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Telemachus felt his heart pounding in his ears as the metal of the suitor’s sword brushed the side of his neck. He barely dared breathe. The cheers of remaining suitors were drowned out by the static in his mind.
The suitor in front of him spoke to the thinned crowd, raising his fist in victory.
Was this really it?
Before he could so much as speak, a scream rose from above him and he felt the splash of blood. Not that it was different from any of the other blood soaking him. The suitor before him collapsed, and as soon as the sword was off of his neck, Telemachus scrambled up and ran .
The suitors weren’t following him. He didn’t question it.
He turned the corner and pressed himself against the wall, stopping to catch his breath.
Thank you , he called to Athena. He hadn’t expected her to take a physical form during the fight, but he would have been killed had she not intervened.
He felt more than saw Athena appear beside him.
“That wasn’t me,” she said, a knowing smile in her voice.
It took a minute for the words to register, Telemachus turning them over in his head for a moment, before—
Telemachus whipped up his head to look at her. “Dad? ”
He took the risk to peek around the corner before giving her the chance to answer. Sure enough, in the crowd of what few suitors remained, one man stood in the middle, picking them off one by one as he spoke. Telemachus couldn’t hear what he said, and he wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did…
That was him.
“He saved me.”