Chapter Text
There is nothing more powerful in this world than a charming voice.
That was a lesson Odysseus of Ithaca knew well.
It didn’t matter how good he was at fighting or how smart he was when it came to strategies. If he didn’t have the ability to weave his words like golden yarn, honey dripping from each syllable, filling every space he occupied with vivid images through nothing but his words, he wouldn’t have gotten very far. He found, over the years, that it was difficult to get people to listen to him if he wasn’t careful with his words. Men, and especially kings, are a prideful bunch, something he understands very well. They never liked being told what to do, that they were wrong. It doesn’t matter if they know he’s the smartest man in the room, blessed by the Goddess Athena herself. They would throw him out into the cold night as punishment for disobedience before dragging him back inside, forcing him to make another plan that would better fit their pride.
Annoying, but ultimately predictable.
Surprisingly though, despite being taught by the Goddess of Wisdom herself, this was one of the few areas in which she didn’t teach him. While yes, she taught him how to be diplomatic, told him the do’s and don’ts of negotiation and its basics, she wasn’t the one who taught him how to weave his words like magic in the air. She wasn’t the one who taught him how to pick his words, how to change his tone subtly to manipulate whoever hears him. He’s always had that ability since day one.
She might’ve taught him how to swim, but he’s the one who taught himself how to sail.
It’s like magic …he heard his father whisper to his mother as Odysseus managed to calm an angry noble down. The Gods have blessed us with their noble blood once more .
That got Odysseus thinking.
He knew that he was a descendent of Hermes, the trickster God. Considering his own stealthy ways, it wasn’t hard to say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But, something in him told him that this wasn’t the case. That while his talent was a gift, it wasn’t from Hermes. It was from someone else, someone who he’s never encountered before, at least, not that he remembers. Which was somewhat worrying considering that if one has ever met a God, they would know that that encounter wasn’t one that anyone could forget.
Gods were always a fickle bunch, so to be directly blessed by one without having them come to him or tell him what they expected was a little bit unnerving.
Still, Odysseus wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, until whoever it is that blessed him came to knock at his door to demand something, he’s going to use it to the fullest extent. Train it until he can wield it as easily as he wields his bow, sharpen it so that it can be used as a weapon for his mind. After all, intelligence and strength both fall when faced with an overwhelming amount of charisma, one that’s been honed and crafted over the years.
One by one. Men, women, peasants, kings…they all fell down at his feet.
That was until they arrived.
“Bastards…” he growled as he paced, carrying his infant son in his arms. His wonderful wife was sitting down, looking at him with concern. He could tell that she wasn’t happy with this arrangement like he was, wanting him to stay so that they could raise their son together. But unfortunately, it seems that Fate wasn’t on their side, no matter how hard he tried to change it. “I can’t believe that they dared to-” he cut himself off before he got even angrier.
Palamedes you absolute bitch.
“Looks like there’s no more honour amongst Kings” he said darkly, causing Penelope to sigh as she got up. She walked towards him, her steps slow and deliberate before she stopped right in front of him, reaching out to cup the side of his face. Odysseus let out a huff of breath before leaned in, nuzzling into her palm as he felt most of his anxieties melt away with her touch.
“Deep breaths Ody” she whispered, her other hand going through his hair to soothe him even more. “It would be bad for our last few days to be spent with you raging like a bull.”
“I know, it’s just…” he trailed off, trying to find the words to describe his feelings. Words that felt sincere. “I didn’t believe that they’d stoop so low .” Telemachus was only a child! He wasn’t a threat to anyone. But yet, they dared to walk into his palace and put his only child in danger. All so that they could drag him into a war that he wants nothing to do with.
“I guess they were desperate to have someone with more than one brain cell in the army” she teased, but he could tell that she was also tense. That event was too close of a call for the both of them. “And we both know the lengths that people would go to when they’re desperate.”
Unfortunately, she was right. He knew far too well the things that people would do.
“Do you always have to be right?” he pouted.
“Well, one of us has to,” she grinned. “And we both know that it’s definitely not you.” That earned her a snort of laughter from him. “Come on, don’t tell me you forgot what you said all those years ago.”
“Don’t think I ever could” he said, remembering all those arguments on which one of them was considered the smart one in their relationship. They were still young at the time, so it didn’t occur to them that both of them could be it. All they knew was that in a dynamic, one was the smart one and the other person was something else, usually the strong one. But when it came to their relationship, trying to put one of them as the ‘strong one’ didn’t feel right. Hence, the fighting.
It took years of arguing and chaos for them to finally reach an agreement.
And by agreement, Odysseus meant that he was the one who gave in, asking her to be the ‘smart one’ in their relationship underneath the moonlight. She answered through tears, giving him a title of his own, one that fully cemented their dynamic for years to come.
“And? Are you re-thinking things?”
“No” he shook his head vigorously. “Absolutely not! I’m just…I’m just worried” he mumbled, looking out the window. “This is war, after all. Anything could happen. Things can change. What if I took too long to come home? What if…I’m no longer the same man I was when I left?”
“Ody…” his wonderful wife’s voice softened as she ran her thumb over his cheek, her other hand that was previously on his hair was now on his shoulders. “I don’t think there’s anything in this world that can stop me from loving you.”
Odysseus sucked in his breath, his heart beating fast. Even with all these years of marriage, Penelope has always managed to get his heart racing with just a few simple words. He looked up at her in the eye, admiring her elegant face, her black hair falling over her shoulders as she stared at him with devotion. The same devotion he no doubt had in his own eyes. “Promise?” he whispered. “Promise that you’ll always be my smart wife?”
Penelope smiled, kissing him gently on the forehead. “Only if you promise me that you’ll always be my pretty husband.”
He beamed, his worries and insecurities lifting away as he stared at the two people he loved most in the world. “I think that could be arranged, but only if you agree to not leave my side until I have to go.”
“Always the negotiator” she teased before they embraced each other, warmth enveloping the room better than any hearth. The feel of family sinking into his bones, of love and adoration dancing through the air around them. In this calm, he wasn’t Odysseus the cunning, king of Ithaca. He was just Penelope's husband and Telemachus' father.
As if feeling the fact that he was being left out, Telemachus woke up, crying. “Oh my poor baby” he cooed, “did we wake you up?”
“I think he’s annoyed we’re ignoring him, even though he’s been in your arms the entire time” Penelope said, gently running her hand through their son’s hair. She didn’t make any move to take him, something that Odysseus was grateful for. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with his son before he was forced to leave. “So, what are you going to do about your son o’ husband of mine?”
Odysseus grinned before he changed positions, moving to carefully put his son over his shoulder instead of in his arms. “I think this calls for a little magic” he smiled as he slowly bounced Telemachus up and down, twirling around the room with graceful sweeps of his legs like he was dancing. As he did that, he started to sing, his own soft voice filling the space. Like magic, Telemachus stopped, instead turning to look at his father with wide brown eyes filled with wonder.
Odysseus singing has never failed to stop his tantrums.
Penelope looked at them with a gentle expression, one filled with love as she watched. Odysseus, wanting to spend as much time as he can with his family, decided to stop and bowed before reaching one hand out, inviting her to dance. His glorious wife let out the most beautiful sounding laughter, one that always made the world around him a little brighter as she took his hand, letting him guide her as they stepped and spun around the room, the world slowly melting away, feeling like it was dancing together with them.
As they danced, Odysseus looked out the window once again for a brief moment, almost freezing when he saw a glimpse of something before it ran off.
A dog with unnervingly intelligent eyes.