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Language:
English
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Published:
2024-12-31
Completed:
2025-01-25
Words:
72,738
Chapters:
34/34
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82
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A tragedy spun into art.

Chapter 2: ~The Wolf~

Notes:

I am hardly editing this- I split this into four parts, ngl it was like 8k words-

Filth is chapter 4 and the filthiest i have ever written in my life is 5 which i am not re-reading lmao

Chapter Text

Startled by the tap on your shoulder, you freeze. Initially, your instinct would be to turn around, but that would be a dumb idea. The only thing keeping your identity unrecognizable is the hood over your head. The second you turn, the man would see your face. “Now, what do we have here?” His tone is deep and dark, rough with age, but still youthful. You Want a better look at him but push the curiosity away.

Survival is the top priority, your only priority. You clench your hands by your sides, thankful for the robe that makes it hard to disconcert your gender with your back to the man. You do your best to keep your voice low, to add a roughness to it. “Nothing.” You whisper out while your heartbeat becomes an audible thrum in your chest.

The man’s grip tightens on your shoulder. You can tell it’s only a fraction of his strength. “Is that so? Nothing is just sneaking around the Palace halls?” His voice hisses, but there’s no sign of anger or malice. It’s simply deep and taunting.

“It’s nothing you can concern yourself with.” You hiss, clenching your teeth. The implication is obvious in your words, your tone. He’s not high enough up to know what you were doing. You purposefully make it sound like you were on an errand for somebody.

The silence passes by for several breaths before his breath touches the fabric of your hood. “You’re bold.” He sneers, agitation showing through the slip of hissed air through clenched teeth.

When his free hand reaches for the fabric of your hood, your hand raises to hit against the pressure point of his wrist as you duck grabbing the fabric. For a moment there’s no reaction, so you gamble that took him by surprise. “Try that again. I’ll hit you in a less than pleasant spot.” You spit, keeping your head down in the shadows as you face him, putting distance between your bodies.

His lips curl into a smirk while you get as good a look as you can in the darkness.

His hair falls around his shoulders in dark curls. There’s a scar over his eye that crinkles with his snarl. That snarl shows off pointed canines as he stands straight. He’s tall, much taller than you had thought in your mind, and he’s clearly muscular. You got lucky being able to give him the slip like that.

He steps closer and you take a step back, making sure you keep your distance from him. You don’t know any of the suitors… who’s a danger and who isn’t. You never asked for names, and Telemachus never shared any. He made it a goal to keep you out of the loop, to keep you from worrying about him.

You whip your head around the side, stepping aside with a glare. There are more of them? “I’m afraid I can’t stay to chat with you, men.” You could try to pass by the two behind you or slip around the larger man. It’s a gamble, but you don’t think he seemed too quick.

You take a sharp breath and lunge, throwing yourself over the floor and between the man’s ankles, twisting to a standing position the second you’re behind him. You flip him off. “That is for cornering me… prick.” You scoff and take off.

The two who had been behind you go to chase, but the man holds his hand up, gold rings glinting in the moonlight that reflected off them. “Why let him run off, Antinous?”

Antinous, the man, stands tall staring at the end of the hall where you’d run off and disappeared from view. For a brief moment, as you slipped beneath him, he saw the tug of fabric pulling against curves, got a glimpse of your eyes… He can be clever compared to some of the dull idiots in this group of 108. “It makes the hunt more… interesting.” That was not a man… a woman slipped through his fingers… he eyes narrow. Luck that is what it was. He was busy trying to gather who you were. He wasn’t focussed on watching for an attack. He could have grabbed you in that escape. He chose not to stomp on your limbs. He chose not to snatch your wrist or the fabric of your cloak.

You slip into your room out of breath and leaning against the door. Your heart hammered as you pulled down the hood. He let you go. You’re not an idiot to think you did that without a hitch. It was close, too close for comfort. Yet, that was… fun.

You smile to yourself, pacing around the room. You have never felt so… excited… so full of adrenaline. His face shows up behind your eyes as you take a deep breath.

Maybe it’s because you’ve only interacted with Telemachus and Penelope that you’re so thrilled by the interaction. He looked like a beast deciding whether or not you were prey to be consumed. It drove your heart a million miles. Despite the encounter having been brief, you can’t get it out of your head.

You should be worried. You should be more concerned about your safety. But you’re not. There isn’t a drop of concern in your veins as you slide down the door, holding a hand to your chest. His voice, his face, how he held himself… the definition of arrogance, pride, and ego.

~

Antinous stepped into the room he’d taken over in the wing the suitors had claimed. He sat on his bed staring at the wall, dangling his knife in his hand. Why was a woman sneaking around the castle? He’d waited after seeing the cloaked figure enter the queen’s chambers. He’d been curious to see if this was connected to where the little prince had been.

He planted himself in the shadows around a corner. When the figure dipped there at the sound of footsteps, he figured the person had to be connected to the hall and that room. Even though you darted the opposite way… he simply figures you were smart enough to cover your tracks. It’s a good attempt, but why would you have been down that way if you hadn’t been headed towards that abandoned hall?

Antinous stabs his wall with a low scoff. A woman caught him by surprise, a woman hit his wrist and he hadn’t been quick enough to grab her. It would be amusing if it didn’t agitate him. He should have grabbed her, picked her off the floor, or yanked her when she was getting her footing. He should have shown the wench her place.

She had the nerve to add to her performance with a graceless motion.

It’s infuriating. He enjoys the hunt. That’s why he let her go. He’ll unmask her at some point. The longer the hunt, the more rewarding the prize. He runs a hand through his hair as he forms a plan. He’ll see how much of an idiot the woman is tomorrow.

He’ll wait in the same spot.