Chapter Text
Seventeen, he had just turned seventeen and he was gifted an elegant dagger. A family heirloom that was a coming of age gift for the heirs of Telemachus family. The handle was blue with intricately carved patterns flowing into an owl. A lapis lazuli sitting at the base of the knife to finish what gave the knife a distinguished sense of aristocracy.
The young prince wasn't sure if he should carry the dagger on him or not, on one hand he had a wonderful blade to defend himself but on the other, would the knife be taken from him? A suitor could easily disarm him and turn it on him, steal it, or even use it as reason enough to kill the prince. Not that they needed much more reasons given how he knew they were already looking for an excuse to get away with killing him.
He accepted the gift graciously and placed it in his tunic. He’d keep it in his room for now. Perhaps it’d serve a purpose to him eventually.
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The suitors lived the same way Telemachus has only seen them live; an infestation of swine pretending to be men worthy of his mother’s affection. Drinking, eating and even taking prostitutes in his own home. He couldn't take arms and slaughter them like the farm animals they act as, his mother forbade it.
He had to keep each and every single one of them documented. They have been there his entire life and yet their habits seldom changed. He knew exactly what days some of them left, when they left, how long they left and even where they had left to. 108 names marked in a neat organized listed record, Antinous’ name was on it in red and underlined. Only suitor who came close on the list was Eurymachus, perhaps Melanthius.
Knowing their habits made traversing the halls easier, which halls they were most dense in and which ones were empty except for the prince strolling through them. If he made a misstep in where the suitors were in the palace he’d find himself lurking in the shadows, his pale blue eyes following them, aching to know why they had chosen that route at that time.
How he itched to ambush them from the shadows to rid himself of his tormentors. It burned in his soul like no other yet those thoughts had stayed with him so long that they began to manifest. He was restless watching the drunken fools wonder about how he licked his lips and mouth watered hungrily. He wanted to see their crimson to see their crimson spill. To watch them choke on it as they look to him for mercy.
Alas he couldn't without rousing suspicion. He ached to hear those cries but he knew if he attempted it his life was forfeit and even if he had not been killed by the suitors what would be explained to his mother? He had no right to take a life that way by Ithacan law he’d be a murderer.
He found himself with those desires again when in the courtyard. Watching a suitor stumble into the garden with a chalice in his hand and a lazy smile across his face. Telemachus’ eyes narrowed before softening, his mouth twitching into a smile as he salivated. He knows what to do.
“Hey, you! The drunkard about to piss in my bushes, come here.” Telemachus called out innocently enough a hint of playfulness in his tone. The suitor sneered and spit in the grass with his still on his chiton as stumbled to the prince. “What you want brat?” His speech was slurred and stood only slightly taller than Telemachus.
Telemachus smiled brighter than he has in a long time. “I just want to show you something in the woods. I might put in a good word with my mother if you do.” He was playing with fire now but maybe it might be enough to lure the drunk. “You’d do that just cuz I looked at somethang for you?” The suitor’s eyes tried to narrow on Telemachus but they were too hazy and unfocused. “Mhm what do you say?” Telemachus was practically dangling a nice piece of meat in front of a snarling dog with this. The man seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging, “sureee why not brat.”
Telemachus gestured for him to follow. He had the suitor so close all he had to do was reel him in. Each step they took into the woods caused faint cracks of twigs and soft crunches of leaves. A toothy smile on the prince’s face as he wandered into a secluded wooded area. Turning to watch the drunken suitor who had stumbled beside him.
“Now stand here and close your eyes. I promise you this’ll be good.” He sounded like an excited child about to show off something he found to his mother. The suitor let out a scoff before closing his eyes, Telemachus could barely believe he got the bastard to listen to him. He stepped behind the suitor and slowly lowered down to pick up a sturdy rock. Lifting it up with a sharp inhale he brought the rock down with all his strength on his exhale.
He heard it before anything else, that thump sound of two hard surfaces colliding followed by cracking. A single noise had fallen from the suitors lips, a gasp mixed with a sharp yelp. Then the sound of the older man’s knees falling to the ground before his body hit the ground as well. Like a sack of potatoes that was just flung down.
Telemachus’ readjusted his grip on the rock, feeling his fingers press into the warmth that came with a thick sticky liquid now coating the rock. He brought his arm from his side to view it better. His head cocking to the side as his eyes focused on the crimson liquid that coated his hand as the rock slowly rolled from his palms. A soft thump as it hit the ground.
All heard was the beat of something loud in his ears, like the sound of Hephaestus’ hammer striking a weapon in his forge over and over. Except it wasn’t the ring that came with metal colliding but a soft thump like Ares’s war drum. He slowly brought his palm up to his lips and tasted the red on them. Metallic warmth hitting his tongue and making his neck hairs stand on end. It made him softly moan in delight, such a strange taste but by the gods it was like the sweetest nectar.
As he licked his lips he looked at the man on the ground. His eyes wide and glassy, mouth slightly agape. Oh and how that crimson nectar flowed from his head and painted Demeter’s beautiful greenery red. The young prince almost wanted to taste more of him till he saw something glimmer catch his pale blue eyes. A ring, a beautifully intricate ring. He crouched down and lifted the hand up to slowly pull the ring off the dead weight it decorated. A bronze ring with an intricate carving of an oak tree in the center. The ring was chipped and scratched from constant wear and tear yet the prince was delighted by the ring. Placing it on his slender calloused thumb to wear. A thin smile that curled gently at the edges on his features.
He looked to the lifeless suitor before him before rolling his eyes with an irritated sigh. Telemachus knew he had to get rid of the corpse he just really didn’t feel carrying the fat pig’s slumped weight. Nonetheless he crouched down and gripped the man’s ankles. He almost thought about giving him a coin for Charon’s ferry, almost. His grip firm on his ankles, the flesh still warm, almost tricking Telemachus into believing he was still alive. Yet the man didn’t react when he dug his nails into the soft flesh or gripped tight enough that it should have caused bruises.
Telemachus knew a cliff edge overhanging the ocean was near. Dragging the suitor across the forest floor out the nature goddesses domain so he may soon enter the god of earthquakes’. Red streaked the ground from where the suitor had initially keeled over. “A bit of rain,” Telemachus could help but hum, “a bit of rain will wash it away. I’ll make an offering to the king of the gods.”
Once at the cliff edge the prince placed the bottom of his sandal firmly on the suitor’s rib cage. Leisurely rolling the man off the edge and into Poseidon’s ever hungry depths. “You brought me emptiness and my mother into mourning by taking my father and now you take one of my one-hundred-and-eight miseries. It’s the least you can do for me, oh god of the ocean.” His voice was cocky for a seventeen year old talking so disrespectfully to such a prideful god. Yet right now the prince felt untouchable.
Telemachus couldn’t help but smile as he looked over the cliff at the water that lapped at the jagged rocks below. Slowly stepping away from the edge, his hands held behind his back as he hummed a lullaby. He had just taken a man’s life and it was the happiest he has ever felt in a long time, the most alive he’s ever felt in his short life.
His mind is only able to wonder if he had enough wit inherited from his unlucky father to successfully do it one-hundred-and-seven more times. A soft laugh escaping him, perhaps he shouldn’t get too ambitious, not yet. His form slowly disappeared into the woods to return to his palace. All under the watchful eyes of a committee of vultures.