Chapter Text
Telemachus paused mid-step when he saw Antinous not only standing in front of the old wall painting of his father, but daring to touch it. It depicted Odysseus on top of a dead boar with his chin held high, an impressive piece that Telemachus wasn’t even sure he was allowed to disturb. And Antinous was spreading both of his hands against it.
“Don’t you dare touch that!”
Antinous looked over his shoulder. “Calm down. I was just admiring the painting”
“You shouldn’t even be near it.”
Antinous rolled his eyes but took his hands off the wall. “Happy?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a shame.” Antinous crossed his arms, stepping back slightly, but still lingering near the painting. “I still want to look at it, though. Don’t think you can stop me.”
Telemachus stood beside the suitor and crossed his arms as well. They admired the wall together, angrily.
Until their gazes softened. How could they not? It was a nice painting. And the orange lighting was beautiful.
“He was slightly cool…” Antinous whispered.
“He is super cool,” Telemachus corrected, “he’s still alive.”
Antinous tilted his head, considering. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But it’s been months since we got word that the war was over. And it’s a ten-day journey, fifteen at most, to get back home. No ships have returned.”
Telemachus’ stomach twisted, but he refused to let the doubt settle in. “He’s alive,” he insisted.
Antinous made a noncommittal noise, tilting his head toward the painting. “You know what they’re saying, right? That The Storm got him.”
Telemachus said nothing.
The Storm, placed by the gods to punish those who had sacked their temples in Ilion. Who were most of the men who had gone to the war.
The ruthless waves of Poseidon, the cruel lighting and thunder of Zeus and the backstabbing winds of Aeolus combined. A storm that would not fade unless someone managed to win any of the aforementioned gods’ favors, or they all died.
It had a conscious of its own, and let common people cross it while spitting out the triremes, the warships.
“The Storm,” Antinous continued, “isn’t something you just… outsmart. It has a will of its own. If the gods have decided he doesn’t get to come home, then that’s it.”
Telemachus looked down, “I know my father. He’s strong and clever and never gives up. He’ll find a way around it.”
Antinous glanced at him, then smirked. “You don’t know him, though. I mean, you were, what, three when he left? You only know the stories. The myths. But you don’t actually know the man.”
“I remember some things, like his frame, even if the image is extremely blurry.”
“…”
“…”
“I hope he finds a way back home…” Antinous admitted, earning a surprised look from the prince. “I mean– it would be better for me if he didn’t return, since I’d get to be the king of Ithaca–”
Telemachus snorted, rolling his eyes. “Sure,” Telemachus’ sarcasm couldn’t be more obvious.
“–but,” Antinous went on, “I wouldn’t mind if he came back. You deserve to know him. Like, actually know him,” he clarified, “more than just the stories, or one burning memory.”
Something about the way he said it made Telemachus’ chest feel tight. He wasn’t sure if he liked that.
Telemachus looked into Antinous’ eyes. He was so handsome under the orange lighting. His sharp features looked gentler in this light, almost… warm. It annoyed Telemachus, for some reason.
The prince hated him, but he wasn’t blind.
He would normally say something; he was known for complimenting the servants and guests. He liked being kind to people, as he believed it would make his (future) people like him more.
But this felt different. Maybe because he knew Antinous would answer something like “I know,” like the egocentric piece of shit he was. That alone made Telemachus not want to compliment him.
He shrugged, and Antinous noticed.
“You don’t want to meet him?”
Oh, right, they were having a conversation. Telemachus got distracted.
“Of course, I do,” Telemachus said quickly. “I just…” He hesitated.
“Are you scared that he won’t see you as your son when he comes back? That he’ll think you’re too weak?”
Who did he think he was!? “I–”
“That’s dumb,” he concluded, “being weak doesn’t make you any less his son.”
Telemachus scowled. “Did you just call me weak? Twice in a row?”
Antinous shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t think I do.”
Antinous rolled his eyes. “What I mean is,” he said, as if speaking to a child, “if he comes back and acts like you’re not enough, then he’s the idiot, not you. That’s on him.” He nodded at his own logic, as if that settled it.
Telemachus frowned. “Thanks??” He shouldn’t be thanking the suitor, really. He talked about his father assuming he was an asshole, which went against every single story his mom had told him about the man. His dad wouldn’t look down on him, would he? It wouldn’t be first time that thought crossed Telemachus’ mind, but it was an irrational fear, his dad wouldn’t…
Antinous smirked. “You’re welcome.”
A pause.
They stayed silent for a bit, looking at the painting. There weren’t enough details to justify them still being in that room. It wasn’t that great after fifteen minutes of active observation. It was mostly Telemachus thinking about his own relationship with his father, or lack thereof.
Antinous kept him company. He sat on the floor and crossed his legs as he waited for the prince to do or say something.
“I want to be strong like him.”
“You are strong.”
“I meant physically.” No matter what Antinous said, it always seemed to piss him off.
“Then train.”
Telemachus’ eye twitched, “I used to, but then a dozen men came into our home uninvited, with the intention of staying, and, you see, it’s quite awkward to train in front of people who won’t stop laughing at you.”
“Nobody’s laughing at you. And you can’t just stop training!” Antinous seemed more entitled than Telemachus. “More and more suitors are going to keep coming, you know,” Antinous pointed out. “From other islands, too. What are you gonna do when the Argives get here next month?”
First came the Ithacans. Then, a couple of Pylians. And a dozen of Argives were scheduled to come as well next month if the king hadn’t returned. Nobody knew how many more suitors would come.
“I know. It’s just that I always mess up when people watch me. I end up making a fool of myself every time I lift my sword.” Telemachus sat on the floor next to Antinous.
“Do you want me to show you a secret spot where you can train? In the forest.”
Telemachus smirked, this was his opportunity to make fun of the suitor he hated so much, “In the forest? Aren’t you worried I’ll step on your pretty flowers?”
Antinous laugh was so soft. It didn’t match his appearance at all. Telemachus caught himself holding his breath for a second. Did Antinous believe Telemachus was laughing with him instead of at him? “There aren’t many flowers to ruin anymore, I think I’ve turned them all into bouquets already.”
“Ah.”
Telemachus blinked, caught off guard. He had expected some sarcastic remark, not an honest answer. He looked back at the painting.
Maybe he could follow Antinous into the forest.
…
“Here we are!!” Antinous finally let go of Telemachus’ hand. “The path is pretty straightforward, right? Just walk until you find the cut tree, then go right until you see the funny-shaped rock, then go left, cross the river, and enjoy the view!”
It was truly beautiful. The end of the path was marked by a giant rock wall, where the waterfall thundered down into a pool.
Too bad it was nighttime and they could barely see. The moonlight reflected on the water beautifully, but that was it.
“You’re acting as if I’ll remember all that…” The prince said, panting, “If I had known this place was so far away, I would’ve told you to come here tomorrow morning. Mom must be losing her mind…” Telemachus hadn’t warned her, thinking they would be able to come back in time for dinner.
“Oh, absolutely. She’s probably forming a search party as we speak.”
“Not funny.”
“Kinda funny.”
“This place is beautiful, though. Even if I can’t see half of it. But, do we really need to go this far just to train? I’m already dying…”
“The walking is part of the training, little wolf,” Antinous would never not call Telemachus that, “how else will those legs get stronger?” Antinous shouted.
“If I wanted to train my legs, I’d run up and down the palace stairs. At least that way I’d be home in time for dinner,” Telemachus shouted back.
“That’s boring. No waterfalls. No risk of getting lost in the dark and dying dramatically in the wilderness.”
Antinous gestured ahead, they walked closer to the base of the waterfall.
“You really live for theatrics, don’t you?”
“Of course.” He said something else but Telemachus couldn’t hear his voice over the waterfall.
“What? It’s so loud, I can barely hear you!”
“Well, I hadn’t thought of that before bringing you here,” Antinous confessed, “I don’t normally need to hold conversations while I’m here. But I like the noise, drowns your own thoughts!”
“Antinous the Thoughtful…” Telemachus teased.
“Hey! I’m a man of depth, Telemachus. There’s more to me than my handsome face.”
“Right,” the prince said flatly.
“There’s a cave nearby where I keep all my stuff, and it cancels a lot of the noise from the waterfall.”
“This is how people get murdered, you know. I’m not following you into a cave,” he said, as he followed Antinous into the cave.
There were some torches in the walls already, which Antinous quickly lit up.
“Then I guess you better hope I like you too much to kill you.”
“Whoa,” Telemachus tested the echo. He expected more, but the cave wasn’t big enough. “Aw,” he said with disappointment in his face.
“Welcome to my personal training room,” Antinous pointed at the multiple weapons, shields, and dummies aligned at the wall of the cave.
“This… isn’t creepy at all,” Telemachus didn’t know what else to add.
“Glad you think so!” Antinous responded sarcasm with more sarcasm.
“Wait a second– did you steal some of these from the palace armory??”
“Steal? What a harsh word.” Antinous looked away. “I borrowed them.”
“Without permission.”
“Exactly. A true warrior doesn’t wait for permission.”
“A true thief, maybe.”
“You wound me.” There was no sarcasm, or maybe the prince hadn’t picked it up.
The lighting was so different from the last time he saw the suitor laugh (a couple of hours ago at most). And his laugh was different too, he sounded more like a villain. Not as genuine.
The little wolf gulped. Maybe this was it, maybe he’d die today. But he wasn’t exactly scared, didn’t believe his own thoughts. His gut didn’t tell him he was in danger. The suitor kept his distance and wasn’t getting closer to the weapons either.
Telemachus did seriously question if the suitor had been blessed by a god with the ability to read minds when the suitor flatly said, “If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t go through all this effort. That’s way too much walking just to commit murder.”
“Less chances for people to find my body the further we are from home.”
Antinous chuckles. “True, I hadn’t thought of that… But, I did bring you here for a reason. If you want to train, you can come whenever you want. No one will bother you here.”
Telemachus, softening slightly, “…Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.”
A pause.
“How did you find this place?”
“When arriving to Ithaca, my father used to anchor his ship near the mouth of the river. I simply followed it and found out that it was relatively close to the palace on a map.”
“Is your father a pirate?”
Antinous’ eyes widened. “How’d you know?”
“He has a ship, and refuses to moor the ship to the dock. It’s not a big assumption to make. And I was right, wasn’t I?” The prince was very smug about getting this random fact correct.
The suitor looked away. “He wasn’t a great man. He took what he wanted and left nothing but ruin behind.”
“Oh?” Telemachus didn’t know if he should be the one listening to this. He was curious to know about the suitor’s past, but wouldn’t the suitor regret sharing sensitive information later?
“I would’ve preferred if he let them kill Eupeithes, my father.”
The younger man blinked twice, he wasn’t following. What the hell was Antinous on?
“When I was little, he raided Thesprotia, an allied kingdom. He burned villages, took their grain, their cattle. The Thesprotians wanted his head for it, and they would’ve had it if not for the infamous King of Ithaca.”
Telemachus’ smile faded. Antinous had mentioned his father, and now he was fully paying attention to his words. “What does my father have to do with any of this.” It wasn’t a question.
“Odysseus stood between him and the people who wanted him dead. Convinced them to let him go. Maybe he thought he was being merciful. Maybe he saw some use in keeping my father alive.
“I should be grateful to your father, he saved mine, after all. But my father kept raiding, kept taking from people who had nothing. Do you know how many sons lost their fathers because of him? How many homes he burned? Odysseus had the power to stop him. He didn’t.”
“…”
The prince knew his father never acted without reason. If he spared Eupeithes, he must have had a plan. But he also knew Antinous wasn’t wrong. If Eupeithes had kept raiding, kept hurting people, then Odysseus’ mercy had cost lives.
“Alright, let’s go back now,” Antinous proposed, his cocky grin returning.
“Before my mom sends a small army to find me.”
What Eupeithes, father of Antinous, had done in the past didn’t matter.
Because Antinous wasn’t his father.
“Small army? No, no. A full battalion, at least.” Antinous laughed, but meant every word.
“Dramatic.” Telemachus rolled his eyes.
What Odysseus, father of Telemachus, had done in the past… Antinous couldn’t forget, couldn’t forgive. He grew up in a horrible household, with a horrible father, because the king couldn’t take one life. One life had ruined that of hundreds, and his own.
But Telemachus wasn’t his father.
“Well, if I get executed for kidnapping the prince, at least it will be a memorable story.”
Telemachus scoffed at the words executed and kidnapped. But it was probably true, he knew his mom.
“You didn’t kidnap me.” Telemachus rolled his eyes.
“Try telling her that.”
It would be best if Telemachus didn’t mention where he had been or why.
…
That had to be the worst trip, objectively speaking. They spent two hours to get to the place, stayed there for twelve minutes, and then spent another two hours to get back to the palace.
They told the queen Telemachus took a nap under an olive tree, slept in, and Antinous found him.
But Telemachus never took naps outside, he hated getting his clothes dirty and would never risk waking up to a bug crawling on top of him.
His ragged breath and the way he didn’t look her in the eyes told an entirely different story.
Plus, how come it was Antinous who found Telemachus supposedly sleeping under a tree when none of her guards had found the prince in a hundred-meter radius?
Thinking about Antinous, she hadn’t sent him to look for the missing prince because he himself was missing. She hadn’t seen him in the palace when she alerted everyone.
She pretended to believe them and let them go.
An olive tree, really?
