Chapter Text
It took Antinous two days for his voice to begin to sound right and his limp to subside again. It still hurt to walk, but it was tolerable now; any pain was worth bearing if it meant that Helena and the others were safe. He knew how he would balance that equation, every time. There was no price too high for him to pay to keep his girls safe, no pain too strong to bear, nothing would stop him from protecting them.
All of it was made more tolerable with the Prince's help, too. Antinous was somewhat embarrassed to hear from Amphinomus that, in the moments when he was first found, shaking and afraid, that night, all he had said was the Prince's name. Telemachus. His friend said he had refused to let anyone but the Prince touch him, refused to explain beyond begging for Telemachus's presence. His face had burned to hear it, but some other part of him had quietly marveled. He answered. Antinous had called for Telemachus in his fear and pain . . . and the Prince had answered.
He tried not to think too deeply into it. It would not do the Crown any favors for someone to find out about Antinous's weakness or the vile things done to him and that his father was paid for; Telemachus was simply acting in the best interest of himself and his mother to protect their public image. None of this farcical marriage scheme would work if the whole of Ithaca knew Antinous was just a convenient pawn and a whore that opened his legs to any man -- or woman, on occasion -- who met the asking price. He wasn't even sure of the legal steps that one could go to in order to de-legitimize the marriage if they found out he was not a free man, but he was certain they existed. Either way, Telemachus's quick response wasn't out of care for Antinous . . . right?
Antinous's heart traitorously supplied him with the feeling of Telemachus holding him that night, pressed chest-to-chest, careful not to antagonize Antinous by keeping their hips apart. He thought of how the Prince had snuck away after he had fallen asleep in the Prince's bed, had slept on the lounge, likely so he would not scare Antinous by rolling onto him in their sleep. He thought of the soft circle of thumbs on his bruised hips, of gentle words, of the promise to fulfill whatever request Antinous would make of him. Of his clothing, lovingly selected by his twins sisters, waiting for him in the royal baths. Of the trust Telemachus had placed in him by showing him how to navigate through the palace's secret, unseen passageways, built by the Old King to protect his family.
Were these the actions of a man who did not care for Antinous? His mind said that there were rational explanations for each moment, for each sign. But his heart disagreed. His heart, damn the organ and the goddess that ruled it, said that Telemachus had no reason to do these things if this was a purely political marriage. That, if the Prince did not care for him, then he could expect the cold, yet cordial, treatment that Eupeithes and his current wife shared with one another, but Telemachus -- no, the Prince, he was the Prince, Antinous didn't have the right to be so familiar with him -- the Prince had still gone out of his way to treat Antinous with kindness.
Not that Antinous had actually seen much of the Prince in the last two days. Amphinomus had filled him in on the various activity around the palace as they picked over lunch and dinner both days, brought to the Prince's rooms by the other man; Telemachus hadn't been joking when he said he had work to do. Amphinomus told him about the Prince bouncing all over the palace and the closest villages, giving speeches and hosting lords, ladies, and others as he and his mother arranged the wedding. Antinous had only seen the Prince when he had stumbled into his rooms, collapsed on the lounge in exhaustion, and then traded a few cursory words over breakfast before the Prince was out the doors again the next day.
On the third day of this, Antinous had had enough. He was going to chew through the wall if he was left alone to do nothing all day again. As soon as the Prince had disappeared out the door, Antinous finished his willow tea -- Telemachus had supplied him with more at every meal and Antinous had to be careful not to indulge the little flutter his heart gave at that gesture each time -- and set about dressing. He had to be slow still, careful of the blue-green-yellow-purple bruises that littered his stomach, hips, and thighs. It still hurt to walk or speak, but he could conceal the rasp and limp, so it was manageable. Now that the announcement had been made, he had no shame in clasping Telemachus's borrowed black-and-gold himation over his shoulders and leaving his own wolf cloak on the bed for once. He belonged to the Prince now; it was fine to show that off and he knew a few of the other Suitors recognized the himation as belonging to Telemachus. He'd much rather be marked as owned by the Prince than the men who had marked his body in recent years.
Still, as he made his way out into the palace and through the busy corridors, he tried not to squirm as whispers followed him. He'd expected this, he could handle it; the others were just jealous that he would gain a path to the Crown before any of the rest of them.
"Well, if it isn't the conquering hero!" His teeth grit when Melanthus's voice cut through the din of the dinning hall as Antinous stacked his plate full of food he wasn't actually interested in eating. As he sat at one of the emptier tables, the benches quickly filled around him, and a hand clasped on his shoulder as Melanthus and Eurymachus descended on either side of him. "So, tell me, Antinous." He took a deep pull of wine, ignoring the other man's clear attempts at gearing up to taunt him. "How long have you been letting the Prince bend you over and fuck you like a bitch in heat?"
Antinous spluttered and the table erupted in roars of later. He pushed away from the bench, dragging Melanthus up with him, and shoved the man onto his back, sending food and dishes and wine scattering everywhere. "Watch your fucking mouth!" His fist collided with the man's jaw and the crowd's excitement swelled as he and Melanthus fought for control. Not that it mattered; Antinous may be in pain and fighting a killer headache from his lingering hangover, but he was almost completely sober now, by his standards. He had the strength and skill over Melanthus, honed from years of doing his father's dirty work on his beck and call, and it was no trouble to keep the other man pinned to the table as he cackled at Antinous's rage.
Trying to bring things under control again, Antinous smirked, and leaned down over Melanthus. "Why so curious about your future king, Melanthus?" He rolled his hips suggestively and Melanthus's bloodied smile was wiped away in an enraged growl. "You wanna know how much I can make you beg for it?" The words felt like ash in his mouth, vile and unwanted, but he couldn't afford to look weak in front of these men. The slightly impressed twitch of a brow from Eurymachus, who was still calmly eating beside their commotion, only proved he had to do this. Melanthus kicked and fought, spitting blood up at him, but Antinous forced a mocking laugh. "Just admit; you're jealous you didn't think to fuck the Prince first. Now the Crown is mine." He shrugged as he pushed Melanthus away. "Just took a different route."
Melanthus stumbled back into the crowd. A few of the other man's supporters caught him as he wiped and spat more blood from his mouth -- Antinous must have split the inside of his cheek against his cheek with his punch -- and growled, but Antinous knew a few of his own crowd were mingling nearby when his beady, grey-green eyes flickered nervously around them. "You'll fucking pay for that, Antinous." Melanthus stepped forward and jabbed a finger against his chest. "You're just a fucking accessory for the Crown, and we all know it." Murmurs broke out around them and Melanthus smirked smugly as Antinous cursed internally. "A pretty little thing to hang on the Prince's arm -- you have no real power here, just like before."
Antinous reached out, mockingly slow, and fixed Melanthus's chiton, smoothing the fabric in place with a gentle touch. The other man twitched in irritation, but he didn't dare move with so many eyes on them. The entire dining hall was watching them now. "Ah, darling," He patted Melanthus's cheek condescendingly as he slipped into his best version of Achaean; it was still rough and not at all like the proper speech of nobility and royalty, but very few of the men here would know better, and most of them were in Antinous's corner on most matters. "Don't worry your pretty little head too hard about politics. Not everyone can get a proper political education when they're, what?" Not that you have one, idiot, He tilted his head in mock curiosity, "A blacksmith's son?"
The rage twitched on Melanthus's face as scattered laughter echoed around them. Antinous may not be a proper noble, and he usually hated using his status like a weapon after it had been used against him for his entire childhood, but he had to bring Melanthus's brashness down a peg. Telemachus needed him to control the Suitors; he couldn't let Melanthus undermine him like that.
"Tell yourself whatever you want," Melanthus's voice was low, sweet almost, and he rubbed the edge of Antinous's -- Telemachus's -- himation between his fingers. "But we all know who this belongs to, mutt." His voice dropped further as he leaned in, faux-intimate as he pressed the words to Antinous's ear and he had to hide his flinch. Don't back down. Don't be weak. "We all know the Prince just bought a pretty little fuck toy, and I can't say I blame him, after what I heard the other night."
Oh gods, no, he knows.
Antinous blacked out as he smashed his face into Melanthus's nose.
* * * * * * * *
"What in Hades's name happened!"
Antinous took another swig of wine and hissed in irritation as Amphinomus continued cleaning the cut over his good eye with a wet rag. "Fuckin' assholes challenged me," He muttered around a second swig. He dodged when Telemachus tried to snatch the amphora of wine away and stood, stumbling further back into the main room under the Prince's ire. Fuck it, he was too drunk to care if Telemachus shouted at him right now, and his ribs hurt after fighting with Melanthus again. At least this time there hadn't been any knives. "Prick thinks he knows everything, but he's a stupid little bitch."
Melanthus knew Antinous was a bought and sold piece of meat. The thought soured his stomach again as he tried to take another drink. Telemachus shot forward and snatched the amphora, slamming it down on the table besides Amphinomus with enough force that Antinous giggled. "Don' break it! Wine's good."
Amphinomus sighed and rubbed a hand down his face as Antinous giggled again and stumbled back to lay on the lounge. "He's been like this since the fight. Won't talk to me and that's his third jug." He let himself drift in the feeling of the alcohol's warmth and pleasure, ignoring the rest of the world. He could worry about stupid Amphinomus and Telemachus and Melanthus later. "Melanthus said some shit about him being a trophy marriage and Antinous snapped."
Antinous frowned in irritation at the way that made something soften in Telemachus. "Fuck off, don't need your fucking pity." He ignored whatever words Amphinomus and Telemachus traded for a minute, basking in his drunkenness. It was easier to face the world this way; he didn't have to think so hard when he was drunk. He didn't have to remember anything specific about why his body ached or his throat burned. He'd been in a fight, and like this, he could pretend that was all that had happened. He could pretend he'd only beaten Melanthus into a bloody, broken pulp before they were torn apart by Eurymachus and Amphinomus because the man had always been an overly-forward prick and he had to keep the others in their place.
He didn't have to think about why Telemachus looked at him like that as Amphinomus left and the Prince turned back to him. "Antinous, are you --"
"You can shut the fuck up if you're gonna ask if I'm okay." He snapped. He stood -- fuck, he was more gone than he thought if it took three tries -- and stumbled over to the table to seize the wine again, ignoring how Telemachus called his name. "'M fine, I don't need your pity, pretty boy."
Telemachus came closer, a tight frown on his face, but he snorted. "That one's new." Antinous slapped his hand away from his face, but Telemachus was insistent, and pulled his jaw to face him as he inspected the damage there. "Well, I think I did worse in our last fight, so you should be fine."
Antinous shook his face free, but he took a wobbling step closer to the Prince. "Not our last fight." He murmured, thinking of that night in the rooms they'd been locked in together. He took another drink, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and crowded Telemachus back. The wide-eyed Prince moved easily until his back hit the wall. Antinous smirked, leaning closer to the Prince. He saw how the man's eyes trailed over him, saw the way his breath caught and pupils got bigger as Antinous leaned over him. Melanthus's words were stuck in his mind, nagging at that part of him that still didn't understand why Telemachus had chosen him. "Last time you pinned me down, kissed me." The rasp in his voice helped him with the hoarse whisper as he leaned closer. Telemachus's chest was heaving as their lips brushed, feather-light. "I won't say no, this time. You might wanna try the goods before you buy them, right?"
This was familiar, this was something Antinous understood. Telemachus had done him so many favors, and had promised more; he could do this. He wouldn't even be upset. The thought of the Prince's fingerprints being the ones that were pressed into his skin, the Prince leaving scratches or bites, the Prince marking him did not bring the usual sour and nauseous taste to his mouth. Antinous wanted him to replace the touch of the man before him, to not cringe every time he looked down at himself. Antinous wanted to be owned by the Prince . . . at least, he thought so.
He stumbled when he was pushed away and growled. Telemachus looked shaken, but he stood tall and proud, sure. "No. Antinous, I am not using you like that!"
Anger -- smothering hurt, deeper down, something Antinous did not want to think about -- reared it's ugly head and Antinous roared, throwing the amphora at the wall near Telemachus's head. The Prince ducked, but he didn't need to; even when he was this far gone, Antinous's aim was true, and he hadn't meant to hit the other man. Still, Telemachus's eyes were wide, fear and his own anger shining as Antinous shouted, "Why won't you fucking touch me?!"
The silence after was worse. Gods, it was so much worse, clawing at Antinous, ripping into him like insects into a corpse, chewing him apart from the outside. He fought not to cry. He was so tired of crying. "Do I repulse you? I-is it because I'm already used? Or broken?" He hated how weak his own voice was, wobbling and soft and scared, but he sank down to sit on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. "I can be better. I can be good. I'm not broken."
Footsteps approached, booted heels crunching softly over the tiny shards of pottery now littering the floor, the blood-like wine trailing through them in a mockery of Antinous's pain. Why did the parts that didn't bleed hurt so much more? He hissed, surprised, when a cool, wet cloth was laid against the back of his neck. He leaned into the touch as Telemachus's fingers danced in concern over his brow, his cheek, down to his chin, where he tilted Antinous up until their eyes met.
Antinous had always loved his eyes. They were bright and blue and green and reminded him of open water. They weren't damaged, like his, or a muddied brown, or twisted by scars.
"I don't need you to be good, Antinous." Telemachus slowly sat beside him, guiding Antinous so that their eyes stayed locked. Antinous went willingly; he didn't want to part from that gaze. "But if you ever throw something at me while you are angry like that again, this is all over." The Prince's eyes hardened into iron, cold and unbreakable. "I will not be married and bound to a man who is angry and drunk and takes it out on those around him. Understood?"
Antinous nodded slowly and lost the fight not to cry. "I'm sorry." He was shaking, Telemachus was running the cool wet rag over his cheeks, cleaning him of blood and tears. He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. "Why? Why am I not enough?"
The rag was set aside and Antinous opened his eyes again when Telemachus cupped his face gently with both hands. He couldn't quite decipher the sad expression on the Prince's face, but it hurt still to see it. He didn't want to make Telemachus sad, didn't like that he kept doing it on accident. "You are enough, Antinous." He shivered at those words, not believing them. "And I will not touch you -- not like that, at least -- because you are worth so much more than that." Telemachus leaned forward and Antinous went willingly, pressing their foreheads together, savoring the closeness. "I did not buy you. You are not a paid for thing for me to use however I want; you are worth so much more than what they do to you."
Antinous didn't quite believe him, but he tried.
"Then you're the only one who thinks that." He hadn't meant to say the words, but there was too much alcohol and not enough blood in him at that moment to stop himself. "This isn't the first time they've done this, Telemachus. It won't be the last."
Something darkened in Telemachus's eyes, but Antinous was not afraid. Not of him, not anymore. "Then I can make it the last time."
That made him afraid. "No!" He jerked away, seizing Telemachus's shoulders. "No, no no no!" He shook his head, grit his teeth against the dizzying wave of nausea that brought. "Little wolf, you can't! If it's not me, if you make him stop, it's worse!" He sobbed, still digging his nails into Telemachus as the Prince cupped his face, pulled him close, murmured gentle reassurances to him as Antinous sobbed into his chest. "You d-don't understand. If it's not m-me, it's Helena."
Telemachus went deathly still in Antinous's grip as he continued to cry and beg. He couldn't see the Prince's face from where his own was buried against the man's chest, but he could feel his horror. He felt the way his breathing shuddered, heard the skip in his heart, felt how his hands shook where they held Antinous against him. "What?" The question was more of a whisper than a word, air pushed out as his body fought for air and his mind struggled to wrap around the same terror that had been beaten into Antinous's bones from the moment his daughter was born. "No, he wouldn't, she's a child --"
Antinous scoffed. "So was I." He didn't want to think about the memories his words dredged up, but he clung to Telemachus. He kept his face pressed to his chest, blocking out the world. "I was only 10 years old when my mother died, Telemachus. He doesn't care." Helena was so small. She was just a baby still, four years old, quiet and scared, her big, doe-eyed stare holding more fear than any child ever should. Antinous had failed to protect her in so many ways, but he would not, could not, fail her this way. She was the reason he was still alive, the reason he fought with tooth and nail to stay in this world that did not want him. "She wouldn't survive him, Tele. She is too small. I can't leave her behind, I can't --"
He broke into sobs again. Telemachus held him, murmuring, "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," into his hair, rocking with him. They pressed against each other, breathing each other in.
This time, when Antinous looked up and they pressed their foreheads together, it was easy and natural to shift forward and kiss him. Telemachus started against him, but he did not pull away. He was warm and soft against Antinous's lips, submitting to his gentle exploration. They broke apart a moment later with twin gasps, foreheads still pressed close. "Antinous . . ." Antinous shuddered at his name, a broken gasp, on the Prince's tongue. "We can't." Telemachus's fingers were warm and solid as he held Antinous, cradling his jaw. "Not like this."
"I know." Antinous sighed, biting back more tears at the rejection. Please. Just for tonight, I don't want anyone else. I just want you. Still, he clung to Telemachus, soaking in his gentle warmth. He didn't deserve this man, this kind, strong, perfect man who had promised to protect him and who cried when he was hurt. Antinous was broken and used and not enough to be worth him. Worth his love.
And fuck, Antinous loved him, so much. He loved him like he hadn't ever loved another man before, needed him closer, needed to be with him. He wanted Telemachus to be the first one he gave himself to without fear or so drunk he could barely remember what he was doing. But Telemachus would never want him like that, and it would hurt to be so close, to be married and unable to show the other man just how much he loved him. Antinous wouldn't have it any other way now, but it would hurt. "Just, don't leave?" He whispered the request, shifting to lay his head on Telemachus's shoulder. "I don't wanna wake up alone."
Telemachus held him there. "Then you won't."
* * * * * * * *
They shared the bed for the first time that night. Telemachus barely slept as he held Antinous against him, their bodies pressed close, legs entwined. They were facing one another so that Antinous could see him, could trace gentle touches over Telemachus's face whenever he woke from his nightmares, shaking and murmuring his name as he moved closer. Each time Telemachus would whisper, "I'm here, Antin. I'm right here." Antinous would sigh, press impossibly closer, and slip back into dreaming.
Telemachus could hardly believe the man in his arms, snoring softly and nuzzled against him, was the same one who had made him so afraid for so many years. That same fear had flashed in him momentarily when Antinous had shouted and thrown his wine at Telemachus, but the broken words and tears that followed showed his anger for what it truly was. Fear, pure and simple. Telemachus wasn't a fool; he knew people were trapped in unhappy and abusive marriages with men who drank themselves into a rage and who were excused in their violence because their partner only ever saw the hurt. He could fall into that same emotional trap, unintentional by both parties but no less deadly, just as easily.
But he could not make himself leave Antinous like this. He could not pull away and let Antinous wake up alone. He didn't know how to help him, how to convince the man that his growing drinking problem had to stop, that he could protect him, that Helena and his sisters would be safe and he didn't have to submit to his father's cruelties anymore. Telemachus knew he would never be able to pull Antinous out of this spiral while Eupeithes had his claws in him and had control over the girls.
He supposed he would have to make sure that control was broken, then. And he would need his mother's help to do it.
* * * * * * * *
Antinous woke groggily and Telemachus had delighted in teasing him about his sleepy blinks, his slow, murmured slur of words, and the way his hair had a mind of it's own. He'd gone through the painstaking process to undo his locs a few weeks before, and hours and hours of swearing and combing and copious amounts of olive oil later, he'd finally been able to cut his tight curls into a shoulder-length mane. Telemachus loved seeing how the curls seemed to have a mind of their own, the tight little coils bouncing and shifting as Antinous sat up and yawned, still bleary-eyed and mumbling, and he thought the change was a good one on him. A crown would look amazing in his hair.
Half attempting to banish the sudden embarrassment at his own thoughts, Telemachus cleared his throat to get Antinous's attention as he stood from the bed and made his way to the wardrobe. "I was thinking," He sorted through his clothing, finding a lighter chiton and cool, light-blue himation of linen for the warm spring air, "Maybe we should go to your family's estate today. Your father is still gone for a few days, and we could bring the girls back to the palace to meet my mother."
As always, the excitement of seeing his family cut through whatever hangover and exhaustion was clinging to Antinous. "That sounds perfect." He beamed, brushing his curls out of his face, and Telemachus turned to his his blush. He could almost pretend they were just a normal couple, a Prince and his fiancée planning their day together. But as he carefully changed, conscious of the way Antinous turned away to give him privacy, he heard the nervous shuffling of Antinous's feet on the rugs beside the bed. "Telemachus, about last night --"
"It's fine," he lied, fixing a clasp over his shoulder and reaching for his sword belt. He stopped, remembering how Antinous was always insistent they not bring weapons into the house, and turned to Antinous. The other man wasn't looking at him, his face down turned and shoulders hunched, and Telemachus's chest burned with the weight of everything between them. "Whatever it is, it's fine."
Antinous's face twisted. "It's not fine, Telemachus." He tried not to let his shiver at his name show. Antinous so rarely called him by name, even now, that it felt like he had been struck by Zeus. "I shouldn't have gotten angry at you like that. I . . ." His eyes strayed to the door, to the room with the broken amphora and the spilled wine. Where we kissed. Telemachus pushed that thought aside, didn't let himself think of how he had almost given in to Antinous's drunken fumbling, almost crossed a line he had sworn never to cross and taken advantage of his vulnerability and intoxication. Antinous turned back to him, looking up now with iron in his eyes. "I won't be like my father, just a drunkard who frightens his family with his rage." He softened, looked away again. "I'm so sorry."
Telemachus moved closer, took Antinous's calloused and scarred hands in his own smooth ones. His knuckles were still swollen and bruised from the fight the day before. Antinous went willingly, watching with curiosity and not fear as Telemachus ran his thumbs over his swollen fingers. "I know, Antinous." They met each other's gaze and he reached up, running his own knuckles over Antinous's cheek. A lump formed in his throat when Antinous's eyes fluttered closed and he pressed closer, into Telemachus's touch. "You promise it won't happen again?"
"I swear." The words were firm and quick, unwavering as Antinous opened his eyes and met Telemachus's own hard gaze. "Never again."
Telemachus smiled. "Then I believe you."
* * * * * * * *
Telemachus knew something was wrong when Helena didn't greet them at the door with her happy squeals for her father's hugs and kisses. Not once, in all their secret little visits, had the little girl failed to come running and been scooped into Antinous's arms to be showered in affection and love. Not once had the twins failed to swarm them and tug Telemachus deeper into the house for more lessons on reading and writing, politics and history, and stories from his own books back from his childhood. Not once.
The silence now as they crossed the threshold into their home had him tensing behind Antinous, who's breathing stuttered as he turned to push Telemachus back through the door. "Go, now, little wolf please --"
"Antinous." Telemachus saw the way Antinous's soul left him, his eyes going hazy and grey like the dead at the single cold word. He gripped Antinous's hand tightly and plastered on his best politicians smile as he stepped past his future husband, ignoring his panicked grabbing to shove him back again, and planted himself between Eupeithes and Antinous like a shield. "Lord Eupeithes, what a surprise! I thought you were due in Chalcis for the next few days?"
Antinous's father studied Telemachus quietly, his own clearly false smile in place as he traded a handshake with the man. Telemachus felt Antinous shudder behind him from where they were still pressed close together, two large men framed awkwardly in the small entryway, and knew that he had to tread carefully. Until he and Antinous traded their vows in front of the people of the island and the gods, there was nothing he could do to stop Eupeithes from hurting the man he loved; he had to sell himself as the clueless, naïve Prince or he would be putting Antinous in danger.
"A storm blew in to the east and the captains advised that I delay our voyage another day." Eupeithes's beady eyes were locked on Antinous over Telemachus's shoulder. "Though, I didn't know you tracked my schedule so closely, your highness?"
Something in the way the man said his title made Telemachus's teeth grind behind his smile. "Oh, well, old habit." He let a false blush of embarrassment, easy to call from the way his heart was pounding as he still held Antinous's hand in his own like a lifeline. "I like to know when my family is at sea, I am sure you can understand my, uh, anxieties around voyages . . ."
Antinous's hand squeezed his in a silent thank you. He had told Telemachus that his father would be gone for the week and that they could move freely, in a way, until his return.
Eupeithes bought the lie, or Telemachus thought he did as the man gave him a sad, pitying look that made his mouth taste of ash. Using his true anxieties that sat heavy on his heart after his father's disappearance to appease this monster felt wrong, unholy in its own way. "Oh, I do suppose we will be family soon, eh?" Finally, thankfully, he waved them further into the house, towards the dining room. "Though I will admit I am surprised to see you here, your highness. I hadn't thought our great Prince would want to visit such a humble home of a merchant like myself."
Humble. Eupeithes was one of the richest men on their islands and his lands and home reflected that fact; the manor was a sprawling thing, a long U of three buildings, each two stories, and many other small structures in the back for storage, stables, and what have you. Granted, it was smaller than the massive fortress of a palace that Odysseus had built, but Telemachus would bet good money that few lords on the islands had a home as large as this one. All the better to hide away your son while you beat him like he's nothing more than a mangy dog.
"Oh, my apologies, Lord Eupeithes." He shrugged, pulled a far too silent and still Antinous along beside him, and leaned against him like a lovestruck fool when they sat beside each other. "I had wanted to meet Antinous's sisters, and I was hoping to introduce them to my mother soon." That part, at least, was true. The man didn't need to know he had met the girls dozens of times by now. "You see, Mother wants to begin their training soon, that way they are presentable to the foreign dignitaries who will be in attendance at our wedding." Antinous twitched beside him, but said nothing. "If they are to be Duchesses of Ithaca, we want to give them the best debut we can, of course."
Eupeithes wasn't even looking at him, good. He was staring at Antinous, anger flashing, but he had written Telemachus off already. Let me be invisible to you, vile man. He thought, squeezing Antinous's hand tighter when he could feel his shaking. It will be all the easier to destroy you from behind. When the man's eyes turned back to him, the ire had faded, appeased again by the half-truth. "Of course, your highness. Antinous must have been kind enough to extend the invitation to you?"
"Yes, sir." Antinous's eyes did not raise from the table and he was shaking like a leaf. Telemachus braced their shoulders against each other to conceal the tiny trembling, steadying him as best he could. "To be honest, my lord, your son insisted I wait for your return, but I was over-eager. I will admit I'm a bit embarrassed to be caught in my haste." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. It was better if Eupeithes thought him the weak boy the other Suitors saw him as until Antinous and the girls were safe. He would bury a blade in the man's spine the second it was safe to do so; until then, he could pretend.
Telemachus had plenty of practice pretending to be meeker than he was. He could use that to protect Antinous now.
Eupeithes bought his demurring again. "I suppose I can excuse it." He gave Telemachus a playful grin and Telemachus fought the urge to growl and launch himself across the table at the man. Eupeithes stood and made his way to the cart by the window, pouring himself a drink as he barked, "Boy, find your sisters; best not to keep the Prince waiting."
Was Telemachus imagining the double meaning in those words? Antinous flinched and released Telemachus, scrambling off to carry out his father's orders. Telemachus hated the way he moved, cowed and trembling, like a dog kicked one too many times by his owner. He was so silent, still and jumpy at the same time, and it made his heart ache to watch Antinous go. You are here; Eupeithes will not hurt him with you around to witness it.
He jumped when Eupeithes set a cup of mead, strong enough to make his nose burn from the table, in front of him and he turned back to face the monster. Eupeithes frowned after the hall where Antinous had disappeared, swirling his own drink. "I do apologize that I could not make the boy more presentable for you." Telemachus had to take a drink to avoid shouting as Eupeithes turned back to face him. "He is quite the simple man, and I have been unable to rectify his horrid attitude over the years. I hope he has not caused you too much trouble?" Eupeithes smirked, winking. "He hasn't, excuse my forwardness m'lord, held out on you, has he? I can assure you, there is no need to wait; the boy is familiar enough with his role as an eromenos to please you, I am sure."
Telemachus stilled. Before he could stop himself, a growl was rising in his throat, rumbling and deep as he clenched his hand so tightly the cup in his fist groaned. "What did you just say to me?" Eupeithes's grin vanished and he leaned back in his chair as Telemachus stood, pushing his own seat back with the force of it. "How dare you?"
Eupeithes stood, fear flashing in his dark eyes as he held his hands up in a calming gesture. Telemachus's blood was boiling; was this man truly so brash, so vile as to offer his son up like a piece of meat to Telemachus in Antinous's home?! "My lord, I meant no offense." He bowed his head slightly and Telemachus could not deny the sick thrill of satisfaction he felt at seeing the shiver go down the man's spine. "Of course, a man such as yourself is too virtuous to disrespect the God-Queen's demands and stoop so low prior to his marriage bed." Never mind that they were in this situation because Telemachus had done just that with Ophelia. "I meant only that, uh, you needn't worry about my son's performance, so to say, in the marriage bed when the time comes. I can assure you that he will be perfectly suited to your highness's needs --"
"Stop talking." Telemachus shook his head. Eupeithes looked surprised, confused, and he frowned at Telemachus. "Your highness, it is no issue. Antinous can be stubborn, but if you apply the right pressure, he submits to his place beneath you easily enough."
Telemachus did not recognize the harsh, growling snarl that came from him as he loomed over Eupeithes. He rounded the table quickly and backed the man into the wall, pinning him in place with his hands braced on the stone. Eupeithes's eyes were wide, the whites showing as he stared up at Telemachus, who used the few inches he had on the man to bare down on him. Let him remember that Telemachus was the child of a Spartan Princess and a man who had fought for and won the city of Troy, and man descendant of one of the Olympians themselves.
He leaned closer, savoring the fear in the man, that same fear this creature had beaten into Antinous over the years. "If I ever hear you say such things about my future husband again, I will personally ensure your death is not painless, you spineless whelp." Eupeithes gaped at him, spluttering out protests until Telemachus's fist smashed into the stone above him and he was silenced with a whimper. "Antinous is mine now, do you understand me? You will do nothing to hurt him, nor his sisters, nor his daughter," He saw the shock flash in Eupeithes at the admission that he knew who Helena truly was, "Or I will revoke every bit of xenia's protections on your hide. The God-King will not protect you from my wrath if you harm him again, do you understand me?"
Eupeithes was trembling below him, but he sneered, shoving Telemachus back a half-step. Telemachus's blood rang with pleasure at the flash of fear in the man when he was barely moved. "You can't do that, Prince." He hissed, laughing cruelly. "You are not King yet, boy. You have no rights to the lands and house of your Father."
"Careful, Eupeithes." Telemachus tilted his head to one side, glanced around them as he heard the murmur of Antinous and Lena's voices approaching from the hall. "Treason will not help you here. Stay away from Antinous and the girls; as you said," He grinned as Antinous came into the room again, holding Helena close with the twins hiding behind him, all four silent and staring between him and their disheveled father. "We're family now. And I protect my family."
It wasn't hard then, to grab Antinous's free hand and usher him and the girls away. One look from him had Antinous silencing his unspoken question and soon enough, Helena was sat in front of Antinous and the twins sharing a horse from their stables as Telemachus mounted his own stallion and tossed a glance back at the door to the house. Eupeithes was glaring at him, fire and the promise of pain so weak compared to the anger in Telemachus's blood, and he turned his back on the man to face Antinous's wide-eyed stare. "Let's go home."