Chapter Text
He stood near his window, looking at the night sky and taking in all the glory of nyx and selene. His palms were placed on the cold rock and his body leaned against the wall. He stood in silence, well if we ignore the voices of the men down stairs - just like he did. He liked the silence, which was odd for him. Because, before gaining the crown, he was all for festivals and the loud nature of it. Some would even say, he was the one to speak the most.
But after having a taste of what being a king actually feels like, he wanted to be quiet, left alone, not disturbed. The annoying meetings he was stuck in was already getting to his brain, and if we add the parasites that were living in the palace - those 107 men that did not leave after he became the king- also, we wouldn't want to forget the absolute fuckery situation he was in,where he had to gain respect from the ithacan allies. He lost some of them because of his way of climbing up the hierarchy.
Sparta for example. He was pretty sure he already lost them as allies, considering that Penelope must have reached the land and spread the news like wildfire. And he knew that only in a matter of time, he would get a message of the alliance breaking off.
So,because of all of this happening, he was two seconds away from sending himself to Hades.
Oh, how the thing he craved turned into the very thing he hated now.
Maybe having somebody by his side would've helped him to calm down and tolerate everything that's going on, and everyone that's slowly turning his life into a boring, predictable routine.
But, besides his personal feelings, he felt the pressure of trying to rebuild ithaca. Trying to return it to how it was before the king went to war. Before the queen got consumed by grief. Before the suitors destroyed the supply by not worrying about how much they were eating, because now, it wasn't their food that they were eating. It wasn't made or harvested by their own,so they didn't care about how much they ate. That's all they did all day, even now. Eat, eat, drink, seduce the maids or the servants, try to humiliate the prince, try to flatter the queen, fight each other, boost their egos.
Has he done any of those? Yes, definitely. Was he regretting any of it? Probably. He's regretting not trying to become the king like this sooner, it would've made a difference.
As he looked into the horizon of the night sky, his brain circled back to one question he couldn't erase. It just stayed there, no matter what else he trued to think of, no matter how many people he talked to, or fucked. No matter how many meetings he got called in. His mind always hit him with this one question.
Where was telemachus? Where could the prince have gone? Nowhere in Ithaca island, he could tell you that. He couldn't find him. Which was becoming borderline painful. Every waking hour he thought of him. Every person he was with, either within sex or just formally arguing, he imagined 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘴.
With every servant he laid with, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 face flashed instead of the real persons one. And he loved it. Every time during those times, he would savour those seconds as it lasted. He would go harder, causing the poor servant to gasp and clutch onto the fabric spread over the bed.
But no matter what or who he did. It wasn't enough, it wasn't telemachus.
He wondered why his obsession grew for this boy. He was scrawny, too inexperienced in fighting, overly feminine for a guy. His dark wavy hair traveled down his back, a few strands hanging over his shoulders. The times couldn't have been counted, how many times he used the simple trick of grabbing the boy's hair to bring him down. How many times he humiliated him, telling him how he would look better as a prostitute, rather than being a prince.
Was he denying the prince's effort of being a person to fix everything? No. But it was so clear that one skinny boy wouldn't make anything come true. So he just told the truth. Telemachus was not even a pawn at the game that was being played within his family and the suitors. So it was no wonder that he neither won or lost. Well, he didn't know which it was. Maybe he's alive right now. Or maybe he's at the bottom of the ocean.
A knock on the door ripped him away from his thoughts. He turned back, crossing the room in a few steps as he cracked open the door.
"Sir, they have arrived." One of the servants said as they bowed in front of him.
"Tell them, I'll be there very soon." He ordered as he closed the door and walked over to the vanity. He fixed his cape and hair. While he also put on some golden jewelry. He didn't care if he made a good impression, no. This was just his routine. Most people thought he would be a messy person, time wise. But he was very cautious with it.
Soon, he opened the room and walked down the hallway, looking over as servants brought out more food for the suitors that haven't left. Or maids, who were left to clean up the mess.
In the whole batch of maids, only one could've been spotted very easily. Melantho, who was sitting very close to her lover, Eurymachus. Though he wondered when they would get married, he always noticed how his friend favored her in every way. Heck, we would say that they were one of the best couples he has ever known.
He walked past the chair where he would sit most of the day, while he was still a suitor.
He walked past other men, that were acting as a flood in 𝘩𝘪𝘴 palace.
And then, he walked past the column where the past prince used to lean on. Watching - inspecting- every single man in the room.
He pushed every feeling down, every memory of the past days, weeks, months or years.
He was focused on walking, just walking. His legs worked automatically as eventually he stepped near a door that led to the meeting room.
As the door was opened by some guards, he straightened his back and held his head up.
𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧. He thought.
________
And he was right.
Not only did they almost make his ears bleed by their annoying voice, they told him that he needed to go to some king , far away in the east for an agreement.
𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵... He thought to himself sarcastically.
So, he had to leave for weeks, spend the said weeks - half at sea and the other half in the kingdom. And then when he returned, this shit would go again as a cycle. But he still had to choose who would have the authority when he was gone. There weren't a lot of candidates. He trusted almost no one in these walls. He also 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰.
While walking to his room, he gave it a thought and decided that while he was away, Eurymachus would be his right hand man, who would stay here and take care of things while he was away. If he made any dumb choices, well, he wouldn't be there to see. So, he didn't care.
Soon, he returned to his room and took off the accessories.
And again, he stood by the window, staring out, looking at the waves in the sea.
"Where could've you Disappeared
.
.
.
Telemachus?"