He’s only here to keep an eye on the suitors. A good thing about this party is it keeps the suitors occupied. They are no longer stalking around Penelope’s door. She is free to weave her tapestries in peace, for now.

Sipping from a goblet, Telemachus is leaning against the wall. His eyes observing the party going on in his own palace. He’s dressed with a toga draped around his waist. A leather and gold shoulder armor strapped to his upper body. Leather sandals strapped up to his knees. The suitors have made themselves at home. Drinking and laughing as if it were their own home. A group of musicians provide music to the background of laughter and loud talking. A soft sigh leaves Telemachus. A hound, Argos, sits at his feet. It seems the old dog is also keeping an eye on the suitors as well.

Telemachus walks to a table of food, which has been ravaged by the men. He picks up a couple grapes popping a few in his mouth.

A suitor walks up to the young prince. Drunkenly throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Why aren’t you having fun, little wolf? It’s a party!” He exclaimed. Some of his words slurring.

Telemachus clenched his jaw and pushed the man off of him. “You men are having enough fun for all of Ithaca.” he said darkly. Watching as the man stumbles off.