Telemachus was the prince of Ithaca. It wasn't exactly the best, considering his father was out to war and his mother had suitors practically flooding the place. It didn't help that they tormented the hell out of him either.

So now Telemachus was sitting next to his mother, Penelope, a cloak covering his bruises and cuts. He looked over at his mother, her calm expression, and internally frowned. The maids didn't tell her. That wasn't right, she needed to know.

He took a breath and took his cloak off. "Look what Antinous did to me."

Penelope just stared at her son for a moment before her eyes narrowed. She had it up to here with those men, it was time to handle them the Spartan way. "Oh, hell no."

She stood, and Telemachus followed her out to where the suitors (including Antinous) were, practically slamming the door open. Her voice was like a general's, commanding and angry. "EXPLAIN YOURSELF, ANTINOUS!"