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Summary
He drinks in the sight of him now, all grown. He is an adult now, taller than Odysseus. Shoulders broad and arms firm, eyes the same dark shade of his mother's. Dressed in gold and linen, he looked every bit like the prince his lineage calls him to be. Still, Odysseus knows he would have known him even while dressed in rags or filthy from toil. He looks just like his father, from the sculpt of his face to the curls of his hair. His son. His son.
It is all he can do to keep from reaching out and holding him, gods be damned.
Series
- Part 3 of I pray to god it's the kindest thing