Chapter Text
Telemachus opened his eyes, then immediately narrowed them to slits at the harsh glare of the morning sun. He rolled over with every intention of going back to sleep, but soon the pressure in his forehead crept to the back of his sinuses, causing a playful tickle in his nose. He breathed through his mouth, willing the tickle away, then immediately pitched forward with three rapid fire sneezes.
Telemachus swallowed thickly. He’d been feeling off for days, exhaustion fraying at his temper and a headache blossoming behind his eyes. His mother, ever watchful, was usually the first to notice these things, but it was all different now. Her husband had come home. Odysseus… King of Ithaca. His brave, clever, wonderful father, who had fought for twenty years to return to his family.
He should have returned to a pristine palace and celebrations fit for a decorated war hero. Instead, he’d found his palace sacked and Telemachus cowering in a corner while 108 old men held him down. He’d failed to keep his fathers palace safe. He’d failed to keep his mother safe. And Odysseus' first impression of his son had been a crying, trembling boy. Some warrior of the mind.
Telemachus brushed his hair away from his sweaty forehead and swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the tremble in them. Weak. He’d grown up on stories of his fathers bravery and cunning. For years he’d been his mothers sole confidant, had tried his best to prove that he could be just as brave and strong as her husband. But he was a poor substitute. And now that Odysseus had returned, Penelope didn’t need him anymore.
Telemachus stumbled to his wardrobe and hastily donned a chinton, muscles aching as he pulled the fabric over his head. Gods… why was the room so hot? He splashed cold water on his face and combed his hair into something vaguely presentable. Today was a special day. The palace would be hosting royalty from various kingdoms, both to celebrate the kings return, and to repair some of the alliances that had been damaged when Odysseus killed the suitors.
Telemachus couldn’t help feeling responsible for that last detail. If he’d been able to defend himself, his father would never have had to rescue him, and some of those men might still be alive. He couldn’t afford to let Odysseus see him that weak again. He rolled back his shoulders, ignoring the aches in his body and the burning in his throat that seemed to worsen with every swallow, and strode towards the main hall of the palace for breakfast.
***
Telemachus spooned up another gelatinous glob of porridge and did his best to ignore the concerned glances of his parents. Of course they would choose today to start noticing him again. He watched the porridge drip from his spoon before putting it down. The few mouthfuls he’d managed to swallow sat uneasily in his stomach and a foul residue coated his tongue.
‘Son… is the breakfast not to your liking? I’m sure the cooks could prepare something-’
‘No! It’s fine!’
Telemachus interrupted, blushing from the fever and the sudden crack in his voice. His father probably thought him ungrateful. Odysseus made no secret of how he’d flirted with starvation, risking his life to steal the cyclop’s sheep to feed his men… And here was Telemachus, his food plentiful, and he couldn’t eat.
‘I’m not very hungry.’
‘You didn’t eat much last night either.’
‘I said it’s fine!’
Telemachus’s voice cracked again on the word ‘fine’ and he coughed roughly into his elbow. The coughing wouldn’t stop. His chest heaved with the effort and tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Then someone pressed a cup of water into his hands.
Telemachus gulped it down eagerly, the first mouthful dribbling down his chin. At last the burning in his throat eased, and his breathing returned to normal. Telemachus wiped the water from his chin and looked up hesitantly. Both his parents had their eyes fixed on him, concern etched in their brows.
‘Tele… are you not feeling well?’
‘I’m fine Mom… just some dust in my throat’
Telemachus said, fixing his gaze on the table cloth. He stood up from his chair, wincing at the harsh scrape of wood against the marble floor.
‘I have some correspondence to catch up with. I’ll see you both tonight.’
‘Of course’
***
Penelope and Odysseus exchanged worried glances as Telemachus exited the room, both noting his slightly unsteady gait and the sound of muffled coughing. Odysseus stood up from the table abruptly, but was stopped by Penelope’s hand on his arm.
‘Give him a moment Ody… he’ll come to us when he’s ready.’
Odysseus turned to his wife, expression softening.
‘There’s clearly something wrong. If he’d just talk to-’
‘I know my love. I’m worried about him too. But Tele is still getting to know you. He’s been
without a father for so long. He needs time to open up before-’
Her voice faltered at the soft, wounded deer look her husband gave her, and she stumbled over her next few words
‘I only meant that it takes time to build trust. For twenty years, all he’s known of men are stories of your bravery and the suitors. Tele did his best to shield me from them… But he built walls to protect himself… to protect us… Those walls will come down… in time.’
Odysseus cupped Penelope’s cheek, and she leaned into the touch.
‘Yes… time. For twenty years I’ve fought to get back to you both. Every day we spent apart was an agony… and now, we finally have time’
He pulled Penelope close to him, and she rested her head in the hollow of his throat, breathing in the scent of her husband. Each day, she woke up and thanked the Gods for returning him to her. Her family… whole again. Penelope made to release herself from his hold, but Odysseus only tightened his grip around her, moaning plaintively in protest.
‘Ody!’
Penelope giggled, nuzzling into her husbands neck despite herself
‘I do believe we have a royal function to prepare for.’
Odysseus made no move to disentangle himself from his wife, pouting shamelessly.
‘NNggh… just a little longer’
He mumbled into Penelope’s neck, his hands moving lower to caress her waist.
‘Husband of mine… You are incorrigible!’
Penelope declared, grasping both of Odysseus’s wrists and stepping back from him in one fluid motion.
‘Come… you have a speech to practice. I’ll check on Tele in a couple of hours. Hopefully he just needs a little time to rest.’
Odysseus let go of his wife and planted a quick kiss on her forehead.
‘Very well.’ He sighed in mock exasperation.