Chapter Text
1.
Almost twenty years had passed, twenty long years in which Penelope slept praying that the gods would give her husband back and woke up with his absence as her first companion. She couldn't quite say which was worse: the longing, the loneliness or the doubt.
On second thought, she could. The worst part of Odysseus’s disappearance was, without a doubt, the presence of the suitors. If they weren’t there, the pain would still haunt her every day, but at least she could suffer in peace. Her heart would still bleed, but she would be safe.
She hated all those men who invaded her halls and made her feel unprotected in the palace her husband had built to be her sanctuary. They were all so different from the kind and gentle husband she loves and from the sweet son she had raised. She hated the brutal and violent ones like Eurymachus, and the false and sycophantic ones like Amphinomus. She even despised those who seemed to be good men, and who were only there on orders from their ambitious families, because, in the end, they all represented the same thing: her love had not returned to her.
She held them all in equal disdain, until Antinous outshone them all.
When he had arrived, the man hadn’t caught her attention, he was just one among a hundred. But recently he had become her most persistent suitor, showering her with compliments and lingering longer than he should near the royal family.
And, as if that wasn't enough, now he was also sending gifts.
That morning, returning to her room after a walk with her ladies-in-waiting, Penelope had found an extravagant bouquet of flowers, which she now stared at with a mixture of displeasure and perplexity.
“Well, that’s certainly a… different choice of flowers.” Clymene, her sister-in-law and confidante, looked just as confused as the queen, though her restrained smile made it clear she found the situation amusing.
And, in a way, her friend was right. Over all those years, Penelope had received enough flowers to fill an entire garden. Tulips, carnations, peonies... All of them had one thing in common: they were as red as blood. They carried with them a single intention: to spark desire. To reignite in her a love for men she didn't want.
But the bouquet Antinous had left was nothing like the ones his rivals had sent before him.
White daisies and pink carnations. The kind of flowers a boy would pick for his mother at a harvest festival. The gesture offended her even more than the flowers meant to seduce, the queen didn’t need a reminder that she was old enough to be Antinous’s mother. And if that was his attempt to win her over, he had sent the most misguided message imaginable.
What perplexed her the most, however, was how a man like him could have made such a ridiculous mistake. Penelope was not blind. She saw how Antinous drew admirers even among the suitors. She often hears the servants whispering about his body, his eyes, and his smile. Even her most loyal ladies-in-waiting sigh when he passes. How could a man with such magnetic charm send the woman he wished to woo the flowers meant for a mother?
“Have them thrown this out, my dear.” The queen asked her sister-in-law. She decided not to waste another second of her time thinking about Antinous and his clumsy gift.
What Penelope didn’t know, however, was that her bouquet hadn’t been the only one delivered that morning.
While her delicate flowers were being taken away, another bouquet, far bolder, had been delivered just a few steps down the corridor.
Returning from his training, Telemachus found at the door of his chambers a bouquet of roses as red as flames. Smiling, the young prince picked up the flowers and allowed himself a moment to breathe in their intense fragrance, before bringing into his room that provocative symbol.
***
2.
That kind of display had already bored her back when she was just a young girl eager to find love, let alone now, as a devoted wife and the mother of a grown man. Watching the suitors show off in the training yard was, according to her advisors, a necessary evil. It was better to let them believe she was searching among them for a new husband - a new king - than to encourage them to seize the throne through darker paths
Still, even knowing her presence was necessary, watching them fight never ceased to annoy her.
And she knew exactly what drove those men to fight. Her beloved Odysseus had done the same, all those years ago. She had fallen in love with the words he spoke, not the way he wielded a sword, but that had always been the custom: men had to prove their strength and skill to their future spouse and their families, had to show they were capable of protecting the one who would be entrusted to them.
Decades later, she found herself once again in the same position, with men dueling in her name, except this time she didn’t want any of them. No matter how skilled they were with swords or spears, she trusted none of them to keep her safe.
Antinous, however, seemed determined to change her mind.
With swords, spears, bows, axes or even his own fists, he defeated his opponents with singular skill, moving across the training yard as if it were a ballroom, every movement executed with graceful precision.
None of the others were better than him. They might be stronger, but he was smarter, beating them with an ease that should have been embarrassing for the others.
It would have been impressive, if it weren’t so over the top.
He fought more men at once than he should just to show that he could. He spun his weapons in exaggerated strikes, just to show off, all the while tossing smug smiles toward the royal platform.
Penelope had already decided to leave, she had fulfilled her role for longer than she could bear, when a light touch on her shoulder caught her attention.
And when she turned… there he was. Her pride and joy.
“Enjoying the show, mother?” Telemachus asked, a knowing smirk on his lips.
She let out a quiet laugh, bringing a hand to her face to hide her smile. Telemachus knew her well, he knew how much she hates that whole performance, but that wouldn’t stop him from making a sarcastic comment just to make her smile. “I’d have preferred it if you were the one down there. At least I know you’re worthy of fighting for me.”
He raised an eyebrow, amusement shining in his eyes. “So you want me to impress you? To show you and those dogs who really fight for the queen?”
“Exactly,” She replied, feigning seriousness. “A very dramatic display. A gallant prince, sword in hand, showing everyone that his mother needs no other protector.”
“But do it without breaking yourself, darling,” She sighed, running her hand down her son's tunic, smoothing where the fabric was wrinkled, maternal concern speaking louder than any joke. “And without getting those nice clothes dirty.”
He laughed and leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
“I hope I’m showing how much I love you without needing a sword, mother,” His expression mirrored the affection Penelope felt so deeply for her son. “And I hope I don’t need to be part of this circus for you to know I’ll always keep you safe.”
“You don’t need to prove anything to me, my dear. I know what’s in your heart.” Telemachus was her light in the darkness, and words like those made this entire nightmare more bearable.
But then the moment was interrupted, bringing them back to the reality they were in. A growing murmur from the audience, added to the sudden shouts coming from the courtyard, drew the attention of the mother and son to what was happening in the training yard.
There, at the very center of the spectacle, stood Antinous. This time, he faced four suitors at once, more than any had dared before. He moved through them with arrogant confidence, dodging blows with theatrical spins and striking with sharp precision.
With a swift kick to the chest, the first opponent went down. The second fell after a sweeping blow that knocked his spear away and caused him to stumble. The third tried to take him by surprise, but ended up face-first on the ground like the others. In the end, only one remained.
The last man seemed to be more cautious than the rest, or less foolish, letting the others grew Antinous tired before making his move. They circled each other, sizing one another up, until the remaining combatant attacked.
He launched a series of blows that might have landed, had Antinous not been so fast. He seemed to get more frustrated with each unsuccessful blow, until, in a careless move, his blade tore through the top of Antinous' tunic.
The fabric split, revealing part of his shoulder and chest, but the man didn’t even seem to notice, taking advantage of the other man's approach to slam him to the ground.
Applause erupted from the crowd, growing even louder when Antinous ripped off what was left of his tunic and threw it to the ground, leaving his torso completely bare. Sweat from the exertion glistened on his dark skin, catching the sunlight and emphasizing every contour of his muscles. With a confident smile, he bowed deeply to the spectators, his gaze never leaving the royal platform.
It wasn’t fitting of her position to roll her eyes, but faced with such a ridiculous display, she couldn’t help herself. However, it seemed that she was the only one thinking that. The audience was filled with giggles and squeals, and she even heard a sigh beside her, which she assumed came from one of the servants.
“I’ll take my leave. I think I’ve seen enough for today.” Penelope stood up and stroked Telemachus' dark hair, expecting a farewell kiss. But the boy merely nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes fixed on the training yard.
Penelope sighed. Her son was better than all of those men in every way, but he was still just a man, and the fights that bored her seemed to fascinate him. So she left him there, surrounded by the clash of weapons and the cheers of the crowd, and went to occupy herself with more pleasant activities.
Just after the queen’s departure, still breathing hard, chest bare, Antinous approached the royal platform, his steps with that lazy, dangerous confidence he wore like a second skin.
“Would you do me the honor of giving me your favor before my next fight, my prince?” Antinous asked, his voice low and drawn out, polite words layered with unmistakable provocation.
Telemachus blushed, not from embarrassment, but from surprise at the attention. He hesitated for a moment - he knew very well what kind of message handing over a favor to the man might send - but in the end, he gave a brief nod. Trying to hide his smile, he pulled from within his tunic a handkerchief he always kept close to his heart, and let his fingers linger against Antinous’s as he handed it over.
The suitor accepted the gift with a triumphant gleam in his eyes, as though that small token meant more than all his victories that day. With deliberate slowness, Antinous brought the handkerchief to his face, inhaled the prince’s lingering perfume, and, without breaking eye contact, pressed a soft kiss to the cloth before tying it around his wrist.
For the rest of the afternoon, with Telemachus’s mark bound to his arm, Antinous remained undefeated. And, from the royal platform, Telemachus never once looked away, amazed by the display of strength and skill.
***
3.
Those dinners, though crowded with suitors, surprisingly filled Penelope with joy. To her left, the young bride-to-be seemed to glow, radiant with happiness and excitement for the future that awaited her.
To the queen’s right sat her son. Telemachus observed the celebration with a discreet smile, pleased with yet another successful union. That, like so many before, had been another of the prince's brilliant ideas: instead of resisting all the suitors, why not draw the best of them closer? He had realized that not all of them were cruel, greedy or ill-intentioned, some could become allies.
So Penelope searched among them for the best - the kind, intelligent and strong - not for herself, but for her ladies-in-waiting. At first, Penelope had hesitated; suggesting marriage to a lady for a man who had come in pursuit of a queen could be taken as an insult, but she was a good judge of character, and, so far, her choices had not failed.
Every suitor to whom she had offered a lady’s hand had accepted with reverence, even gratitude. And why not? They wouldn’t marry the queen, but they would gain noble, beautiful wives. And far younger than the woman they had originally desired.
The couple of the evening seemed particularly eager to start their new life together. Penelope found herself smiling. Young love appeased, if only momentarily, the ache of her own love's absence. Besides, the marriages brought those men into her and her son's cause, and most importantly, reduced the number of men trying to win her for themselves.
But of course, not all the suitors were like the hand-picked grooms she had chosen for her girls, and the most inconvenient of them seemed determined to spoil her night.
Because as soon as the lovestruck groom sat down, having finished an emotional toast in honor of his future wife, Antinous rose, as if he had the right to speak at that moment.
“Allow me to say a few words,” Antinous began, raising his cup in a gesture far too self-satisfied to be mere courtesy. “We are gathered here today to celebrate love, not the love we came seeking, of course, but it’s a start.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes. Of course Antinous would take the opportunity to throw barbs at her, reminding everyone that she had yet to do what they all expected of her: choose a new husband from among them.
“Our brother here is a strong, determined man... and brave enough to accept a bride I believe wasn’t the one he expected to end up with.” Some discreet laughter echoed through the hall, none of it from the royal family or the couple. “And the bride, so beautiful, so sweet and graceful. Almost as much as the queen.”
His smile widened, making Penelope uneasy. “For no woman could compare to our queen, who is as beautiful as she is wise, and who, in all her generosity, has decided to grace us, mere subjects who came to this kingdom in search of love, with marriages to some of the world's greatest beauties.”
More laughter rose among the suitors. They all knew that they had indeed come to Ithaca in search of marriage, but definitely not in search of love. With every word from the man, Penelope grew more uncomfortable. Each polite phrase seemed to carry a hidden insult.
“But of course, no beauty compares to the prince,” Antinous raised his cup again, this time pointing it directly at Telemachus. “For he is as sweet as the nectar of the gods, as delicate as a muse’s song, so beautiful that would make marble statues blush. A true jewel.”
Whispers spread among the guests, but Antinous didn’t seem to mind the growing tension in the hall. The air around him felt charged, almost electric, and, beside Penelope, Telemachus’s body seemed to freeze.
“To the groom and bride!” Antinous proclaimed, the mocking smile in full display. “To the wisdom of the queen! And may we all also be lucky enough to receive a jewel in marriage.”
Antinous sat down calmly, as if his words were not reprehensible and even though the applause that followed were clearly hesitant.
At the royal table, Penelope had to grip the arm of her throne to stop herself from rising and slapping him. The man had dared to call her son ‘sweet,’ ‘delicate,’ and ‘beautiful.’ Words spoken in false honor, calling the boy weak in front of the entire court. The compliments, that if spoken to a maiden would be considered flattering, when directed at the heir to the throne could only have one intention: to discredit the prince’s image.
And what was worse was that the poisoned compliments to Telemachus were accompanied with flattery toward her own wisdom and beauty, as if daring to praise her while humiliating her son.
While Penelope burned with fury, Telemachus hid a smile behind his cup. He had understood. And how could he not? Antinous had been so direct, so clear in his intentions.
He had already noticed the glances that followed him wherever he went, the gifts laced with ulterior meanings, and yet, the prince had held back, too cautious and hesitant to return the advances.
But he could no longer remain indifferent, not after that: a public declaration, the intention to court him clearly exposed before the entire court.
And the truth was, Telemachus wanted to see just how far it would go. He liked the eyes that seemed to consume him and the provocative gestures. He even liked the insolence, the defiance present in every moment, even in that speech.
Antinous had already piqued his interest by teasing him from afar. Telemachus had decided that, that very night, he would find out what the man could awaken in him once he was invited to come closer.
***
4.
Penelope loved mornings like this, moments when she and her son could be alone, away from the formality of the salons and the watchful eyes of the court, free from the need for masks. Just the two of them, sharing breakfast between laughter and conversations that drifted from court gossip to political plans.
And with that in mind, there was a specific idea she had been considering for a while, something she now wished to share with her son.
“I’ve been thinking,” The queen began, just as a servant set down a tray of pastries in front of them. The prince attacked the sweets eagerly, he seemed especially relaxed that morning, his hair still damp from his bath and a faint smile lingering on his lips throughout the meal. “What would you think of a union with Antinous?”
Telemachus choked. He coughed violently, a piece of cake caught in his throat. The prince needed a long sip of water to pull himself together and, blushing, he finally managed to stutter. “W-what?”
Penelope, not realizing the strangeness of the reaction, went on, as if reflecting aloud. “His speech at the engagement dinner made me think. I know he’s not like the others we’ve chosen for the girls, but I don’t think he’d be a bad option for a match.”
Weeks had passed since that ridiculous speech at the engagement feast, and the queen had spent all that time trying to come up with a plan to get rid of the suitor. Something seemed to have changed in the man that night, he had become even more persistent in his approaches, and she couldn't stand it any longer. “He doesn’t strike me as cruel or violent, I don’t believe he’d mistreat a partner,” She reflected. “What about Meliane? The only heir of that extremely wealthy noble. The man will join Hades any day now, Antinous would rule his house in the girl’s name and, even better, he’d have to leave court for it. I wouldn’t have to deal with his nonsense anymore.”
Telemachus, his brow furrowed and his mouth set in a tense line, replied. “Meliane is far too docile. I don’t see Antinous satisfied with a submissive wife.”
“Do you think so?” Penelope questioned, reflecting on her son’s words. “After all that talk about beauty, sweetness, and delicacy… I didn't think he'd mind a partner with those traits.”
But, when she heard her own words, she knew her son was right. A man like Antinous would certainly want a beauty, but not one who bowed their head. He needed something more. Someone who’d push back, who’d give as good as they got.
“How about Asteria, then?” She suggested. “That disobedient girl who skips embroidery lessons to play with swords with the boys?”
Telemachus’s voice sounded oddly controlled when he replied. “Antinous would never settle for a marriage outside the royal family, mother.”
Her son was right once again, he could read a person as well as she could, after all. Penelope sighed, disappointed that her initial plan looked like it wouldn't succeed, until a new idea popped into her head.
“What about one of your cousins?” Telemachus’s jaw dropped.
“The Climenes’ twins!” She went on, growing more excited as the idea became more concrete. “Both handsome boys and brave warriors. Sons of a princess and your father’s second-in-command. If he wants a fierce beauty with royal blood, there’s no better option.”
She spoke with genuine enthusiasm, convinced she was finally faced with a perfect solution. It was only when she looked back at her son that she noticed the change in his posture.
She knew that expression. It was rarely directed at her, but the queen could see it clearly: Telemachus was annoyed.
“Can we change the subject?” He asked, his voice seemingly light, but she noticed the tension in his jaw. “The suitors seem to invade all our spaces, even our conversations,” The prince went on, a smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. “Let’s enjoy our time together and talk about something else.”
“But darling…” She tried to insist, curious about his reaction and, at the same time, eager to carry on with her plan.
And then he interrupted her. “Please, mommy.”
And really, how could she say no to those two words?
***
5.
Penelope was walking alone through the silent halls of the palace. The night was quiet after a pleasant dinner with her ladies-in-waiting. She was tired, but content, it was rare for a day to end so lightly.
As she neared the royal wing, she noticed a figure moving up ahead. At first, she ignored it; probably just a servant carrying out their duties or a guard making his rounds. But as she drew closer to a torch casting a faint light across the corridor, she recognized the shadow: Antinous.
The queen’s heart raced. What was he doing there, at that hour? Was he trying to approach her? Taking advantage of a moment when he knew she’d be alone, hoping for a private conversation? Or perhaps something bolder, a stolen moment in the dark?
But then darker thoughts crept in. What if he was trying to break into her chambers? To force himself on her?
Taking a deep breath to try to contain the panic rising in her chest, Penelope quickened her pace. She kept her composure until she reached her room and, once inside, locked the door behind her, fear still pulsing in her veins.
Now that she was safe, Penelope realized she didn’t truly believe Antinous would hurt her, but what about the others? The queen made a firm decision: she would no longer walk through the palace at night without an escort. The corridors of what should be her home were no longer safe, and she couldn’t afford to be unprotected.
While the queen locked herself, just a few steps ahead, another door opened.
Hurried footsteps crossed the corridor. Antinous stopped in front of the door and knocked discreetly, in a specific rhythm he had repeated many times before.
He had barely finished the final knock when the door flew open, revealing Telemachus and his radiant smile.
Without a word, the prince pulled him inside, quickly closing the door behind him. With a swift motion, he pushed Antinous against the wood, gluing his body to his. The kiss that followed was hungry, impatient.
“You definitely took your time,” Telemachus smiled against his lips. “What took you so long?”
Antinous let out a heavy sigh, resting his forehead against the prince’s. “Your mother almost saw me. I was just arriving when she appeared,” He hesitated. “She’s astute. If she had seen me…”
Telemachus laughed, entwining his fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “If she didn’t see you, then there’s nothing to worry about.”
Telemachus leaned in for another kiss, but Antinous turned his face away, still anxious. “You don’t understand. I want you, Telemachus, more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. But I want all of you, and for that, I need your mother’s approval.” The rest of the sentence came out in a nervous whisper, as if the queen might hear them through the walls. “And she won’t be pleased to know I deflowered her son, let alone that I’ve been coming to your room every night since.”
“And you still claim not to be sweet,” The prince sighed, brushing a hand tenderly across his face. That had been the most surprising part when they started their relationship: how gentle Antinous was to him. It was a pleasant surprise, Telemachus loved how special the man made him feel.
Yet, in moments like this, sweetness was the last thing the prince wanted from him. “I appreciate that you want my mother’s approval, but could you worry about her opinion some other time? I’m here. I've missed you. And I want you so much…”
The worry on Antinous’s face melted into a crooked smile, his eyes darkening with desire. “So, my pretty little prince wants attention?” He murmured in a low, husky voice, his lips brushing against Telemachus’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. With a firm hand on his waist, Antinous pulled him close, their bodies pressed together impossibly close. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give you everything. I’ll make up for every second I made you wait.”
Telemachus gave him a wicked smile and pulled him into another kiss. Their kisses grew more urgent, Antinous gripped the boy by the thighs and lifted him with ease, making him wrap his legs around the man's waist, clinging to him.
The man's mouth trailed down the prince’s neck, hungrier with each step, leaving hot trails along his skin. Antinous carried him across the room to the bed, ready to fulfill his promise. There was no room left for worry between them, only pleasure.
***
6.
On sunny days like that one, Penelope could always be found in the same place: on a balcony over the central courtyard, a spot carefully chosen, from where she could be seen by all, yet far enough that no one crossing the courtyard could truly see what she was doing.
From the top of the balcony, she wove her excuse, her silent weapon against the suitors. She had promised everyone she would choose a new husband once she finished the tapestry she was making in honor of the one she had lost, and so she worked on it in plain sight whenever the sun shone in the sky, only to unravel it in secret at night.
As her hands ran through the fabric, she reflected on the image slowly taking shape from thread and cloth: herself, sitting with Odysseus by her side, and in the queen’s arms a baby Telemachus. A long-lived memory which she now reconstructed day by day, stitch by stitch.
Her chest tightens every time she traces the contours of their faces during the day, and her heart breaks time after time when she unravels them at night. Telemachus had been so young when his father left… Odysseus had missed so much, hadn’t even witnessed the first day of his son's name.
Everyone says the boy resembles her physically, and it is true. The blue eyes, the black hair, the delicate features… But, whenever she embroiders the three of them together, Penelope finds herself thinking of the traits her son had inherited from his father: his crooked smile, his watchful gaze, his rebellious hair…
What affected her most, however, were the invisible similarities. Those that only someone who knew them both deeply could recognize. His quick mind, the kindness that guided his actions, his growing boldness, the fire that burned within him…
Lost in thought, she only noticed the presence beside her when a voice broke the silence.
“The piece is lovely. Even if it still seems far from finished.” Penelope startled and turned to the newcomer. Antinous. His comment made her wary, was it just another one of his compliments, or was he implying that her delay in finishing the tapestry was suspicious?
“You and the old king,” He stepped closer, still keeping a respectful distance, his eyes fixed on the tapestry. “And Telemachus. So little…”
She didn’t respond, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. “It must not be easy to stitch him like that,” His voice was surprisingly tender. “He’s changed so much.”
“Yes, it is difficult,” She admitted. Even if she wanted to, Penelope couldn’t keep ignoring him. “He grew up too fast. And yet, I still remember so clearly what his face looked like at that age… When I’m here, sometimes I forget the man he’s become.”
“And he’s grown well.” Antinous let out a soft smile.
“Yes…” She agreed. She didn’t understand where he was going with that conversation, but so far he had been nothing but polite, so she would respond in the same way. “He’s become a man of courage, of intelligence. And he still carries so much tenderness within him.”
“A reflection of his mother.” Antinous said, so genuinely it left her speechless.
“Thank you, Antinous,” She replied at last. “To be compared to him is a compliment to me, but he is so much more than just my reflection. He became better than I could’ve dreamed, considering everything…”
“It couldn't be any other way, not with all the love you gave him,” He murmured, almost reverently. “I believe love has that power, even when unspoken, even when hidden, to improve even the worst situations. To transform any man.”
She stared at him, having to make a conscious effort to keep her jaw from dropping. Where was the insolent man she despised? She could see traces of him in his manners, but something inside him seemed different, strangely softer.
“I won’t take up any more of your time,” He said, bowing respectfully. “Have a good day, my queen.”
Then he walked away, and Penelope watched him disappear down the corridor.
That speech, Antinous' words about how love could improve a man… Was he speaking about himself… and her?
She could hardly believe it… Could it be that Antinous had truly fallen in love with her?
Now that she was finally alone, the queen sighed, exhausted. She didn’t know what was worse: that he was trying to win her over out of greed or out of love. But either way, it seemed the man would only grow more persistent.
***
7.
The accounting scrolls were spread across the garden table, small pebbles placed atop each one to keep the early afternoon breeze from carrying them away. The queen liked to review the kingdom’s finances there, among the trees and flowers, the view softened the tedious task.
Penelope massaged her temple and sighed before lifting her gaze. As usual, she had taken refuge beneath the branches of an olive tree; the good memories of the past and the hope for better days that the tree evoked made any obligation bearable.
She was about to return to her reading when the sound of footsteps caught her attention.
Antinous.
Penelope silently prayed to the gods that he wouldn’t notice her, she wasn’t sure she would be able to maintain the courtesy expected of her in the face of his nonsense after spending hours buried in numbers
But her prayer went unanswered. His eyes found her immediately, as if drawn to her. He approached with steady steps, crossing the garden with such intensity in his eyes that looked more like he was crossing a battlefield.
Without so much as a greeting, Antinous began to speak. “Your Majesty, I never imagined that a feeling I always deemed so insignificant could change a man so much, until I was changed by it myself.”
He took a deep breath, eyes searching hers. “Love… I never thought it would be like this. Hell, I never even believed it was real. I always thought it was something you only found in songs and tales. Something that perfect couldn’t possibly exist in a world as cruel as this one.”
“So I became who I needed to be to survive in this world. All my life, my only concern has always been myself,” His voice carried a palpable weight. “I was never satisfied with little. Power, wealth, pleasure… I've always been willing to do anything, use anyone, to take what I thought should be mine. Until I met someone who made me want more, though for the first time, not for me.”
“Love disarmed me, my queen,” He averted his gaze for a second before meeting her eyes again, more firmly. “It changed me without me realizing it, without my consent. I still want more than a man like me should be allowed to have, but now my goals are different. A home. A future. Someone to live for.”
With each word, Penelope’s face grew more rigid. She didn’t want to hear it. She hadn’t asked for such a confession. The queen wanted to tell him to stop, to order him to leave her in peace, but something in his speech made the commands die in her throat.
“And now I simply can’t imagine living another day without confessing it. Without making it true in front of the world, in front of you.” Antinous continued.
There was an emotion in his eyes that was undeniable. Restrained, but so genuine that it was impossible to fake. Penelope couldn’t believe it. She had her suspicions for some time, but after this confession… Antinous was truly in love with her.
The confession alone was more than enough, but of course, Antinous wouldn’t be satisfied with mere words. Before the queen’s eyes, the man reached into his robes and pulled out a ring. The stone was a vivid blue, the exact color of her eyes.
“I know this might seem bold…” He said almost in a whisper, running his finger over the stone with reverence.
‘Bold’ wasn’t a word strong enough to represent the gesture. Penelope was outraged. In all those years, no man had ever proposed to her directly. The choice was hers, everyone knew that. He had dared to bypass her will even though he hadn’t been chosen. He had crossed a line. She was no longer confused, she was furious.
“...It may seem unconventional. After all, Telemachus is a grown man, the heir to the throne, and he doesn’t need anyone’s permission to marry. But you are still his mother. And I... I would like to ask for your blessing to propose to him.”
Penelope froze, stunned. Telemachus. The realization hit her like a wave, taking her by surprise and sweeping away all the certainties she held until then. How could she be so blind?
How could she not notice that the gifts weren’t offered to her as a woman, but as the guardian of her son?
How had she failed to see that his displays on the training yard were his way of proving he could protect the young man he wished to be entrusted with?
How had she interpreted veiled insults in his words when they were, in fact, declarations of intent?
How had she assumed his transformation was because of her?
How had she missed that the ring’s color had nothing to do with the blue of her eyes, but Telemachus’?
Penelope remained silent, still digesting the revelation. In front of her, Antinous kept a smug smile on his lips, but now the queen was truly seeing.
It was fake. He was nervous. He had taken her silence as rejection.
His calculated smile slowly crumbled. “If your concern is my intentions, I assure you, my queen, I love him, and he loves me. Nothing guides my actions but love. Love for the boy, not for his crown,” His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I swear it on the River Styx.”
The air around them seemed to freeze under the weight of those words. Penelope remained motionless, a promise to the Styx was not something that could be made lightly, oaths made to the infernal river were an eternal sentence for anyone who broke them.
The irrevocable promise, combined with a speech overflowing with sincerity, quieted any worries that might have existed in her heart.
The queen straightened up, regaining the control that had eluded her. “If you break your promise and hurt him,” She said gravely, “Pray that the gods of the dead find you before I do, Antinous.”
His eyes widened, surprised by the explicit threat, but then realization and relief quickly spread across his face in a smile. Perhaps the only truly genuine one she had ever seen on him.
“Now go,” She ordered, her voice firm though her heart was light. “Ask for his hand. I want to begin preparations right away, a royal wedding will bring a bit of joy to this palace.”
And, as it seemed love did not strip a man of his insolence, Antinous leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, mother.”
Then he turned and walked away, the queen watched as he hurried off to find Telemachus.
Penelope rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a smile. He was still insolent, but for the first time, it didn’t bother her one bit.
***
8.
Penelope hadn’t gone after them on purpose. She had simply been taking a walk through the lower gardens of the castle, when she happened to see them.
That area of the palace, dedicated for sword combat, was considerably smaller than the main training yard and, because of that, it was often as empty as it was now. There was no one else there but the two of them.
The weapons moved in perfect harmony, zeach strike delivered with impressive agility and precision, but, beneath all of it, there was a tension that had nothing to do with the fight.
Now that the blindfold had been lifted from her eyes, she could see even the subtlest acts: fingers lingering when a weapon was passed from one hand to the other, a hand sliding along a waist to correct the posture, the delicate gesture of tucking a strand of hair away from a face… subtle acts, which would have gone unnoticed had she not known the weight each small gesture carried.
She slowed her pace, wanting to observe them a little longer. Telemachus said something that made Antinous burst into a full-bodied laugh that cut his blow halfway through.
Even from a distance, she could see her son’s eyes gleaming with that reaction, as if nothing could make him happier than making the other laugh. The joy was so great that he seemed unable to hold it back, so he let his sword drop to the ground, stepped closer to Antinous and cupped his face with both hands, pulling him in for a kiss.
Penelope held her breath. Even though she already knew, it was surprising to see them like that.
The kiss was soft. Natural, as if it had been repeated a thousand times before. Slow, as if they could linger in that moment without fear, and now they truly could.
That delicate kiss, however, didn’t last long. Antinous, insolent and greedy, gripped the prince’s waist and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss in a way far too intense to be appropriate in such a public place.
Telemachus laughed against his lips, pushing him lightly on the chest in mock reproach, only to pull him back by the tunic, starting an even more urgent kiss.
Penelope huffed, a mixture of disapproval and amusement. That was absolutely inappropriate, they were in the middle of the palace, anyone could see them. Even so, the queen didn’t mind.
She then turned away, deciding to leave them alone. They deserved to enjoy that moment.
‘At least he’s handsome,’ She thought in silent surrender. ‘And knows how to make my son smile.’
Penelope sighed. She might have hated Antinous when he was one of her suitors, but as her son’s fiancé… well, that was a different story.