The full moon shone across the Ithacan landscape. The sky was dark and deep and the stars went off into oblivion. Penelope looked up at the sturdy trunk of the tree standing before her. She hadn't climbed one in years, and had always had a natural talent for it. She swung onto the first branch, landing lightly, and made her way up until she was at the highest she could go. She hugged the trunk for balance and stared out into the vast empty night. She'd been needing a hiding place for a long time, and wondered why she hadn't thought of this sooner. Cacius was stumbling home beneath her. He didn't bother to look up. She smiled, knowing they would never find her.
Her kingdom seemed so vast, yet utterly insignificant as she looked out. Odysseus had left her the title of king, but king of what? Of a land half empty from the casualties of foreign wars. A land where no one acknowledged their king as anything more than something to be bought over and used to boost their own power.
"Some king I am," she said to herself, "Hiding from my own subjects."
But she knew the truth of the matter. All attempts at ridding herself of the suitors were fruitless. Every time she sent one away, two new suitors would come, and so on. She had always hated the practice of suitors. They never wanted the woman they were to woo, only what she owned. They certainly didn't want her. A woman nearly twice their age. She never thought herself very pretty to begin with, and it only worsened with age and loneliness.
It was at these moments that her mind seemed to be a little Olympus all it's own. And the gods within her mind argued day and night, never giving her a moment's peace.
"Odysseus will be coming any minute now, I can feel it!" Aphrodite would say.
"No he isn't. He's probably dead, if not off at some island, ravishing a sea nymph. He's a lecherous, dishonest man," Hera would reply.
"But even so it's you that he loves, Penelope. You are his only thought!" Aphrodite would retort.
"Keep your kingdom, Penelope. For it truly is yours now. You are their king, and there is no need for a husband to stand in your way," Hera said, trying to look on the bright side of things.
"Ah, but the suitors are becoming restless. Reap the benefits while you're still desirable," said Demeter.
"Now, now, the best thing to do is exactly what you have been. A sturdy rock can bear all storms," said Hestia.
They would go on like this in her mind, and she would only observe. Rarely did they agree, though they helped her make some of the best and worst decisions of her reign, and of her life.
She shook her head and her little Olympus faded away. She was in no mood to argue with herself, though she did so constantly. She always questioned why he'd ever managed to love her. She tried not to think about it, but of course never succeeded. It wasn't that she was terribly ugly or unpleasant, but just bizarre. That was why no one had ever loved her before or since. She had no interest in normal things like suitors and power. It was thrust upon her and she did the best she could with it. It had been many years since Odysseus left, and by then she'd ruled Ithaca longer than he had, though no one thought of her as their king. Still, she didn't want this absolute power that all the suitors lusted after. She just wanted him home...
She felt a rustling beneath her and held onto the branch fearfully. She looked down to see someone duck beneath the branch.
"Penelope?" came an unfamiliar voice.
She looked down in shock. Someone had found her.
"Penelope?" came the voice again.
She sighed, "Yes?"
"Oh, it is you. What are you doing up there?"
She was taken aback. The voice was gentle and innocent, unlike the other suitors.
"Has someone sent you here?"
"No, but you still haven't answered me..." he said nervously.
"I am here to avoid men like you. Apparently I've failed in doing that."
"Sorry I guess... would you mind if I came up there... I was actually trying to do the same thing."
She shrugged, "I suppose it doesn't matter."
He climbed up, albeit clumsily, and sat on a branch near her.
"I suppose you think this gives you leverage in the situation. Well it doesn't. You are a child as are they."
"Sorry, your majesty."
He was the only one to call her that. He must have been younger than Telemakhos. He still had no facial hair and didn't seem to be drunk.
She looked away from him and back out at the sky. He was odd and almost reminded her of herself when she was his age. Always mindful of people, though you could tell what they were really thinking behind the polite facade. Seeing a young man next to her, she remembered the first time she had ever scaled this tree fourteen years ago...
Dawn came early that morning and the dew made the air cold and humid. Penelope shivered in her thin slave's frock. It was the only thing she owned at that point except a wedding dress, and the morning chilled her. She sat at the highest branch of the tallest tree she could find near the palace and looked out at what would be her new kingdom.
It frightened her, all of it. She was a slave, after all, and for a slave to become a queen was nearly impossible. She'd been told all her life to not get her hopes up, and to be grateful for whatever suitors she received. But no one had ever told her what to do if things did go your way, and it scared her. She wasn't meant to be queen. The gods would surely seek vengeance. Not to mention the fact that her father and family had never agreed to the wedding, making it unofficial. That scared her too. Who knew what the gods would do to them as a result. The cold wind whipped in her hair and sent a shiver down her spine and she leaned against the tree's strong trunk.
She sat there for a while, staring off into space, trying not to think, when she felt the tree rustling as though someone were about to climb up.
"Penelope?"
She looked down to see Odysseus looking up at her, confused.
"Oh... hello..." she said distantly.
"How did you get up there?"
"Climbed. How else would I get up here?"
He smiled, "Well," he said, beginning to climb up after her, "I'm impressed."
She wanted to respond, but just nodded slightly and stared off into the distance again.
"Are you all right?" he asked, nearing her.
She looked down at her lap. Her ratty slave's clothing only reminded her of her place. She shook her head. She felt as though she were about to shatter into a million pieces. She couldn't look at him.
He finally reached the branch next to her. He looked her up and down slowly before speaking again.
"I can't wait until we can burn that dress."
She laughed without humor and looked down again at the rough fabric. It barely reached her knees and was made of the same rough scratchy material they made bags out of. She bit her lip. She was no queen.
"Of course, I'd get rid of it right now but I'm sure you'd object," he said, winking.
She gave him a teasing glare and rolled her eyes.
"You wish," she said, all too quietly. She kept looking out at the horizon, not wanting to meet his gaze. Tension ran through her very core. She shuddered again, but this time it was not the cold. She sighed, "Why do you wish to make me queen?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've practically said it yourself," she said, gesturing to her attire, "Once a slave, always a slave. I'm sure the gods would be furious if Ithaca had a slave ruling them... or the child of a slave for that matter."
"Penelope, you are no slave-"
"Then what am I?" she snapped, "If I am not a slave, but not a queen. I have no land or title to offer you. My father practically disowned me. I have no family ties. No money. And certainly nothing to look at-"
He began to laugh. "And you think I want any of that?"
"Well... of course..."
He reached around the thin trunk of the tree and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her toward him. She was shocked to find no branch beneath her feet, and her heart fell down to her stomach. She was going to fall...
But she didn't. He was unwavering, and he kissed her until once again the tension bottled up inside her released. After a while he gently placed her on the branch next to him.
"You're mine. That's all that matters."
She smiled.
"It's funny. I never thought I'd be taken, let alone won."
"What?"
"Oh, do they not do that in Ithaca?"
He shook his head, perplexed.
"In Sparta, unless you are as powerful and desirable as Helen, you don't receive suitors. If you agree to marry a man, you're won. Everyone wants to be won, but almost no one is. Instead you're taken..."
His eyes widened, "Meaning..."
"If a woman does not agree to marry a man, they fight. If he wins, he gets to keep her, but if he loses, he remains single and ashamed. We're trained for years just for that fight. And of course, then comes the wedding..."
She suddenly froze, looking straight ahead with fear and anxiety in her eyes, "The wedding..." she said quietly, distantly.
"Penelope," he said, grabbing her arm, fearing she was about to fall off.
"How could I forget..." she said, still more distant.
"Forget what?"
She gulped, "But, I suppose I am a Spartan, and must be brave about this," she ran her fingers through her long, dark hair, "I'm going to miss you," she said, unsure of whether she was talking to him or her hair.
"What?"
"Well, I'm going to lose my hair, then you. So obviously I'm going to miss them both..."
"Wait, what are you talking about? What do they do in Sparta, after you're won?"
"The usual ritual... I am to be shaved and dressed as a man, and thrown into a dark room. You are to then have your way with me and then leave to go off to war for many years..."
He looked at her, shocked, "Is that what they do in Sparta?"
"Well... of course... don't you do the same in Ithaca?"
He shook his head incredulously, unable to speak.
"And of course I am afraid. What kind of king would I make once you leave, since there is no other king to take your place? In Sparta we have two, for this situation. I suppose I am the second one?" she asked.
"Penelope. You will hopefully never have to take my place. There is no war going on. I am not needed. And as for your femininity you keep it. What a violent wedding ritual."
"We are a violent people. A society of warriors. That is why they didn't like me. I am too peaceful a woman for their tastes. But of course I am a savage compared to the women of here, and of the mainland. So... you're not going to leave me for years, as the Spartan men do?"
"Penelope, I will be here always," he said.
Penelope cringed as she remembered his words, and how ironic their whole union turned out to be. The gods had truly forsaken them. She'd known it all along. Their unofficial marriage angered Hera, the most wrathful goddess, and as a result Penelope was being punished. She awoke from her reverie to the sound of the raucous suitors drunkenly singing. The young man had climbed down by now, and the sky was very dark. She shivered in the cold, never feeling more alone than at that moment. Wearily and reluctantly she climbed down, knowing that no one would be there for her when she reached the ground.