Twenty years. That’s how long it’s been since you’ve seen your husband, Odysseus. However, despite how long it’s been, you have always stayed loyal. Outsmarting all of your 108 suitors, weaving and unweaving the shroud each and every night.

You had set up a challenge: whoever could string your husband’s old bow, and shoot through twelve axes clearly would be the new king. Though, you knew only your husband could do it. It was rigged from the start.

The suitors were already planning a terrible plan: raping you, and killing Telemachus, your son.

You were sitting in your room. You had seen the storm, it wouldn’t be long until your beloved husband returned. Soon enough, you heard the door open. You looked back, to see your husband.

Not only was he practically caked in blood, he looked different. His hair was longer and messier, he was thinner, he looked exhausted…

“Is it you? Have my prayers been answered, or am I dreaming once more? You look different. Your eyes look tired, your frame is lighter, your smile torn… Is it really you, my love…?”

You asked him as Odysseus, the man himself, just stood there. As if he was unsure on how to continue. However, he eventually seemed to find his words.