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Chapter Text

“…And her eyes are painted with the most beautiful amber—”

”Brother.”

Ctimene’s annoyance snapped Odysseus out of his daydreams, ”Hm?” 

She looked up to glare at him with a huff,

”It’s been an hour.”

Odysseus pushed off the desk he’d been resting on, “Ctimene, you don’t understand…” 

The love struck fool turned to his little sister with that same goofy ass smile and blush he’d had plastered on his face since he first caught a passing glimpse at the princess.

“This girl…She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She’s unreal, Ctimene…I’ll never accept anyone less than Penelope of Sparta.”

Odysseus was completely, utterly smitten for this girl. There was no going back…And he was going to make it everyone from Ithaca to Olympus’s problem. 

”May the gods never allow me to become so useless over a man,” his sister remarked, rolling her eyes in annoyance before returning to her weaving. 

Odysseus brushed off her dismissal, ”You’ll understand when you’re older…” He said with a forlorn look in his eyes as he gazed off the palace balcony once more.

Ctimene scoffs, ”You’re two years older than me.“

Odysseus had been reigning as Ithaca’s king for about 4 years or so now in the wake of his father’s death. It was a terribly heavy responsibility for a 13 year old boy, let alone one to face amidst tragedy and mourning. 

Now one of his shiny new responsibilities at the ripe age of 17 was to choose a queen for Ithaca, and not one girl had struck his fancy. 

…Until Penelope of Sparta. 

Everyone had been raving about her sister Helen. All the men claimed that she was the most beautiful girl any of them had ever laid eyes on. 

Odysseus was not among those men. 

After seeing Penelope’s beauty in person—hearing the tales of her mind at work—his sights were set. 

He went to Athena immediately.

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“I need her to be mine.”

The goddess looked up from her blade and rolled her eyes (why did everyone keep doing that?).

“And what do you know about this girl, little warrior?”

Athena asked, continuing to sharpen her weapon while musing about his seemingly trivial request.

Odysseus sighed heavily, doing so the way only a man completely gone would. 

”Penelope is her name…”

He was practically kicking his feet as he continued to describe her to his mentor. 

”…And she’s witty and has the kind of face that would make kingdoms crumble and—“

Odysseus stared off into the distance with a look of longing and determination. At this point he’d been talking himself in circles.

“It’s her, Athena…” He got in front of Athena’s face so she had no choice but to see how serious he was about this.

”Gods, I know it’s her…”

Athena’s lips curved into a small smile. The shake of her head was accompanied with a lighthearted scoff. 

Mortals were so intriguing to her, especially when ones as smart as Odysseus were rendered so stupid ever a girl. In the end, she conceded, sighing softly.

”Well. I’d love to aid you but I can only do so much. I fear this may be more so Aphrodite’s department…”

Chapter Text

And so there he was, at the doorstep of Aphrodite’s temple. Odysseus brought her as many offerings as he could get his grubby little hands on. He was determined to ensure something would get him in her good graces. 

He spared no expense either. 

He brought her beautifully crafted jewelry and rare flowers, accompanied by sweet, imported fruits. He gathered pretty much anything pink and shiny he could find. 

Odysseus was practically on his knees at this point.

Well, actually, he literally was right now.

“Aphrodite, can you guide me?”

He made his plea to the goddess of love with fidgeting hands—a stark contrast from the hotheaded and self-assured boy he usually was. 

“How ever you can help me—some kind of enchantment to have her fall for me as I have with her, or maybe you could—“

Aphrodite’s rolling eyes made the boy shut up. (Seriously—Why did everyone keep doing that??)

”You want me to make this girl fall in love with you?”

Odysseus blinked. He opened and closed his mouth like an idiot. He hadn’t really thought that far in his desperation.

”Well…no. Not exactly.”

Aphrodite stepped down from her throne to peer down at him with a lighthearted smirk,

”Then what is it exactly?”

Odysseus felt his face flush.

He hadn't expected to be put on the spot like that. And coming from such an important goddess as herself…he felt a small hit to his ego.

”I suppose that may be an unfair request...”

He considered for a moment, collecting his bearings as the gears whirled in his head.

He hopped up from his knees and to his feet, his demeanor changing in the blink of an eye. The embarrassment was swiftly replaced with fiery passion in his eyes.

”You’re right. I need to show her my love on my own accord,” he declared with a puffed chest. 

“…But,” Odyssseus said, falling more timid again, “Whatever you can give me…Please…tell me what she wants to hear. Give me the right words to say what I mean…“

Aphrodite chuckled and put a hand on her hip. She looked down at him, utterly amused.

”All this over a first love? You need not be so serious. You’re so young—“

Odysseus cut her off curtly (which in retrospect should’ve gotten him in a lot more trouble than it did),

“I mean it. Lady Aphrodite, I’m so serious. I need to show her I mean it. Please. Let me show her how I feel.”

The confident yet pleading words pushed the goddess into the arms of sympathy. She’d seen her fair share of young, starry-eyed lovers come crying to her doorstep, begging for her to make their love eternal, only for the spark to die within a week’s time. She hardly thought Odysseus was different from the rest of the likes. 

However. She would admit this boy was persistent. 

She’d give him that much along with a simple answer… 

“I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Text

After many, many annoying follow up visits—accompanied by piles more offerings—Odysseus had finally worn Aphrodite down enough to receive her blessing.
He felt more ready than ever to see Penelope.

Lucky for him, it wasn’t a long wait before he found himself preparing to make the trip to Sparta.

Helen’s father was searching for a man to win her hand in marriage, but that’s not what Odysseus was here to do. Under the guise of vying for her attention, he saw his chance to see Penelope again.

Yet, after arriving for some days, the poor boy still hadn’t actually seen her.
In the midst of his woes, Odysseus sought solace in an olive grove just past the palace to wallow.

The breeze carried through the treetops with golden-hour light showing through the leaves—painting them with a soft glow.
Odysseus leaned against a tree and sighed in wistful frustration. He refused to return to Ithaca without—at the very least—seeing her in passing.
All he had seen was her in passing, and it drove him crazy how much he craved her attention. Closing his eyes to conjure up the few glimpses he’d gotten of her so far, he’d replayed them over and over.

In the visions he could see behind his eyes; he saw how beautiful she was when she smiled.
He could see the way her eyes softened as she did so.

He recalled the way her hair curled in the gentle wind. He tried to imagine how it would look when she let it down.

He remembered how she held herself: tall and like a queen would—nay, better—with not just grace, but confidence that was clearly not misplaced.

Odysseus swooned at the sparkle of quiet intellect he'd seen in her eyes. He knew at that moment he was her fool.
He was so awestruck by her beauty that he ruined his chance to speak to her in wake of his gawking.

So there Odysseus stood against the tree, beating himself up over how utterly stupid he had been.
He stared off into the distance to look toward the palace, heart sinking with longing.

After deciding he’d sulked long enough, Odysseus lifted himself to his feet and brushed off his chiton.
As he walked along the path that weaved through olive trees however, he realized he wasn’t alone.

A figure in the distance caught his eye.

His heart beat wavered in his chest…
He didn’t have to see her face to know it was her.

There she was.
Princess of Sparta—beautiful, intelligent, brilliant—resting poised against one of the trees.