Chapter Text
Ithaca.
It is the name of the beautiful place where Telemachus grew up.
Every day felt like a dream—from waking up to the sun shining down on him while the birds sang from outside, to the trees swaying with the gentle afternoon breeze while he ran across halls laughing as servant after servant chased after him; and in the dusk, when the fireflies would light up the surroundings and paved a path home whenever he ventured too far from the palace, worrying about the knowledge of the inevitable lecture that his mother would give him after taking too long to go back.
Back then, he always wondered what it would be like to embark on an adventure—fighting monsters, braving relentless storms, overcoming every obstacle in his path. Just like his father did. He, too, wanted to be legendary.
Still, despite the unexciting happenings, it is within his kingdom that Telemachus felt most at ease. Comfort and the bone-deep feeling of Home present at every moment. Even without the presence of his father, he was never deprived of these essential things: Freedom and Happiness.
He did not know what he had until he lost it. After all, nothing lasts forever.
Oh, how he wished he could rewind time. To once again experience those things and not just from imagination. Because when was the last time he felt at home in his own abode?
Telemachus had long forgotten.
Ithaca. Oh, Ithaca.
The peaceful Palace that Telemachus had roamed and loved so dearly was now infested with a horde of monsters in the shape of a hundred and eight men; each of which claimed to be suitors of the Queen of Ithaca, his own mother. They believe that his father was as good as dead, given the fact that he had not returned home when more than a decade had already gone by.
And yet, Telemachus and his mother knew better. Odysseus, his father, was still alive. It was a sacred belief and an unquestionable tenet within the household that his father would return someday. And it was not hard to believe in that sort of conviction when his mother never wavered from the faith that she put in her husband.
At first, the suitors only stirred feelings of curiosity and disgust in Telemachus. Why would they ever want to pursue his mother when it was evident that she had no intention to stray from her marriage bed? Their acts of persuading, lathering the Queen with jewelries and treasures as well as all their efforts to make Penelope fall in love with one of them were nothing but pointless.
'Are they truly so greedy for the throne? Greedy enough to pursue my mother, knowing full well that the only man in her heart is my father and that she's still waiting for his return? Did they really think they could ever replace him?'
They even resorted in trying to earn his favor. But no. Penelope stood steadfast, still waiting for the time when her husband would come home and reunite with them.
Not long after, they revealed their true colors and dropped the facade of pretending to like the Prince.
Indeed, the suitors of his mother were annoying, but their antics could still be dealt with...
That was, until Antinous came into the picture.
There was a sudden change of the atmosphere among the men. They became more greedy and desperate. They no longer even treat Telemachus in respect and went far by even bullying him. And at the center of it all stood Antinous, son of Eupeithes—the one holding the leashes of one hundred and seven men.
The palace, once a sanctuary, had become a cesspool. The suitors acted as if they were lords of the estate, leaving filth in their wake, their presence tainting the halls Telemachus once called home.
It could be tolerated if they would leave after a few days. But no, three years had already passed, and they did not leave and Telemachus endured all the mockery and abuse they did to him. Three years of enduring their torment. Three years of swallowing his pride. Three years of suffering—so long as they did not touch his mother, that was all that mattered.
One morning, Telemachus went out with Argos following him behind as they strolled around the palace and walked towards the garden. It was a rare moment of peace. Until he heard the raucous laughter of the suitors. There he saw Antinous resting on a wall and his crew, laughing along to some jokes that Telemachus knew were beyond the norm. Their so-called "jokes" were always vulgar, always crude. He could never understand them—never wanted to.
"HAHAAHAHAHA. So you shoved it in without preparing her?" One of Antinous' men said.
"Hell yeah I did! That bitch even loved it when I tied her hands." Another man cockily answered and the others in unison cackled and laughed.
For the man that he was, Antinous noticed Telemachus looking their way with disdain evident in his eyes.
Telemachus stiffened as Antinous' gaze locked onto him.
A slow smirk stretched across his lips. "Well, well. Who do we have here?" He pushed off the wall, sauntering toward Telemachus.
"Little wolf, to what do we owe the honor of your presence?"
"Am I not allowed to stroll around in my own garden?" Telemachus replied irritably, his fists clenching as all attention shifted onto him. Antinous raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"But of course.." Then his sharp eyes found Telemachus once more, a glint of calculation flickering within them. It was clear he was scheming something again.
"I thought you were looking for me." Antinous murmured, lowering his voice, "Did you wanna play with me again? Was last time not enough for you?" The men in the background snickered, their eyes filled with glee seeing Telemachus grit his teeth, his eyes burning with rage. But he swallowed his words, bottling up what he truly wanted to say.
Turning his back, he spoke coldly, "I'm afraid I don't have the time to play with you. Why not entertain yourselves instead? Or do you lack the wit to amuse even each other?" Telemachus sneered at them as he walked away.
Then a large hand took hold of his arm, yanking him forward and what greeted him was a broad chest before looking at the man with contempt.
"Boy," Antinous began, his voice deep and menacing. As Telemachus looked at him, he could clearly see the scar running down from his left eye (this is in Telemachus' pov), leaving it marked with a yellow hue, while another scar marred the right side of his mouth.
"When's your tramp of a mother gonna choose a new husband?" Hearing those words came out from Antinous, Telemachus' mind turned red with fury, his body trembling with anger.
"Why don't you open her room so we can have fun with her?" Antinous taunted, casting a glance at his men, who grinned maniacally.
"Don't you dare call my mother a tramp!" Telemachus yelled out, only seeing red, his chest heaving from anger as he reached for his sword, drawing it from its sheath.
But Antinous was quick to stop him, grabbing his wrist before he could fully unsheathe it. Argos, growling fiercely, began aggressively barking at the other man, his teeth bared as if ready to strike at any moment. The dog's protective stance only added to the tension between the two men. In just one sharp glare from Antinous, Argos whimpered, retreating to hide behind Telemachus' leg. The dog licked his leg in means of comforting the young man.
"OoOoHhh~" The men watched the scene before them with twisted amusement.
Antinous smirked, looming over the little wolf who was now grasping his tunic.
"I just did." Antinous leaned forward, their faces only inches apart.
"What you gonna do about it champ?" Antinous uttered in a deep voice.
Telemachus knew he could not defeat the man in front of him. Not only was he smaller than him, he also had the respect of the hundreds of men staying in his palace that he never had, even though he was the prince, the rightful heir to the throne. What's worse is that he doesn't know how much longer he can stall for his mother, knowing these hungry men have been waiting for years to claim the throne as well as her.....
'Can I do whatever it takes to keep my mom safe?'
Then one thought came to Telemachus.
'If this is the only way to stop them from hurting my mom, then...I'll replace her in her stead.'
Antinous raced his brow and tilted his head. He is curious as to why the little wolf was now silent. But in a blink of an eye, the arm clenching his tunic suddenly slid graciously on his chest, then ....slowly, ever so slowly slid down just below his abdomen. Antinous held his breath. His gaze followed the small hand as it glided up his chest and was now gently kneading his arm, teasing him.
Telemachus leaned forward, his voice a low whisper, "You know, there are other ways of persuasion~..." His body weight shifted, pressing against Antinous as he continued, "There are other modes of control~."
Telemachus tilted his head, resting his face on Antinous' shoulder, and gently circled a finger over his chest.
For once, Antinous' eyes widened in amusement, a slow tide of hunger building in the depths of his gaze. Telemachus grinned, noticing the shift in Antinous' reaction. But before he could savor the moment, large hands gripped the sides of his waist, making the prince yelp in surprise. As Antinous' thumbs moved in slow, deliberate circles, Telemachus couldn't help but feel a flush of heat rushing to his cheeks, unable to ignore the warmth of those calloused hands.
Now it was Antinous' turn to lean forward. Telemachus didn't dare move; this was a battle of pride, a silent challenge to see who would back down first. Antinous' lips brushed against the prince's ear.
"You think I'd be captivated by your moves just because you look like your mother, little wolf?" Without looking at the man, Telemachus knew he was smirking. Before pulling away, Antinous squeezed Telemachus' waist, earning a soft moan from the prince. Telemachus shot him a glare, but Antinous couldn't help thinking the flushed redness on his cheeks only made him look adorable. 'How cute.'
"You still have a long way before you can faze me, kid." Antinous chuckled before waving his hand, signaling his men to leave. They nodded in reply and began to exit the scene.
"This isn't interesting anymore. I'll be taking my leave," Antinous muttered before giving Telemachus one last look and walked away.
When only Telemachus was left in the scene, he let out a sigh of relief and hugged Argos, who was now wagging his tail.
"We're fine now, Argos. We're fine... for now," Telemachus comforted his dog, his eyes gleaming with determination. He knew there was no turning back now that he had taken the step. He could only hope this tactic of his would divert the men's attention away from his mother.
"Please..." Telemachus whispered to the air, burying his face in Argos' fur.
- - - - - - -
Antinous closed the door to his room. He was exhausted from hearing the men talk endlessly about breeding women and men as he played along with their crude chatter. A heavy weight rested on his mind, perhaps from the wine he'd consumed.
As he replayed the events of the day, he chuckled, remembering how the little wolf had tried to seduce him, feeling the warmth of his hands tracing his body.
But then, something twitched within him, and Antinous paused, glancing down.
"Fuck," he muttered, covering his face as he cackled. No wonder he felt so heavy.
"Not bad, little wolf. Not bad at all," Antinous said, heading toward his king-sized bed.