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Odysseus could still recall these times laying on Ithaca’s barren fields, Penelope on his chest, their hands joined at her round stomach. Then, a little later holding a little bundle of blankets in his arms, his head resting against Penelope’s stomach. He was almost asleep with her fingers running through his hair. The sun was shining, he could feel a little of tan forming on his body. The gentle humming of his wife made it so easy to just close his eyes and rest.
It all seemed so simple then. Before the war.
During those ten years of constant fighting, he felt the emptiness left by his absence from his family. From his wife, for which he had to use his famous wits to marry her and for his son. The child both of them so desperately wanted for such a long time. He missed his sister, it hurt him to see her say goodbye to her husband so soon after the wedding. He missed his parents. He missed his people. His palace.
After saving the infant, he kept holding it, afraid that the gods would steal him away if he let it out of sight. Finally, he had to leave it in Polites’s care when it would be time for him to show up to the last remaining meetings. He prayed for a quick end to the useless talks about spoils, he endured the brothers’ endless rattle, Diomedes's complaints and Neo’s grave threats. He only longed to reunite with his new son at the end of the day. Much to Eurylochus’s dismay.
“Captain, you know how it will end…” he kept repeating himself.
“Shush now, you will wake him up-”
“Don’t forget how dangerous the gods are.”
“Have faith, friend, we've come this far.”
“Yes, but what about your real son? Your heir? Your wife who’s waiting for you all those years? Have you thought about Telemachus? About Penelope?”
Odys’s eyes narrowed. “My family is the only thing I’ve thought about for the last ten years. You, of all the people, should know it.”
He saw Eurylochus as his brother. His second-in-command, his brother-in-law. And yet, he had always seen the clouds over his judgement.
“I love my family, brother,” he reminded him, patting his shoulder. “But… But I just couldn’t-”
“Then let me take the suffering from you,” he proposed, reaching for the infant.
“No!” he yelled, snatching him closer.
Both pairs of eyes wide open, both surprised by each other choices.
“Don’t force my hand, Ody,” Eurylochus murmured.
“Don’t you dare even look at him,” the King hissed, swaying the child as it began to open its eyes. “Astyanax is mine as far as I’m concerned. And you know what it makes him? An Ithacan Prince. Hands off, brother.”
Eurylochus’s narrowed eyes stayed as they were, watching with anger as the King walked back to his tent.
During the return to Ithaca, Odysseus felt his eyes close, almost drifting off. His slumber was interrupted rather violently as he realised the child was too quiet. He noticed the lack of weight on his chest and bolted out to the deck. He let out the held-up air in him upon seeing the child swayed by Polites. He approached them, trying not to be angry at his friend.
“Captain,” he said as a greeting, placing the infant in his arms. “I went to tell you the rapport when he began to cry. We’ve all seen that you’ve been exhausted…”
“I’m fine, Polites. We’re almost home.”
The memory of the Cyclops kept him awake. He hadn’t had any more than 3 hours of sleep for the past fourteen days. He knew he would feel like dying if it kept happening. For now, he appreciated his friend’s help, although he must admit, he had thought someone had stolen the infant. Scamandrius was sleeping in his arms. His little fist curled on the fabric, his chest’s movements barely visible with the thickness of it.
Back at his household, the anxiety of not seeing his family only grew. When Penelope mentioned the suitors, he knew something was wrong. Thanks to Ctimene’s attentiveness to their close ones, he was quick to solve the problem. If Odysseus was to confess anything: he never enjoyed taking someone else’s life. He never thought he was worthy of such acts, especially now without the pretext of war. But, seeing Antinous’s eyes lose their light after what he did to Penelope - did put a smile on his face.
He loved the feeling of the first morning in his bed with his family. To feel the closeness of his wife against him. His sons, both of them safely tucked in the little nest, which was the bed for that night.
The first bath was an intimate feeling. A moment for him and Penelope to relax in warm water, enjoy their closeness to each other after so much time apart. Her head on his shoulder, in the perfect spot for him to play with her hair. His wife soothing the space of his neck down to his shoulder. The silence was comforting, allowing them to focus more on their breathing, to make them truly believe they both were alive and there, just savouring each other's presence.
The crib stayed in their bedroom for many nights to come. Penelope’s palm didn’t leave him for almost entire days after his return, her presence calming him after their time apart. Telemachus, a curious boy, often chose his father’s lap to spend his little naps throughout the afternoon after dinner. Odysseus only encouraged the constant of them being in his line of sight.
With his fears came nightmares. Multiple nights when he was brutally brought back from his slumber. Fortunately, many of them had been silent. He would wake up, eyes open, but his body would refuse to move, laying stiffly. The scream would die in his throat. For those, less fortunate… If it was connected to his family he would gather them - his wife, who was already on high alert by his cry, their children, if any of them was in bed at that moment - in his arms. If not or he couldn’t remember, he would just leave. The screams and smell of blood were too much to handle with his family close.
There were those few night terrors which made him feel some sort of particular fear, unlike any others. Those in which he saw a creature, some sort of witch, he thought. Sometimes she would look like his wife, but never was her , sometimes he saw a woman behind a fog, pulling him like a puppet, sometimes another, still unknown to him, woman, she would somehow hold him down, he couldn’t move a muscle when she climbed on top of him, and he screamed and-
He trashed violently during those. Penelope alarmed by it, hoped to bring him comfort. Only for him to reject it, fearing he will harm her in shock. She would try to talk to him about it, but stubborn as he was, he swiftly changed her focus, or if he truly didn’t have any energy for more pulling in his chest, he just left. For the following nights - he would flinch back each time Penelope even tried to touch him.
There were other dreams, too. They would be very… disturbing as well, but not exactly harmful. They seemed suspicious, so he went to Athena to ask for answers. He met the goddess in the woods, in the parts of Ithaca where nobody came. She was waiting for him, first as an owl, then in her more human form. The daughter of Zeus didn’t hide her dislike for the younger prince, but continued to support Odysseus’s actions and ideas.
“Is it connected to the prophecy?” he inquired. “Are those the future horrors which will haunt me and my family?”
She thought for a moment, the hesitation was easy to read from her face. “I suppose some of it, yes. Some, are just Morpheus’s games. The remains of other choices you could make. You were reckless, that is true, but worry not.”
“I worry about Scamandrius’s future ones… Are the gods very persistent about him? Should I address it to him? He’s not even two ye-”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “You should. The atmosphere around this subject is… very dense between gods. I will help you, King of Ithaca, but know that it would be only because of your son. I see a great future in your offspring. I don’t want it destroyed by this… difficult situation.”
He regretted, and would always regret, not being there for Telemachus’s childhood. So many milestones in his heir’s life and he wasn’t even there to witness them. For that reason, it was so important to him to be there for each and every one of Scamandrius. Although, the child had some problems with it. He said his first words very late. The doctors said it was probably because of the language. The radical change in that stage of development from Luwian to Greek must have been confusing for his little mind. He struggled with Greek pronunciation much more than a regular child would.
It worried Odysseus, he knew the issues that would come out of the Prince’s lack of a perfect Ithacan accent sooner or later. He feared the discrimination that he would have to face in the future. He protected his family, did the best he could, but even he couldn't hold Scamandrius's hand forever. For now, he could only observe as his wife with the little boy in her lap made him watch as she weaved. She would talk and encourage him to repeat some words after her. But, his attention span quickly ended and his little hands reached towards Odysseus with quiet mumbling of ‘fafa’, his latest attempt between “dada” and “father”. He would indulge him, taking Scamandrius from Penelope. Holding him in the air, the child would laugh with such a sweet voice. Odysseus wished he could’ve done it with Telemachus.
He wished for more time with Telemachus in general. But, the boy was almost a man and Scamandrius was more vulnerable in other terms. It wasn’t that he neglected him, gods, no, but he knew the time they were spending together was very limited. Odysseus feared the consequences when the day that Telemachus would learn the truth will come. He tried, was very insisting, on bonding them. But he didn’t know what to expect. If the gods would be cruel and manipulate them. If Telemachus one day decided to hate him for everything. Or worse, if it was Scamandrius. He knew how hard it was for Penelope. He saw the distrust in Eurylochus’s gaze. But, he also saw the hope in Polites’s one. He saw the affection in Telemachus when he held his brother for the first time. He saw how gentle Argos was when sniffing the child. He was sure his parents would love that little boy like their own blood.
Odysseus moved under the covers, barely noticing being awake. A sudden movement in the room made him open his eyes rather wide. He saw Scamandrius on the other side of the bed, but his wife wasn’t with them. He quickly sat with his back to the headboard, fearing it was another of his nightmares. The tension left his muscles, as he saw his wife in a loose dress pace the room, looking for something. Argos followed her, pushing his head for some scratches.
“Penelope?” he pronounced her name with care, his morning voice with a little hoarseness.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No,” her absence did. “What are you looking for, my love?” He closed his eyes once more.
She grimaced, looking around once more. “My favourite neckless. I can’t leave without it.”
“Did you ask the servants? Maybe it’s under-” He cut himself off, opening them. “Leave?”
She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, yes, I leave for Sparta today, have you already forgotten, husband?”
“I-” He did. “When are you coming back?” He would leave with her, but he still had some loose ends connected to covering his leave for war.
“In three weeks, if the gods will let me,” she began to walk back to their special bed, before stopping abruptly. “AHA!” she half-whispered, half-yelled. “I know!” She kneeled by the bed, looking under it. “There it is!”
“I told you so,” Odys chuckled, but it was a dry laugh. He didn’t want her to leave. “Couldn’t they visit us, my sweet?”
“Ody, stop it. You knew about it for a month now.”
“Well yes, but, well… You know what? Fine, go to Sparta.” He pouted and rolled to his side, taking the child with him under his arm.
He heard her sigh before a new weight appeared on the bed, and a kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that.”
“You should just stay, then.”
“Odysseus-”
“I know, love, I know. I will join you in a minute to say my goodbyes.” After the door closed, he gently, almost unnoticeably, tightened his grip on his son. “You won’t leave me, huh, my boy? Never, right?” he whispered softly, placing his lips on the little hairs that were on his head. “My little prince…”
With regret, he had to get up. He had to put on his chiton, call for the maid for Scamandrius and join his wife and child in the breakfast. His family was waiting for him.
“Or…” he rolled once more, this time facing the dog. “You’re staying too, right buddy?” The tail kept wagging, as he rubbed Argos’s belly.
“Will we go train together today, Father?” a little voice shyly asked from his lap. Odysseus looked at his son trying to catch him in his cuteness with big, hopeful eyes.
Internally, Odys was screaming. His night horrors to blame - each time he took a weapon, the nightmares haunting him would become one with his memories. He could only see Hector making the final blow over his chest. The faces of the man he had slayed. Eurylochus pointing a sword at him. Murder of Iphigenia. A sea monster swallowing him whole. Patroclus and Achilles's bloody bodies. Those poor unfortuned women and maidens of Troy.
“Hmmm… Let’s think… I’m really busy today… But, Uncle Eurylochus and Polites are visiting the training grounds today, maybe you should go with them. Surely, they would love to teach you.”
“But… why not you? Were you hurt, Father?” The eyes ventured over him, checking for injuries.
Somehow he managed to pull up a smile to assure his son that nothing was wrong. “No, of course not. Some other day, okay? We can take bows, go hunting…”
“Yay!” The little yell was enough for the child as it ran out to search for Eurylochus.
Odysseus let himself chuckle at the pureness of childhood emotions. Then, he continued to frown, thinking of the possible solutions to his problems. And yet, he had more pressing matters for that moment. All this time since his return, and he’s still catching up on everything that happened during his absence.
Letting out a sigh, Odysseus rubbed his forehead. Ten years was such a long time.
He observed his sister the whole dinner. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He saw the nervous glances she and Eurylochus shared. He saw how she played with her food, but didn’t put anything close to her mouth. He noticed the paleness of her face, how her cheekbones became more visible. A few weeks prior to the whole gathering, he rarely talked with her. And so did Penelope from what she had said. She started to avoid them, and Eurylochus was avoiding any questions connected to her.
Odysseus trusted them and knew that if they needed him, they would’ve told him. But something was eating him from the inside. His genius mind was running multiple possibilities. Marriage problems, fights between them, illnesses perhaps… He didn’t let his eyes turn from how tired her smile was when she listened to Telemachus’s story about the boar they hunted last week. The bags under her eyes were visible, too. Eurylochus on the other hand… He looked more tense, yes. But… aside from that? Odysseus didn’t spot anything. Maybe the weird behaviour about Ctimene. The fatigue was easy to read on him as well. The King couldn’t help but think of the darkest of scenarios-
“We have something that we must confess,” Eurylochus stood up and so did Ctimene, whose hand he had been holding.
Both Odys and Penelope fixed their postures, focused on the pair in front of them. Polites, who was also invited by Eurylochus himself, furrowed his eyebrows, eyes flickering between the two royal couples. The tension between everybody minus the children was stressful, Odysseus was getting himself ready to hear the worst news when Ctimene’s lips parted.
“I am expecting.”
As everyone said their blessing, Odysseus left his heartbeat again after a moment of dread.
“Expecding whad?” Scamandrius asked, looking at his parents and then at his aunt. His Greek was finally improving.
Everybody laughed at the question from the confused child.
“A child, silly,” Penelope explained, ruffling his hair. “You’re going to be a cousin.”
“Oh,” he mumbled, still not comprehending that. “Where is id?”
Telemachus only rolled his eyes, eyeing his parents with a stare Odysseus couldn’t read.
Later after the celebrations of that joyful declaration, at last alone in their chambers. He laid on his side, while Penelope preferred to sleep on her back. He played with his wife’s long hair, admiring her beauty as she was on the verge of being asleep and being awake.
“I’m so happy for them,” he revealed, knowing she would hear him.
“Hmmm…” She yawned. “Yes, me too.” Her eyes stayed closed.
He let go of the strand he was fondling. “Did you see Telemachus’s reaction?”
That made her look at her husband. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
“He looked at us, as if he expected something himself.”
“Surely not a child,” Penelope giggled.
“Surely not,” he agreed with a smile. “But, maybe, just maybe… He hopes for a sibling…?”
That made her frown. “He already has one, dear.”
“Yes, Penny, but… well…” They weren’t young like before Troy. But, not too old.
“I’m-” She swallowed her saliva. “I don’t know, Odysseus. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
His forehead also wrinkled. “Why? We’re still capable. And healthy. And there will be no war in the future, at least, none that I’ll be forced to attend. I love our boys. I truly do, but maybe at least one more, beloved?”
Her mouth kept twitching, but not for a smile. “I suppose, but… I don’t think I’d be…” She hid her face in her palms, breathing deeply. Then, slowly, she moved one hand to her forehead and the other massaged her collarbones. “I already lost a child,” she whispered. “When you left.”
“What?”
She stared at the ceiling. Wet eyes shining from the moon. “I found out after you left. After it was already dead.”
“Oh,” he choked out, shocked. “I…” There weren’t many moments when he was left speechless. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, my love. I wish I could’ve taken the suffering from you.”
She hummed, closing her eyes tightly. “I don’t think it would’ve changed anything.”
If she tried to lift his spirit, she failed miserably. It only saddened him more, to know what she must have gone through. Alone. Without him. With one child dead and another growing up without a father.
“But I wish Artemis, Hera, Aphrodite, Hestia and all the goddesses support Ctimene. I will pray and make sacrifices for her,” she offered, rolling with her back now to him. “And for her child,” she added, but the priority was clear.
With unusual emptiness in Odysseus’s mind, he just moved to the centre of their living bed and wrapped his arms around her stomach.