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2024-12-25
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if you would embrace me as your own

Summary:

He is looking. Telemachus does not know what to say.

His eyes are brown in the way his are.

Telemachus feels his heart pounding in his chest.

/

or, telemachus meets his father and odysseus reunites with his son.

Notes:

happy ithaca release day !! and merry christmas :3

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

He is here. 

After twenty years and the death of the lives he has hated since he began to see the world for what it truly was, he is here.

He does not look the same. His hair is long and tangled and his beard is even longer and even more mangled. His eyes are tired and look like they have never known sleep. The cloak he wears is torn and makes him look like a beggar. He is nothing like Telemachus would have thought of him. 

He does not resemble the busts in the throne room or the paintings on his mother's walls. 

He is older and more tired and seems to have seen images that Telemachus could not even begin to describe. 

And yet it is him. Telemachus knows this. 

The suitors called out to him, it is him. 

He killed them in-front of his eyes, it is him. 

He strung the bow that his mother kept locked in her room, it is him. 

Telemachus tongue hangs dry. He would have had hundreds and thousands of things to say to him but now there seems to be none that truly fit. 

He is here, it is him. 

He wipes his hands on his cloak. The bow is held in his hand but he does not grip it in the way he did when the suitors had charged at him. 

He is looking. Telemachus does not know what to say. 

His eyes are shaped in the way his are. 

Telemachus feels his heart pounding in his chest. 

Come, he begs his mind. To bring him words that make him seem more than himself.

He has waited twenty years for this. He does not want his father to think him stupid. 

"Father."

The words sound like a question, but it is not meant to be one. 

"Son."

A confirmation. 

Telemachus hands wipe the fabric of his tunic but there is no need. There is nothing that hangs on his hands that must be clean. 

Not like his. His are calloused and red with blood, lesser so now that he has wiped them on his cloak. There is blood on his face. He brings his hands to his cheek and smudges what there is. The blood smears on the corner of his face, but he does not seem to mind. 

Telemachus does not know what to do with himself. 

He is staring. Telemachus is staring too. 

He feels a hand press against his back. 

Go, she says. Telemachus feels like he's falling. 

But he is not. He is standing with his hands at his sides and he's staring and his father is in-front of him after twenty long years and he is staring too. 

I do not know how to, he confesses. 

Odysseus' eyes drag up the length of his body. They are strange; One is brown, and the other is blue, and they both stare and stare and stare.

His tongue becomes loose when his eyes come to his face. 

"I have wanted to meet you all my life," Telemachus' voice sounds strange, unknown. "And now I do not have the words to speak to you."

Odysseus stares as he speaks. 

Telemachus opens his mouth, "I have heard of you all my life. I have- I have thought of you quite a bit."

He does not say anything. His eyes seem phased, unfocused. 

He does not blink. 

Telemachus swallows. 

"I- I know you know nothing of me," Telemachus says. "But I have thought about your name for so long, for nights and days until I forgot my own."

Still, he is still. He refuses to blink. 

His eyes stare and stare and stare. 

They do not leave his face. 

"They thought I was you for a long time," Telemachus speaks, because he does not. The words flow through him like rivers. "I look a lot like you, they say. I have heard of you all my life."

Still, he does not speak. 

Telemachus wishes him too, but he does not. 

He only stares and stares and stares. 

He does not want his voice to start shaking. He looks at his feet, "We are like each-other, I think. I am your son, but- but I do not know what you must think of me. You- you probably think of me something grander than I am. But I am not. I do not want to disappoint you in this."

Telemachus looks up and he is still staring and staring and staring. 

"So- So do not think that I am anything you may think. Rid your mind of those thoughts." 

Nothing.

"I am supposed to have your strength."

There is nothing. 

"For I am your son."

He is still staring. 

"But I do not know if I do."

Telemachus does not want to start crying but he feels it come forth within him. 

His lips want to tremble but he does not let it. 

He is disappointed. He has not said two words since his first and he is disappointed. 

And suddenly, his eyes begin to blur. 

Telemachus does not reach to take the sadness from his eyes. He stands straighter, hopes to look taller, so they will leave his eyes. 

He closes them and hangs his head. He will shield his disgrace from his father's eyes. 

"My boy."

He speaks. Telemachus looks up. 

"My darling son."

Despite himself, his hands begin to shake. 

"I have loved you since the moment I held you," His voice is rough with age, strong like the sea. "You were so tiny. I used to hold you against my chest and you would put your tiny hands on my face and say words only infants would say. And I would put my lips to your hands and kiss you. And you would laugh."

Telemachus puts his hands behind his back. 

He feels his palms tingling. 

"You have grown so much," He says. 

His eyes begin to glisten. The humanity returns to him. 

"I have waited twenty years for this," Odysseus says. 

His feet begin to move. He takes a step towards him. 

Telemachus is in place, staring and staring and staring at him.

Odysseus takes another step forward, "Do not be afraid of my mind, my beautiful, darling boy. You will never be ruined or lesser. You are whole and you are mine and I will love you as I did so, so long ago. I am here. After twenty years, I am here."

He extends his arms outwards. 

And Telemachus runs. 

It is slow, but then he begins, and he stumbles on the bloodied arrows. 

His father makes some of the way. 

Telemachus falls. Odysseus catches him. 

He wraps his arms around his back and squeezes him, pushing his body against his own to memorize him, to make them one. 

Telemachus puts his head on his shoulder and feels at home. 

He lets his eyes close. Odysseus hand goes to his hair, pushing his head down. 

Telemachus eyes begin to cry.

Odysseus does not shush him. He cradles his head and keeps him tucked in his arms. 

Telemachus wipes his tears and his voice is shaking, "I have often wondered if you would embrace me as your own."

And he does something he wouldn't expect.

Odysseus lets go all of a sudden. 

Telemachus hands fall limp and he steps back. 

His heart spikes and pounds and his lips tremble. 

Before he can say anything, his father puts his hands under his arms and lifts him off of the ground. 

Telemachus doesn't expect this. 

He turns and turns and Telemachus feels like a child again, spinning. He laughs. 

Odysseus begins to grin. 

He hugs him and puts his head on his stomach, slipping his arms around his back. Still in the air but grounded by the arms of his father, Telemachus puts his arms around his neck and puts his head back on his shoulder, his body folding over his. 

Odysseus holds him in this way too.

"Now," He says, and he picks Telemachus pack up and sets him on the ground, "Let's get a good look at you."

He puts his large calloused hands on his face, and Telemachus can't help but smile. 

His father is smiling too, and he looks so happy. 

"You have my eyes and my hair," He turns his head to the left, and to the right. "You've got my ears and lips too."

Telemachus laughs. 

"But my boy, you are incredibly thin," Odysseus says. "Do you eat enough?"

"I do."

"Are you sure? Did the suitors eat most of our food?"

He nods, "I am afraid so. But I did get my portions."

Odysseus puts his hands on his neck and puts his head down. He touches his forehead against his own, "Those dogs. After this is cleaned, we will have a feast, and I will make sure you get more than enough. I will teach you how to hunt. Or do you already know this?"

Odysseus puts his head back and Telemachus grins, "Grandpa taught me some."

"It has always been my wish to teach my son how to hunt," Odysseus confesses. 

"I will rid my mind of my knowledge."

"No, do not do this," Odysseus kisses his forehead. "I will see what you have learned and I will do my best to teach you more. Would you like this?"

"I would like it very much."

He grins, and kisses his nose. 

"My darling son. How I have bended time and space to return to you."

"You must tell us everything."

Odysseus kisses the place under his left eye, "I will. I will tell you all of it. Both of you."

Telemachus notices his hands going a little stiff. 

He smiles, "She waits for you."

Odysseus looks at him and nods, "We cannot make her wait longer. Go and tell her I am home. I will be there in a moment."

"Okay," Telemachus says but he does not want to leave. 

Odysseus grins at him and kisses his forehead again, "My darling son."

His chest is filled with love. Odysseus holds him for a little longer and lets him go. 

Telemachus walks away, and when he looks back, Odysseus is staring straight at him. 

Notes:

i listened to i cant help but wonder and that specific lyric about embraces hit me so hard i had to write this fic. so much love towards the epic cast, thank you for everything, this was the best finale we could have gotten. lots of tears and crying tho, cant lie. merry christmas everyone and i hope you have a wonderful amazing day :3 (also if you would consider writing a comment, that would mean a lot to me)