Chapter Text
The day was getting older, the sky was getting dimmer, and the sun was dying as the returned king of Ithaca sat upon a hill right outside his castle. Odysseus couldn't have dreamt up a better scenario. He had spent countless nights with his beloved Penelope, whether quietly holding her in his arms to the not-so-quiet hours of passion that he’d later found out that his former mentor had stretched in order to give them the proper time. He’d thank Athena if he weren’t a little flustered at the situation.
During the days, however, he’d spend either in his private quarters, around the dinner table, or roaming the halls, catching up with his wife, and hearing harrowing tales from his son as he excitedly went on about his day. Telemachus had been particularly anxious to tell his father of all the stories he had heard, wanting to get the true account from the most primary source. All this time away, performing the most ruthless acts of violence, and his sweet joy could still look at him like he’d cause the sky to pour out rain. Telemachus was truly the brightest light, not just for Odysseus, but the entire kingdom.
It was here now that that same light was hovering next to him, leaning on his shoulder as both men watched the sunset. They’d made this a habit when both had run out of things to say in the more awkward stage of their relationship. Secretly, Odysseus enjoyed these moments, where he could just bask in the delight of taking in his baby, now grown into a respectful, brave, kind young man, willing to offer his company to a withered, hollowed old soul who’d left so much of himself at the bottom of the sea.
“Father?” Telemachus questioned without looking up.
“Yes, my son?” Odysseus answered absentmindedly.
“When you left for the war, did it…have anything to do with me?”
“Why, of course! I had intended to stay away from it on the grounds of madness, but one of the men sent to collect me almost killed you! Surely your mother must have told you the story?”
“No, she did. It's just…have you ever thought…that you wouldn’t have needed to go to war, and spend so much time away…if you had just let me die?”
Odysseus let out a sound that indicated the loss of breath, staring straight ahead as his vision faded into white, before bringing his sweetest joy into his arms, holding him for several minutes. He then held Telemachus away so that he could look him in the face.
“Don’t ever fancy such a thought, my dear boy! Never for a second entertain such an evil thing! I’d sooner set out on another twenty-year-long voyage than let anything happen to you or your mother!”
“We’d really rather you not,” Telemachus couldn’t help but tease, even as his throat began to close.
Odysseus still didn’t seem convinced. “What on this cursed earth brought this on, my child? Surely you know that your mother and I would defy the gods themselves not to see you hurt?”
Telemachus paused at his father’s words, averted his eyes, and Odysseus’ heart damn near split at the seams.
“I have not had these thoughts for long,” the young man began, “Mother had waited until my late teen years to tell me that particular story, and I did not give it much thought when I heard it. But, you see, I…” Telemachus could already feel his eyes burning, but his father already looked terrified at what he had to go through. It would be better if he did not add to his guilt by showing just how shaken these thoughts had left him. “My entire life, I had wondered who you were, and if you’d accept me as I am, and with those…dogs roaming around our palace, I soon began to think that you wouldn’t approve of me.”
Odysseus only tightened his arms around his son. He was willing to let his son continue, but he’d be damned if he’d let his darling light believe that he’d ever turn him away.
“I kept thinking that I wouldn’t be strong enough, clever enough, stoic enough to be the son you wanted, that if I slipped up and one of them hurt Mother, then you would come home disappointed, and…”
Telemachus took a brief pause and several deep breaths before he continued. “Mother would cry late at night, wishing you were home, and I couldn’t do anything to soothe her, anything to make it better. I spent nights listening to her weeping outside her room wondering if there was anything I could do to bring you back, and when I heard the story of the plow, I just thought that you and she would be happily together if I hadn’t ruined…”
Odysseus had heard enough. He had had nightmares early into the war, and even stranded on Calypso’s Island, where he’d been too late, and his little treasure had been run over by his own hubristic plan. Hearing it from said treasure’s mouth brought back waves of that dread and horror, and he quickly squished his son into his chest, running his hands through his hair.
“My dear son, my sweet boy, my little blessing from the gods themselves, never blame yourself for the cruelty of the fates!” Odysseus capsulated his statement with a desperate kiss to his son’s forehead. “You never ruined anything for me and your mother. When you were born, I swore I would die for you, and every day I have spent with you has only reinforced that oath. I couldn’t be the father you wanted throughout your entire childhood, but I can only offer you what I am now. Please do not take away my chance at watching you grow into an even stronger, kinder man!”
Telemachus’ cries rose from audible sniffles to contracting sobs, clinging to his father with the same desperation that the old king felt. Years of feeling inadequate and frustrated with himself, of premature mourning for the loss of his father at sea, or later when he realized what he’d failed to become, seemed to melt away at the older man’s words. Odysseus began rocking his son, just as he’d done when the boy was an infant and simultaneously whispered into and kissed the boy’s hair. It was a sight that could’ve rivaled their reunion in the blood-soaked halls of the palace.
“Okay.” The prince managed to get out once he had composed himself. “Okay. I won’t speak about myself in such a manner any more. But, understand, Father, that you have brought nothing but hope into my life. Ever since you broke into my home and killed everyone who had ever done me wrong, I knew all the stories about the hero I never knew were true. That I could finally rest now that you were home. And in the moment you locked eyes with me, nothing else mattered.” Telemachus’ breathing slowly evened out, his head down to avoid the sheer weight in his father’s eyes.
“Thank you, my boy. You and Penelope are my entire world.” Odysseus felt the strings of doubt and fear loosen from his chest and blow away in his exhale. He knew that these thoughts were not going to leave his son completely after this, but he would stick by him until they did. He also needed to talk to Penelope. Surely, she must’ve noticed the signs in their boy throughout the years of raising him. They would both help Telemachus realize how loved and protected he was. For now, though, both men were content to hold each other while the last minutes of sunlight left the sky. And as they walked back to the palace, Odysseus made sure to hug his son even closer to himself all the way back.