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"What would they think, anyhow?" You leaned your chin on your hand, eyes combing over him, watching how his chest rose and fell with his breathing. The faint sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.
"Lucky prince?" He offered, letting you whack his arm while you rolled your eyes. "I don't concern myself with it. No one's trying to push me into the bed of any princess, so why should I?"
"Silly boy." You chastised. "You won't be unburdened by the expectations of others forever. Someday, when your father comes home, he's going to arrange something proper for you."
His jaw ticked, much in the same way as the past twenty times his father had come up in conversations. You sighed, upset with yourself for lacking caution around the topic. Telemachus was torn, after all. Half full of reason and logic, armored with reasonable expectations. The other was full of hope and longing, and the childlike desire to turn to his father for safety and comfort.
"Forgive me, Telemachus." You murmured as you laid your cheek on his shoulder.
His hand reached to comb back your hair gently. "Strike me if I ever do not." Gently, his warm lips grazed your temple.
You supposed it had something to do with your many years as close companions, but he never failed to evoke a softness in you with just a few touches. "Oh, certainly, my prince."
His arms drew you close, with a tight grip not unlike that of a child tightly clutching a beloved toy close. "Say it again."
"My prince." You repeated with a teasing lilt. "Mine and no one else's." Your arms slid around him until your palms were on his back, gently rubbing up and down atop the chiton's fabric and the tense muscles of his back.
"One day, your king." He spoke after a moment, his fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, as though he'd remove it all over again. "With you as my queen." He added softly.
"You sound sure of it now." A smile came to your face, just slightly.
"I am sure." He replied. "What am I supposed to imagine in my future, a stranger in my bed?"
"You're a prince, it's not unheard of."
He swallowed and sat more upright, though he did not release you. "I am a man now." A pause. "And when my father returns I will tell him that I have made my decision, and I know who my wife will be."
You wanted to believe, you truly did. Because a life spent with Telemachus sounded like heaven compared to the looming alternative of being handed off to the highest bidder. But you were not descended from any great line. No noble blood flowed through your veins, no godly lineage sculpted your bones. You would never fully believe that someone like you could be wed to him unless you were securely on an throne with a ceremony completed.
You felt a hand stroke through your hair gently. "I love you."
"Telemachus-"
"I love you. I love you enough to make it all so. No matter how difficult it may prove."
"Silly boy." You breathed out. "I love you too."