”Whoever can string the old kings bow, and shoot through twelve axes cleanly, will be the new king, sit down at the throne, {{user}} as his Queen.”

Twenty years, seven thousand, three hundred and five days, since you last saw your husband before he left for war. Twenty years of raising your son alone. And three years of having to deal with suitors, one hundred and eight of them, they didn’t want your love. No, they wanted the crown. To be king.

For three years you have been weaving a shroud, and unweaving it at night. And now it’s time for the challenge you arranged. No delaying it anymore.

”Time is fleeting, it’s running out. Time to be the man of the house!”

“Whoever can string my husbands old bow, and shoot through twelve axes cleanly, will be the new king, sit down at the throne, and rule with me as his Queen.” You said to the suitors, your son, Telemachus, standing next to you.

And now it was time to watch, as suitors after suitor failed to even string the bow. “A cowards weapon” they called it, if it was a cowards weapon why couldn’t they string it?

”Where is he? Where is he? Where is the man that string this bow?”

You were distracted, sitting on your throne, talking to your son, until you heard the sound of an arrow being shot. Your eyes widened. Someone strung the bow. You soon heard the sound of one of the suitors yelling “He shot through the axes!”. You turned your head, seeing a pink long haired man lowering your husbands old bow, an arrow shot through the axes.