Chapter Text
It was sudden and unexpected. It pierced his throat cleanly through, his eyes wide in surprise, he choked as a warm metallic-tasting liquid rushed up into his mouth and spilled past his lips. The goblet of wine in his hand felt unbelievably heavy as his vision blurred. The cup clambering against the floor and spilling its contents once it fell from his grip. He stumbled two steps forward before his chest hit the ground.
His breathing was shallow, carefully strung in to fill his lungs, forcing himself not to gasp, to do anything but hyperventilate. A warm liquid pooled from his neck the same way it had forced itself into his mouth. His fingers only twitched when he tried to move his hand. He tried to make a sound but only his crimson blood sputtered out. When he finally focused his senses, Antinous deduced three things:
He could not move, speak or see.
His body felt limp, his mouth would not allow speech, and the room had grown dark. His eye was open so he knew it wasn’t his body failing him again. Everything sounded like muffled conversation as if someone was shouting through a balled up rag.
Yet his heart was racing, his gut felt like it was being twisted, with a familiar tinge of pain under his eyes. He knew this feeling too well and this time he was helpless, unable to choke back the fear. A wetness stemming from his good eye and along his nose. He was consumed by the feeling it was like an animal clawing away at his soul. His body felt weaker by the second- He just wanted it to end, it was suffocating.
He didn’t even remember where he was until he heard a familiar voice. He was shouting, desperately and afraid. He had never heard this voice sound so afraid as the words bounced off the palace walls, “Get off me- Get off me!”
No doubt it was Telemachus but his chest felt tighter. What was happening that the boy sounded like that? It truly didn’t click until he heard it followed by several men shouting, “Hold him down.” The same mantra he had given the other suitors but what was this sickness in his gut. He was hearing his plan in action so why did he feel revolted?
The shouting, the sound of weapons clashing, he knew the boy was fighting tooth and nail to survive. Yet when he heard a final strike of metal his stomach dropped. He forced his eye shut, bracing to hear the prince’s cries as his pride was broken. Yet instead he heard the goatherder speak, threatening to break Telemachus' hands.
A squelch of flesh as Melanthius’ voice grows weaker, an older man shouts. The beggar? The palace halls echoing the older man’s unbridled hatred chilled Antinous to the core. His chest hollow as he heard the words that followed, “…You plotted to kill my son. You planned to rape my wife. All of you are going to die.” The pieces fell in place at last. The queen and the boy were right to wait for him. The king was back and he was punishing them for insulting his family, Xenia, and palace. He was cleaning the house out and leaving Hermes to sort the suitors out.
A seething venom of the last coherent words he heard were, “This will be your fate!” Followed by the sound of flesh being torn with the sickening squelch of blood and muscle tearing that Antinous tried to shut his eye even more. He could feel himself shaking against the floor as the palace halls were filled with screams, the screams of men that he believed were fearless, their agony, genuine panic as if a flock of lambs just figured out they were about to be slaughtered and all they could do was scream for mercy.
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His eye slowly opened when the screams stopped and the air was eerily silent. Could he even remember the last time the palace was this quiet in the four years he’d been here? He could barely make out anything in the darkness. The only visible light shone in the hall leading towards the armory. A soft hazy glow that fixated him. It was the only light after being in the darkness for so long.
Yet it was unattainable, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t even beg for help. He was a forgotten island in the middle of the ocean. One that was so insignificant that not even Poseidon recalled its existence. The one time he was ready to ask for help, the one time he was willing, was when it was too late.
He heard the soft speaking, the sound of Telemachus but he couldn’t make out the words. He knew the tone Telemachus took was too bright, too joyful for the worse to have happened. He wanted to bring that boy so much pain yet hearing the prince sound safe released the pressure on his chest.
Though everything felt lighter, unmovable but lighter. The conversation must’ve ended or moved for he didn’t hear the voices anymore. All was quiet and dark, quiet except for his breathing reaching a careful slowness. His gaze fixed on the light. The light that was so far away but it seemed like it was growing. Was it coming closer to him? Was he actually going to be able to reach for the light out of this dark pit?
His tears flowed from his good eye as light slowly and softly illuminated the room. He closed it softly for the suffocating darkness was gone and the sound of crackling torches created a sense of calm. When he opened his eye again a familiar face had crouched down beside him. He never realized how cold he was till he felt Telemachus' warm sturdy hands touch his face. His other setting down a small box. What was he doing?
Antinous tried to move his lips to speak but only a weak noise came out, followed by Telemachus shushing him gently. The prince’s hands move to cup Antinous’ neck. He spoke to Antinous in a soft voice, one that sounded too mournful for comfort, “Please don’t speak. You have an arrow in your neck and you’ll only hurt yourself more. I’m going to try and save you despite part of me not wanting to. Maybe I will succeed and you will live another day. Perhaps then you can be a better man, a kinder one…” As he paused, Antinous looked at the small smile on Telemachus’ features. He then continued to speak this time his voice quivered as if afraid of what he was going to say, “If I fail… I’ll make sure you are properly buried, I’ll make sure all of you are… but I’ll make sure to bring you flowers.”
“Why?” Was all he could think. After all he had put Telemachus and his family through, why save him? Telemachus’ soft wide eyes were looking down at what Antinous’ could only describe as a monster. Yet they were brimming with kindness, hope, and despite it all, tears. Despite how lost, how confused he was, that smile told him that he could relax. That he was with a friend, at least for right now.
Then the prince stood up. Was he leaving him? Did he really misplace his faith that Telemachus of all people would save him? His eye widened as he watched the boy begin walking away. He watched in horror until he calmed a small bit as Telemachus stopped before a brazier. A dagger glinting in his hand as he puts it up to the flame. The moments he spent getting the dagger to glow hot felt like eternity.
However, Telemachus moved back over to him quickly. Antinous’ fear of abandonment was replaced with the thought of what Telemachus was going to do to him. He couldn’t even plead for mercy. Had he underestimated how cruel Telemachus was capable of being? Something thin was placed between his teeth, tasting of leather. Was he gagging a man who couldn’t speak?
He felt the hand on his neck again and this time he shuddered. The sound of wood snapping caught him guard but before he could process what was happening the agony of a thin rod dragging through his neck consumed his senses. He forced his eye shut and by the gods the pain was excruciating. Yet the worst pain to come wasn’t that. The worst was the hot blade pressed onto the wound, cauterizing it. He bit down hard on the leather in his mouth as his nostrils flared. If that wasn’t there he could only assume he would have injured himself further.
Telemachus' voice greeted his ears again, “I should have warned you but I was trying to lessen your pain.” He then felt the arrow exit the back of his neck followed by the pain of his flesh being burnt again. His breathing was sharp and rapid as his head spun. Dizzy with everything happening he felt Telemachus’ hand on his back. Moving in a slow comforting manner as he spoke to Antinous’ gently, “Just breathe for me okay? It’s over now, just breathe.”
He slowly opened his eye and looked to the man comforting him. Slowly steadying his breathing to a calm. Telemachus’ sat down beside him and carefully maneuvered Antinous’ to be laying on his side with his head on the prince’s lap. Telemachus’ hand just gently rubbed Antinous’ shoulder while the other was reaching into the box for some ointment.
Antinous’ couldn’t believe any of this. He had to be hallucinating, for the first time while helpless. Someone was going out of their way to be there for him, to take care of him, and of all people it was Telemachus. He wanted to speak to croak out a weak apology but knew his voice would fail. With all his strength he forced his hand to move. Forcing his fingers to write on the ground in his own blood. He heard Telemachus’ begin to ask what Antinous was doing but he had cut himself off.
Telemachus stared at the two words carefully written on the floor. A hot wetness rolling down his cheek and dripping onto Antinous’ face. Reading the message of “I’m sorry.” Over and over. It shouldn’t have met as much as it did. Yet it affirmed he was doing the right thing. Telemachus steeled himself, swallowing roughly before letting out a shaky breath.
His gaze lowered to the jaded hazel eye that belonged to Antinous. His lips kept starting before shutting them again. How could a man unable to physically speak leave Telemachus speechless in two words?
The silence prolonged before finally Telemachus shakily spoke, “There was a man before the monster, let that arrow be what slew it. From now on… Let the man live in the monster’s place. You owe me that much.”