Chapter Text
Telemachus shielded himself better from the wind while keeping his eyes fixed ahead, already eagerly awaiting the sight of the birds that would signal that the coast of Pylos was near.
He didn’t want to be so far from home… But because of his own stupidity, he would have to be. What other choice did he have? He couldn’t wait for the suitors to find out why he was fleeing like a coward… Especially not if Antinous found out.
He carefully adjusted his cloak around himself once more. For some reason, he was constantly afraid that someone with the eyes of the gods might see right through his cloak—right through his clothes—all the way down to his abdomen, where the reason for his strategic flight, his greatest shame, and his tangible weakness were taking shape. His weakness in the face of the desire and seduction that such a damned bastard had professed to him at the start of that hot summer.
It wasn’t even noticeable yet, tummy still not soft enough, but the prince was terrified that someone would find out. He hadn’t even told his mother. She would want to know who it was, and he…
He couldn’t lie to her. So it was better to say nothing and try to figure it out when he was sure he was screwed.
He could still lose the baby. He didn’t want to raise a fuss over nothing… Better to wait until the child was born—if it was actually going to be born.
“I just pray to the gods that you don’t take after the imbecile who made you possible,” he whispered, feeling anxiety close in on him.
Yes, he might have been setting sail for a land far removed from the comforts of his home, but if he wanted to hide his pregnancy from the suitors and avoid a tragedy, he had no other choice.
Because, if Antinous—one of the most arrogant and overbearing men vying for his mother’s hand—hadn’t yet mentioned a word to the suitors about that night of passion when he’d finally managed to get the legendary heir to give in to his provocations and seductions, well, he’d surely do so once he found out that he, a mere beta male, had managed to get a male omega prince pregnant.
He could practically hear it already. The young man rolled his eyes and growled in irritation.
True, it wasn't the rarest option, but it rose way more eyebrows a beta impregnating an omega than another omega impregnating one. Why? Who knows, maybe because it was considered a rare and impossible blessing from the gods. A pure omega child, basically... some even believed in the myth that prime omegas were conceived that way.
Of course they didn't but, oh well, rumors are so strange in their own essence.
Coming back to Telemachus' spiralling thoughts: Damn the moment he realized that he disliked that bastard solely for his behavior.
If only he hadn’t been so attractive—and exactly his type. Was Aphrodite taking revenge for her father having destroyed Troy?
Telemachus groaned and hid his blush behind his arms, which were now resting on the ship’s railing.
Damn it, damn it! Why did I have to listen to my instincts? Yeah, right, nothing’s going to happen—he’s a beta… But he’s got a dick, you stupid Telemachus! he scolded himself angrily. And you’ve got a womb… Damn it… The odds were so low… No… I didn’t think I’d actually fall for it…
Pregnancies between male omegas and beta men were extremely rare. They could try to bite the omega, but without the fangs and the chemicals in their saliva, let’s just say that the omega’s reproductive anatomy could hardly comprehend that a sexual act was taking place to send an egg to be fertilized.
The most common way this could happen was if the Omega was in heat. Otherwise, the only other way was simply an extraordinary stroke of luck: sometimes an Omega’s ovum would be released a couple of days before heat, which was extremely rare, since heat marked the fertile period.
But even so, it could happen.
Telemachus sighed, gently shaking his head before placing his fist on his chest and turning to look at the crew that was taking him to the destination of his supposed diplomatic mission.
He hoped no one would suspect anything.
He still had options if the baby were to be born. He could confide the secret to his friend Pisistratus and ask for his help in finding a good family to raise the child in peace and tranquility.
Let no one ever find out who had fathered him. It wouldn’t be unusual; perhaps history would portray him as someone who had a bastard son and washed his hands of the matter. But Telemachus knew that whatever life the child might have in some low-ranking family would likely be better than being raised with Antinous as his father.
Because clearly, if the council found out that he had become pregnant, given his circumstances regarding his parents, they would waste no more time with his mother, pressuring him to accept the proposal that, in his quest for power, Antinous would obviously throw at him.
And he would rather slit his own throat than be bound to that brute for the rest of his life.
The medium brown-haired beta was staring intently at the wine in his cup while the noise raged around him as usual. It didn’t bother him; what irritated him was the absence of his favorite toy—and, until recently, the pinnacle of his romances and desires.
He couldn’t help it, the little wolf was a delight: an Omega who wouldn’t bow down to anyone, even going so far as to be haughty and rude, even if he were royalty and not supposed to bark and reply like that.
When he finally managed to get him into bed, he thought his ego would finally be satisfied. Well, yes, but he wanted more—much more—of that exquisite dish. He wanted to sample every variation and texture. Especially since he managed to satisfy him enough for the boy to change those fire-stirring growls into pleasured gasps and whimpers.
Omegas were quite hard to fully satisfy if you weren't an alpha. Not because of size, as many stupid alphas seemed to believe and brag about... it was because of endurance, both for the physical part and the libido aspect. Omegas were made by nature to withstand alpha's stamina and libido, that's why omegas had heats and alphas ruts. They complemented.
Betas on the other hand, got easily tired in comparison, and they needed rest way sooner and far too often. If you relied on your manhood to succeed, you had already lost the battle.
Lucky him, his father spoiled him since very young, teaching him everything there was to know about females. For a moment, he feared those tricks wouldn't help with a male omega, rare and precious as they were, but fuck, did they work.
Telemachus could attest to that. The bite to his shoulder had the prince's name all over it. The fang wounds were so cute, sadly, they wouldn't scar.
The noble grumbled at the shove a drunk suitor gave him with no intention, breaking for a moment his thoughts about how addicting had been bedding the little boy of Penelope.
Antinous chuckled at the thought.
No, he is no longer a little boy. He is a man now, still a wolf cub, but a whole young omega for me to feast on.
Still, he hadn't seen the heir for a few days already... were was he? Antinous had been crafting for days now a way to lure him into training before pretending to lose and pull the pretty prince into him, seducing him again and, maybe this time, having the prince reduced to a moaning whore right over his lap.
Even found a place near the cliffs were they'd be comfortable while at it. Nobody would hear or see a thing.
Because he, wasn't one on sharing. Fuck them all, they could wait for Penelope another decade, the omega reward for his patience was his alone.
It wasn't until Melantho whispered something in Eurymachus' ear that, moments later, he learned the truth that made his blood boil.
Usually he wouldn’t care, in fact, if the suitors took the opportunity to kill him, what difference would it make? But the maid had mentioned that one of the princes of Pylos was Telemachus' friend and that she’d heard Penelope talking very excitedly about their meeting, even letting out little, discreet giggles that seemed to suggest she was hoping something would happen.
He could deal with a rival he understood. He could measure a man's temper, his strength, his habits. He could find his weaknesses and decide how much pressure they would take before something broke. But everything changed with just one main question that lead to another:
Was that little shit an alpha? Would he dare to touch what he had claimed as his own?
If the brat was an alpha, he wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Screw it, he wasn’t crazy enough to take on an hostile alpha, those were terrifyingly strong and mad with bestiality when they entered in a feral or protection state.
No... if he couldn't have him... then he'd make sure that brat couldn't have him either.
His jaw tightened.
Eurymachus was still speaking, something about Melantho, about how useful it was that the servants always heard more than they should. Antinous barely registered it.
Telemachus had not announced his departure. He had simply gone.
Antinous slowly breathed out. Alright then... He would have to find out.
“Eurymachus.” The other man looked at him. “Do you know when Telemachus left?”
“Not exactly.”
“Who went with him?”
“I don't know.”
Antinous' jaw tightened. “Find out.”
Eurymachus raised an eyebrow. “You're taking this rather seriously.”
“Am I?” asked the nobleman as he stood, fixing his chlamys behind him.
“Where are you going?” Eurymachus asked.
“To my father.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
There was nothing in his voice that invited another question, so Eurymachus wisely let it go.
Antinous walked away from the palace, the halls, the party and the gluttony.
He needed to know how much time he had, that was the first thing. The second was actually reaching Pylos.
He could not simply announce that he wanted to follow Telemachus. That would be idiotic. Worse, it would invite questions he had no intention of answering.
So he needed a reason. A respectable one... Something his father could understand. A soft smile appeared in his mouth.
Trade would do.
There were always ships going between the islands. Always disputes over prices, cargoes, harbor rights, agreements between merchants. His father's name carried enough weight that nobody would question a son being sent to represent the family.
After all, thanks to that, no one questioned why Antinous remained in Ithaca even after the king doing the whole luck selection thing. Most noblemen were safe because they had power and money, thus saving their next heads of their game and family name.
And if he happened to remain in Pylos a little longer than necessary, well: Business had a way of taking time.
His father was always busy, always in motion, always buried in some matter of trade or obligation that made him seem half-absent even when he was only a few rooms away, and yet for all that distance he had never once denied Antinous anything he truly asked for. Not ships, not coin, not influence, and certainly not entry into his presence. So Antinous reached the door and entered without waiting.
He knew exactly what he was going to say. His father looked up from the tablets spread across the table.
“What is it?”
“I need to go to Pylos.”
His father stared at him.
“For what?”
“Business.”
That earned him a skeptical look.
“What business?”
“The western routes.”
His father leaned back.
“You've never shown any interest in them.”
“Perhaps I should have.”
A silence followed and Antinous remained standing. He knew his old man wouldn't say no, but, still, had to be cautious to get what he wanted.
His father studied him for a moment before looking back at the tablets.
“You want a ship?”
“Yes.”
“And men?”
“Enough to make the journey worthwhile.”
“That's an expensive way to satisfy curiosity.”
“It isn't curiosity.”
“Then what is it?”
Antinous didn't hesitate.
“Opportunity.”
His father looked up again and Antinous held his gaze.
There was no reason for him to know the truth, no reason for anyone to know. If people understood what Telemachus meant to him, they would try to take over his guarded prize. Why would they let such a delightful prize run off without a taste or the rewards that came from having it?
Antinous had no intention of giving them that advantage.
His father finally sighed.
“You'll have to give me something more convincing than that.”
“Then send me to speak with the merchants there.”
“About what?”
“Grain. Wool. Shipping.”
The list came easily, after all, there would always be something to discuss once he arrived.
His father considered it.
“And if I say no?”
Antinous' expression barely changed.
“Then I'll find another way to get there.”
His father gave him a long look.
“That sounds suspiciously like a threat.”
“It wasn't.”
“No?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Yet.”
His father almost smiled.
“Give me until morning.”
“I need to leave as soon as possible.”
“Why?”
Antinous' eyes remained steady. “Because if there is an opportunity, I would rather be there before someone else takes it.”
That answer seemed to satisfy Eupeithes, or at least it was one he could understand. His father nodded slowly.
“Very well. I'll see what can be arranged.”
Antinous inclined his head. “That is all I wanted,” therefore he turned and left.
Only once the door closed behind him did his expression change into a satisfied grin.
Pylos.
He was going to Pylos.
That settled one problem.
The other remained. He still didn't know who the prince was. But, but, but... Antinous got lost inside his mind, trying to guess who would be useful as to now.
There were people everywhere in the palace. Slaves carrying things, guards changing shifts, maids—whores—talking in low voices.
Someone would know something.
Someone always did.
He glanced toward the servants' quarters. Melantho had heard Penelope, if she had heard this much, someone else had probably heard more or the complement of it.
He didn't need to ask directly, that would make people curious. Instead, he would have someone ask for him. A question that would sound like gossip rather than an investigation.
Who was the Pylian prince? How long had he known Telemachus? Had Telemachus ever visited Pylos before?
Nothing that would reveal why Antinous cared. An still, he was for the win, he would know before he left.
And if he didn't... he would make sure he find out when he arrived.
His fingers curled loosely at his side. Telemachus had gone to Pylos believing distance would put him beyond reach.
Perhaps it would have worked on someone else.
Antinous had never been particularly good at letting people go simply because they decided they wanted to leave. They needed him to let them go first. It had always been like that, ever since he was younger.
Which was funny, thinking about it, because Telemachus—
Telemachus was different.
He had been different for years. Always saying no to him, always showing defiance, not being easy at absolutely anything, growling and hissing every time they were face to face.
Stirring the fire in his soul deliciously so. Even more so than the boy's mother. Yes, Penelope was beautiful, and she had plenty of the traits her son manifested in his temper... but she was bound by the love of another man, she pretended to be pliant and docile even if she was not.
He loved Telemachus couldn't fake it to save his life. He didn't intend to break the boy, but even if he did, he would feel a heated pooling in his stomach to know he was the tamer of the wild omega; that the wolf would be there: licking his hand and whimpering in submission or adoration because it was him, who made the omega that way.
Whatever Telemachus thought he was going to find in Pylos, Antinous would make certain that nobody got the opportunity to take what belonged to him.
Not while he still had something to say about it.