The dad and the alive

by Ax1ma_theone

Summary:

"i dont want you getting closer to him. " Penelope murmured, her head tilting to look down at the man sitting beneath the tree. "he endured enough suffering from you. he doesn't need anymore."

"i have done nothing no him." antinous spoke, sharp with defense. "i made sure thah no other harmed -"

"you murdered his mate in cold blood!" penelope snapped, her hand smacking the man's face. "i watched as you ripped his heart out of his chest." she said, her voice dripping with rage and hatred.

antinous' face contorted in confusion as he starred up at the woman.

"i did not gouge out his heart." he murmured.

it was true. he never gouged out telemachus' lover's heart.

"i stabbed him in the stomach."

... 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?

Chapter 1

A muffled scream rang through the room. His face stained with tears as he held Melantho's hand - almost crushing the bones. Her fingers gripped his hand with equal force as she wiped away the sweat from his forehead.

“Shh, you'll be alright.” She whispered to Telemachus as he gripped his stomach in pain, his back hunched over.

“I….i cant…” Telemachus cried as a jolt of pain shot through his abdomen. He looked up to meet Melantho's eyes with a terrified expression. “Mom…where's mom?” He murmured.

“She's coming. She'll be here in just a few minutes.” She tried to reassure him, patting his shoulder with her other hand. If she had to be truthful right now, even she wanted Penelope to appear and comfort the boy. Melantho knew that she had never been the one to calm someone down, especially in these types of situations.

Both of their faces twisted in pain as Telemachus' body got hit with another contraction - and as his grip on her hand got tighter. Melantho's hand - already getting blue from Telemachus’ tight grip.

His back hunched as he sobbed from the jolts of pain in his body, and a voice in his head, constantly telling him the worst outcomes this would have.

He looked up at her once more. “Mel…mel, what if i…what if she doesn't survive?” He panicked.

 

Melantho met his eyes, lifting her other hand to hold his shoulder. “Listen here, Telemachus. You and this child will both survive this.” She said, trying to soothe his mind. “Also, do not say that, I almost slapped you just because of those words.” she added.

Telemachus chuckled a little, using his trembling hand to brush away the hair that was stuck to his face.

He really wanted his mom right now. He just wanted her presence, to know that she was here.

“TELEMACHUS!” a voice chimed in as a woman appeared in the doorway. Her hand gripping the doorway, as she stared at her son. Her breathing heavy.

His head snapped up. Feeling a bit relieved when he finally saw his mother.

“oh, my Boy.” She spoke as she ran up to telemachus and cupped his face, looking at him up and down. “how are you holding up?” Penelope wiped away the tears that spilled her son's eyes.

“It hurts,mom.” He breathed deeply, burying his face into her hands. “Everything hurts.”

Penelope brought him into her embrace, brushing his hair gently. “I know, sweetie.” She whispered - knowing exactly what he meant. Her gaze met melantho's and signaled her to get euryclea in the room sooner.

The girl slowly let go of Telemachus’ hand, showing him a comforting smile before bolting out from the room.

Penelope held telemachus in her arms, wrapping an arm around his waist as she guided him to lay down on a nearby bed. Instinctively - she slid a pillow beneath his back, the arch relieving him of some pain.

Telemachus stared at the door, waiting for a specific man to appear and hold his hand through this. Even though it wasn't traditional thing to do, he had said that he would be there for him through it all.

“Where is he?” He murmured, looking up at his mom. This whole day he hasn't seen his love. And he was growing nervous because of that. But he reminded himself of the promise Pethaménos made, and tried to not think of anything horrible.

“He's…he'll be here soon.” Penelope spoke carefully, as if she was trying to not shatter a thin piece of glass. As if she was hiding something. And Telemachus quickly picked up on that.

“Mom, what happened to him?” He stared up at her with wide and teary eyes.

She stayed silent, her lips pressed in a tight line. Her hand reached out to wipe away another stray tear from her son's face.

“No…” he gasped. “No, no. Please tell me he didn't….” Telemachus’ hands gripped his mom's elbow.
“Mom…please, tell me he didn't.”

Penelope's gaze didn't look away, or become any more softer than it already was. Her other hand shifted from Telemachus’ hair as she held it up for him to see.

And he saw blood - smeared on her hand.

“He's dead.”

_____

 

“You promised me that you wouldn't get in a fight with them!” Telemachus yelled as he turned around to face him. This wasn't the first time they had an argument about pethaménos getting into a fight with the suitors. But telemachus wanted for this to be the last that they would ever speak about it.

“They were disrespecting you! I couldn't have let that happen!” Pethaménos spoke, stepping closer to the prince. His cheek was starting to get blue as the bruise became more prominent.

“Yes you could've!” He snapped. “You can ignore them. Their words don't affect me, or anybody.”

Worry filled Telemachus' voice. And pethamenos could feel it. He could also see as the prince winced, his hand reaching up to his stomach and wrapping around the abdomen.

They stood in silence for a moment. pethaménos - his gaze shifting between Telemachus’ abdomen and his eyes.

He slowly took a step forward, not wanting to startle his lover.

“Telemachus….” He whispered. His hand sliding over the other's. “Are you…..”

“Yes….” The prince spoke sternly, looking down at his stomach. “Yes, I am with child.” Telemachus said as his hand reached out to hold Pethaménos' hand. “And that's why I don't want to lose you.”

They gazed into each other's eyes. The prince wondered how his lover would react. Would he leave? Would he stay? Ignore him forever?

Pethamenos’ hands wrapped around Telemachus' waist as he pulled him tighter, bringing his head into his neck.

“I'm going to be a father.” He murmured, a shocked smile glued on his face.

The prince's gaze softened, realizing that he could absolutely trust the man to not run away.

“Yes….” He spoke. A chuckle leaving his lips. “Yes, you will be.”

Pethaménos took no longer time and put his hands beneath the prince's arms, lifting telemachus up in the air, spinning him around. The sudden act made him gasp and he quickly clutched his lover's shoulders. But after a few spins, pethaménos returned him to his feet.

“Im going to cherish you, my love.” He said, with a bright smile on his face.

“I believe so, darling.” Telemachus murmured, placing a soft kiss onto his lips.

______

 

A final scream rang out in the room before a high pitched crying was heard. His back hunched over as he gripped his knees. Telemachus lost the ability to be aware of his surroundings hours ago. He was exhausted. He felt ripped apart - and he was. His body trembled as blood continued to spill down his legs. He wanted to look at her - his daughter. But he felt like he couldn't even move his head. A ringing tone filled his ears as he sat - unmoving.

He saw his mother, felt her hands cupping his face. She was moving her lips - saying something to him. But he couldn't hear it. He saw her expression grow from kind to confused, to terrified. She turned her head and called for someone. But he couldn't understand who.

His vision started to get blurry, dark. He couldn't feel anything. But his mother still stayed in front of him, comforting him through everything. She seemed so scared. Maybe she was. Maybe she thought that she was going to lose her son. A life for a life. Just like how Odysseus was forced to go to war soon after Telemachus was born - a life was taken from her while a new one stayed with her. There was a chance that this was going to be exactly like that. But there was a major difference, she wasn't going to let her son die. Not when he had so much to live for. Not when he hasn't seen his daughter yet.

Just as Penelope shook Telemachus' shoulders, trying to awake him. But he kept slipping into unconsciousness. His eyes kept closing. Penelope turned to the others to at least try and do something - call the doctor, help her awake him - anything.

“Danae.” a faint whisper - she heard. She snapped her head back, looking at her son. Tears fell from her eyes as she murmured to telemachus to stay with her.

“Name her danae.” He whispered before closing his eyes and going limp.

Penelope cried out, pulling her son into her chest and sobbing. Her tears falling onto telemachus’ skin. She felt as if someone ripped open her chest and clawed out her heart. She couldn't accept that she lost her child. She wouldn't. How could she? She wouldn't even accept the loss of her husband. But nobody even knew he was dead. With telemachus, she had solid proof of his death. His limp body was held in her arms as she wailed for him to return to her.

In the corner, two women were already taking care of Penelope's grandchild - Telemachus' daughter. It was as if the small child could feel the loss of her mother and cried stronger than any normal child would've after being born.

Euryclea slowly stepped closer to Penelope. She just stood there, unmoving and quiet. Silent tears fell from her eyes. Sadness filled her heart. She had raised the boy, told him of his father and the stories of the gods and heroes. She was there when he got his first scar. She laughed at his flustered behavior as he told her and Penelope of his lover. And now, both of them were lost on the same day.

Maybe it was fated like that. Maybe they were meant to reunite with each other in the underworld.

But why so soon?

Chapter 2

Summary:

Mother grieves angrier than anyone.

Notes:

Good luck,my lovely readers. Just know, i kinda got emotional and cried while writing this chaper.....sending kisses.

Days passed, the corpse started to rot, but Penelope still stayed by her son's side.

She still hadn't given him a funeral. He still wasn't burned. His soul still remedied on earth, maybe roaming around in the palace halls. Maybe making sure that his daughter got treated good. Maybe getting his heart broken at the sight of his own mom crying over his death.

𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱. - Penelope told herself or anyone who would listen.

She treated the corpse as if it was still alive.

Well, to anyone else, the soul of Telemachus already left the body, the only thing left was a vessel. But that wasn't the case for Penelope. Her son was still there, she knew it. She would yell at anybody who tried to tell her otherwise. And they would look at her woth the same pitiful expression.

And this day was the same.

She sat on a chair, next to the bed her son laid on. Talking to him about Danae. Even though she wasn't getting a response, Penelope didn't care. To her, it was like any other day, just her talking to her dearest boy. Even though every single glance towards his body brought her the greatest pain. She held his hand, caressing it, kissing the knuckles. She kissed his forehead and cupped his cheeks, just like how she did back then.

She didn't leave his room. Even at night, she would just fall asleep while she sat next to him. Even if it meant that she would wake up with sore muscles and hurt limbs. Every single glance at her granddaughter felt like she was being stabbed with a dagger. She hated the fact that danae looked so much like Telemachus. She held Danae sometimes, showing her the mother she lost. Penelope never tried to blame the child for the loss of her son, she never wanted to do it. But sometimes things that you don't want to happen. Sometimes, she stared at her grandchild with eyes filled with hatred.

“She has your eyes, my dearest boy.” She told Telemachus, biting her lips to stop herself from sobbing when she got no response. “Oh, Telemachus…” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “She…she cries a lot.” Penelope chuckled. “She cries for her mom. Just like you used to…but…she doesnt-” a sob cut her off from finishing that sentence as she slaped a hand over her mouth.

She got up from the chair and sat down onto the bed, taking Telemachus’ hand into her's. Her fingers caressed his knuckles as her lips trembled from holding in sobs.

She smiled while looking at him.

The smile couldn't have been described. That small motion of lips held so many emotions. Grief, pride, sadness, longing, happiness, love. The smile showed it all.

She was proud and happy that she was able to raise such a brave boy, she loved her son more than anything. But the price of loving someone so dearly is high, and when you lose them, the outcome is severe.

𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥.

And Penelope felt that.

She spent countless hours talking to her son, begging him to open his eyes and just prove to her that he was there.

Each attempt met with silence.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.she brought her free hand up to his head, pushing his hair away from his face. He used to have thick hair. It was so thick that Penelope lost count on how many combs broke as she tried to brush his hair. But that changed when he got pregnant with Danae, his hair started to become thinner and thinner. And there were moments when Telemachus would make snark comments to penthamenos and blame him for it. Then, Penelope and melantho would laugh at the couple’s petty argument, while Eurycleia tried to calm them down.

Oh, how she missed those moments. They seemed so small and forgetful at the time, but now, it was those moments that brought her pain.

Penelope straightened up, her back leaning against the bedpost. She held Telemachus’ hand, her eyes staring at the small open wounds on his palm, caused by his nails digging into his skin during the labour. Her fingers traced them as her soft voice filled the silent room.

Penelope started humming a familiar tone - a lullaby she used to sing to Telemachus when he was a small child. A song she made one night and remembered somehow. It always managed to calm the young boy. It always somehow brought a smile to his face.

“𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺.
𝘉𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘺”

Her heart wrenched at the words.

She would rather hear his cry right now than see him be so still and silent. She would rather hug his son and sing to him a calming melody to calm him down rather than sing to Telemachus as he was forever asleep.

“𝘚𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.
𝘍𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘐'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
𝘚𝘶𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 - 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯.”

Tears trailed down her cheeks. Her lips trembled as she felt a lump growing in her throat.

“𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦,
𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘥.
𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦,
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘥.”

Sobs cracked her voice, her mind cursing the path her fate took to take the people she cared so much about.

“𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸-”

Her cries cut off her words. Unable to continue singing any longer.

Penelope brought her knees up to her chest, her son's hand still in her grip. She was scared of losing him - even now, when she already lost him. She kissed Telemachus’ palm as tears dripped from her chin.

She looked down at him as she put his hand down. Turning herself around, she wrapped her arms underneath Telemachus arms. Slowly and gently lifting his body, placing him into her lap - she hugged him. She hugged his unmoving corpse. Letting his head lean against the crook of her neck. Penelope sobbed quietly. She remembered how Telemachus hated to see or hear her cry. She remembered how he was always there to comfort her and wipe away her tears. Right now, she needed that comfort more than anything.

“My baby,” Her voice trembled. Her fingers running through Telemachus’ hair. “Youre my baby.” Her eyes shut closed, her body rocking back and forth, as if she held a toddler. “Say it to me.” Penelope begged. Her cries ringing out into the room.

As she wept for her son, as her tears soaked her face, the door slowly creaked open and a young girl appeared into the doorway. Her figure seemed anxious and scared. “Lady Penelope…” She murmured.

“What is it?” Penelope said, trying to sound calm to the poor girl.

“The…the suitors, they want - 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 - your appearance in the hall.” The poor girl spoke, her eyes never daring to glance up to Penelope.

The queen's brows furrowed, her nose scrunching up in rage and hatred. “my sweetheart, please tell them that I'm not available right now. Tell them I am asleep.” she said calmly, her face turning to look at the maid.

The girl nodded. “Of course, my lady.” She murmured as she noticed her crying and angry expression. She turned around, closing the door before walking away.

Penelope rested her head onto Telemachus’ shoulder, her eyes closing as she relaxed against the bedpost, bringing her son's body deeper into her embrace. She hummed the melody of the same lullaby again, as she closed her eyes. Her voice faded more and more as she fell into a calm sleep.

_____

she shifted in the bed, her eyes opening as she slowly woke up. Her gaze stared at darkness, only a slight moonlight shading the room.

Her brows furrowed as she realized the furniture in the room was different than the room she fell asleep in. Her head immediately snapped towards the other side of her bed, her hands reaching out to find Telemachus’ body.

Panic overcame her senses as she realized her son was nowhere near her. Her legs tangled into her blanket as she tried to get up from the bed. Her breathing grew heavier, her hand quickly working to rip away the fabric.

Penelope got up from the bed, her legs leading her out of the room as if she had no control over her body. As if she was supposed to go somewhere. She strode down the hallways, her dress flowing with each step. Her heart burned with a dreaded feeling.

Penelope realized something, the palace was quiet - too quiet. No noises of men's laughter or women's chatter filled the air. Even for the night, it was quiet.

She slowed down her steps, her eyes looking around to see if there was any danger, but it didn't seem like it. There wasn't a trace of any bad thing that might have happened. But the feeling of dread still hadn't left her heart.

And now, as she stood in front of the door that led to the dining hall, a sick smell of blood filled her nose. Her hands trembled as she raised them to unlock the door. She found that weird. The lock wasn't supposed to be on the outside. None of the rooms in the palace had a door that locked from the outside. But, somehow, this one had it that way now.

Her fingers worked through the lock, the metal making a loud noise as it slid out from the ring. Penelope took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before slowly and gently opening the door, as if she was scared of either making too much noise or breaking it somehow.

The two pieces of wood parted as the scene in front of her unfolded, making her body freeze.

The room was 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 in blood. You wouldn't even be able to walk on the floor without drencing your feet. Corpses were scattered around the hall, their faces contorted into horrifying expressions, their jaws broken and eyes - gouged out. Some's stomachs were ripped or cut open, their guts spilling out. Some didn't have a limb, and most of their heads were dropped from their body.

The suitors were dead.

Just as Penelope thought she could relax, she saw a figure in the middle of the room. His back was facing her, his clothes and skin covered with blood as a sword rested by his side. His back was slouching as his hands moved to bring something up to his face.

Penelope took a quiet step forward, her hands clutching her dress as she stepped over the corpses. “Who are you?” She called out, her voice still hoarse from sleep and breathless from running.

The man stopped moving. He turned his face a little, but enough to see his profile. He had no eyes, nor a nose. Only a mouth that was covered with blood. With a hoarse voice, he responded to the queen. “I'm…” he murmured, his tongue leaping out to lick his lips. He brought his palm to his mouth, his tongue tasting the dark liquid that dripped down his wrist. Just when a satisfied sigh rang out in the dark and quiet room, he spoke up again. “I'm nobody.”

The queen's face contorted with disgust, her brows furrowing as she tried to move her gaze from the man. But as she lifted her foot, ready to walk closer, she halted her steps, her gaze freezing at the laying corpse in front of the faceless man.

It was her son.

The corpse this man was feeding from, it was Telemachus.

Her eyes widened, the grip of her hands tightened on her dress. She saw the chest of her son - ripped open, blood dripping down the skin as the man's hands slid inside the wound, ripping out the beating heart. He took it to his lips and sunk his teeth into the flesh. The room filled with the disgusting noises of the man feasting on Telemachus’ heart. He did it so effortlessly too, with no break, not even for breathing, not to gag. He just chewed and swallowed the flesh.

As Penelope stood next to him, trying not to throw up at tye scene, he finally pulled the heart away from him. His head tilted up, towards her. “I loved him.” The man murmured, with - now, a familiar voice. “But, I couldn't get his heart,” That moment was when a distinct features started to show on the man's face. His skin began to darken, gold sliding up his wrists like liquid before solidifying, as if reversing its melted state. Black hair grew from his scalp, quickly falling down his neck. “Until now.” He looked up, locking his bloodshot eyes with Penelope.

The queen gasped at the sight, the words making her stomach twist with a weird feeling. “𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘴.” She spat out. Her hands released the already wrinkled fabric as she gleared down at the man, her eyes widening. But the tears felt heavier than water. Her gaze grew redder.

The room fell into silence as the two stared at each other. Wind gushed from the window, the fresh air washing out the smell of blood.

Penelope's dress flowed fast with the wind. Her bloody tears stained the white fabric.

The weird thing about the scene was that the clothes on Antinous' body stayed completely calm, not moving a single second. The red fabric was dripping with the darker colored blood of hundreds of people, his arms and legs painted with the color red as a lighter shade, glowing liquid dripping down his chin to his chest.

The mother knelt down next to the man, picking up a dagger that was left fallen on the floor. Her hands worked fast as she thrusted the blade deep into the man's chest.

Antinous accepted the act calmly, not moving a single inch as Penelope twisted the knife deeper into him. He didn't make a pained noise. He just stared at her, as if not regretting, but still apologising for what he had done.

“𝘔𝘰𝘮”

A pained voice rang out, making Penelope look up.

To her horror, the man turned into her son. It was no longer antinous that kneeled in front of her, it was Telemachus, who held her wrist, looking at her with a betrayed expression.

“What…” the mother murmured, her eyes widening with regret. Her hands were trying and pulling out the blade, but it couldn't be done. The metal infused with his skin, the golden color mixing with his innocent flesh. “No…no,no,NO!” Penelope screamed, her nails sinking into Telemachus’ skin to dig out the blade. “stay alive!” Her eyes were drenched with blood. Feeling the flesh tighten around her fingers - she cringed. “You can't die! Not again!” Penelope yelled.

“𝘔𝘰𝘮.” Telemachus murmured, his hands sneaking around his mother’s wrist. “𝘖𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.” His gaze softened, his voice pleading. “𝘔𝘰𝘮…” while her son begged, Penelope was too focused on trying to pull the knife out from his body, trying to save her son this time.

“𝘮𝘰𝘮,𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱.”

She was ripped out from the dream as her body shot up. She was there, in the room she was before she fell asleep. In the same room she held Telemachus.

𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘴.

“Mom.”

Her gaze snapped to her side, seeing her son's open,hazy eyes as tears streamed down his face. His hands held her shoulders, the grip tightening with each sob.

“Telemachus…” she whispered, completely in awe. “Youre…you're alive…”

“MOM!” The son cried out as he wrapped his arms around his mother's shoulders, his face buried into the crook of her neck. “Im alive.” He sobbed.

Penelope couldn't cry at that moment, she wanted to - but somehow couldn't. Her arms wrapped around Telemachus’ and brought him tighter into her embrace. Her hand sliding into his hair - showing how she wouldn't let anything rip him from her again.

As she looked around the room, she saw an owl. It was just staring at them, before turning its body towards the window and bolting away from the room, as if it was satisfied with getting a job done.

And just like that, two mothers got the chance to meet their child.

Notes:

Alr so, i wanna say that :

The dark blood of suitors on antinous, represents the sins they have done. And Telemachus' blood was lighter and it kind of had a glowing effect- whih represents his innocence.

Also, when the wind starts to gush, Penelope's dress starts to flow freely and blood tears run down her eyes, that's her rage. And when her bloody tears stained the white dress, that means that she was getting angry. Because the white dress meant her calm mind that was still Grieving.

And the fact that antinous’ clothes didnt flow or the fact that he didnt bleed when he got stabbed, means that he didnt regret his actions.

And yea, cannibalism represents the fact that if antinous couldn't have Telemachus heart, he would get it in some kind of way.

The lullaby was created by my friend on discord and ill pass along her message.

" when you write the lullaby into the fic the dad and the alive, make sure you also credit the Prince of Egypt song called’Deliver Us’ in the notes cuz that’s where I based mine off."