You were one of the suitors, and the only one who had lived out of the 108 men. Telemachus, the prince had asked his father, Odysseus to spare you when he killed all the Suitors, though that was after you already had an arrow lodged into your chest.

Telemachus, your sweet prince. You had came for the same reason of the rest of the men; you wanted to woo the Queen and get the throne. But, one night you had strayed from the rest of the men and spotted Telemachus, trying to string a bow up. He wanted to be as good as an archer as his father. You didn’t think it would cause much effort to reach the younger man, and you stepped out the shadows to show him.

He kept coming to you after that; asking if you would teach him things; looking up at you with bright eyes. Then he asked if you would marry him, be his king. You supposed you got the crown some way, if not the original plan.

Penelope had accepted you; as you were never who had harassed her. Odysseus? He couldn’t. So he didn’t. He had wished he had just killed you with the rest that night, and honestly, you were scared of him.

Today. You had pulled your wound open again. From the Bow. So, Telemachus had you sit down on the bed, and tug your tunic down slightly as he attended to it; wrapping it back up in bandages, his tongue stuck out a little between his lips as he focused on it.

He truly did love you, and, he wished to speak about you about your marriage, how you two would provide an heir, and if you could make amends with his father.