do some more reading in the library. Some time reading would certainly do him well, and perhaps he had spent far too long away from reading, as when he next looked out the window, it was nearing sundown. Good thing he looked up when he did, for he would have surely missed it otherwise. 

He slipped the scroll back into place, and as he did so, he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned around to see who it was, and was surprised to see that it was his parents. They had been so busy as of late, he had barely seen them, and the sight of them hadn't been something he had been expecting in the slightest.

“Mother, Father, what brings you in here?” he asked as he moved towards them.

His parents smiled at him, but he could immediately tell his mother’s smile was off. He hadn't gotten the chance to know his father like it was second nature, but his mother had been all he had for many years. “We were worried about you. You've been so pulled back lately, only ever spending time with Theocrites, we wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” his mother spoke.

Things were supposed to be better, and yet he couldn't help but freeze up the moment Theocrites’ name left her lips. What was happening had to be between them, and only them. He loved his parents, but they had no part in this. He could betray Theocrites trust when he had spent so long building it up.

“There is nothing wrong, I am okay,” he huffed out. 

His father frowned. “Are you sure? You don't sound okay.” Like he'd know okay. He missed the first twenty years of his life.

“I am!” he shouted, shocking the both of them. “Just because I've got a new life going doesn't mean anything! You can stop babying me!” The words came out louder, and with more malice, than was ever intended, and yet he couldn't stop it. They had barely seen each other, and he had been balancing so much stress alone, he had forgotten how to talk to them.

“We're not babying you,” his mother answered, her usual sad anger slipping through her voice. “Being worried doesn't mean we baby you. We want to know why you are acting like this.” She reached out and took his hand. “You've changed, Son. Ever since you married Theocrites, things have been different.”

He hastily pulled his hand from his mother. She was right, things had changed. “I'm happier now,” he argued. “Don't you want to see me happy?”

“We never claimed you couldn't be happy!” his father argued. “We only said things were different, is it so wrong to worry that our son is acting different the moment he gets married? We've never seen you like this before, and we just wanted confirmation that you were okay.” There was a pleading to his voice.

“Last time I checked, you've barely seen me at all.” Telemachus feels like a teenage boy again, angry at everything and deciding that blaming it all on his father was the only thing he could do. 

“What has gotten into you?” his mother begged as his father was frozen in shock. Truly, he could not find the answer. He had been so caught up in Theocrites as of late, everything else slipped away.

“I’m happy now, so stop trying to get ideas into my head! Theocrites and I can be happy together!” He was already going to be late. Is this why they showed up at this time? Did they somehow know what was going on?

“We never did that!” his father argued. Was he right? He couldn’t really remember what the conversation had actually held. He just remembered anger growing and growing in ways he hadn’t felt since with the suitors. The kind of anger that comes from not caring, from wanting to hold onto something. What an odd feeling to feel towards one's own parents. But it made sense, he argued. They were clearly lying to him, as lying was what brought them together and let them make Ithaca into what it was today. They were just cruel enough to lie to keep their son to themselves.

“You did! I know you did! You hated Theocrites at the beginning, and I bet you never did. I bet you thought it was all going to fall apart anyway, but now that you notice how much we love each other, you have to purposefully sabotage us! Well I’m not going to let you!” Theocrites truly was right. He needed no one else. Not even his own parents had been on his side.

“I never hated him!” his father shouted. Their voices were quickly raising, louder than had ever been allowed in the quiet space of the library. “I had a bad feeling about him, and that was it! You showed me he loved you, and cared for you, and I would want no one more for you!” His father’s eyes became uncertain. “I wanted nothing more for you,” he corrected, now at a more normal volume. “Now I don’t know what I want for you. Just for you to be safe, and happy, and to welcome us again, and I don’t know if that means Theocrites would need to go.” Telemachus was smart, he could tell what was beneath the surface.

“You know we just want the best for you,” his mother pleaded. She was always far better at keeping a level head than either of the two men, but Telemachus wouldn’t fall for her tricks. Just because she could remain calm didn’t mean she had the best in mind for him. “And it’s undeniable that you have changed since meeting your husband. I want to support you, I want to turn a blind eye and let you be happy, but I’m not sure you understand what a happy relationship is.”

“And you do?” he argued quickly, the words coming out of his mouth before he could think on them. “Father was away for twenty years, and you were miserable. Theocrites is here for me.”

“Do not insult your father like that!” she shouted, her calm exterior finally cracking. “You know why he was away! You know how much he wanted to return! Do not lessen our love just because you do not realise the harm of your own!” Never before had he had his mother’s anger directed at him like this before, and while he was scared, he couldn’t help but argue.

“There is nothing wrong with Theocrites!” he shouted again. “Why can’t you just accept that? I am happy being married, he accepts me so truly! Sure, I have had to make a sacrifice or two, but every marriage has that! He loves me, he loves me so much and I am supposed to be on the beach meeting him soon. So why can’t you just drop this and let me go see him?” His voice died down. He was just tired at this point. He had never been an outwardly angry person, and he was never going to be. It was too exhausting.

“We’re trying to have a conversation with you,” his father brought on. “We haven’t spoken in so long, and I know you are angry, but we can work through this. Just let us have this night, and we can help in whatever way you need.” Telemachus didn’t need help. He needed to see his husband. He looked away.

His parents went quiet for a few moments, until finally, his mother spoke up again. “Are you going to choose him?” She was always the smartest of the bunch, with people at the very least. She knew her son best even then. He was all she had for so long. Because of that, he knew she was asking about permanence.

“I will if it's a choice you are making me make.” He loved his parents, but if they were going to baby him and act like he couldn’t make the right choices despite being a man, he would have to learn to live without them.

“We’re not, please, understand that,” she pleaded. He turned back to them. They looked as tired as he felt. None of them enjoyed arguing with each other. 

“Let us help, please?” his father asked.

He sighed. “Just,” he stuttered, “Just let me go meet him.” He needed to have energy to see him. “I can’t have this conversation anymore. I promised I would meet him there, and I’m going to be late, and I don’t want to disappoint him. This is important.”

His parents looked at each other, speaking with their eyes, before turning back. “We are here if you need us. We’ll drop anything for you,” his mother spoke. 

“I know,” he answered. Once, he thought he would do the same, but it looks like that is not the truth. All he knew these days was Theocrites, the person he sought knowledge with the most. What else did he even have these days? 

Without another word, he slipped past them and out the library, trying to reach the beach as fast as he could.

Chapter Text

When Telemachus reached the beach, he was immediately struck by an oddity. Everyone these days knew how wild and unpredictable the waves were, only obeying Telemachus. Theocrites knew this the most, and yet there he was, standing on the beach, the waves still. Too still.

Telemachus creeped down the stares, watching Theocrites back as he gazed upon the sea, painted with the colours of the sun at such an hour. Despite how late Telemachus was, he stood in peace. He must have known Telemachus would appear, no matter how late he would be. That’s how much he loved him.

His feet hit the sand, and he undid his sandals to place them next to Theocrites, which were sitting right beside the stairs. He made his way to his husband, and spoke up. “I am sorry I am late.” He hesitated. “My parents got in the way.” There were nicer ways to work his feelings, but he wasn’t in the mood to be nice. Theocrites would understand.

Theocrites spun around slowly, a gentle look on his face. “That’s okay, I know the type of people they can be. I expected it to happen sooner or later.” Of course Theocrites caught onto it. He knew people so well, and wasn’t tied by the connection parents and their children have.

Telemachus let his gaze lower, to where Theocrites scars were now on display again. The magic was failing again, and yet Theocrites didn’t seem to mind at all. Was this part of what he wanted to admit? He stepped closer and ran his hands over the scars. His skin was cold to the touch, colder than he has ever felt before. Just how long had he been waiting?

He gazed up at his husband. “I am ready to know now. You don’t have to hide anymore. Please, let me love you in your entirety.” He would accept, and he would love, and they would return to bed together so that Telemachus could warm him up in the best way he knew how.

Theocrites lifted his hands to cup his cheeks, and within moments rushes of water flew around them, covering them from anyone else’s view entirely like that memorable night where Theocrites took him on the beach. It was only the second time, and yet he had so readily learned not to be afraid of the water and how it acted these days.

“I have been so untruthful to you,” he began, staring deep into Telemachus’ eyes. There was so much guilt. “I should have been honest from the start, gained your love in the way that people are supposed to, but you can’t change the nature of what you are born as. Not even for those as high above as us.”

Telemachus couldn’t help but let his expression fall, and his muscles tense. He was fine with Theocrites being untruthful, as many do so when there is a past they don’t want shown, but the rest tugged at his brain. He lied when it came to gaining his love? And what did he mean by not being able to change his nature despite how high above others he was? There was an answer, of course. He had read many stories of such. Zeus taking the form of a mortal man to seduce Semele, Aphrodite pretending to be a mortal princess to lay with Ancheses, and many others. Would Telemachus be one of those mortals, trapped inside a story because a god laid eyes on what even they believed they couldn’t have? It all made sense now, why he was so adamant that even the gods would want him, and why the sea began to act the way it did the moment after he arrived. 

“Poseidon.” The name slipped from his lips. That could be the only answer. Who else commanded the sea as greatly as he did, who else would need to take another form to be allowed to marry the prince of Ithaca, and who else would be scarred with trident indents? It all slipped into place, like a puzzle thought about intently. By the shock on Theocrites- his husband- the face of the man in front of him, it had to be true.

As quick as the shock began, his face morphed into something softer. Something too soft for what he had been told of Poseidon. “I should have known you would figure it out. You are brilliant, smart enough that I am forever shocked you aren’t a disciple of my niece.” His voice was layered in a way it hadn’t been before. The layered voice of a god, which shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, for he knew the truth. Perhaps he just wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, like today was all a bad dream and Theocrites was exactly who he said he was. But Theocrites didn’t actually exist.

He existed in some way, but not in the way he wanted. He shouldn’t have been so blinded by love, for had he not been, he would have been able to tell just how similar the story of his upbringing was to the childhood Poseidon had in his father’s own stomach. He had trusted so blindly, believed that Theocrites had ended up in his arms by chance. But no. Poseidon, for some unknown reason, decided he had to be his, and devoted all this time to pretending to be his husband.

But had the wedding not been real? He had heard him say yes, had felt the wedding air all around, had invited him into his bed at the end of the night, and every night after that. By all means, they were married. But Telemachus had thought he was marrying Theocrites, a charming young man with a love of the beach, not Poseidon, god of tides and his father’s greatest enemy. He had so many thoughts, so many questions, and not nearly enough answers. He ought to start asking his questions.

“Why?” he began, not yet pulling out of Poseidon’s grip. “Why did you create Theocrites? Why choose me?” Poseidon had his choice of men and women alike, and had a wife at home, even if that didn’t mean much to gods. Telemachus just couldn’t grasp why Poseidon went through so much effort. 

Poseidon looked down at him, that smile still charming. He hated how Poseidon wore Theocrites smile. “How could I not? I meant it when I said any god would want you. You are lucky Athena and I are the only two who watched you.” Athena watched him? Past tense or current tense? If it was current tense, why hadn’t she stepped in? Was this true love?

“But that doesn’t answer why you created Theocrites? Why make a whole persona just to get under my clothes?” Telemachus wanted to ask enough questions to get him to move, but Poseidon stayed still, ready to answer any questions.

“Because I didn’t. Theocrites was a name, a look, but how much of what I said was truly a lie? I did have a horrible father, I did get trapped in a small space with my siblings for years, and I was attacked and scarred by a horrible man.” That horrible man was his father. Everything added up now that he had an answer. “And even then, I never meant for it to be a way beneath your clothes. It was always a way to get you to love me, when I knew so surely that you would turn me away if I came to you as who I was.”

Telemachus didn’t get much time to focus on his words before Poseidon was changing in front of him. Scales covered his skin, his hair grew longer, his eyes turned pure white, fishlike attributes covered his skin, and his previously red scarring turned golden before his eyes. Poseidon had truly given up on being Theocrites, and was now just himself. Theocrites was truly dead now. Hard to believe someone who never existed could be dead, but Telemachus felt it. 

“How could I say no to a god?” Telemachus knew what happened to those who denied them what they wanted. He would have no choice. If Poseidon wanted him in his bed, he simply would be, and if marriage was what he wanted, then Telemachus would just have to get used to the neverending misery. Although, this marriage hadn’t been miserable. It had been worrisome, and awkward, but loving. This conversation was meant to fix everything and make it so it could only be loving. Was Telemachus a bad husband? He had said he would be ready for everything, and yet he hadn’t accepted Poseidon. Was that promise only for Theocrites, or for his husband?

Poseidon leaned closer, and oddly enough, Telemachus didn’t move out of the way. “That is why I hid myself for so long. I wanted your answer to be true. I needed to know that you loved me for me, not just to please me. That is why I love you, and fell in love long before I stepped onto this island. You are so bright, and so god fearing, and yet you live for yourself. You are so different from your father, you lack all cruelty, and are simply free and wonderful.” The praise began to make his head swoon. Even the charm stemmed from Poseidon, which Telemachus believed so truly to be something unique to Theocrites. Even the way he openly insulted his father sounded sweet when mixed with the way he was comparing Telemachus to be greater.

“You also changed your form because of my father, didn’t you?” Telemachus asked. It would be stupid for him not to, with the relation between the two. “And you changed his thoughts on Theocrites. He had his guesses far before I did, and you snuffed them out. Were you ever planning on coming clean?” 

“It is true, so much of what I did was to keep your father at bay so I could love you.” All of this simply for love felt like so much. “But no,” Poseidon answered easily. “But I saw how it ate you up inside. I was so cruel to you, I tried to be what you wanted, to be the Theocrites you loved, but I soon learned that if I wanted to find happiness with you, you had to find happiness with me. Not Theocrites.”

Could he find happiness with Poseidon? It would be wrong to say he was any less attractive, and so much of what he loved about Theocrites came from Poseidon. It was easy to think of Poseidon as cruel, but he had so often shown himself to be kind, and loving, and everything his father warned him that he wasn’t. And he had openly insulted his father for thinking such things again, and yet this time he knew they weren’t true. As much as Telemachus wanted to fight against this truth, there weren’t many differences that mattered between Poseidon and Theocrites.

Telemachus sighed. “If you want that happiness with me, you have to promise to be honest with me. I don’t care what my father thinks, he is too blinded by his own pride to believe I can make choices for myself. We need to be ourselves for this marriage to work.”

There was a glint of satisfaction in Poseidon’s eyes, as though he always knew Telemachus was going to accept. “Of course. I would do anything for you.”

Telemachus leaned in and kissed Poseidon, a true beginning to their marriage. They could make things work, it was all Telemachus wanted. When he pulled away, the waves were gone and Poseidon was back to looking like Theocrites. Despite his worries, he felt a smile tug on his lips. He had won Poseidon’s heart, and Poseidon was willing to lie about himself just to keep him. His parents were so wrong, this love was something better than he could ever imagine. How could he have ever ended up so lucky?

Chapter Text

It was easier to fall into routine with Poseidon than Telemachus thought it would be. He had already fallen into a routine with Theocrites long ago, and that mainly stayed the same except for his usual anxiety having completely ebbed away. Understanding your partner and knowing there are no secrets between them makes these things far easier it turns out. Such is one of the many good things that come with having Poseidon as his husband.

“Tell me, are the stories about this one true?” Telemachus would often ask as he read. He enjoyed learning the truths about the stories he grew up reading a lot, and especially since he began to read more and more stories about Poseidon. Whenever he caught Telemachus reading one, he was often rewarded with a kiss.

Poseidon leaned over, now in the truest form a mortal could handle now that they were alone in their room. He laughed at the words. “Not at all. Let me tell you the truth.” Despite how all should fear and honor the gods, he quickly found that there were many times where the stories were twisted to make Poseidon crueler.

Telemachus would listen to every word he said, take in every new piece of information and commit it to heart. He had knowledge that was now lost to time, and he got it because he was lucky enough for a god to love him. There had been a clear change since his reveal, and Telemachus found himself becoming greedy. He got all the knowledge, he got the power, he got Poseidon himself, Kronos’ own son and god of 70% of Gaia’s domain. Poseidon actively encouraged this greed, and was greedy in his own way.

He would only occasionally see his parents in the halls these days, their argument having torn a rift between them. Poseidon didn’t like when they tried to make amends, and would tell him about how he would often watch over them, and how they wished to keep him for their own political gain. They would never get to know Theocrites’ true form, so they want him gone so that they could marry their son off to another prince or king, and gain political favour. Telemachus had no issue brushing them off after learning that. He had done his best to protect his mother for so many years, and this was how she repaid him? He had Poseidon at least. He would have been so alone otherwise.

“I do wish you could show your true form more often,” Teleamchus noted one day while they were strolling the forest. Poseidon still hadn’t let the sea normalise, so there were still many different yet popular ways Ithaca’s residents had learnt to spend their time.

“So do I,” Poseidon answered as he held Telemachus’ hand. Telemachus had begun to deeply understand the difference between skin and scale. “But Ithaca would have my head if they knew who I truly was. Your father has been so cruel to me, even when I was just trying to protect my son.” He eyed Telemachus. “And he hasn’t done anything more than try and get words into your head. If he thought I was so dangerous, even as Theocrites, it is really pathetic that he has barely even tried to save you.” Telemachus had moved on from the anger of the whole situation, and just began to mourn the relationships he thought he had with his parents. Were they really so despondent from him? He had given them so much, and he was nothing more than a political token for them?

“I cannot wait until it is time to get off this island,” he spoke. They had been talking about it for a while now, and it was bound to happen soon. Any misery Telemachus once held about leaving his home was gone now. They didn’t care for him, and he loved Poseidon. Poseidon would take him to Olympus, or to his home underwater, or maybe they really would travel the world together. It didn’t matter, as long as he was loved and by Poseidon’s side. “When will that be?” He was perhaps far too eager, but Poseidon had never brought down his eagerness before.

Poseidon thought for a few moments. “In a few days, I can get you off this island.” Telemachus lit up at the words. He knew it was soon, but he never could have guessed that soon.

“What made the change so sudden? I had thought it would be a few weeks at the minimum.” He was a god, so it made sense that he could make things happen quicker, but Telemachus had no idea what was truly going on behind the scenes.

Poseidon smiled down at him. "I think it is best if we leave sooner rather than later. We don't have to have everything figured out, just enough so that you can leave and your parents won't be able to take you away from me." He tugged Telemachus a little closer. Telemachus happily leaned in.

"I am married now, how much power will they truly have if I decide to leave?" he decided to question. He knew he was smart, but Poseidon had thousands more lifetimes of knowledge.

"More than you would ever want," he warned. "They could steal you back at any moment if they learned who I was. The other gods would make sure you were returned to them, and wouldn't listen to your cries. They wouldn't care taht you are better off with me."

Telemachus frowned. Poseidon should have so much power, and yet the other gods would so carelessly take from him. They had stolen away much less consenting mortals before, so what right did they have to take Telemachus away when he was consenting and eager to everything?

"And how will we move past them? My parents will notice I am missing, and they will alert the gods if they truly have the power to do that." The gods knew everything if they bothered to look.

Poseidon just grinned. "I can never take you to Olympus, but there are still magical sights to be seen in my own kingdom. I just have to change your biology slightly so that I can take you underwater." The words sent a shiver up Telemachus' spine. What kind of shiver was that? Of fear? Of excitement? He knew he had nothing to fear when it came to Poseidon, so it must have been a shiver of excitement. He was going to see what very few other mortals ever got to, and it was going to be his new home. Perhaps his forever home once Poseidon decided what Telemachus could be the god of. It was not something they had ever discussed, but Telemachus knew it would happen eventually. Poseidon wouldn't want to lose him after all this effort he has put into keeping him.

"How will my biology change?" Telemachus asked, pausing and looking up at Poseidon to meet his eyes. They shone in a way mortal eyes did not, and it was strange that he hadn't noticed before.

Poseidon lifted a hand to Telemachus' chest. "I can get rid of your lungs and replace them with gills." Telemachus' delight only grew, but Poseidon frowned. "However, you will have to remain underwater for the rest of your life. There is no going back if you decide to take this offer."

"We have already stated that I have nothing here," Telemachus spoke the moment the thoughts were in his head. "My parents do not love me like I thought they did, and I have no friends. I would happily trade my lungs away to be with you in bliss, and I can make the life I was meant to in your kingdom." And if it could happen so soon? There was little to worry about. Poseidon would take care of him and his life would be easy. No suitors, no marriage issues, and no parents who thought they knew more than him.

Poseidon's smile quickly returned, and his hands moved to cup his cheeks. "You really are perfect. You are so eager to trust me, which so few others have ever given me. I was so lucky to have found you, and even luckier to have gotten you. You will love life in my kingdom. The nymphs will lavish you even greater than your people here on Ithaca." Telemachus couldn't even find the words to describe just how excited he was. He knew there would of course be downsides to the whole situation, considering Poseidon had a wife as well, but in all honesty, he would rather deal with Amphitrite than his parents at this point.

"Just having you is enough. As long as you are by my side, I am more loved than any king," he spoke, leaning up and kissing Poseidon. Kings and other great men would spend their entire lives trying to get Poseidon's approval, and yet Telemachus got his love, his attention, his worship, just by being himself and being in the right place at the right time.

Poseidon chuckled against his lips and pulled away too soon. "You already have me, no need to try and win me over more." He tilted his head. "Although I can't say I am upset with all this affection. Once I bring you to my kingdom, I will be indulging in it far more than I should. You'll forgive me, won't you?"

Telemachus smiled. It would be the other sea gods that would need to forgive him, but he would every time. "Of course." With the idea that he would be gone from Ithaca in just a few days, to be with his husband in a kingdom he could barely comprehend, they moved on with their walk, happy.

Athena was at her wits end. She hadn't felt this terrible since she abandoned Odysseus, and yet this time she couldn't explain what she was so anxious over. It just gnawed at her and refused to leave her alone. Everyone on Olympus was a little worried at this point, with Poseidon having been gone for almost a year, but she didn't care for Poseidon.

"Maybe it is because your favourite human is hated by Poseidon?" Aphrodite had offered one day. It could be true, but she knew that Poseidon wouldn't dare try and face Odysseus again. Not after last time. Still, the thought persisted for weeks, and eventually she tired of it, and told herself she just had to check to make sure everyone on Ithaca was alright. Just once. Just one look.

She looked over the edge of Olympus and watched. Odysseus and Penelope were stressed, but not in pain physically. That was good enough. She scoured the island for their son, the one she was brave enough to call a friend. she eventually found him near the forest edge with a man she had never seen before. Right, he had gotten married lately, she had forgotten that after everything. He was smiling at looking at the man like he was the stars above, and even as Athena's heart ached at the happiness he had after she was no longer allowed to be his friend, she was glad everyone was alright. 

She was about to turn away, but soon heard Telemachus say something that turned her ichor cold.

"Poseidon, I can't wait to be free. I can't wait to run away with you." She turned back to the man. Surely, it was just someone who was brave enough to name their son after an Olympian. It had to be, that wasn't what Poseidon looked like. But she was a god as well, she herself had taken a mortals form to help him before. She looked a little closer, the distance of Ithaca and Olympus unimportant for a god. Panic rose as she recognised that smile, and the scars that would be hidden to any mortal that she could see on his chest and stomach.

That had to be Poseidon. Why was he on Ithaca, why was Telemachus looking at him like he loved him? She must be wrong, but she couldn't help but think she had seen exactly what was happening. What was it he mentioned? Running away? She tore herself away from the edge, trying to deal with the sickness bubbling up inside of her. 

What was she even meant to do? She should just ignore it, move on like Odysseus urged her to do, but how could she? She wanted Telemachus to be safe, and he could not remain safe around Poseidon. She forced her feet to move, but she could not move her mind. She would come to a conclusion another day, and hopefully by then it wouldn't be too late.

Chapter Text

Telemachus dreamed of crashing waves and being brought under, water entering his lungs but never hurting him. There screams around him, but he could barely hear it over the rushing water blocking out everything. He stayed still, never fearing his husband's domain. There was a whisper behind all the noise, and his best guess was that it was Poseidon, but he couldn't say it was his entirely. It felt multiplied in ways that was different from a god's voice. Maybe it was multiple people. He would ask if this dream was his doing later.

When he did awake, it was gently, for he had no wish to leave that dream other than to truly see Poseidon. Unfortunately, he was not there when he awoke. That was becoming more common these days, but rather than how it was before when he would begin to worry over Theocrites' disappearances, he simply sat up and looked for the note that was bound to be around. It was on their desk once again, so he got up to grab it and read it.

It's time. Meet me at the beach at sundown once more, and the world you know will be erased for one that only the godlike have been allowed to see.

-Your husband.

A grin found its way across his face. All that Poseidon had been working towards making for him was about to come to fruition. He could never truly grasp just how close it was, but today was finally the day. Oh, how was he supposed to pretend everything was normal now? Well, it was going to be easier, as his parents and his conversations had completely stopped now. He was sure there was a small part of him that was going to miss them, but he would grow out of it eventually.

He placed the note back on the desk and got dressed. He would have liked to wear something more fancy for this momentous day, but he couldn't let anyone find out about what was going to happen, so he just left his room and pretended his day was going to be normal.

Athena was almost happy that she was so easily tempted by eavesdropping. For days the question of if she should step in haunted her, having her wonder if she should go against Odysseus' wishes and bring herself back into their life, but how could she say no at this point? She had forbidden herself to call Telemachus her friend any longer, but he was once her friend. She had to help him. Whatever guilt she felt for abandoning this family would only grow if she did nothing. How did mortals even manage to deal with this kind of guilt?

She knew she couldn't focus on it for long, so she tried thinking up a plan for how she would break the news to Telemachus' parents that he was truly married to a God who planned to kidnap their son this very night.

The hours ticked by in a way that made Telemachus' skin crawl. Every small noise was met with both excitement and fear. Perhaps Poseidon wanted to take him away right this moment, or perhaps someone had found out their secret and planned to take him away before he could leave. He was both relieved and disappointed when it was just children playing, or a servant cleaning up a mess. He tried to stifle his disappointment at having not seen Poseidon all day, and reminded himself of the new life that was awaiting for him. It was difficult though.

He walked the paths of the forest. Since the beach was still a strange place to be, he enjoyed taking his walks down this way. It was a good way to process his thoughts, which he had a lot of these days. Most of them revolved around Poseidon. He loved him more than anything, and he relished in the attention that he got. But Poseidon was a god, and gods were known for getting bored of their partners. Now was not the time for him to be wondering if this was the right answer, on the morning of the biggest change of his life, but he couldn't help it. It wasn't as though he had an option to back out now, for if he angered Poseidon he could harm him in ways he could never dream. Perhaps he never really had an option. How much agency can one have when you are regarding a god?

Telemachus had spent far too long in the delicate ecosystem that was the palace full of suitors, he knew what it was like to have only the illusion of choice. While Poseidon was much sweeter, he too had power over Telemachus in ways he shouldn't. That day he confessed to Telemachus, he could have drowned him if he refused. Telemachus had lungs grown for swimming, but they were no gills like the ones Poseidon hid under Theocrites' dark skin. Poseidon was kind like a god was kind, not like how a mortal was kind. If he went with Poseidon, he would have to deal with that for the rest of his life. If Poseidon tossed him away, he would have to deal with that. He loved him. Even if he didn't know he never had a choice, he had made it anyway.

The day ticked by, and the moment he saw Helios tire of his trip he ran out of the forest, eager to get to the beach. There were people who were looking at him, but no one would think to tell anyone who could stop him. Whatever reputation he gained in these last moments wouldn't matter. He would be remembered as the missing prince. Or perhaps, if he was especially lucky, he would be remembered as a god or such.

The sky was tinting orange by the time he reached the beach, and he almost thought to simply jump onto the sand, forgoing the stairs, but entering this next step of his life injured wasn't the most tempting idea. He scurried down the stairs, watching as Poseidon looked at the sea, his feet dipping into the water with every pull of the for once normal shore.

"Poseidon!" he called with a grin. He had no fear of anyone hearing, Ithaca had changed so much that the beaches were no longer its greatest feature but rather something to be feared.

Poseidon turned around, smiling at him as well. Any fear he felt before was for nothing, he loved him as well. Poseidon loved him so much he would become more human than he ever should have been for him. "Telemachus, you came," he spoke. He opened his arms, and Telemachus happily came closer, feeling them wrap around him.

"Why would I not?" he asked.

"This will be a big change you can't come back from, and not all would be able to face it. Even with how happy you were talking about it, having the day come could have changed your mind," he explained. It was rather reasonable, as Telemachus' faith did falter slightly in the forest. But even as he felt he had no choice but to do this, he chose to do it anyway, because he would always want to make Poseidon happy in the same way that Poseidon constantly kept him happy.

"I am one of the few then," Telemachus answered, looking up at Poseidon with a bright smile. "One of the smart ones who do not care about what I am leaving behind, and only care about the future we may have together." Poseidon smiled at him in a way that he hadn't seen in quite some time, as though he was winning just by hearing Telemachus' words. He technically was winning, he and Telemachus both, as they would get to have a life together that they could not have in this mortal existence.

"You are so smart, you always know exactly what to do. I knew you were the right choice." Poseidon must have been quite excited, as his voice had become almost crazed. He leaned in and held Telemachus tighter. "We will live an eternity together." In front of Telemachus' eyes, he could see skin turning to scale. He was showing his somewhat true form? While people didn't come to the beach in fear, the layout of the island had never been made with fear of water in mind, and there were bound to be people who had to walk past. They were leaving soon, but there was still a fear of being seen that caught on Telemachus' heart.

"I cannot wait," he spoke, trying to soothe the fear. Poseidon had more power than anyone here, and there would be no more consequences. He had to remind himself he loved a god.

Poseidon pulled away, and he got another look at him. Compared to when he was pretending to be Theocrites, the times he got to see Poseidon looking like himself were rare. He had seen him in paintings, and shrouds, and statues, but they were never like seeing him in the flesh. It was strange to think he would get to see him like this all the time very soon. He would have to get used to it. It was a bit of a shame he wouldn't get to see him as Theocrites again though, the form he created to suit Telemachus' exact tastes. He quickly shunned the thought. That wasn't how he was supposed to be thinking about his husband.

"You think a lot," Poseidon spoke.

Telemachus blinked at him. "I do."

"What were you thinking about now?" Poseison asked, a cheeky tint to his voice.

"Things will change a lot for me, and I am not sure how I will get used to it." Or if he would get used to it, but that was a sadder thought.

Poseidon hummed. "You will do just fine. You are amazing, far too great for this island." Despite what he was saying, he wasn't looking at Telemachus, but rather just above him. Or rather behind him. What was the reason for that? He tried to get rid of the negative thoughts filling his head when he was saying such sweet things, but it was difficult.

"So, when will I get to go home?" He called it home, both because he wanted it to be his new home, but because he wanted to get Poseidon's full attention again.

Poseidon still didn't look at him as he answered. "Just a few moments. You have to stay on the beach for a little longer." He finally looked down again. "I still must give you gills after all." His hand reached up and clasped around the back of Telemachus' neck. Telemachus flinched. Poseidon's hands were large, and while they didn't wrap all the way around, it felt like they did. He had to remind himself that he trusted Poseidon, even if having someone's hand around his neck was terrifying.

"Right, gills," he responded, his voice small. The hand didn't block off breathe, but he tried not to be too loud, as though he would dare to do so if he was too loud.

Despite what Poseidon had said, he didn't move. Telemachus frowned. What was going on? After all this time, had Poseidon just suddenly decided he didn't want this? After moments of silence, he opened his mouth to speak but was suddenly taken out of his thoughts by a shrieking voice.

"Telemachus!" He could recognise that voice anywhere, and just as Poseidon's hand loosened around his neck, he used the new freedom to turn to see his mother and father standing at the stairs down to the beach. Their presence made him feel even more uneasy.

Whereas his mother's face was covered in worry, his father's was covered in anger. "Get away from my son!" his father shouted.

Telemachus looked up at Poseidon once again, expecting him to be shocked at the words, and to defend himself, but instead his stomach dropped as he noticed the smile on his face. "My niece has finally stopped stalking me, I assume? I did always wonder if she would ever get over that silly human guilt she had begun to feel." His niece? It must have been Athena, she was the only god who would watch over this island and have a guilt she would need to move on from.

Telemachus tried his best to look between Poseidon and his parents, and managed to get a glimpse of his father attempted to step on the beach. Within moments the ocean roared around them, reaching over to the edge pf the beach and pushing his father back onto the edge. The water attacked his feet, and it was rushing so violently that it hurt, and had Poseidon not been holding him, he would have been washed away. Washed over to his parents.

"Give us back our son," his mother demanded, her voice shaking. As much as he had decided to ignore her these days, now that he wasn't so upset, it hurt his heart to hear. Would this really be the last state he ever heard her voice in?

"No," Poseidon spoke with finality. "You've made your mistakes. You are not above the consequences." He tried to move on from the discomfort in his stomach. This was a strange situation, but Poseidon was doing this for him. He needed to be happy this was happening. He needed to be a good husband.

"I'm sorry," his father shouted, anger pulling away from his face and grief replacing the expression. "We should have done more. We should have listened and tried harder and sooner, to both help you and understand. We just want you back." His heart lightened at the words, and for a moment he was wondering if he should ask Poseidon to give him a little longer to discuss things with his parents when Poseidon openly laughed.

"Why are you apologizing to him?" he asked, causing confusion to fill the space. "You attacked me, scarred me, and humiliated me. This isn't a punishment for ignoring your son. Your family issues are a bore. All I care about is hurting you back."

Telemachus focused his attention back on Poseidon in an instant. "What do you mean?" he asked, his first words since this argument started.

Poseidon looked down at him, that familiar, strange expression reading much less like love than he was used to, and so much more like hate. "I second guessed myself a lot during my time with you. I knew I would wonder if you had caught on, you are smart after all, but I did second guess myself more than I expected when it came to how I feel. Don't mistake yourself, I don't love you, and never have, but you are amusing. I thought it would be easy to kill you once I brought you home, but I could use more entertainment back at home." The words hit harder than any physical hit he had taken in his years. It was more now than ever that he realised what loving a god meant. There were dozens of tales of gods taking advantage of mortals for their own cruel wishes, and it was foolish of him to believe he was ever going to have it better.

He tried to pull himself from Poseidon's grip, but even if he wasn't going against a god, he was never strong. "Let me go!" he shouted, but Poseidon only grabbed him harder. "I will not go with you! You are not my husband!" His parents shouted as well, but he was not able to pay attention to what they were saying when Poseidon was laughing at him.

"You dare deny a god after all you have done? It is too late, you have married me, you have come here, you have made it all too easy for me to steal you away. You never had a choice, do not pretend you do," he announced. The words shouldn't have been surprising, but they sent dread down his stomach. This was it, the last he would get to feel happiness.

He did his best to turn to his parents, the words forcing their way out of his mouth as the water around him rose. Poseidon was not letting him go. "I'm sorry!" he shouted back. "I should have listened! You always had my best interests in mind, and I was foolish to trust a husband more than you!"

His mother was the one to shout back. "We forgive you!" The water was at his waist now, steadily rising, and he knew this final conversation would not last long.

"We will get you back!" his father shouted hopefully. "I have fought him once, I can do so again!" He felt his heart warm at his father's words, but he didn't take it to heart. This was a punishment, Poseidon wouldn't give his father the upper hand again.

Telemachus couldn't think of a better thing to say with the water rising, so the last words he ever said to his parents were, "I love you!"

If they said the words back, he didn't know, as he was tugged into the water entirely, the sand beneath him not there as it once was. The water entered his lungs and pain filled his body. Poseidon's hand wrapped around his neck, choking him further as a searing covered his neck. When he gained oxygen in his lungs once again, he slumped. He had lost. After everything he had gone through in life, the good and the bad, he had been lessened to a punishment, an entertainer for a cruel god.

He had seen many ways of ruthlessness in his life, but this was by far the cruelest. He wishes he had been smarter, that he hadn't been so easily persuaded. His tears mixed into the water, and if he could never leave, neither would they.