Chapter Text
It’s been a few weeks since Odysseus returned home. Every night he lays in bed with Penelope. Sometimes they have sex, sometimes they just hold each other. But before they both sleep he tells her a bit more of his story. She true to her words, does not flinch from the bloodshed, a true daughter of Sparta.
And the night before was the worst part of the tale – the ending of what should have been a homecoming for at least one ship of men, an impossible choice given by the King of the Gods and well… Odysseus had hardened his heart; the men had mutinied and then ignored his pleas to not kill the cattle of the Sun. So he’d made the only choice he could; and his ship had sunk beneath the fury of Zeus’ lightning.
Tonight he speaks of waking up on an island. Of how it was warm, the sand was soft, the tide gently lapping at his feet. About standing up and seeing the beautiful lands and then, a beautiful goddess. Though he had not recognised her as such at first, he had learned something of caution, and spoke of Calypso with respect. Of how she’d taken him in, and fed him, given him new clothes…
Of how she would push for him to stay, to be hers and how he’d remained loyal to the woman now in bed with him. “Oh, Odysseus.” Penelope smiled, “I am ever grateful for your loyalty.”
“How could I do otherwise, you are my wife, and I love you.”
“I know. I love you too, my darling. Now, tell me more about the time you spent with Calypso.”
“After some of my strength returned, I would go down to the beach often. I would mourn for my men, for my mother - whom I saw in the Underworld, and I would mourn the years I was missing with you and Telemachus.” Odysseus’ eyes took on a wet sheen “It was so much. And Calypso would come down to the beach and bring me fruit and water. She’d listen to my stories sometimes when she felt up to it. She actually seemed to enjoy hearing about you sometimes.”
Penelope smiles softly – she’s seen the way Odysseus lights up with passion when he talks about something dear to him; it’s one of the things that made him so attractive. He had no idea, oblivious man, but she’s pretty sure that is the reason Calypso would listen about a woman she imagines the goddess would have seen as competition.
“I spent seven years there. It didn’t feel like it at the time; the weather was rarely stormy, always lovely. I lost track of the days. But towards the end of my time, I had a…” He pauses trying to find the words and Penelope takes his hand, holds it over her heart.
“You came home to me. I would hear all of what it cost to have you return.”
He nods but doesn’t look her in the eyes. “There was a cliff, near Calypso’s palace. A storm had come in, and I’d wandered out into it. The screams of my dying men were loud. Polites – I’d dreamed of him, of the young man I loved like a younger brother. And Eurycholus, how was I going to be able to face your sister and say I lost the man she loved; that my brother had betrayed me, driven by his own hunger to his doom… It was all too much and I wanted the voices to stop. Calypso was there, a few feet behind me, knew not to get too close – I think she didn’t want to startle me.”
“You’re home now.” Penelope says as he pauses, wiping his eyes with his free hand “You endured so much; and I’m sorry I wasn’t there in more than spirit.”
“You had your own trials.”
“And I will tell you about them when you finish your tale. It doesn’t diminish the horrors you’ve been through.”
He nods and leans in, kissing Penelope chastely, a gratitude there are no words for in the motion. “I called out for Athena – I know we’d fought, that She probably wouldn’t hear me… or care.”
“She cared.”
“Wait, how do you know that?”
“One of her lesser known traits is that She’s the Goddess of weaving – and I spent every day weaving your shroud, every night unpicking my work just enough to delay a few more months, weeks… She came to visit one night. Told me that She would like to befriend Telemachus, if I was okay with the idea, complimented my mind and my weaving both.”
Odysseus goes to speak but Penelope shushes him gently. “She told me the two of you fought. About how She couldn’t defy her Uncle’s wrath, not while you were traveling through His domain. But that She would watch over Telemachus and I, at least until you were home again. Those aren’t the words or the actions of a goddess who doesn’t care.”
He nods and sets that thought aside to ponder later. “Then maybe.. Hermes said that it wasn’t Him who fought for me… I’m jumping ahead a bit though… After I called out to Athena, I collapsed – Calypso caught me, carried me back inside and made sure I was taken care of when a fever took hold of me due to being out for so long in the rain. I loved her for that. I loved her for taking care of me, but not in the way she wanted me to love her; she wanted me to be her One but I already had found mine here.”
“I’m glad she took care of you. It must have been hard for her, loving you and knowing there wasn’t any chance. She could have been bitter or kicked you out, or killed you – she’s a goddess after all. But she loved you. And that’s okay Ody. It’s okay that you loved her, I’m not upset about it, I promise.” Penelope kisses her husband. “What happened then?”
“Then a while later Hermes came and told Calypso the Olympians had told her to set me free. I built a raft with a little divine assistance and then left her. It… hurt, leaving, but I knew I didn’t want to stay. I would burn the world to return home to you. The trip was incredibly dangerous but that’s a tale for tomorrow I think, it’s already grown late.”
“I would like to meet her, this Calypso,” Penelope muses as she pulls Odysseus into her arms, letting him rest his head against her chest – they’d discovered early on that her heartbeat in his ears could help him rest a bit more soundly. “To meet her, and to thank her. Maybe we should go back.”
“It’d be dangerous.”
A smirk crosses Penelope’s lips, “Don’t you know that danger is my friend?”