Chapter Text
The night air in Ithaca was cool as Telemachus snuck his way through the palace to the baths. His pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he passed windows on his trek. Fluffy, dark hair bouncing with each step. Tumultuous blue eyes glancing around every corner and pillar. His thin, wiry frame taut with tension.
He knew the suitors should all be asleep, but it never hurt to be sure. He already had to deal with them twice today. Once, when they goaded him into a fight by threatening Argos, the second, when he came back from a daily walk, soaking wet. He hopes to avoid a third time.
He was on guard almost the whole way down to the communal baths, looking for any signs of suitors nearby, but finding none. The bottles of oils and lotions clutched tightly within his grasp to keep them from making any sounds. Arms wrapped securely around his bundle of clothes.
After not finding a single sign, he relaxed and let out a sigh of relief as he neared the baths. The warmth from the water leaking out into the nearby hallway, slightly warming him. A slight smile ghosted his lips when he felt the chill start to dissipate.
He let his thoughts run, recounting the events of the day. The training with Athena, the scuffle with suitors, his impromptu swim in the ocean when Argos got under his feet and tripped him. The guffaws and taunts from the suitors as he made his way to his room to change still echoing in his head.
‘Looks like the Little Wolf decided to go for a quick dive.’
‘You know you’re supposed to take your clothes off before you go in the water, right?’
His line of thinking abruptly stopped when he heard the sounds of splashing coming from the baths. Cautiously, but still determined to get clean, feeling the sweat, salt, and grime from the day clinging to his skin, he pushed forward slowly.
He prayed to whichever gods will listen that there isn’t anyone in the baths at this time. His nightly bath runs were his favorite part of the day besides the library. He’d hate to have to change his schedule around again due to the suitors. His life has already changed so much already.
With his body flat against the wall, he peered around the corner. His eyes met nothing but the sight of when he assumed was an empty bathhouse. But as he took a closer look, he could see some clothes piled neatly on a bench on the opposite side of the bath. The steam rising from the water only slightly obscuring his vision, enough to stop him from seeing it the first time.
‘Great. There is someone here after all. Please don’t be a suitor. Please be anyone else but one of them.’
With his heart in his throat, he froze in place, not willing to break the ominous silence that surrounded him. His eyes searching the room for any sign of movement, whether behind the pillars or from the doorways. Finding none, he eased slightly.
‘I guess they’re not here. Probably just forgot their clothes. But that means someone walked back to their room naked, meaning the staff would have definitely seen them. So they might still be here, just left to do something, perhaps’
Heart and thoughts racing, he took a cautious step into the baths, being sure to step quietly. When nothing jumped out at him upon his first step in, he warily stepped towards a bench closest to the door. Eyes watching for intruders, body tense with the sense of foreboding. The feeling of not being alone still strong within him.
He finally reached the bench, moving at a snails pace the whole time. He finally relaxed when nothing had showed itself to him. Still on alert, he began setting his belongings down neatly on the bench. He started to undress, removing each layer with practiced ease. Undoing the pin for his chlamys, untying his belt, and unpinning his chiton. Folding each layer of cloth as he goes. Eyes still firmly on his surroundings the whole time.
Looking everywhere but at the water, he didn’t notice a ripple across the surface. Didn’t notice the glint of something metallic lurking just below. Nor the deep mahogany eyes, glinting in the dim light, watching Telemachus’ every move from the furthest corner of the bath.
Telemachus sat himself on the bench beside his clothes and began applying oil over his body to begin the cleaning process. After scrubbing himself down with a pumice stone, and scrapping all the oil off with a strigil, he finally submerged himself within the water.
He didn’t notice as the figure submerged themselves soundlessly beneath the water, the dark locs, adorned in rings of gold, floating gently above their head as they hid from sight.
Telemachus fully relaxed into the heat, as it soothed his aching muscles and bruises. His eyes drifted close as he leaned back against the ledge, no longer caring if someone else was here.
He thought about his mother, how she can be so brave and strong against the suitors when all he manages to do is get antagonized into fighting them. Never winning but still trying anyways. Athena training has been working, but not enough to make a difference with some of them.
Antinous, especially. He’s only gotten a couple lucky hits on the brute, the same cocky smirk on his scarred face after each time just made him want to punch his stupid face even more. He always ends up pinned underneath the man by the end of it. He tries not to think about how it makes him feel.
His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a splash. Eyes snapping open, he took in his surroundings. The water was lapping against the walls and his body, no point of origin found yet.
‘What was that? What could have caused that? I haven’t seen anything since I’ve been in this room. Nothing looks out of place, perhaps it was—'
Then he saw it. What looked like a fin broke through the surface of the water, just long enough to see the color. A rich carmine color with a slight translucency to it. He immediately tensed and paled in terror. Thoughts of his imminent death tore through his mind.
‘I’m dead. So dead. How did it get here? What even is it? Will I die fast or slow? Will it be painless or painful? Where did it go?’
Having no idea how it even got in the bath in the first place wasn’t helping his mind ease at all. As he prepared to embrace death at the hands, or rather fins, of this creature, he saw as it finally breeched the surface. First, human arms, head and torso before it transitioned into a fish like tail. It had only been above the water for a second but he knew what he saw.
He had read about them in books. It’s either a siren, which only confirms his death, or a merfolk. Still deadly, but not a killed-for-a-snack, deadly. The human form looked decidedly male, and strangely familiar. The skin, a deep umber color. Ebony hair, from what he'd seen. The fins on his back and arms were the same color as his tail.
He had a feeling the man-siren?-creature?- whatever it is, is toying with him. It doesn’t get close to him but definitely makes its presence known by splashing its tail across the water. At this point, his mind thinks back to his strigil, sitting innocently on the bench a few feet away.
Not that it matters of course, it’s not much of a weapon. Even if he can get out fast enough, it won’t do much good. Then again, if he does get out, what’s stopping him from just bolting and leaving this creature for the next poor wretch.
His thoughts, once again, interrupted as the water got deadly still. No sound or movement in the whole place, except for the panicked breathing of Telemachus. Eyes searching the water’s surface frantically.
Then, movement caught his eye. The water seemed to roll in his direction. The force under the water seemed to stop right in front of him, sending a small wave into his chest. It felt as if his heart stopped in his chest as a head finally broke the surface.
Dark locs with gold jewelry scattered throughout the hair, skin the color of warm umber. And—an extremely familiar scar across his face. Starting from the right eyebrow, splitting it, through the right eye, across the nose, and through the lips, ending right before the left side of his chin. Right eye slightly milky due to the injury but not inhibiting his combat abilities.
As the man’s head fully rises from the water, his cocky smirk plastered on his face, Telemachus’ brain short-circuits a second. His expression goes from one of fear, to confusion before shifting to anger. Without even thinking, he quickly punches Antinous hard in the face, sending his form back in the water.