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It had been about two or three weeks after the King’s return, which meant it had been two or three weeks after Athena and Odysseus’ reunion. He had reunited with her again afterwards, requesting her help in training Telemachus. She agreed, continuing what she had started with before his arrival after her encounter with Telemachus and the suitors.
One morning, during his training, Athena had placed a challenge upon the prince. The same magic boar his father had fought in his youth stood in front of him. The prince held his breath nervously, unsure of his own readiness. He faced the boar in front of him, trying to observe and figure out how he’d fight him. Before he knew it, the boar had launched himself at him. He immediately dodged it’s attack, striking it’s side with his sword. He began to back up; placing his sword in its place on his belt and grabbing his bow and arrow, quickly setting the arrow up and pulling it’s string. As the boar returned to face the prince, he let the arrow fly. He only slightly missed it’s head, the arrow striking the boar’s leg. Quickly and nervously, he grabbed another arrow and aimed at it’s head, but tripped on a rock behind him and sent it flying weakly upward and into his own leg. He winced in pain, yet quickly getting back up.
Unfortunately for Telemachus, the boar had already been racing in his direction, and before he could move out of it’s way, knocked him down once more. He quickly drew his sword once more and attempted to strike it’s legs and sides, but after a few strikes the sword flew out of his hand, slicing his palm.
For the prince’s sake, Athena removed the boar. Next to the goddess stood Odysseus, who had been watching the duel unfold.
“We will work on this,” declared the goddess, before retreating.
Odysseus immediately raced to his son’s side, checking his injuries. Telemachus laid there, breathing heavily. Odysseus held his son, supporting his back. He carefully removed the bow from his back and set it aside. “You must always be aware of your surroundings during battle, my son.”
Telemachus nodded, letting himself relax in his father’s arms. “How did you do it, father?” He asked, unsure of his own capabilities.
The king smiled, holding his son in a more secure hold as he took his son’s hand in his to observe his injury. “Well, I fought strategically Telemachus. There are many aspects of battle you must keep in mind.”
Odysseus then lifted his son, noting that with an arrow in his leg, it would be risky to walk. Telemachus slightly flinched in surprise, noticing how easily his father lifted him. “Are we sure that I’m capable of successful warfare, father?” He questioned, beginning to doubt himself.
Odysseus frowned slightly, as he walked towards his palace. “Don’t think in such a way my son,” he replied. “You are capable of it, I’m sure.”
He smiled at his son reassuringly as they entered the palace, where Penelope met them. She frowned in concern for her son, to which Odysseus smiled and nodded, signaling that their son will be okay. She immediately understood and smiled, walking up to him and leaving a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiled even more, winking at his wife as she returned to her duties. He took Telemachus to his bedroom, setting him down on his bed.
“I will be right back, stay here my son.” The king said, exiting the room.
The prince laid on his bed, his leg and palm bleeding. He could feel the blood flowing from his injuries, the feeling sending rushes of panic through his veins. He felt his heart rate increase, unsure of why. The blood flow of both injuries increased, as his breathing began to become raggedy. he sat up and removed his leg, the action sending a strong wave of pain through his whole leg, a sensation that forced a loud yelp out of the boy. He grasped onto his shirt as he attempted to calm himself down, the action proving to be unsuccessful.
Not even minutes afterwards, Odysseus burst into the room with bandages and medical materials. He noticed his son in distress and immediately focused his attention on him. “Hey, look at me.”
Telemachus, startled, looked at his father as he breathed heavily.
“Breathe. Follow me.”
Odysseus began to breathe in, holding his breath for a few seconds, then breathing out. He repeated this process until Telemachus started to follow it, then began to gently command each action until his heart rate slowed. He then took a ball of cotton, soaked it in alcohol and began dabbing it on his palm quickly. “This will burn.”
Telemachus hissed at the pain, wincing. He closed his eyes, reminding himself to control his breathing. He let his hand go limp, and relaxed his shoulders. After a few minutes, his palm was bandaged and taken care of.
Odysseus then shifted his focus to his leg, the arrow still sticking out of it. “Let me know if this hurts,” he warned, gently lifting both of his legs and setting them back on the bed. Telemachus hissed a bit at the motion which caused a wave of sharp pain through his leg, closing his eyes and tensing up. “Father- ow-“
“Easy, Telemachus, easy.” He reminded him. He then took a deep breath and grabbed the arrow. “Deep breath my son. Relax.”
Telemachus, knowing what was coming, tensed up yet tried to relax and calm down, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. Suddenly, a sharp yet short wave of pain shot through his leg, forcing a scream out of him. “Breathe, my son. Breathe,” Odysseus reassured him. “We are almost finished.”
Telemachus then took heavy breaths, ones that slowed into calmer, more smooth breaths. The king then grabbed a larger cotton ball and dabbed it around the wound. Telemachus hissed at the stinging wound again, tensing up once more. “Breathe Telemachus, breathe,” he murmured to himself, trying to breathe. Odysseus then quickly finished cleaning the wound, trying to be quick yet precise to put his son out of this misery. Fortunately, he finished bandaging his wound quickly.
“You’re all set. Relax, my son.”
Odysseus then sat at his side, observing his son who lay in the bed stained with his own blood. Telemachus immediately relaxed, swiping the sweat of stress off of his forehead.
“There there, Telemachus.” He lifted his son’s head and placed it on his thigh, massaging his scalp. “You’re okay.”
Telemachus hummed at the sensation, relaxing even further. “Thank you father.”
“Of course, my son. Rest now, we’ll continue training once you’re fully healed.” Odysseus reassured, removing his glasses from his face and placing them on the other side of the bed.
Telemachus smiled, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
Odysseus smiled at his sleeping son, grateful for this moment with him. After so many years apart, he longed for a moment like this.
A knock was heard on the bedroom door, which was revealed to have been Penelope. She noticed her son resting and smiled. She entered the room quietly, shutting the door behind her gently. She sat next to her husband, smiling warmly. “He loves you dearly, darling,” she whispered.
The king smiled lovingly, looking at his son resting on his thigh. He continued to massage his scalp lovingly.
“And I love him just as much.”