"would you be wedded happily, wed your equal"
-heroides, ovid
and so, the seed is planted
In truth, Odysseus and Penelope came to be married thanks to Helen.
When it came time for Helen to be married, her father Tyndareus, King of Sparta, found his court beset by suitors from all reaches of the Mediterranean.
Helen herself was outwardly rather calm and regal about the whole thing. She never allowed herself to be seen or spoken to without her sister Clytemnestra and cousin Penelope at her side, and usually an even larger gaggle of relatives and attendants besides. Of course, many of the men fawned over her even more in response to such behavior. All they could speak of was how prudent and modest Helen was, all while being, assuredly, the most beautiful woman alive.
Although Tyndareus was really her stepfather (as Helen was on the long list of Zeus' bastard offspring), he raised her as his own, and everyone knew he loved and cherished her dearly. It pleased him to see how happy she was with the court so lively.
Nevertheless, Tyndareus would have been kidding himself if he weren't to admit that the matter of Helen's hand was proving to be quite a… handful.
"You recall what that horrible boy Theseus did, when she was just a girl," Tyndareus said to Odysseus, drawing a hand over his brow tiredly. "Only twelve years old, Helen was! Still preoccupied with games and friends. And then Theseus sails in under cover of darkness one night and steals her away! She was rescued quickly enough by her brothers, but what an ordeal."
Odysseus nodded politely, waiting for Tyndareus to continue.
"Now it's all just continuing, though these men aren't technically thieves. But I'm sure many of them wouldn't hesitate to steal her away if they thought they could get away with it." Tyndareus sighed once more. "Do you remember? About Theseus? I don't believe I actually allowed you to answer."
Odysseus waved a hand at the apology. "Vaguely. I was fairly young when it happened as well, and on Ithaca. But I heard tell—awful, certainly. Just about every kingdom would have brought up arms to rescue her, I'm sure."
Tyndareus raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Or to take her for themselves."
"Well, ensuring loyalty somehow would be ideal," Odysseus allowed.
"Mm," Tyndareus murmured, his mind on the matter of Helen's ever-growing hoard of suitors, more impatient and aggressive by the day. And honestly, that's exactly where Odysseus wanted Tyndareus' mind to be.
"I don't mean to insult you, my boy," Tyndareus said suddenly. "I know you are technically here as one of the suitors. But what with everyone… Menelaus, Agamemnon, Diomedes, Ajax, that other Ajax, Patroclus and Achilles—although those last two seem more interested in each other than her, honestly. And they all bring the most lavish gifts, save yourself." He quirked a smile.
Odysseus fixed his face in a look of mild guilt. "In truth, I've diverted my attention from Helen—no disrespect intended, of course." Tyndareus nodded, and Odysseus went on. "You've received me here many times hospitably, and I've grown close with your family. Knowing your concerns, I do wish to help in any way I can." The half-lie was so smooth he almost believed it himself.
"I wish you could," Tyndareus agreed, "but I fear there isn't much to be done. The suitors grow more and more restless; I refuse all their gifts, not wanting to be in any debt, but I fear sending them away for preservation of their pride. I know what choice of husband I would like to make… But I think it very likely that fighting would break out the moment I make my decision."
Odysseus could have told Tyndareus this weeks ago. But he had been waiting for this moment, and he'd barely had to work at it before it presented itself. Sure, he'd left an offering in Athena's temple this morning, but Odysseus figured he could never do that too often.
"Well, they are under your hospitality. If you were to, say, request they come under a sort of pact of allegiance, I can't imagine anyone's refusal."
Tyndareus' eyes lit up. "Do you think that could really work?"
"Undoubtedly, no one would refuse such an agreement when in your home, under the bounds of xenia… And I could help you to persuade anyone who doesn't seem eager."
"I would be in debt to you for the idea alone!" Tyndareus wasn't a stupid man, and likely he understood this was a deal he was making now with Odysseus, something that would require an exchange. But, tactfully, he let Odysseus lead the way.
"I am simply happy to help in any way I can. However, if you would be so gracious, there is something I would greatly appreciate your assistance with..."
and so, the suitors vie for attention
Standing against a column bathed in shade, Clytemnestra and Penelope murmured to each other as they observed the hoard of suitors that filled Tyndareus' great courtyard that morning, just as they had every morning for weeks now.
"It's never smart to say, 'all welcome, except Theseus,'" Clytemnestra was saying, doing a rather uncanny impersonation of her father's voice.
Penelope giggled. "They're not all so bad. I know you've been finding enough amusement in some of them."
"Who, me? If I ever entertain any man's attentions, it's only to fend off Agamemnon. He can't slobber over me all day, it's unbecoming." Clytemnestra was flippant but Penelope knew she liked Agamemnon's attentions; he'd been at court with his brother Menelaus for years, and there'd always been a tension between the two of them, something beyond animosity.
Penelope just gave a small smile and said, "At this point the whole thing does seem drawn out. Your father obviously wants to pick Menelaus. He's been here forever and we all know Helen has a soft spot for him..." She trailed off with a shrug.
"Gods only know why she's always had such a thing for Menelaus. You know, I once asked her and she said, 'I don't know, he just seems like he could really throw me around, you know what I mean?' Such a slut." Clytemnestra shook her head.
Penelope laughed but couldn't help but widen her eyes. She tried to imagine a man throwing her around in a way that could be construed as positive. It was definitely a compelling concept.
"She just loves the attention. She's a pig in shit." Clytemnestra rolled her eyes. Penelope couldn't disagree.
They fixed their gazes back on the men, many of whom were doing stretches and purposefully making eye contact with the ladies surrounding the courtyard, wiggling their eyebrows and flexing their muscles. It had been going on like this for weeks, and as ridiculous as it could be, it was entertaining. The show was mainly for Helen, of course, but it didn't stop the other girls from enjoying the novelty and getting aggressively flirted with in turn.
Penelope and Clytemnestra usually went outside to greet everyone in the morning before Helen did—she loved making people wait. So, the routine was pretty much set by that point, with the same group of usual suspects surrounding them and chatting as everyone waited for Helen to appear so that day's contests and banquets could begin.
Menelaus and Agamemnon were a constant presence. They'd known the girls for years, having lived at the court in exile; they were always near them, staking their claim. The Ajaxes, called Big Ajax and Little Ajax for convenience, were usually around, too—Big Ajax because he was impressive and basically everyone liked him, and Little Ajax because he didn't seem to care how much people didn't like him. And then of course there were Achilles and Patroclus, joined at the hip, and Odysseus and Diomedes, who often spoke together (usually about just how much they hated Little Ajax, loudly and within his range of hearing).
There was a careful chord that needed to be struck by the men when talking to Penelope and Clytemnestra—something between being open with them, teasing and crude, yet making a good enough impression that the girls wouldn't report back anything too negative to Helen or their fathers.
But it had been a few weeks now and, well. Standards were getting lax.
"I'm just saying that it can't possibly take Helen this long to get ready in the morning," Agamemnon said. "I've been here for years—I know it doesn't take her this long"
"I'm sure I don't know what you're implying." Clytemnestra sniffed.
"I'm saying that it's convenient timing that this extended morning ritual began right when all the suitors showed up." Agamemnon gestured to the group.
"Convenient for who, exactly," Achilles muttered, and Patroclus nudged him.
Clytemnestra plowed on, speaking over him: "If you're saying what I think you're saying, I am both shocked and appalled that you would make any such suggestion about my dear sister." Her expression was deadpan, and Penelope pressed her lips together to conceal a smile.
"I'm sure she has every reason to keep us waiting," Menelaus cut in, ever respectful and starry-eyed where Helen was concerned. "Any minute spent in her presence is a gift." You could practically hear the sound of the men repressing groans—and the actual sound of Little Ajax not bothering to conceal his groan at all.
"Thank you for your understanding, Menelaus," Penelope interjected pointedly, shooting him a genuine smile.
"Yeah, you should take notes," Clytemnestra said to Agamemnon, and then pointed at Little Ajax. "You too. Not just that groan crap, either—I heard you outside the kitchens the other day, trying to convince one of the servants to spy on us for you."
"Smooth," Diomedes quipped as the other men jeered, Ajax protesting loudly.
"Listen." Achilles' voice cut through the banter. "We need to remember what the real point here is." He paused for effect.
"Yes?" Big Ajax prompted.
"The real point is that Agamemnon has no right to judge anyone else's grooming routine—you literally spend hours just greasing yourself up in oil every morning. You simply cannot talk shit about something like this." Odysseus barely contained a snort, and the other men laughed outright along with Clytemnestra.
Penelope still managed to keep a straight face, but her eyes caught Odysseus'. They exchanged a look. She smiled then, shaking her head.
As Agamemnon shot back, everyone started speaking over each other, arguing and bantering and throwing out barbs. Odysseus took the opportunity to sidle up next to Penelope. She looked up at him, mildly surprised, but gave him another smile in response.
"Will Helen be upset that her secret is out?" he asked, voice pitched low enough that no one would overhear if they bothered to pay attention.
"Oh, I wouldn't think so. I don't think that's really the point , you know?"
"Mm, yes, psychological warfare."
"You said it, not me."
"I'll make sure not to let her know that you gave up her tactics so easily," he teased.
Penelope bit her lip. "Does it ruin the illusion? I wouldn't want to tarnish your image of her. You are trying to marry her, after all."
"Oh, I never had any illusions about Helen to be tarnished," Odysseus said in a reassuring tone.
"I'm sure that's what every woman wants to hear from a potential husband." She nodded sagely.
Odysseus smiled but said, "Why not? Don't you think it's better to see things as they are?"
"I'm not sure that's what Helen would say…" Penelope hesitated. She didn't want to say anything bad about Helen. She loved Helen. But, well, she'd be lying if she said she didn't think Helen sort of wanted men to put her up on a pedestal.
"Well, what would you say?"
Penelope was caught off guard by this. "I don't think I know what you mean," she lied.
Odysseus' eyes twinkled, like he knew she was being coy. "How would you want a potential husband to see you?"
Penelope swallowed. She wasn't totally sure what he was playing at—flirting was one thing, but this felt oddly serious. Surely she was imagining it. Either way, she decided it was best to play it off with a mixture of avoidance, truth, and humor. "It doesn't matter what I think, really. My father's said I'm never to marry, as you might've heard—so I'll never have the pleasure of this husband market Helen's accumulated." She tried to give a lighthearted smile.
"Yeah, I have heard about that, actually." Odysseus paused, fixing Penelope with an intense, level gaze. She felt suddenly hot under his scrutiny. "What a pity," he finally said, voice low.
Before Penelope could think of how to respond, before she could even work through her mild shock, Clytemnestra was pulling her back into conversation, asking her opinion about whatever she was arguing with Agamemnon about then—and the moment was gone.
and so, we go back a step or two
The fact that Odysseus hadn't brought any gifts to Sparta was no oversight. He wasn't interested in wasting his time trying to beat every other Achaean prince and king to the hand of the most beautiful woman to have ever lived (allegedly). He had other plans in mind.
The truth? Odysseus had spent some time at Tyndareus' court before. Thanks to this, he was apparently one of the only suitors aware of the fact that there were, in fact, women other than Helen in existence. Namely, her highborn and perfectly attractive relations. Clytemnestra, for one, seemed like a handful in a way that Odysseus was not particularly inclined to deal with for his entire life, as fun as she could be to spar with for a time. The other sisters, whose names he couldn't even recall, were too young, and they hadn't left much of an impression anyway.
But then there was the cousin, the king's niece: Penelope. She was pretty and would probably be even more widely renowned if Helen's golden beauty didn't outshine them all. And while Helen was stunning—almost unbelievably so with her dark blonde mane and deep blue eyes and legs that went on for days—Odysseus found himself taken with Penelope. He liked her sleek brown hair that reached down to her waist, her strong jaw and straight nose, her thoughtful black eyes, her long creamy neck, and lower still the shape of her breasts under her fine peplos.
Seeing her in the court, he'd often had thoughts of putting his mouth on that neck, on those breasts. But now that the fantasy had a tangible potential, the dull ache he usually got from such thoughts had intensified, and he knew very well that he would like to make Penelope his wife.
Odysseus' choices were usually underpinned by the pragmatic, though. The fact of the matter was, he knew he wouldn't be able to win Helen. Or, the effort that would have to go into doing so would require way more scheming than he felt inclined to commit himself to.
But the scheming required to win Penelope was ideal—doable, but difficult enough to be fun. You see, it seemed most of the women in her family had some obstacle to their marriageability. In Penelope's case, it was that her father, Icarius, was apparently quite fond of her and never wished for her to marry and leave home.
Now this was a challenge Odysseus could both enjoy and easily overcome. His father, Laertes, had been on his ass about marriage for a while now anyway, and with everyone flocking to Helen, Odysseus had realized the opportunity. Tyndareus would need a solution to his predicament and he wouldn't be able to see through to it on his own; Odysseus would be just the man to provide that solution; and Tyndareus would be all too happy to pay him back with a small favor of his own.
Surely, Icarius wouldn't protest too much if Tyndareus insisted he had to consider a suitor for Penelope—and honestly, he ought to be pleased that a clever, handsome young king such as Odysseus was interested in taking Penelope for his wife while everyone else was busy with the Helen circle jerk.
So Odysseus was feeling rather pleased with himself, as per usual. What could go wrong?
and so, some revelations are made
Odysseus was on his way to that night's feast, when Agamemnon suddenly fell into step next to him.
"What have I done to deserve the honor," Odysseus greeted dryly.
"I know what you're doing, you know," Agamemnon said in response. "I'm doing the same thing."
"Hm? Not antagonizing people? Generally making a good impression? Could have fooled me."
"Please, you and your scheming. Good impression my ass." Agamemnon scoffed.
Odysseus brought a hand to his heart in faux innocence. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Anyway, my good impression with Tyndareus is well-established. I'm a friend of the family." He grinned, knowing this would especially piss Agamemnon off as he'd lived at the court for most of his life.
Agamemnon narrowed his eyes. "This whole not bringing gifts thing, talking to Tyndareus whenever you can… At first I thought maybe you were taking some kind of weird angle at trying to get Helen, but now I see you're not after Helen at all."
Odysseus paused. Agamemnon having any kind of insight was profoundly unsettling, especially if Odysseus hadn't seen that insight coming—the man had the subtlety and critical thinking skills of a wooden block, along with the actual physical bearing of a wooden block.
When Odysseus didn't respond as quickly as Agamemnon evidently desired, the latter man said, "Like I said, I'm doing the same thing."
Odysseus gave him a look. "I promise that you and I have never done the same thing. At least not on, like, an intellectual level."
"You think you're so smart that no one sees through you, but I've been thinking about it—"
"Don't strain yourself."
"—and I think you're using this whole situation to get one of the other girls while everyone's distracted by Helen."
"And?" There was really no point in expending unnecessary energy on verbally sparring with Agamemnon.
"At first I was pissed because I thought it was Clytemnestra you were thinking of, next best thing and all that—I'm locking that down for myself, so it would have been a problem."
Odysseus resisted the urge to react. He knew that Agamemnon was not earnestly trying to get Helen for himself, and that his role was largely to support Menelaus' cause. But he hadn't been aware that Agamemnon's intentions with Clytemnestra were so serious. It made sense, but maybe he'd underestimated Agamemnon somewhat if it hadn't been as obvious as everything else Agamemnon did.
"But then I realized, these past couple of weeks, and especially earlier—you're always talking to Penelope. She's the only other one worth any time. It's her, isn't it?"
Odysseus was not going to gratify that with a straight answer. "So you've been paying extra attention lately." He clapped Agamemnon on the shoulder. "Good for you. Well, you should be happy to know I'm no competition for you or your brother, then."
"You were never any competition." Agamemnon laughed. "We all know that Menelaus will be Helen's husband. This whole thing is a massive waste of time."
"I certainly do know that." Odysseus was going to have a lot of fun watching Agamemnon as Tyndareus made his announcement tonight. Sure, Agamemnon was getting what he wanted, but it was always nice to have confirmation that he was , ultimately and always, one step behind.
"And do you know that Icarius has said nobody will marry Penelope?" Agamemnon was giving him a look that could almost be described as pity if it weren't so arrogant.
"I've heard something about that." He held up his hands. "Guess I'm doomed to be lovelorn."
They had reached the great hall now, and Odysseus looked over his shoulder at Agamemnon as he put his hand against the center of the large wooden doors. "You're really on my ass. You want to sit next to me tonight? We could feed each other with our hands." Agamemnon made a delightfully angry face at that and pushed past him into the hall. Odysseus grinned and went to take his own seat.
On his way to the table for honored guests that the suitors filled every night, he scanned the women's table for Penelope. His eyes landed on her where she was seated beside Clytemnestra and Helen, as always. Their eyes met quickly enough that he wondered if she'd been seeking him out too. He turned his grin on her and she smiled back politely.
The feasting always happened before any announcements from Tyndareus or anything like that, as it was the guests' rite. Odysseus fell into conversation with Patroclus and Achilles, who were still talking about earlier that day. Achilles was quite a bit younger than most of the men, and as such had more of a tendency to say exactly what he was thinking, leading to his completely unveiled criticisms of people like Agamemnon—although Odysseus was starting to suspect that was just his personality, and wouldn't be outgrown anytime soon. Patroclus tempered him somewhat, but there was really no controlling him, at least not totally.
As entertaining as it was, antagonizing someone like Agamemnon could be done in a more discreet way. Odysseus suggested as much to Achilles.
"But you're always shitting on Little Ajax," Achilles pointed out in response.
"Ugh." Odysseus rolled his eyes, propping an elbow on the table. "I mean, fuck that guy."
"Exactly." Achilles nodded as though he'd made a great point, taking a deep gulp of his wine.
"Yeah, but Odysseus tends to do that in a less… aggressive way," Patroclus said with a smile. "Which I think is his point."
"You want me to… covertly shit on people?"
"Something like that."
"Or at least wait for them to come to you," Odysseus added.
"I'll see what I can do, but no promises." Achilles sounded resolutely unconvinced.
Most everyone had finished eating their main courses, and some music and singing had begun. Odysseus glanced up at the head table, where Tyndareus sat between Queen Leda and Icarius. It was almost time for Tyndareus to make his announcement. Odysseus eyed him, stroking his beard and half-listening to Achilles and Patroclus as they carried on talking.
He saw that Tyndareus and Icarius had their heads lowered together, whispering urgently. Icarius looked like he was becoming more and more irritable as Tyndareus continued speaking. Icarius began shaking his head, and when Tyndareus placed a hand on his shoulder, that was evidently the final straw.
"No, no—" Icarius burst out, not so loud that everyone heard, but loud enough for a few people to start turning their heads. "You—I told you before to drop this, this does not need to be part of the plan—"
"Icarius—"
"No, don't you start—she is my daughter, you have no right—"
Uh-oh.
The music and conversation in the hall began to die down as more and more people turned towards the raised voices of the king and his brother.
"You're not being reasonable, you have to at least consider—"
"I don't have to consider anything," Icarius interrupted, pushing his brother's hand off his shoulder and standing up out of his seat. His chair moved back with a loud screech. Odysseus glanced at Penelope and saw she was looking at her father, alarmed.
Tyndareus was taking pains to modulate his voice, but it wasn't much use. All eyes were on them. "We talked about this before, I told you the plan—"
"Just because you're trying to auction off your daughter does not mean I have to do the same, and it certainly doesn't mean that I need to do so in order to help you solve the mess you've gotten yourself into—"
Now Tyndareus was standing too. "Icarius, I'm warning you now—"
"No, I'm warning you! Make your little oath, but I'll have nothing to do with it, you cannot compel me to marry Penelope to that—that uppity—"
Odysseus bristled. Well. This had not been handled with as much tact as he had hoped.
"What oath?" Menelaus was saying, looking around with a hopelessly confused expression. Next to him, Agamemnon looked agitated. Many of the other suitors were murmuring amongst themselves as well, getting more and more restless.
Members of the royal family seemed just as confused. Castor and Polydeuces, Helen and Clytemnestra's brothers, were looking between their different relatives, perplexed. "Who's marrying Penelope?" they asked in unison.
"Nobody!" Icarius shouted in response.
"Icarius!" Tyndareus shouted back.
"What oath?" various suitors were parroting.
"The oath my brother wants to bind you all to so that he can marry off his daughter and force me to marry off mine in the process!" Icarius seethed.
Of course, Icarius' bitter pronouncement only elicited more questions, the suitors speaking over each other, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. As they grew more unruly, Tyndareus brought up a hand, raising his voice over the crowd. Icarius glared at him, arms crossed.
"I had hoped to announce this in a more, ah, tranquil setting, but yes, I would like to propose an oath for the suitors. An oath of allegiance, to support and defend the claim of whichever man wins Helen's hand."
A murmur went through the crowd.
"This would be an ongoing oath," Tyndareus continued, "to protect my daughter and the rights of… whoever is chosen as her husband. Should there ever be any trouble, of any kind, at any point, everyone would be expected to take up arms in defense of their union."
The murmur intensified.
"Really?" Menelaus piped up. He had a hopeful, happy look, not dissimilar to a puppy. But then his brow furrowed. "Wait, but who's marrying Penelope?"
"No one!" Icarius yelled again.
"I thought she couldn't get married," Big Ajax said.
"She can't!" Icarius agreed.
"Odysseus has expressed his intent to marry Penelope," Tyndareus said in a rush, exasperated. "A cause which I support."
Everyone in the room turned towards Odysseus.
This was not quite how Odysseus had envisioned this going. But he might as well seize the moment.
He stood up, clearing his throat. "Ah, yes." A beat. "It is my wish to take Penelope as my wife." He gestured vaguely.
"Not your best speech," he heard Diomedes mumble. Odysseus ground his teeth.
Icarius turned on Odysseus, pointing a finger. "I swear to the gods, you little shit—"
Odysseus was thinking that he was going to have to physically fight his future father-in-law in the middle of the banquet hall when, suddenly, Agamemnon was standing up too, so fast that his chair clattered backwards onto the floor.
"I would also like to announce that it is my intention to take Clytemnestra as my wife," he announced, hands braced on the table in front of him.
"Ah." Tyndareus looked at a loss. Even Icarius seemed thrown off by this addition to the commotion.
"This is fucking fantastic," Achilles said on an exhale. Patroclus evidently agreed, munching on figs, enraptured by the scene.
"Wait," Little Ajax started, "we're allowed to pick one of the other ones if we can't get Helen?"
"Oh, my gods," Diomedes said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Would you shut up?"
"You shut up!" There was more shouting as a small scuffle started to break out.
"And you thought coming here was going to be boring," Patroclus said to Achilles as the room erupted into an uproar.
"I should never doubt you." Achilles grinned.
Despite appearances, things were no more serene on the other side of the room.
The girls were watching this scene with a mixture of amusement, confusion, and horror. All of the younger sisters and cousins were giggling and whispering amongst themselves, as Penelope, Clytemnestra, and Helen watched the pandemonium, slack jawed.
"What is happening," Clytemnestra bit out under her breath.
At the same time, Helen reached behind Clytemnestra to grab Penelope's arm and shake it giddily. Making eye contact with her over Clytemnestra's head, she mouthed, Did you know about this ?
No! Penelope mouthed back as exaggeratedly as possible.
Helen wouldn't stop shaking her arm until Clytemnestra reached behind her to swat at Helen. The room was still in enough of an uproar that no one was paying too much attention to the girls, which was funny considering this was all, like, about them. Men .
"Did Agamemnon just do that because Odysseus did that? He's not that much of an idiot, right?" Clytemnestra was whispering, pulling the girls closer to her.
"Debating how stupid Agamemnon is probably isn't, like, productive," Helen said.
"Says the girl who's practically betrothed to Menelaus!"
"He's dreamy." Helen waved a hand. "Anyway, it's not like what Agamemnon just did is really the surprise here, Nes. Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down, you live for this shit," Clytemnestra shot back.
"And I don't mind sharing the spotlight!" Helen said loftily, putting a hand to her chest.
"You are truly the most generous bitch I know."
Helen rolled her eyes at her sister and turned back to Penelope. "Pennyyy," she said in a singsong voice. "Odysseus wants to marry yooou."
"This is a nightmare," Penelope muttered. "My father is going to murder him."
"That is so, so hot," Helen gushed.
"You could do way worse," Clytemnestra mused.
Helen nodded in agreement. "Exactly. You could be marrying Agamemnon—" The words were barely out of her mouth before Clytemnestra punched her in the shoulder. Helen snickered.
"I'm not going to be marrying anyone because my father is going to kill him and then me and then himself—"
At that moment, Icarius' voice rose over the raucous and the three girls quickly arranged themselves in demure, innocent postures. "I will not COUNTENANCE—" he was all but shouting "—this—this ambush—" He sputtered a few more times. Odysseus was looking at him with a level stare, arms crossed. Tyndareus had a hand on his brow, clearly overwhelmed. Queen Leda was at his side, patting his arm reassuringly. Menelaus looked mildly baffled but fairly placid, and Agamemnon looked like he still wanted to find a way to get the attention fixed on himself. The rest of the men were a mix of amused, confused, and frustrated expressions.
But Penelope could only look at Odysseus. What is he doing? She was at a total loss. Her stomach was doing somersaults and her heart was beating fast, and gods, Clytemnestra had really said it— what was happening.
Tyndareus gathered himself, clearing his throat authoritatively. "The ladies should leave. Clearly, we need to discuss… all of this now, in an organized fashion." Turning in the direction of Helen, Clytemnestra, and Penelope, he gave them a half-bemused, half-apologetic look and said, "I'm sorry, my doves, but we'll have to excuse your lovely presences for now." He nodded to Queen Leda. She gathered the girls and led them out of the hall, along with the other assorted women.
Once they were out in the courtyard, the roar of voices picked back up loud enough for them to hear even through the heavy doors.
"This is the best summer ever," Helen breathed.
and so, we go back another step or two
The thing was, Penelope had always had a crush on Odysseus.
She'd never told anyone, not even Clytemnestra or Helen, and she didn't think there was any possible way he could know. Penelope was good at not getting flustered with people, and she could always hide behind her renowned modesty if her heart was fluttering or whatever. He'd come to court a few times when she was younger, most recently when she was sixteen or so. They'd interacted plenty of times, but she didn't think he'd ever noticed her in particular, certainly not like that. Why would he, with Helen around?
Her crush had largely been limited to observation. He was clearly smart and clever and cunning, and all those things people said, but he was also funny and had a good face and he seemed kind underneath it all. She didn't think she was imagining that; Penelope was a good judge of character.
But in truth, the crush had really been born one day when Penelope was thirteen. Odysseus had been training in the yard with some other men during one of his visits. He'd been almost totally naked, which she was used to seeing as it was customary; at that age, she hadn't yet really understood what Helen and Clytemnestra were on about when they ogled men in the training yard, making lewd jokes and innuendos. But that day, something clicked. Penelope had seen Odysseus' tanned skin, his bare chest, his toned, muscled, hairy, sweaty body, and she'd thought, yeah, okay… I must be into him if I like that. And then she'd run away, feeling dirty.
The point was that she wasn't totally unhappy with this new development.
and so, men love making oaths
Despite the fact that everyone was still reeling from the events of the night before, no one was able to reject Tyndareus' proposal. So that very day they all swore an oath that they would support whichever suitor was chosen as Helen's husband, and that they would bring up arms with him if she were ever stolen away (a very plausible hazard where Helen of Sparta was concerned). After that they sacrificed a horse to seal the deal, because that's just how that went. Odysseus was feeling very self-satisfied. It was an excellent plan, perfectly executed, and he didn't see any way it could ever possibly backfire on him.
Shortly after the oath was made, Tyndareus announced that Helen would be marrying Menelaus, surprising exactly no one. That didn't stop Menelaus from fist pumping the air and high-fiving Agamemnon, though, or a few of the other men from pouting. Following that, Tyndareus announced that he would be perfectly happy for Agamemnon to take Clytemnestra as his wife, and sorry to all the other men but, ah, well—Agamemnon had asked first. This resulted in another round of fist pumping and high-fiving from the brothers.
But now everyone had to act happy enough about it, because they'd already sacrificed the horse. It was agreed that the weddings would take place in the following couple of weeks, and that all the men gathered ought to stay in attendance for them as a sign of good faith. The promise of a couple weeks more of free wine to drink and meat to eat and handmaidens to fuck proved enticing enough to make everyone basically fine with this.
As for the matter of Penelope's hand, Icarius was proving… more difficult than Odysseus had anticipated. He was still refusing to consider any suitor, especially if that suitor was Odysseus, whom he had now decided he hated and, in fact, always had. The hatred was fine and all, but how long was he planning on being this obstinate? Eventually he had to give into his brother's wishes in one way or another.
After all the business had been done, Tyndareus pulled Odysseus aside to thank him profusely once again for the idea of the oath. He also emphatically promised him that he was working on Icarius, and he would make sure to keep good on his promise to Odysseus in helping him to marry Penelope. It was just a matter of time, he was sure.
But Odysseus wasn't too worried. Things always worked out for him in the end. In the meantime, he figured it couldn't hurt to spend some quality time with Penelope. Maybe persuading her that marriage to him was an attractive concept would help convince her father, too. If she was really so close with Icarius, maybe she could even join in the effort of persuading him herself.
Of course, there was no other possible motive Odysseus could have for wanting to get Penelope alone.
and so, odysseus takes steps to woo the fair lady
As far as Odysseus could tell, the one upside to how much Icarius loved his daughter was that he also seemed to trust her quite a lot. All the girls already had pretty free reign of the palace, and this didn't really change even after Odysseus made his intentions clear. Icarius didn't whisk Penelope away and hide her in a tower or something, which had seemed like a distinct possibility from how he'd reacted to the news.
But that didn't mean it was necessarily easy to talk with her or get her alone, especially as doing so now would be all the more obvious.
After training one day, Odysseus was walking by himself, mulling this predicament over, when he ran into her by chance. She was walking in his direction and came to a halt when she saw him.
"Oh, hello," she said, her expression unreadable. That was funny. It wasn't very often Odysseus thought of other people as "unreadable."
"Hello yourself." He gave her his most charming smile. "I've been hoping to run into you."
"Ah, really." Her only tell was her hands, clasped in front of her tightly.
"Is that surprising?"
A beat. "I suppose not." Another beat. "I'm not really sure how to talk to you now," she admitted, giving a wry smile.
"How do you want to talk to me?"
"Ah, with caution?"
Odysseus always felt somewhat caught off guard by Penelope's dry wit, and now he was starting to think she was maybe… funny? Like, genuinely funny.
Before he could work that out for himself, Penelope was speaking again.
"I'm actually just coming this way because Helen forgot her fan in her chambers, so..." She pointed past him.
"You couldn't send a servant for that?"
"Oh, I volunteered. Sometimes you need a break, you know?"
Odysseus raised his eyebrows. "Drama after the other night?" he asked, as though he had nothing to do with it.
"Clytemnestra's not particularly happy to have to share the spotlight with Helen once again. We'll never hear the end of it." She waved a hand as though to say what can you do?
Before he could answer, she continued: "Anyway, I really should be going… They'll worry after me." And with that she walked on, skirting around him at a considerable distance.
Frustrated he hadn't seized that opportunity like he'd envisioned, Odysseus was determined to be more assertive from that point on. Luckily, lots of people seemed interested in helping him.
"I mean, this is totally for my own amusement," Clytemnestra told him the next morning.
Or that.
"Helen's insufferable and there's never any drama with Penelope," she concluded.
"It must be great being related to you."
"Please, she wants to see you, I'm doing her a favor." Interesting. Clytemnestra glared. "Don't be shitty."
"Just following your lead," he said, shittily.
Before Clytemnestra could strike back, Diomedes sidled up to them, nose deep in his wine cup. "What's up, are we plotting?"
"It is ten in the morning," Clytemnestra said in response.
"Is that too early for plotting?"
Odysseus shook his head. "Never too early for plotting."
Clytemnestra gestured at Diomedes' chalice irritably.
"This?" He scoffed. "It's mostly water… Mostly. Just get off my metaphorical dick, please. The competitions are over, we're basically just here now to get wasted while we wait for you two to get hitched. Oh, congratulations, by the way. I'm sure you're going to be like, super happy."
Clytemnestra was about to make a retort when Big Ajax joined them.
"Why is there a circle over here?" He gave them all quizzical looks. "Plotting?"
"Yes," Odysseus and Diomedes said in unison.
Clytemnestra pinched the bridge of her nose. "Penelope will be out soon." She looked at them meaningfully.
"Ohhhh." Ajax nodded and Diomedes gave a low whistle. "That makes sense."
"Good choice, man," Diomedes said to Odysseus. "I heard she can weave literally anything. I mean I don't know exactly what that can, like, do for you , but it sounds useful."
"My kind of woman," Odysseus replied, and it wasn't even a joke.
"I'm definitely willing to stand here so you can achieve some kind of proximity to Penelope, if that's what happening," Ajax volunteered.
"Honestly, that's a great idea." Clytemnestra gestured exaggeratedly at Ajax's gigantic frame. "If you just move a little back and to the side no one will even be able to see us over here—"
Diomedes was chuckling as Ajax pouted when Penelope came up behind Clytemnestra. Her steps faltered somewhat when she saw the assorted men, but she squared her shoulders and continued on as though it was any other morning before Odysseus' proposal. Or whatever you wanted to call it.
"Penny!" Clytemnestra greeted in a voice Odysseus had literally never heard her use before. She linked her arm with Penelope's. "I was just telling Diomedes here that it's not a good habit to begin drinking so early."
"I'm not one to judge." Penelope mustered a smile. She was dressed in a lavender peplos this morning, her chestnut hair half down, falling over her shoulders in waves. Odysseus was glad for the others' banter—it gave him a moment to enjoy looking at her.
Finally Clytemnestra said, "I was just going to invite the boys to play dice with us." She turned to the men. "Helen's with Mother and Menelaus and Agamemnon are with our father, so we're desperate for company. What do you think, Penny?"
"Well, if we're desperate," Penelope said in a teasing voice. Odysseus felt the urge to pinch her cheek.
"Penelope's hiding how glad she is. She always wins—she'll have you all eating out of her hand soon enough."
A pleasing image, Odysseus thought.
Soon enough they were all sitting on the floor in one of the palace's many rooms, playing with knucklebones. At first they played children's games for fun, throwing the dice in the air and catching them on the backs of their hands. But then they moved onto more skill-based games, making combinations with the knucklebones and keeping track of points.
Clytemnestra was proven right in her claim that Penelope always won. Her evident luck was coupled with a quick mind, and soon enough she was the only opponent that Odysseus was taking seriously.
"You have to be cheating," he joked at one point. "I mean, most of this is just luck. You can't possibly keep getting that combination."
Penelope sniffed, dipping her head. "Clearly I can." As she leaned forward to scoop up the knucklebones, Odysseus was granted a view of her cleavage down the neck of her gown. He indulged the sight until it was gone.
"I've been accusing Penelope of cheating for years, but I haven't yet come up with any hard evidence." Clytemnestra pouted, chin in her hand.
"This is starting to feel a little mathematically impossible," Diomedes quipped.
"Maybe Penelope's just favored by the gods," Ajax said. She smiled at him in response.
"Penelope is certainly favored," Odysseus muttered.
"Get a room," Diomedes said under a cough.
As if on cue, Clytemnestra sprung up. "I just remembered! Mother is expecting me to meet her and Helen to discuss...wedding stuff."
"Oh, I'll escort you." Penelope started to get up.
"No, no!" Clytemnestra exclaimed. "I'll be back soon! It's just quick stuff, like I said. You stay—I wouldn't want to break your streak. Ajax, Diomedes, you can walk with me, right?"
"That's not really proper, Nes—" Penelope began.
"It's fine, I'm about to be a married woman. I'm unimpeachable."
Before Penelope could protest further, Clytemnestra was pulling Ajax and Diomedes up and dragging them out of the room with her. And then Odysseus and Penelope were alone.
Penelope knew what Clytemnestra was doing, of course. You didn't have to be a genius for it to be glaringly obvious.
She and Odysseus sat in tense silence for a moment.
Odysseus was the one to break the ice. "Do you want to make this game interesting? You could probably win a small fortune off me with the luck you're having."
Penelope raised her eyebrows. "Luck has nothing to do with it."
"So you admit you're cheating?"
She laughed. "We can keep playing if you want, but I don't exactly carry around money."
"Sounds good."
They shifted closer to each other for ease of playing now that it was just them. Or at least, that's what Penelope told herself to justify the proximity.
They played largely in silence, and it was a surprisingly comfortable one. Sometimes he would groan and tease her when she got a very good roll, and she would conceal a giggle and tease him back. His hand brushed hers occasionally, and she tried not to react noticeably to the contact. She'd been doing so well, being firm, being just the right amount of detached and demure—she couldn't falter now, when it really counted!
"You know my father has heard about you," Odysseus said suddenly, rolling the die.
"Oh?" Penelope tried not to show just how interested she was in this revelation. "From yourself?"
"Not exactly… Do you remember when I first visited here? You were young but old enough for people to talk about you."
Penelope remembered very well when her crush on Odysseus had been born, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "Yes, I think I remember..."
"Well, after I returned home, and my father was interrogating me about what I'd seen and what my impressions had been, he brought you up himself. I hadn't mentioned you… Not for any particular reason, just the nature of my visit had been to practice being a king and meeting with other kings and all those things kings do. But my father said that he'd heard of the Spartan girls, Helen, of course, and Clytemnestra—and that he'd heard of you, in particular."
Penelope was surprised any story about her had stood out next to Helen, or even Clytemnestra. "Really?" She narrowed her eyes. "Are you just saying this to flatter me?"
"No, no, I swear!" Odysseus laughed, but something about his eyes, his manner of telling this story, struck her as true. Penelope felt her instincts about Odysseus were good, and she nodded for him to continue.
"He said he'd heard that you were a good girl—prudent, modest, wise beyond your years. The makings of a good wife, basically. He said if I was as smart as I think I am I'd turn my attention to a girl like you. I thought I'd just been learning about diplomatic relations, but of course my father had the future queen on his mind as well… I guess at the time I didn't realize a wife was part of all that." Odysseus gave her a sideways smile.
Penelope swallowed. Future queen . She didn't know what to say to that, so she settled for the safe, but somewhat encouraging, "I'd like to meet your father one day."
"And clearly he'd like to meet you. You can weave him a shroud, he's an old man."
"Oh, stop. He can't be much older than my father."
"Exactly my point," Odysseus said with a raised eyebrow. Without thinking, Penelope slapped his arm playfully and he caught her hand in his, interlacing their fingers. She allowed it, heart racing, and lowered her head to avoid eye contact. Odysseus gave a laugh at her show of modesty.
"I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I think maybe he did plant the idea in my mind." Odysseus' breath was hot on her cheek, and Penelope realized they were very close now. Her mind was racing, thinking of what to do next—lean into him, fend him off? But the dilemma was handled for her as Clytemnestra traipsed back into the room, now with Agamemnon on her heels.
Odysseus pulled away from Penelope easily, putting an appropriate amount of distance between them.
"Has Penelope been wiping the floor with you?" Agamemnon asked as he approached them.
"I have been thoroughly put in my place."
"Wow. You're already fucking whipped." Agamemnon shook his head.
"Oh, shut up." Clytemnestra rolled her eyes. She turned to Penelope. "There is actually wedding stuff we need your help with. Weaving. We can all play dice together again tomorrow."
Clytemnestra kept true to that promise. Odysseus may have thought that he was the best schemer of them all, but Penelope knew that no one could really compete with Clytemnestra. Even if she was very obvious sometimes. She just had a knack for making situations go the way she wanted.
The next day they were joined once again by Big Ajax and Diomedes, as well as Helen, Menelaus, and Agamemnon. Everyone seemed to have an excuse ready for having to leave, and Helen and Clytemnestra directed their soon-to-be husbands easily enough. After less than an hour of them all playing together (and verbally abusing one another), yet another situation had been manufactured in which Penelope was left alone with Odysseus.
This time, they were sitting side by side on a marble bench, and she was the one to break the proverbial ice.
"My family is very subtle, I know."
"I can't complain. They're helping me, after all." His tone was lighthearted.
Penelope glanced sidelong at him. "My father would probably disown Helen and Clytemnestra as his nieces if he knew they were doing this." She was only half joking.
"Are you worried about getting in trouble?"
Penelope had noticed that was something Odysseus often did: he would ask a question that was designed to lead you down a certain path, usually a suggestive one, but in such a way where it was impossible to call him out on it.
"No. The benefit of always being good is that everyone assumes you'll never be bad."
Odysseus got some look in his eyes at that, but Penelope couldn't decipher it. "You shouldn't even need their help then."
"Well. I want to respect my father's wishes."
"But don't you want to marry me?" he asked, enough of a lilt in his voice that he could beg off as teasing need be.
Penelope was too sharp to be fooled by his tone. "I believe it's my father you'll be needing to speak with about that."
Odysseus leaned towards her. "I don't think I should have any trouble with him. I'm very good at being persuasive."
She raised her eyebrows. "You think you're good at everything."
"Maybe I am."
"Does anything ever make you uncertain? Nervous? Embarrassed?"
Odysseus looked like he was seriously considering her question. And then: "No."
Penelope continued to assess him, hands folded over her knees, posture perfect. She'd managed to contain herself this whole time, but now that Odysseus was so close, and the expression on his face so sure, she was worried that she'd slip. She dipped her head momentarily, trying to think of something to say. Maybe he is good at everything, and I'll always be one step behind him. She wasn't sure she wanted that in a marriage, to feel less than. Of the girls, she'd always been the cleverest, the most studious, the most responsible—maybe not the most beautiful, but that was no shame when Helen was your competition.
"I think about you sometimes."
Penelope looked up. "I'm sorry?"
"In the way a husband may think of his wife." Odysseus was undaunted, and Penelope was surely blushing now.
"Oh," she breathed. She knew this, knew that he must think of her. She'd caught him looking at her sometimes, too long, eyes drifting lower than they should, and up and down more often than was proper. This was true even before his "proposal." She always got the sense that he almost meant for her to catch him, that his attention to her was partly calculated for her notice. She'd have been lying if she didn't admit to herself that she was flattered, and in all honesty it only fueled her crush on him. Still, she never really thought it was anything more than sheer ogling, or a sort of game intended to get a reaction out of her. Even to think he fantasized about her seemed self-indulgent. You'd have to be an idiot to think Odysseus wasn't… familiar with women.
But then there was his new public interest in her, his courtship of her this past week or so. It made the looks more valid, and gave her a swell of shallow pride. Still, it had occurred to Penelope that this could be the sort of thing someone like him would use to entertain, or that he was just trying to get her on his side.
Now, though. Now that he'd said this out loud, and his eyes betrayed some distinct emotion, all of her in-depth logic was for naught. Her cheeks, neck, chest, belly, they burned—she didn't think she'd ever felt so hot.
Odysseus waited a beat after her ineloquent "oh" and then he leaned even closer to her, breath on her face, and she felt her eyes shuttering closed on instinct.
When she just felt his nose brush against hers, he said, "I'm going to kiss you," and she heard herself go, "Yes, okay," and before the words were even entirely out of her mouth his lips were slanting over hers.
Penelope had kissed a few boys, when she was younger, largely on dares from Helen and Clytemnestra, and she'd even been on the receiving end of a couple unexpected stolen kisses. But she'd never been kissed like this. She was totally overwhelmed—overwhelmed by the press of his lips, his tongue sliding against hers, the scratchy feeling of his beard on her skin, the heat pooling in her belly. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she didn't do anything with them, leaving them folded in her lap. Odysseus seemed to sense her uncertainty, keeping his hands clenched on her upper arms, fingers digging into the fleshy skin there. She was trying to kiss him back, but she felt like she couldn't keep up.
Odysseus broke it off. He trailed his lips to her cheek, kissing her there once, and then down to her neck, kissing each side, and then to the dip of her collarbone. He rested his head there, hands still gripping her arms, and she caught her breath, completely unsure of how to proceed.
And then against her chest, she both heard and felt him say, "I'll still marry you if you give yourself to me now."
Penelope started, her mind snapping back to reality. "You don't even know if you can marry me."
He looked up at her, smiling crookedly. "Yes, I do."
She scoffed outwardly, an unusual gesture for her. "No, you don't. Just because you're—you're clever, and you always get your way, doesn't mean that it will always be true. And you shouldn't play with lives with only your own cunning as insurance!"
Odysseus seemed mildly surprised. "I didn't mean to offend you. I just want you, is all."
"I'm not—" Penelope broke off. Maybe she was offended. But she did still want him too, she couldn't deny that. "I don't know," she conceded.
"But you want to marry me?" he asked in a mock-whine, and she couldn't help but laugh, and then they were laughing together. Another comfortable silence followed.
Penelope knew what she had to do then. Reluctantly turning her face away from his, she stood. Odysseus' strong arms slid down her body as she rose, wrapping around her thighs. Looking down at him, she smiled and, on instinct, ran one hand through his thick black hair. His eyes closed for a moment, and when they reopened, he quirked an eyebrow at her.
"So… No sex?"
Penelope held back the laugh she knew he was trying to get out of her again, and instead fixed her face in her best look of regal dignity.
"It seems to me that you ought to speak with my father." Disentangling herself from his arms, she only allowed herself to smile once she was walking away.
When she was safely in her chambers, she fell onto her plush bed, holding a pillow against her chest and sighing dreamily.
and so, penelope does some thinking
As much as Penelope felt she wanted Odysseus, wanted to marry him, and wanted lots of… very improper things that a good girl like her should not admit to thinking of, she couldn't help but feel like she should make him work for it a little more.
It was that earlier comment, it wouldn't stop niggling at her. I'll still marry you if you give yourself to me now. She suspected he thought it was flattering. And it wasn't not… But it was hard to think about what she ought to find flattering or not when she couldn't stop thinking about how he looked at her, how he kissed her. This was the problem exactly! He must have known he had this effect. She couldn't possibly allow him to have the upper hand like this, could she? It would set the tone for their whole theoretical marriage, and Penelope wasn't so meek.
I'll still marry you if you give yourself to me now. It was just that comment, that proposition, that state of mind . It was classic Odysseus, so cocky and entitled. And yes, if anyone was in a position to be so it was probably him. He certainly was cunning and clever and strong and courageous and sly and a slew of other adjectives that Penelope wasn't going to compliment him with any time soon. He was full enough of himself without her help.
But Penelope knew herself, knew her abilities, and it may have been prideful, but once she managed to step back from Odysseus' blinding presence, she came back to herself and the fact that she was not easily cowed. Even if she had a crush that she was starting to fear was not simply a crush at all.
So yeah. She was going to make him work for it a little bit.
and so, penelope plants a seed of her own
Penelope was sitting in her family's rooms, working on some weaving for Helen and Clytemnestra's wedding gowns, when her father walked in the room and gave her a smile in greeting. She smiled back and watched as he sifted through papyri absentmindedly.
Rousing her courage, she piped up, "Father?"
"Mm, yes, my dear?"
"I just wanted to apologize to you for the current… situation." Penelope lowered her head, as though ashamed.
This fully gained Icarius' attention. Turning towards her, he shook his head. "I know it's not your fault, don't worry yourself over it. That Odysseus boy has always been a troublemaker. He charms everyone but I've always seen him as just a… well, an upstart."
Penelope thought that her father's opinion of Odysseus would likely have remained as neutral as ever if it weren't for his recent proposal. But she wasn't going to share that thought.
Instead, she perked up, as though it had been worrying her ever so greatly that her father secretly blamed her. "Oh, Father, I'm so glad to hear you're not upset with me! I do promise I knew nothing of his plans or—or intentions." At least that wasn't a lie.
Icarius walked over and gave her a reassuring kiss on the top of her head. "I know, my dear, you're not the type of girl to do any such thing."
Penelope nodded gravely. She considered the fact that if her father were aware of her encounters with Odysseus in the past days, he would probably spontaneously combust. And that didn't even go to mention the details , like the fact that she had, at least somewhat, encouraged him, and that she had let him kiss her and that they'd spoken of sex ... She felt the odd urge to giggle at the thought.
"I'm sorry you're now in a… rift, with my uncle," she went on carefully. The key here was not to be too obvious.
"So am I," Icarius said, exasperated. "Odysseus is a snake. He's completely poisoned my brother against me, Tyndareus won't let the matter rest even for a moment whenever I see him."
"I could never counsel you better than you can yourself, Father." Penelope lowered her head. "But of course, friction within families is never ideal..."
"A needless rift with my brother is the last thing I want, certainly."
"If only there were some way to resolve this conflict… To give your brother what he demands and to maintain your authority as my lord father." Penelope tried to strike an absentminded tone, as though she was simply musing about this unfortunate situation they found themselves in.
"Indeed..." Icarius seemed thoughtful.
Penelope waited for him to ruminate a bit more before saying, "I respect your wishes completely, you know." She gave her father her brightest, sweetest smile. "If I were ever to marry—which of course I won't as long you don't wish it—I could only ever hope to marry a man as good as you. If only some man could prove his worth somehow, or could measure up to you in some way! Of course, though, no man could ever do so, or ever surpass you."
Penelope gave her father another few beats to absorb her words and let his thoughts run away with them.
Finally: "Anyway! I'm sure you'll do what's best."
And with that, she turned back to her weaving.
and so, the plot thickens!
Lo and behold, Icarius announced to the court the very next day that if any man desired to marry his beloved daughter Penelope, he would have to beat him in a footrace. Only then would he be worthy of Penelope's hand. This challenge was not so much directed at the entire group of young men still collected at Tyndareus' palace, as much as it was, clearly and unsubtly, directed at Odysseus, and only Odysseus, the Reason for This Whole Mess. As such, men who would have seen this as a sort of Helen 2.0 opportunity did not step up to the challenge, as Icarius' words and generally terrifying demeanor made it clear he was not fucking around.
That didn't stop many of the men from boasting that of course they would be able to win such a race, and if Odysseus failed, well, then, the challenge had been set and Icarius couldn't just take it back—and, you know, now that they thought about it, Penelope was pretty hot. These same men found themselves suddenly glad that they had Helen and Clytemnestra's impending marriages as an excuse to stick around a little while longer.
Odysseus ignored those men resolutely and assured himself that this was manageable. Sure, he had… not seen this development coming, but it was fine.
Tyndareus even apologized to Odysseus under his breath after Icarius stormed out of the hall post-announcement, explaining that he had told his brother that he had to allow suitors the opportunity to court Penelope. At first Icarius hadn't given any ground, but it seemed that when he'd realized Tyndareus would not relent he had countered that it was his right as Penelope's father to set a challenge for any potential suitor. Which was technically true. And so here they were.
Odysseus was looking forward to seeing Penelope after the news. He wanted to see how she had reacted to it, wanted to see if he could read any discernible change in her behavior. He found that he thought about her a lot—almost all the time, really. It made sense, he supposed. His life did currently revolve around trying to marry her. More than that, though, he found himself wondering what she would think about things in general, how she'd respond to them, what she'd say… But in all honesty, the majority of his thoughts revolved around all the different ways he wanted to fuck her, especially after the kiss the other day. As inexperienced and unsure as she was, that had been fodder for masturbatory fantasies. The inexperience was part of what was sexy about it; he liked the idea of showing her things.
Odysseus found her in the courtyard after Icarius' announcement, lovely as always in a pale pink peplos. "I assume you've heard your father's decision?"
"Mm, yes, I think I heard something about it." Something about how she said that reminded him of himself.
"So what do you think?"
Penelope gave a little shrug, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I think if you win you'll be my husband, and if not then you won't."
"Not to sound arrogant—"
"Naturally."
"—but I think I should win easily."
"I'll certainly be very impressed! He was the champion runner in his day."
"What?"
"Did you not know?" Penelope was the face of innocence. "When he was your age he was undefeated. I believe he set records."
This caught Odysseus off guard. "Well, that was a long time ago… He's much older now." How had he gone so quickly from his initial, surefooted confidence to making rationalizations based on Icarius' older age?
"Perhaps! Still, his record hasn't been beaten—he's always talking about his best time. You know how fathers are about their youthful accomplishments." Penelope waved a hand.
Odysseus wasn't sure what to say—a very unfamiliar experience for him. He cleared his throat. "Ah, well… I do very well in the footraces." His response sounded lame even to his ears.
"Yes, I know." Penelope's eyes twinkled. "I've watched you in the contests."
Before Odysseus could think of what to say next, Penelope was saying goodbye, explaining that Helen and Clytemnestra needed her help with even more weaving. And Odysseus was left there, feeling strange.
and so, odysseus experiences an unfamiliar sensation: uncertainty
After his conversation with Penelope, Odysseus was not feeling as cocksure as usual. Wandering somewhat aimlessly, he ran into Diomedes, Patroclus, and Achilles in another of the palace courtyards. The men immediately fell into discussion about Icarius' contest.
"This is good news, right?" Patroclus was positive as always. "I mean, at least he's not saying he won't even consider it anymore."
"Yeah. Definitely. Yeah." Odysseus nodded.
Diomedes looked surprised. "Are you… are you worried?"
"No, of course not. I'm fine… But, uh, I did hear that her father was a champion runner. The champion runner?" Odysseus tried to keep his tone level and not reveal that he was, indeed, a bit worried.
The three men exchanged looks.
"That's what I've heard..." Achilles trailed off.
Patroclus gave Odysseus a sympathetic look. "Well, he's old now, and you're probably the fastest runner of all of us—you're always winning in the footraces. You even beat Little Ajax!"
"Penelope's dad is old as balls," Achilles chimed in. "And maybe when he was young everyone else was just, like… a shitty runner."
Patroclus laughed. "Yeah, let's pray all our fathers and uncles were just absolute shit at racing."
Odysseus raised his face towards the sky, as though begging for godly intervention in that very moment.
"Come on, man, I'm sure you'll be fine," Diomedes said. Patroclus nudged Achilles, who in response nodded and clapped a hand on Odysseus' shoulder, awkwardly.
"I know I can win," Odysseus said, trying to summon the confidence that usually came to him so naturally, and absently wondering how long Achilles was going to keep his hand on his shoulder. "But I'd rather have insurance of some kind."
"Mm, it helps having a goddess as a mother," Achilles agreed, taking his hand off of Odysseus' shoulder to gesture vaguely at the sky. "Have you been making sacrifices at Athena's temple? I do that even with the goddess mother. For you I'd recommend upping that to on the daily."
"Of course, I leave daily offerings regardless of my current circumstances." Odysseus pitched his voice, as though Athena herself might overhear.
"Okay, dude, don't be, like, desperate," Achilles said, and Patroclus sighed.
"Look, the weddings are happening in a couple of days anyway," Diomedes interjected. "The race won't happen till after then. You've got time to relax, or if you're feeling up to it you could even devise some strategy to make sure you win. I'm sure Achilles would be willing to shatter Icarius' kneecaps."
"Absolutely," Achilles agreed enthusiastically.
"You understand that you're not really going to shatter his kneecaps, right?" Patroclus asked.
"Duh."
"Okay, but I need to hear you actually say it."
"I don't know why everyone thinks I'm always just, like, walking around, looking to shatter people's kneecaps—"
Odysseus sighed. He was grateful for the approaching weddings. He could use a break.