Chapter Text
It was in moments like this that Telemachus felt grateful for the vastness of the palace of Ithaca. Oftenly, the immensity of the castle reminded him of just how profoundly alone he was - without friends of his own age, with a father lost at sea and a mother who loved him with all her heart, but who had more on her shoulders than the loneliness of her young son.
But on afternoons like that, when the presence of the unwelcome visitors was too oppressive to bear, he was grateful to still have the gardens.
The gardens were as empty as they usually were; the suitors had no interest in sitting quietly to admire the view of the place they wished to rule. Telemachus sat hidden beneath the canopy of a tree, his ink-stained fingers holding a notebook where he drew all the places he dreamed of one day seeing, all the adventures and dangers he longed to face.
Telemachus's life had changed just after the eleventh day of his name. The war in Troy had ended a year earlier, and his father had not returned. For months, the Greek poleis were filled with festivities celebrating the return of the surviving heroes. All of them, except Ithaca.
When the celebrations in the neighboring cities ended, the suitors began to fill the palace halls. The king had not returned, the months dragged on, and hope of his return dwindled day by day, filling with hope those who saw in his absence a chance to ascend to the throne.
Six years later, the suitors had grown more impatient, more dangerous, and Telemachus tried to stay as far from them as possible.
Drawing was one of his favorite pastimes, he didn’t need to interact with anyone, and better yet, he could lose himself in worlds that he would only see come to life on the pages of his notebooks.
“Hey, boy,” His silent refuge, however, was interrupted by an unpleasant presence. “What’s the little prince doing here all alone?”
Telemachus knew that man - he had forced himself to memorize the names and peculiarities of every one of the suitors, knowledge of them was his best weapon for staying safe - and he knew this was not one he wanted to encounter alone.
Eurymachus was a man the prince avoided at all costs. He was unpleasant, brutal in both his manner and his words, and, drunk as he clearly was, an even more dangerous figure.
“Well, isn’t this adorable: the little prince wasting his free time dreaming of adventures while better men go out and live them,” The reek of alcohol hit the prince hard as the man approached and snatched the notebook from his hands. “Maybe that’s why your mother won’t let you take the throne, puppy. Even she knows you’d only be a real king in a world of illusions made of ink and paper.”
Telemachus burned with fury and shame. A million replies crossed his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to say any of them aloud. Before the silence could become suffocating, however, a smooth voice made itself known. “You should be careful, Eurymachus. A real king doesn’t make stupid decisions like... I don’t know... humiliating the son of the woman he wishes to marry.”
Antinous was watching them from afar, leaning casually against a column and looking unconcerned. Eurymachus looked furious at the newcomer’s comment, a suitor never liked being mocked by another. “Watch your tongue, Antinous, or you might wake up without it someday.”
Unshaken by the threat, Antinous stepped closer with a predatory air. “You can try, my friend. Who knows? Maybe you’ll have better luck than all the other men who’ve threatened me, though none of them are around to tell you how that went.”
Eurymachus’s face turned immediately red. For a moment, Telemachus thought a fight would break out, but the suitor merely spat at Antinous’s feet and stormed off, cursing as he left the garden.
Telemachus might have felt relieved that the man was gone, if it hadn’t meant being left alone with Antinous. This suitor was also someone the prince tried to avoid, though for completely different reasons.
Antinous had arrived at the palace only half a year prior and, despite his young age - being only five years older than the prince -, quickly stood out among the suitors due to his charisma, wit, and scathing remarks. Telemachus had never been the target of those remarks - at least not to his face - and he hoped it would stay that way.
The man watched the other suitor disappear and, once he was finally gone, his eyes turned to the prince. “If you keep letting men like that treat you that way, they’ll take your crown before you ever sit on the throne, little prince.”
Telemachus had to bite his tongue not to respond, as if Antinous himself wasn’t one of the men who wanted to steal the crown. The suitor seemed to notice his silent fury and the sharp retort trying to escape his lips, which appeared to amuse the older man. “Do you think silence protects you, boy? If you want respect, you’ll have to learn to strike back.”
“What good would it do to insult them back?” Telemachus replied, frustrated. “They’ll always see me as just a puppy.”
“Maybe. And maybe you are,” Antinous answered seriously. “But remember: they’re just dogs. And if you’re going to be a pup, be the offspring of a beast at the top of the food chain.”
“Show them your fangs, little pup,” Antinous leaned in close, invading the prince’s personal space and making the younger man’s breath hitch. “Answer their insults in kind, and they’ll stop trying to hurt you with them.”
Antinous flashed him a crooked smile and walked away without saying another word, leaving the prince with much to think about.
***
Whenever Telemachus felt frustrated, hopeless or lost, the sea seemed to call for the prince. He would gaze at the horizon, hoping the waves might bring back a man he had never truly known, but who, he felt, would be the only one who wouldn't look down on him
Telemachus had never been to war, no matter how much he longed for it, but he felt that the council meetings resembled battles more than one would expect.
And, in those battles, his only weapon was his words. None of them, it seemed, were sharp enough.
The counselors smiled and nodded when the prince spoke - they were fond of him, after all - and their words were kind and gentle as they dismissed his ideas, suggesting the prince should spend his time on trivial matters, leaving the truly important ones to those with more experience.
Telemachus left the hall with the bitter taste of powerlessness in his mouth. His steps carried him to a terrace where he could see the ocean, and not for the first time, he wished his father were there.
He understood why his mother couldn’t openly defend him against the elders - her own position as regent would be at risk if she challenged them too often - but the young man knew that, if his father were there, no one would dare belittle the prince in front of the king.
“I imagine the old men weren’t too impressed with your little ideas.” Telemachus’s moment was interrupted by a voice as smooth as silk, yet laced with irony.
Telemachus turned to face the newcomer, replying before the other could deliver another sarcastic remark. “I don’t see how that would be any of your concern, Antinous,” Telemachus said firmly, chin raised, channeling all the royal energy he knew resided within him. “As far as I know, matters of state aren’t the concern of the likes of you.”
A wicked smile spread across the suitor’s face, looking both surprised and pleased. “Well, well. So the little wolf does have some bite.”
Telemachus felt his face heat up. ‘Little wolf’ was not a nickname he appreciated, but was better than most of the others the suitors used.
Besides, coming from Antinous, the nickname held a different weight: he was still a pup, yes, but of a far fiercer beast.
“I don’t know if it would make a difference, at least not with the elders,” Telemachus let slip, his frustration so intense it made him open up more than he should with this man. “They don’t insult me, but they don’t take me seriously either. They use my youth as an excuse to keep their power.”
“And that’s why you need to corner them,” Antinous said, walking toward him and leaning on the parapet beside him. The closeness made the younger man uneasy. “I heard you’ve read every book in the palace library. I’ve seen how you treat the people of the city. You’re smart, you care about your people, and your ideas make sense… but you speak them like a student asking questions, not a sovereign giving orders.”
“You’ve got what it takes, little wolf. But guess what? This world is cruel, and it gives you nothing just because you’re good.” Telemachus averted his eyes from the older man’s piercing gaze. Antinous’s words were harsh, but he wasn’t belittling him, he was challenging him. “The old men won’t take you seriously until you force them to. You’re not a subject, so speak like a king.”
“But I’m not the king,” he replied, and that was the painful truth: until they knew what had happened to Telemachus’s father, the prince’s status would always be uncertain, always questioned.
“No one is, little wolf,” Antinous shrugged. “The suitors aren’t kings. Your mother isn’t. The council even less. You know what sets you apart from them? You’re the one who should be. And you’re the only one not acting like it. It's high time to change that.”
Antinous tapped the parapet twice and began to walk away, pausing for a moment to cast one final look over his shoulder. “Show them what you’re made of, little wolf. Make it impossible for them not to bow to your will.”
And then the man disappeared down the corridor, leaving Telemachus with a new mindset about his stance, but with greater doubts about the suitor’s intentions.
***
Sneaking through the castle corridors to spy on its residents wasn’t something Telemachus could be proud of. He was the crown prince of that palace after all, it wasn’t fitting for someone of his position to hide in the shadows to observe the lives of others.
But this was an exceptional situation. His interactions with Antinous were unlike anything the prince had ever experienced.
The prince couldn’t understand the true intentions of the suitor. Antinous wasn’t gentle with his words, quite the opposite, but everything he said seemed to be exactly what Telemachus needed to hear.
In such a short time, the man had offered him more lessons on how a sovereign should act than all those who were supposed to be preparing him to become king had given him his whole life. And that made no sense at all.
At first, Telemachus believed the suitor was using a strategy similar to Amphinomus’s. The man seemed to lead a small group of suitors who thought they could win his mother’s affection through him, filling the boy with sweet words laced with poison and ill intentions.
However, the more Telemachus thought about it, the less it made sense. Considering the sharp and direct tone he always used, Antinous didn’t seem particularly interested in earning the prince’s favor.
Even stranger, he seemed genuinely invested in making Telemachus capable of defending his position. Why would he do that if his goal was to steal the crown?
With his mind caught in a whirlwind of doubts, Telemachus decided to observe how the man behaved with the other suitors. Maybe, if he saw how Antinous acted when he wasn’t around, he’d better understand the nature of their interactions.
That’s why, that morning, when he heard some of the suitors would be training in the weapons courtyard, he quietly hid between the columns on the upper floor, watching from a distance. His eyes soon found Antinous, right at the center of the space, the man seemed to attract all the attention of the environment to himself as if he owned the place.
The man fought as if his every move was calculated. He wasn’t the strongest there, but he was definitely the most dangerous.
Antinous dodged blows with a feline grace, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. And when that moment came, he didn’t waste a single opportunity. Every dodge was precise. Every strike, accurate. While the others relied on brute strength, Antinous relied on strategy.
He knew how skilled he was, a smirk played on his lips throughout every match, as if he entered each fight already knowing he’d win.
Telemachus watched in awe, he had never seen anyone fight like that. And for a moment, he imagined what it would be like to face that body, that gaze, and that smile in combat.
Antinous stopped fighting soon after, victorious once again, laughing at something one of the suitors had said. Then he started walking away from the courtyard, heading straight for the staircase that led to the balcony where Telemachus was hiding.
The prince moved quickly, trying to escape before being seen, but his attempt was in vain.
“Leaving already, little wolf?" Antinous’s voice cut through the air like a blade, as sharp as the sword at his hip. “Without even a greeting?”
Telemachus froze in place, watching nervously as the older man climbed the steps slowly, stopping just three stairs below him. “Were you hiding? Or just didn’t want to get caught admiring?”
“I was observing,” the prince replied with more firmness than he expected, considering how nervous he suddenly felt. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you.”
Antinous gave a crooked smile, climbing one more step, closing the distance between them. “So you like the way I move my body, little wolf?”
Telemachus felt his face heat up and looked away, unsure of what he was feeling, but hating how easily the other man could destabilize him.
“I was just curious, that’s all.” Telemachus muttered, trying to sound indifferent.
“Curious enough to spy from the shadows,” Antinous arched an eyebrow. “If you wanted to see me fight, you could’ve asked to train with me.”
“I don’t know how to fight.” The words escaped before he could think about the consequences of revealing something like that to a man like him.
To his surprise, however, Antinous didn’t mock him. He simply said. “Then I’ll teach you.”
Telemachus stared at him, unsure whether it was a genuine offer or a cruel joke.
Antinous seemed to sense the conflict on his face, climbing the final steps between them and leaning in close, voice low, far too close. “Who knows? Maybe if I show you how to use your claws, you’ll stop hiding.”