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Penelope watched from the mast as Odysseus commanded his rowers closer and closer to their home. Ithaca's rocky cliffs slowly came into view, piercing through the wine-dark sea and azure sky.
Penelope hadn't thought she would ever see it again after being taken from Ithaca nearly 3 years ago, waking up suddenly miles from her husband's land with a baby to deliver. She had never felt so much despair as she did when she had woken up in that strange city.
Ithaca was not her homeland, in truth. She was a foreign princess who had been granted the title of queen, but she knew she had a long way to go before people respected her outside her association of her husband. And now? Being a stolen bride forced to share a bed with her captor? What would they think of her now?
What she thought had been isolating in Ithaca had become volatile in Ilium. While she still had Cephalonian customs and ways to learn in Ithaca, the culture was still one she was familiar with, as they had many of the same gods and festivals as they did in Sparta. This was not a luxury she had in Troy. In Troy they dressed differently, ate different foods, and had different rituals to perform. And the people reviled her.
They reviled her presence in how she brought a fleet of a thousand ships to Troy's shores. How their sons had to die in a war caused by her being there. As if she had a choice in the matter. As if she hadn't screamed at Paris to let her go even before Odysseus brought war to the land to get her back.
She thought she knew the isolation of a foreign land before, but it was nothing compared to what she experienced in that cursed city. Women glaring at her as she passed. People not bothering to lower their voices when they called her a whore. Men trying to feel her body when Paris was distracted, and laughing her off when she brought up her complaints. A candlestick being tipped over to drape hot wax on her skin. The way Hector had stared at Telemachus for too long after a long battle outside. The dread she felt every time her son was out of her sight, wondering if that night was the night someone would slit his throat, leaving her with nothing to live for.
Before, even when she struggled with the noble women of Ithaca, she had her Odysseus to come back to at the end of the day. His love for her was the only warm thing she felt she had some days. In Troy, she didn't even have that.
She had tried once, to cut her face with a sharp end of a broken comb, on one of her worst days. She knew that Odysseus would never forgive her for ending her life. Telemachus would certainly be executed, used as a bargaining tool, or raised to be a slave. But for a moment, nothing else mattered beside making the pain stop. She thought maybe if she scarred her face, Paris would let her go. He always had a fascination with the finer and beautiful things in life. If she was no longer fine or beautiful, would he release her from this prison?
It hadn't worked. She cut and cut until blood was dropped on the floor and for a moment felt relief. But all at once, the wounds closed themselves and her skin was left unmarked as a scent of roses filled the room. She felt an unwelcome but smooth voice in her head whisper that she was never to try that again or there would be consequences. The dread she felt hearing that goddess again was enough to deter her from trying again.
So while she had a difficult time in Ithaca before, she knew it would be nothing compared to what she had endured for the past few years.
Odysseus had insisted to her, alone in their room on the ship, that any slander to her name would not be tolerated.
"You are my wife. My woman." Odysseus had said to her as he held her forehead to his. "What that coward did to you has no bearing on your worth. You title remains Ithaca's queen. Your place in my house remains the same. And I will destroy anyone who thinks or says otherwise."
This mentality was seen on their voyage home. All the men on the ship had treated Penelope with a lot of respect. Some even bowing their head when she walked past. It was a peculiar feeling to be someone worth revering. She hadn't felt like that in a long time.
What was unclear was how Odysseus' family would act around her. Some of the initial resentment of her had come from her lack of ability to have produce an heir. That resentment had mostly gone away once she had finally gotten pregnant. Things were still strained at times, but their relationship had gotten far better. And surely Laertes and Anticlea knew that she had not left Ithaca willingly.
Penelope's doubts still persisted. She feared that sleeping with another man (however how unwillingly) would cause their relationship to revert back to what it was. That the noble women would scoff at her the moment Odysseus' back was turned.
Her hands were tied now. There was no force in this world that would part her from her Odysseus now. She has a son to raise, and her son's future was here in Ithaca. She would stay to her weavings day in and day out if that was needed. Perhaps no one needed to see her at all.
Odysseus had looked toward her a few times as she leaned against the mast. Keeping his fleet running efficiently took up a lot of his time, so during their journey to Ithaca Penelope had mostly stayed in their room below deck with Telemachus. It wasn't large, but it was private. While the crew of the ship had been respectful to her, there were primarily men on board, and Penelope still didn't like the gaze of so many staring at her figure anymore even through her veil.
Once she knew that they would make it to shore that day, she had put Telemachus down for a nap so he would have enough energy to make through a lot of introductions.
By her estimation, they would make it to dock in the next hour or so, so she went to collect Telemachus.
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Once Telemachus had risen and eaten, Penelope dressed him in a fine child tunic that her father had gifted him. Child clothing wasn't radically different between Achaea and Troy, but it still pleased Penelope to see her son in some proper Greek tunics. She had plans to weave him a new wardrobe once they settled in.
She left the cabin for the slaves on board to pack up as she took Telemachus on to the deck. He was big enough that he could stand on his own, but she still worried that he would fall if a large wave came by. She resorted to firmly holding his hand for now.
They were close enough now that Penelope could see the town dock and a crowd forming.
"Do you know where we are, Telemachus?" Penelope asked.
Telemachus scrunched his brow for a moment. "Ith-ca?"
Penelope smiled. "Ith-a-ca, that's right! This is going to be where we live now."
Telemachus looked out over the sea again. "This is where Papa is from?"
"Yes. It's where you're from, too. It's just been a long time since we've been here."
Odysseus had spotted them and walked over with a smile.
"Papa!" Telemachus cried.
Odysseus swooped down and lifted him onto his broad shoulders, Telemachus laughing the whole way and kicked his feet in excitement once settled.
"We'll reach shore in a few minutes, and we'll get off first. You two will stay close to me as I make my victory speech."
Penelope smiled at the sight of her son's joy. "Of course, my lord."
He set Telemachus down and went below deck to put on a nicer tunic for their departure and to fetch his circlet. When the ship docked, he came out again and reached his hand out to Penelope.
"Lets be off then, love."
Penelope reached down to pick Telemachus up, perching him on her hip. Having him so close was a comfort to her in many ways. She didn't want him losing balance and falling into the water, and she wanted him to stay close as they go through this overwhelming day together. Additionally, having a son that resembles his father, the king, so closely is beneficial to her. It proves her place in this house and shows what she contributes. Despite the harsh things they must've said about her while she was away, no one can contest that her son is Odysseus' blood.
Odysseus leads her off the plank and towards the crowd gathering nearby. Penelope's eyes scan through the crowd. In the back of the crowd and closer to a large chariot, she sees Odysseus' family. Laertes holds on to his cane in one hand and his wife in another. His health is often a delicate thing, but he seems to be well today. Ctimene, Odysseus' sister, and her daughters stands next to him. Ctimene primarily spends her time on nearby Same and her husband Eurylochus' house. Eurylochus, Odysseus' second-in-command, had come with him to war, so she had likely come to Ithaca as soon as word had spread that the war was over.
The two of them had never been close. Penelope, in the first year of her marriage, had sought companionship from her as she integrated into her new home, but had only found resentment. However, Penelope had fond memories of playing with her cousins as a child, so she hoped that even if Penelope was still resented in this house, Telemachus would not have those issues. He will be raised as an Ithacan through and through.
Just as she looked through the crowd, she saw the crowd look back at her. Her and Telemachus. Many people seemed to recognize her, even after all these years. She had done her best to be present and sociable at festivals in Ithaca before she was stolen. There had been celebrations held once her pregnancy was announced, and therefore people quickly understood just who Telemachus was.
Odysseus found a clear and elevated place to speak and began, Penelope and Telemachus just behind him.
"Ithacans!" He cried. "When our fleet left three years ago, it was a dark day. Our holy rites of Xenia dishonored. Our palace robbed and my wife, with child, stolen. Our mighty lands' name besmirched for not being strong enough to stop it. I set off with our fleet to right these wrongs and to show those filthy Trojans what happens when they dare steal from Cephalonia and disrespect our gods."
The crowd became more fired up at the mention of the Trojans.
"I am pleased to report," Odysseus continued, "that not only was our war successful. Not only did I reclaim my wife and child. Not only did we unite Achaea to aide us in our plight. Not only did we burn Ilium to the ground. Not only did I slaughter many of the cursed sons of Priam myself. Not only did we take great treasures from that golden city to store in our own vaults. We did all of this without losing a single solider."
Cheers went through the crowds. Relieved mothers and delighted children and overjoyed wives. No one would be widowed or fatherless this time.
"By all counts, our war was a complete and total victory. A victory not only for me, but a victory for all of Ithaca and all of Cephalonia. We showed the world what happens when you try to disrespect our good country. Hoo-rah, hoo-rah, hoo-rah!" Odysseus chanted.
The crowd chanted back. "Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah!"
The chant went on for a minute or so as the crowds became more and more excited. Even Telemachus started shouting along, not wanting to be left out.
After the chatter died down, Odysseus began again.
"Because of our kingdom's great efforts, I was able to reclaim my wife and child, who stand beside me now. While we are all gathered, I would like to formally introduce and claim my son. Your prince, Telemachus, heir to the Ithacan throne!"
At that, Penelope stepped forward to be even with Odysseus and gave everyone a better look at Telemachus. There were cheers all throughout the crowd, and Penelope could see Anticlea crying in the back.
Telemachus looked up at Penelope in a slightly confused look, likely due to all of the noise at the mention of his name. Knowing he likes to mimic, Penelope waved her hand, and he soon followed. This pleased the crowd.
"Your husbands, fathers, and sons will be returned to you shortly." Odysseus continued. "We've had a long voyage home. Court will resume in a fortnight as we get settled, but for now, let us feast on our good pleasures and victories! Thank you."
At that, Odysseus stepped away, took Penelope's hand, and made way to his family.
It had only been a few years, but the war had aged Anticlea. Worry lines streamed across her face. As soon as Odysseus drew close, she leaped at him and held him tight. He let go of Penelope's hand to envelope her.
"Mother..." Odysseus mumbled softly against her head.
"Oh my sweet boy." Anticlea cried. "You came back. This war didn't take you."
Penelope smiled at the scene. If Telemachus ever left her to go on a dangerous trip, she would be just as worried. If Odysseus truly had been injured on his quest to get her back, Penelope would have been beside herself in grief.
"Mama?" Telemachus was peering up at her. "Mama, who's that?"
Penelope ruffled his hair. "That's your grandma, Papa's Mama!"
"Papa has a Mama?"
"Mmm hmm. And a Papa of his own! That's Papa's Papa over there with the cane, and this lady is Papa's sister!"
Ctimene gave a polite wave, eyes softening at the sight of Telemachus, but seemed to still be looking for her husband. Laertes looked joyous at the sight of his son returning, and seemed very interested in Telemachus.
While Anticlea still clinged to Odysseus, Penelope walked over to Laertes with Telemachus. "Can you say 'hello grandpa'?"
"Hello Grandpa!"
Laertes smiled wide. "Hello there, my boy. It is very nice to meet you."
"Thank you!"
"It's good to be back." Penelope said. Laertes gave her a thoughtful look.
Just then, Anticlea pried herself away from Odysseus and started fawning over her grandson. "Look at him! Telemachus, was it?"
She looked at Penelope, with some emotion Penelope couldn't place. "He's a fine boy."
Penelope's polite smile turned to be more genuine. "He is, would you like to hold him?"
Penelope still wasn't certain exactly where they stood. Odysseus cared for his mother greatly, and therefore her opinion on things still held some weight. Giving a grandmother an opportunity with their grandchild is a quick way to win them over. It's hard to be angry when a child is in your lap.
Anticlea was elated to hold Telemachus. He kept looking back at Penelope, for approval or just in confusion. He had been passed around quite a bit over the past month, especially in Sparta when her father and brothers and cousins all wanted to hold him. A sharp contrast to their time in Troy, when Penelope only permitted herself and some handmaids to hold him. Whenever Paris tried, she snatched him back as soon as she could. She could never trust a Trojan with her son.
But there would be no one to come and slit Telemachus' throat in Ithaca. No one here to wish him ill or to drop him from a high wall. This is his home and his people now.
Soon, they made their way to the chariot set to take them to the palace, leaving only Ctimene and her daughters behind. The way wasn't far, but it was still a welcome luxury. Odysseus also made sure to send a messenger with instructions to begin to prepare the necessary sacrifices for their victory in battle and safe arrival home.
Penelope found herself missing Ithaca more than she thought she would. After being trapped in stone walls and heavy silks and perfume, the fresh breeze was a welcome change. She saw the vibrant colors of the forest just outside the town, the wonderful fabrics being sold on the streets, and the beautiful stone temples. Even the ocean was beautiful, despite her having to be on it for many days this past month. She saw the fountain that Odysseus showed her when she first arrived, the merchants who sold the wool she liked for her weavings, and the crowning jewel: the wonderful palace that Odysseus had built for her.
A world that was once unfamiliar to her was a comfort now. She remembered this place. And with her son and her husband by her side, she had a place here.
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The Ithacan palace was largely how Penelope remembered. The marble pillars, the pristine furniture made by her husband, and the tapestries she made proudly displayed on every wall.
Odysseus had taken Telemachus in his arms, giving detailed descriptions of the palace he had built. Telemachus nodded along, but his head drooped slightly. It would be time for his nap soon.
While Odysseus carried Telemachus off with Laertes in tow, Anticlea and Penelope met with Eurycleia so Penelope could be updated on what she had missed while she was gone. Anticlea had taken up most of the duties of being the woman of the house in Penelope's absence. Clothing and jewels would to be fetched for Telemachus, mostly taken from Odysseus' old collection.
"Telemachus will be needing his own staff." Penelope said.
"I have some slaves in mind who would do nicely. I'll send them shortly. Is there a room selected for the prince?"
"Not yet." Penelope left to find Odysseus. He was admiring one of her first tapestries made for Ithaca depicting Pallas Athena and telling Telemachus about his matron goddess.
"Telemachus?"
He turned at the sound of her voice. "Mama?"
"Would you like to pick which room you're staying in?"
"An excellent idea!" Odysseus beamed. "Let's go to the family wing."
When Penelope had told Odysseus that she wanted to have a lot of children with him, Odysseus had made sure that there was plenty of space in their palace to accommodate them for when the time came. Penelope had locked these dreams inside her heart when it had taken so long for them to conceive Telemachus. How could she wish and pray for so many when it took her so long to have even one? Her heart yearned for more, for all those rooms to be filled. Looking at their vacancy and lifelessness left Penelope feeling empty as well. They were a testimony to her failed capabilities.
This infertility had been a boon in Troy. Penelope would not have survived bearing Paris' child. She would have cut it out of her and taken herself with it. She did not maintain her health while she was in captivity partially for this very reason. If she could hardly produce a child as the top of her health, surely her body wouldn't betray her in conceiving when it was at its lowest.
When she could, she had taken the silphium and pennyroyal she found in the garden, in moderation when she could. Not enough to be noticed. Enough that she found herself ill, though not so far gone she couldn't take care of Telemachus. The purpose was two-fold. Being so sick often closed her womb, as her monthly bleeds came far less often (though she often worried this meant the opposite of a closed womb). The other was that Paris was less inclined to be around her when she was feeling so nauseous. Though, this didn't always stop him, which Penelope learned the hard way.
Her health had gotten better since Odysseus rescued her. He had made sure she had plenty to eat. His insistence and the hearty meals she had received in Sparta had her feeling far better every day. She had had her monthly bleed return to her on their trip back, which assured her that there would be no remnant of Paris' touch in or on her once the bruises had fully healed. She would only have Odysseus' children or none at all.
Seeing the empty children rooms now brought different feelings. With the birth of Telemachus, her place with Odysseus was secure. She had lost years of her life to her captivity, but she was still many years of childbearing in front of her. Perhaps she wouldn't be able to produce the scores of children she initially dreamed about, but she should have more than enough time to have a few more before she was too old to. These rooms can be a symbol of hope once again.
Odysseus set Telemachus down. "Alright, my boy." Telemachus beamed. "Which room would like to have?"
Telemachus' eyes went wide. "Any room?"
"Any one you'd like."
Telemachus turned to Penelope. "Mama, which one is your room?"
"My room is down the hall more. I share it with Papa."
"You share with Papa?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I like Papa. And Papa likes me."
"Can I share your room, too?"
Penelope laughed a little. "No, dearest. Young boys like you get your own rooms."
"But I like Mama!"
Odysseus stepped in, laughing as well. "Ah, I do, too. But we've shared a room for years, and we don't have any more room! We wouldn't want you to be crowded, so why don't you pick your own so you have room for all your toys!"
Telemachus' excitement returned. "Toys?"
"Aye, a whole chest-full for my boy!"
Telemachus had chosen the room closest to Odysseus and Penelope's, assuaged by the idea of being nearby and assured that he could still come sleep with them at night if he so wished.
Odysseus sent for some slaves to drag an old chest into the room. Some of the toys were some that Odysseus himself had played with when he was that age, and others were ones that Penelope recognized as the ones Odysseus had carved when she was pregnant in anticipation. Telemachus was delighted and immediately started diving through and finding the best ones. Odysseus sat on the floor and started explaining what some of the animals were and how other toys could be played with. They started their own version of a war council with an owl, horse, eagle, and goat and started to move everything around in a simulated battle. It warmed Penelope's heart.
Soon, the slaves that Penelope requested for Telemachus came to the door. She began instructing them on how to care for her son and they began to get the chamber ready to prepare Telemachus for the feast tonight.
Penelope and Odysseus left to get ready in their own chambers, and at last Penelope was here. In their room. Of all the sights in Ithaca, she missed this one the most. The bed that Odysseus had carved from an olive tree, it's roots deep in the earth. It would need a god to move it from where it stood, much like the love they had for each other.
Penelope knew she needed a bath, a ship at sea did not yield the best hygiene, but she couldn't help but walk over to the bed. The care that went into every cut and divot.
Odysseus followed right behind her. He moved to wrap his arms around her from behind, resting his head on her shoulder. "We're home, my love. Our marriage bed still stands."
Penelope didn't know what to say. After years of dreaming to be back in his arms, he was here.
She had always tried to have hope that Odysseus would make his way back to her. That he would tear Paris in two and make all the house of Priam suffer under his hand. That she would get to raise her son with him the way they always dreamed to. But it had been difficult. The worst thing she had ever had to endure. It was hard to remember a loving husband when another man controls your every movement and forces himself on you night after night.
Even now, it was hard for her to respond well to intimacy. Before she had been taken, Odysseus and her had been all over each other. She took great pleasure in it, and she would even say that her desire for him had not changed, even now.
But after Paris, it was hard to remember that she had a choice. That Odysseus would not force himself on her if that wasn't what she desired. One night on their stay in Sparta, they had tried to be intimate again. It ended before it had really began, as Penelope had started shaking and breathing too heavily as soon as he touched her more intimate areas. He had stopped immediately and merely hugged her and let her cry into his shoulder instead for the rest of the night, whispering kind words into her ear.
It frustrated Penelope greatly. She knew she wanted Odysseus. She wanted to feel as she did before all this happened. Like she was the most loved and important woman in the world. Like all that mattered for moment was Odysseus and their pleasure together. Like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, not an object to be stored away until needed like Paris treated her. She felt like her heart and her body were fighting against each other and she wanted it all to stop. She wanted her husband again.
Odysseus had been so patient with her through this whole ordeal. She once feared that having another man claim her might lessen his desire for her, but she had quickly found that that was not the case. She found him gazing at her form quite often. Some of that was concern for her health, Penelope knew, but other times, Penelope felt as she had before. Like she was everything he had ever wanted.
Odysseus holding her, as he did now, did not upset Penelope. She finds it likely because Odysseus was far more broad and strong than Paris could ever dream of being. It was comforting to be wrapped in his gentle arms. His arms felt nothing like the shackles of Paris' touch she had had in Troy.
Penelope leaned her head against his and just breathed. Here in his arms, she was truly home. They stood like that for a while before slaves came in to ready them for the evening.
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Penelope would typically only eat meals with the other noble women, and Odysseus with the men, but tonight was an exception. Odysseus did not want to be parted from her, and after all he had done to get her back, he insisted that she dine with him as the guest of honor. She especially did not want to be alone with the other noblewomen quite yet.
The palace chefs were unfamiliar with the prince's palate, so Penelope had them present a little bit of everything from him so they could see what his preferences were.
Once the foods had been presented and the wine poured, Penelope found Telemachus, sitting next to her, staring at her expectantly.
"I don't need to taste your food anymore, dearest. You can start eating."
Telemachus looked confused for a moment, but started eating the food, already cut up for him by the chef.
In Troy, Penelope had let her paranoia get the best of her. As soon as Telemachus was weaned from her breast, she worried about him being poisoned by an angry Trojan getting vengeance for a fallen son or brother. She got in the habit of tasting his food before he got to eat any of it. If it was poisoned, then at least she would die knowing that she had done everything she could for her son. The person behind it would inevitably be tracked down and punished for poisoning the concubine of a prince of Troy. Telemachus would be left on his own, but at least he would be alive. And she would be free from her prison.
The food was never poisoned. It never stopped her from worrying. She had even tasted his food in Sparta and on the ship, even though she knew the chances of such a fate were slim. But now that they were home...it would be for the best if Telemachus learned to stand on his own. He cannot have his mother doting on him forever.
"Mama?" He asked. "Mama, what's this?" He held up a piece of fish glazed in olive oil and honey.
"That's fish, darling. It comes from the sea."
"Really?"
"Really. Fisherman go out in boats like the one we were on earlier with big nets to catch them."
Telemachus seemed to think about this.
"It's good!" Penelope said. "See?" She found some fish on her own plate and took a bite. Telemachus caught on and started to eat as well.
Fish was harder to come by in Troy, with the Greeks blocking off much of their access to the ocean during the war. The upper class much liked beef more than any other, so that is what they feasted on. In an island chain like Cephalonia, fish was far more common.
Odysseus, sitting on Penelope's other side, heard this discussion and said, "Would you like to go out on a boat and go fishing sometime? You can see how it works up close."
Telemachus did want to go on a fishing trip. With all the things Odysseus is eager to do with Telemachus, the two of them have an awfully packed schedule. Odysseus had announced that court and council would not take place for a fortnight, so it's possible that Odysseus was trying to get the most out of this time as he could. He had already missed so many precious years of Telemachus' life, and he didn't want to miss a minute more.
It would be peculiar to not be around at least one of them during the day, but this would give Penelope time to get started on her next weaving projects. Time at her loom gave her a lot of time to think and ponder in quiet, and with how her head has been lately, it would be nice to have rest.
As the evening went on, and their guest became drunker and drunker, Odysseus took to elaborating on some of the schemes and strategies that won them the war, much to everyone's amazement. He had recounted some of the same stories in Sparta, but Penelope couldn't help but be amazed at her husband, who took on a mighty city like Troy, and won.
After a little while, Penelope could see Telemachus drifting off, so she made her goodbyes and took him to his chambers to rest, feeling a bit drowsy herself.
He was half asleep by the time she reached his bed.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." Penelope whispered as she tucked him in and kissed his head.
"...g'night Mama..." Telemachus mumbled, drifting off.
She smiled and stared at him for a few minutes, stroking his hair.
They had come so far, the two of them. She had spent so much of her time the last few years devoting every second to his safety. It hardly seems real that she could leave most of that burden to Odysseus now.
Would any of Ithaca ever know how close Paris was to ending his life? How all of her schemes were so close to being for naught? Would she tell them? Would Telemachus come to her years later and wonder why the beginning of his life was so strange? Why Penelope would spiral every time she smelled roses?
Penelope knew they would have to talk one day. She could only hope she would know what to say by then.
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The next few days, Penelope spent at her loom. Odysseus had moved some of Telemachus' toys in so they could play together while she worked, which pleased Penelope greatly. She was able to mend a lot of Odysseus' clothes that had become damaged over the war and update her measurements of him. However, it was clear to Penelope that Telemachus yearned to go outside. Odysseus had promised him a tour of the island, a hunting trip, and a fishing trip. Odysseus and Penelope had scarcely left each other's side since they were reunited. But now that they were home, she knew this arrangement couldn't last forever.
While Penelope loved walking in the gardens and swimming in the spring Odysseus built for her (which had delighted Telemachus when he found out), she wasn't sure she was ready to deal with townspeople and nobles' scorn for what happened to her. Everyone had been very cordial and sympathetic towards her since she had returned, but she wasn't sure how much of that was her husband's presence warning off the rude commentary.
She would be content to have them go off on an adventure while she stayed inside. She had an idea for a new tapestry she hoped to surprise Telemachus with for his new room soon, anyways. It was only right for a father and son to spend time together alone. Odysseus expressed concern for her, but she assured him that it would be just fine.
The next day, they left so Telemachus could get his full tour of the island. Laertes went with them, as they planned to end the tour at his estate he spent most of his time in the farmland of Ithaca.
Penelope set to work at the beginning stages of her tapestry. She wanted to make a grand tapestry of the wooden horse that Odysseus used to destroy Troy. It resembled the wooden horse that had long been Telemachus' favorite toy, so she thought it would be appropriate for his room. He could treasure the lengths his father went through to protect his family in the years to come.
She had scarce began when a knock came to her door. She was not expecting any visitors, and Odysseus wouldn't knock and wait.
Paranoia flooded her mind again that someone had come to assault her once more and this safety she had begun to feel was all a lie. How could she let Odysseus go? He kept her safe, always.
Another knock came. "Penelope?" A familiar woman's voice came.
Penelope didn't have time to panic, she was already being impolite.
She stilled her breathing and steeled her face. "Enter."
Anticlea made her way inside and sat next to Penelope in a nearby chair.
"Hello, my dear."
"Hello." Penelope replied and let a beat pass. "If you're looking for Telemachus, he went with Odysseus and Laertes to tour Ithaca. They should be back by nightfall."
"I'm not looking for Telemachus."
"Ah." So it wouldn't take long at all for the judgement and lecture to start. She wasn't safe even tucked away in her weaving room, the scorn would come to her.
She turned to go back to her weaving. She didn't care if it appeared rude; she simply did not want to look Anticlea in the eye as she told her once again that she wasn't fit to be Odysseus' wife and that she was better off being Troy's whore than to ever show her face here again. "What can I help you with then, Queen Mother?"
Anticlea shifted in her seat. She almost looked...nervous? "I wanted to talk with you, privately. We did not start off our relationship as we should have, so I came to apologize for my previous behavior."
Penelope stopped her weaving and looked at her. That was not what she was expecting.
"I see." Penelope started. "Odysseus set you up to this, didn't he? What did he threaten you with?"
Anticlea sighed. "He did tell me that if I said one unsavory thing to you about what happened, then I would be barred from seeing Telemachus until he had beard." Penelope gave a small laugh, but Anticlea continued. "But that is not why I am here."
"Forgive me for being skeptical."
"I thought a lot about this conversation while you were taken."
Penelope swallowed and turned back to her work. "I will tell Odysseus that you put your best effort in and we made up. You need not bother with your speech. You may leave."
"I do not expect you to forgive me. I was harsher than I should have been—"
"You told him to take a pallake!" Penelope snapped. "In front of me! In front of the whole family!"
"You were barren!"
"It was humiliating!" Penelope glared. "And clearly not true, no matter how long it took."
Anticlea's jaw clenched, and her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. "Regardless, that conversation is not why I'm here."
"I thought you were here to 'apologize'."
"For my initial attitude towards you. I should have been more cordial to you as you came into the family and respectful towards your place at Odysseus' side."
"Hmm," was Penelope's only reply.
"You weren't there the day he discovered you had been stolen. It was unlike...how I've ever seen him. I knew then that having him take another woman was a useless endeavor."
Penelope could imagine it well. She had seen the fury he showed cutting Paris apart limb from limb.
Anticlea continued. "And I wanted to say that...that I understand some of what you went through."
Penelope stilled. "Really? You know what it's like to be stolen your home, trapped from your husband and family, and forced into the bed of a man you do not want?"
Anticlea looked at her lap. "A week before I was to wed Laertes, I was tricked by a man named Sisyphus to let him into my room. He had his way with me and left before he could be caught. I didn't tell anyone in fear that my marriage would fall through before it happened. I fell pregnant soon after the wedding and feared that it was secretly his. When Odysseus was born, he took after me. As he aged, he resembled Laertes enough that I was assured nothing from that night had stuck, but in the back of my head, I always wondered. So, no. I don't know everything that you went through, but I know what it's like to be forced to share a bed. And despite our differences, I will not hold it against you. Everything that happened to you was not your fault."
Penelope stared at her, eyes wide. "Does Odysseus know?"
"I've never told a soul, though I hear rumors sometimes. Likely from the slaves of my old house, but I don't think he pays them much mind."
Penelope felt a lump in her throat. "I don't know what to say. I...I'm not ready to talk about it yet."
"It took me years to find the words, child. I just want you to know that if you need to talk to someone about it, I can be a listening ear. I won't tell a soul, and I won't tolerate other women speaking harshly of you, either."
Penelope grabbed the woman's hands. "Thank you."
They looked at each other for a moment in understanding. For the first time in a long while, Penelope felt like she had gained a friend.
----------------------------
Odysseus and Telemachus came back after nightfall. Telemachus was beaming as he explained all the buildings they saw and the people they met. He talked and talked until he could hardly stand on his feet and they took him to bed.
Once her and Odysseus were alone in their room, Penelope said, "It sounds like it went well."
Odysseus smiled. "It was amazing, getting to explain everything. I missed this land more than I can describe." Odysseus looked at her. "And how were you?"
Penelope did not have to lie with her smile. "I'm well." Odysseus still tried to look for deceit in her eyes. "Truly. Your mother visited me."
Odysseus looked alert. "And?"
"And, it went well."
"And?"
"We had a conversation. One that's between her and me."
Odysseus seemed pleased with this answer.
After they bathed for the night, they curled up in bed together.
"I still do not know," Penelope said against his chest. "I do not know when I will be whole again. But..." She looked him in the eyes "I think I am on my way."
He smiled softly at her and kissed her forehead. "And I will love you all the same."