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Telemachus panted, his weak body aching from the exertion of running to soon after its close call with illness.
He found himself already regretting even attempting to flee from his room, with Athena close on his tail. Though with the way she had been handling his sickness and nursing him back to health, he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
The Ithacan prince had been sick for the last week, bedridden at a time the fates themselves had seemed to align for his misfortune, his mother setting sail for a diplomatic meeting with the neighboring kingdoms just the day before.
He had been in the middle of a training session with Athena when his throat had itched, no amount of drinking water in a panic stopping it. It didn’t help that when he ignored the pain and attempted a duel with the goddess that he fell over in a coughing fit.
Athena had soon after hurried him to bed, even when he had said all that ailed him was a sore throat.
That was, until the stuffy nose had come, and soon after it the chills and fever, his body aching in numerous places to the goddess of wisdom's panic. He hadn’t been allowed to leave bed the entire week, stuck to the four walls of his room and the numerous books his mentor read to him.
But he had gotten better!
By the end of the week, he was finally well enough to walk on his own, with only a slight cough and aching muscles to show for the week long sickness that had taken over him.
And yet still Athena hadn’t let him rise from his bed, cushioned with numerous pillows and detailed embroidery that she had woven for him while he slept, anxious to help his recovery in any way.
When he had tried to explain he was completely fine, and could at least handle some light training, she had refused, saying he had to be fully healthy to even have a weapon in his hands again.
So here he was.
Running from his room, with an annoyed goddess searching for him through the large halls of the castle, aching legs straining from overexertion.
While Athena had gone to find another book to read to Telemachus while in bed–most likely a military tactic book–he had made a run for it.
He had burst out of the room, startling a group of maids with laundry baskets in tow, running down the stairs to the closest way out of the castle–a servants exit that had been abandoned a few years ago.
The hoot of an owl behind him jolted the prince from his thoughts, as he scrambled behind a pillar, the ridges digging into his back as he closed his eyes in trepidation.
The owl, feathers dark brown speckled with white, flew silently through the halls, the only sound it made being the faint rustle of wings as it sharply turned down an opposite hall.
Letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, the Ithacan prince sagged against the pillar.
A small break wouldn’t hurt, Telemachus thought tiredly, his heart still racing from the close call.
The owl that had just passed by him was one of numerous that littered the palace. Constantly flying through the windows and balconies, littering the castle with feathers and droppings, to the constant annoyance of the servants.
When the staff had complained to his mother of the hassle it was to clean up after them, she had said that they were a blessing from Athena herself, a sign of protection and favor.
And while many had whispered their frustrations under their breath, a vast majority had seen the positives of keeping the sacred animals around.
Telemachus smiled as he remembered one afternoon when a suitor had attempted to look too close to his mother, leering at her, mouth open to spout hateful words, when an owl had flown from above, talons arced.
A scream of pain had split the air, the suitor holding his head in agony as blood splattered over the pristine marble floor.
The unwelcome inhabitants of his home had since always been deterred from approaching himself and his mother with bad intentions, the birds pecking and scratching at any who attempted to hurt them.
Any who ignored the owls or tried to harm them wouldn't be seen again, and no matter how much Telemachus asked his mother or Athena of what happened to the unlucky men who disappeared, neither told him anything.
He ran farther down the hall, the sounds of his bare feet hitting the marble floor and his own pants of exhaustion all that interrupted the silence of the peaceful castle.
Just a few more turns and I should be at the exit, Telemachus thought, turning down a corner, a swishing of wings alerting him of an owl flying behind him.
He dove underneath a table, knees skidding against the hard floor as he crawled to the back of the furniture, his back to the wall. He curled his legs to his chest as the rustling grew closer.
He felt a cough building up, eyes widening, he slapped a hand over his mouth, the itch in his throat building, the urge to let it unleash growing stronger and stronger. Telemachus could hear the questioning chirps of the bird drawing near, his throat constricting as he squeezed his eyes shut from the pain of holding his cough down.
Finally, the itch faded away, the flutter of wings going with it.
Slumping against the table legs, he sighed in relief, stumbling to his feet, looking cautiously around him to make sure any other owls were flying through the hall before continuing down it.
At this point Athena definitely knows I’m gone, He remarked grimly, smiling to a group of servant girls who blushed at the prince’s attention, running down the hall.
He had to admit, it was pretty freeing to not be constantly watched for once. He always had at least one owl watching him at a time when Athena herself couldn’t be there, as rare as that was.
While it had made him feel safer around the suitors in his home, it had also made him feel suffocated at times. Constantly being watched was annoying, with anytime he would stumble and skin his knee, or attempt to sneak away from royal duties, an ever watching owl would immediately report to Athena.
The goddess of wisdom would appear, scolding him softly as she healed his wounds or herded him to a council meeting, Telemachus left to look accusingly at the seemingly innocent bird that had snitched on him.
He sighed, sneaking past another owl who hooted loudly, finding himself finally at the abandoned back entrance, the hall empty and slightly decrypt from its lack of use.
He grinned, looking out to the tantalizing fresh air, not even a few feet away, free from the stifling smell of the castle.
Just as he took his first step to freedom, he heard a chirp behind him, as he slowly turned to see a russet colored owl, perched on a windowsill, looking straight at him accusingly.
Telemachus could have sworn that it was grinning at him triumphantly, if an animal with only a beak could even do that.
“Wait, please don’t!” He yelled, reaching out desperately to the bird as it launched itself to the air, screeching loudly to the responding chirps of the other owls within the castle.
He turned to the door and ran, his legs still weak from sickness straining to carry him past the threshold, arm reaching out, fingers just reaching the faint breeze outside.
He felt a tug on the back of his chiton, yanking him gently back as he stumbled into Athena, her long peplos brushing against his feet as she looked at him scoldingly.
He looked up sheepishly to the frowning goddess, disapproval showing clearly on her face.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
Telemachus bashfully smiled, “Outside.”
Athena sighed, pulling him into her arms, tawny owl wings surrounding him, the signature trait of the goddess of wisdom. His face pressed firmly onto her shoulder, her hand rising to the back of his head, tangling in his hair. He closed his eyes, feeling the intricate weaving of the goddesses' peplos cool against his hot skin.
Calloused hands from sword fighting and days at a war council table raced up his arms lightly, a soldier's instinct to check for wounds and the like, put to use for her mentee.
Satisfied he hadn’t somehow managed to injure himself in the time that he had been left alone, she took his wrist, lightly pulling him further inside. As he was pulled away, Telemachus longingly looked to the unguarded doorway, gently tugged away by Athena, who looked amused by his forlorn expression to the open doorway.
“Come, it’s back to bed with you,” The goddess scolded, a light hand on his wrist as they walked side by side through the halls back to the rooms he had tried to escape not a while ago.
Athena herself towered over Telemachus, the goddess having made her human form to make the prince look almost like a child beside her, not the lanky teenager he was. It didn’t help that her large war helmet she often wore added to her height, though at the moment the goddess favored a more relaxed attire.
She had traded her shining silver armor and helmet with its plumed blue feathers for waves of hair to be tied low, the brown hair swaying with each step. Her white peplos was a far cry from the usual rough fabrics she wore to better appear presentable on the battlefield and at a council filled with men.
Telemachus sighed as they made their way back to the room, stray owls trialing behind them, following the pair as they walked to his room.
“Stupid owl,” He grumbled under his breath, forgetting the heightened hearing the goddess had beside him, as she laughed under her breath at his words.
“Do not blame him, he is simply doing his job,” Athena scolded lightly, nodding to a servant girl who bowed as the two passed.
“What’s his job?” Telemachus asked, he was curious as to how Athena would define the nosy owls who watched his every move day in and out. Even when he slept, perched on top of his bed frame and staring unflinchingly below at him, which in his opinion, was pretty creepy.
“To look after you when I cannot,” Was all the goddess said, an amused smile lighting her face at the boy's annoyed expression, his face scrunching in the way it always did when he was irritated.
“I don’t need someone to look after me!” He exclaimed, arms crossing in annoyance, before quickly fixing his pose as he realized the childish posture he made.
“So I did not just catch you running from bed like a child?”
Telemachus opened his mouth, ready to argue, countless words rising to the tip of his tongue, before frowning, and looking to the intricate marble floor below him.
Athena’s amusement was palpable as she lightly put a hand to his back, signaling their arrival to his rooms, pushing the door open to allow the warmth and familiarity of his rooms open to them.
His room was a place he spent a majority of his time when Athena wasn’t training him or spending time with him, as while her presence through her sacred animals made life in his own home easier, it didn’t fully erase his trepidation towards the suitors.
It was more than large enough to accommodate his active nature, fit for the prince he was, his bed was a circular shape, almost like a nest, with a large bedframe that served as a perch for any owls that decided to rest in his room.
A small balcony let air billow through, the large curtains flowing with the wind, rays of light reflecting through the fabric.
Large bookshelves lined the sides of the rooms, filled with knowledge from all across the islands surrounding Ithaca and beyond, brought personally by Athena, with maps littering the walls. A desk filled with open books and crafting and weaving set messily in the corner, abandoned since he first was found sick.
Clothing littered the floor and bed, stray parchments and maps strewn across the floor, much to the disdain of Athena, her habit of cleanliness never quite making it to his room.
Owls perched above his bed and on several open spaces in the room, and to Telemachus’s annoyance, the very same one that had ratted him out perched smugly on his bed frame. He couldn’t help sticking his tongue out at it as he walked closer to his bed.
To his surprise, instead of leading him back to rest, Athena instead guided him to a corner of the room, where a small dressing screen was, its fabric holding the design of an olive tree in full bloom, branches reaching beyond the boundary of the screen.
Set on a small dresser, a chiton of fine material lay, owls and olives lining the edges of the garment, Ithaca’s signature blue blending into the robe. It seemed finely woven to the prince, made by Athena herself by the fabric and intricate designs that would be highly sought after and paid for by a mortal seamstress.
It was similar to that of what the goddess would usually weave for him, as she made all of his clothes. If not slightly more loose and comfortable for more lounge wear than what he would usually wear.
“Do I have to change? I barely even sweat that much!” Telemachus complained, his annoyance more forced for the sake of not going to bed without complaint.
“Yes well your little adventure managed to dirty quite a lot of your chiton,” The goddess pointed to several spots of his garment, the fabric soiled by dust and dirt from his stunts to avoid the watchful eyes of her birds of prey.
“Besides, I’ve just weaved a new garment for you, it’s only fair you try it on as compensation for having to search for you.”
Telemachus grumbled under his breath, looking to his bed with its overflowing pillows and covers, his body still sore from its impromptu run through the castle halls. If anything, it was looking even more enticing now that he realized how tired he was.
Ignoring his protests, deft hands quickly took the top of his chiton and started to unpin the brooches at his shoulders.
Realizing what she intended to do, he immediately took a step back, pushing the goddess away, adjusting his robe back down in embarrassment.
“I can change by myself!” He yelped, hands out to stop the goddess from advancing, to the amusement and annoyance of Athena.
Telemachus was of course used to having help pinning certain pieces of difficult clothing from attendants, as was normal for a prince. Athena would often help him don armor or pin a himation, though he found he liked the silence and privacy of dressing himself a majority of the time.
The goddess took a step forward to the defensive step back of her mentee, frowning as she put her hands to her hips in annoyance.
“I assure you, I have seen many parts of the body, including that of what you hide from me-”
Telemachus yelped, covering his ears in horror at the words of his mentor, his face blushing a light red.
“It’s not that, it’s just-” His words, tainted in embarrassment, were suddenly cut off from a cough that burst from him, the action surprising even himself as he covered his mouth, crouching to the floor in sudden weakness.
The pain racking his throat barely made him notice the worried presence of Athena as she lightly patted his back, waiting for the outburst to end.
It felt as if metal shards scratched at the inside of his throat, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes at the sudden pain. What felt like hours must have only been a few seconds as the burning in his throat finally started to fade away, his coughs slowing.
When the cough finally left him, he felt as if all the energy that had carried him through the halls of the castle and back had disappeared, leaving him hollow and crouched on the floor, his throat aching and chills racing up his spine.
“Telemachus,” Athena’s gentle voice interrupted his pain filled thoughts, as he looked up to her crouched beside him, gently wiping away a tear that had fallen down his cheek during his fit.
“Are you done?” Was all the goddess said, rubbing his back soothingly, causing chills to break out across his body. He shivered, nodding, not trusting of how much his pain riddled throat would serve him.
“It’s high time you went to bed now, come,” The goddess stood, a hand under his arm gingerly lifted him up beside her, Telemachus’s weak legs causing him to lean heavily on Athena, who took his weight.
She quickly set him down on a stool by the dressing screen, the plush fabric that laid over the wood holding his aching body as he slumped against it. He hadn’t realized that he could get such a setback from recovery with just a simple cough. Though he supposed it was most likely due to the stress of attempting to run outside, while also diving and jumping out of his way to avoid those damned birds.
Athena’s cold hands brushed against his sides, making him startle and look up to her as she attempted once again to unpin the garment. Telemachus opened his mouth to protest when she quickly put a finger to his lips, stopping him.
“Do not speak, you’ll only put yourself through more pain,” The goddess scolded lightly, pausing as she looked at Telemachus's pleading face, sighing.
“Telemachus, I promise you that I have seen far worse from men on the battlefield, and you are far too weak right now to be changing by yourself.” As she spoke, ignoring the light dusting of red that colored the prince’s face, she quickly unpinned the brooches that kept the chiton in place.
The garment spooled down to his feet, the absence of fabric leaving him shivering, wrapping his hands around himself as he looked away from his mentor, the feeling of vulnerability that came with being undressed in front of another hitting him. Athena ignored the red eared prince, and took the new chiton and carefully draped it across his body.
The fabric felt soft against his skin, different from that of the rough texture of his training clothes, and more delicate than what he would usually wear to lounge and study. He felt as if the heat clinging to his skin lessened with the contact it made, the fabric pleasantly cold.
It almost felt similar to when he entered quickthought, where his place as Athena’s champion made it so strength would pour into his body in times of need when within her realm. Except this time, the strength was lessened, compressed into the textile of the fabric against his skin.
Athena walked to the small dresser that held all of his jewelry, brooches, and clothing, pulling out a simple pin of an owl in flight, a symbol of status as her champion. Walking the short distance back to the shivering boy, as she pinned the cloth she spoke.
“You should know that what you did today has set back your recovery by at least a few days,” Telemachus winced at the thought of spending days more in bed, reading books and studying maps until his brain dried out from boredom.
Athena smiled amusedly at his expression, pinning the last of the fabric to his shoulder, a hand at his back guiding him to stand shakily from the stool, an arm around him leading him to lean on her as they walked the distance to his bed.
“But I understand you are an active child, so a walk outside may be in order,” Telemachus brightened at her words, the dread of having to go back to bed softened by her cession.
A faint smile touched Athean’s lips as she gently helped him into the bed, pulling back the covers as he flopped onto the mattress unceremoniously, the wooden frame creaking from the force, the owls perched above him looking down curiously.
The goddess’s amused expression soon bled away as she tucked the sheets to his chin securely, “But if I catch you pulling a stunt like you did just now, you will be in bed, whether you want to or not, and I will not refrain from giving you ample time to rest, even beyond your recovery.”
Telemachus drew back from her otherwise gentle touch in contrast to her firmly said words, eyes widening as he attempted to rise from the bed, protests rising to his lips as his ravaged throat protested.
“But-” His words were cut off as he felt Athena’s hands push him back down to the bed, nimble fingers brushing lightly against his eyes, a rush of drowsiness washing over him, like a wave cresting over the sand.
“Enough, we will discuss more when you wake,” Was all the goddess said, the simple words pulling him underneath a spell, the silken sheets feeling like water pulling him under, him being helpless to its pull.
“Sleep,” Telemachus barely registered the word being spoken to him, an unnatural urge to fade to unconsciousness taking over his mind. He yawned, feeling as if weights lay over his eyes, making it impossible to keep them open. Burrowing underneath the covers, darkness quickly took over his senses.
He could last hear the ruffling of feathers, soft fabric brushing against his skin, and the hands of a goddess slowly carding through his hair as he surrendered to the unyielding dark.