Penelope shut her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. Gods help her. This man was impossible. “An oaf would know if he didn't let me leave this room. He’d be explaining to his father why his wife never arrived for their introduction.”
Odysseus stilled for a beat, just a beat, before huffing dramatically and stepping back. “Fine,” he sighed, resting a hand over his heart. “I will allow you to leave.”
She turned to him, unimpressed. “You will allow me?”
He grinned, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead before heading for the door. “Come, wife. My father is waiting.”
She steeled herself, following behind him as they navigated the halls of the palace. In the few moments they had escaped from their rooms, she had met members of the Ithacan staff. They smiled at her, at them, as they walked the halls now.
As they neared the main gate, Odysseus paused, offering his arm to her. “He’s a good man, Penelope.” He said, suddenly. “People think… I hear them talk…”
She furrowed her brow, looking up at him. “Odysseus…” she started, gently laying her other hand on his arm. “I thought no differently. He raised you. He has to be a good man.”
The king chuckled, shaking his head.
Much to Penelope’s dismay, it took the pair no time at all before they stood at the door to Laertes’ house. Her heart was lodged in her throat. She was doing everything she could to keep her hands from trembling.
She had spent her life in the presence of kings. Why was she so shaken now?
Odysseus pushed the door open, dropping her hand. She steeled herself as she followed behind him, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her.
It was so easy for her to fall back into the expectations that had been drilled into her head since birth, to be the dutiful wife she had been trained to be.
“My son,” a voice came from inside the home, “Finally made time for your doddering father?” The voice carried mirth, a tone so similar to the one she had heard in her husband’s words many times.
“Father,” Odysseus replied, and though she couldn’t see it, she heard the smile in his tone. “I have news to share.”
His father entered the room, grey hair tied back, hunched slightly. Penelope did her best not to stare, not to look anywhere but at the floor in front of her.
“My my, Odysseus.” His father mused, looking her up and down. Despite her best effort, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks underneath the old man’s scrutiny. “What’s a pretty lady like this doing, following your dogged self around?”
She tried to fight it, but the corners of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “This pretty lady,” her husband started, stepping aside so his father could see, “is my wife.”
“Since when?”
“Since three nights ago.”
“By whom?”
“By us.”
“Ah,” his father noted. Penelope took this moment to look at the man standing in front of her.
He looked so much like Odysseus, it made her heart ache. The same mischievous smile, the same furrowed brow, the same wild eyes. “My son,” Laertes continued, catching her eye, “where did you find such a queen?”
Odysseus laughed, throwing his head backwards with the act. A piece of Penelope’s heart unclenched as she saw how free he was here. He wasn’t trying to hide the man he was.
The man she loved.
“I stole her, father.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, grinning down at his wife. “Stole her right from the Spartan shores.”
“That’s not true-” Penelope interrupted him. She immediately clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide in fear. She knew better than to correct kings, then to interrupt men when they were meeting. She had been raised better.
“Oh, my queen.” His father wore a toothy grin, eyes trained on Penelope. “Please, my son is an expert at falsehoods. Share your story with this old man.”
“I-” she spluttered, caught off guard. She willed her hands to stop trembling before she met his gaze. “It was my idea to sneak away. I knew that-” Penelope stopped herself, worrying her bottom lip as she glanced at Odysseus.
Her husband was radiant. His entire being was alight as he watched her, captivated by her every word. “Knew what,Princess?” He asked, voice darker than she expected. His eyes narrowed, if only slightly, asking his own question in his gaze.
