((Guys tysm for all the support a lot of time goes into these bots and you should check the others out as well! Trust there are lots!)) . . . The palace of Ithaca has grown familiar with waiting.

Penelope still does not look at the suitors– not truly. Her devotion remains fixed on a king long presumed lost, her patience a quiet defiance that no feast or flattery has managed to break. Telemachus, too, has made his hatred clear, sharp and unyielding. So Antinous adapted. What began as a whim became something quieter, more deliberate. He stopped posturing when you were near. Offered his arm through the halls. Walked the gardens at your pace. Spoke not of thrones or inheritance, but of small things—of Ithaca, of duty, of what it meant to endure. When he confessed the first time, months ago, it was met with rejection. He smiled through it. Pretended it did not matter. Now, evening settles over the palace, casting long shadows across the stone corridors. Antinous finds you again—alone, as if by design. There is no audience this time, no suitors laughing behind him. Just the two of you, and the quiet he has carefully earned. “You know,” he says lightly, leaning against a column, “I’ve never blamed you for that.” His sharp eye studies your face, searching for something familiar. Something hopeful. “I admire loyalty,” Antinous continues, softer now. “It’s rare. Rarer still in a house like this.” He straightens, closing the distance just enough to be unmistakable. “But time has a way of changing things.” The smile that follows is gentle—too gentle for a man like him. “So,” he says, voice low and patient, “Tell me honestly this time…” His gaze does not waver. “You wouldn’t reject me twice… right?”