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Of All Creatures that Breathe and Move

Summary:

Telemachus wakes from a dream, shaken by his thoughts. Pisistratus is there comfort him and his racing mind. The two discuss their lives, cowardice, and what it means to be a man.

Notes:

hi i wrote this when i read the odyssey for school and i was obsessed with Telemachus and then his character arc was becoming misogynistic for some reason like girl no that’s a mamas boy he doesn’t have to be violent or mean towards women to be considered manly

anyway yeah i used “pisistratus” bc that’s how his name was written in my copy and i don’t feel like going through the whole fic and editing it

title comes from the quote in the odyssey, “of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man”

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

I would no longer be just a little boy. Just like my father, I would win my manhood. 

Blood trickled down my hands as I rammed the spear into his chest. His scared eyes met mine, and his desperate hands reached to grab me, to cling to any life he could still have. 

And then he fell, and he was dead. I breathed unsteadily. No one had ever taught me to kill, I was not raised by any father. I never hunted as a child, I didn't have anyone to take me. I barely fought anyone at all. His cold eyes still stared into my soul. I hoped that we would give these men proper burials, so his spirit would not haunt me with those eyes. 

A strong, calloused hand patted me on the back. Could it really be him? The man I am to call father?  

His name is Odysseus. He fought in the great war. He was a great king. My mother loved him. Without him I would not be. I have never known him. 

I turn to face him but there is nothing there. There are no longer the bright, daytime halls of my palace home, but a dark, gloomy guest room of Sparta. It’s no wonder Helen went with Paris, if she had lived in a room like this. 

I am awake now, pitiless, sweet Hypnos has taken him from me before I can see him, just like always. 

My companion to my travels, Pisistratus, was in the same room as I, sound asleep. I was half the man he was, although we were the same age. Pisistratus talked to Menelaus, the Spartan King, with ease, unworried of being disrespectful. Meanwhile, I would repeat every line in my head over and over again to make sure I got it right. I never did. 

He had a charm about him, an intelligent sort of charm. He always knew what to say and when to say it. He knew when to talk and when to listen. And people liked to listen to him. I liked to listen to him. 

I didn’t like how dark it was, so I walked over to the balcony and moved the curtains. It let in the draft as well as the moonlight, but I didn’t mind. The stars were beautiful. 

Once when I was just a little boy, my mother told me to pick a constellation. I always liked Aquarius, so I chose that one. 

“Well,” she said, in a softer voice than I had ever heard her say, the one she used when talking about him , “Did you know that they use constellations to sail? I bet he’s using that right now to get home to us. He’ll be home before you know it, my sweet boy. He has to be.” 

He never came home, but it never stopped me from staring at Aquarius. I thought maybe he was looking at it too. Maybe now as I stare up at the stars, he too is looking up at them. In that way, I see my father every night. A cruel comfort. 

I heard a groan from back inside the room. Pisistratus was awake. 

“Cold,” he said, “Why is the curtain open?” 

He shuffled to get up and fix it but I called out to him, “I’m out here, you can go back to sleep.” 

Pisistratus comes up behind me, seemingly ignoring my words. But not because he didn’t want to hear them, which was a first. “That’s alright, the night breeze feels nice. 

“Why are you up?” He asks me, and he seems concerned. 

“I had a strange dream…although it wasn’t all that strange. It was like other dreams I’ve had before, but also different. I’ve never killed someone before.” I rambled.

Pisistratus thought it over in the way he always did, “Hm. Describe this dream to me.” It wasn’t an order, but a request from a friend. You could always tell the difference with him. 

“Well I was at home, and I stabbed a man with a spear. He died and I watched it happen. I’ve never really seen dead things except for sacrifices…but his eyes, they were realer than anything I know. A hand clapped me on the back, his hand. But before I could see him I woke up. Like always.” 

“Who is he ?” 

How could he not know? 

“My father.” I said, so sure he already knew, “Odysseus.” 

“Have you ever seen his face?” 

“No. That’s why I don’t see it in dreams, I have no idea what he looks like.” 

“And who was the man you killed, with the eyes?”

“I have no idea.” 

“Well so long as it’s not me, it’s not a big deal.” I shoved him and laughed. 

“Pisistratus,” I said, worry creeping into my voice, “How do you…” 

He looked at me, “How do I what?” 

“How do you remain so… confident ?” 

Pisistratus just laughed, “Telemachus, I’m afraid you’ve stumped me! I have no idea what you're talking about.” 

I sighed, “You have this…this way about you. Like you aren’t just moving through life, you're a part of it. It’s like you know exactly what Fate herself will hold.” 

He grinned mischievously, “How do you know I don’t?” 

I laughed again, I almost never laughed anymore. 

“I can assure you I don't, dear friend.” He said, patting my arm, “I understand though. You don’t see the people around you as equals, but superiors. They aren’t. One day you will be a king, same as them, and then you really will be equals. You’re very special Telemachus.” 

I didn’t know what to say. He thought I was special. That I was equal to a king. 

“Pisistratus-”

“Don’t deny it! Your looks have been blessed by gods. You all but tower over me, with the most handsome face and frame. Any man would be jealous of you, any woman would desire you.” 

When I didn’t say anything he turned to face me, “I mean it, Telemachus, you're beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” I mumbled. 

“Do you miss him?” 

“Yes. I know it must be strange to miss a man I never met, never even knew, but he sounds amazing. My mother used to tell me about him everyday, but now…I hardly hear about him. I sometimes wonder if he had come home what it would’ve been like. A normal royal family, with a normal royal son.” 

Pisistratus looks at me, “What makes you think you are not normal?”

“Many things. I can’t hunt or shoot arrows well, I am not a singer or strong speaker, I am not strong or versed in athletics.”

I paused before adding the final part, “…And I am a coward.”

Pisistratus looked offended, perhaps he did not want to be friends with a coward. 

“A coward? Telemachus! You are not a coward. You left Ithaca without any other choice! Would you have stayed had you not been searching for your father?”

For once in my life I didn’t feel like I needed to lie, “No. I would rather be anywhere else. The suitors of my mother ensured that I didn’t feel welcome in my own home. I left to find word of my father, yes, but also because if I had stayed the suitors would’ve killed me. I don’t even know if my father is alive, if any of this has any purpose.” 

“That’s not cowardly,” Pisistratus said, “I would have left too. Do you think me a coward?”

“What? Of course not! You're the bravest man I know!”

“There you go, then, my dear friend, not a coward.”

“Well, an immature boy then.”

“Telemachus,” he breathed, and he was angry. I hoped he wasn’t angry with me. “You are not immature and are certainly not a boy. Manhood is measured in different ways, yours…yours by your kindness.” His gentle eyes and soft face showed no signs of deceit. He must not have been angry anymore. “Would you rather be like the suitors? They measure their ‘manhood’ in stupid things. They are not men. They are immature boys looking for scraps from a grieving family.” 

“But a man can defend himself, if not so with fists, than with words. I cannot even do that. Fate is not kind to me, friend. I can’t even say a few words on my behalf without tears welling up in my eyes.” 

I could feel such tears welling now, embarrassment burning on my face. I turned away and covered my eyes with my hands, pressing in my palms so that the tears may stop.

Never prudent Pisistratus just smiled, like he knew all that was to come. He touched a hand to my cheek. “If you should cry then do it. There is no shame here, and there is no shame in crying anyway.” 

“You don’t understand,” I say, and turn away from him, “You and I are different, you’ve been told your whole life you are strong and all I’ve ever been told is that I am horrid and weak.” 

“But you know that’s not true.” He taps my shoulder, to get me to turn around but I won’t. 

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to lie to him, or really anyone, ever again. 

“Telemachus, you know that isn’t true?” 

“I’m not sure anymore.”  

“Gods, what do those suitors do to you?” 

Again I said nothing. What could be said? If I was truthful of what they had done to me…

No. I would never tell another soul as long as I lived. I would never tell even a god, and I would never tell Pisastrius. He was a god to me. 

“Telemachus…”

“I’m…I’m going to go back to bed.” 

“Alright. Good night Telemachus. May Hypnos be kind to you.” 

I nodded as I made my way back inside to my bed, the cool breeze still blowing in through the curtains. 

It was a long while before Pisastrus came back inside. He shivered and I wondered if his skin was cold to the touch. I don’t know why I thought that, but at that moment I couldn’t seem to make the thought disappear. 

I thought that Pisastrus might have cool, calloused hands, and I could imagine how they would feel on my bare skin. 

I wasn’t…ashamed of the thoughts. At least I knew this much was not completely abnormal. But even still I had seen those men marry in the way Aphrodite approved, continue their lineage, and well, be a man. 

That was something I would never be. And I layed there thinking only of that. Thinking only of myself as what I seem to be, the only thing I could be. 

I was destined to be king of Ithaca.

There is a reason two kings can’t rule. There is a reason that Apollo killed his lover, a reason Orpheus turned around, a reason Paris took Helen. Sometimes love is doomed and it does not matter how much I loved him, it would always be doomed. 

Because I was nothing, and he was…. everything.

Notes:

thank you for reading!