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The streets of the town bustled with activity, despite the biting chill hanging in the air. Passersby ambled with purpose, street merchants cried out the many uses and appeals of their goods to them, a few spirited, red-faced children chased each other between the taller bodies. Careful haggling and friendly conversations rang out, lively in a pleasant way.
The only oddity to be seen was the stark rarity of any man aging past the mid-thirties. An oddity Prince Telemachus had never seen any place in Ithaca without, one that burned at his core when he gave it thought but slipped his attention mostly. His mother used to joke, with burnt, weary umber eyes, that the one upside of so many of their men going off to the war was the relative peace and quiet it brought the island. Of course, that was before the numbers of guests they were hosting had swollen to such an absurd size, before they had been anywhere near so bold, so unruly. Nowadays, Queen Penelope spent so many of her days shut away in her chambers avoiding, appeasing and delaying.
Only Telemachus still truly had the opportunity to venture outside the palace walls once in a while. Not that he took that opportunity very often, wary of leaving his mother alone in what was becoming a den of rabid beasts, guilty for taking a moment to get away from their overwhelming home turned unending tribulation when she couldn’t. Thus, he would often just return to the palace as soon as the heavy cyclone over his lungs and soul receded again. Some might call it irrational. It was clear that the rabble they were forced to host would have to be foolish to actually try something, but they had made it clear that all of their parents must have sorely neglected their prayers to Athena for blessings of wisdom upon their sons. One stupid animal was easily dealt with but a horde of them could be whipped up into a frenzy with barely a single lifted finger.
Telemachus shook himself and stood away from the wall he’d leant against. A quick stroll down to the beaches - a breath of cold sea air to dispel his mind’s over the top fretting - and then he’d head home. Really, it wasn’t as if he could be much help other than being another, less effective body-shield alongside the guards. For as much as those vile hedonists enjoyed provoking him, cackling and shoving him to the ground if he dared talk back, Telemachus hadn’t been in a true fight, nor had he ever managed to shove one of them down in return. The most he could do was dodge. Cold air whipped his cheeks as he strode towards the sea. Stood on the sands, staring out at the waters, a sigh escaped him.
I wonder. If you were still here…
Before the thought could complete itself, Telemachus heard footsteps. He turned warily to look and see who approached - and he was immediately vindicated in his caution; Antinous, de facto leader of his mother’s suitors, was behind him. Slow, firm steps towards him had Telemachus immediately stepping back. Was he trying to ambush him? Why not bring along his lackeys like usual? His face was unusually blank of the typical smirk, only watching Telemachus, intent and inscrutable as he loomed closer.
“What do you want?” Telemachus called, barely stopping himself spitting the words with the usual amount of venom. This situation felt different to the smug, mocking aggression Antinous would throw at him when surrounded by his fellows. Less overtly hostile. Less certain.
The other didn’t reply yet, only stepping closer. Telemachus backed away, eyes never leaving the other’s even as he failed to yet decipher this strange mood. Antinous stopped and so did he.
“Prince Telemachus,” he stated solemnly. No nickname, no grin. Telemachus grit his teeth. “I thought you should be informed of something.”
“... And what’s that?” breathed the young prince, chest tight. His whole body was tensed to bolt. Antinous’ mouth twitched.
“Yesterday, I happened to overhear a number of men having a … discussion.” And when Telemachus only blinked, he continued: “They were plotting.”
“Plotting what?” he asked, throat tight. Just what was happening here?
Antinous stared at him. “Of course, Your Highness knows the men grow restless the longer your mother’s grief lasts, the longer the throne is without a king.” he said with a sigh. This unusual respect was chilling. “They spoke very troublingly of breaking into her majesty the queen’s chambers in a few days, of forcing themselves upon her.” His tone spoke of great shock and horror. Telemachus’ heart raged, churning and crashing. When was this happening? He had to get back to the palace immediately!
…
He stayed still and stared, letting the tides calm. He’d heard this very same man countless times before speaking of his violating mother in equally foul ways and far cruder terms. He’d seen him appease, command and direct the other suitors’ rowdiness far too easily for one who was their direct competition. “And you just decided to tell me this?” the prince asked, carefully watching Antinous’ face. His brows creased gently into a ceramic frown.
“Of course,” he said, stepping closer, towering over Telemachus. “It’s a serious threat to the queen, how could I take that lightly?”
Telemachus eyed him. Just how many times have you implied the exact same vile threat as a taunt now? Even not intimately knowing the man’s tells, Antinous’ insincerity couldn’t be any more plain to see. Raising a brow, Telemachus held the look for a moment, ‘til the man’s mouth broke into a small, crooked grin.
“Ah, you caught me, little wolf,” said Antinous, eyes flashing. He leaned over slightly, staring. The move was making Telemachus very aware of how much larger he was than him in every capacity - likely deliberately. “That is, I told no lie; I did catch sight and sound of those idiots trying to plot behind everyone’s backs.” In so doing, probably undermining Antinous’ authority in his eyes. “And of course, not to say that I don’t find their plans just terrible,” he said with blatantly feigned condemnation, “but it isn’t as though I’d suffer from being rid of them.”
Telemachus kept his total focus on the unwavering face. On the one hand, it made a certain sense, getting rid of those among the suitors’ ranks who acted without his command while also thinning his supposed competition for the queen’s hand. On the other … Telemachus just couldn’t see that being the entirety of it. With the way he wrangled those hordes effortlessly, why would Antinous ever feel the need to seek outside intervention to bring these men to heel, let alone going to him? Getting them back under his command would ensure their numbers stayed strong. If nothing else, he surely could have had them thwarted and excised by all the countless of those hounds that did obey him.
“Hmm. Just how many of your dogs were involved in this?” Telemachus barked, barely containing his acid contempt. Antinous’ face twitched inscrutably.
“Six. I counted six men when I overheard them speak. Their idea is to storm the queen’s bedchambers in the evening, around the middle of the guards’ shift, overpower them and enter.” It sounded like the sort of ‘plan’ come up with by emboldened, riled up, drunken fools, with no real aim beside vile, animal hedonism. Queen Penelope’s suite was usually protected by a pair of the palace’s guards. They were trained as well as could be considering Ithaca’s circumstances, but a group of six could surely overpower them. “As the man of the house,” said Antinous with a grin, “surely you’ll make sure they can be caught before anything terrible happens.”
And in order to do that, he’d either need to divert guards and wait around to catch those men in the act, or bring forth the testimony of their plans beforehand to have reasonable cause to eject guests from the palace without trampling on the laws of Xenia. Testimony that Antinous was offering him. So here it is. Partial credit for preventing such an crime would certainly give the man a virtuous, noble image contrasting to the opportunism of the rest of his cohort - and to Antinous’ own vile words spoken amongst his fellow swine. A boost to his reputation would set him apart in the weary eyes of Ithaca, deep down wanting for a new king to bring back prosperity even as she admired her queen’s steadfast fidelity. Perhaps Antinous even held a foolish hope that this act would endear him to Telemachus’ mother.
Staring at this presumptuous brute before him, Telemachus was half tempted to act on his own. If Antinous was making himself irreplaceable in eradicating those vermin beforehand, why let him have the satisfaction and the credit? Two more guards were stationed outside Telemachus’ room at night. As the prince, he could divert them and a couple more to watch over his mother’s chambers, wait outside himself to catch those villains in the act and have indisputable evidence of their wrongdoing. It would be a perfect way to impede Antinous’ scheming…
Except, Telemachus had never fought in a real fight. Nor was he aware of any similar situation in his lifetime where the guards had to do more than chase off a lone thief, tested their shiny, unused mettle against anyone more than a couple of brash, inebriated suitors trying to get in a brawl they couldn’t even properly start. All of them were either so old or young they’d been left behind when the war stole Ithaca’s men those long decades ago - could Telemachus really bring himself to wait, to stake his mother’s wellbeing on their ability, on his own total inexperience, for the sake of spiting one man? It wasn’t even a question.
Telemachus huffed as he glanced at the ground, biting his lip trying to force the words up and out of his throat. “And you would be willing to point out those six men? To testify as witness to their barbarousness, so I might have them thrown out?” he asked, clenching his teeth. Could only the brutal match up against each other’s cruelty? Would they be always doomed to make do with one monster’s presence for fend off another’s? Antinous’ sharp teeth glinted, drawing Telemachus' eye once more as he loomed, resting one arm heavy on the young prince’s shoulder and leaning closer. His hot breath grazed Telemachus’ skin as he spoke.
“Why of course I would, little wolf.” Those dark, piercing eyes stab into his, freeze him on the spot. “How could I refuse such an ardent appeal for my help?” he asked melodically. It gave not the impression of one willingly assenting to aid justice, but the image of a ravenous beast offering to accompany a nervous young maiden home, who recognised not the true nature of the monster before her.
“It’s human decency,” said Telemachus - unable to help that his tone conveyed less of an agreement to the sentiment, than a genuine, plain and hostile answer to the rhetorical question. The implication only cut Antinous’ grin wider across his face.
“Indeed,” purred the man, unrelenting stare daring Telemachus to back down first. Heart pounding, the prince stared right back, jaw and fists clenched. Fingers tightened on the flesh of his shoulder. He stood firm for a while, but the waves began to stir within once more.
Telemachus turned, ignoring the bereft, defeated feeling. What importance was winning Antinous’ endless games of pointless posturing when there was such a terrible storm threatening to break on the horizon? No matter how, diverting it at least seemed partially within his power this time… As long as he was backed up by the beast at his back.