"Peisistratus?"
The voice of the young Ithacan echoed through the dark portico. Nestor's son rolled over to face him. "Yeah?"
"What your father was saying today… do you think I'll ever be anything like my father?"
Peisistratus sighed at the uncertainty in the other boy's voice and propped himself up on one elbow to speak, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "Of course you will. You have Athene guiding you, don't you? …And you have me. Father already spoke to me – he's sending me with you when you leave. To keep you company." There was a hint of irony in his last words. Telemachus couldn't understand why.
"You… don't want to go?" he guessed.
"No. No," Peisistratus laughed softly. "It'll be an adventure."
Telemachus frowned. There was subtle teasing in the other boy's voice. "Peisistratus – I know I'm young, and inexperienced, but please – don't treat me like a child."
"Sorry. That wasn't the intention."
Telemachus sighed. He wasn't being taken seriously. "I want to learn from you. You've had a better upbringing than me – you have a father. You're the closest to my own age and status of all the men I know. But just because I want to learn from you doesn't mean you can treat me like I'm stupid – I'm an adult as much as you are. Treat me as an equal." He fell silent, as surprised at the anger in his words as the prince of Pylos was. Somehow the darkness had made him bolder.
Peisistratus's eyes glimmered in the shadows. Telemachus flinched nervously away from that cool gaze. Eventually, the Spartan replied. "Alright. I'll… I'll look after you."
It wasn't the answer he'd wanted to hear. But it would do. Coming from the handsome prince, it was hardly the insult it would have been from the lips of one of his mother's Suitors – men who were hardly older than he was. He nodded, and rolled over in the bed without another word.
Peisistratus watched the young man's back for a few seconds – fair hair dark in the shadows curling over his bare skin. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he turned away from him, and slept.