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The two princes had climbed up onto the roof, gazing at the shores of Pylos— the grass, now barely visible in the night; the vast sea, ever twinkling and beckoning; the stars, blinking and shimmering in the night sky. The wind gently sang her song, rushing against their ears, ruffling their hair, providing that content coolness in the warm night.
Telemachus had never been so at peace before. Not since the suitors had arrived when he was merely a teen.
He couldn’t help but glance at the Pylian prince at his side. Peisistratus. Son of Nestor, prince of Pylos. He had been the most… welcoming, and friendly, guide and acquaintance since Telemachus’ arrival on the island of Pylos, in search of his father.
His father, whom his mother adored, weeping every night in her chambers, praying to whatever divine gods and goddesses for his return— her seemingly perfectly composed and calm composure in front of the pigs that spoiled his father’s halls seemed to faintly crack at the edges, her fingers moving fervently over the same threads, sitting by the same loom, night after night.
Three years, and only three, did her masterfully skilled trick last. Until some word managed to get out— a snake in a den of wolves, hissing her way to whatever twisted connections she had.
He had left in secret, guided by his divine mentor— Athena, the gray eyed goddess of war, to different islands, in desperation to get even a sliver of hope of his father’s survival. Perhaps he was already dead and gone, left in the hands of Hades in the fields of asphodel, wandering forever, yearning and searching for a love that wouldn’t join him until years later.
Peisistratus.
Pei-si-stra-tus.
Each word, each syllable formed so delicately in his mind, each sound pronounced so clearly as the name bubbled on his lips, fighting the urge to call out, just to taste that unfamiliar sweetness when he uttered his name.
He glanced at Peisistratus, realising his gaze had strayed just like his thoughts. Those soft auburn curls that seemed to flutter in the wind, green eyes that seemed to hold more wisdom than the goddess herself, and yet somehow always filled with wit or optimism. The moonlight accentuated his features, adding that gentle light that seemed to make him glow, as if he was a god himself.
He thought the prince looked beautiful.
Unfamiliar feelings stirred in his heart, and he could feel his chest tighten, just like how it had been every time he so got a look from Peisistratus, or when their hands brushed while they chatted and laughed in his chambers, or when he just did anything-
He was no fool. He had prayed to the goddess Aphrodite herself enough times to understand what was happening. Was this another one of the gods’ twisted ways of entertainment, to have him turn his heart to someone he’d never have?
Well, mortals were merely pawns in whatever games the gods played. He might as well make the most of it and savour the sweetness while it lasted.
“Telemachus.”
Te-le-ma-chus.
Each syllable pronounced clearly, with that touch of carefulness, as if it was something precious to be adored. Not slurring over, not speaking in a rush, or in any commanding tone or friendly or hostile one.
Just nice.
Just pleasant.
“… I was thinking, just of these- you’re not listening, are you?” Peisistratus’ voice faded in. Was he talking this entire time? “I’m courting your mother.”
“What?”
He shifted his stare from his face to Peisistratus’ eyes, looking into them directly. Everything seemed to stop.
“Ah, there you are. Just making sure you were listening.” Peisistratus teased.
“Not funny, Pei.” Telemachus huffed.
“Pfft, as if you can resist my charm and humor.” Peisistratus stood up, placing a hand on his chest and standing straighter than usual, a grin on his face.
“Someone ought to deflate your ego someday.” Telemachus snorted, standing up as well, pretending to be annoyed, but he couldn’t help the stupid smile that appeared on his face.
“I’m fine as I am, thank you very much,” Peisistratus retorted, a smirk on his lips. “Now stop pretending you aren’t affected by my charisma.”
“As if I’d be swayed that easily. You’d have to try harder than that.”
“Well, why don’t you take me for a spin, darling?” Peisistratus had suddenly pulled him close, a hand around his waist, and the world was just Peisistratus and the stars above him.
Nevermind the sudden movement, Telemachus was still registering the last word Peisistratus had uttered, his cheeks flushing a small pink, reacting faster than his mind could catch up to everything.
His heart seemed to stop and his breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening once again as he choked on air, knowing how stupidly stunned he looked right now.
Gods, the effect this man had on him.
“Have I charmed you into silence, hm?” Peisistratus chuckled.
“Oh- you!” Telemachus retorted, a small pout on his face as he feigned his anger. It was almost endearing, at least, to Peisistratus.
He spun him around, gripping his hand tightly as he stepped right, the two’s bodies syncing in the same rhythm and moving together, suddenly letting go and letting Peisistratus drop, leaning in.
“My turn.” He smiled at Peisistratus, slightly breathless.
Peisistratus had never looked more beautiful than at this exact moment.
If only there was a way to imprint this in his memory forever.
Peisistratus cracked a small smile up at him.
Telemachus smiled back.
And leaned in closer until their faces were inches apart and closer until their lips met.
Adrenaline flowed through his veins. It was like Aphrodite had set his blood on fire with the buzzing he was feeling underneath his skin. All he could focus on what the feel of his lips on Peisistratus’, that yearning underneath the both of them, Peisistratus’ hand slowly tangling itself in his hair, holding him close.
Telemachus let up and they were now both standing, so close, so near, so desparate for each other as they devoured that love and yearning they’d both been holding back.
Love is a fickle thing.
Had it been hiding all along, and this was the key that unlocked it?
They pulled apart, both breathless and their faces flushed. Telemachus’ face shifted to one of mortification as he realised what he’d done.
“I- oh gods, oh gods, oh gods! I’m so sorry, Peisistratus, I-I- I shouldn’t have-“
“Hush.”
Peisistratus brushed his thumb along Telemachus’ cheekbone, silencing his ranting and overthinking. He smiled softly at Telemachus.
“It’s okay.”
“A-are you sure? I really shouldn’t- you’re probably not okay- not fine right now-“ Telemachus sputtered out, his cheeks going redder than they’ve ever been.
“I am as well as I can be, Telemachus. And-“
“We’ll be fine. I know that.”