Odysseus sank into the edge of the bed, sitting with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped. He sat there in the silence, the weight of obligation pressing at his back. He might be here, but he was a broken man, missing pieces of himself to time and to loss. But she was here, and she had always been enough.
His voice broke the silence. “There were nights,” he whispered, “that I would have given anything to hear your voice, just for a moment.”
He felt Penelope stir behind him, but he did not turn.
“I am here now,” she replied softly, voice thick with sleep. She reached for him, gently laying a hand on his back.
“Yes,” he muttered, “but I fear… I am not whole.”
She moved, sitting behind him now. She pressed her cheek to his back, her warmth folding into him. “I know,” she whispered, and he could feel her breath against his skin, pulling him deeper into his sorrow. “Let me carry it with you, my king.”
He didn’t turn to meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to look at her as he pulled memories long buried into the present.
“Polites always laughed when the wind howled,” His voice catching, he cleared his throat, willing himself to continue. “He thought that courage and cleverness would be enough to challenge the storms.”
He felt her hand gently touch his arm. “And it wasn’t?”
“Courage is poor armor against a storm, queen,” he muttered, “or a king’s pride. When I told them to row harder, they did without question. He smiled even as the water swallowed him.”
He didn’t miss the way her breathing hitched. “He was loyal to you.”
“I was supposed to bring them home, bring all of them home.” His words tasted like ash on his tongue, tears threatening. “I left him to drown.”
Penelope moved without hesitation, circling her arms around his chest. She anchored him in this moment, into their bedroom and this life. “Odysseus,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.
“Do not pity me, wife,” He muttered, reaching up to clasp her hands in his. “I will bear the weight of my choices until I draw my final breath.” He pulled her hands up, pressing his lips to her skin, a kiss both fierce and fragile. “But I am home, I am here with you, and that is peace enough.”
19
“OH COUSIN, OPEN THE DOOR!” The call came from beyond her bedroom. Penelope rose from her place in front of the vanity, setting the brush down. She rolled her eyes as she pulled the oak door open, scoffing at the queen-to-be that stood on the other side.
“Helen,” she smiled, welcoming the older woman into the room. “Don’t you have kings to charm? Alliances to secure?” She teased. The cousins were more like sisters, along with Helen’s sister, Clytemnestra.
“Pen, please. Menelaus is a man of such high esteem. I will never have to lift a finger again.” Helen bragged with a sharp grin, opening the doors to the balcony. “Come, dear cousin. I hear the men are conducting some games today before they return to their kingdoms. Father says it’s for morale,”
Penelope followed, drawn by her cousin’s energy even as she arched a skeptical brow. “And you say?”
Helen grinned wickedly. “They just want an excuse to show off for any unpromised woman.”
They leaned against the railing, peering down at the gaggle of men below, joking and jeering. “What are they doing now?” Penelope asked, eyes scanning the crowds below. If someoneasked, she would deny that she was looking for anyone in particular…
A smirk graced Helen’s lips. “Foot races… and look, there goes your Ithacan.” She jabbed her elbow playfully into Penelope’s side.
“My Ithacan?” She quirked an eyebrow, voice dripping with feigned indifference. “I wasn’t aware I had one.”
She followed Helen’s outstretched finger to find a man at the front of the group, jogging backwards as he hurled friendly insults at the other men. “Odysseus of Ithaca,” she mused, a smile still etched onto her features. “Sharp as a blade, and twice as fast. I hear his tongue is silver, too.”
“He’s clever,” Penelope retorted.
“Mm,” Helen seemed unimpressed. “Small kingdom, big wit.”
Her lips twitched. “Big enough.”
A peal of laughter escaped from Helen. “You would know, Princess.” Penelope’s face flushed red as the attention of the men was drawn to where they stood. A blue-eyed gaze caught hers, his lips turning upwards in an arrogant smirk.
“No suitor looked at me like that…” Helen mused, sighing. Her smile softened as she looked to her cousin.
“Because they’re not Odysseus.” Her heart thrummed in her chest, fighting back the grin as she watched the Ithacan king rile up some of the men.
