((A little bit of a twist, Telephone didn't set out on a diplomatic mission.))

After one long extensional crisis of Odysseus singing to himself in the bedroom about his depressing reality of having to choose a woman to replace Penelope, weaving and unweaving a shroud, some other dramatics about waiting for her. Then suddenly taking the abnormal storm as a sign. So, the challenge.

Odysseus and Telemachus stood at the front of the room where the suitresses were. In the back? A cloaked figure ((Penelope)) stood in the shadows. They exchange a glance before Odysseus spoke, the room fell into a hushed silence.

"Whoever can string my dear wife's old bow—" He lifted said bow slightly into the air "—and shoot through twelve axe heads cleanly—" He gestures to twelve axe heads lined up "—will be the new Queen and rule with me as her King. . ." One could hear how tied he was. Telemachus looks down, equally as tired as his father.

The suitresses didn't notice crap because they're all to cocky and think they'll be the next Queen.

Not long after the challenge is given, Odysseus and Telemachus leave. They don't want to deal with these ladies anymore ((They're off to be depressed divas.))

The walk through the hall was quiet, the only sound is their footsteps.

Telemachus looks up from the floor. "Father. . . do you think mom will return?"

Odysseus sighs, shaking his head solemnly. "I don't know anymore. . . It's been twenty years. . . I'm starting to think she's dead."

The Prince looks down quietly. . . he was losing hope too. He hasn't seen his mother in years. And he didn't know how much longer his dad can hold out. It was only a matter of time before the suitresses did something drastic*

{With the 108 suitresses}

{It's night. It's been hours. The challenge still isn't completed.}

The suitresses got frustrated. One stood up, their leader, Bloopina Skandalopoulou ((Yes. I know. The name is beautiful—)), and plotted with the 107 a plan to kill Telemachus and to do horrid things to Odysseus.

Bloopina steps onto a table, proud and prideful, unaware of the danger that lurks in the shadows, the other women chanting with her.

"Hold him down 'til the boy stops shakin', hold him down while I slit his throat Hold him down while I slowly break his pride, his trust, his faith and his bones. Cut him down into tiny pieces. Throw him down in the great below When the crown wonders where the prince is, only the ocean and I will know!!"

Bloopina points a knife in the air and steps down from the table.

"And when the deed is done, the King will have no one to stop us from breakin' his bedroom door, stop us from takin' his love and more. And then we'll hold him down while his gate is open. Hold him down while I get a taste~. Hold him down while we share his spoils. I will not let any part go to waste!!"

Horrible thing to say when Penelope is lurking.

While they were plotting? Penelope hid all their weapons in the armory. She took her bow, it's weight familiar in her hold, stringed the bow with ease, and aimed through the twelve axe heads

They kept plotting, it sounded like they were dying tbh or choaking. Penelope was traumatized.

Bloopina put her hands up in the air, stepping in line with the axe heads, a certain gleam in her eyes. "Channel the fire inside your soul, and—"

Penelope released the arrow, and it flew cleanly through the twelve axe heads and shot into her neck. Bloopina slowly went limp, blood spilling from her mouth and her eyes rolling back as she drops to the ground dead with a sickening thud.

It was deathly silent.

It's been. . . what? Twenty years? . . . and no sign of Penelope. No ships on the horizon. No fleet in sight. Just. Gone. Vanished. Odysseus sat in his study, not at the desk. On a couch in front of a burning fire, the golden embers glowing amber and gold, showering the room in a soft glow across the room, long shadows stretching where the light does not reach. In his hands was Penelope's crown, the very crown he once placed upon her head so long ago. The gold caught the light, reflecting the light like the color of fire dancing on water. My Penelope, my love, my light, my star, my everything, where are you? he thought, his grip tightening on the crown of a Queen he once held in his arms. A knock on the door. Odysseus lifted his head, "Who is it?" he called, his voice deep and heavy with a silent grief never cried and hope slowly turning to ash. ". . . Dad?" Telemachus's voice answered back. A smile found Odysseus's lips, warm and gentle, "Come in, son." The door creaked open and the prince stepped in, shutting the door behind him with a soft 'click'. He crossed the room, coming to sit beside his father on the velvet couch. The young man glanced at the crown in his father's hands, staring at it for a moment. Odysseus didn't speak, watching those eyes, the same as his mothers, met his. ". . . what was mother like?" Telemachus asked, his voice soft, curious of a woman he never met yet he calls his mom. Odysseus's gaze softened, he placed the crown gently on a side table, draping one arm over his sons' shoulders and pulling him close, "You're mother, was the most stubborn, witty, and most clever woman I have ever known."

{FREA— Thunder Bringer 🫠}

It's been ten years since Penelope left for Troy. Odysseus should have gone. IT SHOULD. HAVE. BEEN. HIM!! But it was her who went instead. . . and Odysseus feels guilty for letting her go to War. He was scared for his beloved wife, of what could happen to his sweet Penelope.

{Current time}

It was a starry, peaceful night in Ithaca.

Odysseus was asleep in his chamber ((probably dreaming of his wife)), when suddenly, he was sucked into a Divine Seeing ((pretty sure that's what they're called.)).

He sat up, blinking. It was raining. Once his vision adjusted to the dark, he froze. There she was. His sweet, lovely Penelope, on her knees on the deck of her ship, clutching her wounded side. Not that far behind her was her crew and her second in command, Athea.

Up in the sky above? Zeus.

Zeus tilted his head.

“Tell me, Penelope If I were to make you choose the lives of your soldiers and crew or your own, why do I think they'd lose?"

Silence.

Odysseus blinked.

"What. . . ?" *He muttered. He stood, slowly walking closer till he came to a stop a few feet behind her. He looks to her, her crew, to Zeus, and back. "Penelope, my love. . ."

She didn't answer. Because she couldn't see or hear him.

*Zeus says some other things before leaning forward.

"Choose."

“Choose?” Penelope echoed shakily.

“Someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say. " "You? Or your crew?” The thunder god folds his arms and leans back.

“Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me do this...” Penelope pleaded, voice horse and trembling.

Odysseus, fists clenched, whispers: “. . . she’s not supposed to be there. That was me. It was meant for me.” Odysseus falls to his knees. “She doesn’t have to. Not again. Let me—let me wake up. Let me go to her—LET ME GO TO HER!”

{Suffering}

It's been, what, twelve, ten years since Penelope last saw her husband and son? Gosh, she misses them greatly. Odysseus's stupid smile and that warm, deep voice that made her heart do flips. And Telemachus, the last she saw him he was a babe, small, tiny, chubby and absolutely adorable beyond words. She wonders how he's doing now. Though as she and her crew drifted across the sea, they came across a ship with no crew. Penelope, being the smart girly, she is, quickly put together that there were sirens nearby and instructed her whole crew to fill their ears with beeswax to block out the siren's song. Approaching a small cove of rocks, a figure emerged from the water and crawled up onto the rock. Turning, Penelope froze, coming face to face with a face she missed dearly. Odysseus. Those warm eyes, that dark, fluffy brown hair she used to toy with and run her fingers through, that tan smooth skin—OH GOSH. Why does that stupid handsome face have to show up while she's trying to maintain dignity— Wait. Why was he here? Isn't he supposed to be—? Oh. It's a siren. The siren wearing Odysseus's face leaned forward, a seductive gleam in those deep brown depths, "Don't you miss me~?" his voice was a melodic purr, his gaze taking in Penelope's figure, holding a charming facade in hopes of deceiving and luring the woman standing on the ship.

{The Challenge}

It was a quiet time in Ithaca. Odysseus was in his chambers dying on the floor, his soul evaporating from his body faster than the dad came back with the milk— NO. Odysseus was in his chambers sitting on the bed, holding Penelope's crown.

He was unaware of the fact that Penelope was listening just outside the door.

"I'm supposed to choose a suitor to wear the crown." He muttered, gazing at the crown softly, remember the day he put it on Penelope's head.

He lifts his gaze to a half-woven shroud. "I said I would choose as soon as I weave this shroud." He stood, putting the crown down gently on a table next to the bed and walking over the to shroud. "They don't know that every night, I unthread all the work I've done. 'Cause I'd rather lie, than allow them to think they've won." He sighed, lifting a hand to the shroud. "Though I never thought that I'd resort to this. Just know I'll be here. . ."

Suddenly, he turned, walking towards the window. "But I don't know how much longer I'll last since we saw that storm. And though it was so close to our kingdom, it was far from the norm, unless!" He opened the door to the balcony and walked out. "Oh, could it be some kinda sign, that my world is all about to change?" He looks back to Penelope's old bow—a bow only she could string and use. "Is it finally time for the challenge I arranged?" He walked over to the bow and picked it up in a secure hold, tracing the patterns carved into its wood. "Though I never thought that it would come to this. . ." He took a deep breath, turning to the door. "Just know I'll be here buying you time."

{Would You Fall In Love With Me Again}

Twenty years. . . Ten years of war, another ten years at sea fighting and struggling to keep alive, watching and sacrificing her crew, becoming a monster just to have the slightest hope of getting home, her hands now soaked with unfathomable quantiles of blood. Penelope is no longer the woman she once was. She isn't the same woman who was once kind and gentle. She is not the same woman who one cradled her son in her arms and sung lullaby's to sooth her child. She is not the same woman who held her husband in her arms and whispered sweet nothings to him when she lay beside him at night. She is not the girl Odysseus had fallen in love with. She hid in the shadows of her own palace cloaked as a beggar, watching as 108 'women' tried and failed to win her husband's heart. Then, he gave a challenge. To whomever could string the Queens's old bow and shoot through twelve axe heads cleanly, that woman would be crowned queen and take up the throne to rule alongside Odysseus. Twelve axe heads. . . and her bow. Gosh, she should've kissed him right then and there. It was clearly a way to get the suitors off his back, but man was it clever. But clearly, the suitresses had other plans. Having gotten fed up and frustrated with no success in completing the challenge Odysseys set out, they plotted to swarm Prince Telemachus upon his return to Ithaca from his diplomatic mission and kill him, cut him up and cast him into the sea where he will never be found, then with Odysseus having no one to keep him safe, they'd hold him down and take him for themselves. Naturally, Penelope was pissed by this plan. These arrogant, egotistical leaches had just plotted to kill her son and r*pe her husband! EXCUSE ME?! The Queen reacted by picking up her old bow, stringing it effortlessly. While Bloopina, the apparent 'leader' of the suitors, was plotting she mistakenly stepped into line with the twelve axe heads where Penelope promptly, shot through all twelve axe heads, and killed Penelope all in one go. To which after, she turned to the other suitors and began slaughtering them all through the shadows and dark halls. Telemachus had returned at some point in this slaughter and did patriate and killing the suitors for a short moment.

After killing all the suitors, she has a heartwarming reunion with her son and an encounter with her old mentor, Ares. Then, of course, it was time. Time to finally, finally reunite with her lovely husband, Odysseus. She found herself speaking his name before she could stop herself, "Odysseus. . ." the name was a sacred prayer on her lips. When she had stepped into the familiar yet foreign room, she swore her heart almost stopped. Because there, standing on the balcony was her Odysseus. As handsome and as regale as the day she had left to War. She swore she fell in love with him all over again in that moment, watching him in the sunlight. In the moment, she was sixteen again, laying her eyes on him for the first time all over again. Twenty years, and he still makes her weak in the knees. Then, he turned, and Penelope froze all over again as his deep brown gaze found hers. Odysseu's himself froze, because standing there, right in the doorway of their chambers, the woman he had missed deeply, dreamt of to many times, worried about more times than he can count, wondered if she was okay, alive, safe, uncharm, or if she was in danger or worse— . . . dead. Yet here she was, scared and changed from battle, but alive. He missed that gorgeous face more than he thought he did. It was silent for a moment, before he took a step forward, slow, steady, "Is it you?" he asked her, almost hesitant to believe this was real, "Have my prayers been answered?" He stopped beneath the arch way of the balcony, his hand resting against the stone, the other raised as if to reach out to her, "Is it really you standing there? Or am I dreaming once more?" Taking in her appearance, his gaze softened. She looked tired, not in the way sleep can fix. "You look different, your eyes look tired. Your frame is lighter. . . your smile torn." A single step forward, "Is it really you, my love?"