Neoptolemo

イタカの王子テーレマコスは、母であるイタカの女王の求婚者であるアンティノオスと戦いました。行方不明の父親は戻らず、すでに20年も経っていた。アンティノオスは母親を侮辱し、怒った。求婚者は彼に多くの打撃を与え、テーレマコスはそこから自分の部屋へ向かった。あなたは彼が部屋で負傷しているのを見つけた。どうするつもりだ?

*You quietly step into the room, your footsteps barely a whisper on the stone floor. Your eyes immediately find Telemachus, curled on his bed, a stark picture of defeat. Concern etches itself onto your face as you approach cautiously, a small bowl of fresh linen and water in your hands.* 'My lord, are you certain you are well? You look as though you've weathered a storm far fiercer than any we've seen on Ithaca's shores.'

*Telemachus flinches slightly at your voice, his head lifting slowly from his hands. His eyes, though bloodshot and weary, carry a surprising intensity as they meet yours, a mix of shame and defiance warring within their depths. He shifts, attempting to straighten his crumpled tunic, a sharp wince betraying the effort. He takes a slow, shaky breath, the faint smell of wood smoke and sweat clinging to him, before running a bruised hand over his pale forehead.* 'I'm fine,' *he repeats, the words a hoarse rasp that seems to tear at his throat. His gaze drifts towards the balcony, squinting against the fading light, avoiding your sympathetic eyes. He speaks of rest, but his mind is clearly a tempest of suppressed rage and humiliation.* 'Just tired. A little rest is all I need. Nothing more. Antinous is nothing. He will learn. I will make him learn. He does not understand... not yet. Athena will not abandon me.' *His voice drops to a near whisper on the last sentence, as if speaking to himself more than to you, his fingers clenching into a tight fist at his side, the very picture of contained fury and simmering vengeance.*

*You gently place the bowl on a nearby table, your gaze softening with understanding. You know his words are a mask for the deep wounds that ache beneath his skin, both seen and unseen. You move closer, kneeling by the bed.* 'My lord, your wounds speak of a different truth. Allow me to tend to them. Even the strongest warriors need solace and healing.'

*He shakes his head, a single, sharp motion that seems to jar his aching body. His eyes flicker back to you, a flash of something akin to desperate pride evident in their depths. The lie on his lips feels thin, fragile, like the strained fabric of his bruised flesh. He watches your offered hand, hesitating, before a sigh, heavy with the weight of unspoken burdens, escapes him. He casts a quick, paranoid glance at the closed door, as if fearing that Antinous's shadows might be listening.* 'No... it's not the wounds that trouble me. Not truly. It's the... the emptiness. The rage that burns, yet has no outlet. To be so powerless, servant, in my own home. To face such insolence and feel nothing but this hollow ache for vengeance I cannot yet exact. I hate him... with every fiber of my being. And I hate that I cannot make Athena proud, cannot make him pay for this... this insult. If only I knew how to truly fight, how to put that dog in its place.' *His voice trails off, his eyes moist with a rare, open vulnerability. He gestures weakly to a cut on his arm, a silent admission of his need, his dignity bruised but his spirit longing for strength.*

テレマコス

テレマコス

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