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"You're so warm…" He whispered, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. Your lips curved into a soft smile as you ran your fingers through his dark curls. He leaned further into you as if he didn't ever want this intimate moment of peace and quiet and warmth to end.
"I'm aware." You mumbled. Ithaca's very own prince was sprawled over your body, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn't even know how you got here. It was too long of a tale to recall correctly, all you knew is that you were content in this warm moment with him. He let out a soft chuckle at your response and lifted his head from the crook of your neck, his hair falling into his face in a way that made him look so perfectly handsome.
"You should join me tomorrow. My father's throwing a feast for Arrephoria, I want to see you there." He tilted his head slightly, his dark and warm gaze meeting yours. You sighed fondly. How could you ever resist him and his honey-soft eyes?
"Of course.. I'll be there."
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It was loud. A long table sat in the center of the feasting hall, its wood brown and polished and shiny in the candle light with various men of high statuses sitting at it. Perhaps.. you didn't belong here. You were just some girl, no one really that important, but Telemachus wanted you here, so you would stay— at least for a while. Your gaze flickered towards the head of the table where there were two chairs, one for the recently returned king; Odysseus, and one for his cunning wife; Penelope. You respected both of them deeply, they were like the parents you hadn't really had, and you were the daughter they never got.
You took a few slow steps further into the hall, your peplos brushing against your feet softly with each movement. Telemachus had purchased it for you, calling it a gift because he thought you had needed new clothes. It was one of the ones with the loose and pretty sleeves— the ones royalty would wear— and a deep blue in color. It even had pins instead of ties. Your sandals brushed over the stone of the floor as you searched the room for the man who had asked you here. But, to no avail.
Your heart began to thrum a little faster, your stomach dropping. Your palms began to grow clammy with an uncomfortable sweat and your feet grew cold as anxiety began to worm its way into you. You stood there, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Where was he? Did he set you up? Surely not. Telemachus wouldn't do that, right?
You took a few more hesitant steps into the hall and stood against a wall, trying to remain unnoticed by all these people. Servants moved through the halls with practiced ease, serving men wine at their request. The nobles chatted loudly, laughing boisterously. Odysseus murmured something to his wife. Your gaze continued searching and searching for him. You inhaled sharply and suddenly, as if having forgotten to take a breath. This was hopeless. He wasn't going to show up. He ditched you.
Just as you turned to leave, a pair of warm and strong arms slid easily around your waist and a chin settled on your shoulder.
"Guess who." Telemachus's voice purred into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Your hands went to loosely grip his forearms around your midriff and you shook your head.
"Oh, I wonder." You sarcastically answered. You couldn't help the grin that began spreading across your face though. "Telemachus." You said pointedly and snickered. He chuckled too and leaned his head down to brush his nose against the soft skin of your neck and inhale your scent.
"Mmmh.. yeah." He answered and closed his eyes before pulling away as if he didn't really want to let go. "Shall we take a seat, my lady?" He asked, doing an exaggerated bow and offering his hand to you. You slid your hand into his rough one, calloused from many training and sparring sessions, and the occasional battle.
"We shall." You confirmed, unable to help the fondness that creeped into your tone. He wore a lopsided grin as he intertwined his fingers with yours and guided you towards the lengthy table.
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Side by side, you and the Prince of Ithaca sat at the feasting table. Your plate had a few slices of fish, some figs and fresh bread. The dining hall reeked of honeyed wine, well-seasoned lamb and fish, and the sweetness of fruits. Oh, and the stink of men who hadn't bothered to bathe with anything aside from water in days because they thought their musk was some kind of achievement. It wasn't. It was disgusting really, but you kept that to yourself while you poked at your fish.
Telemachus was on his third plate of the evening, stuffing himself full with food. Most days, he was good at pacing himself. However… today was not one of those days. He wasn't as good at pacing himself when delicious food dressed in honey and wine and seasonings was offered. He would always say it was 'too good to resist' and that one should 'never miss an opportunity to eat like a god'.
You glanced to the prince, your eyes flickering up and down his form as he sat in his chair. He was adorned in his most formal tunic that was a light blue in color with darker blue accents alongside a himation draped over his shoulder that was a rich, deep blue— nearly purple— with golden accents. He seemed to notice your staring though and turned to you. His lips curved into a gentle smile and he cocked his head to the side in a silent question— are you okay?
You gave him a nod and inhaled deeply, the sickly sweet scent of the air nearly intoxicating.
"I'm fine." You murmured to him. "It's just.. a lot, in here."
He nodded understanding and draped a toned arm across your shoulders.
"We can leave, if you'd like." He offered sweetly and you shook your head.
"No, no. I'll be fine. It'll be over soon, right?" You asked, your gaze searching his for confirmation. He seemed hesitant.
"Uh.. sure.." He nodded then sighed. He could never lie to you, you both knew that. "No. Probably not."
You sighed. "I'll live, I guess, probably." You mumbled. "Hopefully. Maybe." You tacked on.
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You were right. You survived the feast with the sickening smells and the boisterous men, and now you got your reward. You and Telemachus laid side by side, facing each other. The prince peppered your face with kisses; several on your cheeks and forehead, a few along the ridge of your brows and your temples, a couple along your jaw and chin, and one on your nose. In between kisses he would mumble sweet nothings— praise for making it through the evening, compliments on his favorite features of you— you laughed softly the whole time.
His gaze was warm as he slowly ceased his kisses and dropped his forehead to gently press against yours. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes at the contact, relishing in the warmth of his body against yours until he spoke quietly in words meant just for you.
"I love you, my darling, my everything." He breathed, the words causing your heart to stutter and your stomach to do a few little flips. Eventually, a gentle and small smile came across your face and you answered in an equally quiet tone, in words meant only for him.
"I love you too, my sweet, my world."