“Telemachus-” Penelope tried to stop him, to stopthemfrom having it out right here in front of all the men of Ithaca.
“And now I hear you’ve made her defy gods? Throw decorum out the window? Defile courts?” His face was reddening, voice getting louder by the second. “Youpunched a king, father. I don’t think you’ve the right to reprimand me.”
His hands were steady and his face firm, even as he chastised them. He was every bit his father.
Penelope’s breath was stuck in her throat. She couldn’t see past the two men that stood in front of her. Her husband, her son, two sides of the same coin.
Her heart yearned to smooth, to take both father and son and mend the wounds that cut deep on both of their souls. She looked to Odysseus. His jaw was tense, muscles taut. He was calculating, thinking.
Eventually, he broke the destructive silence with a heavy exhale. “I know that you’re angry.” His voice was infinitely softer than Penelope had been expecting. “You have… so much of yourfather in your blood.” He let a sad laugh escape from his mouth, turning to face his wife. “Let’s go inside. Let’s talk with level heads, away from prying eyes and ears.”
Telemachus turned on his heels, storming away. It was the first time she saw herson, her tenderhearted prince, since he had walked out onto the beach to meet them.
“That went well.” Odysseus muttered, grimacing.
As they followed their son up the path to the palace, eyes were on them. There were whispers, there were bows, she was even certain she heard a few jeers. This was not the entrance she expected to make when they returned…
Once inside the castle, Odysseus shut the door of the meeting room quietly behind them. Before he had turned around fully, Telemachus was shouting. “You think we need to talk, father? No.” he was seething, the tips of his ears were reddening with his anger, “You owe me an explanation. OweIthacaan explanation.”
“Telemachus,” Penelope started, “I-”
“Do you have any idea what it’s been like? Waiting for word if I waskingor not? Waiting to hear if my mother had drowned at sea?” His eyes were alight as his words filled the room. “How would I have led a land full of people that wereridiculingyou, mother?”
He turned on Odysseus so quickly it made Penelope’s head spin. “Do you know how many people have asked me if my father has gone mad?” He sneered, eyes narrowing as he looked at the king. “If you’ve driven their queen to madness as well?”
He turned his back to them, dragging a hand through his hair. He did not look at them when he next spoke. “You were supposed to come home steady, mother. Come home levelheaded and lead Ithaca.” He took in a sharp breath, shoulders heaving. “Instead, you come home like this.” He gestured halfheartedly to them, disgust on his features.
“Do you know how I found out, Mother? Your ship came home without a king and a queen, and you were a laughing stock.” His hands were shaking. “King of Ithaca stood up to the Spartan royalty… what fools you both were. How dare you bring shame upon us like that?”
She felt Odysseus bristle as their son chided her. He was so calm, so patient — until he wasn’t. “What did you want, boy?” He said, voice dark. “A father to come home and bow at your feet?”
He dropped Penelope’s hand, taking a step closer to where their son stood, avoiding his gaze. “I have been lost at sea. Lost to the gods. Lost in war. Do you want me to apologize for finding my wayback to my wife?”
He slammed his fist into a nearby table, shattering the top of it. Both Telemachus and Penelope flinched at the sound. “You can speak of me like I’m mad, boy, but you are still my blood. What does that make you?”
Penelope’s hands were shaking, her heartbeat hammered in her ears as she watched her husband circling Telemachus like cornered prey.
Gathering herself, leveling her mind, she took the step forward, gently placing a hand on Odysseus’ arm. She waited until his wild eyes met hers before speaking. “You are not his king, Odysseus.” her voice was unwavering, “You are his father.”
She turned to Telemachus, “And I am still your mother, son.” She stepped towards him, chin high. “I have not changed, Telemachus. You… were raised by a shade of the woman I used to be. The woman Iwantto be.”
She did not break eye contact, even as she watched the color drain from his face. His rage, his ire, was replaced almost instantly. “I am the woman who breathed life into you. I am the woman who held this island together. I am the woman who waited.”
She turned back to Odysseus, her cheeks flushing lightly as she saw how he looked at her. His eyes were filled with adoration, with so much love. “But, Telemachus, if you believe for even a second that I would not throw everything I have built aside for your father, then you do not know me at all.”
Telemachus started to speak, then stopped. The weight of Penelope’s words hung in the air, covering the broken family like a blanket. “He is my world, son. You are my world. There is no me without him.”
She smiled at her husband, reaching out for him. She reached, too, for Telemachus, but he hesitated. “What happens when he leaves again, mother?” His voice was not as sharp, not as cutting. He took a step towards her, hesitant.
“Then I will name you king, my son, and follow him off the edge of the world.”
Odysseus, a smirk creeping onto his features, kissed her temple, holding her by the waist. Penelope grabbed Telemachus’ hand, pulling him to her and wrapping her son in an embrace. “We are a family of hot-headed fools.” She said with a watery laugh. “We will make each other angry. We will yell at each other. We didn’t have the opportunity to learn as we went.”
“Did you really punch Uncle Menelaus in the nose?” Telemachus asked, looking to his father. The queen’s heart clenched at the boyish thrill that flashed in her son’s eyes.
Penelope let out an exasperated groan, rolling her eyes as her husband’s face lit up. She jabbed him gently in the side. “Hush, son. Your father’s ego is barely containable as it is.”
Odysseus let out a loud laugh, shrugging his shoulders only slightly. “That’s between me, your mother, and the gods.”
