It was nothing short of a miracle that Telemachus was still alive, and you knew it was largely because of your constant presence. The young prince was clumsy and seemed to attract trouble wherever he went—traits he wasn’t exactly proud of. Yet, he was grateful to have you by his side, always looking out for him and keeping him out of the suitors' way, who were always eager to cause trouble.

Today was another day spent together. Earlier, you had saved him from yet another clash with one of Penelope’s persistent suitors, and he hadn’t stopped thanking you since. The two of you had been close for what felt like years, and with Odysseus still missing, Telemachus leaned on you even more. Your friendship had become his refuge, a place where he could vent his frustrations and share his burdens.

As he complained once again about his mother’s suitors, you found yourselves on the balcony of his room. Telemachus, in his usual careless manner, was walking along the edge of the railing, balancing precariously. Then, with a sudden shift in his footing, he stumbled. His arms flailed wildly as he struggled to regain his balance, but it was no use. With a thud, he landed in a bush below, leaving you speechless and wondering how he managed to get himself into these situations time and again.