Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The island of Ithaca.

Small island, even smaller in population, but it became a place of interest to Ares.

The reason it became a place of interest was because of a past incident. You see, Athena created a magic boar. It was one that only the best of the best would’ve been able to slay. Someone strategic enough to pinpoint its weaknesses and exploit them, strong enough to actually get the job done.

When Athena found her warrior, Ares wondered if perhaps he could find a warrior who could do something similar, if not better.

And that’s how he found himself creating something, ironic for the God of destruction. The manticore he created roamed the quiet nights outside Ithaca, and he watched quietly.

Of course, when manticore sightings were reported, it was instantly agreed upon that it must be handled swiftly. King Odysseus would’ve done so himself, if not for the fact he had already been called to war in Troy and already had to prepare for that. He wouldn’t have made a worthy student anyway. For he is the very one that killed Athena’s boar.

Many people attempted to kill the manticore. The best warriors tried to look for weaknesses and exploit them. However, this manticore was a force to be trifled with.

For a while, Ares was disappointed.

These were the best warriors of Ithaca? They could not even kill a simple manticore. For a while, his routine consisted mostly of watching in quiet wait, hiding as a boar.

The lack of bloodshed began to irritate him. After all, Ares had never been the most patient God. Many men left bloodied and bruised, some injured beyond recognition. And each time, Ares would be left disappointed.

Only the finest of warriors could ever possibly kill this manticore. Someone who would never stop, no matter the cost.

But Ares forced himself to be patient, even if he wanted to kill the thing himself.

However, one afternoon, something changed. Ares watched quietly in boar form as a child emerged within the forest.

The boy looked no older than eight years old. In his hand, he tightly gripped a spear like a lifeline, but where he got it from remains unknown. Most notably, the boy’s right eye appears to be blind, if the scar is anything to go off. His arms are almost completely bandaged.

The boy appeared to be angry, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed on wherever he intended to go.

Ares followed, intrigued by the sight.

The boy remained entirely silent, appearing to be looking for something, unbeknownst to the God following him. Perhaps it was a mix of the trees successfully hiding him and his boar form obscuring his true identity.

They walked and walked until the boy stopped suddenly, peering through the trees.

Through the gap, one could easily make out the sight of his manticore on the prowl, almost as if it were looking for a fight. And to Ares, the child seemed to be the way too.

The child gripped the spear tightly before running at the creature.

Running head-first into such a battle is not a strategic decision, but Ares is not Athena. He watches with interest piqued as the child rushes the manticore. The creature quickly notices him and growls.

Any child with the bravery to face such a horrifying creature, of human face with animal body, deserves at least some of Ares’ respect. But the child seems dead set on killing the thing.

The stinger on the end of its tail, the claws coming from its paws, the human fangs it bares… None of that seems to deter the boy.

Once, twice… Even upon getting hit, he continues running and dodging, wielding the spear tightly in his grasp almost as if it were a limb of its own.

The manticore successfully lands many blows. It cuts through the bandages with the stinger, making the boy begin to bleed. It bites at the boy’s exposed skin, almost barely avoiding breaking through. It claws at the boy’s stomach, making Ares surprised that the solar plexus is even still intact.

The fight goes on for hours. The boy quickly becomes exhausted, but he never stops. He stabs at the manticore, getting in quite a few good jabs, but just barely avoiding fatal areas.

Such a young boy, continually pushing past his own limits…

…Ares would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed.

The boy lets out an exhausted and frustrated sound before getting in close. He raises the spear and stabs the manticore’s head.

With its senses disrupted, the boy pulls the bloody spear out of the flesh. Then he stabs it once more, directly within the heart.

Scarred, bruised, bloodied… The boy’s open wounds have no doubt exhausted him. And yet, as soon as the manticore falls over, incapacitated, the boy moves to continue stabbing. For good measure, perhaps. Just in case.

As soon as the manticore’s heart stops beating and the body becomes cold, the boy falls onto the ground himself.

His body shakes noticeably, heaving for breath. His previous bandages are now useless, his face has its fair share of wounds now. His stomach and chest were clawed pretty viciously by the deceased manticore. And yet he still lives.

Ares approaches, concealed under the guise of a boar.

The night has fallen, the manticore is dead. The boy will be too, without help.

“Over here! It should be over here!’

Footsteps sound. For a moment, Ares watches as the boy slips into unconsciousness. He steps back before leaving to hide amidst foliage and trees as Ithacan soldiers quickly approach.

“It’s- Huh…?” The voice trails off. “The manticore’s been killed!”

“What’s a kid doing here? He’s not dead, is he?”

“Hurry and pick him up! He’ll die if we don’t help him out!”

“Get a cart and drag the manticore with us. Surely we can use its body for something…”

Ares watches as the boy is quickly scooped up in a piggyback style. It’s unlikely any of the men here know much about medicine or injury.

Just before the boy leaves, however, Ares notices the tired boy open his eyes briefly. And he can swear that for just a moment, the boy looks directly in his eyes.

Ares quietly follows. The boy has interested him.

What was the boy’s motivation? Perhaps attempting to prove himself?

Could this be the warrior he’s been searching for? Young, yes, but a mind that can be trained. One that can be ruthless in the very near future.

He follows until the soldiers and the child disappear within Ithaca’s surrounding walls, the corpse of the manticore being carried with them.

The boy deserves a reward for facing such a beast.

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Ares returned the next afternoon, in his boar form, after asking a certain someone for a very particular favor.

He observed and waited until a familiar face emerged.

The boy was very much alive. Bruised, scarred no doubt, but alive. His arm bandages were replaced, practically covering the expanse. He had several places covered on his face as well, reaffirming in Ares’ mind just how resilient the boy must be. He imagines his stomach and chest must be completely bandaged as well.

In fact… The boy probably shouldn’t even be moving after such injuries. Just how resilient can a child be?

He walks a bit further into the surrounding forest before searching around. “Show yourself,” he says suddenly.

“...I know someone has been watching me. Show yourself.”

“A perceptive child you are.” Finally deciding to reveal himself, Ares walks out in boar form before becoming the face everyone knows, towering over the child. “Defeating the manticore… An impressive feat, worthy of my respect.”

The boy quickly turns to face the imposing presence. Ares’ face is hidden, covered by his Spartan helmet, but he knows that he is no doubt intimidating. “Enlighten me, boy. Who is the one who defeated the beast?”

“...Antinous of Ithaca,” the boy answers quietly. He does not falter. He does not step back before such a presence. “...And who are you?”

Ares huffs beneath the helmet.

A mere moment later, he decides to remove it, revealing an almost amused smile. “The one who stands before you today is the God of War and Destruction himself. You’ve intrigued me, boy. And I’m here to make an offer.”

“...An offer?”

“If you’re looking for a mentor, I am more than willing to be that for you.” He holds a hand out, allowing the gift he had crafted to materialize. “A simple spear will not do. I’ve had this sword forged for you, charmed by me. A sword of which can only be wielded by yourself or those you allow to wield it.”

The child, with a shine in his working eye, takes the sword. He seems confused when he holds it, as much as he is full of reverence. The sword weighs much less than he expected it to.

“I shall find you once more once your wounds have healed, boy.” Ares walks behind him, already taking on the role of mentor. He leans down after a moment. “Do not disappoint me.”

Then he disappears, leaving the boy– Antinous– All by himself.

Sword in hand, surprisingly light for its size, he runs back through the gates. Perhaps this would be the perfect thing to prove himself with.

Chapter Text

The Trojan War.

It ended nine years ago. But one fact remained.

The King had not yet returned home.

King Odysseus of Ithaca. Summoned to fight against the Trojans nineteen years ago, expected to return after only ten, and yet… Odysseus had not returned.

Many people in Ithaca believed the King to have died at sea. Including the men slowly trickling into the palace. Many were there for their own reasons. Some out of genuine love for Penelope, some for power.

The Queen claimed she would choose a new man to adorn her once she had finished weaving her shroud. Some of the suitors bought it.

Antinous didn’t.

How long does it take to weave a shroud? Certainly not two years.

No, Antinous came up with an explanation of his own months in advance. Queen Penelope would never choose a new husband. She was too devoted to a man long dead, too delusional to face reality. She believes him to still be alive. And Antinous was only so patient.

Hell, the only reason the rest of the suitors hadn’t stormed Penelope’s quarters was largely in part to the iron-clad grasp Antinous had on them, acting as a leader to them.

…And there was one other factor. The Prince.

At some point, the more impatient of the suitors set a precedent. That the Prince of Ithaca, Telemachus, was basically a walking punching bag. Antinous may or may not have played a part in that.

The suitors had their own reasons for complying to this. Some viewed the Prince as an easy target. They saw some weaker and smaller than them and took the opportunity to release all of their pent-up aggression. Some had lusted after the Prince, but refused to give into that, no matter how much it clawed at them. Beating him seemed like the only way to relieve that stress.

In Antinous’ case, he viewed it as an opportunity.

An opportunity to get the Queen to realize what exactly was at stake here if she didn’t choose a new man to rule beside her.

There was one thing Penelope loved as much as her husband. And it was her son.

In him, Antinous saw a way to manipulate Penelope into agreeing. Her son, with all his bruises, would eventually run to her. Eventually, he would tug at her heartstrings.

…Except the Prince was as intelligent as he was stubborn.

It was clear that the Prince had realized Antinous’ plan and refused to go to his mother. He handled his own injuries and never complained.

After three years of this bullshit, it was starting to piss him off. And he thought he was stubborn.

Antinous was both intrigued by it and annoyed by it.

Perhaps that’s why he’s actively searching for the Prince, a very special sword in hand, planning to finally end this.

Nineteen years since the King disappeared. Two years of waiting for the Queen to see reason. And two years of dealing with Odysseus’ brat, trying to use him, and failing.

And now, the Prince was hiding from him. For good reason.

He’s been on the verge of killing this brat for a good long while. And he’s lost his patience. If Penelope won’t choose with her son alive, she’ll choose with her son dead.

And Ares was always one to love violence. He’ll give him a show.

He walks slowly, eyeing the palace surrounding him like a predator searching for its prey. And that wasn’t really too far off.

The palace that surrounds him is brilliant, opulent. It's hard to believe that this palace was created singlehandedly by the absentee King.

There are various openings to the outside, following floors supported by pillars and railings for safety. But they also give Antinous vantage points.

And if his only working eye does not deceive him, from his second floor advantage, he can very clearly see the boy he’s hunting. Unaware of his surroundings, for the moment, hidden amongst the bushes and foliage of the garden.

Quietly, almost leisurely, Antinous descends the floor, his sword supported by his shoulder.

This should be easy. Correction – Should’ve been easy.

Antinous is larger, more experienced, stronger. And the Prince is unaware of his oncoming approach.

Except, he was. Because the moment he heard even the slightest of footsteps, the Prince ran, only looking back briefly.

The Prince was more intelligent than any of the suitors gave him credit for. It appears he knew all along someone was watching him. But Antinous was not one to give up.

“Running away like a scared pup… How cowardly…”

His sword, heavy in the hands of any other, is easily held in a single hand as Antinous gives chase. He’s not letting the Prince get away that easily.

He’s thirsty for some blue blood.

Especially that of Odysseus’ brat.

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“Get back here, damn it!”

Antinous is getting tired of all this running around.

They must’ve run around each floor of the palace twice already. The Prince is surprisingly fast, much like a hare, and he seems to anticipate any move Antinous makes.

The word ‘homophrosyne’ comes to mind– The two of them are thinking alike, anticipating and planning for whatever movement the other decides to make.

Antinous feels way too in-sync with the Prince for comfort.

Perhaps, in another reality, the two of them aren’t enemies. Hell, if he weren’t trying to kill him, Antinous would’ve enjoyed sparring with the Prince.

But alas, the boy is in Antinous’ way.

The Prince continues weaving his way through people and objects, trying his hardest to get away. But he’s noticeably slowing down and his breath is heavier.

This should be it. He can’t run for much longer.

He places his sword over his shoulder once more, taking advantage of the Prince’s exhaustion to grab his wrist.

Violently, almost hatefully, he slams the Prince against a nearby wall, directly underneath a painting of him and the Queen. That’s it, he’s won the chase.

“Gotcha.”

The Prince is still hopelessly trying, but running around has exhausted his strength. “Unhand me- Let me go you-!”

But of course, words do not deter the suitor either. When do words ever work with them?

“It’s been fun, kid, but I’m sick of chasing you around.” His hand moves to the Prince’s neck, simultaneously pinning him to the wall and applying a slight bit of pressure to stop the squirming. “Let this be a message to your mother. We’re tired of waiting.”

He lifts his sword, reveling in the way the Prince’s eyes widen.

This is it. The first and final blow. The opportunity to end all the waiting and suffering. The sword comes up to the exposed parts of neck, fully prepared to slit his throat.

But he stops for some reason.

Telemachus is shaking slightly, head turned away so as not having to meet the eyes of his potential killer.

Why is he hesitating?

Why can’t he bring himself to move his arm?

Why is Antinous struggling to deal the final blow and why does this scene feel… Familiar? He has the perfect chance to just kill the Prince. Why isn’t his body letting him?

It’s a quiet moment. A moment in which Antinous was supposed to be stabbing the Prince’s corpse. A moment that feels charged.

Telemachus’ eyes slowly open, as if confused. He probably expected to be dead by this point as well.

Damn this hesitating. He can already picture exactly what the Prince will do in this moment of silence. Land a blow of his own, maneuver out of the grip.

Except, he does none of that. Rather, the first thing he does is lift a hand. He could’ve landed a blow, he really could’ve. But he didn’t.

Instead, he places his hand on top of the one currently wrapped around his neck. Were they not trying to kill each other, one would view it as… Almost affectionate in nature.

Antinous feels confused.

They both had an opportunity to hurt each other. So why didn’t either of them choose to do so?

The confusion angers him and he lifts his sword again.

This time, he doesn’t aim for the Prince. Rather, he aims for the Prince in the painting behind him. He stabs it right through the hypothetical heart (more than once), angered, but unable to spill any of the Prince’s blood.

He backs away after pulling his sword out of the wall. Telemachus appears confused.

“Keep your damn head for now. But I will remove it from your shoulders one day,” he growls out, before stomping off.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Why didn’t he just take the opportunity when it arose? He had the perfect chance! He had an upperhand!

Why did he hesitate?

And more importantly… Why didn’t the Prince fight back? He had simply placed a hand on his like a grounding gesture, doing more to make him feel safe than anyone else.

And it angered Antinous.

He tells himself that he only hesitated because it reminded him of someone. The fear in his eyes, the way he shook and flinched… It’s just a reminder of that one person.

But he can’t help wondering if there’s more to it.

That night, he chooses to drink until he passes out, unwilling to think about the events that have transpired today. He’ll win Penelope some other way.

And he never wants to think about the Prince again.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, it seems forgetting the event was not just improbable, but completely impossible.

Antinous couldn’t stop wondering. He hesitated, but he didn’t know why. And the Prince neither attempted to escape his grip, nor attempted to fight back.

It was confusing. And confusion pisses him off. A lot pisses him off, really.

Even now, as he aimlessly traverses the palace, the memory is stuck in his head. It’s so goddamn annoying– The moment felt almost… Intimate. He dreads that word.

He really should just pull himself out of those thoughts. It’s pointless to think about something that’s already passed. Ares must’ve told him that a thousand points, the brute. Dwelling on the past is a weakness…

“Oh, stand still will you?”

A stupid, grating voice pulls him out of his thoughts. It belongs to one of the suitors, he knows that much. Usually, he’s much better at hiding the annoyance most of them bring him, but Antinous genuinely can’t be bothered.

“It’s not like it’ll hurt… Much.” Another one. They must be harassing one of the maids. He can hear a blade hitting the wall. “And what with the Queen ignoring our… Needs, isn’t it up to you to make us feel at ease?”

This isn’t any of his business. They do this all the time. What’s the point of getting involved?

“...Your Highness?”

Well.

That’s certainly of interest.

Antinous groans. He really shouldn’t care if he’s the one getting harassed. The annoying bastard has been nothing but an annoyance to all of the suitors, constantly in the way of their attempts to get closer to the Queen.

“I’ve already given you all enough grace, letting you take over my palace. I don’t owe you anything.”

Fuck it, whatever.

He rounds the corner. There’s going to be no casual explanation for this, but whatever. “What the Hell do you two think you’re doing?”

The guys, whom he hasn’t bothered to learn the names of, seem even more comfortable upon seeing one of their fellow suitors. “Oh, nothing! Just… Trying to get something from our hosts.”

This receives an immediate glare from the Prince.

“...Normally, I might’ve encouraged you, but I’ve no patience today. I recommend you two leave as soon as possible,” he says, a little calmer than he felt earlier. He discreetly gets between the Prince and them.

“Uh..?”

“Go. Away. I already have a headache and your voices are making it worse.”

Of course, none of the suitors dare question or argue against him. So, though confused, they leave, intimidated by him. Almost all of the suitors are, besides Eurymachus and Amphinomus.

Those bastards have known him longer than he can even remember.

“...What was that?” The Prince’s voice interrupts his thoughts. It’s certainly less grating than that of the suitors, as much as he hates that line of thought.

He attempts a charming persona. “What? They were annoying. And you certainly didn’t seem interested in them. Or am I wrong?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… Why?” He asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Not that Antinous can blame him. “...Why go out of your way? What do you care?”

“Well, I’d rather not live in a kingdom with a murdered heir. Who knows what those two would’ve done to you?” His smirk comes off as more annoyed than it does charming.

“...That didn’t seem to matter so much the other day.”

Antinous groans.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve sufficed, your Highness.” He places a hand on the Prince’s smaller frame and shoves him out of his way, annoyed by the suspicion.

It’s best to just ignore it and walk away. Ignore the fact that his shove wasn’t as harsh as he would’ve liked it to be. Or that it normally would’ve been.

The Prince must be making him go soft.

A sigh is heard before he feels something grip his wrist. The very hands of the Prince.

“Huh? What are you-”

“...Thank you,” he interrupts. A mere whisper, quiet and unsure, as if he never expected to ever be thanking Antinous for anything.

He probably didn’t.

The Prince scurries away before he can say anything more.

Antinous just… Stands there. The Prince. Thanking him for something? Hell must’ve frozen over if that’s the case.

Screw this. The Prince is just an annoyance, taking up useful brain space. Thinking about any interaction he’s had with the Prince is pointless.

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That interaction is pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind, deciding to just spend the rest of his day in the dining hall with his friends.

…Though, an unfamiliar face is sitting at the table they normally sit at.

Eurymachus is there as usual, flirting with the lingering Melantho. Melanthius is there as well, a rarity as he’s usually on the clock. And of course, there’s Amphinomus… Seeming entrance by someone that Antinous doesn’t recognize.

“...Who the hell is that?” He asks as he sits down besides closest friend, Eurymachus.

“New guy,” he responds simply, not taking his eyes off Melantho. “Amphi’s the one who invited him.”

Just looking at the guy, Antinous can’t put a name to the face. A bit thinner than many of the other suitors, but doesn’t seem like a bad guy.

“After that, they say Horus defeated Set. Restored order to the land.”

Apparently smart too. Antinous didn’t know anyone here cared about any sort of mythos, assuming it’s all real.

Amphinomus is noticeably enraptured by whatever the guy is saying.

“Theoclyme’s his name, apparently,” Eurymachus supplies after a moment, finally turning to face his friend when Melantho insists on returning back to work.

“Don’t care.” Antinous pours himself some wine. That stupid little brat is still on his mind and it’s pissing him off.

Though, looking at Amphinomus and the random– Theoclyme– The two seem to be rather close. It reminds him somewhat of Eurymachus and Melantho before the two were openly together.

Wonder why that is.

“Wow, someone’s in a bad mood,” says Eurymachus, breaking him out of his thoughts once more. Ever the annoying asshole, he is quick to wrap an arm around Antinous’ shoulders. “Lighten up. What’s got you so pissed off?”

Antinous doesn’t answer.

“...Alright, be that way. But I’ve got something you’ll get a kick out of,” he says quickly at the lack of response, undeterred by it. Eurymachus knows him the best, but doesn’t care to point out what’s making him feel so pissy today. “Found a certain Prince training in the courtyard last night. Gods, his form is awful! Wish you’d seen it.”

“He does that every night,” Melanthius suddenly supplies. Antinous had nearly forgotten he was even there. “Always saying something about ‘becoming like his father’. But his skill and form are lacking in just about every way possible.”

“How embarrassing!”

…Huh.

Is that where to find him at night?

Not that Antinous cares. He really couldn’t care less.

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On a completely unrelated note, it’s later that night that Antinous decides to take a late-night walk.

Definitely for no other reason than he just wants to. After all, the elegant and opulent palace is meant to be enjoyed, no?

He is certainly, most definitely, not looking for anyone. He just so happens to come across the courtyard on his walk.

As soon as he reaches it, he can hear the sound of wood against wood, likely a wooden sword against a wooden dummy. It’s a familiar sound, one he’d heard nothing short of a thousand times when the God of War had him breaking his body.

Rounding a pillar, he comes upon exactly what he (totally wasn’t) looking for. The Prince, as to be expected, is training like his life depends on it.

…To the best of his abilities, that is.

Melanthius wasn’t kidding. His form is all off and in terms of skill? It’s most certainly lacking.

He leans against the pillar, just watching for a little bit. It hurts to do so, especially as a trained warrior himself.

He just can’t resist a snarky comment. “I’m beginning to understand why those fools intended to help themselves to you…”

The Prince jumps upon hearing that, quickly turning to see who it was. But then his eyes narrow in confusion upon seeing who it is. “...And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying. With form like that, I’d mistake you for a woman too.”

That was most definitely not the right thing to say

The Prince does not respond. Simply allows his sword to fall to the ground and glares. It’s… Surprisingly cold.

It honestly reminds him of the Queen’s. An unwavering gaze that he can feel ice-cold anger radiating from. It’s not a pleasant feeling. In fact, it sends a shiver down his spine just looking at him.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable and it lasts for an even worse amount of time.

“...I didn’t think that’d anger you so much.” He attempts to lighten the mood. It doesn’t work and he instead groans. “Look, if my honesty truly disturbs you that much, I’d be much better suited to being your tutor.”

The Prince’s eyes widen, as if considering it. “...Is that a genuine offer?”

It appears his anger is momentarily forgotten.

Antinous hadn’t intended to genuinely train the brat. That’d make any confrontation they have later more difficult. However… It seems entertaining.

“I suppose it is. Just let me know when you get tired.”

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The Prince, in fact, did NOT let him know when he got tired.

They’d been sparring for hours when it happened.

Despite the Prince’s horrible form and skill, he was incredibly swift and a quick thinker. Though too many times did Antinous need to correct his form.

It had reminded him all too closely of when he was sparring against Ares, or fighting the manticore all those years ago.

He’s not bad, but he could be better.

But then, he collapsed. Basically as soon as the sun came up, the Prince collapsed, unable to continue sparring.

Antinous carefully approached his unconscious body. Gently setting his training sword, he turns the Prince onto his back.

Is he breathing? Antinous can’t tell.

They didn’t train that hard, he thought. He gently picks up the Prince’s wrist, checking for a pulse.

Still alive. Good. He’d be dead in an instant if he accidentally got the Prince killed, despite the latter being the one who wanted to train in the first place.

It probably isn’t a good idea to just… Let him lay here though.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, he picks up the unconscious Prince in a careful princess carry.

It only further confirms that he’s alive, thankfully. His body is warm and now that he’s closer, Antinous can hear the breathing.

It’s a surprisingly quiet trek. None of the suitors bother them. And there’s no Prince to interrupt his train of thought.

…But he’s not hard to carry, surprisingly. Maybe it’s a mix of his own strength and the Prince’s smaller stature, but it really isn’t an issue.

As the dawn has begun to speak, the palace is quiet and still. Nothing moves, but it’s as beautiful as a painting or newly woven tapestry, and he and the Prince are merely characters in it. Antinous never was someone to stop and appreciate art, but it feels different when you’re a part of the art.

It’s hard to believe that the King created the lavish palace with his own two hands when you’re really beginning to walk through it. But still, he’s carrying the Prince surprisingly carefully for how he used to treat him.

And eventually, they reach the Prince’s bedroom door.

On a normal day, he wouldn’t even be allowed here. Suitors aren’t allowed anywhere near the royal quarters. But this situation is a bit more important.

He doesn’t get time to enjoy the sight though, when someone comes into his view.

“What have you done!?”

The familiar voice is heard instantly as it springs up from the bed and approaches to collect the Prince from Antinous’ arms. “Huh- Wh-?”

As it turns out, Queen Penelope had been waiting in her son’s room. She quickly takes her child from the suitor, holding him in the same carry with surprising ease, hasty enough to be considered an insult, and instantly backing away.

“I demand an answer. What have you done to my son?”

Antinous really shouldn’t be confused. “I- What?”

He is.

“He comes to visit me every day… But he didn’t come this morning.” With a tenderness only befitting that of a mother, she lays her son carefully on his bed. “So I ask again. What have you done to him?”

“I didn’t do anything…”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

She turns to glare at him upon ensuring her son is still alive. But then she quietly grabs a sword propped against the wall, one of Telemachus’.

“...I think it is safe to say that the Laws of Xenia no longer apply.”

“Wait- WAIT WAIT WHAT THE F-”

You can bet your ass she’s coming at him with a sword.

And genuinely trying to kill him too. Aiming for vitals and shit. He really shouldn’t have agreed to train the Prince. What was he on?

“Wh…” That’s not his voice or the Queen’s. “My room…? How did…?”

The sword clatters to the floor. As the Queen quickly runs to her son. “Are you alright…!? You weren’t here this morning- I thought someone might’ve…”

“We… Were in the courtyard… Training… How did I…”

Antinous doesn’t stay to watch the sweet mother-son moment.

He slips away as fast as he can. The last thing he wants is to be stabbed by the Queen under the assumption he killed her son.

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.

.

“No. Not again.”

Safe to say, after the Queen mistook his attempt at improving the Prince’s combat skills for a literal murder attempt, Antinous is a bit… Weary about trying again.

So, the fact that the Prince is back and attempting to get him to agree to train him again…

If Antinous didn’t know better, he’d say the Prince wants his mother to try to stab him. And she would have no qualms, as she already fucking hates him.

“Wh- You didn’t even let me finish!” An angry Prince says with a glare.

Antinous crosses his arms. “I don’t need to. Your mother nearly got me in the chest the last time I tried training you and I’d rather keep my life.”

He was just leaning against the column peacefully, tired of Eurymachus flirting with Melantho, when the Prince decided to come begging for another training session.

But the little shit doesn’t know his limits, a horrible quality to have in a trainee.

It’s because of that lack of knowledge that the Prince collapsed. And Antinous was almost murdered.

“B-But-!”

“No. End of story.”

The Prince looks dejected by the rejection. It’s almost enough to make Antinous feel bad. Almost.

He understands the desperation. It’s the same way he felt when he was younger. Intent on proving himself to his father. On becoming stronger.

The Prince can’t improve without a real opponent. But when the cost may be that of your training partner’s life? Well…

It’s merely an act of self-preservation, really.

Even if it upsets the Prince. He doesn’t care. It was a one time thing and he has no need to continue to entertain him.

This will all blow over and they’ll go back to hating each other within the week.

“If that’s all, I should return to the dining hall.” He turns intent on leaving.

This is all pointless. Training the Prince would only get in the way of his ultimate goal. Of his own training. He’ll forget about it.

“W-Wait… Please, don’t go yet,” he says, quickly stepping forward and grabbing the suitor’s wrist before he can leave. “If I can offer you something that would be of use to you, would that change your mind?”

Antinous turns slightly, curiosity clear in his eyes.

He is met with drachma.

Well… That certainly sweetens the deal.

He groans, having already folded. “...Hurry and pick up a sword.”