Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sunlight slanted through green tree leaves. The trees along this path were too orderly, laden with fruit that Odysseus daren’t touch (especially after the whole lotus fruit fiasco). This was no wild orchard, that much he could tell. Perhaps the remnants of a village’s orchard, long overgrown and returned to the wild? But he got the distinct feeling this place was still being maintained. There were water jars here and there, baskets laying in the shade as if they had just been abandoned. Every once in a while he whipped around and caught a glimpse of people, maidens with flowers in their hair, running off into the trees with suppressed giggles. Hermes’ laugh had been creepy enough, but after being reassured that the god was on his side, he had gotten used to it. This laughter? Definitely creepy.

Eurylochus had told him danger laid in this place, and he was beginning to understand what kind of danger that was. It was the kind of danger that one doesn’t know is dangerous until they are too deep to escape. The kind of danger that looks tantalizing and perfect, but holds something darker down the road.
He brushed aside some overhanging branches and found the path getting more like an actual footpath, lined with small stones, and less like the forest deer path overgrown with bushes that he had been wading through before. He looked down at the plant clutched in his hand. “Holy moly”, Hermes had called it. Now seemed like a good time to eat it as any. He took a couple bites tentatively. It tasted alright, not amazing, certainly not addictive like lotus, but not bad. He waited a few moments. He didn’t feel any different, no divine strength or wisdom coursing through his veins. Man, he really hoped this wasn’t one giant prank by Hermes. . .

He could see a large house in the distance and slowly made his way up the winding path. A few young women –nymphs, he finally realized– were busy around the house, hauling water, tending flower gardens, picking fruit, cleaning clothes, laughing and talking. A few waved to him cheerfully, which confused him a little. But the thing that really caught his attention were the animals. A giant tawny lion napped in the sunny grass, a few gazelle grazed near a well, and large birds with extravagant and colorful feathers, the likes of which Odysseus had never beheld in his life, preened on the marble steps of the house. But Eurylochus had said the witch had turned his men into pigs. So he had to look for pigs.
He was pretty sure he could see a livestock pen around back; maybe if he snuck back there he could free them, though they would still be pigs, and-

“Hello~”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice before he even looked at her. She leaned against the doorway, her skirts fluttering and drifting about her legs in a faint breeze.

“Aren’t you going to come in, dear? It's rather hot today, can I get you a drink?”

His plan briefly left his mind as he looked at her. He could definitely see how she had tempted his men to their doom.

“I can get my own water, thanks. . .”

“No really! I insist. . .”

He could practically feel the magic hanging thick in the air around them. He desperately hoped that the moly would be enough to protect him. But he couldn’t let the woman know he was immune to her spells just yet-

“Well I suppose I wouldn't mind a drink. . .just for a moment, of course.”

“Of course~”

She ushered him in, keeping a close eye on him as he paused to admire the large pillars in the shady portico. He carefully avoided looking at any of the nymphs, because any time he glanced at one in passing, he could practically feel Circe's glare piercing his soul.

“You. . . have a nice house. . .”

He mumbled awkwardly.

“Yes! Isn't it nice. . .?”

“I sent some scouts, maybe ten men, give or take? Have you seen them by any chance?” he mentioned casually.

“You misplaced that many men? Hope you find them.”

They entered a large hall with long richly dyed curtains blocking most of the afternoon light. There was a low table, filled with all kinds of food and drinks, a feast worthy of the gods, Odyseuss thought. He tensed slightly as her hand traced along his shoulder and pulled him down onto a chair, setting some food and drink before him and stepping back. Waiting.

“One of them returned, told me that they had come here. . .did you, by any chance, do something to them?”

He took a deep breath, sending one last prayer to Hermes and hoping the moly was working, and took a few bites. It tasted fine.

“All I did was show them what they truly are~” she purred, eyes trained on him in anticipation.

“You turned them into pigs,” he deadpanned and slowly looked up at her.

He glanced down at his body–still human! He stood up, taking a cocky sip of the wine she had given him.

“Did I. . .?” her voice faltered as he didn’t change form. “Here, eat some more, you must be really hungry. . .”

She laughed nervously and refilled his cup. He drained it again and set it down.

“Cut the crap, witch. Let my men go.”

“Rude. . . then again you’re just a man, aren’t you?” it sounded like an insult when she said it. “How do you resist my spells, Odysseus?”

“How do you know my name. . .?”

“Most of your men called you ‘captain’, but not all~”

“So you admit they came here and you did something to them! And don't get excited, your magic won’t work on me. I ate a plant that takes away any power you had over me.”

“Moly? How did you get that?! Mortals can't eat moly– did Hermes give it to you?”

He rolled his eyes, “Fine, yes, Hermes gave me the plant–does he give random plants to everyone? – BUT BACK TO THE SUBJECT! Your spells don’t work on me!”

She raised an eyebrow and Odysseus quickly brushed two wolf ears that had briefly appeared on his head.

“DON’T WORK ON ME!”

“Look, my dear, foolish, little man,” she gestured to the house around them. “This is my domain. I have a duty to all of these nymphs. Do you know what men do to nymphs? How they behave? Utterly disgusting. I’m responsible for protecting these girls, and if I turn a few intruders into beasts, what of it? They're just stupid men–”

“And I have a duty to get those men home! No matter how stupid they are.”

He reached for the hilt of his sword and she backed away a few steps.

“Let my men go! Um. . .”

“Circe,” she supplied begrudgingly.

“Circe! And I swear on my life, I will personally ensure that none of my men so much as look at your nymphs. We will be on our way as soon as possible.” He took his hand off his sword hilt warily.

“What is the promise of a weak-willed man? I don’t care what you swear on if you don’t keep your word. But. . .perhaps. . .we can come to an arrangement. . .”

She undid her hair and let it flow down her back, stepping closer, magic hanging thick in the air.

“I’m not sure I follow–”

She pressed herself against him in a passionate kiss. For half a second he considered it, appreciating the affection after so long. It must have been her magic working, because a moment later he came to his senses and shoved her away, panting hard, adrenaline working its way through his body.

“I’M MARRIED!” he practically yelled, though his voice sounded hoarse and scared.

“So? I’m sure she won’t mind. Don’t you want to save your men? Maybe if you do what I say, I’ll consider it~”

He slumped onto a low couch and ran his hand through his shaggy curls. She plopped down into his lap but he immediately removed her and pushed her to sit beside him. She looked baffled; Odysseus didn’t care.

“I’m married. . .and I have a wife. . .and she’s beautiful, and I love her, and I haven’t seen her in so long, and we have a son named Telemachus and he must be like ten or twelve years old by now, and I haven’t seen him since he was this big and-”

Odysseus was practically bawling now and making vague hand gestures to indicate the size of his infant son. Circe stared at him in confusion.

“I just wanna go home! And all the gods hate me, and everything goes wrong, and all my friends are dead, and why does this have to happen to me. . .”

He pulled himself off the couch and knelt at her feet, not lifting his head to see her startled and bemused expression.

“Please. . .just let my men go. I’m begging you.”

She tilted his head up and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek, one he didn’t dare pull away from, (though he did wipe his sleeve over the spot in slight disgust after she pulled away). She chuckled and stood back up, tying her hair again.

“You’re the most loyal man I’ve met in a while, Odysseus. . .Maybe I can do something about this pig problem you’re having~”

He grinned hopefully and stood up, already hearing confused shouting and talking outside from the pigpen.

“And maybe we can discuss how to get you home to that wife of yours, mm?”

“. . .Thank you, Circe.”

“No problem, dear~ But if you or your men so much as lay a finger on my nymphs, I will-”

Odysseus bowed politely with a smirk, “I’ll make sure they stay away. You have my word.”

Circe smiled slightly, genuinely. This man was surprisingly. . .tolerable.

— — — — —

Circe looked out her window at the luscious gardens and forests, her nymphs playing and laughing outside, and the sparkling sea beyond the island’s shores, expanding to the horizon. Odysseus and his men had finally left with her careful instructions about how to go to the Underworld a few weeks ago, and she had to admit that the island was just a little lonely without them. Though she was definitely ready for some peace and quiet without so many men staying in her palace. A slight breeze rustled through the room and the scent of saltwater and rain suddenly became. . .overpoweringly present, in a way that it definitely hadn't been before. She turned with a vaguely annoyed look; Olympians didn’t visit often, and she was okay with that.

“Good morning sorceress. . .” he brushed his dark blue curls away from his face nonchalantly.

“Hi,” she glared at him the entire time, just to remind him that she still didn’t particularly like him.

He didn’t seem to notice, or care, especially now that he was trying to get a stubborn piece of seaweed that was tangled around the spikes on his jagged crown.

“I’d heard that you had guests here recently. . .” he mentioned off-handedly, flicking the seaweed aside.

Perhaps a mortal would have shaken in fear at the way his voice resembled waves crashing onto the shore and splintering boat timbers, but Circe was too irritated by his audacity to care.
“That’s none of your business, earth-shaker.”

“I’m a god. . .so it kind of is. So who were these guests of yours? I’m just curious. . .I thought you liked turning men into beasts, not feeding them and giving them a place to sleep! . . .and directions to my brother’s domain?” his voice grew deep as the seafloor, and angry as a winter storm.

“Wow, Ody wasn’t wrong when he told me the god of tides was mad at him. I’ll admit that it isn’t my usual habit. But perhaps my guest changed my mind on a few things. . .”

“It would be better if you had killed him. That little runt Odysseus? Yeah, he pisses me off. And now you’re pissing me off! You could have made my life so much easier if you had just killed him, but noooo-”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?! I’m a god, you don’t get to tell me to shut up-”

“Ugh men. . .Did you come here to throw a tantrum, or do you actually have something to say? Because I’m tired of hearing you talk badly about the one man I’ve met that I could maybe possibly ever consider a friend.”

Poseidon blinked and was too surprised to speak for a few moments. After an awkward pause he quietly skipped to the point.

“Um. . .yes. I need a potion to turn someone into an animal, I think you would be good with those, seeing as how you usually-”

She rolled her eyes and walked over to a few shelves, sorting through some vials and jars, “Which animal?”

“Seriously? I don't know, I don’t really care-”

“Don’t get sassy with me. How did you not think this through yet? I can do pigs, lions, snakes, some birds, wolves-”

“That’s it!” he exclaimed and rushed over, only to have Circe push him away from the potions immediately.

Poseidon, paying no mind to her, grinned, flashing his shark-like teeth, “A wolf! It’s perfect! Oh, almost too perfect, yes, cruel irony, it’s wonderful isn’t it. . .”

“What are you talking about-”

“Revenge plot I have going on, don’t worry about it.”

“Rightttt. . .here you go. Get off my island.”

He took the bottle she handed him with a smile and vanished with a dramatic swish of his watery cloak. Circe sighed and picked a tiny crab off of her face. Did he have to bring half the sea with him every time? She vaguely wondered why he had needed such a particular potion, and why he couldn’t just turn whoever-the-subject-of-his-wrath-was into a beast himself. But she wasn’t going to let a surprise visit from an annoying sea god ruin what was shaping up to be a lovely day on Aeaea. She put away her potions and magic work for the day and decided to pay no further heed to the odd events of the morning, and enjoy the sunlight and wildflowers outside.

Chapter Text

After weeks of cloudy weather and rain on Ithaca, the sun had finally come out again. Telemachus ran down the rocky forest path to the beach, quickly unlacing his sandals (and nearly tripping over himself in the process) and wading into the cool clear waters. He had finally managed to slip away from the palace and his studies for a while. It was a beautiful spring day, and if his tutors couldn’t see that, then they could suck it!

Pebbles and seaweed stuck between his toes and tiny fish tickled at his feet. He laughed and splashed in the water for a few hours, pretending to be a shark and trying to catch minnows in the shallows. He eventually grew bored and contented himself by looking for interesting rocks and shells along the shore instead.

The late morning sunshine beat down on his tanned olive skin and his curly dark hair, and he soon lost track of time as he played on the seashore. He was good at making up games to play by himself since he didn’t get to play with other kids his age much. Being the prince seemed to isolate him from other kids and he often found himself wondering if his life would have been easier if he had been born into a peasant family. If his dad hadn’t had to leave for war.

He was absently following the path of a hermit crab that was scuttling across the sand, when he knocked into someone. He slowly looked up at the large man with a dark cloak wrapped about him loosely and dark black hair curling over his shoulders. The guy seemed huge to the twelve year-old boy, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out:

“You’re massive.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound so. . .”

The man rolled his eyes with a disbelieving huff and pushed past the prince. Telemachus felt a little bad and trotted after the man.

“Hey, I didn't mean to say that out loud, I'm sorry!”

“Go away, kid,” the man kept walking down the beach.

“Why?” Telemachus, his interest in the crab long gone, ran to catch up, leaving a smaller set of footprints in the sand next to the man’s. The man walked fast.

“Because I'm busy,” they reached the small dock in the bay and the man walked out to the edge of the pier, past a couple docked fishing boats.

“Busy doing what?” Telemachus narrowly dodged a large oar held by a fisherman and skirted around some piles of nets and baskets as he followed the man.

“Oh my gods- I'm busy waiting for someone,” the man saw that the boy wasn’t intending to drop the subject so he sat down and started untangling a net.

“Who?” Telemachus sat down on the edge of the dock, swinging his legs.

The man briefly considered shoving the annoying kid into the water.

“My archnemesis.” He answered.

“What’s an arch-nem-es-is?” He looked over at the man who was cutting knots out of the net with a strange looking knife.

“Someone I really don't like,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You don’t look like you like anyone,” Telemachus looked back at his feet dangling in the turquoise water.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” The man snapped.

“Uh, nothing! So who’s your archnemesis?” he mumbled.

“He’s. . .a king. Who hurt my son,”

His voice was thin and tense and Telemachus felt odd, like he was listening to the rumble of thunder and rain for a moment.

“And he had the nerve to be all cocky about it too!” he continued. “I swear I'm gonna gut him like a fish. . .”

He punctuated the last remark with a snap of his knife through a tangled section of rope.

Telemachus winced and replied nervously, “That sounds a little extreme, but I guess you’re a good father. . ." The man just gave him a look and Telemachus wisely changed the subject. “I’m waiting for someone too. . .”

The man looked over at him briefly before returning to his work, “Oh yeah?”

“My father. He left me and my mom just after I was born.”

The man chuckled, “Yeah, my dad sucked too.”

“No! My dad is a good guy! I meant my dad left for war right after I was born. . . so I never got to meet him. My mom tells me stories about him though. . .” Telemachus stared out at the horizon longingly.

“Sometimes I come here just to watch the boats. . .think about all the places they could take me, the adventures I could go on. . . Sometimes I think maybe my father will be on one, the one just coming in from the sea–! But. . .he never is. Sorry, that was stupid, wasn’t it. . .”

The man shrugged and set the knife down, “I’ve heard stupider things. Who’s your father?”

“Odysseus.”

The man’s face–which had started to lean towards sympathy–now darkened like an ocean storm, “You don’t say. . .?”

“Yeah, I’m the prince of Ithaca, Prince Telemachus. . .” he said awkwardly.

Silence passed between them for a few minutes as the man took to sharpening a fishing spear with a practiced hand. He occasionally stopped to brush his dark black (which seemed almost blue now?) hair out of his face. He finally paused his work to tie it back with a piece of cord that had been wrapped around his wrist.

The sun was now high overhead and the man set his work aside entirely, grabbing a water jug and taking a deep swig, then handing the jug to Telemachus. Telemachus drank gratefully. It was getting hot and he was tired of watching the grumpy man fix fishing gear in awkward silence. . .but he also didn’t want to go home to his disappointed mother and angry tutors just yet.

He handed the water back to the man and watched as the man pulled out a small lunch wrapped in a cloth, seemingly from nowhere. The man spread the cloth out and Telemachus looked at the bread, cheese, olives, and salted fish with hunger–well, not the fish. He didn't really like that kind of fish to be honest, it was always too salty for his taste. It was about the time of day when Telemachus would be eating lunch, and a lot of the men on the dock had gone to sit under the trees on the shore to have a short meal, leaving just Telemachus and the man on the end of the dock.

“Go ahead, I have extra.” the man grumbled.

Telemachus quietly took a few olives and chewed on them absently.

‘“You should have some of the fish. I hear it’s good.” the man encouraged, watching the boy out of the corner of his eyes.

“Oh. . .no thanks.” Telemachus put some of the cheese on the bread and ate it, oblivious to the man’s frustrated look.

“You sure? I’m gonna be disappointed if ya don’t eat it. It’ll make you grow big and strong. . . and just like your dad. . .?” he smirked slightly, knowing he had hit one of Telemachus’s weak spots.

Telemachus scowled and begrudgingly took one of the fish and chewed a few bites, trying to mask his disgust with a fake smile and an enthusiastic nod.

“Yep! Really good fish!” He waited for the man to glance away before he chucked the rest of the fish into the water and pretended he had eaten the whole thing.

He still hated fish, and that one had tasted even more off than usual. . .the man looked back over at him with an expectant smirk.

“Feeling alright, kid?” he grinned with his weirdly sharp teeth.

“Um. . .yeah. Why?”

“Uh. . .no reason. . .” he chuckled nervously and put the food away.

“Aren’t you gonna eat anything?” Telemachus asked in a worried tone.

“Don’t like fish?”

Telemachus could understand that, but he was still confused, “Then. . .why did you pack it? And aren’t you a fisherman? Also, you have got some awful sharp teeth there. . .”

Telemachus tilted his head and looked closer. Was the man’s hair really blue? Or was it just the sun playing tricks on his eyes? Were his ears pointed? and his teeth razor-sharp?

“You look kinda funny, mister. . .” he mumbled cautiously.

“I look perfectly normal! Stupid boy.” he huffed.

“I’ve never seen teeth like that. But my mom’s ears are a little pointed like yours! She said it’s because she is descended from a water nymph. . .” he mused softly, then thought for a few seconds longer, “Are you a water nymph?” he grinned excitedly at the idea.

“WATER NYMPH?! I am not a ‘water nymph’!” he protested angrily.

Telemachus flinched at the angry tone but still hesitantly mentioned the seaweed he could now see tangled in the man's hair.

The man scowled. “See? This is why I hate kids, they can see too much for their own good. . .”

“What does that even mean-?!” Telemachus was growing more and more confused by the second. Who was this guy???

The man, to Telemachus’s great surprise, didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes and slipped right off the dock and into the water.

“Hey! Where are you going? Why did you-”

“Goodbye. And have fun, you pathetic whelp of Odysseus. . .” he hissed as he sank into the blue waters.

“Wait! What's a whelp? Who are you- What?!” he tried to call out to him, but the man had sunk and vanished into the seafoam, leaving a baffled prince of Ithaca.

Telemachus looked around to the other sailors eating and talking on the shore. Had no one else seen that? Was he going crazy? Even the man’s net, knife, and fishing spear had disappeared. He stumbled off the dock and went closer to some of the men, asking them if they had seen the man who had been on the dock. Some just looked confused and said there hadn’t been a man there, others laughed and said that the sun must be getting to him.

Maybe they were right, yeah! That must be it! But how could he have hallucinated his entire conversation with a person?! He had eaten the man’s food, hadn’t he? . . .Oh gods, he had eaten his food. Was it bad to eat a strange being’s food? He felt tired, hot and. . .well just plain weird, and now he was freaking out. Had that fish been spoiled? Could eating bad fish make you want to scratch at your hair and yell at the sky?! (See, this is why he didn’t like fish in the first place-)

He stumbled back down the beach to get away from the confused and concerned looks of the fishermen and collapsed against a large rock to catch his breath. He then stumbled to the surf and splashed water on his face, panting heavily.

Why was it so hard to breathe?!

Why was it so hard to think?!

He clawed his hands through his shaggy curls. His head hurt terribly, and his body ached, and he didn’t know why.

He finally managed to stagger up the forest path a little ways, but he finally couldn’t take it anymore and sank to the ground, curling up under a large tree, hidden from the path. He lay there, breathing hard, staring up at the faint sunlight filtering through the green leafy trees. He curled up tightly and sobbed, praying to whatever gods were up there to make the pain and strange feeling in his body go away.

The pain stopped after a while, reduced to a dull ache in his head, and an overwhelming exhaustion fell over him. Some god must have heard his prayers and granted him some brief rest.

— — — — —

Everything was dark.

Everything was dark and Telemachus was confused for a few moments.

He felt around him and brushed his hands against leaves and wood and dirt and rocks. He had somehow fallen asleep, curled up under a tree, in the middle of the woods. He looked around, trying to get his bearings once more. He had never felt darkness quite like this before; he had always been safe in his bed in the palace, fast asleep beneath his warm blankets, by this time of the night. He was a little afraid–but strangely– a little excited as well, adrenaline coursing slowly through his tired limbs. He crawled out from the prickly undergrowth slowly, brushing leaves from his tunic. His eyes were finally beginning to adjust and his memories were slowly trickling back into his sleep-dulled mind. Had he really been missing all afternoon and evening? His mother would kill him, and his tutor would be very irritated. He decided that he had better get home as fast as his legs could carry him.

He started up the rocky path again slowly, flinching at every bird call and jackal howl. It was a little chilly, and his stomach growled from the dinner he had missed.

After only a few steps, he felt something furry brush against his leg. He jumped in surprise and whipped around quickly, but didn’t see a thing. He tried to calm his breathing. It was probably just a bush or a plant that had brushed against him! Yeah! That's all…His breath came faster, now in panicky gasps, as he walked faster up the path. The furry thing touched his leg again. He practically sobbed in terror and tripped over a rock. He scrambled backwards on the ground from whatever invisible beast was following him, but he once more saw nothing. He felt the furry thing against his thighs again and froze, stopping to think for a few moments. He slowly stood back up and composed himself, then pulled the folds of his chiton aside with trembling hands.

A tail.

There was an actual tail.

Attached to him?!

He slowly dropped his chiton hem back down and blinked in disbelief. How did this happen? He felt the tail wag slightly beneath his clothes, the fuzzy end of it hanging just past the hem of his tunic. He couldn’t understand what was going on. He took a few steps up the path again. He still needed to go home. His mom could fix this, right? She had to! She could fix this just like all the scraped knees and bloody noses he’d gotten when he was little. Walking felt weird with his new furry appendage swishing against his legs with every step, but he was beginning to get used to it. He heard a small mouse in the bushes, his ears snapping over in the direction the sound had come from. Wait what…. His ears could move like that now?!

He put his hand up and felt around his head carefully. He was hardly surprised at his point–more exasperated than anything else. Two fuzzy wolf ears sat atop his head, his hair falling around them as if they had always been there. Ears to go with his new tail! Of course. The gods must hate him. Or this was all a very weird dream. . .

His newly-discovered ears seemed to be pretty sensitive to sound. They swiveled to where he saw a small rabbit nibbling on grass in the moonlight. He felt an odd urge in his gut; an urge to pounce, to hunt, to kill. Well that was new. He was hungry. . . but no. He quickly shook that thought away and kept walking.

The rabbit ran away into the woods and Telemachus finally neared the shadowy palace grounds. He surveyed the quiet area. No-one would be awake at this hour, he was sure, but he still didn’t want to get caught sneaking in. He tumbled through some bushes and managed to climb into his room through the window. His dog lay on a rug in the middle of his room and looked up at him as he fell through the window, sticks and leaves in his hair. The dog lay its head back down as if a messy prince with wolf ears and a tail wasn’t the strangest thing it had ever seen.

“Good boy, Argos. . .” he mumbled and stopped to scratch the hound behind the ears before moving to the other side of his room where his desk was.

He swept his papers and schoolwork to the side of the desk and looked into the hazy mirror on the wall, checking out his new ears and tail. He sighed and brushed his hair back with his hand, picking twigs and leafy debris from his tunic. He took off his sandals, changed his chiton, washed the dirt and dust from his hands and feet, and curled up in bed, hoping that everything would be normal when he woke in the morning. Argos jumped up on the bed and Telemachus was too tired to push him off, even when the dog started hogging the blankets.

He lay there, tangled in the blankets, with his dog half-laying on him, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Telemachus dreamed of thunderstorms. Lightning pierced the darkness; electricity crackled around him in the air. He felt himself falling, sinking; sinking into the deep dark sea.

He woke up with a crash, and found that he had fallen out of bed. Blood pumped through his veins as he tried to catch his breath. He had just fallen off the bed, that was all. Argos trotted over to the fallen prince, still tangled in his blankets, and licked at his face until Telemachus pushed him away with an indignant huff and pulled himself up. What a strange dream that had been, he mused. Morning sunshine poured through his window and he yawned, brushing his hair back from his face. His hand froze as it touched the tips of his ears. So it wasn’t just a dream after all.

A sudden knock at his door made him jump and he nearly tripped over the blankets still tangled around his legs.

“Yes?!” he asked, still trying to extricate himself from his tangled bedding.

“Sorry if I startled you, your highness, your mother sent me to check if you were awake yet.”

He recognized the quiet voice as one of his mother’s servants. He sighed in relief and answered.

“Yes, I'm awake now. . .”

He tried to kick the tangled blanket off of his foot and inadvertently yanked his other leg down, falling on his butt with a wince. His ears swiveled and his eyes widened as he heard the door latch turn slightly.

“DON’T COME IN!” he squealed, shoving his tail between his legs and throwing the blanket over himself desperately.

“Are you okay, your highness?” she said with a worried tone and didn't open the door further.

“Y-yes. . .I just. . .don't have any clothes on. . .?” he mentally cursed himself. What was he doing?

“Um. . .alright then, sir. . .? Your mother wants to talk to you, so when you –ahem– have some clothes on; she’s in the dining hall, waiting for you.”

He heard her footsteps receding and he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Argos. The dog was wagging its tail slowly and Telemachus stuck his tongue out at the dog petulantly before realising his own tail was wagging as well. This was gonna be more difficult to hide than he had thought. . .

— — — — —

Telemachus sat down at the long wooden table quietly. He could feel his tail trying to wag under his tunic but he quickly tucked it under his leg and tried to look normal and not panicky. He glanced up from the plate that had been placed before him as his mother spoke.

“Why are you wearing a hat, dear? I hardly ever see you wear hats,” Penelope mused while sipping a cup of wine.

Telemachus felt heat rushing to his face and he could practically feel his mother’s eyes piercing past his poorly thought through excuses.

“I'm just trying something new I guess. . .? And. . .dad used to have a pileus like this, didn’t he?”

His remark worked as intended. Penelope seemed instantly distracted from her initial investigation by the mention of Odyseuss and nodded vaguely.

“Yes. . .he did. It looks good on you,” she said softly and went back to eating.

Telemachus quietly accepted food from a nearby serving tray and ate voraciously. He was surprised by how hungry he was today and by how good the meat on his plate was currently looking. Usually he didn’t care for goat, lamb, pork, beef, or chicken (he detested fish most of all), but today he ate quite a bit of the meat offered to him, along with some bread, fruit, and a small cup of watered-down wine. If Penelope noticed her son's sudden interest in all things ‘meat’, she didn’t mention it. He drank some of his wine (he didn't care for it but his mom liked it and he felt like it made him seem more ‘grown up’–the sole reason he drank it at all) and ate a little bread, trying to stay quiet and let his mom forget he was there. It didn’t work.

“Tele, why are you wearing that chiton? It’s still too big on you, I was going to save it for this winter. . .”

“Um. . .I just really like the embroidery on it! And I think I've grown, no? It's not that big on me. . .” he stammered nervously.

She wasn’t buying that excuse for a second.

“Son, the hem's down past your knees and the fit is clearly too big for you. What's up with you today?”

He sighed and looked down.

“I’m fine, really, mom-”

“Telemachus, you’re a horrible liar and you know it.”

He nodded vaguely and reluctantly spoke.

“Fine. . .Can you excuse all the servants for a moment?”

Penelope nodded and quickly dismissed the servants to go take their breakfast so she could talk to her son privately.

“Talk.” she said quietly.

Quietly, but firmly, with no patience for lies.

“I. . .I. . .I think it’s better if I just show you!”

He slowly pulled his pileus off, letting his fuzzy ears poke up from his dark hair. He ignored his mom’s startled gasp and stood up, tugging up his chiton as well so she could see the end of his tail. He couldn’t look at her as he sat down once more.

“Look, I don’t know what happened, and I think I got cursed by a god, but I don't know why! Or what I did?! And-and I’m scared, momma, and-”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he barely noticed her quick footsteps walking over to his side. She lifted his face in her hands gently.

“Hey. It's gonna be okay, baby. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

She sat down next to him and pulled him close like she used to do when he was little. He curled up in the familiar embrace. If anyone else was around he would have felt extremely embarrassed–a twelve year old boy, still hiding his face in his mother’s skirts?–but since they were alone he gladly accepted the comfort of his mother’s arms.

“Is something bad gonna happen cuz I have them?” he whimpered, ears flicking back against his head.

“No, no, sweet boy, nothing’s bad is gonna happen to you, I promise. . .” she brushed her hand over his flattened ears, a slight glint of an idea beginning to flicker in her eyes.

She pulled two pins from her hair and tucked his ears back, pinning them down gently with the hair pieces.

“Does that hurt dear?” she asked, combing his curls back tenderly.

“N. . .no. . .doesn’t hurt. . .” he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Because, y'know when I pin them back like this, I can hardly see them. . .”

She tugged his pileus over his head and adjusted it carefully.

“See? You can barely tell you’re any different from any other boy.”

Telemachus smiled slightly through his tears.

“Really?”

“Yeah! You can keep the hat on today, use the ‘my dad had one’ excuse if anyone asks, and we’ll talk more tonight, okay? We’ll get this all figured out, my little puppy~”

He finally looked up, sniffling and wiping his face.

“They’re a little weird.” he admitted with a sad laugh.

“A little, yeah. . .” she agreed.

She smiled fondly and pulled off the hat. She touched his wolf ears gently, scratching behind them. His tail wagged happily.

“We’ll get used to it dear. We’ll be fine. I know it!” his mother said and kissed him on the cheek teasingly.

Telemachus nodded slowly and got up from her lap, taking the pileus from her hands and tugging it over his ears. He was surprised his mother was taking this all so well. She wasn’t even that angry about his disappearance yesterday, at least once she understood all that had happened to him.

After a brief silence Penelope spoke, “I’ll make your tunics a bit longer when I have the time; to hide the tail, and so you won’t have to wear big baggy ones.”

She laughed slightly and motioned to the way Telemachus’s chiton was hanging off his frame awkwardly.

“Now hurry up and eat! Just because you’re half-beast now, doesn’t mean I'm gonna let you run wild in the woods all day. You have lessons, and you’re not going to sneak away from them today, yeah?”

She raised an eyebrow expectantly. Telemachus knew that there was no arguing with his mother when she gave him that look, so he just nodded quickly and finished his food. He paused before leaving the room.

“Um, mom? . . .thanks. For everything. Love you.”

She smiled at the sudden kindness of her son and blushed a little, then pretended to frown.

“Alright, alright, off you go! Don’t be late!”

She waved him off and took another sip of her drink. Telemachus grinned, tail wagging, and obediently scurried off to his lessons, leaving his mother to think about their problem over a half-empty cup of wine.

— — — — —

Penelope hesitantly stepped closer and folded the intricately woven shawl, setting it on the steps of the small shrine to Athena. She hadn't brought a decent offering here in a while, but she had refused to let the altar to her husband's favourite goddess ever go without some small sacrifice. She sighed and sank down next to the shrine, looking up at the small carved statue of Athena and the old feathers hanging from one of Odysseus’ training swords from when he was young. When they were both young.

She had never met his mentor in person but he had told her much about Athena. She leaned against the cold stone, feeling rather lonely as a small breeze drifted around her, rustling her hair like how Odysseus had brushed her dark curls back from her face when they kissed. She felt tears brimming in her eyes and quickly wiped them away.

“He was such an idiot, y’know. Such a wonderful, wonderful idiot.” she whispered, not sure who she was talking to.

There was no reply of course, but Penelope couldn't stop herself.

“He sure is taking his time getting home. . .” she laughed sadly. “But he'd be so proud of his son…he’s growing up so fast.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I don't know what to do with him sometimes. . .I just. . .I need help. And whatever is going on with him, I need help with that. . .How does a kid just grow ears and a tail?”

She laughed in disbelief and brushed more tears away.

“Such a strange child; wants to be like Odysseus so much. . .we both know Ody wasn't all that others thought he was. He was reckless, immature, stupid, sweet, loyal, so gods-damn devoted, so. . . He was so much more than what others thought he was, I suppose.”

She pulled herself back up, leaning on the cool marble wall and sniffling the last of her tears away.

“Athena, if you're up there somewhere, make sure my husband gets home safely. I need him. His son needs him. And. . .help us to figure out what's going on with Telemachus. . .if you can, make him go back to normal, but if you can't. . .help us any way you can I suppose. Guide him like you did his father. We need you! I need you! And I need my husband back in my arms again. Please. . .”

Telemachus walked into the small courtyard, glancing over in surprise at Penelope. He hardly ever saw his mother here. She waved with a slight smile.

Telemachus had just sat through a very long and extremely boring lecture–which he was convinced was his tutor’s way of punishing him for skipping his lessons yesterday (no-one was that interested in Ithacan agriculture)–and had finally managed to convince his tutor that fresh air was critically important to him comprehending trade routes and political theory. He hadn’t been ‘lying’, the fresh air really did feel good, but he had perhaps neglected to mention why he actually needed a break. His tail insisted on wagging all the time, though he didn’t understand why, and he had taken to sitting on it or shoving it between his legs. His tutors thought he was just restless, but his tail was getting pretty sore from sitting on it for so long and he couldn’t bear to sit still any longer.

So here he was.

“Skipping lessons again, Tele?” his mother asked, walking over.

Telemachus liked the sound her skirts made, swishing in the breeze and around her legs, brushing over the stone floor in a soft whisper.

“No, just taking a quick break. Why do I have to know where barley is grown and how much wine from Pylos costs? I’m twelve, mom, can’t I do more sword-fighting or something?”

He grinned and spun around, pretending he was wielding a mighty weapon and defeating monsters. She smiled softly and grabbed his shoulder, pausing his imaginary monster slaying.

“Because you will be king someday.”

“But. . .I don’t know if I'm ready to be king yet. . .”

“Telemachus, you're not gonna be king right this instant, you silly boy!”

She laughed, a genuine laugh that he didn't hear much anymore, and it made him feel better somehow.

“But. . .when you eventually become king. . . You will make a wonderful ruler. I promise. ”

“But-”

“Leadership is a gift, Tele. Maybe not one that you want right now, but one that you will have to accept at some point. But you're smart. And kind. And thoughtful, and-”

She grinned teasingly and squeezed Telemachus to her side tightly. He giggled and weakly protested.

“Mom!”

“Nope. You're stuck, little wolf.”

He rolled his eyes and she eventually let him go with a brief kiss on top of his hat.

“Alright, back to your studies, yeah? And then you can play sword. Maybe I'll come join you.”
He nodded and ran off. Penelope smiled a bit more than before and glanced back at the shrine briefly; wondering.

Chapter Text

A week or so had passed, like a lazy cloud drifting through the Ithacan sky, and Penelope had finished the necessary adjustments to Telamachus’ tunics, making them fall just past his knees to hide his new tail. He was still learning how to hide it, but he was getting better at stopping it from wagging when needed (though when he was in a good mood, he often couldn’t help it much).

His mother had also recently finished weaving a cloak for Telemachus. It would keep him warm and dry during the spring showers that persisted into early summer, but really Telemachus just liked wearing the cloak. It was soft and cozy, woven with patterns of mythological beasts and fleets of boats, and it wrapped around his shoulders and hung over his tail in a way he liked. It had bright blue threads like the clear sky and crystal ocean waters, and gold threads that glittered in the light like his mother’s jewelry. He loved to trace his fingers over the designs, day-dreaming about far away adventures.

Telemachus was sitting at the breakfast table one day, wolfing down some roasted meat, bread, and figs, when his mother set down her cup and spoke.

“We’re going to visit your grandfather for a few days.” she announced, not looking up from her meal.

“Huh? But-”

“The old guy needs more company than just his orchard, Telemachus. And besides, your cousins and Aunt Ctimene will be there too! It’ll be fun; you can even get out of your lessons for a few days. A little break for us!”

She smiled hopefully, and he reluctantly smiled back. It’s not that he didn’t like being around his grandfather, it was just, well. . .the man wasn’t all there sometimes. He was getting old, and while Telemachus loved him–of course he did, Laertes was family–he still felt awkward around the man. His grandfather was obsessed with his orchards, and anytime Telemachus tried to help out with the gardening, it always felt like Laertes told him he was doing it ‘wrong’. Over the past few years, especially since his grandmother died, his grandfather had grown more distant. On bad days he thought Telemachus was a young Odysseus, and–he had heard–Laertes had once mistaken his daughter Ctimene for his deceased wife, Anticlea. Awkward, to say the least, and very, very confusing for the old man. But the man had a mischievous streak, and was a decent storyteller, so perhaps the short vacation wouldn’t be so bad after all. Anything was better than a tutor trying to teach him math and architecture!

— — — — —

Penelope was happily talking and drinking wine with her sister-in-law, Ctimene, under a vine covered pergola behind the house. Telemachus’s cousins, Kimon and Nysa, were both a bit older than him–twins–the two children of his aunt Ctimene and his father's right-hand-man, Eurylochus. Nysa was busy drawing water from a well and carrying it to their grandfather, who was tending to some flowering bushes down the hill. Kimon and Telemachus were perched on a large low hanging branch in a very old oak tree, watching the sun slowly go down behind the ocean.

Telemachus looked over at his cousin Kimon, who was currently watching Laertes as the old man tended the garden. Kimon’s skin glimmered in the dying light like the dull bronze of a sword, and his eyes were dark brown, unlike his mother. He must take after his father in that respect (not that Kimon or Telemachus knew much of either of their fathers). Kimon glanced over at Telemachus once he noticed the boy was looking in the same direction as he.

“What?” Kimon snapped.

“Nothing, you were just looking at grandpa and I didn’t know why. . .” He replied quietly, looking down at his lap awkwardly.

“I’m making sure the old man doesn’t trip and break something. Why does he like those plants so much anyways?”

Kimon tried to sound annoyed, but he let a little bit of worry seep into his tone.

Telemachus shrugged, “Maybe gardening is relaxing for him. I personally don’t have the patience for it, but he seems to enjoy-”

“The guy’s crazy, you do know that, right?”

Kimon didn’t look at Telemachus, just stared at the sunset.

“I mean, mom told me he gets confused sometimes, but-”

“Yeah, well he’s insane. Lost part of his mind somewhere.”

Telemachus frowned a bit at the harsh judgement of their grandfather.

“He’s not mad, he’s just. . .getting old, I guess. And maybe taking care of his garden helps, somehow.”

Kimon just rolled his eyes and nothing but silence filled the air between them for a few minutes. Nysa walked over to where the two boys were sitting and set her water bucket down at the base of the tree.

“Mom wants you to help us get dinner ready, Kimon,” she said grumpily. “Tele, your mom told me to tell you to go help grandpa with his bushes.”

“I have to haul water now too? I don’t wanna do that!” Telemachus protested. Kimon was already climbing down the tree without him.

“Just get it over with Telemachus. . .” he sighed, following his sister up the hill to the house.

Telemachus scowled and climbed down the tree, picking up the water bucket from the ground.

He filled his bucket from the well and stumbled down the hill with his heavy load. This wasn’t fair! Nysa was four years older than him (and apparently much stronger as well). He dropped the bucket next to his grandfather and stood there, panting heavily for a few moments, waiting for him to notice his grandson. After an awkwardly long moment Laertes finally spoke, still not looking up.

“You gonna say something or just stand there like an idiot?”

“Sorry! I wasn’t sure if you noticed me or not. . .” he stammered.

Telemachus’ face flushed with embarrassment and he squatted down next to his grandfather, nudging the water bucket closer to Laertes.

“Of course I noticed you, I'm not entirely oblivious.”

His grandfather took the bucket of water and carefully poured it at the base of some small flower plants before looking up at Telemachus. He looked surprised for half a second.

“Odysse-” he started.

Telemachus quickly shook his head no.

“Telemachus. His son,” he whispered regretfully.

“You look so much like him, sorry. . .”

“Don’t worry about it. . .” he mumbled, swallowing back the mixed feelings rose in his chest.

They sat together in thoughtful silence for a while. Laertes finally made a grunt of effort and pulled himself up from the ground. Telemachus scrambled to his feet after him and followed him as they walked down to the olive grove.

“See that big one?” his grandfather asked after a while and pointed to a large olive tree with a twisted trunk, smiling faintly. “I planted that when I was little. I was only this big!”

He held his hand at his waist level to indicate how tall he had been. Telemachus smiled softly and he could feel his tail wagging slightly under his tunic.

“And those two,” he pointed to two younger olive trees with a fond smile. “Are from when Ody and Ctimene were little.”

Telemachus grinned as his grandfather plucked a few thin branches from one of the trees and wove it into a leafy crown, which he held out to Telemachus like the boy had just won a competition of some kind. Laertes took off the prince’s pileus and placed the makeshift laurels on his head. Telemachus remembered his wolf ears were no longer hidden after half a second, and froze in horror. The old man seemed to notice the wolf ears and stared for a few moments, then shrugged and kept walking through the orchard. Telemachus blinked in surprise and ran to catch up.
“Grandpa. . .? Didn’t you notice anything?” he asked hesitantly.

“Hmm? N. . .no clue what you’re talking about, my dear boy.”

He laughed nervously and Telemachus didn’t know whether to feel relieved or amused or annoyed.

“The wolf ears?” he asked.

“So those are actually real?! Oh thank the gods, I’m not going entirely insane just yet. . .” he muttered. "So. . .is that a recent thing?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother knows?”

“Have you tried hiding stuff from her?” he laughed.

“That’s fair. And. . .don’t worry, son, your secret’s safe with me.”

Telemachus wasn’t sure if he was being called son figuratively or if his grandfather had forgotten who he was talking to again, but he didn’t mind. He hadn’t had a conversation with his grandfather like this. . .in a long time. It was nice. It felt like some dam had burst between them and their conversation could ebb and flow naturally again.

Telemachus eventually pulled the laurels off his head as they started walking in companionable silence back towards the house; he tugged the pileus over his ears once more.

“Kimon, he said that you lost part of your mind. . .what does that mean?” he asked quietly.

His grandfather sighed deeply and looked out at the sea as if it somehow held all the answers he needed.

“I am getting older. My memory isn't what it used to be, neither is my body. . .but I don't think I've gone mad just yet, child.”

“But you're always quiet. . .? and you get confused a lot, and. . .Kimon said that-”

“Kimon doesn't think beyond what he sees, doesn't take the time to try and understand what isn't normal to him. He's still young, just like you, but he tries to act like he's already grown up. You both have a lot of learning to do before you are men. . . And maybe it's true my mind was unsettled; I did let Odysseus take over the kingdom earlier than most kings would. But you don’t need power to be happy, Telemachus. I got to rest out here for years in a peaceful retirement with my wife, and I think that helped ease my mind a bit.”

Laertes smiled slightly and paused by a patch of flowers to pull a few weeds.

“Do you still miss her? Grandma, I mean. I suppose it's been a few years, but. . .I still miss her.”

“Yes, I miss her. Of course I miss her. . .”

He seemed to grow just a little older and a pained expression crossed his face.

“. . .I think you're a lot like my mom.” Telemachus decided. “Your love keeps going. Even when they're not with you. That's pretty cool if you ask me.”

His grandfather chuckled and they started back up the hill slowly. His grandfather was starting to slow down after the short walk, and had to take breaks every once in a while.

“Did you know your great-great-grandfather was Hermes? Or your great-grandfather was mentored by Hermes at least? I don't remember that whole story, and I only met Anticlea’s father once. . .” Laertes said with a slight smile, as if he was about to tell a long and exciting story.

“What? A god?!” Telemachus said excitedly, his tail wagging happily beneath his tunic.

His grandfather laughed, “Yes, a god. That means you have god stuff running in our veins.”

Telemachus giggled, “God stuff?"

He nodded sagely, “God stuff. And your father–he was mentored by Athena. He was her favourite warrior!”

Laertes slowly sat down in the shade of the house on a stool with an exaggerated groan, his eyes twinkling happily. Telemachus sat down at his feet, more than happy to hear stories about his father.

“Once when he was young–maybe a few years older than you–there were reports of this massive boar in the forest around Ithaca. So Odysseus and some of his friends went out to track it down, and. . .”

Telemachus had heard many of these stories already, but they never failed to excite him. He could listen for hours. Or at least until dinner was ready.

— — — — —

Ctimene spoke softly as she cleaned up the food after dinner with Penelope’s help, “Nysa’s getting engaged in the fall.”

“Really? Gods, they grow up so fast. I remember when your kids were still learning to walk. . .”

Penelope laughed at the memories of Kimon and Nysa being chaotic toddlers and wiped the table clean with a damp cloth.

“And I remember when you had Telemachus, and Odysseus ran all the way to my house to tell me, and then got so worked up about it that he fainted on my doorstep!” Ctimene shot back while snickering.

“Oh, how could I forget that! The poor man was freaking out more than me, and I was the one giving birth. . . “

Her smile slowly faded as she thought about her husband. She watched Ctimene put away the clean dishes with a slightly melancholic look. Ctimene noticed Penelope’s silence and set her things down, coming over and taking one of Penelope’s hands in her own gently.

“I know. We all miss them. . .”

Penelope sniffled back tears, “What if he doesn’t come back? What am I supposed to tell Telemachus, I don’t-”

“You say that as if you could get rid of my brother that easily!” Ctimene huffed, and Penelope laughed sadly. “Seriously though. Odysseus would fight through hell for you, I’ve never seen a man so devoted. I had never seen my brother so madly and deeply in love with someone until he met you. And I’m not kidding, that idiot would come back just to haunt me ‘till I died; the annoying jerk. . .” she said fondly.

Ctimene squeezed Penelope’s hand and pulled away. Penelope chuckled and wiped away her tears.

“Odysseus always was an idiot, wasn’t he?” She teased her sister-in-law.

“You have no idea! You have just opened a Pandora’s box of blackmail on my brother, and this might take all night-”

The two women laughed and Telemachus decided he had eavesdropped enough. He quietly crept away from the window where he had been listening to his mother and aunt talk and climbed back up the ladder to the roof, where he and his cousins were sleeping. Drowsiness was beginning to overtake him and he curled up on his sleeping mat, staring up at the twinkling stars above him. Telemachus yawned and slowly drifted off into dreams about adventures in far away places and fighting monsters with his father. Kimon snored loudly nearby and Nysa groaned and pulled a blanket over her head as she tried to find a comfortable position.

Chapter Text

Telemachus sat beside his mother, watching as she rapidly moved the shuttle back and forth across her loom. It made a soft repetitive sound, and he watched, entranced, as row by row, the patterns slowly formed out of the chaos of jumbled threads. She asked him to go and light a few lamps and he sleepily stumbled to his feet and brought a few oil lamps closer to the loom, so his mother could see her work as the sun slipped lower beneath the horizon.

The autumn day had seemed long, but it had been a good one; Telemachus' thirteenth birthday. He wasn't sure if he felt any different, or any older, but his mother had called him a wonderful young man and it made him swell with pride. If he was supposed to be the “man of the house” now, or if he was suddenly expected to take on more princely duties, he wasn't sure he felt ready for it. . .

But his mother had let him skip his studies today, had made his favourite foods for lunch, and had given him a thin golden circlet: a crown fitting for a young prince. All in all, it had been a pretty good birthday for the little wolf of Ithaca!

His tail and ears appeared to be a permanent fixture for now and he was getting pretty good at keeping them hidden from the world. He knew his mother prayed to Athena about him, praying that he would go back to normal and that his life would be easy, but Telemachus was so used to his ears and tail that he now thought he would feel odd without them.

Telemachus sat back down beside Penelope and leaned against her. She paused her weaving for a moment and moved to let him lay his head in her lap. Telemachus smiled slightly and she smiled back, combing his curly hair back from his face and stroking his ears gently. He curled up against her and closed his eyes, Sleep already knocking on his door after the busy day. She returned to her weaving, the shuttle moving back and forth; back and forth through the threads. She paused every once in a while to pick up a different thread. Telemachus, half awake, listened contentedly to his mother humming, snipping thread with a small pair of scissors, and adjusting the loom quietly.

It was times like these when he truly realized how much he loved his mother. She was an anchor for Telemachus, as steady as her hands, and he could see now more of how she had protected him and taught him as he grew. He missed the father he had never known, but maybe his mother could be enough. . . She could never be both of his parents, but she was much more than just a mother, and for that he was grateful. He sleepily mumbled ‘I love you’ and then slipped off into his dreams again; now they were filled with his adventures as the future king of Ithaca.

— — — — —

But it seemed nothing good ever lasted forever for Telemachus.

The first suitors started coming, in the very same year Telemachus turned thirteen. He had just come into the courtyard of the palace after an uneventful hunting trip, Argos trotting at his heels happily, when he saw a few men standing near the gate. He didn’t particularly feel like talking to people right now, but, now that he was the crown prince of Ithaca, he guessed that greeting guests was probably part of his duties. He tugged his hat further down one more time, just in case his ears were showing, and walked over, leaning on his spear as he addressed the men. He waved Argos away and the old dog ambled off to Telemachus’ room.

“Good afternoon!” he said with the pretense of enthusiasm, unsure of who these men were, and why they were here.

One of the men stepped forward, and Telemachus’ tail instantly bristled warily beneath his tunic. Telemachus didn’t like him instinctually, and he couldn’t figure out why exactly. He had a grumpy face that didn’t look like it ever smiled, and dark hair streaked with silver, pulled back into a small bun. His shaggy beard was trimmed and oiled, but all it looked like to the prince was an effort to show off wealth. An air of excess and waste, rather than genuine self care.

“My name is Eupeithes. I’m a nobleman of Ithaca, and a wealthy businessman, perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Eupeithes smiled in a way that made Telemachus’ skin crawl.

“No, I haven’t.” he answered blankly, enjoying the annoyed and embarrassed look on the man’s face.

“I am here to suggest my eldest son as the queen’s suitor. As you know, the king has been gone for quite some time. . .other kings have returned to their homes, the war has been over for nearly two years now, and yet Odysseus is nowhere to be found. Ithaca needs a new king, and I’m here to personally recommend my son as the best candidate for her hand.”

The other men nodded and started speaking loudly for themselves. A man with short dark hair stepped forward, pushing Eupeithes out of the way and talking to the prince in a way Telemchus would talk to a small dog. He was younger than Eupeithes by far, but still many years Telemachus’ senior.

“The old fool is right about some things: this kingdom does need a king. What he’s wrong about is that it should be his son. Obviously, this kingdom needs a wise man at its head. . .like, I don’t know. . .me? My name is Eurymachus, by the way, in case you should ever need to mention me to the queen~”

Telemachus just laughed in disbelief and shifted his weight from one leg to another casually.

“Seriously? The queen is devoted entirely to Odysseus, and him alone, and you really think she would settle for the likes of you? Idiots.”

“And just who do you think you are, to speak so freely to some of Ithaca’s most powerful men?!” Eupeithes huffed, pushing his way back to the front of the group.

Oh this would be fun.

“Telemachus! The prince. Y’know, Penelope and Odysseus’ son. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?” he teased slightly.

The suitors stood there awkwardly behind Eupeithes and Eurymachus, shifting uncomfortably as the two that had spoken fumed with embarrassment. Telemachus smirked triumphantly and would have left them there at the gate, but his mother grabbed him before he could leave. He stood by her side, scowling, as she greeted their guests, quickly apologizing for her son’s irresponsible and rude behaviour. The suitors quickly moved on from Telemachus’ disrespect and eagerly presented Penelope with impressive gifts and marriage proposals (which she politely tolerated). The prince took note of how she was very careful to neither confirm nor deny her interest in any one of them–much to their frustration.

— — — — —

Dinner was awkward to say the least.

Telemachus sat beside his mother at the head of the table now. He watched as more and more men presented ridiculously expensive gifts to his mother, only for her to turn them down without a second thought. These men were wealthy merchants and nobles, not just from Ithaca, but from nearby areas as well.

His mother had briefly chastised him by means of an annoyed whisper during the meal about “being rude to the men earlier” (it turned out she had gotten wind of his insult to Eurymachus and Eupeithes and didn’t like it). She didn’t mind the fact that he had been rude to the kind of men her suitors were, but she didn’t want the men to get unnecessarily annoyed at Telemachus after only a few hours of being guests in the palace.

The little wolf of Ithaca was only just beginning to understand how fragile their rule was with his father gone. The only thing that stood between total disorder and his family was his mother’s cunning and knowledge of societal rules. And that was a slightly terrifying thought to the young prince! She couldn’t refuse these suitors since they had a reasonable excuse, that Odysseus was dead or never coming home after so many years, and they all wanted to fill the power vacuum left behind. And she couldn’t turn away guests, Zeus forbid, so here she and Telemachus were; stuck in the dining hall with a few strange men who kept talking and fighting with each other over the right to marry the queen.

Usually he ate dinner with only his mother, just the two of them. He hadn’t realised how much he would miss those moments from now on. His mother had stayed long enough to acknowledge her guests and eat a little, but then had retreated to her chambers for the night. Telemachus wished he could join her, but he guessed that it would probably be improper to leave their guests alone in their home like that.

It was starting to get late, way past his bedtime (He was a prince! And thirteen! He didn’t need a bedtime!), and while he reveled in the slight freedom, it didn’t feel particularly freeing to have to be with all these strange people. He was getting weary of having to talk to people. It was particularly weird to think that these men all wanted to marry his mother. None of them seemed to like the young prince’s presence though, which would make them terrible fathers, Telemachus thought, not that they seemed to care. It was very dark outside when the suitors finally finished eating and talking, and the sleepy prince dragged himself up from the chair to make sure all the men got settled in the palace's guest rooms. He mumbled instructions to a few servants who quickly nodded and left to do his bidding, and started walking to his room, eyes drifting to the strange moonlit shadows cast across the hall’s floors. He heard a slight sound and looked up to find a young man was standing in the hall in front of him, leaning against the wall. Telemachus only spared him a brief glance, too tired to care at this point.

The man had dark skin like Telemachus’ cousins; and long knotted hair, tied back into a loose bun. The stranger had a scar across one eye and looked to be a few years older than Telemachus. He had a strange grin, his white teeth glinting in the dim torchlight like the gold that hung from his ears and about his neck.

“So you're the prince?” he began with a hopeful smile.

“What of it? Speak quickly, I want to go to bed.” he snapped, glaring.

“Feisty, huh? That’s not a bad thing, y’know-”

“And who are you?” he asked, really just wanting to go to bed right about now.

“One of your mother’s suitors now, I suppose.”

He made an awkward attempt at a genuine smile and snickered as Telemachus’ glare deepened into a scowl.

“I hope that doesn't mean we have to be enemies, Telemachus. . .My father is Eupeithes, by the way, the one you insulted in the gateway this afternoon.”

The man looked down, pretending to inspect his nails meticulously, letting Telemachus’ anxiety run wild for a moment. He stepped closer and slung an arm around the prince’s shoulders, Telemachus flinched, preparing himself for a punch or something. Instead the man laughed and slapped his back.

“It was awesome! No one talks to my dad like that, he got all flustered and angry- ugh, you have got to do that again my friend, what I would give to see the look on that jerk’s face again. . .!”

“You’re not angry?”

Telemachus stood there in confusion, baffled by the unexpected response.

“Angry?! Gods no, that was amazing. . . The guy’s a jerk, I mean, he wants me to marry your mom, a woman who is, like, double my age, just to get more power and riches. It was. . .kind of nice to see someone take him down a few pegs. So, um, thanks, for that. Just wanted to talk to you personally, the prince of Ithaca! I mean, wow. . .”

He smiled awkwardly and stepped back. Telemachus smiled back, thinking the flattery was genuine awe.

“Nice to meet you, um. . .I didn’t catch your name, I’m sorry-”

“Antinous, son of Eupeithes.” he said proudly, sticking out his hand.

“Well, nice to meet you, Antinous. Have a good night.”

He shook the young man’s hand and watched from his bedroom doorway as Antinous walked down the hall and disappeared.

He slept peacefully, even with all the strangers now living in his halls.

Perhaps some of them weren’t so bad. . .

Antinous didn’t seem so bad, after all. . .

Chapter Text

Telemachus sat on the ground, sketching vaguely with a pen on a sheet of paper. The hall was empty except for a slight breeze rustling in between pillars and through archways. This wing of the palace was almost always empty, and Telemachus often retreated here on days when he wanted to get away from the suitors’ noise and mess. Today was one of those days.

Many months had come and gone, and even more suitors had come to try and marry Penelope; now there were probably over a hundred feasting in their halls every night. Some of them were relatively polite, but for the most part they were all older than him: loud, crude, and selfish. He found himself feeling awkward to exist in his own home, and felt like he couldn’t ever take his pileus off for fear of someone finding out his secret.

But this hall was his safe haven. Cool, damp, winter wind breezed past him in the corridor and he could smell rain in the air. He looked up at the tapestry on the opposite wall, trying to sketch every detail onto his paper. It showed his father, Odysseus, son of Laertes, ruler of Ithaca, in all his glory. He was pretty sure it had been woven by his mother (she had had many years to weave it after all; Telemachus was now fourteen). In all his mother’s stories Telemachus knew his father as a heroic warrior, but in this tapestry the young king was standing next to Penelope, holding a baby gently–Telemachus as an infant. His father looked so happy and gentle and kind, that Telemachus could begin to understand why his mother’s eyes sometimes teared up with longing when she spoke of him. His drawing could never capture, in the same way as the tapestry had, the way his father looked at his mother like she was the most priceless thing in the world and how he held Telemachus close like he was his richest treasure.

Footsteps made him look up from his sketches, sandals smacking against the cold tiles.

“So this is where the little prince runs off to!”

It was Antinous. Telemachus was a little surprised by the fact that he actually didn’t hate the man’s sudden company, though he would have preferred to be alone a little longer.

“Why are you here?” he asked softly, setting his sketches aside and mentally forcing his tail to stay still under his legs.

“Why not?”

Antinous flashed an innocent grin and sat down next to Telemachus on the floor, following the boy’s gaze up to the tapestry on the wall.

“That’s Odysseus? Your dad?” he asked blankly.

Telemachus thought over the question for a moment, “Yes, my father.”

“I don’t get it. . .” he tilted his head as if thinking very hard about a difficult scenario.

“Don’t get what?” he asked quickly.

“What your mom saw in him!” he laughed slightly. “He’s kinda short. Decent looking, but nothing remarkable. Perhaps it's just this particular tapestry. . .It certainly doesn’t capture your mother’s beauty, so why should it do your father justice?”

Telemachus’ face was red with anger and confusion but he finally came up with a response.

“Says the guy with an abusive dad!” he shot back, quite aware it wasn’t really a relevant argument.

“Says the guy with no dad,” he shot back with practiced ease.

Telemachus was dumbfounded. Why was Antinous being so mean all of a sudden?

“Oh, get over it Princey, I was just joking. . .”

He laughed and shoved Telemachus’ shoulder roughly. Telemachus laughed awkwardly, not finding any of this funny at all. Antinous glanced down at Telemachus and noticed his sketches. He snatched up the paper, much to Telemachus’ protest, and looked at them with an amused grin.

“Out of all the things you could draw, you chose this dumb tapestry?” he asked, as if it was obviously something idiotic.

“I like this tapestry. . .” the prince mumbled.

“Why? I thought Odysseus was supposed to be some great warrior, blessed by the gods, not some dumb family man. He practically looks like the wife in this stupid picture, not Penelope! I’m guessing Penelope made it?”

He didn’t give Telemachus a chance to respond before continuing.

“Men should have paintings and trophies of their victories, tell stories of their conquests, not dote on their wives and children incessantly. . . Penelope is surely a cunning–and cruel–woman to have woven a piece that would bring such shame on her husband.”

Antionous looked almost impressed by his idea of Penelope doing something to dishonor the old king.

“Maybe my dad thought that his family was his greatest victory. . .?” Telemachus suggested hesitantly.

“That’s dumb.”

“Oh. Sorry. . .”

“Men don’t like their families. They just have them to use them. Anyone that thinks otherwise is stupid.” Antinous mumbled softly, touching the small scar over his eye.

Telemachus looked down at his sketches as Antinous continued ranting about what a woman’s place was and how “real” men behaved. Was Odysseus really the perfect hero the prince thought he was? Doubts tempted to sneak into his mind but he pushed them away.

“My dad wasn’t a shameful man.”

“Still don’t believe me? Try doing some investigating beyond your mother’s lovestruck tales, and maybe you’ll see what I’m talking about. Fathers aren’t loving or kind like that. That’s silly to believe, especially with you being nearly a man yourself!”

Antinous ruffled the prince’s pileus playfully and Telemachus panicked for half a second, quickly readjusting it to make sure it stayed on.

“Fine. I’ll go look for evidence myself.” he huffed, getting up from the ground and dusting the hem of his chiton off. Antinous seemed to notice for the first time that Telemachus’ tunic was longer than most boys’. Telemachus walked down the hall, Antinous tagging along behind and teasing him.

“Maybe you’re just as girly as your daddy!” he laughed.

Telemachus blushed in embarrassment, adding fuel to Antinous’ fire.

“Shut up dude. . .”

“Why are your skirts so long anyways? It’s weird. What’re you hiding?”

He laughed loudly and bumped into Telemachus, smacking his small frame sideways by accident. Telemachus stumbled, face burning as he briefly lost his balance. Antinous tried to suppress his snickering. Telemachus scowled fiercely and Antinous backed off.

“Oh come on, it was just a joke. . .so sensitive, ugh. . .”

Telemachus led Antinous up the stairs to the room that had been his nursery as a child, which was now being used as more of a storage room. Antinous opened the door without a second thought and walked in as if he owned the place. Telemachus sighed and started to step in as well, but a hand pulled him back by the arm gently. He looked back in surprise to see a familiar old servant woman, Eurycleia, who had been his father’s nurse as a child. She was as much a grandmother to him as Anticlea had been, and he would usually listen to her judgement on matters that were beyond his limited experience.

“Tele, what are you looking for?” she asked, her raspy voice somehow comforting and gentle.

“Oh, me and Antinous are looking for stuff about my dad.”

Her face burst into a soft smile, the lines by her eyes crinkling slightly.

“Oh, I could talk about him for hours. . .he was the most chaotic child I have ever seen, much like you were-”

“Telemachus! Are you done talking to the crazy old lady yet? I found something~”

Eurycleia frowned at being called a “crazy old lady” but Telemachus had already waved her away dismissively and entered the room after Antinous. Eurycleia stood, dumbfounded, as the kind boy she used to know, left her wisdom for a two-faced friend and cruel lies.

Telemachus walked in and his face paled as he saw what Antinous was holding: a small stuffed animal, a wolf, from when he was a child. He hadn’t seen it in years! He ran over.

“Wolfy!”

He tried to grab it but Antinous held it above his head with a grin. Telemachus tried to jump and take it from him, but Antinous was just a little taller than him and held it out of reach.

“Wolfy?! Oh gods, you have a stuffed animal named ‘Wolfy’? Because it's a wolf, right? Real smart kid. . .”

He moved it higher as Telemachus almost reached it.

“I was four when I named it!” he protested.

“You still have your baby things? Oh man, this is hilarious. . .”

He tossed the stuffed animal to his other hand, just past Telemachus’ reaching fingertips.

“Give Wolfy back, Antinous!” he yelled.

Antinous soon lost interest in this particular method of irritating the prince and begrudgingly tossed the small wolf to him. Probably a wise choice, considering Telemachus was about to bite his arm as hard as he could. And with his canine teeth (which he had recently discovered were getting longer and sharper than most people’s ever did) it probably would have hurt Antinous pretty badly.

Antinous went back to sorting through boxes of Telemachus’ baby things. Telemachus hugged Wolfy tightly and silently asked the stuffed animal’s forgiveness for not rescuing it sooner. Telemachus sat down next to a basket and picked up a few things. There was a small baby rattle, a soft blanket, a few pretty shells, some children’s toys; all things Telemachus had long forgotten by now. Antinous sat next to him making teasing comments occasionally, and sorting through some old decorations and tools that had presumably belonged to Odysseus once upon a time. The two were interrupted by a commanding voice from the doorway.

“Out. Now.”

Telemachus startled at his mother’s stern voice and looked up, and even Antinous’ usual confident smile faded nervously.

“Mom?” Telemachus asked, not getting up yet.

Antinous stood up though, quite quickly, his confident smile returning.

“Ah! Your majesty, your son and I were just looking through some of his old things, having fun on a rainy day, weren’t we, kid?”

He looked at Telemachus and the prince felt compelled to nod quickly. Penelope was not impressed.

“Out. Now. This is still my house and you are not allowed in this room, son of Eupeithes, so I suggest you leave. Quickly.”

She stepped to the side, and pointed him to the door. He laughed it off awkwardly and left the room reluctantly, giving the queen a mock bow as he walked by. Telemachus looked down as his mother closed the door and came over, sitting down next to him.

“Eurycleia heard you guys talking about ‘Wolfy’ and thought you and your little friend might need some backup. . .”

She chuckled and tucked one of his curls behind his ears gently.

“I was fine, I could have handled it. . .nothing was happening, he was just joking. . .” he protested.

“Alright, alright. Call it a hunch, but I just. . .I don't trust any of those men. Especially around you. So just be careful, okay?”

He nodded sullenly and wrapped Wolfy up in his cloak, hugging it close. Penelope sighed and looked at the things on the floor. She picked up the tiny rattle and smiled slightly.

“When you were a baby you cried a lot. Kept us up all night. You liked this though. . .”

She shook it gently and it made a soft, dull, tinkling sound. She picked up the blanket and unfolded it, looking at the threadbare designs on the edges.

“You used to be so small! It’s hard to believe that once I could wrap you up in this.”

She giggled and tucked it around his shoulders like a mini cape.

“I did the designs myself. Your dad would wrap you up in it and carry you around the house. Once I couldn't find you, and I was worried sick, but eventually I found you sleeping in your dad’s arms during one of his meetings. He threatened one of the nobles with death if he talked too loud and woke you up!”

Telemachus couldn’t help but snicker at that.

“Really?”

“Yep. And these shells were from when he tried to teach you to swim! You were. . .barely one year old, at the time? He seemed to think you were the best athlete in all of Ithaca though. I was just worried you were going to drown! I finally made him get out of the water and then he immediately ran off to find shells for you. I swear he was more childish than you ever were,” she said fondly, pressing the shells into Telemachus’ hand.

“Antinous said that dad was a disgraceful man. That he was too soft. . .” Telemachus said softly, not wanting to look his mother in the eyes when he said it.

Penelope frowned.

“Your father was not a disgrace in any way, Tele. He was not a coward, he just knew that some things are more important than glory and honor. He loved me, and he loved you, and that is not something to be ashamed of.”

She picked up Wolfy from his arms, stroking back its fabric ears gently, hands tracing over worn-down fabric and messy stitches.

“You loved this thing as a kid, brought it with you everywhere. Once, in the middle of the night, you came into my room and told me that ‘Wolfy had a nightmare’ and that you wanted to help him not be scared anymore. Considering you were trembling like a rabbit, I wasn't so sure it was Wolfy that had the bad dream, but I let you two snuggle up in bed that night with me anyways.”

She smiled fondly, tucking Wolfy back into his arms

“What do you know about wolves, Telemachus?”

He looked over at her, confused by the sudden–and seemingly random–question.

“They’re smart, cunning, and brave. They’re hunters, wild animals, beasts that could tear you apart with giant fangs and razor claws and-!”

He grinned, baring his small fangs as he got excited.

“Alright, dangerous animals, yeah. But do you know anything else about wolves?” she pressed gently..

“Well. . .”

“Wolves protect their own, provide for their family, and defend the ones they love with their lives. That is what a wolf is, Telemachus. Your father was a fierce warrior, a powerful king, and a terrifyingly cunning man; but he was also a loving father and husband. You can be a hero and still be a kind person, Telemachus.”

“But Antinous said that real men don’t act like that with their women-”

“And do you see any woman that wants to marry him?” she chuckled and booped his nose. “Because it definitely isn’t me!”

Telemachus laughed and leaned against his mom as she picked up a small ring from the top of a stack of scrolls and documents. She turned it over in her fingers, examining the seal worked into the metal.

“Your father genuinely cared about me, and about you. Being kind doesn’t make you less of a man. Ever.”

She slipped the ring onto his little finger and let him look at it.

“Your father’s signet ring. Figure you're the prince now, hmm? Lots of paperwork that comes with that job.”

Telemachus smiled softly.

“Thanks. . .I think. . .? Can I skip the paperwork?” he teased.

She shook her head and hugged him close.

“Your father was a wolf in the best way possible. You are too, quite literally, I suppose!”

Telemachus blushed and tugged his hat down; his mother kissed the top of his head.

“You’re my little wolf now, got it? That means that you can be the greatest person ever to live, and the fiercest warrior, but you still have to protect your pack, okay? And you gotta let me hug you, even when you’re all grown up, okay?.”

Telemachus tried to push her away while laughing but she pulled him and Wolfy in close and didn’t let go.

“Your dad would be proud of you. So am I. So don’t listen to those stupid suitors about who you can and can’t be. I like you just the way you are.”

After a few minutes of happy silence Penelope stood and left the room. Telemachus followed after another moment, twisting the signet ring on his finger, tail wagging slightly. The man in the tapestry was his father, and that was the way that his mother had chosen to immortalize him. Telemachus was okay with that. His father was caring and kind and loving; and Telemachus didn’t need him to be anything more than that to earn his respect.

Chapter Text

The sun was high overhead, summer once again returned to the island of Ithaca. Telemachus sat in the shaded courtyard, away from the main group of suitors in the hall, watching Amphinomus do some simple magic tricks. Telemachus didn’t care for Amphinomus, and he definitely didn’t think the awkward man would ever marry his mother, but the suitor was definitely–and quite sincerely–trying.

“Andddddd- which cup are the dice under now?”

Amphinomus grinned as he moved the three cups around quickly, swishing the dice from cup to cup. Telemachus sighed and pointed at the middle cup. Amphinomus picked it up and groaned. The dice were there.

“Damn it, again? How do you do this?!”

He went back to practicing the trick.

“You’re not very good still, I can track the dice pretty easily. . .” Telemachus mumbled, leaning against the wall.

“Does your mother care for magic tricks much?” he asked curiously.

“Don't know. I think she likes smart people, not double-faced tricksters.” he snapped grumpily.

“Gods, it's just a silly game, no need to call me a lying bastard…” he rolled his eyes and stacked the cups up, then unstacked them.

“Ughhhhh, why is it so hot todayyyyy. . .” Telemachus whined.

Amphinomus dropped his dice by accident and reached down under the table to get them. Antinous walked over and banged his fist on the table with a teasing grin. The loud sound startled Amphinomus badly, who hit his head on the underside of the table. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head with a wince.

“Whatcha doing under the table like a dog, Amphi? Find anything interesting down there?” Antinous laughed mockingly.

Amphinomus didn’t respond, only scowling and putting his dice away. Annoyed by the lack of response from the other young man, Antinous quickly moved on to a different topic.

“A couple of us are going swimming in the river. You or the Princey here interested?”

He looked at Telemachus expectantly. Telemachus smiled and nodded. Swimming sounded. . .nice, actually. It was too hot to do anything else really.

“Sure, I'll go tell my mother I'm going.” He quickly ran off, ignoring the joking comments from a few nearby suitors about him being a momma's boy.

He ran up the stairs to his mom’s room and poked his head in.

“I’m going to the river, mom!” he announced, running off before she could protest.

Penelope sighed and shook her head with a laugh at her ridiculous child. She didn’t mind him going to the river, though if she knew he was going with a few of the suitors, she might have cared more.

— — — — —

The water was cool and quick flowing, rushing through small paths between rocks and the occasional tree branch. Telemachus sat under the shade of an oak tree on the banks of the river, his feet dipped in the foamy torrent up to his mid-calf. He entertained himself for a while by watching a few leaves bob and dance as they floated down the river, but a voice cut off his thoughts.

“Just gonna sit there and stare at the water? You are truly a strange boy if you think that sitting and thinking of poetry or something is better than enjoying the river.”

Antinous chuckled and shoved Telemachus forward into the water. Telemachus stumbled and found himself standing a few feet into the cold torrent, the water up to his knees and soaking the hem of his chiton.

“Come on! Come swim with us and ditch those silly skirts. . .” Antinous teased as he pulled off his own clothes and threw them over the branches of the oak tree.

He climbed a large rock that overhung a deep pool of the river and leapt in, splashing water everywhere. He laughed and spat out water as he resurfaced. Amphinomus, who had been standing nearby, wiped water from his face with a weary sigh.

Antinous and another suitor soon fell to playful roughhousing in the shallows, and Amphinomus swam through a deeper section of the rushing waters, diving to collect any smooth rocks that caught his eye. Telemachus sullenly retreated back to the shady bank, trying to dry the hem of his tunic. He longed to swim with the others, and his ears longed to be free of the hair pins and the oppression of his hat. It was hot, and he was wearing too much, and he was so tantalizingly close to the relief of cool water–but he couldn’t swim without revealing his secret. He slowly slipped away from the others when he was sure they had forgotten about him, and climbed over a few rocks, finding himself in a calmer part of the river. It was a little ways downstream from the main group and hidden from them by a bend in the river’s course; here he could perhaps have a little privacy.

He flashed his sharp teeth in an eager grin, his hat off in a second, his ears unpinned, and his chiton flung aside onto the bank. He was soon up to his waist in the cool relief of the river, his tail getting heavy as the water soaked its fur. He splashed water over his head and dunked himself beneath the surface, scrubbing his hair and then shaking the water from it aggressively like a wet dog. He hadn’t bathed in the river in ages–his mother preferred for him to bathe at home where he could have the assurance of privacy–but Telemachus loved the wild waters tumbling around his legs far more than the warm stillness of a tub. No matter how nice a jar of water being poured over his shoulders felt, he would always prefer sticking his head beneath a frothy stream of the river to get cleaned up.

He laid his clothes to dry out on a large warm stone, and played in the water, for once not having to care about prying eyes. He giggled as he tried to catch frogs, wove crowns from flowers and grass and rustled them into his hair, and tried to stack slippery river stones atop each other in towers. He hadn’t been here in ages and he hadn’t realised how much he missed the wild chaos of the river; the way its cold currents bent around his body, the way it tasted like melted snow and stone in his mouth.

— — — — —

Antinous had eventually harassed Eurymachus too much, and Eurymachus, being older, had shoved him under water for a few seconds too long in retribution. Antinous, feeling embarrassed and annoyed and still coughing up water, retreated to the shade of the oak tree to sulk. He noticed something was off. . .

“Amphi! Where’s Telemachus?”

Amphinomus looked over and blinked, suddenly going pale.

“Uh. . .I. . .he was right there, I swear! Just a minute ago. . .? His mom is going to kill us.”

Antinous groaned, knowing Amphinomus had a point.

“The Princey is probably just too shy to swim around us. He didn’t want to take off his clothes and get in the water earlier. . .Ugh, I have to go look for him, don’t I. . .”

He looked to Amphinomus in hopes of company, but the other man had already gone back to swimming. Antinous sighed and wandered down the river with grumbled complaints and curses.

Antinous pushed aside a few branches and slid down a muddy bank, finding himself downstream from the others, around a small bend. He saw someone rinsing his hair in the water and he nearly called out to him, but as the boy flicked his wet hair back, out of his face, Antinous saw the wolf ears and froze. His blood ran cold and chills echoed up his spine in a way that only happened when his dad yelled at him. Was this truly Telemachus? Or a nymph perhaps? A god maybe?

Telemachus’ ears flicked over at the sound of Antinous’ panicked breathing and froze in almost the same manner that Antinous had a second before. They stared at each other for a few heart-pounding moments and Telemachus’ tail trailed between his legs under the water. He hoped Antinous wouldn’t see that in addition to the ears.

“You have ears. . .and a tail. . .” Antinous asked, his voice cracking in fear. “Telemachus. . .?”

Well, the big secret was as good as out by now. What the hell!

“Yes, that continues to be my name, Antinous,” he said dryly as he waded over and grabbed his clothes from the rock he had laid them on, briefly appreciating the sunny warmth of their embrace as he pulled them on.

He looked around for where he had set his pileus and spotted it on the low hanging branch of a tree. Antinous had let him cover himself and hide the tail, but he wasn’t going to let this pass without comment. Telemachus reached to pick the pileus up, but Antinous was faster, snatching up the hat and holding it above Telemachus’ head. Telemachus blinked in confusion.

“Antinous, what are y-”

“I wanna see them. Up close. Don’t hide them just yet. . .please.”

Antinous looked so pathetic that Telemachus relented and let Antinous examine his fuzzy ears, though he felt a little weird doing so. Antinous touched them and huffed a laugh of disbelief.

“So you're just a little wolf. . .” he ruffled the prince’s hair and tugged on his ears.

Telemachus scowled and batted his hands away.

“Had ‘em since I was like twelve,” he mumbled, pinning his ears back as Antinous watched curiously.

“And you never showed them to me? Tele, I thought we were friends, man!”

Antinous reluctantly handed Telemachus back his pileus, which Telemachus gratefully tugged down over his ears.

“Only my mom and a few servants know, and I'm not keen on letting all of Ithaca know that their prince is half beast.”

“Could be cool though.”

He grabbed Telemachus’ chin suddenly and pulled down one of his lips with a brush of his thumb, revealing his canine teeth. Telemachus pulled back, surprised by the action, and blushing furiously with embarrassment.

“Oh gods, you have sharp little teeth too?! I swear, if I had known you were part puppy-” Antinous teased.

“Wolf! Not a puppy!” he interjected.

“Whatever. . .come on, why are you so shy about it? I mean, sure, it’s weird as hell but-”

Telemachus tied the belt around his waist and slicked water from his still-damp skin and face.

“I don’t tell people because of this! Literally exactly this! People think it's weird,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Antinous and Telemachus started back up the river bank, back to where the others were.

“Yes you did.”

“Fine, but I'm just saying-”

“Then maybe stop ‘saying’, Antinous. . .”

“Wait, is the tail why you always wear longer chitons?! It all makes sense now!” he laughed and punched Telemachus playfully in the arm.

Telemachus hid his wince from the action and sighed, “Shut up, Antinous.”

— — — — —

Antinous yanked Telemachus’ hair harshly and Telemachus turned, aiming a punch at Antinous’ eye.

“No yanking on hair! I thought we agreed on that!”

Antinous laughed and dodged the punch, throwing one of his own, hitting telemachus in the shoulder. Telemachus winced and stumbled back from the older boy’s blow.

“Come on ‘little wolf’, hit me properly!” Antinous goaded.

Telemachus groaned at the nickname and put his fists back up to block another one of Antinous’ heavy hits. The sun shone down on the sparring boys, filtering through the leaves of potted plants, and making golden patterns across the fur of a sleeping Argos. It was just the two of them in the small courtyard, and Telemachus felt comfortable enough to not wear his hat here. His chiton was undone and tied around his waist, exposing his scrawny and sweat-sheened upper body.

Antinous had kept the prince’s secret, but it didn’t exempt the boy from relentless wolf-related teasing.

“Come on you little puppy, didn’t I teach you anything?” Antinous mocked as he grabbed Telemachus’ wrist mid-swing and twisted it painfully until Telemachus yielded.

After Antinous had gotten over the initial shock of learning the prince had wolf ears and a tail, the next thing he noticed was how scrawny the prince was and so he had decided that it was his personal job to train Telemachus. Telemachus wasn’t as enthusiastic; training was harder than he had thought it would be. And another thing that felt different between them was the fact that there was no more flattery from Antinous anymore, only harsh comments disguised as advice; like he had given up on being the prince’s friend, and was now trying to be an older brother or mentor figure instead. But regardless, Telemachus had thought his world was going to fall apart, and yet it hadn’t, and here he was. He was grateful to Antinous for that.

Telemachus shouted and tackled Antinous around the waist, taking him by surprise. Antinous went down for a second and the two grappled clumsily for a minute–Antinous wanting to prove something: Telemachus wanting to survive this lesson. Antinous finally got the upper hand and pinned the boy to the ground, punching him in the face a few times until he finally backed off. Telemachus sat up slowly, feeling dizzy. What was that taste in his mouth? Blood? He dabbed his lip and wasn’t terribly surprised when his finger came away with a trickle of blood on it. It was a bit harsh, even for Antinous.

“You’ll heal fast, calm down. Protect the face next time, idiot. . .”Antinous grumbled and sat down in the shade, wiping sweat from his face.

Telemachus sat down next to Antinous and wiped the blood from his lip and nose, glad for the relief from the sun and fighting. Antinous gulped down some water, Telemachus just watched as the occasional droplet spilled from his lips and trickled down his chin. Gods, he didn’t realize how thirsty he was. . .

“Can I have some?”

Antinous rolled his eyes and handed him the water skin. There wasn’t much left, but Telemachus drank it gratefully anyway.

Neither of them noticed Amphinomus wandering into the courtyard until it was too late.

Amphinomus froze, staring at Telemachus with wide eyes. He looked the prince up and down in confusion and stared at his ears. Telemachus’ blood ran cold, the same way he had felt when Antinous saw him like this for the first time. Before Telemachus could say anything though, Antinous tackled the poor man and held him to the ground.

“Antinous! Get off him!” Telemachus yelled as he ran over and pulled Antinous off an annoyed and bewildered Amphinomus.

Amphinomus just stared at Telemachus as the prince helped him back to his feet, hesitantly glancing at the ears, scared to say something. Telemachus blushed.

“Right. . .uh, that. So um, Amphi, I have wolf ears? And a tail. Long story,” he mumbled.

Amphinomus swallowed dryly and answered hesitantly, “I. . .can see that, yeah. . .”

Hmm. Awkward. Antinous came back over and slung his arm around Amphinomus’ shoulders casually, then tightened his grip until it threatened to be a chokehold.

“And if you mention a word of this to anyone? I swear to the gods I will pull out your guts and feed them to the prince’s stupid mutt. This is our little secret, yeah?” Antinous sneered.

Amphinomus nodded quickly, sweating nervously, while Telemachus thought over the idea of Argos eating human flesh. He didn’t think his old dog would care much for that sort of meat, but he could be wrong–he had seen the hound try and eat weird things before.

“No one is getting fed to Argos because they saw my ears, for crying out loud Antinous, calm down. . .” Telemachus grumbled. “But do try and keep it a secret if you can, Amphinomus.”

Amphinomus nodded quickly and stayed quiet until the tension eased and Antinous went back to resting in the shade. Amphinomus’ glance drifted from the strange ears to Telemachus' bashed-up face.

“Telemachus, you’re bleeding a little-” Amphinomus commented hesitantly to the prince.

“I know,” he sighed.

“He didn’t keep his guard up properly!” Antinous protested from the other side of the courtyard.

Amphinomus went over to yell at Antinous for being too rough on the boy, but Telemachus felt nauseous and wanted no part in their argument. He slipped away with Argos, pulling his chiton back up and tugging his pileus on again, heading for his mother’s quarters.

He weaved around servants and stray suitors, not attracting a whole lot of attention, even with the bloody nose. He knocked twice on his mother’s door and waited for it to open.

He was soon sitting on a stool in his mother’s room as she wiped the blood and dirt off him with a wet rag.

“You were sparring?”

“Yes.”

He winced as she wiped the last of the blood of his raw scrapes.

“With who?”

“Antinous,” he mumbled.

“He’s a bit rough, but you have to learn eventually I suppose. Keep your guard up in a fight, like this. . .” she gently guided his fists in front of his face and let them drop back in his lap when he didn't smile or say anything. "You'll get it. It just takes time." She brushed his messy hair back and kissed his forehead, stroking his fuzzy ears.

Telemachus nodded vaguely and snuggled into his mother’s welcoming embrace. He felt tired and sick, and his body hurt, but his mother chalked it all up to a character building experience. He also wasn’t sure how to feel about Amphinomus knowing his secret as well as Antinous now.

Penelope sighed and brushed his hair gently with her fingers, speaking up after a few minutes of silence, “Do you like any of the suitors? I mean, could you live with any of them as your father?”

Telemachus sat up with a start, “You want to marry one of them?!”

“I didn’t say that Tele, I was just asking if you liked any of them. If you want a father, I want you to be happy!” she shot back.

“Antinous would make a terrible father, even if I'm friends with him, I get the feeling he wouldn’t be particularly gentle with his power. Amphinomus is sweet, but annoyingly stupid, and he would make a terrible king. Eurymachus is deceitful and cruel and-”

His mother laughed softly, “Alright, alright, no need to insult them all. I’m glad to know we’re on the same page though. I want to make sure you’re okay with the decisions I make.”

“It. . .would be weird to have any of them as a father. . .”

He sank back into her hug, thinking over the matter as she played with his hair. Would you really marry one of them if I wanted you to? Would you give up your loyalty and happiness for my sake? Do you actually want to get married and I'm just. . .standing in the way? He wanted to ask, needed to ask, but the questions died in his throat.

He didn’t really want to argue with his mother right now anyways. He finally mumbled some excuse about getting clean clothes on before dinner and hugged his mother goodbye, leaving to his own chambers.

His face and body still ached; a harsh reminder that he could hardly stand up to Antinous in a fight. What kind of man was he? He supposed he would have to figure that out soon, before others forced him to choose.

Chapter Text

His face still hurt and he could feel a small bruise blooming under the sleeve of his tunic where Antinous had punched him in the shoulder. He had cleaned the blood from his face and brushed his tangled hair out, but still found himself feeling rather melancholic and thoughtful. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dull bronze mirror on his wall and for some reason it surprised him a little. His tail had gotten slightly longer, his face looked more grown up, his muscles slightly more defined. Was this what it was like to grow up? He would be fifteen in a few months. He pinned his ears back like he had done a hundred times before and tied his shaggy hair up into a small ponytail. The cloak his mother had made for him two years ago still fit well and he pinned it around his shoulders, enjoying the soft embrace of the familiar garment. He took a deep breath for courage before heading downstairs to dinner.

The hall was crowded as usual. It sounded like men laughing, drinking, eating, fighting, yelling, and talking. He didn’t bother looking for his mother amongst this rabble; she almost always ate in her chambers nowadays so as not to be forced to spend time with the suitors. Unfortunately, Telemachus was not afforded this luxury and so he had taken to eating quietly at the head of the table, trying to go unnoticed until they were all drunk and finally left the hall for the night. He stayed up late most days, later than he had ever been allowed to before they came, but there was no excitement in it, only a vague weariness. His only solace now was daydreaming; imagining that he was keeping this seat of honor warm for when his father came back, and that his father would finally teach him how to be a warrior like him, and help him become a man of strength and honor.

His daydreaming was rudely interrupted by Antinous screeching his chair over next to Telemachus and casually sliding a cup of wine over to him. Telemachus pushed it aside and drank from his own cup, which was mostly water–exactly how he liked it. His mother drank wine easily, but he still couldn’t stomach it much. He didn’t really want to, either, after seeing what wine did to men like the suitors in his hall. They got rowdy, stupid, angry, unpredictable, and making himself like that was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

“Oh come on Tele, you’re no fun at all, just try a little!” Antinous goaded Telemachus, pushing the cup back over to him.

“No thanks,” Telemachus grumbled.

Antinous rolled his eyes and moved away again and Telemachus relaxed; only for Eurymachus to appear on his other side, draining his cup of wine easily.

“Little princey doesn’t like wine? Why’s that?” he teased, leaning on the back of Telemachus’ chair and getting altogether much too close.

Telemachus pushed him away with an annoyed voice, “Why won’t anyone let me eat in peace? Gods. . .”

Telemachus hadn’t noticed one of the servants–Melanthius–pouring a little more wine into the prince’s cup as Eurymachus distracted him. He turned back to his food and chewed a few bites of bread, getting lost in thought again. Had his wine gotten a little less diluted? He could have sworn it had more water in it before. . .

“So Telemachus, I was thinking, when I become king-” one of the suitors teased, standing behind him and tilting the prince's head up to look at him.

Telemachus pushed his hands away and turned around to face him angrily.

“You’re not becoming king anytime soon-”

Another quick splash of wine into his cup that he didn’t notice, another quick glance around as Melanthius melted away into the other groups of suitors. Was everyone intent on keeping him from eating his supper? He took another drink; it really did taste different now. He tried to get the attention of a nearby servant to bring him some water but they. . .ignored him? He didn’t even have time to follow up on the strange occurrence when Amphinomus plopped down next to him.

“So I know you like dogs, and my sister’s son has a dog who just had puppies, and I was wondering if you knew anything about what one does with puppies? Cuz they can’t keep all of them, and I definitely can’t take one, and-”

“Amphi, what in the gods’ name are you rambling about. . .?” Telemachus mumbled, starting to feel a bit weird.

“Oh, um, nevermind, I’ll figure it out later.”

He wandered off with a giggle, as if he was in on some game that Telemachus wasn’t.

He took another drink from his cup. Had it gotten more concentrated in the five seconds he had looked away?! He stood up but, considering the floor seemed unstable, he judged it to be a bad decision and slumped back into his seat; baffled by the subtle changes going on in his body.

Antinous scooted back over to him, pouring some of the wine in his cup into the prince’s deliberately.

“Feeling good yet Wolfy?”

“Why is everything so shaky. . .” he groaned, taking a drink from his cup absently, not even registering the taste of wine anymore.

“Ah, that. It goes away eventually, don’t worry, just have fun with it!”

Telemachus shook his head vaguely. He recalled what his mother had once told him about how to temper alcohol, that eating food could help its effects wear off sooner, but the food on his plate was gone (he could have sworn there had been some a second ago). Melanthius had walked back over, standing next to Antinous, and Telemachus called out weakly to him.

“Can I get some more food…?” he groaned.

Melanthius just laughed softly and poured more wine into the confused Telemachus’ cup.

“No- no, I didn’t ask for. . .” he mumbled as Melanthius walked away with a smirk.

Antinous laughed and pushed Telemachus’ cup closer.

“Drink it all,” he ordered.

“What?”

Telemachus’ head felt foggy and achy, and he wasn’t sure if he was hearing Antinous right.

“You heard me. Drink it, drain the cup. It’s only one! Most of us have already had a few. . . but then again, I suppose you’re just a little boy, aren’t you. Bet your dad could have drunk more than one cup~”

That was enough to push Telemachus’ already-foggy mind over the edge. He grabbed the cup and choked it all down in a few seconds. Even Antinous looked surprised. Then he smirked.

“See, I knew you could do it! Good job, little wolf.”

He punched him in the shoulder again, the same spot as the bruise from last time, and Telemachus suppressed a pathetic grunt of pain. Why were his emotions so confused right now? He felt everything too much, and he wanted to go to bed very badly. What was he doing. . .

“Gods, I'm gonna throw up. . .” he muttered before leaning over and retching for a few minutes.

— — — — —

He didn’t remember much after throwing up, the night had devolved into a drunken blur for the young prince. He drank more after the first cup–he wasn’t sure how much–but he was very sure he had thrown up a few times. He vaguely recalled laying under the table when his senses overwhelmed him, and trying to bite Antinous’ arm for some reason or another and he definitely remembered Melanthius and Antinous dragging him back to his room in the middle of the night. His mind had gone dark and he passed out on the floor of his bedroom.

— — — — —

Sunlight hit Telemachus like a punch in the face. He groaned and sat up, finding himself sprawled on the floor. His clothes were a mess, his head hurt terribly, and everything felt wrong.

“You slept in pretty late.”

Telemachus startled at the voice and looked around wearily. Eurycleia leaned over him and dropped some clean clothes in his lap.

“I didn't mean to. . .I didn't want to, I just. . .” He mumbled, feeling quite pathetic.

“I know dear. Go wash up and change and get something to eat, it's nearly noon already. I won't tell your mother.”

She smiled softly and Telemachus smiled back, getting up slowly. She helped him over to a basin of water and made sure he didn't fall or spill water everywhere.

“How does my mother drink and not get like this?” He asked softly.

“She does get like this sometimes. Not often, and not as much as when she was younger. . .Sometimes when she's particularly lonely she drinks more and acts a bit ridiculous , but that's really not something you need to hear about dear. . .She can just hold her wine better than you. She's older, more experienced, she's used to it. You're not, and that's okay, don't push yourself darling, okay. . .?”

By the time he had vaguely washed up and changed clothes, the sun was already high in the sky. He sat down at the table for lunch, his head pounding and his mind buzzing. His limbs ached from the awkward position he had passed out in last night, and even the dim light in the hall hurt his eyes. He wanted to go back to sleep already.

“Have fun last night?” Antinous grinned, walking over to the disheveled prince.

“No. . .” Telemachus spat grumpily.

“Was that your first time getting actually drunk? Seemed like it. I mean, I think you did pretty well, you just need to-”

He set another cup of wine down in front of Telemachus like he was trying to be helpful but Telemachus growled and smacked the cup away. It crashed to the ground, the wine spilling onto the ground like blood. The room went silent; the other suitors surprised by Telemachus’ sudden outburst at Antinous.

“No! I’m never doing that again!” Telemachus snapped, slumping back into his seat and burying his face in his cloak in a vague attempt to soothe his headache.

Antinous scoffed and moved away, the room slowly went back to normal. Melanthius dropped a bowl of cold porridge in front of the prince with an air of condescension. The food tasted unpleasant, but it was something easy on the stomach that would help his hangover, so Telemachus ate. He tried to ignore the way Melanthius looked at him, as if judging him for his actions last night. Hell, he had no clue what had happened last night, but Melanthius seemed to be less than impressed with the prince’s weak stomach.

“Hey, Melanthius! Where’s that sister of yours?” Eurymachus interrupted, calling out with a laugh.

“None of your business, jerk-face!” Melanthius shouted back with an amused smile.

Eurymachus threw a plate at him and Melanthius ducked, throwing a cup back at the suitor. The hall was soon filled with the sounds of both of them throwing things, laughing, arguing, and wrestling.

Telemachus was too tired to deal with the mess and stood to leave.

“Oh come on princey! Last night was just a funny prank! You’ll think it's funny later, I swear, we were just messing with you-” Antinous said quickly as he moved to Telemachus’ side.

“Leave me,” Telemachus snapped and walked back to his room, leaving a stunned and annoyed Antinous.

He closed the door to his room behind him with an exhausted sigh.

Were they all drunk already? Or did they just always behave like this? Was that what being a man was? If so he wanted no part of it.

He shut the door to his room and pulled the blanket off his bed, laying down on the floor with it.

He fell asleep for a few hours, only to wake to his restless thoughts again.

Were wolves more civilized than men? He was beginning to doubt humanity as a whole. Perhaps not all men were like the suitors, but he had little evidence to the contrary, seeing as these were the only men he had ever really been around.

He groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, squishing his face against the cold floor. Argos pushed his door open and wandered in, walking over to sniff at Telemachus and make sure he was okay. Telemachus sat up with a sigh and petted the dog gently.

“Don’t worry boy, it's fine. . .I’m fine. . . my head just hurts cuz some of the suitors pulled a stupid prank on me last night and got me drunk. . .don’t tell mom, yeah?”

He buried his face in the dog’s fur with a sigh.

His mother had asked him about his opinions on the suitors. Did she want to remarry? Was his happiness holding her back? He didn't know, but he wanted his mom to be happy. What would happen if he wasn't here to get in the way? That's all he seemed to do anyways. Get in the way.

He stood up, hardly realising what he was doing until he had a bag filled with some extra clothes and a few personal belongings. He set Wolfy down on his bed gently, saddened by the thought of not taking it. He considered writing a note, but eventually decided not to. He didn't know how to tell his mother that he was running away; there was so much to say that he couldn’t explain easily. He looked at Argos and the dog looked back up at him in confusion.

“Stay here Argos. Protect mom, okay?”

The dog huffed sadly but lay down by Telemachus' bed obediently. Telemachus steeled himself and climbed out the window. His ankles smarted as he stumbled to the ground but he ignored it and started walking across the dark palace grounds, heading down a forest path, away from the light and noise in his halls. He didn't know where he was going just yet, and he didn't know how he would get there, but he knew he had to leave. Maybe his mother would finally feel like she could live for herself. . . ?

Maybe she could be happy again.

Without him.

Chapter Text

Melantho weaved through the men in the hall, her dark eyes searching through the crowd for two specific men. She found Antinous sulking in the corner, Amphinomus at his side practicing the motion of flicking a small knife about his fingers. Antinous looked up in reluctant acknowledgement as Amphinomus fumbled the knife again, nicking his finger with a hiss of pain.

“What do you want, Melantho? Your boyfriend’s over there,” Antinous said.

He gestured vaguely across the hall with a frown. She blushed slightly and scowled.

“He's not my-! Nevermind. Queen Penelope has requested you. She said it's urgent.”

“Me? Why would she want to see me-” he cleared his throat, gathering his confidence quickly. “I mean…of course! Right!”

He stood up, brushing his hands off on his tunic, and tucking his messy hair back from his face.

“It's not what you think Antinous–she also asked for Amphinomus,” Melantho added softly.

“Me?” Amphinomus said in disbelief.

“Him?!” Antinous asked incredulously.

Amphinomus scowled, “What's that mean? I have just as much a chance as you!”

“No, you really don't-” He shot back.

Melantho rolled her eyes and pulled the two away from each other before they started throwing hands.

“She's furious. Very, very angry. She's not interested in either of you guys, so get over yourselves and go to her quarters like she asked.”

Antinous and Amphinomus quickly disappeared down the hall. Melantho meant to follow after them but a hand slipped around her waist and pulled her back gently.

“Hey. . .” Eurymachus mumbled, kissing her neck.

“Mm, it's a little late, what are you still doing here?” Melantho replied softly, turning to look at the man.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“I’m still working, you know that.”

“Don’t play dumb girl, tell me what you told them,” Eurymachus replied, his tone growing slightly sharp.

Melantho smiled playfully, her fingers tracing his jawline.

“Who~?”

“Antinous and Amphinomus, you know very well who! What did you tell them?” he snapped.

Melantho frowned slightly but quickly brushed his harshness off and smiled again faintly.

“The queen wanted to speak to them.”

“Why?” he asked, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hand away from his face.

“I don’t know, she didn’t tell me-”

“WHY?” he demanded, his grip growing painful.

“Eurymachus, I really don’t know! Eurycleia came in and told her something and she got really upset, and then angry. I don’t know what's happened to make her this way; she only told me to get Antinous and Amphinomus, that's all I know…”

She yanked her wrist back, her smile fading.

“You could be more gentle,” she added, though he ignored her.

“Tell that brother of yours to bring me some more wine soon, will you?”

Melantho slowly nodded and wandered off reluctantly to find Melanthius. Eurymachus just went back to laughing with his friends. She found Melanthius pelting pebbles at a stray dog in the courtyard, trying to hit the poor thing from as far a distance as he could manage.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be working.”

Melanthius looked over at her with a grin that meant he’d been drinking a few extra cups from the wine he served.

“Lighten up Melantho! There’s nothing wrong with having some fun every once in a while. What’s up, you look grumpier than usual. . .”

He noticed the fading red on her wrist and his eyes narrowed.

“Eurymachus or some other jerk?”

“Eurymachus. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“Melanthius, not this again-”

“I. . .I don’t trust him. You shouldn’t even be with him at all; he’s a suitor to the queen! I thought you were one of Penelope’s favorite servants, so why do you keep going behind her back like this? You’re only hurting yourself.”

“He’s handsome, he’s rich, he’s powerful. . .” she protested.

“You’re a serving girl. He’ll never take it further than what you have now,” he said softly.

“And yet you cozy up to the suitors too, joking and hanging out with them all the time!” she shot back angrily.

“That’s different. At least I don’t have to work with that stupid pig-herder anymore; I get to serve food in the palace. This job’s way easier,” he shrugged. “You see sister, some of us are born at the top, and some of us have to climb. I’m just choosing the winning side. You do it too.”

She rolled her eyes, weary of this speech again.

“Ugh, enough of your stupid drunk philosophy; Eurymachus wants more wine. Don’t get your face bashed in when you inevitably choose the wrong person to throw your lot in with.”

He rolled his eyes and walked past her into the hall.

“I could say the same to you, Melantho. . . Be careful.”

— — — — —

Amphinomus raised his hand to knock but Antinous just pushed the door open. He stepped in with relative confidence, Amphinomus following behind him. The door slammed shut behind them and before Antinous could turn around he felt the cold edge of a knife at his throat.

“Where’s my son.”

Her voice was tight and dangerous, like the growl of a lion.

“Ah, Penelope, we meet again. . .” Antinous laughed nervously.

“That’s your majesty to you.”

“Right, of course. . .mind lowering the knife?”

Penelope lowered the blade from his throat and Antinous backed away to stand beside Amphinomus.

“Where is he?” She repeated.

“What are we talking about your majesty?” Amphinomus asked hesitantly.

“Queenie, we don’t know where your stupid kid is, we’re not in charge of him or something.”

She paced the room, tightening her grip on the knife in a way that made the two men slightly nervous.

“You are the only two suitors who know his secret; he has told me. Which means that, for some strange reason, my son trusts you two snakes, more than the others, at least. I’m still not convinced that you’re not somehow involved with his disappearance, but I’ll have to. . .trust. . .you two for now.”

She said the word trust slowly, like it pained or disgusted her somehow.

“Search the palace again, perhaps you know of hiding places that he uses that I am not aware of. Do not tell anyone who you are looking for, and do not mention that Telemachus is missing. I am going to ask Eumaios if he has seen Telemachus. You will meet me at the pig-herder’s hut if you do or do not find him. Is that understood?”

“You want us to help you look for your dumb son?” Antinous scoffed. “Why would we do that?”

Penelope smiled slightly in a way that made Amphinomus shiver.

“To prove you were not responsible for his disappearance. And if you don’t do as I say, I’ll kill you.”

Antinous looked over to Amphinomus with a nervous laugh.

“She’s kidding, right?”

Penelope flicked her knife in a quick throwing motion, whizzing an inch from Antinous and nicking the corner of his ear. Hot blood trickled down his neck and he stumbled back in surprise.

Amphinomus looked petrified. Penelope looked pleased and picked the knife up, tucking it back in her belt.

“Then we have an understanding. Go. Quickly.”

The two men scrambled out of the room as fast as they could and Penelope sank down on the bed after the door closed, running a hand through her hair with an exhausted sigh. She was worried sick about Telemachus; she hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon and the sun was already going down today. Eurycleia had seen him this morning, but when she went to check on him this evening, he was gone. He hadn't even shown up at dinner, from what the maid had told her. What if something had happened? Had it been one of the suitors? Was he hurt? Run away? Kidnapped?. . .Dead?

She carefully steered her anxious thoughts to strategizing. Though her heart ached for her child, she couldn’t show weakness in front of the suitors. If they all knew her son was gone they would just have another excuse to force her to choose one of them as her husband, something she would never do.

“Odysseus. . .Telemachus. . .Where are you?” She whispered dejectedly.

Penelope adjusted the ornate knife in its sheath at her waist. It had been a wedding gift from Odysseus–he really did know her well–but she hadn’t had any use for it in a long time. She wiped Antinous’ blood off of it carefully and hoped that no more blood would be spilled tonight.

— — — — —

The wooden chest was heavy; the inside padded with wool; rich cloth wrapped around an old bow. She pulled it out gently, finding the string beside it in the chest. She took a deep breath and set to work. She was not Odysseus, not nearly as strong as he had been, but she was just as clever as him. And she had seen him do it hundreds of times.

It seemed to take forever, but after a few attempts, the bow was strung and taut with its unreleased potential for death. She tucked the bow and some arrows into a quiver which she then hid beneath her cloak and slipped out into the night with. It had been a long time since she had gone hunting with only a knife and bow, her wits and instincts against the world, but her son and husband were not the only wolves in this family. She had teeth and she would not let anyone forget that she too could bite and kill.

— — — — —

Penelope knocked on the door impatiently, tapping her foot on the dirt. After a few minutes without response she wandered around back, finding Eumaios trying to herd the last of his troublesome pigs into their pen. One of his dogs ran at her, barking aggressively, and she reached for her knife. Eumaios whistled quickly and the dog reluctantly backed off.

“Ah, your majesty, what brings you. . .here?” he stammered awkwardly, ambling over and bowing slightly.

“My son, I cannot find him. I wondered if he'd come by here at some point.”

Eumaios’ brow furrowed and he shook his head vaguely as he wiped dirt off his hand onto his tunic. He led the queen inside and threw a couple more logs onto the dying embers of his fire.

“You hungry?” he mumbled.

“I do not think I could eat right now. . .”

He gave her a cup of water and set out a few furs near the fire for her to sit on.

“I haven’t seen–what was it, Telemachus?--around here, he didn’t come to me, certainly. He’s not at home or in town?”

She sipped the water a little, letting it soothe her throat and mind as she studied the pig-herder carefully, taking in his short stature and sun-darkened skin. His messy dark hair was going grey in a few places, and Penelope realized how little she had seen of him in recent years. He used to be one of Odysseus’ closest friends.

“I cannot find him anywhere. I sent Antinous and Amphinomus to search the palace and town thoroughly, but I suspect he would have gone to the woods. He always was a rather wild child–quite literally, it's a long story.”

She stood and set the bow and quiver in the shadows near the doorway.

“I do not know if he has run away, been kidnapped, or. . .worse. But I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon, and no-one knows where he is.”

A few moments passed between them and Eumaios made himself busy by packing his dinner into a small bag (seriously, he couldn't even get a second to eat in peace with all the drama of this royal family) and getting his walking stick, preparing to go to search the forests for the missing prince.

Antinous finally arrived at the hut, Amphinomus struggling up the hill behind him. Eumaios heard high pitch screeching and his dogs’ barking from inside the hut and quickly rushed out to yell at his hounds. Penelope laughed softly and sat back down by the fire. Eumaios’ dogs really didn’t like anyone.

“No sign of the brat, queenie,” Antinous mumbled as he came into the hut finally, a few clawmarks on his legs from the hounds.

He thumped down on the furs next to Penelope, not making eye contact, still quite embarrassed by the way he had shrieked and been scratched by a stupid pig-herder’s dogs. Amphinomus seemed to have been hauled off by Eumaios to help him search the woods, leaving just Antinous and Penelope in the house. Penelope sipped her water calmly, not losing her composure. Antinous fidgeted impatiently and finally got up to look around the house.

“Hey pig-dude, you got any food around here?” he yelled.

Eumaios must have been out of earshot by now because no response came. He shrugged and started rooting through the hut with little care for the man’s things. Penelope just sipped her drink calmly.

“You just raid everyone’s kitchens? A royal household I could understand, but a lowly shepherd? That’s just rather sad,” Penelope commented coolly.

“Shut up. . .” he hissed grumpily and sat back down next to her with a pear he had managed to find.

“You can’t even earn your own food? You have to steal it?”

“Do you take pleasure in insulting me?!”

“A little.”

“Gods, you are an insufferable, disobedient, awful woman and-”

She gave him a look and her hand reached for her knife. He considered correcting his course of conversation but instead doubled down on his point.

“Why do you not like me? Or any of us?! I’m wealthy, I’m young, I could be anything you wanted, and yet you continue pushing me away!” he yelled, standing up. “I could make you happy, I could make you powerful, I could give you a hundred more sons than that idiot you have now!”

“You could never make me happy, Antinous.”

“Why not!? I could give you love, I could give you pleasure, I could give you security. Isn't that what you're waiting for?!”

“I am waiting for my husband. And for you to shut up.”

He growled in irritation and yanked the now-empty cup from her hands, throwing at the wall where it shattered and fell to the ground. She barely flinched, making him more annoyed.

“You could still earn my affections. Maybe. But you’ll beg to have me eventually, I know you will. You can't help it.”

He stopped by the door, noticing the bow, leaned against the wall in the shadows.

“Whose is that?” He snapped.

“Not yours. It will never be yours,” Penelope whispered.

He stormed out of the hut, leaving an unfazed Penelope. The audacity of Antinous disgusted her, but she took careful note of his true character: greedy, angry, and dangerous. Nothing like what he seemed to show Telemachus .

— — — — —

Eumaios’ dogs ran ahead on the path, chasing after small rodents in the underbrush. Amphinomus panted and lagged behind.

“I don’t think he’s here, Eumaios. . .can we go back now. . .?” he whined.

“We’ve barely looked!” he chuckled.

Amphinomus looked back at the pig-herder’s house on the hill and saw Antinous storming out.

“Um, Eumaios?”

“Yeah, I saw. . .Fine, Amphi, you can go back now. Keep them from killing each other.”

“You mean protect the Queen from Antinous?”

“No, keep Penelope from killing him.”

Amphinomus blinked in surprise and nodded in agreement after a moment, quickly running back. Eumaios sighed and headed down an old path into the forest alone.

— — — — —

Telemachus sat beneath a large tree, curled up and shivering in the cold night air. He sniffled and wiped his tears on his sleeve, pulling his hat off and shoving it into his bag. He didn't care who saw his ears now. . . perhaps he could just become a wild thing out here instead of running away completely. Could he become a wild beast and lose all his human connections? A monster some hero would eventually slay? He would miss his mom and Argos. He had always wanted to be the hero, but it seemed fate disagreed with him. He looked up at the dark night sky, tracing the paths of constellations with his outstretched fingers. This was the same tree where everything had started, where he had fallen asleep all those years ago and woken up different. He heard an owl hoot and startled, curling up tighter against the tree.

He saw a light in the distance, a small lamp bobbing amongst the dark of the forest. He pressed himself against the tangled roots of the tree as hard as he could, holding his breath as he heard dogs barking and running through the bushes. Two hounds leapt out of the darkness, barking and growling at him. His heart raced as he bared his own teeth on instinct. To his surprise the dogs whimpered at his pathetic display of ferocity and backed off.

Eumaios pushed through the tangled branches and leaves, surprised to see his dogs coming back to cower by his heels. He leaned against the tree, standing above the scrawny prince.

“Oh, I see I've found a little runaway puppy. . .” he said, gently easing himself down next to Telemachus.

Telemachus sniffled and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m a wolf. . .” he mumbled.

“Ah, a wolf, of course,” he corrected. “Did my dogs scare you? They’re not that mean, they just don’t like strangers.”

He patted his leg and the two dogs trotted over and lay down beside Eumaios and Telemachus, their tails wagging hesitantly.

“You were crying,” Eumaios said softly.

“So?” Telemachus snapped weakly.

“It’s alright, you can if you want to. Do you want to talk about it though? What are you doing all the way out here anyways? Your mother was worried sick.”

“I. . .I ran away. I thought my mom wanted to get married, and that she couldn’t do that because I was in the way, and I thought she was angry at me for that, and I’m a pathetic idiot that lets people get me drunk and screw up my life-”

“She’s not mad at you for that little prince. . . She loves you dearly, and I'm sure she doesn’t want to marry one of those lazy jerks. She loved your father more than anything, and love like that doesn’t just disappear. She’s just worried about you now and wants you to be safe.”

Telemachus cried and hugged Eumaios suddenly, curling up against him like the two dogs were, wetting the man’s cloak with his tears. Eumaios froze and slowly wrapped his arm around the boy after a moment of confused panic.

“Come on, little puppy, let’s go home. . .”

He helped the prince up and led him back through the forest to where Penelope was waiting with open arms for her son.

Chapter Text

Taking a short break from our regularly scheduled Little Wolf today!

I've been really busy lately, so I don't want to get to behind on writing this

But I also published an angsty epic oneshot called "Just a Man (struggling with moral dilemmas of course)" so I guess thats our replacement for today's chapter? Go read it if you like; feel pain and have fun hehehe

Also seriously y'all! I need doggo names! Before I can publish the next chapter I need help naming those puppers (yes, I can do it myself, but if y'all have suggestions, I'm lazy pfft)

Thank you again so much for reading, commenting, and giving kudos. I love writing this, and I love that other people are enjoying it so much! love y'all sm and I should have chapter ten up next week :D

Chapter Text

Eurymachus was waiting in the shadows of the palace gateway.

Antinous and Amphinomus nodded their greeting and shuffled past him awkwardly without a word. Telemachus stood beside his mother, not looking directly at Eurymachus. Penelope glared straight at him. Eurymachus drained the last of the wine in his cup and tossed it away carelessly. Telemachus flinched slightly as the cup landed with a dull clatter on the tiles and a servant rushed to pick it up before melting back into the shadowy palace.

“It’s rather late for a queen to be outside, no?” he sneered.

“Yes, it is. Why are you still awake?” she replied calmly.

“Not important, really. . .Your son looks tired! Maybe he should come to the main hall; I can get him something to drink? He is much more fun that way, you know.”

Penelope's eyes narrowed slightly and she gently patted Telemachus’ back

“Go back to your room and get some sleep, yeah?”

Telemachus hesitated to leave his mother but quickly slipped past Eurymachus into the house, running to his room once he was out of sight of the man. Penelope’s eyes darkened dangerously within a second. She stepped closer to Eurymachus, close enough to strike him if she wished.

“I know you made my son drunk last night,” she hissed.

“Oh come on, it was just harmless fun, and besides it was mostly Antinous’ idea!”

“I don’t care whose idea it was! You could have stopped it but you went along with it for laughs. If you ever attempt to harm my son again, you will suffer pain far worse than death.”

“Fine, your stupid brat’s off limits. What about you, huh? Those rules still apply with a defenseless woman? Surely you wouldn’t mind a drink with a handsome man in the middle of the night~”

He smirked and leaned forward slightly, tilting her chin up with a stroke of his fingers.

“Move your hand before I bite your fingers off,” she hissed.

She looked at him with nothing but cold rage in her eyes. He shifted and pulled back his hand slightly with a nervous clearing of his throat.

“Uh, right. . .I will. . .see you. . .later. . .?”

She rolled her eyes in disgust and walked past him into the house, pulling her cloak around her tighter and walking back to her room as quickly as she could. She shut the door behind her and locked it with shaky hands, barricading the entrance with a chair and collapsing against the wall with a few ragged breaths. Hot tears trickled down her cheeks unbidden and she tugged her cloak closer, burying her face in it.

She lived in this fear, she had for years, but she couldn’t show it; not to Telemachus and definitely not to the suitors. She couldn’t be weak for half a second lest they take advantage and. . . .she didn’t want to think about it but the thoughts came anyway. She wished Odysseus was here, that her life could go back to the few happy years they had had before the war. She had been strong all her life, for so long, and she just wanted to be weak for a moment, to be able to cry and let someone else hold her and protect her. Odysseus had been her strength for a while, and without him here she had to be entirely her own strength now–and she had to be Telemachus’ strength too.

It was simply too much sometimes, but she dealt with it the same way she always had and always would. She cried until her tears ran dry, then washed her face and got ready for bed as if nothing had happened.

— — — — —

Eumaios yawned and brushed his scraggly hair back, pouring himself a cup of cold water and getting some breakfast for himself. It had been a few weeks since the latest royal family-related fiasco and he was glad to return to his normal routine once more.

Except of course that couldn’t happen.

The moment he stepped outside he saw the prince of Ithaca, Telemachus, sitting at his gate, petting his (usually pretty aggressive?) hounds, Xander and Orion. Telemachus looked up with a grin and waved.

Nope, nope, nope.

Eumaios stepped back inside and slammed the door shut, trying to figure out why in the world the prince was sitting outside his house so cheerfully this morning. A few moments later a soft knock came on the other side of the door.

Damit, the prince was here and wasn’t planning on leaving. And he was very persistent.

Eumaios pressed himself against the door. Maybe if he didn’t move or make any sound the prince would go away eventually. . .

“Hello?” Telemachus asked, sounding a little confused. “Is anyone home? I, um, saw you, so-”

“No one’s home!” Eumaios responded and mentally smacked himself for the stupid response.

Telemachus giggled from the other side of the door and Eumaios couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto his face at the sound.

“Then. . .can I hang out with no one? I’m bored,” the prince teased.

Eumaios sighed and opened the door. Telemachus grinned up at him happily.

“Fine. You can stay. For now. And only if you help out.”

Eumaios walked past him and whistled for his dogs who quickly scampered over to walk at his heels. The pig-herder would have asked Telemachus what he was doing here but the boy beat him to it and gladly volunteered the information with no prompting. Apparently ten seconds of silence was so unbearable to the prince that he had to fill it with his confusing explanations.

“The suitors were getting annoying, and I couldn’t find anything to do, and Argos was taking a nap and didn’t want to play, and it looks like it's going to rain so mother wouldn’t let me go to the beach-”

“You were bored,” he interrupted as he opened the gate to one of the livestock pens.

“Very much so,” he agreed.

“You talk too much,” Eumaios grumbled.

“You talk too little,” he shot back with a slight smile.

Eumaios nodded and pointed at some large buckets at the back of the house.

“Go get those for me.”

Telemachus quickly scrambled off and Eumaios kind of enjoyed the look of disgust the prince attempted to hide as he picked the buckets up and dragged them over. It had been a while since he had consistent help around here–Melanthius was usually slacking off and hanging out with the suitors nowadays–and Telemachus, while inexperienced and not particularly strong, he was eager to help.

“What is in these?” Telemachus nearly gagged as he handed the buckets to Eumaios.

“Slop for the pigs, mostly kitchen scraps and stuff.”

“That. . .That explains it.”

Eumaios chuckled and emptied the buckets into a trough for the pigs.

“Pigs are very loud. . .” Telemachus commented.

“Yes. . .I suppose they are. . .I guess I’m used to them squealing and oinking all the time,” he replied softly.

“But then again, I suppose lots of things are loud. Suitors, for example.”

Eumaios laughed loudly, startling Telemachus, who looked very confused and nervous.

“Sorry, sorry, no. . .you’re right though. . .But the main difference between pigs and those suitors, is that I actually like pigs!”

Telemachus laughed too, a little and more quietly and hesitantly than Eumaios’ hearty wheezing.

“Ha. . . Alright, come on, there’s other work to be done around here that you can help me with. Let’s go, let’s go!”

Eumaios and Telemachus spent the morning shoveling hay and manure and repairing fences and broken gates. Telemachus enjoyed the company of the older man (even though he was somewhat helpless when it came to physical work), and despite himself, Eumaios found that he was reluctantly enjoying the boy's company.

The sun was high overhead when Eumaios sat down under a tree to rest for a while. Telemachus collapsed next to him, his tunic stained with dirt and grass stains.

“How do you do this all day, every day. . .” he whined and rolled onto his back, looking up at the cloudy sky.

“Uh. . .I dunno. Been doing it for a long time. You certainly haven’t though, have you even worked a day in your life?” Eumaios chuckled.

He took a few sips from a waterskin but gave it to Telemachus when he noticed the boy panting. The prince gulped down half of it quickly and handed it back.

“I’ve trained since I was little, and Antinous is giving me lessons in hand-to-hand stuff now!”

“Pretty sure those lessons are just him bashing your nose in, right? Yeah, that’s what I thought. And I don’t mean learning how to fight–I’m sure you’re quite decent with a spear or a sword–but I mean other kinds of work.”

“No, not physical stuff, I mostly learned how to do paperwork and about trade and politics. Boring as hell.”

Eumaios chuckled, “Don’t worry, you’ll pick it up easily enough. We’ll get some muscles on those on those scrawny arms of yours eventually, don’t worry. ”

Telemachus smiled and closed his eyes, feeling the wind blow around him like an embrace, listening to the trees and grass and distant flocks grazing on the hillside.

“It’s beautiful up here, Eumaios. Peaceful.”

“I suppose it is. You know. . .I wouldn’t mind having extra help around here. You’re welcome to come by whenever you like, though I will give you chores: be warned.”

Eumaios leaned back on the grass with a laugh and looked at Telemachus who was awkwardly trying to keep his hat on in the wind.

“You know you don’t have to wear the hat around me, right? I found out that secret the moment I met you. No one else comes up here often, and you’ll overheat in that thing. If you’re gonna wear a hat, at least get one that shades your eyes and face from the sun a bit.”

Telemachus pulled his pileus off slowly and gently unpinned his ears, wrapping the pins in the hat and setting them aside. Eumaios ruffled his hair and Telemachus made an undignified squeak of protest.

Clouds eventually rolled in and it looked like it would rain in the evening, so Telemachus and Eumaios spent the afternoon storing things away where they wouldn’t get soaked and getting the animals back into their pens and shelters.

“Does your tail ever get burrs and stuff in it?” Eumaios asked absent-mindedly as he picked up a squealing piglet and set it back in the pen next to its mother.

“Not often. I stay indoors too much, I guess, and it's mostly under my tunic.”

Telemachus lunged for a stubborn pig that kept trying to escape, but the pig was faster and moved just past his reaching hands. He tripped into a muddy patch, getting his arms and tunic very dirty. He picked a piece of straw from his hair with a sigh. Eumaios smiled slightly but didn’t laugh, just kept working. Antinous would have laughed, pointed out his mistakes and made him feel stupid, but Eumaios was not like him at all. . .

“Xander gets burrs in his tail a lot. (He's the brown one over there).”

He gestured to one of his dogs who was busily sniffing at the fence.

“Don’t know how he does it. I swear he must roll around in meadows when I'm not looking. Gets those bitey-bugs a lot too.”

Eumaios herded the pig back towards Telemachus, gesturing instructions to him.

“There, grab the back leg like that. . .yeah. Put your other hand underneath the stomach and. . .there you go, good job.”

Telemachus held the wiggling pig with a laugh, setting it safely in its pen. He felt a few raindrops and quickly finished up and ran inside the house behind Eumaios just as rain began to soak his clothes. He stood awkwardly in the doorway with the two wet dogs as Eumaios started a fire and got a few things from his bedroom.

“Get over here, you silly wolf boy. The dogs can come too,” Eumaios said with a chuckle and shook his head.

Eumios leaned down to pet the wet dogs affectionately, speaking in a sing-song voice and squishing their faces in his hands.

“Yeah, such good puppiesssss, Xander and Orion, the best doggiess~”

Telemachus walked over, dripping water across the floor and trailing muddy footprints. The dogs happily ran over to the warmth of the fire, tongues lolling and tails wagging. Eumaios warmed a basin of water over the fire and helped the prince clean the mud and dirt and filth from himself. Telemachus soon sat in front of the fire, much more tidy, and in a clean but too-big tunic that the pig-herder had lent him.

The two ate a small dinner in relative silence, waiting for the rain to let up so Telemachus could get home. Eumaios sat behind him as they waited, attempting to de-tangle the boy’s damp hair with a comb until the prince finally fell asleep, curled up near the hearth beside Xander and Orion. Eumaios looked at Telemachus’ ears, considering what a strange boy he was. But hey, he liked his dogs, so he could like this little wolf too. He smiled fondly and draped his cloak over Telemachus. If the queen worried her son was gone again, she would find him right here, safe and sound.

— — — — —

The rain slowly turned into a cold drizzle and Eumaios shook Telemachus awake gently.

“Hey, kid, the rain’s let up. You should probably get home before it starts up again.”

Telemachus nodded sleepily and got up with a yawn. He gave the man a giant hug, still half asleep, and while Eumaios didn’t love the hug, he didn’t push the sleepy boy away.

“Alright, alright, off you get, silly dog. . .” Eumaios chuckled. “Get home before your mom freaks out and you get all wet again.”

“Wolf, not dog,” Telemachus corrected.

“Whatever, go home. And here. . .a better hat for when you come around here.”

Eumaios dropped his wide brimmed petasos on Telemachus’ head and Telemachus grinned. The man expected him to come back again. And he had definitely seen that fond look the pig-herder had tried to hide from him.

Chapter Text

The night air was chilly against Theron's skin, and a slight breeze blew between the alleys and passages of the villa, chasing the heat of the day away. His heart felt like it was in his throat, beating like an angry drum. An old woman walked through the courtyard and he quickly ducked behind a large potted tree in the courtyard, holding his makeshift satchel close, hardly daring to breathe. Once she disappeared, he ran.

His bare feet pounded against the tile floor until the ground beneath him was only earth and grass and the house was a distant blur of light on the hill. His vision blurred and cold night air tore at his throat and made his chest ache. His legs trembling from exhaustion, he collapsed into the shelter of some large bushes and fell into desperate sleep as dawn approached.

— — — — —

He walked quickly through the crowd of people on the dock, keeping his head down and eyes on the lookout.

Where was this ship heading? Ithaca? Where was that? It was ‘a nearby island’ apparently (he overheard this from a man nearby asking for payment from a passenger.)

He didn't care where this ship was headed. Anywhere but here. He couldn't pay for the boat ride so he didn’t even bother trying to overhear the part about fares, but he was gonna get on this boat regardless of if he could pay or not, so. . .

He had to get out of this place, no matter the possible danger of stowing away on a ship bound for unknown shores.

— — — — —

After a day of holding back vomit, being terribly seasick, and hiding in a pile of netting in the cargo hold, the ship finally docked and Theron snuck off and started running again. He walked for hours, days; sleeping when he could, walking at night. When his legs could finally carry him no farther he found himself in a fig orchard as the sun came up. The figs on the trees weren’t quite ripe yet but he grabbed a few anyway, shoving some in his mouth and a few more in his bag. The fruit was hard to eat and a little bitter, but it gave him enough energy to reach a small stream in the orchard where he fell to his knees and drank until his hunger pains faded a little.

There was a small tool shed in the orchard, old and shabby, probably used to store materials for harvesting the trees. It was unlocked and Theron shoved the door open, curling up in the corner on some moth-eaten mats and staring at the ceiling. He tried to ignore the ache of emptiness in his gut, the pain in his bloody and sore feet, and the sting he could still feel on his back and shoulders. It had been days since. . .that. . .why did it still hurt so bad?

What would most people do in his position?

Not yell at their master in the first place, for one.

Not get beaten.

Not try to run away, get caught, and get beaten again.

Not choose to steal their master’s daughter’s jewelry and run away for the second time.

Not stow away on a boat to a strange island, not sleep in a random shed–gods was every decision he made terrible?!

He sighed and rolled onto his stomach so his raw back wouldn’t hurt as much. He had been treated like a pesky dog and a punching bag his whole life. But not anymore. He wouldn’t go back there, ever. He couldn't, they'd probably kill him anyways, or at least beat him within an inch of his life. He had nothing to lose but painful memories.

I am going to figure this out, he told himself. I am going to get far enough away, and sell the jewelry he’d stolen, and get some money, then maybe find some work as a builder or a farmer or something? He wasn’t going to end his journey here, he couldn’t.

“Gods, help me, I can’t go back. . .” he sobbed softly.

‘That’s how they pray and ask for help or blessings. But the gods don’t help people like us, Theron. The gods are for people like Master, okay? Have you ever heard of the gods helping a slave? It doesn’t happen much, dear.’

That’s what his mother had told him once, when he had asked why their master’s daughter left gifts at the altar of a small shrine in the house. He didn’t understand why the gods would see a difference between a free man and a slave. Weren’t they supposed to be better than mortals? Perhaps if he could call them by name they might hear him easier and pay attention to his pleas. . .But what names did he even know? He hadn’t paid much attention to the gods for years. He knew the master’s daughter prayed to Artemis and Athena, and his master prayed to Zeus, but that’s about all he could recall.

Artemis was the goddess of women, wild animals, and the hunt. He was kind of being hunted, and he wasn’t a girl, so he doubted Artemis would care much about his plight.

Zeus was the enforcer of justice, thunder-bringer, king of the gods. He didn’t think a king would take his side, and nothing was just in this world for people like him.

Athena was the goddess of wisdom and strategy and. . .he didn’t remember much else about her actually, but she seemed like his best option. He could use some wisdom after all the stupid choices in his life.

“Athena!” he cried, “If you’re out there somewhere. . .help. . .I guess. . .?I don’t know how to do this, I don’t have anything to give you, but please help me out here, let me find somewhere safe, don’t let me get dragged back to that hell I was in. . .give me strength and wisdom and some way out of this mess I made. . .”

Nothing happened.

He buried his face in the mat, disappointed at the silence that filled the shed. So much for the gods, he must be on his own. He began to feel a little more peaceful at least. . .he wasn’t sure if that was just his anxiety giving way to hopelessness though. Exhaustion overtook him and he soon fell into a deep, deep, sleep.

— — — — —

“Telemachus! Bring them over here! We need to be back before nightfall!” Eumaios shouted.

Telemachus nodded and set to work, herding the large group of bleating goats over to Eumaios. He had gotten pretty good at farm work over the past few months of working with Eumaios, and he was glad to have something to do and someone to do it with. Argos lagged behind, sniffing at flowers, while his master whistled and shouted to move the stubborn herd. For particularly stubborn goats Telemachus just bared his teeth and growled at them and they usually fell back in line, much to Eumaios’ amusement. Sometimes he wondered if the pig-herder was just using him as a glorified sheep dog. . .

A young goat stood in front of him defiantly. Telemachus halted, confused by the goat’s blatant refusal to move. He sighed, approaching it carefully as it backed up, getting closer to the woods.

“C'mere little guy. . . it's okay. . .just come over here so we can go home, yeah?”

The goat was almost within his reach when an owl flew overhead and hooted loudly. The goat bolted into the woods and Telemachus cursed, running after it and whistling for Argos. Eumaios sighed and shook his head.

“That boy is something else, always running off somewhere. . .”

Telemachus stumbled through some bushes and tripped out into the fig orchard, picking brambles and leaves from his dirty tunic and tail. Argos trotted ahead of him through the orchard, tail wagging.

Now where did that stupid goat go?

He followed Argos through the empty orchard slowly as the sun slipped below the horizon. The dog suddenly perked up and ran off, barking. Telemachus perked up too, catching a strange scent, a presence that wasn't usually in this orchard. The owl hooted overhead again, startling him badly.

“STOP DOING THAT!” he yelled at the owl.

It just flew off with silent wings, glancing at him with wide, bright eyes. The bird’s look unnerved him and he hastened his footsteps.

“Argos? Where did you go, bud. . .?” He called nervously.

He found Argos sitting by a small storage shed in the grove. Telemachus walked closer, carefully keeping his footsteps quiet. His ears flicked back warily. Something, or someone, was here. . .someone he didn't know. . .

— — — — —

Theron stirred slowly, feeling something warm and furry nuzzling against him. That something licked his face and his eyes shot open in surprise. He screeched, scrambling backwards until his back smacked up against the wall. He panted, pressing himself against the wall and trying not to move. Argos sat in front of him, tail wagging and panting contentedly. The door creaked open behind the dog and Telemachus peeked in.

“Argos, what did you run off for-”

Telemachus froze, staring at Theron.

Theron was breathing very hard and looked absolutely terrified of both of them. Telemachus was just very confused.

“Uhh…there's a boy in our shed!” Telemachus noted with a hesitant friendly smile.

“Get your dog!” Theron squealed.

“Argos is friendly, he was just curious. He doesn’t really bite, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, I promise.”

“GET HIM AWAY FROM ME!”

Telemachus laughed softly and called the disappointed Argos back to his side.

Theron finally noticed Telemachus' twitching ears and tail. He froze and then suddenly dropped to his knees, trying not to shake too much. Was this boy even human?!

“What. . .what are you. . .?” he whispered, fearing he had upset a god or nymph.

“Uh. . .I don't totally know how to answer that- ohhh, the ears and stuff! Heh, don't worry, I'm just as human as you. Get up off the ground, idiot. . .”

Theron stumbled to his feet awkwardly.

“It just sort of happened one day, blessing or curse, I don't know, but yeah, I’m harmless, don't worry.”

Theron nodded slowly at Telemachus' hasty explanation.

“So. . .who are you and what are you doing here?” The prince asked.

“I could ask the same! What are you doing looking in this shed?” Theron shot back, immediately feeling embarrassed for such a stupid comeback.

Telemachus just laughed softly and scratched behind one of his ears.

“My name's Telemachus, I'm the. . .” Prince of Ithaca, he wanted to say, but stopped himself cautiously. “I help out one of the shepherds around here. I came looking for a straggling goat, but my dog picked up on your scent and got curious, leading me here.”

Theron was surprised by how readily Telemachus answered all his questions. Was he expected to reciprocate so liberally?

“My name's Theron.”

Telemachus nodded, expecting more. Theron didn’t want to say anything else.

“I fell asleep here. And I ate a few figs. Sorry, I was hungry.”

“They're not very ripe, you must have been pretty hungry to eat them.”

“Yes. . .I was. Am. I am hungry,” he admitted.

Telemachus rustled through his bag and pulled out some leftover bread and cheese from his lunch. He quickly offered them to Theron, who stared at the food warily for half a second before digging in. Telemachus took a moment to look at the other boy properly.

Theron had short curly dark hair and sun-darkened olive skin from being outside so much. His clothes were ragged and dirty and he had a satchel across his back. His feet were wrapped in strips of cloth, but they were clearly blistered and bloody from walking, and there was a nasty mark on his ankle that looked like a peculiar burn. A brand, Telemachus realized, like the ones he had seen on some cattle. It made him almost nauseous to think how much it must've hurt when this boy got it.

“You ran away from somewhere?” He guessed quietly.

Theron didn't respond for a few moments, finishing the food and readjusting his bag.

“I'll be gone tonight, don't worry about it. I won't cause you any trouble.”

“Wait- no, no that's not what I meant. . .I mean. . .you can stay here. . .I can bring you more food tomorrow. . .?”

Theron paused and looked up.

“You…what? You won't take me back? And you want me to stay here?”

“I can bring you some more food tomorrow, help you bandage your feet properly, bring you a blanket maybe? Anything you like. Then if you keep running, at least you'll be better prepared?” Telemachus suggested. “You can't leave tonight, you're exhausted and injured. I won't let you.” He huffed decisively.

Theron sat back down, the closest to an agreement that he was going to give the other boy. Telemachus smiled and then jumped as he heard Eumaios' voice from outside.

“I'll be back tomorrow! Don't leave, okay?”

He quickly dragged Argos with him out of the shed, waved a hasty goodbye to Theron and raced back through the dark orchard, Argos bounding along beside him. He saw the runaway goat (luck was finally on his side!) and grabbed it in his arms before it had a chance to process the prince's approach. He was soon stumbling out through some bushes and running straight into Eumaios.

“What took you so long, boy?” Eumaios asked, looking the panting Telemachus up and down.

Telemachus panicked for a second and looked down at the loudly bleating goat in his arms. He held it up.

“I found a runaway!”

He grinned and Eumaios rolled his eyes and walked back with him to the rest of the herd in their pen.

“Silly kid…”

Telemachus wasn't sure if he was talking about the goat or him.

Chapter Text

Early morning sunlight glinted through the slats in the boards, falling over Theron's face and body like a tiger’s stripes, like the bloody lines of the scars on his back. Telemachus let him sleep for a moment more before shaking him awake, startling him terribly. Telemachus laughed.

“Calm down, it’s just me. Come on, let's get you cleaned up! I brought an extra tunic for you if you want.”

Theron soon sat on the river bank in the new clothes as Telemachus gently washed his feet for him. He stayed still, confused and quiet, as the other boy laughed and carefully cleaned his scrapes, talking to him about pleasant nothings. He hadn’t known if he could trust this boy, but what kind of person would clean your feet, bring you food, and then just drag you back to your old master? It seemed he would have to trust Telemachus, at least for now.

He remembered his mother cleaning his scrapes when he was little (much like Telemachus was doing now), wiping the blood from the marks on his arms and back and never asking who he had gotten them from. He remembered her gentle hands cleaning dishes and carrying heavy baskets of laundry through the house. He remembered her telling him stories as she cleaned floors, and the way she laughed when he learned how to slide through the halls, slippery with soap and water.

“Theron?”

Telemachus had strangely nice clothes for a shepherd boy, he thought. He had dark hair and dark eyes, and those strange, strange ears. . .

“Theron!”

He still remembered his mother's face a little bit, how her curly dark hair was always neatly braided back with a pink ribbon. . He remembered the way she would get all quiet whenever certain people were around. He remembered her pale face as she held his hand for the last time, and remembered seeing the dead infant that took his mother away from him. He remembered hating that dead baby, hating damn near everything in his life for a while. . .

“Theron!!!”

Theron jumped and accidentally splashed Telemachus. Telemachus laughed and flicked water back at him playfully.

“You looked like you zoned out for a moment, are you good?” he asked gently, tracing his hand over the brand on Theron's ankle briefly.

Theron flinched back from the touch and got up, “Yeah, yeah I'm fine.”

He pulled his legs back onto the bank and dried his feet on his tunic clumsily.

“Did you bring food?” Theron asked.

“Oh yeah! I nearly forgot!”

Telemachus waded onto the bank, tail wagging happily, and grabbed a bag he had brought with him. He pulled out a piece of bread and some dried fish wrapped in a cloth, setting it on the ground between them. Theron quickly grabbed the bread and shoved it in his mouth. Once his hunger had been satisfied a bit he slowed down and ate some fish too.

“You like fish?” Telemachus asked.

“I don't get to eat it much. This food is. . .really good though. . .” he mumbled between bites.

“I don't like fish much. See, when I was twelve I got visited by this strange ocean dude and he gave me some fish and-”

“You sure that wasn't just a weird dream, dude?” Theron said quickly.

Telemachus shrugged with a soft smile.

“Either way, I never liked fish much.”

“You are a strange person,” Theron chuckled

“And you aren't?” Telemachus shot back.

The two boys sat in peaceful silence for a while on the river bank as the sun rose higher in the sky and warmed their faces and clothes. Telemachus finally got up and grabbed his bag.

“I gotta go to school, I'll be back in the afternoon if I can. I'll bring more food too!”

“School?” Theron asked curiously.

As far as he knew, only people like his master's family had much of an education. Wasn't Telemachus just a shepherd boy? Did people like him go to school?

Telemachus noted the confusion on Theron’s face and quickly clarified, “Well, it's not really school, but I have to go home and learn things, and work on my studies and stuff. . .I’ll be back later!”

So the boy probably had some makeshift class from an older man in town or an educated slave or something, that wasn't unheard of. . .

“Alright, have fun learning stuff. I'll be here. . .”

Telemachus waved goodbye and dashed off through the woods again, strangely thrilled at the thought of having his own secret friend waiting for him in the orchards when he was done with school.

— — — — —

Telemachus came back that afternoon like he had promised and sat with Theron under the fig trees. He brought food for Theron again which the boy gladly ate as Telemachus talked to him.

“Do you know how to read at all?” Telemachus asked randomly.

Theron shook his head and shoved a piece of oh-so delicious fruit in his mouth. Telemachus nodded and continued talking.

“I gotta read a lot, it gets boring after a while, but sometimes I get to read interesting stuff like stories. Most of the time it's like trade and business stuff though.”

Theron paused chewing for a moment, “You work for a scribe or a merchant or something? I thought you said you were a shepherd.”

Telemachus looked down at the dirt, tracing circles in it with a stick.

“Uh. . .part-time job? But I like helping out with the flocks more than writing and math. It’s nice being up here instead of in town.”

Theron was a little suspicious about the boy’s circumstances, but he didn’t ask more about the boy’s work.

“Do you want to learn how to read?” Telemachus asked after a few minutes.

Theron looked over at Telemachus in surprise.

“What?”

“Do you want to learn? I could try and teach you, maybe?”

After some thought, Theron nodded. Telemachus grinned and found a dusty patch on the ground which he cleared of leaves and twigs. He drew a symbol in the dirt with his stick and traced the shape in the air.

“This one makes the ‘th’ sound.”

Telemachus drew another symbol next to the other in the dirt.

“And this one is the ‘eh’ sound. . .”

Theron stared as Telemachus slowly traced his name in the dirt: TH-E-R-O-N.

“The. . .r. . .on. . .” Theron smiled slightly as he sounded out the letters.

Telemachus beamed.

“You learn really fast, see?”

“Yeah.”

Theron stared at the letters for a while. He was smart; he could have become a scholar, or gotten a decent job if he had the right education. . .but that had never really been an option for him before. If he had been born as anyone else, would he have had a good life? It was stupid to ponder the what-ifs, wasn’t it.

“. . .I . . .don’t really like my name. . .” Theron admitted softly.

“Do you have one you’d prefer then?” Telemachus said without a second’s hesitation.

Theron shrugged, “I never really thought about it.”

“Zeno?” Telemachus suggested, erasing Theron’s name in the dirt and writing a new one.

“Nah.”

Telemachus crossed it out and wrote another, “Charis?”

“Not really my vibe, don’t you think?”

He scribbled the name out again and tried again, “Pavlos?”

“Seriously?”

“Lykos?” Telemachus suggested, tail wagging teasingly.

Theron shoved him slightly and laughed.

“Erastus.”

Telemachus finally wrote in the dirt. Theron smiled slightly.

“What’s that one mean again?” he asked quietly.

“Beloved.”

“Feels ironic,” Theron said bitterly.

Telemachus sighed and leaned back against a fig tree, thinking deeply for half a second.

“Y’know, I ran away once (and frightened my mother badly), but I met this shepherd man and now I get to hang out with him all the time. So maybe good things can come out of foolish choices? You might not have been loved much wherever you were before, but hopefully in whatever happens next, you will find many people who love you and want to help you. You have me already!”

Theron chuckled, “You: love me?”

Telemachus blushed furiously and sat up, “Not like that, idiot!”

Theron laughed harder and Telemachus couldn’t help but succumb to snickers too eventually. This wolf-boy was so strange, and silly, and kind. . .Theron laughed until he was out of breath and his gut ached. He hadn’t felt this in a long time.

“Alright. Erastus it is.”

Telemachus stood and did a mock bow, “Excellent to meet you, your majesty Erastus~”

Theron laughed again and returned the fake bow with an air of dignity he could only assume he had stolen from some rich man’s daughter. He remembered his master’s daughter–The jewelry in his bag weighed heavy on his mind for a moment, and he decided that eventually he would sneak into town, sell it, and be on his way. But not today. . .not just yet. . .not when he could still be with a friend a little more. . .

— — — — —

A week or so had passed by now and the two boys talked almost every single day. The sun was high overhead as Telemachus and Theron Erastus sat in the grass under an old tree by the town well. It was on the outskirts of Ithaca, and it wasn’t very busy during the middle of the day. Telemachus had his hat loosely tightly over his twitchy wolf ears and was playing with grass, pulling it up and tearing it into tiny pieces absent-mindedly, while Erastus sat on one of the tree branches, trying to pick the almost-ripe olives to throw at Telemachus. Argos lay beside Telemachus’s leg, peacefully napping (Erastus still got freaked out every time Argos approached him or barked, so the two kept their distance from each other.)

Theron paused his Telemachus-pelting as a girl walked over to the well with a slight limp, hauling two empty water jars. Telemachus glanced up briefly before going back to fiddling with grass in his hands. Erastus noticed her and froze. She had curly dark hair loosely tied back with red ribbons, and she kept pushing her glasses up on her nose. She somehow looked like she smiled a lot, even though she was currently frowning in concentration and struggling to haul up the rope for the well.

He slipped and fell out of the tree.

Of course he did.

He hit the ground hard and marveled at the fact that he didn’t seem to have broken anything. His eyes went dark for a moment and his head reeled. He opened his eyes to see Telemachus and the girl standing over him looking concerned and a little amused.

“Is he in the habit of falling out of trees?” she teased and looked at Telemachus.

Telemachus shrugged and replied casually, “No, this is the first time I know of.”

Erastus stumbled to his feet quickly, blushing from embarrassment. Telemachus dusted him off and laughed with the girl, who then slowly walked away, back to the well, after ensuring that Erastus was not injured. Erastus’ eyes followed her desperately, noting the way the sun made her skin glitter (in a way he hadn’t appreciated on any other person before).

“You okay man?” Telemachus asked. “You hit the ground pretty hard. . .”

Telemachus looked at him closer.

“Wait. . .”

He looked back at the girl drawing water and the way she blushed and looked away from them.

“OH MY GODS, ERASTUS, YOU-”

He shut Telemachus up quickly, shoving his hand over the prince’s mouth and blushing furiously, hauling him as far away from the well as he could possibly get. He finally released Telemachus and they walked back towards the orchard, Telemachus teasing Erastus the whole way as Argos trotted happily behind them.

“You liked her!”

“Do you have to rub it in?”

“You were so cute!” he squealed and swatted Erastus in the arm playfully.

“I fell out of a tree in front of her!” he whined, face horribly red with embarrassment.

“She thought it was cute I'm sure. . .”

“It would never work out, Telemachus, I should just forget it. . .”

Telemachus stopped walking, jaw dropping.

“You are an idiot, you know. No logical thoughts in that brain of yours. Come onnnn! You like her! I’m sure she liked you! Don’t give it up so easily.”

“Who is she anyways? Do you know her?” he asked hopefully.

Telemachus thought for a moment.

“Her father was one of the soldiers that went off to fight in Troy and. . .didn’t come back. I do not know much. I think her name is Alexandra or something? I think her father was pretty close with mine, but my mother hasn’t told me much more than that.”

“Alexandra is a beautiful name. . .has she always had that limp?”

“Yes, I think so, one of her legs looked slightly crooked. Probably why she was drawing water in the middle of the day instead of in the morning. Maybe it takes her longer to get there? You’d have to ask her.”

“Maybe I will. . .”

— — — — —

His steps felt light and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He had finally sold the stolen jewelry and finally felt free of the guilty burden. Free of the ghosts of his past life. Now, with some money in his pocket, he could actually start to figure things out. He walked back towards the well and thanked the gods for his remarkably good timing. Just as he had planned, Alexandra was making her way back with the heavy water jars and Erastus quickly walked over, trying not to say anything incredibly stupid.

“Need any help?” he asked, gesturing to one of the water jars with a friendly smile.

She looked up at him in surprise and shrugged.

“I mean. . .that would make my work much easier. . .thanks.”

He beamed and picked up one of the water jars. It made him happier that she didn’t struggle as much with only one and could walk a little faster without both jars.

“I forgot how heavy water is! How strong are you?” he teased, making her blush.

“Yeah! It's just once a day. . .But it's a lot of work. . .”

She stopped for a moment to catch her breath.

“Can’t someone else in your family do it? I mean, you don’t seem like hauling water is your best skill, no offense,” Erastus asked gently.

“I prefer gardening that's for sure, and I really like flowers, but my mother is always busy with my baby brother, and I don't have any sisters, and I never really met my real dad, so nope, not really anyone else for the job unfortunately. My mom got remarried but the guy’s always on business trips and stuff, he’s a sailor or something. . .”

She shrugged and picked up the jar again as they walked through the narrow streets of Ithaca together.

“You have a baby brother? What’s he like?” Erastus asked, trying not to think about his own baby brother, the one that had only lived long enough to kill his mother.

“He’s really cute!” she laughed and it seemed to make Erastus’ jar lighter. “He doesn’t look much like me. More like my mom and my dad, I mean, not my dad, but my new dad- he has lighter hair, less curly than mine, and cute little freckles-! He’s adorable–is what I’m getting at–of course.”

She pushed her glasses up when they started to slip and Erastus smiled.

“So who do you look like then? If not like your brother?”

“My mom says I’m the spitting image of my dad, apparently we even have the glasses in common!”

She blushed and smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to meet him. Losing people is hard,” Erastus said softly.

They lapsed into silence for a while and soon found themselves at the entrance to the courtyard of a small house.

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” she said softly as he handed the other jar back to her.

“Can I ask your name? . . .I’d like to keep running into you if you'll let me.”

“Alexandra. And…your name?”

“Erastus.”

“Well, um. . .I should go before my mom sees you, heh. . .”

“Oh, right. . .right, yeah. . .”

They awkwardly parted ways and Erastus practically burst with happiness and anxiety once he was down the street. Did he have a chance with this girl? Maybe he could bring her flowers the next time he saw her. Would she like that?

A sudden disruption interrupted his thoughts of Alexandra. A few men were gathered around a shop, arguing loudly about something.

He recognized one of the voices. Panic coursed through his veins and he felt cold, hard fear paralyze him on the spot. He finally had the presence of mind to run down an alley, pressing himself against the wall. Could he run back to the orchard? To Telemachus? Would Alexandra hide him or help him if she knew who he really was?

His master was here, in Ithaca, and he had nowhere more to run. He had been a fool to think that he could outrun his ghosts, an idiot to think he could build a new life here, and now his nightmares had come back to haunt him.

He could try to run back to the orchard, grab his things, and keep running, but could he–

“Hey! You! Boy!”

Chapter Text

Antinous found Telemachus sorting through papers in what had become his office/study room as of late. Telemachus was sitting in a peculiar, and almost certainly uncomfortable position, with one leg on the desk and one partially beneath him, as he read through papers. Antinous leaned against the door, only bothering to knock once he was already inside the room. Telemachus glanced up.

“Yes? Oh, it's just you. What do you want? Cuz you can only stay if you know how to handle trade agreements- hey!”

Antinous had sauntered over and plucked the papers out of Telemachus’ hands and set them back down on the table.

“Oh don’t scowl at me like that, we all know you’d rather be outside somewhere. You keep sneaking off to hang out with that ‘secret friend’ of yours. . .That shepherd guy right? Pig dude? He’s beneath you y’know, you shouldn’t have to even look at him, let alone-”

“He’s nicer than you are half the time, so don’t talk about him like that,” Telemachus snapped.

Antinous raised his eyebrows in surprise and a little bit of annoyance and leaned against the desk, pushing Telemachus’ leg off.

“Whatever, weirdo. I came to ask if you wanna go to the market place with me. I know some spots we could meet up with some hot girls if you’re bored-”

“Aren’t you trying to marry my mom?” he asked as he ordered the papers and stood up.

“Oh come on, you really gotta hold me to that all the time?” he chuckled slightly.

“My mother is loyal to a long-gone husband, and you can’t even be loyal to a queen that lives in literally the same place as you?”

He crossed his arms and tried to look disappointed, but Antinous just thought he looked like an angry puppy.

“Ugh fine, we can go buy clothes or snacks or something,” Antinous compromised and threw his hands up in vague surrender.

Telemachus sighed and gave in to the idea, grabbing a cloak and throwing it over his shoulders.

“Fine. A short trip. Then I get back to work and you get back to. . .whatever it is you do all day. What do you do all day?”

Antinous snickered and shrugged.

— — — — —

The marketplace was pretty busy as the evening approached, filled with barking dogs, loud salesmen, and kids running and playing in the streets. Telemachus found himself enjoying himself; after all he had been cooped up all day with paperwork and had been dying to get outside for a moment. He stopped by a store selling incense and fabric, examining the intricately woven patterns of the cloth.

He was thinking about buying a bracelet for his mother when he suddenly heard yelling from down the road. He couldn’t help but quickly walk closer. He saw two men yelling at each other; one was holding a kicking and screaming boy tightly by the arm. A few people had gathered around the argument, not entirely sure of the situation, but willing to throw in their own advice regardless. Telemachus froze as he saw the boy up close. . .Erastus?! Antinous chuckled softly from behind Telemachus as he saw the man shove Erastus to the ground roughly.

“Runaway slave, I guess. Stupid kid,” Antinous mumbled.

Suddenly everything clicked for Telemachus. He had run away from a loving mother but Erastus had run away from a sadistic master and a dead-end life. The brand on his ankle, the scars and bruises on his body, they were all. . .oh no. . . .He felt hot anger begin to cloud his judgement. How dare someone touch Erastus so cruelly?! How dare someone hurt his friend like that, like it was nothing?! He saw a panicked Alexandra at the edge of the crowd, being held inside her house’s gate by her mother. He saw Antinous’ vaguely amused look, like Erastus’ terror was something funny. He saw the man bring his foot down on the boy’s leg and his sensitive ears picked up the disgusting sounds of bone cracking. It was soon drowned out by the sound of Erastus gasping weakly and sobbing in pain as his master yanked him up roughly by the back of his dirty tunic.

Telemachus leapt forward without a second thought and tackled the man; his sharp teeth finding the man’s arm in the chaos and sinking deep holding tightly. Hot blood filled his mouth and he finally let go, shoving the man away and stumbling back. The man looked surprised and furious at the intervention.

“Who the hell do you think you are?! This is my slave! He ran away for the second time, I have the damn right to punish him however I like!”

“I’M THE PRINCE OF ITHACA AND I’M NOT GONNA LET YOU HURT A BOY THAT RAN AWAY BECAUSE OF YOUR CRUELTY!”

The man froze, looking stunned and angry, glancing down at the blood flowing from his arm.

“What the hell are you. . .?” he asked softly, his confusion giving way to slight fear.

He looked back up at the prince who stood there panting, blood dripping from his sharp teeth.

Antinous moved forward and yanked Telemachus behind him, stepping between the man and Telemachus hastily.

“Look, I'm sure we don’t need to start a fight over this. . .Telemachus, let the man punish his slave, and maybe he can get over the fact that YOU FRICKING BIT HIM!”

Telemachus didn’t flinch, glaring the man down furiously. Antinous sighed. This boy was gonna get his “wolf” secret spilled everywhere. Or he would get himself killed. Both were kind of bad for Antinous' chances with Penelope.

“I’m sure that we can figure something out here, we’re all civilized men-” Antinous suggested weakly, not used to being the one to keep the peace normally.

Telemachus growled angrily and reached into his pocket and pulled out some money, the kind of money that made greedy men's eyes light up.

“I’ll buy him from you.”

“Really?” the man asked quietly, still eyeing the money with a hungry glint in his eyes.

“Really?!” Antinous echoed in confusion.

“You say he ran away before and he must be punished for doing it again. What are you going to do? Kill him? Wouldn’t you rather at least get some money for him?”

The man debated it for a moment, then grabbed the money, shoved Erastus towards the prince, and walked away quickly to clean the bloody mess on his arm. Telemachus stayed silent and angry, even as the crowd dispersed.

“Antinous go back to the house, i’ll be back soon.”

“But-”

“Go!”

Antinous begrudgingly backed off and left Erastus and Telemachus alone. Telemachus hauled the sobbing boy to his feet and dragged him a few steps before Erastus collapsed with a gasp of pain.

“I. . .can’t walk. . .I’m sorry, I can't walk-” he stammered.

Telemachus looked down at Erastus and realised he had just been as unfeeling as the boy’s old master. His anger softened instantly as he saw Erastus’ twisted and bloody ankle. He knelt down and touched it gently, retracting his hand as the other boy hissed in pain. Telemachus bit his lip and thought for a moment, then grabbed Erastus’ hand and pulled his arm over his shoulder, half carrying him up the hill. It was a long way, but Telemachus soon figured out how to hold Erastus’ weight effectively and put the boy's weight on the good leg. It was dark by the time they made it to Eumaios’ hut, but the man answered the door quickly when Telemachus knocked. Telemachus dragged his friend inside and sat by his side as Eumaios tended to him.

Erastus soon lay sleeping by Eumaios’ fire, curled up in a blanket, his body clean and his ankle splinted and bandaged. Telemachus stood with Eumaios in the doorway, talking.

“So you found a runaway slave in the orchard. And brought him food. And taught him to read,” Eumaios said slowly, trying to wrap his head around Telemachus’ scattered explanations.

“Yes. . .?” Telemachus admitted, feeling a little guilty under the man’s scrutiny.

Eumaios chuckled, “Kid, this is why I like you. . .your father did stuff like this too when he was your age.”

“What? You’re not mad?”

“You should have told me probably, but other than that I don’t think you did anything wrong. Do y’know what you’ll do now?”

“I don't know. Go home and think it all over I suppose.”

“Not a bad plan. Get some rest Wolfy, I'll take care of Erastus for you. . .”

“Thanks, dad,” Telemachus mumbled.

“What was that?” Eumaios said with a smirk.

“Uh, nothing! Bye!”

Telemachus hugged him tightly and then ran back home for dinner.

— — — — —

Telemachus spent the next couple of weeks staying near Eumaios' house, checking in on Erastus whenever he could. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but he knew how he felt about the matter and had almost built up the courage to go talk to Erastus about it when Erastus himself showed up at the palace gate one day. Erastus’ ankle had healed up well enough for him to limp down the hill without help, and he had decided he needed to talk to Telemachus.

“Hey! Erastus! I was just about to come over to talk to y-” Telemachus was cut off by Erastus suddenly falling to his knees in front of him and crying at the prince's feet.

“I know I screwed up a lot in my life, but I promise, I'll be good for you, I'll work hard, I won't run away, I swear-”

Telemachus’ face went red and he quickly pulled the other boy up, glancing around the mostly empty courtyard and then back at Erastus.

“What in the Hades are you talking about? Calm down, you are not…. you are not my slave. You're my friend, my brother, first and foremost.”

“But you gave him money, you bought me. . .you don't-?” he sniffled and wiped his eyes.

Erastus looked so thoroughly confused that Telemachus just laughed and pulled out a small bag with more money in it than he had paid Erastus' old master.

“No, no, you're my friend, I could never. . .I'm never gonna be your master, I promise.”

He pressed the money into Erastus' hands and helped wipe the boy's messy tears off his face.

“Look, I want you to be your own person, to get to marry Alexandra, to make your own life. You belong to yourself now. You're free. And I'm the prince, so I can do that, right. . .?” he laughed awkwardly.

Erastus blinked in surprise, tears welling in his eyes. He hugged Telemachus tightly and Telemachus' tail wagged as he hugged him back just as tightly.

“Also, I'm sure Eumaios has work for you if you're interested. . .and I could probably arrange decent pay for you, if you like?”

Erastus grinned and stuffed the money in his pocket.

“Your Highness, you are the strangest boy I have ever met. . . I'll gladly take that job. Eumaios is really nice actually. . .”

“He makes a good friend, I agree,” Telemachus said with a smile. “Do you mind joining me for dinner?”

“Course. And you never thought to mention that you were the fricking prince of Ithaca? Wow, just wow,” Erastus shook his head with a teasing snicker.

“I didn't want to freak you out!” Telemachus protested.

Melanthius stood in the doorway to one of the guest rooms, looking at Telemachus and Erastus chatting happily in the courtyard. Jealousy rose up in his chest slowly like a poison. Who was this random runaway slave boy to suddenly be freed and given money by the prince himself?! When Melanthius and his sister had faithfully served the crown their whole lives with no reward? It wasn't fair. Eurymachus came out of his room, glancing at Melanthius and then at the prince.

“What are you staring at, man?” Eurymachus asked.

Melanthius scowled.

“Our generous and naïve princeling has decided a runaway slave deserves freedom, but loyal servants should go unrecognized,” he snapped.

Eurymachus smirked, seeing something he could take advantage of in Melanthius' words. He stepped closer, leaning one arm on the other man's shoulder, his words slithering out of his mouth like a snake.

“A runaway coward? A lazy dog? And the prince has decided that he should have freedom and money and all the good things in his life, and you. . .should have nothing? For all your faithful service to the crown?”

“It's not like I had a choice to serve the royal family-” Melanthius added.

“Ah, but it's always like that isn't it. . .unfair. Telemachus will make a poor ruler. . .If he ever becomes one, of course.”

“Unlikely with you guys around,” he muttered and turned his head away from the suitor.

“Exactly,” Eurymachus purred, tilting Melanthius' face back towards him with a smirk.

Melanthius pushed him away but the suitor’s words rattled around in his head all day. Perhaps Eurymachus or one of the suitors would be a more just ruler than Telemachus. . .

— — — — —

Erastus leaned against the well in the heat of the afternoon sun as Alexandra walked up.

“Hey,” he greeted her softly.

She looked up at him in surprise and blushed slightly as she set her water jugs down.

“H. . .Hey. . .I haven’t seen you around lately. . .I was worried. What happened with that guy that grabbed you and was yelling and stuff a few weeks back?”

Now it was Erastus’ turn to blush deeply.

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about it, I’m okay. Telemachus sorted it out for me. Now I’ve got a job with a shepherd, steady pay–and a bad ankle for another few weeks at least.”

She giggled and he helped her draw water from the well. They walked slowly back to her house, both of them limping slightly (which Erastus eventually commented on and they both laughed about). They reached the gate of her house and Erastus set his water jug down, leaning against the gate and plucking a flower from one of the scraggly plants in a clay pot. He handed it to her and she took it, tucking it into her hair and nudging her glasses up on her nose.

He didn’t know what else to say and began to feel awkward in the silence. Did she have to be so gorgeous all the time? He blushed and turned to go but Alexandra tugged him back by his sleeve gently.

“. . .Would you like to come in for dinner? You could finally meet my little brother and. . .my mom too. . .?” she suggested hopefully

“I don't know, I mean, I probably have to-”

“Please. I want you to.”

Erastus smiled and grabbed her hand in his as they walked into the courtyard together, “I’d love to.”

Chapter Text

Good gods I am busy aghhhh

Anyhoo I put another oneshot, kind of a sequel to the last one I guess? (not really) (I should write an actual sequel to the first one actually...)

It makes very little sense, is very rambly and introspective (hopefully you can feel the Odyseuss going insane vibes that I was channeling), and probably has a bunch of typos idrk

But Polites is there :D

Hopefully I can get the next telewolfy chapter up next week :')

Chapter Text

Telemachus sat beside his mother in her room one evening, looking through papers and maps. He yawned and pulled his cloak around his shoulders slightly. She lit another lamp and handed him more papers.

“You’ll go through this strait if there aren't any storms. If there are, you'll want to go the long way around. It will delay you a day or so but it's much safer, less cliffs and rocks to crash on. . .”

He nodded, having heard her instructions a hundred times by now.

“I go south, then a little east, and then I'll be at Pylos. I'll be fine, mother, I swear.”

She smiled but she still looked a bit nervous for him.

“And you packed your-” she started.

“Yes, I packed the extra clothes,” he reassured for the hundredth time.

“And-”

“And I packed Wolfy too, yes! But let's not talk about that so loudly, please. . .” he pleaded weakly, feeling embarrassed.

“You'll do great. Remember, you-”

“‘You have to maintain peaceful interactions and establish profitable trade routes’, yeah, yeah. . .”

“That, yes. But if you let me finish, I was going to say ‘Remember you will always have me at your side to help you with political duties’. Get some rest dear, you have a lot to do tomorrow.”

She smiled and kissed him goodnight. He shook his head with a snicker as he walked back to his room, setting the papers down on his desk and flopping on his bed.

This would be his first big “princely duties” trip. He was sixteen now and it was already almost winter. . .Erastus was happily working with Eumaios and visiting Alexandra every weekend, Antinous was back to following him around and bullying him when he got bored, and life had sort of picked up a routine. His mother was never one to fall into inaction, so she had decided that he should get some practice at politics. He needed to go and get back before winter storms halted his journey home or he would have to stay the winter docked in Pylos. But if all went to plan he would be back in a week or two with good news! He was optimistic, but still nervous.

He undressed methodically, reviewing his mother's diplomacy lessons in his head over and over again. He unfastened his cloak and folded it on his desk for tomorrow morning. Always be respectful of their customs.

He unpinned his ears, letting them twitch and shake the stiffness away. He slipped off his bracelets and his father's signet ring and set them aside for tomorrow. Make friends if you can, enemies if you must.

He took off his chiton and folded it up on top of the cloak. Even if someone is being incredibly rude, annoying, or boring, you hold your tongue and be polite.

He undid his sandals and crawled into bed. Argos dozed on a rug next to the bed. Don't let anyone see your vulnerabilities until you're sure you can trust them. Sweet faces and silver tongues lead to knives in the back.

He was beginning to think some of his mother's advice was more from her experience and less of general advice, because she had also mentioned how to kill someone in their sleep and how to frame another person for it, which he was pretty sure he was not going to be using on this trip. . .

— — — — —

He had slept decently last night despite his nerves and left quietly in the morning. No need for all of Ithaca–particularly the suitors–to know that the prince would be gone for a week or so, or even all winter. The boat lurched slightly as the calm waves sloshed against its sides. He felt nauseous and he struggled to stay upright whenever he walked. The crew members said it was normal and that he would get used to it but he was miserable for the meantime. After talking with the captain about navigation directions and the current schedule, he finally got a moment to curl up below deck on a pile of blankets, finding it cozy enough for his pathetic sea-sick self. He found himself dozing off pretty quickly, already weary from the travel.

He dreamed of a strange island.

It was beautiful, with fruit trees and sandy beaches and a pretty woman picking flowers along the shore. Further down the beach on a rocky outcrop sat a wretched looking man, a surprising opposite to the woman. His hair and beard were overgrown and greying, stiff and tangled from sand and salt, and his eyes looked weary and sad.

Who was he? Why was he here? What gods had tormented this man so badly for him to reach this state?

The woman approached him and leaned down to kiss his cheek and tuck a flower behind his ear. The man flinched away from her touch and buried his face in his arms.

Why did he fear her touch? She was beautiful and seemed nice, why was he being so rude to her? Why did he look so dejected and exhausted when she seemed eternally radiant?

She rolled her eyes and stalked off back down the beach muttering something about dinner waiting for him if he even cared.

His dream shifted to an owl sitting on a tall marble pedestal and preening. It stared down at him with bright silver eyes for a long time until he woke up shivering and unsettled.

— — — — —

The ocean was beautiful, blue and green, and dark as the night sky because of its depth. The way it moved fascinated the prince. The good weather held out pretty well for the next few days so Telemachus and the crew had lots of time to relax. He ate meals with the crew and made friends with most of them (you could never have too many loyal people on your side, that much his mother had definitely taught him), and he made an effort to remember details about the different people on the small ship.

-The captain had two little boys waiting for him at home.

-Two of the oarsmen were brothers (but one had surprisingly light hair compared to the other so the resemblance was vague at best.)

-Paulos had definitely been caught in Theo’s bed that one time but Paulos was an invaluable crewman and occasionally gave really good life advice, so none of them mentioned ‘the incident’ except to do some light teasing.

It took them a few days to get to Pylos, and a day or so longer than Telemachus had hoped for, but they had arrived safely so he didn't mind too much. He was glad to finally set foot on dry ground again after the days at sea, but he still felt nauseous and had to lean on one of the men as they offloaded.

Telemachus took mental notes as he walked through the city and into the palace. It was much bigger than the one in Ithaca, full of great halls, massive pillars, and long draping curtains that blew lightly in the wind.

This part of the journey would be mainly on Telemachus; his crew would stay with the ship and presumably find somewhere to stay in the city. Telemachus stopped by a small fountain in a courtyard when he thought no one was looking and scooped up some water to wash his face and fix his hair a little.

“You know we have baths right?”

He startled as he heard a voice nearby, quickly covering his wolf ears with his pileus again and flicking excess water away. He turned around and found himself face to face with a girl about his age with curly chestnut hair, vaguely tied up with a few hair pins. She was carrying an armload of rich purple cloth, which Telemachus assumed the royal family of Ithaca wouldn't just trust to any random person. Who was she? A high ranking servant perhaps? She was pretty, he couldn't deny it.

“Y. . .yes, baths, right, I. . .um. . .I’m Telemachus!”

“Nice to meet you.”

She laughed and Telemachus smiled sheepishly.

“I just got here, sorry, and I'm kind of lost to be honest.”

She nodded and gestured for him to follow her (he certainly wasn't gonna say no).

“This palace is just a little bit of a maze, it's true. Where are you from?”

“Ithaca. I got here today.”

“Glad to know you haven't been wandering these halls for a week then!”

She laughed again and he reciprocated awkwardly.

“The baths are right through there. You can get cleaned up, and then to get to the hall where dinner usually is, you just go back through this corridor and to the right. Just follow the sound of people and you should find it. You should have time to clean up before dinner. Do you have any extra clothes with you?”

She talked fast and Telemachus stood there awkwardly for a moment, speechless.

“Yes. . .yes I have clothes with me. . .thank you.”

“I need to go put this stuff away, but then I can come back to help you if you want.”

He froze, unable to answer before she took his blushing silence as a yes, smirked, and walked away. He had always had to bathe alone, without servants or anyone beside his mother to assist him; he couldn't let random people see his ears and tail! But if she was some random servant girl would she care? Surely she would think it was strange, but she had seen weird things before right? This was her job right? How far could rumors spread in this palace? He wanted to tell her no, that he could do it alone just fine, but she had already left him and he shook his head, moving quickly to the baths. Maybe he could finish cleaning up before she came?

He went through a low arching door and poured water into a bath for himself, brushing away servant girls that tried to do it for him. Was it normal to have servants do everything for you? In Ithaca he had to do a lot for himself, and it felt weird for everyone to be so willing to assist him. He waited until almost all the servants had left before undressing and slipping into the bath. The water was a little cold, but he didn't mind. He had always liked mountain streams anyways.

He scrubbed his hair with a little soap and ducked his head under the bath surface to rinse it out. He came back up and wiped the water from his eyes, flicking water from his hair and ears like a wet dog. He was just getting out of the bath and squeezing water out of his hair when he heard someone's voice.

“Um. . .are you in here. . .Telemachus?” the girl from before asked as she started to peek around the curtain that hid Telemachus somewhat from the rest of the room.

“Just a second!” Telemachus squeaked.

He barely had time to hide his tail by wrapping a towel around himself and his ears by smacking his arm over his head. Why was she here?! All the other servants had left, so why was she still here?! He had thought she would come back just a little later and he would have already been done with his bath. Why hadn't he thought this through more? How in the world could he hide this?

She brushed the curtain aside and walked over. Telemachus hardly dared to breathe as she looked him up and down.

“Not bad. . .” She smirked as she looked at his upper body.

Telemachus blushed fiercely, “Wh-what?”

The girl shrugged and stepped away to grab a few things.

“You didn't wait for me to help you with the bath?”

Telemachus worked on drying his hair (the towel covered his ears conveniently as well).

“Thought you would be busy, and I could do it for myself, so why bother you, right?”

She turned back towards him, deep in thought for a moment.

“You're an odd one,” she finally decided and handed him a small bottle of oil for his hair.

He blushed again slightly, hand still in his hair holding his ears down.

“Um. . .could you. . . it'll just take a moment.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped past the curtain again, allowing him to brush out and oil his hair without hiding his ears from her. She tapped her foot as she waited. He quickly dried off and clumsily yanked his clothes on.

“You're as bad as my brother,” she commented.

Telemachus quickly pinned his ears down as she walked back around the curtain (thank the gods the lighting in here was so low).

“Oh?”

“He's a little bit of a. . .I don't know how to put it politely. He also freaks out whenever I walk in on him changing or something. Once he almost jumped out a window.”

She pinned his cloak on, smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric with gentle hands.

Telemachus blushed and smiled softly, “Yeah, I get the idea. So, dinner?”

She snickered and smacked him in the shoulder gently.

“The hall is down this way and to the right, like I said before. My name is Polycaste, by the way: daughter of Nestor, princess of Pylos. Don't get to dinner too late or you'll miss all the good food. . .and company~”

WAIT WHAT? She left before he could even process. A princess? He had thought she was merely a servant girl, but she was a princess. Oh no. And had she been flirting with him? Must have been his imagination. His stupid tail needed to stop wagging.

And he needed to go to dinner of course.

It turned out that Polycaste’s instructions had been drastically oversimplified so Telemachus ended up getting a little lost and arriving at the hall later than he intended. King Nestor was more than welcoming to him regardless of his belated arrival (but seriously Telemachus could only be hugged so many times). He sat down at the table beside the king, who immediately started telling war stories and rambling happily to anyone that would listen. Polycaste sat on the other side of Nestor and there was an empty chair beside Telemachus, which Telemachus assumed had been occupied by someone who had already eaten and slipped away before he had found the dining hall.

The hours wore on and Telemachus had finished eating a very long time ago, but still Nestor would not stop talking! Telemachus knew that the king was just very friendly, but the party's noise was beginning to stress him out and he really just wanted a moment alone. He finally managed to slip away from the king and found his way into a small corridor. He leaned against the wall, finding comfort in the feeling of the soft curtain against the marble walls. He took a deep breath. It was quieter here. It had been a long few days and he wanted to relax a little for once.

He suddenly noticed he wasn't alone here. His ears perked up under his hat at a slight sound down the hall and he quickly turned, baring his teeth warily. There was a young man with curly blond hair casually leaning against a bench down the hall, sipping wine from a goblet and glancing at him.

“Took you long enough to notice me,” he said with a snicker and walked over.

He had a small earring that dangled from one ear and his tunic was soft and clean with red embroidery.

“My father gets a little. . . enthusiastic. . .with new people–I apologize for that–and so I was getting some air. It seems you had the same idea.”

So he was one of Nestor's sons.

“His majesty is no problem at all, really! Being too friendly is better than being mean to visitors, right?”

(Telemachus was not going to speak bad of king Nestor so quickly after meeting him, and certainly not around one of his sons!)

“I suppose so. But the man can ramble for hours. . .” he chuckled wearily and handed Telemachus his wine, stepping out onto a balcony that overlooked a luscious garden.

Telemachus followed him awkwardly, taking a sip of the man's wine and choking slightly at its strength. The other prince laughed and gingerly took the cup back.

“Not used to strong stuff?” he teased as he took a long drink.

“I don't really drink. . .” Telemachus explained.

“Ah. Well, it's not for everyone.”

He shrugged and leaned against the balcony railing. Telemachus joined him and looked out at the garden, admiring the way moonlight cast strange shadows over the grounds and made the stone pillars and fountains glitter in an otherworldly light.

“You're like my mother in some ways. . .” Telemachus observed. “I mean that as a compliment! She drinks much stronger stuff than I ever could.”

He laughed and looked at Telemachus curiously.

“And who, exactly, am I being compared to?”

“My mother is Penelope, daughter of Icarius. She's cousins with Helen of Sparta and Clytemnestra of Mycenae, but I don't know if you know of that family very well, or–”

“Telemachus! The son of Odysseus! Of course! It all makes sense now. Of course I know who all those people are! I've heard stories of Odysseus and his family from my father. He knows lots of stories about different people,” he said with an excited grin, before his face saddened slightly. “Odysseus is still not back though?”

Telemachus shook his head silently in response and Pisistratus looked out at the garden in a moment of silent understanding.

“I had a brother that never came back too. I never actually got to meet him. . .I was too young at the time to go to war with them.”

“Same as me then. I was born just before my dad had to leave so I've never met him. I don't have any siblings though, my mother has remained unmarried.”

“No siblings? Well then, you, my friend, are in for a whole lot of chaos here. My name's Pisistratus: the youngest son of Nestor. I've got five brothers and two sisters at the moment. . .”

“Wow. That's. . .a lot.”

“Yeah, well, some of our parents aren't quite as loyal as your mother, I’m just saying. . .” he said, raising his eyebrows with a smirk and sipping his wine again.

Telemachus laughed in disbelief and smacked Pisistratus’ arm as punishment for the suggestive remark. Pisistratus giggled.

“Come on, I'll get you a room for the night and tomorrow we can get through whatever diplomacy you came here for, and then, we get to have some fun before you go back home!”

“Sounds perfect.”

Pisistratus clasped his hand around Telemachus' in a more formal greeting, startling Telemachus, who was more used to suitors doing whatever the hell they liked.

“Nice to meet you Telemachus, prince of Ithaca.”

Telemachus smiled softly and briefly admired the way Pisistratus' warm brown eyes looked at him.

“Likewise, Pisistratus, son of the long-winded King Nestor~”

They both started snickering and any sense of formality was immediately lost as they laughed and joked all the way to the guest room that had been prepared for Telemachus.

Chapter Text

Telemachus twisted and turned under the blankets of his bed. It felt too warm, too cold, too dark, too still. . . .In his dreams he saw a tall woman with narrow features peering down at him. He scrambled back and realised he wasn't quite dreaming anymore: his hands could feel the blanket beneath him and a breeze through his window ruffled his hair gently. The woman seemed to notice his fear and straightened up, stepping back from him. She had short choppy red hair under a bronze helmet and her grey eyes peered at him curiously like they could pierce his soul. She had a light blue tunic under an intricately designed chestplate and wore some lower arm guards, but her shimmering purple cloak mostly covered her silver armor.

It finally clicked just who this “person” was, and his dream self stumbled out of bed as best he could and pressed himself to the floor desperately, tail between his legs and ears tucked back in what he assumed was a respectful manner.

“Great Athena, favored by Zeus, please show favor to the son of Odyseuss-” he begged quickly.

“Oh, skip the groveling. . .” she mumbled, leaning against the wall across from him and looking down at his kneeling form.

Telemachus slowly pulled himself up, looking around in confusion. Was this a test? A trap?

“Wh. . .what? You don't want me to. . .?”

“No.”

“Huh? But in all the stories-”

“Don’t even start on stories and heroes of the past. I, like any other god, adore eternal worship, but mortals really like to drag on the ‘praise and pleasing’ part sometimes and. . .I would like to think you and I are a little more well acquainted than that.”

She smiled awkwardly (at least Telemachus was pretty sure that's what the goddess was trying to do). He blinked in surprise and sat up against the bed, still on the floor. He was talking to a real life goddess, and she didn't want his absolute and immediate adoration? Also what the hell was going on?

“What. . .do you mean we're acquainted? We just met. . .” he ventured hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't get mad at him for his inferior mortal mind.

“Oh, silly wolf, I've been watching over you for years. Your parents' prayers when you were young got my attention actually, and you have certainly had an interesting life so far, haven't you?”

She looked down at him with those piercing grey eyes of hers and he froze nervously.

“You've been watching me? I don't know how to feel about that, but okay. . Thanks. . .?”

She chuckled; a shrill, grating thing like a screech owl's call. She crouched down in front of him in a smooth motion, still towering over him a bit.

“Let me put it this way: Who do you think watched over you in the forest on the night of your transformation? Who do you think chased that goat away from your herd so you would meet Erastus? (We do answer slaves’ prayers sometimes, tell him that for me.)”

She tilted her head to the side with a slight smile gleaming in her silver eyes.

“I may not show up in obvious ways all the time, but I don't mind nudging fate in one way or another every once in a while~”

His tail wagged vaguely and he blushed. Had she been there for his good moments too, or just his awkward ones? He hoped that she didn't think of him badly after watching his whole life and seeing all his mistakes.

“Woah. . .I didn't know you were there for those things. . .”

“That's all you have to say?” she asked, unimpressed.

“I. . .sorry. . . I've never really met a goddess before. I don't know what to say.”

She smirked and stood back up.

“It's alright, you'll eventually learn how to speak with skill and a silvered tongue. Your father wasn’t immediately good at it either.”

He looked up in surprise.

“What? Really?”

“Yep. I suggest that you observe Pisistratus and the other nobles and royals you meet here; they can offer you many lessons. If you need any guidance, seek me in your dreams or at the temple in the city. Dawn comes for the mortal world, little one. I'll speak to you later, kid–peace out.”

She stepped back and pulled her cloak over her in a swish of sparkly light.

“Huh?! What the hell does peace out mean-” Telemachus yelled as stood up, reaching for Athena's quickly vanishing form. “In my dreams?! How am I supposed to do that? You can’t give me instructions for-?”

She was gone, and Telemachus felt himself jerk awake even though he hadn't felt asleep before. He was on the ground next to his bed, his blankets tangled around him, sweating and panting heavily. Morning light was spilling through the window and Telemachus stood with wobbly legs, stumbling to put some proper clothes on and wash up before starting his day.

Had it all been just a random dream? But he had woken on the floor, how had he gotten there? And he remembered it so vividly, he had felt perfectly lucid the whole time. . .Had he really just met a goddess? His father’s friend and mentor? Why had she chosen to show up now and not at any other point in his life?

— — — — —

Telemachus got up and got ready for the day. He spent far too much time in front of a mirror trying to fix his hair and clothes perfectly, his tail wagging stubbornly beneath his tunic. He met with the king and the council of Pylos before breakfast. He sat there patiently, observing as Athena had told him to. Every time that Pisistratus spoke up he seemed to make good points and articulate them so clearly. . .how did he do that so well? Lots of practice, Telemachus supposed. Telemachus finally stated his case and the trade propositions that his mother had given him, feeling slightly terrified to stand before so many experienced men and pretend he knew what he was doing. Telemachus left the meeting just hoping that he had established the diplomatic relationship he was supposed to re-affirm and that he had said what he meant in a clear and concise way (Pisistratus gave him a thumbs up after he spoke, so he had done alright, right?)

He sat next to Nestor again during breakfast, feeling quite awkward and homesick by now. At least Pisistratus sat on his other side this time and didn’t leave early. Telemachus knew that Nestor meant well, but his never-ending kindness was just a little over-bearing. Was this what having a father was like? Even his own grandfather wasn’t this loving. He would have felt awkward but Pisistratus kept making snarky remarks under his breath that made Telemachus giggle and wag his tail. This stupid prince was going to expose his whole secret! Damn him and his fluffy hair and funny jokes and deep brown eyes. . .and damn you Telemachus, you have a job to do here!

“-and she made these amazing little honey cookie things. . .but enough about my family, what about yours, Telemachus?”

Nestor was speaking. Had he been talking to him the whole time? Crap. Telemachus had apparently zoned out while staring at Pisistratus.

“Um. . .my mother! She’s doing alright, I think,” Telemachus mumbled while nodding slowly and taking a bite from some of the ribs piled on his plate.

He accidentally bit down too heavily on a piece of bone. This was not a huge problem for him–he had discovered he could chomp through bones pretty easily–but it would look quite odd for the average human to do that regularly. He pretended to wince and set the snapped bone down on his plate. Nestor barely noticed the incident and kept talking. Pisistratus quietly looked at the cracked bone hidden amongst the food on Telemachus’ plate. Pisistratus could understand the accidental breaking of a small, fragile, chicken bone or something, but a bone that thick? How had Telemachus shattered it like that? How had Telemachus not hurt his teeth on it? He was. . .an odd person. . .

“And your mother remains unmarried? Even after all these years?” Nestor asked another question, directed at Telemachus.

“Yes, she still awaits my father’s return. My cousin got married three years ago though! She recently had her first kid, so that’s cool. Which makes me an uncle? Well, not directly, cuz she’s not my sister, but like, sort of. .?”

Telemachus wasn’t sure what else to say. He could have sworn his sharp ears picked up Polycaste giggling and talking to another girl about him nearby. Maybe that was just paranoia (or wishful thinking). He took a deep breath and willed his tail to stay still and concealed under his tunic. Pisistratus pushed his chair back and got up.

“Well, this has been. . .a truly intriguing conversation,” he said sarcastically, though it took a moment for Telemachus to realise it was sarcastic.

“Telemachus, come on, let's find something fun to do!”

He yanked Telemachus up from his half-finished breakfast with a mischievous grin.

“But we’re still talking-” he protested weakly.

“Don’t worry about it, boys. Go have fun,” Nestor chuckled and waved them away vaguely, taking a sip from his wine.

“Can I go too, father?” Polycaste spoke up softly.

Nestor hesitated and Pisistratus groaned in annoyance. Telemachus felt a little bad for her so he spoke up quickly.

“I wouldn’t mind at all, would you Pisistratus?”

Pisistratus looked annoyed that Telemachus was putting him on the spot like this but begrudgingly agreed.

“Alright, go ahead. But stay with your brother,” Nestor acquiesced.

“And don’t be annoyingggg,” Pisistratus grumbled.

Polycaste ignored her brother with a smug look and happily joined them. The three walked through the palace, talking about random topics and laughing. Telemachus enjoyed himself. They walked through the crowded city streets of Pylos until Pisistratus eventually bought them all lunch from a small shop.

They sat on the steps of a large temple, eating sticky honey rolls and sharing some grapes, occasionally talking, but lapsing into silence for the most part as they watched people going about their business. Telemachus finished his food first and wandered off to wash his hands in a fountain at the entrance of the temple. He could have sworn he heard someone calling his name. He looked around but the voice didn't call again. Athena had mentioned something about the temple, hadn't she? His curiosity was piqued and he wandered further into the temple.

Telemachus' feet brought him to a shrine of Athena in a far corner of the temple. He noticed that the offerings were a little messy so he sat down and began to readjust the flowers and olive branches and bowls of food at the foot of the statue carefully.

“Heh, you are adorable, aren't you. . .”

Telemachus looked up and saw Athena standing beside him. He pressed himself to the floor quickly but she just sighed and nudged him with her foot.

“Come on, get up, we talked about this already.”

Telemachus sat back up and watched in awe as Athena plopped down next to him, glancing at the shrine vaguely. She picked up an olive from an offering bowl and ate it.

“I like olives,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Me too,” Telemachus said softly.

She offered him some and he hesitantly took one.

“Am I allowed to. . .y’know eat these?”

She thought about it for a moment.

“Uhhhh. . .yeah, I think it's fine. I said you could, so you’re not stealing or anything.”

He chewed slowly. The last time he had accepted food from a strange being, he had gotten a tail. But this was Athena. Athena was different. So it was okay. Right?

“I don’t like Pisistratus,” she said blankly.

“What. . .? Why?”

“He could betray you! Did you never think about that? That he could get you hurt? Look, I know you wanna have friends, but seriously, you need to get better ones. . .like me.”

She didn’t look at him. Telemachus wished she would.

“What the hell does that mean? I. . .have friends. . .” he protested.

She stared down at him with those unblinking grey eyes and he regretted his wish for eye contact. Did she never blink?!

“The pig-herder is as old as your dad, Antinous is also older–and kind of a jerk, let’s be honest–, and Theron. . .actually he’s not bad. But you see what I mean? You don’t need all these people, they just try to use you or hurt you or–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Athena,” he grumbled with a scowl.

“With your father it was just me! Then he met Penelope, then Diomedes, then Polites, then. . .suddenly all the wonderful advice he had ever gotten from a goddess was out the window and he didn’t care anymore! I don’t want that to happen to you too. You could be the best warrior in all of Greece if you just–”

He sighed and shook his head, “I’m gonna have friends, Athena. I don’t need to be the best warrior in all of Greece."

“And I get that! You can have friends! I’M TOTALLY FINE WITH YOU HAVING OTHER FRIENDS!”

“You don’t sound fine with it. . .” he suggested nervously.

“Well I am. I’m totally fine,” she huffed and looked away.

“Right, well, um. . .I should get back to my friends now, before they start worrying about me.”

She stood up as he did and watched him walk away.

“Just. . .be careful okay? Don’t let people know your weaknesses, or get too close to you! It only brings you pain!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “. . .I will. . . take that into consideration, Athena. . .”

— — — — —

“He’s odd isn’t he. . .” Pisistratus mumbled as he turned to his sister.

Polycaste snickered and looked down.

“Come on, you can’t deny it. He’s different. I mean at breakfast this morning he shattered a really thick bone, by accident! Have you ever seen someone do that?”

“No. . .I suppose not,” she admitted.

Pisistratus stared at her and then shook his head in disbelief.

“You know something, don't you. . .”

“I don’t! I suspect something. It's a working theory.” she huffed.

“Don’t play dumb, you totally know something! Tell me!”

“You gotta get me flowers before I tell you anything!”

Pisistratus grumbled and yanked her over by the wrist; she kicked him in the shin in reply. Telemachus wandered back over to the two in time for him to see Pisistratus and Polycaste trying to push each other into a water trough.

“Um. . .what’d I miss?”

Pisistratus and Polycaste quickly shoved each other away and straightened up. He couldn’t very well tell Telemachus that he and his sister had been discussing him behind his back! Pisistratus dusted himself off, ignoring his sister’s glare and stepped closer to Telemachus.

“Nothing, nothing. What took you so long?”

Now it was Telemachus’ turn to panic a little.

“Oh, I, um. . .thought someone called my name. . .but it was just the wind or something. . .c’mon, let’s go back to the palace before the sun goes down, shall we? Don’t wanna miss more of your dad’s awesome stories!”

Polycaste and Pisistratus stared at him in confusion. Pisistratus patted him on the back cautiously.

“Are you sure you feel alright? You must have eaten something weird. . .” he teased.

Telemachus laughed and Pisistratus led them all back towards the palace for the evening. Polycaste lagged behind, watching Telemachus carefully. He was a strange boy, but neither her nor Pisistratus could figure out how exactly. Was he just really shy? But the incident Pisistratus had noticed at breakfast was certainly odd. And he had just disappeared into the temple with no explanation! Pisistratus knew that she might know something that he didn’t, but he didn’t know exactly how much she knew, so now she could blackmail him into doing what she wanted.

Torturing her brother and figuring out the mystery of Telemachus: the most entertaining idea she had come up with in a long time.

Chapter Text

Polycaste stood outside the door to the guest room where she knew Telemachus was staying, waiting for a few moments to get her courage up. She raised her hand, her bracelets clinking together, and knocked on the guest room door. Telemachus answered wearing a loose tunic, still half-asleep, with horribly messy hair and vaguely-concealed panic in his eyes. (Why did he look like he had just run around and hidden stuff or something?) She pushed past him into the room without a care in the world and he froze, then cleared his throat and spoke to her awkwardly.

“You know, visiting a Prince's bedroom in the middle of the night looks sort of bad. . .”

Polycaste smirked softly (he was thinking about her image, what a gentleman!) and picked up the small wolf stuffed animal that was sitting on his bed. Telemachus’ eyes narrowed and he quickly jerked forward, grabbing the stuffed animal and holding it in his arms protectively. She backed off in surprise and left it alone.

“So, what brings you here, your Highness,” Telemachus snapped.

His tone was a little rougher now that she had touched his stuffed animal, and he wasn't smiling as much anymore. It was kind of funny how defensive he was of the thing, and Polycaste could've sworn he actually growled when she'd touched it.

“Well. . .you’re a strange boy, Telemachus. And I want to know why.”

“What? I assure you, I. . .have no idea what you're talking about. . .”

She rolled her eyes; he was a terrible liar.

“Pisistratus is suspicious of you too. Stop denying that you're. . .odd. ‘Tratus said you bit a bone in half during breakfast and, well, normal people can't do that! So. . .what are you?!”

Telemachus flushed red and was stunned speechless for a second. He sat down unsteadily in a chair, looking like a cornered dog.

“I don't have to tell you.”

She smirked and raised an eyebrow as if to say “so there is something?”.

“It's complicated. Maybe I'll tell you some other day.”

He stood and gently pushed her towards the door.

“Can I at least guess?”

Not knowing things was driving her crazy. Why couldn't he just tell her whatever it was?

“I’m not gonna confirm or deny your answers-” he said as he pushed her out of his room and started shutting the door.

“You’re a demigod! A god? A nymph?”

She pushed back against the door slightly.

“Goodnight, Polycaste. . .” He said with an apologetic smile and shut the door on the annoyed princess.

— — — — —

The next evening Pisistratus was in his room, going over a stack of trade agreements. Why did he even have to do these? These were Thrasymedes’ papers! Oh right, his older brother had caught him stealing snacks from the kitchen, and had blackmailed him into doing this for a week. Screw him.

Someone knocked.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“No!” a voice yelled back.

Ah yes, that would be Polycaste. Pisistratus scrambled from his seat to look for something to barricade the door with, but his sister shoved into the room before he could. He sighed and flopped on his bed.

“What do you waaaaaant?”

Polycaste smirked mischievously and sat down on his desk, kicking her legs like a little kid.

“He has ears.”

“Huh? Who? Telemachus? Well yeah, most people have ears, idiot, no sh-”

“Not. . .human. . .ears.”

“Uh. . .what do you mean by that?”

He sat up slowly and glanced at the door, making sure it was shut all the way. Polycaste smirked.

“He has little wolf ears. Right on top of his head. I saw them last night in his bedroom.”

“Hold up- HIS BEDROOM?!”

“Oh calm down, it's not that big of a deal, I just went to check on him. He wasn't wearing his hat, and you could just see his ears a little under all that messy hair. . .I don't know what he is, but he's definitely not your average human prince. . .”

Pisistratus mulled it over and sighed, shaking his head.

“I agree that's weird, and usually I love to gossip with you, but. . .he's my friend, Poly. And you really shouldn't be trying to figure everything out about him. It's none of your business, you were being extremely nosy and impolite to our guest..”

Polycaste scowled. Pisistratus waited a few minutes and then gave up on trying to be the better person here.

“Fine, I do want to know what's up with that weirdo. Tell Telemachus to meet me in the north stairwell in ten minutes, alone.”

Polycaste smiled and left, content with her brother's reaction to the shocking intel she had provided. Pisistratus sorted his papers into a neat pile and grabbed a cloak to throw on over his night clothes. He had a mystery to solve: the papers could wait.

— — — — —

Telemachus walked through the quiet halls, the only sound around him the quiet chirps of crickets in the garden and his own sandals smacking softly on the marble. It was dark outside, and the halls were cold, lit by the occasional lamp or torch. He pulled his cloak closer around him and ducked through a low doorway. Was this the right place? The Pylian palace was still quite a maze to him. Pisistratus walked out of the shadows and grinned, and Telemachus sighed in relief. Pisistratus giggled mischievously and Telemachus could feel his ears go back warily under his hat.

“Oh no-” he groaned.

Pisistratus grabbed his hand without a word and dragged him up a narrow stone staircase, ignoring Telemachus' whispered and frantic questions. The two boys climbed onto a support beam and squeezed through a small window, finding themselves on the tile roof of the oldest wing of the palace. Telemachus looked down warily at the ground far below and felt himself swaying off-balance. Pisistratus pulled him away from the edge gently and sat them both down on a ledge, looking up at the bright starry sky. It was beautiful. There was a cool winter breeze blowing through the trees below them and ruffling Pisistratus' blond curls.

“How did you find this place?” Telemachus asked, in awe of the excellent hiding spot and the view it provided of the palace grounds and city beyond.

“I used to sneak up here when I was younger,” Pisistratus whispered. “I liked looking at the stars and the strange things in the sky.”

He glanced at Telemachus, who was still gazing up at the stars with an awestruck grin.

“And you, Tele, are quickly becoming the strangest thing I've ever seen. . .”

Telemachus looked down slightly and didn't glance at Pisistratus as he spoke to him, “I don't know what you mean. . .”

Pisistratus chuckled, not unkindly.

“My sister told me she saw your little wolf ears, and at breakfast yesterday you snapped a bone in half with your teeth. Most people can't do that, dude. . .”

Telemachus froze and panicked. Could he trust Pisistratus and Polycaste to keep his secret? Would they think of him differently if they knew? Where was Athena's advice when he actually needed it? Right, her only advice to him had been: don't have friends and don't trust anyone. Not super helpful.

“You gotta promise me you won't tell anyone else, and that you'll still be my friend, okay?”

Pisistratus saw how nervous his friend looked and settled into a more serious expression.

“I swear it. You can tell me anything.”

Telemachus' hands were shaky as he hesitantly took his pileus off and took out the hairpins holding his ears down. He shook his head and let his ears flick up. Pisistratus' jaw dropped.

“Polycaste was telling the truth? Woah. . .you. . .”

Telemachus pulled his cloak around him tighter, feeling sick from anxiety.

“I have a tail too, sharp teeth.”

Pisistratus noticed the other boy's anxiety and apparent chilliness, and to Telemachus' surprise, scooted closer and wrapped his cloak around both of them.

“I. . .I mean. . .I don't really know what to say here, sorry. . .but you're still Telemachus. . .even if you're a little puppy-Telemachus.”

Pisistratus smiled and petted Telemachus' ears with thinly veiled curiosity and admiration.

“Now that I've said it, it really doesn't feel like it was that big of a deal. . .” Telemachus admitted awkwardly.

“Yeah, no big deal. You're just. . .different. I'm fine with that.”

Telemachus laughed weakly and Pisistratus squeezed his hand supportively. The night was quiet, peaceful, and a little chilly, but it was warm when they sat beside each other. After a while Pisistratus looked over at Telemachus and grinned mischievously.

“You wanna try something fun?”

“Uh. . .what is it. . .?”

Pisistratus got up and scrambled up the roof a little, balancing himself on a higher ledge precariously.

“Have you ever howled at the moon?” he asked, looking down at Telemachus with a grin.

Telemachus scowled at the assumption.

“Huh? No! Just because I have a tail, doesn't mean-”

Pisistratus shook his head and helped Telemachus up onto the higher ledge.

“I didn't mean it like that! I just. . .I did it sometimes as a kid, y'know? Came up here whenever I felt bad and screeched like a wild animal into the sky until I felt better.”

Pisistratus stood up and roared loudly at the sky, yipping and screeching like a wounded jackal. Telemachus giggled and stood up as well, howling loudly, clearly, and eerily, to the moon above.

“Damn, yours is better than mine. . .” Pisistratus admitted.

The two boys sat on the ledge and laughed and howled into the night sky until someone (probably Polycaste, let's be honest) threw a shoe in their direction from the ground and told them to shut up and go to bed. Telemachus and Pisistratus tried to hush their laughter and stop the other one from laughing as they quickly climbed down and scrambled through the halls.

Telemachus woke up late the next morning, sprawled on his friend's bed, tangled up in a warm blanket. He felt too cozy to get up just yet. . .He wiped his eyes sleepily and looked around Pisistratus' room while pulling the blanket up. The room was a little messy. A couple of flowers in a skillfully-crafted vase and two empty wine glasses sat on the desk. Pisistratus must've gone to get some work done in the palace archives at some point during the night or early this morning, but Telemachus didn't mind. He only remembered a little of what all had happened last night. He knew it had been fun though: talking with the other prince late into the night, even drinking a little wine (he still wasn't a huge fan, but it was easier with Pisistratus. He felt safe around him.). He laid back in bed, feeling comfortable and satisfied and happy.

He felt sorry to leave Pylos so soon, especially with such good friends here. He would have to visit again sometimes; perhaps he could arrange his diplomatic missions to lead him back here more often. He sighed and finally got up, keeping the blanket on like a cape while he got dressed in the clean clothes that Pisistratus had left for him on the desk. Once he was up and ready for the day he went back to his guest room and packed up his things. He stopped by the archives and said goodbye to Pisistratus. Pisistratus promised to visit Ithaca some time, and at the very least, welcome Telemachus back to Pylos any time he stopped by. Polycaste was apparently visiting an aunt that day and had already left the palace, so Telemachus passed on his farewells to her through Pisistratus. He thanked King Nestor for his hospitality and then made his way back through the city and back to the docks where his crew awaited him, getting ready to sail.

(Ugh, boats.)

He really did not look forward to another few days at sea, but at least his trip to Pylos had been successful, the weather looked fine, and winter storms hadn't come yet so he would be able to get home on time.

He was thrilled with his first diplomatic mission and continued talking about it and his new friends to the crew as they worked. The only thing that finally shut him up was when they got out to sea and he got sick again (retching over the side of a ship does dampen one's mood slightly).

He took another nap in the hull, wrapped up in the captain's heavy cloak. In his dreams he saw Athena sitting beside him, sipping a strange drink. He sat up and wiped his eyes vaguely.

“Hey. . .” he mumbled.

She nodded hello and sipped more of her drink through a thin straw. Telemachus scooted over beside her and looked at the drink curiously.

“What are those things, floating in your drink?”

“Ice. Hermes and Aeolus were playing around up north and decided we should all test out their new invention of ‘ice cubes’. They're. . .interesting. They keep your drinks cold, even in summer. I don't think mortals have the technology to maintain frozen water during the summer, do they?”

Telemachus shook his head slightly, “No. We should be getting a little snow back in Ithaca by now though. . .”

“Yeah, ice is not quite the same thing as snow, but. . .whatever. How'd your mission go?”

“Great. . .”

Telemachus yawned, feeling sleepy again. He curled up and leaned against Athena, who stiffened up in confusion but didn't move away.

“Good. I'm glad it went well. And I've kept your home safe for you, don't worry.”

“Thanks. . .”

He dozed off (could one do that in a dream?) and fell into a comfortable sleep beneath the warm cloak, alone (appearing so to all but himself) in the hull of the rocking ship.

Chapter Text

Argos napped in the small patches of afternoon sunlight, soaking up warmth from the ground in the courtyard, and Telemachus worked nearby, moving some potted plants outdoors for his mother. It had been many weeks since he had been to Pylos and the winter snow was finally slipping off the mountains and making way for spring rains. It was sunny today but Telemachus could see clouds on the horizon so he was fairly certain that it would storm again this evening.

Telemachus’ peaceful meditation was interrupted by Antinous and a few other suitors walking through the gate, laughing and talking. Amphinomus had mentioned a hunting trip that morning and Telemachus couldn't deny that he was slightly curious to see their results. He barely had time to go hunting or exploring, or, well, do anything very fun, now that he had to do so much as a prince. He walked into the hall behind Melanthius and stayed near the edges of the room, stealing glances at Antinous as he sat down in a chair, poured himself wine, and boasted of his adventures to the other suitors.

“You will hardly believe this but the goddess Artemis must have blessed my hands! One of the most exciting hunts we’ve been on for a long time, wouldn’t you say Eury?”

Eurymachus shrugged and laughed, “I don’t think it was Artemis that got us our kill, considering the way you behave on the regular, but I suppose it was a rather eventful day.”

Antinous shoved Eurymachus jokingly to make him shut up and sat up with growing excitement.

“See, there was this giant she wolf; she came right at us. I only just barely got it in the neck with my knife, and it gave me this thing down my arm. . .”

He grinned and proudly showed off a long claw mark down his forearm.

“Oh, I thought you got that tripping on a tree root-” Amphinomus mumbled sarcastically, earning him a glare from Antinous.

Telemachus' attention was piqued and he cautiously wandered closer. A wolf? Telemachus saw a large furry pelt slung around Antinous's shoulders and he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. It's not that he was scared of hunting or dead things, but. . .a wolf. . .? It bore too much resemblance to his own features for him to feel comfortable. Antinous noticed him standing nearby and waved him over with a (slightly sadistic?) smile. Telemachus really didn't want to come closer to the dead wolf but Melanthius pushed him from behind. He stumbled forward and found himself in front of Antinous.

“What?!” he snapped, feeling particularly annoyed now.

“Well, little wolf? You see what I did today?”

Antinous stood up and dropped the pelt onto the table. He knew Telemachus' secret, and he definitely knew the not-so-subtle point he was making now.

“What, why do you look so freaked out? Was that your mother? Oh well, the pretty thing is dead now.”

Telemachus really wanted to punch him right now.

“See kid, this is what real men can do. They can hunt, kill, and protect themselves. What have you done recently? Oh yeah, that little trade mission to Pylos. We all know what you were really doing. Something with that prince, yeah~”

Okay, that was definitely enough.

“Antinous, I did nothing of the sort, and you would be wise to shut your mouth before I shut it for you-”

Before hands were thrown Eurymachus smoothly pushed forward and stepped between the two.

“Oh calm down. Antinous, you've proven you're an arrogant bastard, and Telemachus you've proved you're a wimp. Whatever.”

Antinous huffed in annoyance and Eurymachus pulled Telemachus away slightly, resting his arm over Telemachus’ shoulders. Telemachus pushed him off.

“Oh don’t get all high and mighty now, dear prince. Look, if you really want to get back at Antinous. . .perhaps you should prove that you’re as manly as him. . .My advice is to go spend the night in the woods, maybe hunt something interesting, and then come back. That's not hard is it?”

Eurymachus' words had been loud enough that Telemachus knew other people had heard them. Telemachus couldn't refuse now. If he did he would never get past the accusations of being a coward.

“Fine. I'll do it.”

Antinous looked surprised, even Eurymachus looked surprised. They hadn’t expected him to actually accept such a challenge and this made Telemachus feel a bit proud. He would prove that he was better than all of them and that he was not a cowardly child. Maybe then they would finally respect him a little.

— — — — —

Nope. Telemachus was an idiot. He was quickly learning this as he sat under a tree, listening to rain fall against the ground and feeling it trickle down his face. He was freezing, sopping wet, and regretting most of his life decisions right now. He finally gave in and stood up. Protecting his pride was not worth this misery. He grabbed his bag, cloak, and the spear he had leaned against the tree, and started through the woods as rain began to fall thick around him. The torrential was nearly blinding as he reached a path he thought he knew, and he kept slipping on muddy grass and stones. He fell really badly once and scraped his leg. He was pretty sure he was bleeding, but he didn't have the energy to care right now.

An owl hooted far above but he ignored it.

He probably shouldn't have.

He suddenly found himself tumbling and slipping down a muddy bank and splashing into a small stream of water. He spluttered furiously and looked around, trying to see further than his hand in the flashing rain.

His sensitive ears picked up a faint sound and, despite his better judgement, he scrambled over the muddy ground towards it. He looked closer and found a small opening in the bank, a dug-out den in the ground. He heard a small mewling sound from inside and quickly pushed damp earth aside to reach within, pulling out a tiny whimpering bundle of wet fur. The little creature nipped at him and barked hoarsely. Telemachus growled back in warning and it curled up tighter. He chuckled softly and tucked it against his chest under his damp cloak, trying to keep it warm. He looked inside the den again and felt around a bit. There were two more piles of fur within but they were cold and still, both without a heartbeat. He looked down at the crying whelp and climbed back up the bank, holding it tight.

“Where's your mother, little wolf. . .?”

It started whining again and he shushed it gently, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around the small animal. He remembered the large wolf pelt that he had seen on the table; the results of Antinous’ hunt. He hugged the crying whelp gently.

“Oh. . .I'm sorry. . .Antinous. . .he. . . I'm so sorry, little one. . .”

He collected his things from the various places they had fallen when he tripped down the bank, and walked through the woods, holding the wolf pup close to him and trying to share his warmth. He finally came out from the woods and into one of the royal orchards. Relief flooded him as he realised he was in familiar territory. In fact he was pretty sure this was the orchard he had met Erastus in. Erastus! Maybe he could help! Eumaios and him might still be awake, and maybe they could help him with the baby wolf he now rocked in his arms. He quickly made his way through rows of trees until he found himself on the hill where Eumaios' place was. He walked past the pig and goat pens, finding them mostly still and dark, all the animals fast asleep in their shelters. He felt slightly jealous of their warm hay and rough blankets at the moment.

He knocked on the door: sopping wet, covered in mud, with a bleeding leg, sticks and leaves stuck to his clothing and hair, and holding a crying whelp. Luckily Eumaios answered, late at night though it was.

“Telemachus? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at home? Did something happen? What in the world did you do-” he mumbled in disbelief as he glanced the messy prince up and down.

“Huh? No, no, I'm fine. I was spending the night in the woods to prove some stupid point and then it started raining, and I found a baby wolf! But uh. . .do you know how to take care of one of those?”

Eumaios blinked and stared at him for a while, ensuring that Telemachus had time to realise he sounded like a lunatic.

“Tele, I know how to take care of puppies and princes, and occasionally runaway kids. Don't know much about wolves though. If he’s anything like a dog he'll need to eat and stay warm. . .other than that, it's just luck that’ll keep him alive. . .”

Eumaios smiled softly and petted the little creature in Telemachus' arms.

“Do you think Erastus wants a puppy?” Telemachus asked hopefully.

“He hates dogs,” Eumaios reminded him.

“Oh. Right. Is he here?”

“He's asleep. Like you should be. We can talk more later, Tele, go home and get some rest. . .”

Telemachus reluctantly nodded and started walking down the path, rocking the puppy gently. Eumaios went back inside, closing the door. Telemachus was left in the rain and the dark. He saw someone by the gate in the faint moonlight which occasionally managed to peek through the clouds and he cautiously walked closer, not being able to see their face. He held the whelp closer to him, trying to silence its plaintive whining.

“Hello. . .?”

The person turned. Oh, it was just Erastus! But didn't Eumaios say that he was in bed? What was he doing out here? And what was with the brand on his ankle? It looked different than usual. Maybe it was just the rain. “Erastus” smiled and blinked strangely, tilting his head just a little too far at an angle. Telemachus laughed weakly, because if he didn’t he would have cried in terror. He really hoped this was who he thought it was.

“Athena, is that you? Humans don't really act like that. . .”

Erastus stuck his tongue out and shifted into a familiar tall woman with short cropped red hair and silver eyes. Telemachus sighed in relief and walked over to join her.

“Look, do you want me to be subtle or not? I was trying something, it didn’t work, whatever. We don't have time right now. You and your gullible mind and stupid pride, you really are just like your dad sometimes.”

She scowled as the two walked down the path together. Telemachus glanced up at her, trying to keep up with her long strides.

“Is something wrong? I don't understand.”

“The suitors. They convinced you to go into the woods all night, didn't they? Have you soaking wet and cold and miserable and in possible danger of getting hurt or mysteriously disappearing? You should be smarter than that! Do you know what one of them is planning to do right now?”

Adrenaline and panic pulsed through Telemachus' veins.

“Sh–. No, no, no. . .Athena. . .What’s going on?! Tell me straight, skip the riddles! Is my mom safe? Am I safe?”

“You should hurry.”

“What? Where? Tell me what’s going on! Will I make it in time?!”

“Go back to your home. Run!”

Telemachus took off, skidding down the hill with the pup in his arms, horrible scenarios racing through his mind. This was all his fault. He had let them take advantage of his stupid pride, convinced him to spend the night in the woods in the pouring rain, and leave them all alone in his palace. . .no, no, no. He couldn't end up like the tiny orphan wolf that he held by his chest as he ran. Antinous couldn’t have come up with this plan, right? He wasn't that bad was he? He had some respect still, didn't he? He probably wouldn't have come up with such an elaborate plan on his own, perhaps it had been Eurymachus' idea. Whatever this plan was, if it worked, it probably wouldn't matter whose it had been.

He skidded through the gardens and climbed through his window, clambering into his room. He shook water from his hair quickly and set the shivering wolf puppy on his bed, wrapping the muddy wet animal up in his blankets. He opened the door and peeked out into the hall. The palace was eerily silent. Where were the servants? And the guards? He quickly hurried down to his mother's bedroom (why was the door open?!) and froze.

His mother stood over a body, breathing hard and looking furious and frightened. The man at her feet clutched at his bleeding throat, rasping hoarsely in vain before the breath left him forever and he stopped moving. His mother looked shaken, in a way Telemachus had never seen before. She held a bloodied knife in her hand and had a cold look in her eye. He rushed in and gently pried the knife from her hands, setting it on the bed and pushing the wretched man's body away with his foot.

“What happened, mom? Are you okay, what-”

“I'm fine, Tele. . .But I'm glad you're here. . .”

She hugged him tightly and kissed the top of his head. He could feel her trembling slightly and he could hear their two heartbeats racing in parallel.

“Which suitor was it?” Telemachus asked weakly.

“I did not know his name, and unsurprisingly he did not seem to care to introduce himself before trying to take what he wanted. I'm surprised he made it so far, we should ramp up security. . .” She mused vaguely, picking up the knife and cleaning it on her dress before slipping it into its ornate sheath (truly an excellent wedding gift from Odysseus).

“I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you, I should have been here, I should have-”

“Telemachus, I sleep with a knife by my bedside; I'm not a stranger to risk. I am safe. You are safe. It's all okay.”

She stared at the dark gardens outside and leaned on the window sill for a moment before speaking again.

“I always thought Helen was just playing with boys when she had so many suitors, but. . .I suppose I never realised the power struggle she was navigating. I didn't realise that she could have been in real danger until now. . .Perhaps I shouldn't have been so harsh on her when we were young.”

Telemachus nodded at his mother’s retrospective thinking and worriedly glanced at the bloody mess of a person on the ground.

“Um, that's great Mother, but. . .what do we do with a dead body. . .?”

Penelope glanced back, as if she had forgotten to throw out a piece of trash.

“Oh, just cut off his head, display it in the courtyard, toss the body in the ocean. Send a message.”

Telemachus stared blankly at his mother. Why was everyone telling him things to try and get him to throw up and cry today? First Antinous, then Athena, now his own mother. . .

“Mom, you know that his family will not take that well at all-”

“Hmm, I did teach you the political side well, didn't I. Fine, give his body back to the family. But he tried to assault the queen of Ithaca, and he deserves no mercy more than burial. I hope he suffers in Tartarus. . .”

Telemachus nodded, slightly terrified of his mother for half a moment, though he couldn’t disagree with the sentiment.

“Right. . .I'll take it outside and get a servant to come clean this mess up so you can go back to sleep. . .”

Telemachus sighed and lugged the dead body out into the courtyard, laying it on one of the tables in the main hall. He hated even touching such a heavy, cold, dead thing. The man disgusted him, alive or dead. He was glad Athena's warnings hadn't come to their worst conclusion and that his mother could defend herself. He had never been more glad for the ruthless and violent instincts his mother had learned in her younger days in Sparta. What if his mother had not been who she is? What could have come to pass because of his reckless need to prove himself? He scrubbed the blood from his hands and walked back to his room, still shaken up and feeling tired and sick.

He was still muddy and cold and wet and beginning to remember the scrape on his leg but its occasional aching sting. He found the tiny wolf sleeping contentedly on his bed and suddenly realised he had almost forgotten it in all the drama.

Oh yeah. Orphan wolf pup. Right. And it was probably hungry. . .Telemachus ran down to the kitchen and grabbed a small jug of milk and a bowl. It seemed confused with the bowl but Telemachus eventually managed to get a little milk into the tiny beast with his finger and a damp rag. When it finally fell asleep Telemachus sighed and cleared the clutter off his bed. Too tired to clean himself up properly, he flopped down on the bed, pulling the small pile of fur closer to him as his own bedraggled tail wagged slowly.

“Come here, little guy. . .don’t hog the blankets. . .”

Chapter Text

Telemachus sat at the breakfast table, arms crossed. The other suitors sat, hardly touching their food, staring at the dead body on the table. This was probably not how they envisioned their day going. Telemachus stood up and cleared his throat.

“Last night I was challenged to spend the night in the woods, and one of you took advantage of my absence in order to force their way into the queen's quarters and attempt to, I can only assume, take advantage of her.”

Telemachus pointed to the dead man, his eyes cold and angry.

“This is a f@£&ING warning to all of you!”

Antinous looked up from his untouched plate, surprised that Telemachus was speaking so boldly and loudly. The prince almost seemed like an actual prince and not a weak little boy. He didn't like that much.

“If I find out that any of you knew about this plan, allowed it to happen, or assisted this man in his efforts, I will personally cut off your head and throw your body in the sea. Tell this man's family to come collect the body, unless one of you wants the corpse, you sick dogs...”

Telemachus turned and left, starting to get strangely dizzy as he got worked up. He felt bitterly pleased with the way the suitors had all looked slightly scared of him. They needed to learn some respect for him. He quickly pushed any feelings of pride away, finding them soon replaced with disgust, anger, and overall: exhaustion. He hated the death that seemed to haunt the hall now. It made him feel uncomfortable, and he felt very tired right now after the long night. Antinous ran up behind him quickly, grabbing his arm in a painful grip.

“Telemachus, I had nothing to do with this-”

Telemachus pulled his arm free and Antinous grumbled angrily, jogging to catch up to the prince as he walked away.

“Seriously, Telemachus! I'm not lying to you!”

“You better pray to the gods that you aren't. I wish I could believe you, Antinous, but I just can't afford to trust you right now.”

Telemachus' breath hitched and he coughed slightly, covering his mouth with the crook of his arm briefly.

“It wasn’t my damn fault!” Antinous yelled.

“Antinous, you have always been a little bit of a jerk and a liar and you know that I can’t-”

Telemachus tried to finish what he was saying but found himself overtaken by a furious coughing fit, unable to stop this time. He wheezed until he was out of breath, and leaned on the wall for support. He began to feel slightly dizzy. Antinous froze, unsure of what to do, and after a moment of panic and deliberation, ran from Telemachus’ side. Telemachus barely noticed, feeling too weak to call for help. Telemachus couldn’t stop hacking up his guts, and by the time he finally got half a breath into his lungs he found himself sitting on the floor: leaning against the wall. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he had thrown up as his heavy coughing led to gagging and heaving up his breakfast. His head ached and his ribs hurt with every labored and wheezy breath. He had been just fine twenty minutes ago, what in the world had happened?

He eventually found himself back in his bed, though he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there, curled up in a blanket and shivering. A servant brought him something warm to drink but it tasted awful and Telemachus refused to drink more. His mother came in after some time and tried to soothe his burning fever and ease his confusion.

“You were out in that awful rain storm yesterday, and then we had that whole mess last night. . . .You must have just been really tired and gotten sick. . .”

She pulled the blankets up and tucked him into bed more but Telemachus groaned and tried to pull away.

“It's too warm, mom. . .”

“I know. . .just try and bear it. . .you’ll get better. Promise. We’ll be fine. . .”

She forced him to drink the rest of the bitter drink the servant had left for him.

“I know, I know, it doesn't taste good, but it will keep you from coughing and throwing up more. Just try to rest, dear. . .”

Telemachus curled up under the blankets and deliriously contemplated the taste of the drink in his mouth. His mother sat by his side and sang to him softly until he drifted into a feverish sleep.

— — — — —

Odysseus stared adoringly at his wife. He brushed her dark hair back from her face and leaned his forehead against hers, just relieved to be in her presence. He had made it home at last. Penelope held their infant son in her arms and Odysseus laughed as Telemachus babbled loudly. He held his bent index finger above his son’s small reaching hands for him to play with. Telemachus was just like how Odysseus remembered him, with cute tiny hands, tufts of dark hair on his head, and dark eyes like his mother’s. Odysseus let his head drop to lean on his wife’s shoulder.

“I love you. . .”

Penelope stroked his hair gently for a long time. Odysseus chuckled and finally looked up at her, looking slightly perplexed.

“Dear, why are you so quiet? It's not like you. . .” he said softly.

Penelope looked confused and a little taken back, but didn’t speak, simply pulling Odysseus into her embrace and kissing him gently.

“Penelope. . .” Odysseus sighed happily and melted into her warmth.

He winced as a painfully bright light began to join the pleasant warmth. He looked up and winced as burning sunlight shone in his eyes. He looked back over to Penelope but saw just a pile of rocks, coconuts, and leaves. The crab that had been sitting on top of the pile scuttled off grumpily.

“No, no, no-”

He sobbed desperately and dug through the pile of rocks, throwing aside the coconut that had been Telemachus. He paused, getting déjà vu from something. He brushed it off and went back to trying to gather the random objects together again.

“Where did you go?! No! Please come back, Penelopeeeee. . .”

He broke down into tears, holding a large leaf tightly in his hands. Calypso sat on a large rock a small ways up the beach, sunbathing, and occasionally glancing at the insane man the gods had abandoned her with. Good gods, Odysseus was losing his mind. She called to him casually in between sips from a drink.

“Dear, I think you should drink some water and come out of the sun for a bit, you’ve been sitting there talking to nobody for hours.”

“I’m not talking to myself! And I’m not drinking water ever again!” he yelled, trying to grab the escaped crab as it scuttled down the beach.

“And why is that, Ody. . .?” she asked wearily.

“He controls water, Calypso! Maybe he is water. . .maybe we’ve been drinking Poseidon this whole time! Maybe he’s just waiting for the perfect time to strike-”

Calypso groaned and set her drink down. Did he have to be so traumatized and sad and paranoid? It was ruining her mood today.

“Or maybe he totally forgot about you and you can just drink water because you need it to freaking live!” she yelled.

“Why would I want to freaking live!?” he shouted back like an idiot.

Calypso groaned and shook her head. Why did such a hot guy have to be so idiotic and pathetic?

“Odysseus, you're going insane again. Calm down,” she said dismissively as she picked up and sipped from her drink again.

“Penelope used to call me Odysseus. . .” he grumbled, staring at the ground.

“Oh for Hermes’ sake- That’s because it’s your f@#$ing name!”

Odysseus finally reluctantly surrendered to her wishes and went to a shadier spot, where he faceplanted into the sandy dirt and passed out for a few hours. Like a totally normal and sane person.

“Why, Zeus? Why do you always send the most messed up people to get marooned on my island?” Calypso wondered.

— — — — —

Telemachus rolled over, tugging at his blankets in a weak panic. He could feel his mother holding him gently and trying to calm him down with soothing words, but he felt too delirious to understand anything. He had just seen the strangest visions. . .and was that strange man on the island. . .really his father. . .? Was his fevered mind just making things up now, or was he glimpsing into another part of the world? Were they visions of the past, the present, or the future?

“Mom, I’m a prophet. . .” he slurred with a grin. “There was an island. . .and dad. . .and a little crab. . .”

“Shh. . .calm down, Telemachus, it is going to be okay. . .”

Telemachus finally managed to open his eyes (he thought that he had opened them already, but apparently he had just imagined himself doing it and then forgot to actually do so). His mother looked kind of worried and tired and Telemachus had no idea why. He saw Athena standing behind his mother and smiled slightly. Athena smiled back hesitantly so that it looked more like a cringe. Telemachus settled back into the blankets contentedly.

“I know mom. . .Athena’s here. . .we’ll be fine. . .”

“What are you talking about, Tele? Oh, nevermind. . .” Penelope sighed, her brow furrowed with anxiety.

“Are you hungry or do you need some water? You’ve been tossing and turning for hours now. . .”

Telemachus shook his head sleepily and sniffled. His head hurt, but he mostly just felt really tired and his nose was stuffed up.

“Nah, I'm okay, mom. . .Athena. . .remember that ice thing. . .? Is it cold. . .?”

Penelope glanced around in confusion at the empty room.

“Yes, ice is cold. What about it,” Athena replied.

“Dear, just get some more rest, okay? I’ll be back in a little while. Stay in bed!”

Penelope didn’t seem to hear Athena and kissed Telemachus on the forehead, squeezing his hand before leaving. Athena quickly came over to his bedside.

“What the hell do you want ice for, kid?”

“I wanna stick it on my face. It’s too warm in here,” he mumbled.

“That’s because you have a fever, idiot. Oh my Dad, it’s like you’re drunk all over again. . .”

Athena conjured a piece of ice and wrapped it in a shimmering cloth. She set it on Telemachus’ forehead and he shuddered in relief.

“There. It shouldn’t melt anytime soon with my enchantments on it. Apparently running through the woods in a rain storm is not good for your health, who would have thought?”

She glared judgmentally at Telemachus until he noticed her gaze and grinned apologetically. She sighed and continued.

“If you are still confused about what’s going on: you threw up and collapsed in the hall this morning, and you’ve been feverish and delirious all day. Your mother is freaking out by the way! I’ve never seen her so snappy and stressed.”

Telemachus was rather slow on processing right now.

“Wait, this morning. . .? That’s a long time. . .all day. . .Where's the wolf?! Doesn't he need to get fed?!”

He sat up quickly in a panic, the ice pack falling into his hands. Athena shoved him back down with one hand.

“I gave it to a servant to feed, don’t worry, it’s still alive. Probably doing better than you right now, actually.”

“O-okay. . .good. . .just make sure he’s okay. . .”

“He's resting just fine. I know another little wolf who needs sleep though. . .”

“Who's that?”

Athena sighed and flicked Telemachus' forehead.

“Hey! What was that. . . for. . .”

He yawned and sank into his blankets until he was comfortable, slowly drifting into an enchanted sleep.

The next morning Telemachus woke up late and drank the warm broth a servant brought him. Athena's magical ice pack had vanished, but he felt much better. He was still a bit shaky and his skin felt hot and prickly, but he was pretty sure his fever had mostly broken at some point during the night.

His mother smelled vaguely like incense when she came in and she looked very relieved at his improved condition. Telemachus assumed she had been praying for him. Based on the dark circles under her eyes: all night.

“Hey mom. . .”

He sniffled, his nose still being very stuffed up, and his head still hurting slightly. His mother hugged him and kissed his hair.

“Don't ever do that again Tele,” she reprimanded weakly and tugged on one of his wolf ears.

“Do what?” he asked with a laugh.

“Scare me like that.”

“I won't. . .” he promised and shook his head like a grumpy puppy.

His mother grabbed a comb and slowly brushed his hair out, gently untangling it.

“And if those jerks ever try to get you to do something like spending the night in the rain-”

“I've learned my lesson. I shouldn't need to defend my own pride like that. And certainly not at the expense of your safety. . .”

She hugged him tightly and Telemachus knew that she had been terrified for him this past day and night. But he was here now, and he was getting better. He was going to be here for his mother, no matter how difficult that may be at times.

Chapter Text

If Telemachus had learned he didn't need to defend his own honor, he certainly hadn't learned what to do when his mother's honor needed defending.

He had been walking through one of the inner courtyards of the palace in late summer, seventeen by now, enjoying the warm evening and the slight breeze, when he overheard one of the suitors make a crude remark about his mother.

What was he supposed to do? Ignore it and move on with his life? Why would he do that?

He proceeded to find himself in a messy fistfight with a boy who was six years older than him, a head taller than him, and a whole lot bigger than him. Telemachus barely noticed Antinous snickering as he watched, Eurymachus rolling his eyes, or Amphinomus trying to calm people down. He was in a life or death situation here! His ears rang as the guy punched him in the side of the head and he stumbled slightly. He blindly punched back, missed, and stumbled into another suitor who turned him around and shoved him back towards his opponent.

The punching soon dissolved into clumsy grappling as lots of fights do. Telemachus managed to get a hold of the man's arm and bit down hard until he drew blood. The man yelled in pain and shook Telemachus off with a hit to the head. He was pretty sure the person roaring with laughter in the background was Antinous, but he couldn't tell through his hazy vision. What was that lesson Antinous had taught him all those years ago? Protect the face or something? He tried to raise his arms in front of his head but couldn't move them fast enough. A fist hit him in the eye, hard. His vision blacked out for what seemed like forever, and when he came back to the waking world, all he got was a kick in the gut. The suitor moved away, losing interest in the pathetic crying prince, and Telemachus finally pushed himself to his knees with a weak groan. Was he bleeding? Everything hurt horribly and he couldn't figure out if his head was still attached to him or not. He felt warm blood trickle from his nose and mouth and dabbed his face with his hand. It came away bloody. He gagged at the sight of so much blood, his vision blurring and his lungs struggling to keep up as fear coursed through him. Antinous, whom he had once considered as a friend, was nowhere to be found. Even the palace servants had stayed out of the way of the fight. Telemachus was left on the ground, bleeding and in pain, and no one seemed to care.

What had just happened? He needed to get away from here, his mother would kill him herself if she saw him with such a busted up face and no victory to boast about. He stumbled from the courtyard and ran down the lonely forest path to Eumaios' hut. He felt like a coward.

Eumaios said nothing to Telemachus when he answered the door and Telemachus sat down by the hearth with the two dogs, Xander and Orion. Erastus glanced at Telemachus and then at Eumaios, then sat down beside the prince with a bowl of water and a piece of cloth.

Telemachus tucked his knees to his chest and his ears went down under his hat. Honestly, the fact that his opponent hadn't seen his wolf parts was as miraculous as his survival here. Perhaps Athena had helped him. Perhaps it was just luck. Telemachus didn't care right now.

"I don't need help, Erastus,” he mumbled, sniffling back tears.

Erastus ignored him and began wiping blood and dirt from Telemachus' face with a gentle hand. He wasn’t sure how to make Telemachus feel better.

“Did you win? Or at least get a few good hits in?” he asked hopefully.

Telemachus shook his head and took note of the fact that his friend didn't even have to ask to know how he had gotten these injuries. His fights were becoming so normal that, of course, who else would his bloody knuckles and busted nose come from except the suitors? Why did his life have to be so messed up?

“No, I got beaten very badly and now everything hurts and they think they're all so awesome. . .”

“Well, you’ll get 'em next time…” Erastus said as an attempt at encouragement.

“I might not survive a next time,” Telemachus whispered.

Eumaios frowned slightly as he listened to the two boys talk from the other side of the room. Where was the hopeful prince he had known? Where was the endlessly optimistic little wolf he had tried to help raise? Perhaps Telemachus was just having a rough time right now. His fights with the suitors were becoming more frequent and more violent and Telemachus probably didn’t feel safe in his own home right now. Eumaios hoped that his home could provide a shelter for Telemachus to feel secure in.

— — — — —

Autumn had passed, winter came, and Telemachus was eighteen years old now. One particular rainy evening he found himself sitting by Eumaios' fire in the same way he had done months before. The familiar place had always been his haven from the suitors, closer to a home than his own house. He held the orphaned wolf pup in his lap as it napped happily. It had managed to survive, and was getting pretty big after nearly a year and a half of being spoiled by Telemachus. It was as friendly as any other dog, even if it looked like a wolf. Eumaios had been surprised by the orphan whelp’s lightning-quick growth and named it Epizón, meaning ‘survivor’. Erastus was still a bit skittish in the wolf’s presence, but after living with Eumaios’ dogs, and dealing with frequent visits from Telemachus and Epizón both, he was beginning to get used to the presence of annoying puppy dogs.

“Telemachus, what do you do when you really like a girl?” Erastus asked randomly as he sat down beside Telemachus and gingerly reached out to pet Epizón’s head.

Telemachus smiled as Epizón chuffed sleepily, startling Erastus who retracted his hand quickly.

“I don't really know,” Telemachus said. “I mean, how much do you like them?”

“A lot. More than my own self. So much that I would want to marry them, maybe. . .”

Telemachus sat up straight and looked over at him in surprise.

“Marry?! Really?”

Erastus nodded with a bashful smile and diverted his gaze from Telemachus to stare into the fire.

“Yeah. I wanna marry her.”

Telemachus sank back down a little and tucked his tail to the side of him so he wasn't sitting on it. Epizón whined sleepily in complaint at the slight shift of his cuddle spot.

“Oh. . .I. . .I suppose you have to ask her if she wants to marry you, and talk to her father and whatnot.”

Erastus' face twisted into a thoughtful frown.

“Alexandra doesn't have a father, not one that’s here that I can ask anyways. . .and I don't know if she has any other male relatives nearby. . .should I ask her mother then?”

“Probably. It would make sense, I think.”

“I'll do that then.”

Telemachus wondered about the fact that Erastus would have to be able to provide for himself and his potential bride to even be considered as a legitimate suitor. Could Erastus earn enough for a wife and himself on his own? And when had Erastus grown up so much? Telemachus still felt like a little kid, and here was his friend, wanting to get married to a girl he loved. Telemachus was happy if Erastus was happy though, and he definitely wouldn't try to get in his friend’s way. (But if his friend was really going to get married, Telemachus might need to do some behind the scenes work to make it all come together properly. . .)

“And would you keep living here? I don't know if Eumaios would like having so many people live here.”

“I could build my own house somewhere.”

Telemachus nodded, mulling over the idea in his head for a moment.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Erastus smiled and hugged Telemachus. Telemachus rubbed his friend's shoulder and buried his nose in Erastus’ curly hair with a kiss. He suddenly realised he loved Erastus. He had been loving Erastus this whole time, but somehow he hadn’t truly understood it or noticed it until this moment. He knew that Erastus loved Alexandra. She made Erastus beyond delighted, and that's really all Telemachus wanted for his Beloved. So he was going to make this work out for Erastus, even if it meant giving up anything that had been or could have been between them.

— — — — —

His knock was soft but steady against the wooden door. Alexandra answered and Telemachus felt sorry to see the glimmer of excitement die in her eyes as she recognized him. She'd probably been expecting Erastus.

“Can I speak to your mother?”

He glanced down as he twisted the signet ring on his finger slightly.

“Did I do something wrong, did my mother-”

“No! No, I just wanted to ask her something. Don't worry. It’s nothing bad. I promise.”

He smiled weakly and she reluctantly went and called her mother to the door. Alexandra's mother looked rather tired, holding a babbling toddler on her hip, as she came to the door and waved Alexandra away.

“To what do I owe the honor?” she asked rather wearily as the toddler squirmed happily in her arms.

“I'm here to talk about Erastus,” Telemachus said carefully, unsure what Alexandra’s mother thought about his friend.

Her face stayed carefully neutral, equally uncertain about what the prince had to do with her daughter’s boyfriend.

“What about him? He's a nice young man.”

“Yes! Yes, I know he is. . .he um. . .told me that. . .how do I say this? Do you think Alexandra is old enough to marry? I mean would you let her? If the right person came along?”

“I. . .Look, we don't have money for a dowry, and after Polites didn't come back, we haven't exactly been a stable household. I need Alexandra's help around the house to do, well, everything, and-. . .These things are complicated, Telemachus. . .”

She sighed and Telemachus nodded. She handed the toddler to Telemachus who bounced the kid up and down in his arms as she hung up laundry in the courtyard.

“Erastus wants to marry her.”

“I know.”

“I assumed so. What would you say if he asked?”

“I don't know.”

She shook a sheet aggressively and hung it over the clothesline. Telemachus let the little kid nibble on one of his fingers. The toddler's teeth were so dull compared to his own that it barely hurt him. An idea struck him.

“What if they didn’t move out? What if they stayed here? I mean, Erastus could marry her and they could both live here and help support you. Erastus could get a job in town somewhere and Alexandra could keep helping you around the house. And I can pay you if you need money for anything. Any agreement he asks for, give it to him, and I'll provide for any gaps that he can’t. . .just please say yes?”

She had been silent while he grasped for a solution.

“I'll give him a chance then. . .it's not a bad idea, I suppose. She does like him.”

She smiled fondly and briefly touched her wedding ring.

“Who am I kidding, she doesn’t just like him, she loves him. When you love someone it's visible, y'know? Like a bit of sunshine came into your room. I suppose I haven't seen that in a while. . .”

Telemachus nodded, thinking about that for a long time as he watched sunlight filter through overhanging tree branches and drying laundry, speckling the ground like little shifting gems.

— — — — —

Telemachus was not expecting to get tackled on this fine sunny spring day, but here he was, on the ground, with Erastus grinning above him. He had been walking up towards Eumaios' house when Erastus had catapulted down the dirt path and crashed into him, a wild grin on his face.

“SHE SAID YES, TELE, SHE SAID YES!”

Telemachus flashed his sharp teeth in a smile, pushing Erastus off him gently.

“I knew she would!” He laughed.

Erastus' face was nearly glowing, and he looked so happy that Telemachus would have thought he was about to cry.

“I’M GONNA GET MARRIED, OH GODS, I’M GONNA-”

Telemachus got up, pulling his friend up with him and gripping his hand tightly to steady the other boy who looked about ready to pass out. Erastus couldn't stop smiling and looked terribly nervous and ecstatic. Erastus dragged Telemachus through the fields and forest and set about picking bunches of flowers to give Alexandra. Telemachus held the picked flowers as Erastus gathered more and handed them to him. He watched Eumaios’ love-struck antics and silently enjoyed his friend's euphoria. What should he get his two friends as a wedding gift? Wait a moment.

Hah. He had a great idea.

— — — — —

“So, Alexandra, how do you feel about pets?”

Telemachus stood in the courtyard outside Alexandra’s house with a mischievous grin, Epizón barking happily at his side. Alexandra snickered and crouched down to scratch behind Epizón’s ears.

Chapter Text

Snow had slipped off the mountains of Ithaca and early spring flowers were finally peeking up through the hard soil and last frosts. Telemachus knelt briefly to pluck a handful of daffodils from a small group of plants sprouting from under a larger bush. He admired their yellow glory for a moment before continuing his hike through the hilly forests and meadows. Erastus was getting married today, and he was damn well gonna look his best for it! But before he went home to get ready for the event, he stopped by Alexandra's house in town and gave her the bright flowers with a smile. He had no use for their beauty, and he was pretty sure girls liked flowers. Alexandra blushed happily and accepted them and they talked briefly about pre-wedding nerves before Telemachus left and continued his way to the palace. He slipped through the suitors feasting in his halls. For once he couldn't be bothered by their presence. Their noise couldn't bring him down today.

He poured himself a hot bath and let himself soak for a long time in the warm water, just thinking. He still felt like a little kid half the time, albeit one burdened with responsibility, but a kid nonetheless. He still felt so young for all this. . .. Erastus was a bit older than him, sure, and Telemachus was glad that his friend was marrying the girl he loved, but the whole thing still felt so surreal to him. He finally pulled himself from the water and dried himself with a towel, shaking the water from his wolf ears and hair like a puppy.

Argos napped on a rug in his room as Epizón chewed on one of Telemachus' sandals and pestered the old dog. Epizón was about a year and a half old by now, and getting really quite large. He was very obviously not a dog and he scared the servants whenever Telemachus played with him outside, even though he was as friendly as could be. Argos on the other hand was getting a bit older and seemed to have slowed down a bit compared to his younger years. He still followed Telemachus around sometimes but now he spent the majority of his time napping in Telemachus' room or office. Basically, Epizón looked like a giant puppy and Argos looked like a weary old man.

Telemachus selected a pale blue chiton and a dark indigo sash which he tucked into his belt. It took a while to wrestle his sandals from Epizón’s strong jaws, but Telemachus finally managed it and tied them onto his feet, wiping off the wolf slobber with a sigh. He brushed his hair carefully and pinned his ears down as tightly as he could. He didn't want to have to wear a hat to his friend's wedding, so he would need to figure something else out that would conceal his ears. He finally found some budding branches and twisted them into a leafy, flowery, crown. That could work quite nicely. . .

— — — — —

He arrived a little early and cheerfully helped Erastus set up decorations and haul food around. Alexandra protested vehemently to him helping her mother with the food, but Telemachus insisted. He refused to let the bride do all the work to prepare for her special day. Absolutely unacceptable. She should be getting ready for the ceremony, not cutting cucumbers and baking bread. Erastus was practically on the verge of singing (or passing out from excitement) and kept trying to come inside and see Alexandra whenever he finished a task. Alexandra's mother and Telemachus playfully shooed him away, denouncing his seeing Alexandra before the ceremony as bad luck on the wedding day. Telemachus finished putting fresh flowers on some tables and went to find Alexandra. He knocked softly on her door and she let him in. He sat down beside her on her bed and helped braid her curly hair with ribbons. He had practiced braiding with his mother's spare threads when she tried to teach him weaving as a kid, and he had gotten relatively good at the skill over the years.

“Are you excited?” he asked.

“Yes, terrified. But in a good way?”

Her voice sounded shaky and Telemachus finished braiding, setting her hair down and drawing his hands back into his lap.

“Are you having second thoughts or something?”

“No, I mean, yes? No. I don't know. I love him, I do, it's just a lot of change, you know?”

“You'll be fine. I know it. He's a great guy.”

She nodded and laughed awkwardly.

“I know.”

She smiled softly and pushed her glasses up on her nose.

“Alright, well… we have lots more to do today! Now get out!” she giggled. “I need to change before tonight.”

Telemachus gladly obeyed.

— — — — —

The sun was going down and people started arriving. It was a small ceremony (but the prince himself was there, so clearly it was somewhat important). Alexandra was beautiful, with nearly perfect makeup painted on her soft cheeks and wearing a lovingly embroidered red dress. Her hair fell across her face a little, and her glasses kept slipping down her nose when she laughed. Erastus' dark curls had been tamed somewhat as well and Telemachus had given him a few golden trinkets as an early wedding gift so he would have them for the ceremony. Alexandra was beautiful, Erastus was handsome, and they both looked happy and a little nervous.

Telemachus hardly remembered the ceremony, and only seemed to remember himself as he stood and toasted his friend's matrimony afterwards. The food was simple but delicious and the wine flowed freely long into the night. Telemachus sat beside the newlyweds, sipping a cup of wine (a bit stronger than he usually drank) and sleepily watching drunk guests do dumb things. He may have kissed Erastus and gotten gently reprimanded by Alexandra. Everyone else was soooo dumb, seriously.

The next day feasting resumed again and Telemachus began to enjoy himself for the first time in a long time. He watched blood flow from the veins of animals sacrificed to the gods and mused over wine poured from cups as libations to Hera, Artemis, and Aphrodite. He watched Erastus lead his wife in a clumsy dance and catch her when she tripped, laughing like her stumble was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Erastus looked at his bride so fondly that Telemachus couldn't even start to make himself feel bitter about it. Erastus was happy. And so he was too.

Telemachus noticed that his cousins had come to the wedding, their parents having known Alexandra's father, and went over to greet them. He said hello to Nysa and her husband and even got to hold Nysa’s most recent baby for a while. The little thing was absolutely adorable, and while Telemachus thought Nysa's husband was a little unimpressive, he seemed like a decent man. Kimon stayed nearby, just watching them. He had grown up a lot, now in his twenties, and still unmarried. Apparently he was pursuing business in cattle or something, though Telemachus still didn't understand what that job meant exactly. Kimon, as an awkward attempt to make conversation with Telemachus, made a few backhanded comments about the bride and groom.

“Y’know, I heard the guy used to be a slave!” his cousin laughed and took a drink of wine.

Telemachus frowned, “That's just a dumb rumor.”

“Then where did he come from, Telemachus? Do you know? And is he really worthy of our father's friend's daughter?”

“If the relation takes you that long to say it's not close enough for you to care. Where he came from is none of your business. He's honest, kind, and he works very hard. Of course he's worthy of Alexandra. Now shut up and let the newlyweds be happy, they don't need your dumb rumors screwing up their lives.”

Nysa wheezed a laugh at seeing Telemachus outwit her brother easily, and had to pretend she was coughing when her husband looked at her awkwardly. Kimon threw his hands up in surrender and didn't touch on the topic anymore, which satisfied Telemachus' lingering irritation with him. He got them seats and then returned to his seat with Erastus and Alexandra to laugh over stupid jokes.

— — — — —

The next morning he walked back to their house from the palace, Epizón trailing at his side happily. Telemachus was going to miss his wild friend.

Alexandra opened the door and smirked, inviting him in. Erastus looked up from what he was doing and his eyes narrowed at Epizón.

“Telemachus. . .please tell me what a wolf is doing in my house?”

Telemachus pretended to be offended, “What, I'm not allowed in your house now?”

Erastus was apparently not in the mood for jokes. He stood up, his voice reflecting his nerves.

“You know I'm talking about the actual wolf! Why is there a wolf in my house? Why is this my life? Alexandra, please don't tell me you were in on this. . .”

Telemachus laughed and petted Epizón, patting his side and nudging him towards Erastus. Epizón happily wandered over and sniffed at Erastus, tail wagging. Erastus held very, very still, and looked like the strangest mix of a frightened rabbit and an angry bull.

“Dear, it's a wedding gift from a prince, I think it would be a little rude to turn it down, no?” Alexandra teased her husband.

Erastus scowled grumpily and reluctantly sat back down in his chair. Epizón followed him and laid down on his feet, looking up at him with puppy eyes. . .or wolf puppy eyes, at least. Erastus was the most annoyed person alive for about an hour, but by the time Telemachus finally left their house Erastus was letting the giant beast lick his face and sleep on his lap. Telemachus had seen Erastus trying to hide that grin on his face when he scratched Epizón behind his ears! It helped relieve his nerves about leaving Epizón with Erastus. He would miss Epizón's presence for certain, but at least he would have a good home.

Chapter Text

Telemachus was having a good day. He had just had a delightful walk in the warm spring weather and a breakfast of fresh fruit from the royal orchards and water from a cold mountain stream. He had then finished up a few trade agreement drafts and spent the rest of the morning reading through a fictional story that his mother used to tell him as a kid. He had been trying to write it all down so he would have a copy of it forever, though he couldn't quite remember all the details now. His head now filled itself with stories of legends and monsters and heroes, and damn, even fantasies about his father and where he could possibly be. What adventures was he having right now? What adventures would Telemachus get to go on when he got older? Would he get to make a name for himself, or would he always be stuck at home defending his mother and waiting for his father to come home?

He wandered cheerfully down the hallways, dodging drunk suitors and servants carrying things and preparing things for lunch. He smiled as he glimpsed his mother walking in an inner courtyard. He smoothly intercepted a suitor trying to sneak into the courtyard and spoke with him briefly (hating the smooth words on his own tongue), carefully guiding the man away from his mother. He wandered through the main hall to get to the kitchen, trying not to get shoved around by the suitors, and trying to ignore the arguments breaking out between them and the various criticisms of himself, his mother, and the long lost king. He didn't see Antinous until he crashed straight into the older boy.

Tensions had increased between him and Antinous recently, and Telemachus had tried to distance himself from him somewhat, hanging out more at Eumaios’ house and with Erastus and Alexandra when he could. Telemachus truly hated being in his own house sometimes. But despite the shadow Antinous cast over his life, and right now quite literally, over him, Telemachus was in a good mood today! His friend had gotten married to the love of his life only a few weeks ago, and he wasn’t going to let a childhood bully bring him down on such a good day. Of course this was only in theory, and Antinous was very determined to make Telemachus cry today.

See, while Telemachus had been having a very good day, Antinous had been having a very, very, bad day.

Antinous had woken up with a very bad hangover, and to combat it, had drunk quite a bit more. Amphinomus had teased him about his messy hair which made Antinous punch him until another suitor pulled him away from the poor guy. Then Antinous had gone to annoy Eurymachus, who responded by throwing a stool at him, and kicking him in the shin. Wandering off like a kicked dog Antinous found himself walking through the streets of Ithaca, trying to make himself look more presentable. He had run into his dad in the marketplace somehow, which was just great.

“Still no luck with the queen? Not surprising, you look like crap.”

Eupeithes barely even looked at his son while talking. Antinous felt hot anger rushing through his veins and nothing else.

Oh gods, thanks dad, always so supportive…

“Nobody can make her decide one way or another. Trust me, I've tried a lot of different methods in the fricking years I've been there,” Antinous snapped.

“If you manage to marry her, you'll be a very powerful man, you understand that, right? Are you not taking this seriously?!”

“I understand that father! When will you fricking listen to me and appreciate me for just being your son?!”

“At the moment, even your little sisters are more worthy of honor than you. You're a disgrace to this family. You live at the palace, get drunk on their wine, behave like a slob, and accomplish nothing to advance your political status! Get your act together, or I don't even want to be your father–”

“Maybe I don't wanna be your son!”

“You’re a big selfish jerk who can't even pull a woman or-!”

Antinous stormed off grumbling swears, ignoring his dad's yelling, and wandered back to the palace. He slumped back down at one of the tables in the main hall, drinking more and listening to other suitors complain about Penelope's disinterest in all of them. He tried to flirt with a maid, hoping for a one night stand to soothe his awful day, but she smacked him pretty hard and ran away.

All in all: a very bad day. And then he saw Telemachus, skipping around like he owned the palace that was rightfully Antinous's, with his head in the clouds and a stupid smile on his face. Hell no. If he was having a bad day then Telemachus should have one too. After all, friends share in each other's suffering, right? And what better way to hurt Telemachus than to expose him in front of all of the suitors. . .?

He stood up, blocking Telemachus' way, and letting the prince crash into him. Telemachus looked up, with an awkward laugh.

“Ah, sorry Antinous, didn't mean to bump into you. . .”

Antinous scowled. This kid was too damn cheerful. He jumped straight to the point, too drunk and angry to be even vaguely subtle.

“When's your tramp of a mother gonna finally stop playing with us and choose a new husband?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, why don't you unlock her door one night and let us have a little fun? Won't touch you, I promise!”

He vaguely enjoyed the way Telemachus' face went red with shock and then anger.

“How. . .how dare you insult my mother like that! She will never, ever, love one of you, and don't you dare call her a tramp when you lot are just stealing all our food and-”

“Well, I did. I did call her a tramp. Maybe I'll do it again, just for funsies~ What are you gonna do about it, little wolf?”

Telemachus stood there, fuming, not even aware of the other suitors perking up at the signs of a potential fight and gathering nearer around him and Antinous. He tried to take a deep breath and step back. This was dumb. He wasn't going to fight Antinous over something this stupid. He was going to behave like a responsible adult. He turned around and took a few steps away, but Antinous's voice rang out loudly behind him.

“Ha, coward! Just like your bastard daddy that never came home!”

Hell no.

Telemachus turned and leapt at Antinous in the blink of an eye. Antinous managed to ward off his initial attack and use the prince's weight against him, shoving him past and leaving him unsteady on his feet. Antinous stood there, catching his breath and looking surprised at Telemachus' sudden aggression. Then he smiled crookedly and spoke.

“There you go~ Fight me, little wolf.”

Telemachus had been in this position a couple of times before, but never directly against Antinous, or at least never with Antinous looking so cruel and angry. He could feel the other suitors crowding around and jeering and yelling but all he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He threw a punch but Antinous blocked it and hit him in the face, stepping back and laughing as Telemachus reeled back and tasted blood on his lips.

“Come on! I thought you wanted to fight! So at least try. Entertain us.”

Telemachus threw two more punches, both of which Antinous dodged.

“You wanna be a man so bad? Then fight!”

Antinous kicked him brutally in the leg, bringing him to one knee with a gasp of pain.

“You made a pretty bad mistake, Wolfy. It might even be your last one! Don't you get it? YOU DON'T CHALLENGE ME. YOU DON'T FIGHT BACK. And I'm going to break every bone in your body until you either get that through your stupid brain or die!”

Telemachus tried to spin out his leg and trip Antinous but Antinous just landed a well aimed kick at his gut and sent him sprawling across the floor. Antinous chuckled and it sent shivers down Telemachus' spine. He could feel his heart racing, his breath rattling in his ribs, and pain shooting through his body at concerning rates.

“I'll teach you what that b**** Odysseus never could: The world doesn't give you everything you want just because you do a couple good things!”

Telemachus scrambled back to his feet in time to barely dodge Antinous's attempted tackle and crash into another suitor. The suitor shoved Telemachus back into the fight.

“Running like a coward now? Fight me, little wolf. Come on. Hit me properly. Do it. You know you want tooooo…”

Antinous went in for what looked like a punch and Telemachus quickly threw up his hands to protect his face. Antinous faked out, grabbed one of Telemachus' arms, swung him around, and yanked him backwards into his chest in a chokehold, with his arm twisted behind his back painfully. Telemachus yelped in pain and struggled desperately.

“Antinous let me go! I'll bite through your arm if you don't-” He hissed desperately.

Antinous snickered softly and leaned down to whisper in Telemachus' ear.

“Fine, go ahead. Let them all know what you are. . .”

Telemachus froze for half a second. Antinous was trying to make him show his wolfish aspects. . .to everyone?! That's why he kept calling him little wolf! But, why? What had Telemachus done to deserve such a cruel attack?

“Do it. Bite me. Show them all what a dangerous animal you are. . .”

Whatever Antinous had been expecting, it probably wasn't that Telemachus would actually bite him. But Telemachus couldn't think of anything else to get out of this excruciating position. So he sank his canines deep into Antinous's arm, nearly reaching bone, before Antinous reacted and let him go, shoving him away. Antinous was practically foaming at the mouth now, wiping blood from his injured arm. The wound looked like it must be simply excruciating, and Telemachus felt a little guilty, but then Antinous punched him so hard in the gut that Telemachus was almost certain his ribs were shattering.

Telemachus tried to get air back into his lungs but Antinous was already there and ready and everywhere Telemachus looked. He bashed Telemachus repeatedly until all he could see were blurry red shapes. Antinous lifted him slightly off the ground and threw him backwards towards a wall. But right before he hit the solid stone, he felt time and sound slow around him. The shouts of the suitors slowed to a strange and nearly inaudible hum; the sound of human speech warped beyond recognition. Antinous seemed to be frozen in place, his arm swung out in mid-throw. An expression of rage and pain contorted his features as much as all the sound was distorted in the moment. Telemachus slowly put his feet down on the ground and leaned against the wall; deeply confused.

“Need some help?” a familiar voice said from somewhere close by.

Telemachus spun around and saw his red-haired and silver-eyed friend leaning on a spear with a smirk. Telemachus laughed in disbelief.

“What is going on right now-”

“You just gonna stand around and let him hit you? Fight back!” she urged.

“I don't know how to!” Telemachus protested weakly.

Athena rolled her eyes and stood next to Telemachus, pulling his arms up into position and then showing him what she wanted him to do with her own hands.

“Punch him in the face, like this, don't tuck your thumb in. . .”

Telemachus threw his fisted hand out and hit Antinous under the jaw, making the man go flying back in slow motion. Telemachus stepped back awkwardly with an flustered grin.

“Woah. . .I really did that?! Is time going slow?”

“I mean, not exactly, I just sped up your thoughts a bit.”

“That is so cool. . .” he sighed.

“Alright, let's try this again,” Athena said, briefly wiping Telemachus' bloody nose with the edge of her cloak.

“What? I'm not ready to-”

Time had restarted, Antinous had landed back on the ground, confused at how he had been hit, and as furious as ever. Even with a goddess at his side, fear trickled back into Telemachus' mind as Antinous charged back at him.

“Y'know I never liked bullies or jerks who do whatever they want. And trust me, I've seen a lot of them in my centuries of life,” Athena mused.

Telemachus could hear the goddess nearby, and could feel her guiding hand helping him dodge and hit and not feel pain, but gods above if he wasn't terrified right now. Antinous was relentless still, and all Telemachus could hear was the suitors shouting and cheering the fight on.

“Let's teach this dog a lesson he won't soon forget, Telemachus. Fight little wolf!”

Telemachus ducked under one of Antinous's punches and hit him in the gut. Antinous tried to grab him but Telemachus had already spun out of his way and kicked him in the leg. Antinous hit him in the side of the head but Telemachus dodged the next strike, even as his vision blurred again from the blow. This was not well orchestrated battle, this was not art, this was a messy brawl for survival, and Telemachus was playing with street rules just as much as Antinous was. Antinous grabbed him by the hair but Telemachus bit his wrist until he let go and shoved him away.

“Come on! Fight!” he could hear other suitors yelling and jeering.

“Don't go down with that! Come on! Keep fighting!” he heard Athena cheer.

Why couldn't she just smite Antinous or something? Why did he have to do everything? A punch caught him off guard and he felt something in his face crack as Antinous's hand met his face. He felt the ground rise to meet him, cold and harsh. He felt hot blood in his mouth as his ears rang.

“Oh, maybe I pushed you too hard…” Athena cringed from somewhere above.

Yeah maybe you did!

“Ow…ugh…” Telemachus groaned shakily and tried to push himself up, his hands slipping weakly on the floor.

Where was Athena?!

Antinous chuckled and dragged him backwards by one ankle. Telemachus tried to kick at him but he was exhausted and in pain. Antinous reached under Telemachus' tunic and dragged him back by his tail. Sharp pain shot up his spine and he twisted desperately, snapping at Antinous's hand with his sharp teeth and a furious howl.

“Let me go! Please! Don't-”

“Look at you~ Such a pathetic little puppy. With a tail and ears to match…”

Telemachus curled up slightly, pulling his tunic down. He wasn't sure how many of the suitors had seen that, but he was fairly sure his secret was out now, and he couldn't care less. He felt weak and hurt and stupid, and he just wanted to run away…

“Go run away then little wolf; go back and cry in your room like a baby…Make sure your mommy knows what happened.”

Antinous crouched down slightly, wiping the blood from his nose with a scowl.

“If she won't choose one of us, both you and her are going to suffer even worse than this,” he hissed.

Telemachus scrambled backwards and to his feet and ran as fast he could back to his room, limping up the stairs with his heart racing. He barricaded himself into his room with his desk and a chair and then curled up under his bed like a wounded wolf to sob.

“Athena, why did you even try to help me…?” he whispered.

Chapter Text

I am so sorry that I have not put up chapters in a while. Hopefully somewhere around Christmas I can finally get the next chapter of this out, as well as several chapters of other works. I keep not having a lot of time to write, or more often, I keep running off to start new projects entirely. I have like seven fic WIPs right now🤦🏻. But I will eventually finish this one I promise!

Chapter Text

Telemachus sniffled away his salty tears and cleared his stinging throat. He finally glanced sideways and found that Athena was laying on her back beside him under the bed. He jumped in surprise and banged his head on the bedframe which made him start crying again. Athena sighed and crawled out from under the bed, dragging him out behind her. (Gently, of course.) She helped him sit down on the bed and got him some water and bandages, then started to help clean his wounds.

“Shh…Telemachus…um…stop…um stop crying, please…?…un-sad! Come on!”

Telemachus giggled a little at her awkward attempts at comfort and wiped at his tears. Athena smiled and handed him one of her magical ice packs to put on his growing bruises.

“Look, to answer your question from before, I had a friend once. . .and he was a lot like you. I tried to help him fight, but he had issues. . .and I had issues too…and we just grew apart, I guess, and I lost track of what happened to him.”

Telemachus nodded, slightly curious, as he pressed the ice to his bruising leg with a wince.

“Maybe if I hadn't screwed it up– he'd be fine, and we'd still be friends. So maybe I thought if I helped out someone else, that it would make my life. . .feel normal again. That it would make my conscience not weigh so heavily on me.”

Telemachus smiled softly, returning to his natural optimism as his pain lessened.

“Athena, I don't know who your friend is, but you don't need to be so hard on yourself. I still had a good day!”

“Telemachus, you have a concussion and a lot of internal bleeding.”

“Heh, I. . .don't know what that is! But I didn't die, Athena. I even fought pretty well there for a second. I don't usually feel that powerful. . .even if it was just for a second. You're my friend and I couldn't ask you for more than that, Athena.”

He grabbed Athena's hand and squeezed it. She stared at him in confusion before slowly pulling her hand away. He let her go without comment.

“Athena, maybe your life didn't go as planned! Maybe you made mistakes that you regret! But I was probably gonna die, and then you helped me out, and then I was crying, and you came to help me feel better. That makes you a good friend, Athena. If you want to make up with your old friend, helping me won't fix anything. But lending him a hand now couldn't make anything worse, right? Better late than never. If you don't do it for the friendship you had with him, then do it for the friendship you have with me. . .?”

Athena stared at him thoughtfully.

“For someone so stupid you truly are wiser than your years, kid. . .”

Telemachus brushed his hair back, feeling much better from the magical ice and the goddess's presence.

“Maybe falling is just how you learn from your mistakes?” he said.

Athena rolled her eyes and replied playfully.

“Yeah, and maybe everything will turn out great.”

“I know we'll be fine,” Telemachus said. “You'll figure it out.”

Athena chuckled, “You're a really good kid, Telemachus.”

Telemachus blushed and wiped blood from his lip.

“Thanks, Athena. That means a lot.”

—

Telemachus had eventually talked to his mother about what had happened with Antinous and his talk with Athena. (It wasn't like he could hide his injuries from her quick eyes for very long anyways.) She was surprised at the mention of his seemingly casual discussions with a literal goddess, but paid attention to all he said. She was furious at the suitors as expected, but after Telemachus had restrained her from killing anyone, she had sunken into deep thought for a long time before coming up with a new plan.

Telemachus now stood at her side as she addressed the suitors in the main hall.

“I know I have been holding out on a decision on remarriage, and I acknowledge your remarkable patience.”

Her words flowed smoothly and Telemachus had no idea how she could speak so sweetly to these awful men. The suitors stirred excitedly. Telemachus grew nervous upon feeling the disgustingly eager energy in the room. He really didn't know how his mother could hold herself with such calm poise in the face of all these terrible people.

“I have come to the decision that I can not, in good conscience, marry a new husband while I still have not made a burial shroud for my father-in-law. He is getting older, and what kind of a daughter would I be if I could not bury him with honor? When I finish weaving a funeral shroud for him, then I will choose a husband.”

She turned without another word and left, leaving the suitors to jump up and begin talking and arguing with each other. It was like throwing a small piece of food to a pack of starving jackals. Telemachus didn't stay long either, not wanting to be caught in all the in-fighting that he knew would break out after such an announcement. They had just been told to wait, again. It had been years. But now they at least had something to look forward to and a set event to wait on: a deadline. It was hope, a shred of hope to keep them divided against each other and weak enough to not unite and take over the kingdom. It might just keep Telemachus and Penelope safe for a little longer.

—

About seven months later Telemachus sat on the grassy hillside, just letting the wind roar past and dance around him. It rustled through his hair and flopped his wolfish ears about wildly. He liked it up here. It was quiet. Peaceful. Nothing like his home, plagued by troublesome suitors.

“Hey little wolf.”

“GODS, WHAT THE-”

He scrambled back in the grass, tumbling a few feet down the hill and standing up quickly. Athena was sitting next to him, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

“Every time, Athena! Why-” he huffed as he sat back down.

“My, my, Little Wolf, you've gotten skittish. I just had some advice, that's all.”

“Oh.”

Telemachus found himself staring at a large deep scar that stretched across one side of Athena's face.

“Athena?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, off topic question, but what. . .what happened to you? You look like you got hurt, and I thought gods couldn't get hurt?”

“We are immortal, child, not invincible. Especially when hurt by another god.”

“Another god?!” Telemachus said, startled by the idea that another god would hurt Athena.

She scowled and tried to move on, “You have daddy issues, I now have daddy issues, just-”

“Sorry.”

She sighed and cleared her throat.

“Anyways, back to what I came to tell you: your father has been missing for a long time…but he's not dead.”

Telemachus glanced up in surprise, hope sparking in his eyes for the first time in a long time.

“So I came here to suggest you go and search for news about him. Try to figure where he has been and where he might be. Go to Pylos first, where you already have friends, and go to Sparta and ask Menelaus about what he knows. He was the last of the Greek kings to return home, and he only got back to Sparta a few years back, so he might know something.”

“Do you really think it's safe for me to leave my mom all alone here for so long? Especially after an incident like…?”

He pointed at the fading scars on his face and arms.

“Your mother is a clever woman, and the weaving trick will buy you two lots of time if she can pull it off.”

“My mother is a quick weaver. I'm surprised she hasn't finished already…and I don't think the suitors will tolerate her procrastinating or going slow about it, so how will she-?”

“Has she deceived even her own son?” Athena laughed. “She undoes her work at night, Telemachus, so that she hardly makes any progress. Those imbeciles don't know a thing about weaving, so how are they going to know how long it takes to make such a complicated, and ornate item?”

Telemachus chuckled in disbelief. The whole idea made so much more sense now, and Telemachus suddenly experienced a new awe for his mother's underappreciated genius.

“But will my mother let me go on such a trip? I really don't want to leave her alone with those dogs any longer than I have to. . .”

“Yep, I've already put the idea in her mind. And come on boy, you're nineteen now, almost a man, (and a prince!), and you still act like you're a twelve year old boy who has to ask his mother for permission for everything!”

“I respect my mother's opinion.” He replied indignantly.

Athena smiled softly, “And it does you credit, Little Wolf, but you also have to stand on your own at some point too.”

“Fine, I get your point. I'll talk to her about it. And you're sure Antinous won't do anything if I go?”

“I'll keep an eye out for Penelope. I've always had a fascination with weaving anyways. . .”

—

Telemachus slowly lifted his hand and rapped on the wooden door for a moment before letting himself into his mother's chambers. She sat in front of the loom, as she often did nowadays, seemingly debating over colors of thread.

“It's just me, mom. . .” he mumbled.

Telemachus smiled sadly, and sat down beside her, leaning his head down on her shoulder like he used to do when he was little. She reached her hand over behind him and squeezed him close to her side, scratching behind his ears as his tail wagged slowly on the ground. Telemachus cleared his throat and tried to channel whatever “adult” was possibly in him.

“I have decided that I’m going on another diplomatic trip to Pylos. To search for news about dad. . .and maybe I'll head to Sparta too and see if Menelaus knows anything. I swear I'll be back in three weeks or less, I won't. . .I won't leave you here with them alone for too long-”

Penelope went silent for a moment and Telemachus started panicking and regretting everything. Was she mad at him? He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. She chuckled, kissed the top of his head silently, and squeezed his hand in return.

“Alright. Sounds fine.”

“You're not mad or anything that I’m-?”

“You'll do great, my little wolf. Just come home, yeah? . . .I can't lose both of you.”

Telemachus pulled her into a tight and desperate hug.

“I would never do that mom. I'll come back as fast as I can, I promise. I won't ever leave you, and I'll try to bring dad back if I can. And then everything will be great again, right?”

“Yeah. . .it'll all be back to normal. . .”
—

Telemachus still didn't like the seasickness that came with the sea, but he was getting better at travelling on the open ocean. He had selected his crew very carefully, guided by Athena, so that they were only very closely trusted men. He had tried to keep his mission silent, but he knew that by now most of the suitors probably knew at least some of what was going on.

Ever since Antinous had publicly outed his wolfish side he had stopped caring as much about people seeing his ears and tail, and had mostly stopped wearing his hat or pinning them down. He was pretty sure Athena was doing a lot of work concealing them, because he should be getting a lot more weird looks than he was. Oh well. He felt a certain amount of freedom from not having to conceal such things, and wondered why he hadn't done this when he was younger. He sat down on the bow of his ship and watched the waves of the warm sea push against the sides of the boat. An owl perched on the railing of the ship as they approached a familiar coastline and he grinned, happily flashing his sharp teeth.

—

Melantho yawned as she walked up the stairs, stopping by a torch in the hallway to light a small oil lamp she held in her hands. She saw dim light coming from under the queen’s door and crept closer, curious. Shouldn't Penelope be asleep by now? Melantho’s hand hesitated on the door handle. Something stopped her from knocking, entering, or announcing her presence. Instead she set down her lamp on the floor and squatted down to peer through the keyhole.

Penelope was sitting in front of her loom, snipping out some pieces of thread from her weaving. Had Penelope made a mistake? It was always possible, but Melantho had sat beside that loom with Penelope for many years when she was younger, and Penelope hardly ever made mistakes. But it was still possible. . .

Gods, Penelope was taking out whole rows! Melantho should keep an eye on that. . . Penelope was a clever woman, and thus never to be fully trusted. She had seen the way Eurymachus’ eyes had gleamed excitedly when Penelope announced her weaving project. Perhaps if Melantho relayed information about Penelope to Eurymachus he would finally be nicer to her and appreciate her. If the suitors took over and Eurymachus became king, she could become queen instead of Penelope!

Melantho got to her feet, knocked and entered, startling Penelope a little. The queen hastily grabbed a long length of thread and started tying it onto her loose end.

“Are your hands growing shaky, or is it just your mind becoming uncertain?” Melantho asked teasingly as she came over to her mistress’ side.

Penelope chuckled, “I suppose weaving such a depressing piece has made me indecisive. I obviously hope my father-in-law does not die for many years, but I want to be prepared. Do you like the yellow or the red for this section, dear? I originally did a light blue, but it looked bad so I took it out. I want this shroud to be perfect before I finish it off.”

Melantho nodded slowly and tried to not show the accusatory storm of thoughts in her head. She set down the lamp beside Penelope to give her better light.

“I think red would be good. If you want me to help you weave or bring you food or drink, I could always do that.”

Penelope hastily replied, “No! No, don't worry about that. And you're free to go for the rest of the night. I won't need anything else this evening, thank you. . . “

Melantho nodded, bowed, and left the room, her suspicion about Penelope’s actions growing with every step she took.