Chapter Text
Work inspired by The Penelopiad by my muse Margaret Atwood – also, obviously, dam Homer himself, if he ever existed, and The Odyssey and The Iliad.
Seriously, though, go read Atwood. She’s a gem and genius. I borrowed from her novella, so don’t be surprised to see parallels. Simon plays Penelope, Raphael plays Odysseus.
Simon Lovelace – Second child of Elaine Lovelace, also known as the Faithful King Consort, for the endless attachment to the King
Raphael Santiago – King of Ithaca, also named the Saint King for his excessive piousness
Elaine Lovelace – Mother Queen, widowed and mother of two children, Simon and Rebecca
Camille Belcourt – Lady-in-waiting, faithful servant to Raphael
Clary Fray – Lady-in-waiting, charged with the task of turning away the consort’s suitors
Isabelle Lightwood – Commonly known as Calypso, a daughter of Atlas
Athena - Greek goddess of war and wisdom, patron of Raphael
Choir – The maids of the palace. The royal gossipers.
- Their Marriage
The marriage is arranged, as most marriages are. Most of them, if they involve people from nobility, that is.
His soon-to-be-husband is handpicked from a cluster of men and women while Simon scrutinizes them from behind a veil. He’s not permitted to attend the choosing procession. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t catch a glimpse of his intended first! Elaine, his mother, chooses carefully, as to maximize the profits from this union. It’s not very romantic. More like attending an auction, and Simon feels like a fat goose, with the way he’s being traded for money and lands.
Elaine even goes to the Oracle in Delphi for advice, like all good citizens who are making life-altering decisions did these days.
Simon is sought after for a simple reason: his daylighter status causes much talk and envy. Elaine knows it well. Simon comes with the gift of daylight to vampires – a treasure so rare the gods bestow only to the most devout. Since she had been a child, Elaine had always been convinced of her good faith, and she had received her wish: her child, though condemned to live as a shadow of life, could now walk in daylight.
After a hundred days of searching and courting – to which Simon is not even privy! Ridiculous! – a candidate is chosen. Yes, the Saint King will do, Elaine has decided.
Although he is short and ill-tempered, he owns more land than four kingdoms put together. When Simon had fallen prey to a vampire a few years before, and Elaine had despaired for his future. But it had, in fact, opened doors, such as the Saint King’s favour: King Raphael desires nothing more than a daylighter to share the throne.
Raphael, his first name is. Simon interrupts his weaving and tests the name on his tongue. “Raphael.” He says it over and over. What a joke! “My Raphael!” He sniggers.
Elaine’s oldest child, Rebecca, has already married and has put two sons and a girl on this earth. She prays to the deities often, and spills blood from sacrifices until she’s satisfied. Elaine enjoys a good position: as a widow (rid of the authority of a partner), she is free to do as she pleases. Her goal in life is to see her two children married off into wealthy families. She has succeeded with Rebecca, now there’s only Simon left.
On their wedding day, the surly Saint King stares straight ahead and clamps down painfully on Simon’s wrists as the holy man binds their hands together with a flimsy piece of white ribbon.
Simon peers at the scene from under his veil, blinks away the sting from the charcoal streaked around his eyes – he was ‘dolled up’ for the ceremony, as the maids said (“Look at our Lovelace dolled up, so lovely,” they taunted), but he is not beautiful, couldn’t be called more than plain, and would not be known as thus by the people. Instead, they know him for his kindness, the broad smile that is an opposite of his king’s.
But to be known for kindness isn’t such a great thing, to be honest. People think he is a weakling. No, his kindness doesn’t interest people, but ever since he’s been blessed by the gods to roam both daylight and nighttime, all shapes and sizes had hunger after him. Simon scoffs at this. They fawn over him.
There is a great deal of wine and roasted meat, with a mountain of grapes. Everyone gets more or less drunk except for his husband; Raphael doesn’t seem to drink much. Instead, he listens to others’ rambling with a disapproving frown on his brow.
After the ceremony, Simon says with a steady voice, “Raphael.” He repeats the name, again, attempting to get used to it. Perhaps he has had a bit too much wine. A drunk, fat goose.
Unknown to Simon, the King catches his birth name being whispered across the room and finds his new husband in a corner of the big room. They live in a palace near the sea, where Simon whispers the names of the naiads and swims amongst the fish when he gets bored of weaving. Now he speaks other names.
“Raphael,” Simon whispers again, continuing to test this new future on his tongue.
“Yes?”
He turns around. “Oh. Husband.”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Uh — My King.”
“Yes?”
Elaine cuts in with a crowd of attention-seekers trailing behind her – councilmen, members of the King’s clan, and old, forgotten, money-hungry cousins who have suddenly remembered they are family. She is looking to show off her baby. She calls him that, her baby. Simon sincerely hopes she’ll leave aside the nickname for now.
“Simon!”
His eyes flicker across all the attendees in haste. “Mother!”
“Elaine,” Raphael nods dutifully, though he had hoped for no interference during his first – first! – conversation with his husband.
While the attention-seekers all do their best to brownnose and glorify him, Simon believes none of their praises and niceties – before his days as a daylighter, he was accustomed to avoidance and annoyance from his peers and superiors. But it was genuine, at least. Sometimes he thinks back to those days he spent in the dark as a wistful memory. Curse his mother’s prayers!
Simon groans when he notices his husband had once more slunk off into the shadows. They had not exchanged more than nine words.
A midnight wedding is all the new rage these days, with the many vampires in the kingdom, but Simon doesn’t doubt his husband is impatient to receive a drop of that god-blessed blood of his. The Saint King will soon be touched by the sun as well, Simon concludes grimly.
After he finishes his familial and royal duties – greeting his aunts and uncles, cousins and nieces and nephews, receiving mountains of trinkets and gold – he fulfils his marital duties.
As he walks away towards his new bedroom, he is followed by a waterfall of vulgar jokes and jeers. Those drunken idiots.
- Choir – A Difference of Opinion
[After the midday meal in the palace, two maids find themselves having an argument in the kitchens.]
Upon our faith, the king and consort
hide behind their walls! We whisper rumours
of the newlyweds, wish the plague upon them,
damn the couple aloud,
Fool! We do not curse or damn
We smile slyly and weave our
stories of seduction – revered Aphrodite!
by the gods, she will be pleased!
Curse Aphrodite, that she-witch,
Hera would deem this an abomination
Jealous beast! You are jealous!
Jealous?
Yes, jealous!
Pah!
I remain convinced of my right,
and we shall see how their marriage survives,
whether it hangs or wins!
- His Misfortune – Those Damn Trojans!
Raphael leaves his husband behind a month after their wedding takes place. He leaves to fight a war that has been caused by Simon’s cousin, the daft Helen of Troy. When the news had been announced to him, he could not understand the idiocy of these people.
Paris, nabbing Menelaus’ wife, Helen? What a moron! He knew what trouble it would cause, yet it didn’t stop him.
And Helen, letting herself be dragged off to Troy? What a dimwit! She knew what kind of tyrant her husband, the King of Sparta, was.
Raphael enjoys a few minutes of sunlight on his bare skin just outside his war tent.
One of his generals interrupts his peace. A letter had come to him from home. Raphael grunts and wonders how long it would take to return home. He had hardly got the chance to enjoy his marriage before he had been called to the war. Because of those idiots, Paris and Helen. Thanks guys.
The letter is from Camille, his second-in-command, whom he had ordered to stay home to look after Simon – though he will never own up to that fact, for his own safety. Simon did not need to be ‘looked after’.
The letter contains only little bits of uninteresting information about life at the palace. Simon is only mentioned once – his weaving is growing excessive.
Raphael closes the letter and thinks of the Trojans. How can they be defeated, with their endlessly high walls? He kneels in front of his small Athena shrine and thinks deeply. If anyone can help him, it’ll be her.
- His Suitors
Simon keeps his lips in a straight thin line underneath his veil, hoping Maureen Brown wont see his expression and take offence. She is easily provoked, this suitor. And it isn’t the first time she’s knocked on Simon’s door.
“Please, Consort Lovelace, consider my offer before you turn it down—,” she starts.
Behind him, Camille and Clary sigh wearily.
Simon schools his features like he has been taught to do, pulls away the veil and leans in, hoping to not disappoint the suitor, or at least to keep the drama to a minimum.
“I cannot, though you flatter me.”
“Your husband is a fool – leaving you behind like this. I would never have done such a thing, had I been in his place,” she says.
Right, Simon thinks with a grimace behind his veil, what do I say to that? “Mh,” is all he can manage. “Hum.”
He takes the coward’s way out and turns to Clary, holding out his hands.
She swiftly steps in and tsk’s Simon before addressing Maureen as formally as possible. The Consort was not accepting her proposal. He remains faithful to the Saint King.
He nodds vehemently in agreement, “I remain faithful to the king.” It would become his go-to explanation, and he would utter these six words over fifty times before he could come up with a better tactic – but more on that later.
- Choir – Two maids lamenting for the separated couple
[Excited chatter in the background. The two maids clasp their hands together and share their thoughts.]
How sad!
How deliciously sad, sister!
Those lovers, to be pulled apart!
Pulled apart! How awfully terrible!
Just awful! To think of the pain —
The pain!
— they suffer, longing for one another
How lonely!
How lonely, in the palace, on the battlefield
Amongst the blood and sweat!
No end to the pain!
The pain!
Oh, just imagine, can’t you just imagine?
I just cannot imagine! That pain—
Oh, the pain!
- A Letter to my Love
Dear Husband,
The months and years have passed slowly without you here – that much I can certainly share with you, though I would never admit it to the band of suitors right outside. The situation here grows dreary. Do you know how many there are now? I’ve counted one hundred and eight shifty little wooers. The suitors won’t stop banging on our doors. And they are our doors, are they not? They won’t stop, they are relentless! They dine like swine downstairs in the courtyard. Each night the servants have to clean up after them! The maids have started to resent me for it, but manage to frolic with the suitors, nonetheless. They’ve even set up camp right outside the palace, if you can believe it. They are still not convinced of my faith to you, and continue to pester me endlessly with empty words and lacklustre flattery.
Where are you? I am rather bored in our bed. I’m still astounded, by the way, that you crafted it yourself, this marital bed. I remain impressed.
As you continue to rage war with no end in sight, so do I continue to fend off unwanted admirers – though I suspect they don’t admire me so much as they wish to take your place and enjoy your riches. If this goes on for much longer, I will have to come up with a way to hold them off more permanently. I do not rely on your wits for this, husband, I will come up with something myself. Do not fear.
I remember when we last spoke words – spoke is a generous term, as your eloquence, though eloquent, is concise and sparse. I counted the words you spoke to me that first night when we were married: thirty-seven uttered words. I cannot help but think you have more to say now.
I remain here,
and yours,
faithfully,
Simon
- His Trick – Those Dumb Trojans!
Athena hears his plea in the end, and Raphael is struck by a brilliant plan.
It had actually been Simon’s letter that set him on the right track: flattery.
Those Trojans are nothing if not proud, and what better way to win this never-ceasing war than to appeal to their pride?
So, Raphael decide, they will fawn, they will be generous, they will appeal and flatter until they could trap those stupid Trojans – and then attack!
The siege is lifted and the Greeks sail away.
Or so the Trojans think.
A gift is left to them by the Greek army: a tall, wooden horse. The craftsmanship is raw yet refined, and they roll in the beast with a pleased smile on their faces. How those Greeks have come to their senses! How smart they are, to abandon hope, and accept their loss. Goodbye, Greeks! Off with you!
While the Trojans stand with their hands on their waist, waving goodbye to the boat out on the sea, the Greeks jump out of the wooden horse and pummel each Trojan they can find to death.
And so, by the cleverness of their King, they win.
Finally, Raphael can go home!