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 Refusing to attend would be no use. The meeting would proceed with or without his presence; better to stand in the room and be seen than to be spoken of behind a closed door.

Eyes barely divert from their conversations as the great hall doors close behind him. His councilmen, once his fathers, are already seated at the long table. Whilst many had passed through the moral coil in the decade of his father's absence, a few still lived, old, wizened men, eyes dulled by cataracts. They were walking relics of the past, moved by tradition; a hush falls over the men as he moves towards the head seat.

Most suitors clearly hadn't been invited, although his stomach sinks as he sees a familiar face in the crowd. A knot of men has formed, their voices low though indistinct murmurs carried across the stone floor. One is Echephron, a red-faced suitor older than his mother, whose name is printed at the bottom of the parchment rolled up in the prince's pocket. He's locked in conversation with Antinous, whose blue eyes flick up as Telemachus sits, quick and assessing.

'Gentlemen, I believe it would now be appropriate to get this council meeting started. Seeing as the Prince has decided to grace us with his presence.'

The scrape of chairs filled the hall, a sound too loud for the confined space, as suitors settled into their seats. Antinous reclines on his seat as if it's a golden throne rather than a hard wooden bench; his fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the polished wood. He's seated two down from the head of the table, in between his most loyal followers.

Without addressing his prince, Echephron rises from his seat. With each word he tilts his body further from Telemachus, though he's careful never to turn his back fully. His address is clearly to the suitors; Telemachus and his senile old council are there only as a courtesy. “Ships have been sighted off the southern coast. Not merchants. Pirates.”

Telemachus' stomach drops, pirates weren't a thing of mystical fantasy like they were one he was a mere boy. He knows of the realities of pirates: raids at dawn, plumes of smoke curling over the dark sea, men dying in water too shallow to drown in.

The men at the table were hounds if not wolves, the scent of fear rolls off Telemachus and he knows they can smell it. He has his people to protect, but no way to protect them. No battle experience to draw upon. The suitor nearest him stares, awaiting a response, though his raised brow suggests he's already ready to dismiss it.

Telemachus looks beyond him. Antinous sits unnervingly still, his shoulders have lost their relaxed tilt, and the man sits rigidly. His face doesn't show fear, though something uneasy flickers behind the calm, apprehension bleeds out of his pale, seaglass eyes. For a moment his gaze meets Telemachus’, his head tilted, and the challenge clear. He’s the first suitor to break the silence. 'Double the guard watch on the southern cliffs and we'll assign men to patrol every harbour until we know the threat has passed. ' He meets Telemachus' eyes before he speaks again, 'In return for the warm reception I received upon arriving in Ithaca, I'll handle this matter, Young Prince.'

In some ways, he's fortunate Antinous took charge, though he knows  this chips away at those thin pieces of power he's so far managed to keep. Without his blessing, the men rise from the table, even his council stumbling onto their feet. Through the throng of men he glimpses  Antinous slipping through the doors, without a word passed to his fellow suitors.

A moment of hesitation does not pass before Telemachus rises from his seat. For once he's glad he's beneath the notice of the suitors as he exits the council chamber. Antinous isn't difficult to follow. His gait isn't heavy, in contrary, he moves like a wolf, powerful and yet graceful. But when he walks, the slap of his sandals reverberates in the corridor, reminding everyone he's there.

Telemachus keeps to the edges of each corridor, he follows till the palace corridors narrow in on themselves, giving way to old, abandoned passages. Continuing along, Antinous' footfall grows fainter, as the older man picks up pace. They must be beyond castle walls now, down corridors he never dared explore as a child or teen. Torches become few and far between until they cease to be at all. The stone is cold under his fingers, he keeps one hand braced as he follows, his ears straining to hear.

He feels exposed without his guards, vulnerable like a wound stripped of its scab. Every sound seems to echo; the scrape of his sandals, the whisper of his cloak, the rhythm of his own breath amplified. All of it unmistakably human.

Turning a corner, darkness breaks into sudden startling light. The old corridors end as abruptly as they began, opening onto a narrow alleyway ahead. He hesitates at the threshold, there’s a salty tang to the air that lets him know they’ve travelled far, near to the coast. He stands between rows of stone homes, through the windows, he sees the soft pulse of hearth fires. Smoke drifts above, swirling in the air till it fades away.

He's lost sight of Antinous, the alley stretches ahead, empty, the moonlight spilling across the stones. He takes a single step forward, uncertain, it feels sound in the stillness. Hands seize him from behind. The shock drives the breath from his chest. He thrashes, elbow catching air, shoulder slamming backward. The grip only tightens, vice-like on his arms

A voice cuts through the struggle, low and close enough that he feels a breath brush his ear, 'Easy, prince,' Antinous says. 'You’ll wake the whole island.'

Telemachus jerks free, spinning to face him. Antinous stands half in shadow, the moonlight cutting across his face — pale, composed, and faintly amused. 'You knew I was there,' Telemachus says, breathing still uneven.

Antinous smirks, 'Of course I did. You walk like a boy that's never had to hide. Hard to miss.'

'You left the council in a rush.' Telemachus straightens, accusation dancing on his lip. ' What are you hiding?'

'Nothing that concerns you,' Antinous replies. 'You’re out of your depth, little wolf . Pirates aren’t a story told over wine. They’re men who carve kingdoms from the bones of boys who think they’re ready.'  The glint of anxiety that sparked in the council meeting is back in his eyes. Though he turns his head before it can be studied.

Telemachus steps closer. 'Something has you afraid.'

'Afraid? No. Cautious. There’s a difference.'  Antinous’ expression hardens, his eyes unreadable. 'I told you earlier not to worry your pretty little head about it. It's the least I can do.' He turns, his back exposed to Telemachus like he's not a threat. 'It’s not safe out here for a pup like you. Plenty of big wolves about tonight.'

Telemachus bristles. 'You mean yourself?'

Antinous laughs softly, already walking away. 'Go back inside, prince. Before one of them decides to bite.'

Telemachus can't see the smirk tugging at his mouth, though the mockery embedded in his tone gets the point across. Stood on the straight alley, he stands at a crossroads. It would be absurd to follow any further, he could well be on his way to a brothel or retreat into his own home. Walking back to the palace with his tail between his legs feels unmanageable, though only Antinous would know of that humiliation... Until he tells the other hundred suitors that is.

He's dithered enough that Antinous has slipped away, already swallowed by the shadows. He tells himself that's his decision made for him as he walks to the mouth of the corridor. The air feels cooler as he takes his first step. He doesn't hear a sound as much as he feels a disturbance in the air, more obvious than when he was grabbed moments before. Deciding to give Antinous a mouthful even if he can't stop him, he tries to spin around.

The movement is halted before it can begin. An arm coils around his waist, crushing his ribs until he can’t draw breath. The grip is iron, deliberate. Before he can twist free, a cloth presses against his mouth and nose, something herbal but wrong. Something cold scrapes against his skin, heavy rings biting into his jaw.  His head swims and his struggles weaken, but a voice cuts through, 'Look what we have here.'

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