she may be queen of ithaca, but forever will she remain a daughter of sparta.
pov: third person.
word count: 1,070
note: im not a greek mythology enthusiast, but i do aspire to be one (ty epic the musical) so this is my best attempt of writing penelope as a character!
Penelope. Queen of Ithaca, mother of Telemachus, wife of Odysseus.
But above of all else, she was a daughter of Sparta.
The absence of her husband within the confinements of the palace that Odysseus had built from the ground, it was almost overbearing for the woman. Every night was a rest from trying to stay afloat in the acknowledgement that she can’t wake up to the presence of her husband in their wedding bed, the wedding bed that Odysseus had made around the olive tree of where they first met.
It was too much for Penelope to even muster a thought that there was no chance of seeing her loving husband ever again, even more so when she is forced to see the figures of her 108 suitors bantering in the wide halls of the palace. Anger stirred within the daughter of Sparta with every second she spared to glare at their faces, to which they reciprocated with a smug look. “Where’s your husband?” was what she mostly read from their faces, but Antinous, the biggest wolf of them all.
“Someday, Penelope.” He came up to the queen so casually, as if forgetting that she held the most influence out of everyone in the palace, out of everybody on Ithaca.
“I beg your pardon?” She remained still and calm, keeping her composure as she always does when confronted with them. Underneath her neutral facade was a woman boiling with anger, appalled by the audacity of these men lounging about in her grand palace with their worn-out rags and dirty slippers. Especially the man in front of her.
She hitched a breath at the sudden action of Antinous, his figure leaning forward towards her face as she forced herself back. Her feet remained in place, not backing down from his attempt at physical domination. From another perspective, despite their height difference, there was no glimpse of submission from Penelope, as expected by the daughter of Sparta.
She felt a presence. A divine, godly presence. Confusion struck her but didn’t let it crack her facade, though the thought remained at the back of her head. What was this? With the lack of vision due to Antinous attempt of intimidation, Penelope couldn’t find the answer to this presence. It felt like she was being watched; not because she was about to do something wrong, but rather a protecting eye over her.
“Someday, I’ll replace your dead husband’s mounted bow with my own sword, and erase any form of his existence the minute I sit down at his throne.” Her eyes narrowed at the bold statement, but never did Penelope waver. “And the best part?”
A strong hand gripped her hip, and she grunted at the sudden impact. Flashbacks from the suitors’ previous attempts of being physically closer to her erupted through her eyes, however blinking them away seemed to have given her some sight in the current situation. She tried to come back to reality, not focusing too much on his contact but rather winning this unspoken battle of domination.
The unknown presence came closer, as if over-towering Penelope from behind. That feared feeling was drowned by the sudden emotion of confidence, as if ready to hear what he has to say after.
“I get to put my mark on you and replace the ghostly feeling of your dead husband’s hand on yours, with mine.”
The presence seemed to have placed a hand on Penelope’s shoulder, and suddenly the flare on her eyes sparked. Blessed by this mental power, she used her strength to rip his hands away from his hips, dusted her dress from where it gripped, and straightened her posture once more. Instead of a composed look, Penelope’s eyes were replaced with a playful yet somewhat deadly glare, as if her eyes were tinted red to signify the blood shed she daydreams about her suitors.
Antinous wavered, the wolf in him suddenly shrunk into a pup, but he dared not to let that happen as he made himself physically bigger, an illusion to the eye, and pointed a finger at Penelope. No words came out of his mouth, only an anger-infused glare with the inability to come up with a retort. Penelope’s voice hasn’t mustered a single word, and yet, she had managed to bruise him.
“Someday.” Was all he said before returning to his friends, his arms stretching widely before cheering with them with a glass of wine at hand. Penelope took one last look at the loud men before walking back to the inner areas of the palace, away from their backhanded glares.
Once far enough, her knees stumbled as her gown sprawled against the marble flooring. The cold stung her bare legs, but it allowed her to properly come back to reality. What had just happened? This was a question she’s been asking herself over and over, because this wasn’t the first time she had felt that presence. Every time she was faced by one of her suitors, especially when coming in contact with her, the presence grew stronger and stronger.
The daughter of Sparta was strong, concealed underneath her seemingly frail figure. But in those moments, she felt as if she can take them out one by one.
“I can feel you.” She vocalised to the empty atmosphere. Looking around her, she expected someone to come out, someone divine, a god. “I know you are lurking.”
Upon standing up and fixing her dress, she felt a lowly cackle that echoed the long and wide space as she whipped herself to see from behind, only to be met with the suspecting god she assumed had been lurking. Wearing battle armour with stained old blood against the metal, the helmet that sat just right on his head, the large claymore that no mortal human can even lift from the ground; Penelope was familiar with this god.
“All daughters of Sparta are mine to protect.” His voice dominated the air around them, and his hands went to remove his helmet to which his long curly hair was revealed, scars occupied his face which tell many stories that not even a single mortal can hear them all. “You, Penelope, are no exception.”
Relief and shock washed over her expression. She was right, and all those times, she had been protected by his watchful eyes. “Ares.”
Men use “I’m just a man” to cheat on their wives. Odysseus uses “I’m just a man” to kill, slay and torture people to get back to HIS wife. They are not the same.
a quick psa to anyone recently getting into greek mythology and is a victim of tumblr and/or tiktok misconceptions:
-there is no shame in being introduced to mytholgy from something like percy jackson, epic the musical or anything like that, but keep in mind that actual myths are going to be VERY different from modern retellings
-the myth of medusa you probably know (her being a victim of poseidon and being cursed by athena) isn't 100% accurate to GREEK mythology (look up ovid)
-there is no version of persephone's abduction in which persephone willingly stays with hades, that's a tumblr invention (look up homeric hymn to demeter)
-as much as i would like it, no, cerberus' name does not mean "spot" (probably a misunderstanding from this wikipedia article)
-zeus isn't the only god who does terrible things to women, your fav male god probably has done the same
-on that note, your fav greek hero has probably done some heinous shit as well
-gods are more complicated than simply being "god of [insert thing]", many titles overlap between gods and some may even change depending on where they were worshipped
-also, apollo and artemis being the gods of the sun and the moon isn't 100% accurate, their main aspects as deities originally were music and the hunt
-titans and gods aren't two wholly different concepts, titan is just the word used to decribe the generation of gods before the olympians
-hector isn't the villain some people make him out to be
-hephaestus WAS married to aphrodite. they divorced. yes, divorce was a thing in ancient greece. hephaestus' wife is aglaia
-ancient greek society didn't have the same concepts of sexuality that we have now, it's incorrect to describe virgin goddesses like artemis and athena as lesbians, BUT it's also not wholly accurate to describe them as aromantic/asexual, it's more complex than that
-you can never fully understand certain myths if you don't understand the societal context in which they were told
-myths have lots and lots of retellings, there isn't one singular "canon", but we can try to distinguish between older and newer versions and bewteen greek and roman versions
-most of what you know about sparta is probably incorrect
-reading/waching retellings is not a substitute to reading the original myths, read the iliad! read the odyssey! i know they may seem intimidating, but they're much more entertaining than you may think
greek mythology is so complex and interesting, don't go into it with preconcieved notions! try to be open to learn!
she may be queen of ithaca, but forever will she remain a daughter of sparta.
pov: third person.
word count: 1,070
note: im not a greek mythology enthusiast, but i do aspire to be one (ty epic the musical) so this is my best attempt of writing penelope as a character!
Penelope. Queen of Ithaca, mother of Telemachus, wife of Odysseus.
But above of all else, she was a daughter of Sparta.
The absence of her husband within the confinements of the palace that Odysseus had built from the ground, it was almost overbearing for the woman. Every night was a rest from trying to stay afloat in the acknowledgement that she can’t wake up to the presence of her husband in their wedding bed, the wedding bed that Odysseus had made around the olive tree of where they first met.
It was too much for Penelope to even muster a thought that there was no chance of seeing her loving husband ever again, even more so when she is forced to see the figures of her 108 suitors bantering in the wide halls of the palace. Anger stirred within the daughter of Sparta with every second she spared to glare at their faces, to which they reciprocated with a smug look. “Where’s your husband?” was what she mostly read from their faces, but Antinous, the biggest wolf of them all.
“Someday, Penelope.” He came up to the queen so casually, as if forgetting that she held the most influence out of everyone in the palace, out of everybody on Ithaca.
“I beg your pardon?” She remained still and calm, keeping her composure as she always does when confronted with them. Underneath her neutral facade was a woman boiling with anger, appalled by the audacity of these men lounging about in her grand palace with their worn-out rags and dirty slippers. Especially the man in front of her.
She hitched a breath at the sudden action of Antinous, his figure leaning forward towards her face as she forced herself back. Her feet remained in place, not backing down from his attempt at physical domination. From another perspective, despite their height difference, there was no glimpse of submission from Penelope, as expected by the daughter of Sparta.
She felt a presence. A divine, godly presence. Confusion struck her but didn’t let it crack her facade, though the thought remained at the back of her head. What was this? With the lack of vision due to Antinous attempt of intimidation, Penelope couldn’t find the answer to this presence. It felt like she was being watched; not because she was about to do something wrong, but rather a protecting eye over her.
“Someday, I’ll replace your dead husband’s mounted bow with my own sword, and erase any form of his existence the minute I sit down at his throne.” Her eyes narrowed at the bold statement, but never did Penelope waver. “And the best part?”
A strong hand gripped her hip, and she grunted at the sudden impact. Flashbacks from the suitors’ previous attempts of being physically closer to her erupted through her eyes, however blinking them away seemed to have given her some sight in the current situation. She tried to come back to reality, not focusing too much on his contact but rather winning this unspoken battle of domination.
The unknown presence came closer, as if over-towering Penelope from behind. That feared feeling was drowned by the sudden emotion of confidence, as if ready to hear what he has to say after.
“I get to put my mark on you and replace the ghostly feeling of your dead husband’s hand on yours, with mine.”
The presence seemed to have placed a hand on Penelope’s shoulder, and suddenly the flare on her eyes sparked. Blessed by this mental power, she used her strength to rip his hands away from his hips, dusted her dress from where it gripped, and straightened her posture once more. Instead of a composed look, Penelope’s eyes were replaced with a playful yet somewhat deadly glare, as if her eyes were tinted red to signify the blood shed she daydreams about her suitors.
Antinous wavered, the wolf in him suddenly shrunk into a pup, but he dared not to let that happen as he made himself physically bigger, an illusion to the eye, and pointed a finger at Penelope. No words came out of his mouth, only an anger-infused glare with the inability to come up with a retort. Penelope’s voice hasn’t mustered a single word, and yet, she had managed to bruise him.
“Someday.” Was all he said before returning to his friends, his arms stretching widely before cheering with them with a glass of wine at hand. Penelope took one last look at the loud men before walking back to the inner areas of the palace, away from their backhanded glares.
Once far enough, her knees stumbled as her gown sprawled against the marble flooring. The cold stung her bare legs, but it allowed her to properly come back to reality. What had just happened? This was a question she’s been asking herself over and over, because this wasn’t the first time she had felt that presence. Every time she was faced by one of her suitors, especially when coming in contact with her, the presence grew stronger and stronger.
The daughter of Sparta was strong, concealed underneath her seemingly frail figure. But in those moments, she felt as if she can take them out one by one.
“I can feel you.” She vocalised to the empty atmosphere. Looking around her, she expected someone to come out, someone divine, a god. “I know you are lurking.”
Upon standing up and fixing her dress, she felt a lowly cackle that echoed the long and wide space as she whipped herself to see from behind, only to be met with the suspecting god she assumed had been lurking. Wearing battle armour with stained old blood against the metal, the helmet that sat just right on his head, the large claymore that no mortal human can even lift from the ground; Penelope was familiar with this god.
“All daughters of Sparta are mine to protect.” His voice dominated the air around them, and his hands went to remove his helmet to which his long curly hair was revealed, scars occupied his face which tell many stories that not even a single mortal can hear them all. “You, Penelope, are no exception.”
Relief and shock washed over her expression. She was right, and all those times, she had been protected by his watchful eyes. “Ares.”
girrll ur making me fall in luv with embry call even more when ur oneshots ab him!!! hes actually such a lil kyootie but then again the entire wolf pack is hehe
could u perhaps please write about embry x reader and how embry would always pick reader up from school or work? it can be short n sweet but i jus luv embry
gosh yes he’s the sweetest 🥹 and oooh my gosh yesss yess here you go !! hope u enjoy love 🤍
Visions of what seemed like my future in another life came like a blur. I see my face, every part of my feature visible, but it seemed… off. It was me, but rather, another version of me if I were to still stay with Edward Cullen. A name that stayed in the past and within my locked memories, it seemed so long to have even read his name mentally.
I stand in front of a full-length mirror. In a room unbeknownst to me, I only made eye contact with myself, a reflection that sent shivers along my spine as I didn’t expect for my dark-brown eyes to be replaced with blood red. I see it clearly now. My features were vampiric. Sharp, analytic, ethereal.
Vision after vision played with a blur. It seemed like Bella as a vampire saw things in her perspective with more precision, as if she saw every thing down to its atom. My throat suddenly clenched within as I turned around and my body was in another place; a forest, it seems. Peeking over a stone ledge, I fought against a jaguar who was attempting to dominate me over my meal, a deer. Effortlessly, my arms wrapped around his furry neck before we slammed against the soil. It fought to take over, and I only felt myself smile in mock before my teeth sinked into its body.
I awaken with a startle and a quick shiver along my spine, the thin covers resting on my naked body not making it any better. My initial instinct was to jolt my eyes open from such a horrific dream, or nightmare, but the morning brightness was too much to bear as I squinted and raised my free hand to cover the rays. Slowly, I gained my senses back when I hear sizzling noises from downstairs of our honeymoon cabin, and my eyes searched for the alarm clock on the side table. 8:30am, it read.
I sigh in sweet thought. Only Jake would let me sleep in, no matter the occasion. Seeing our thrown clothes on the floor, or rather only mine, assuming that my husband was downstairs, I grabbed my own clothes. My index and thumb hung my panties in the air, questioning my choice in lace in attempt to seduce Jake resulted in a slight shiver as I threw it on our disheveled bed. I’ll deal with that later.
Quickly running down the stairs as I stretch into the sleeves of my shirt, I was greeted by the lovely sight of a familiar tan-skinned man working his way around the open kitchen. He was turned against me, but I can never get enough of the sight of his bare back, how I can see each curve of his muscle with no problem. I’m assuming his wolf hearing heard my footsteps as I see him turn his head to his shoulder.
“Mornin’ beautiful.” He greets with a husky voice, sleepiness still laced around his tone as he fully turned his body around to dump eggs and bacon on an empty plate next to his own which was already filled. He watches my figure as I make my way to the opposite side of the counter, his gaze low with a slight smirk. “Couldn’t find any pants?”
“Didn’t need too.”
He only scoffed lightly in response before pushing his own plate across the empty seat on my right before swiftly making his way next to me. I feel his warm hand on my furthest shoulder, pushing me closer to his bare torso before placing a gentle kiss at the side of my head. I only leaned into the kiss, always inviting his warmth.
We ate in comfortable silence with the only sounds occupying the atmosphere was our soft chewing. His left hand stretched over to the heading of my chair as he minded his own business, the same hand going to thread through my unbrushed hair a few times. It eased me, especially when the montages of my dream still played in my head. Seeing my red eyes through my reflection, peaking over the stone like I’m hunting for my prey, literally, and how I felt the jaguar’s blood seep into my throat-
“Okay, Bells. I know I’m not one to interrupt your inner morning monologues, because I have faced the wrath of your punches on multiple occasions.” That made me let out a soft chuckle, still chewing my food in the sides of my mouth as I gave him a quick glare. He only gazed at me lovingly, his left hand resting on the heading once more. “But I can’t help but wonder this monologue. Maybe it’s the imprint, or maybe I’m just that good of a Bella reader.”
Now that made me roll my eyes. We’ve spent, what, almost five years together? Not including the days we spent when we were kids? Of course he’s gonna learn my patterns and how I live, just like how I’ve learnt his; how his morning rituals tend to be stretching on the edge of his bed before rounding his shoulders in circles, or how he always leaves his favourite part of the meal last so he can truly savour it without other foods. I noticed that even now as he eats more eggs than bacon, making sure that he has at least one strip of bacon for last.
Still, his implied question remains unanswered, and his eyes will never leave my direction until I answer.
Twirling my fork around that I had stabbed a piece of bacon and egg on, I slowly gathered my words. “I had a dream. Or rather, a nightmare, now that I think about it.”
“You wanna’ tell me about it, honey?”
I only shot him a grateful look before staring back at my plate. “I saw myself as a vampire. You know, with the creepy red eyes and all.”
That made him inhale a sharp breath, the atmosphere between us now slightly tense. I didn’t like how the air changed. We already acknowledged that me and him were history, and we trusted each other on that fact. I guess he still had his doubts, despite intertwining our bodies and souls together, despite the imprint, despite our many declarations of love to one another.
“Hey.” I let go of my fork to lean my side against the heading of my chair, taking his stretched hand into my own. It was big enough for both of my hands to hold, but all that mattered to me was making sure that my words would get into that quite thick skull of his. “It was only just a dream, and I think we’ve made sure countless times that it is only me and you in our story. Got it?”
He only nodded firmly. “I know, I know honey. I guess I was more tensed at the idea of you becoming… that.”
That seemed to lift the mood up a bit as we both shared a soft laugh. I planted a quick kiss on the front of his hand before eating the bacon and egg stabbed through my fork. I made sure to munch carefully in order to digest as I waited for Jake’s words to occupy the atmosphere. “What did you dream about specifically?”
I let out a deep breath, still getting used to the mental image of Vampire Bella. “Red eyes through my reflection. Ethereal features, it was almost eery to see. I even felt the sensation of blood going down my throat.”
Jake made a noise that reflected his disgusted expression, and I only caressed the side of his face as I dropped my fork. “I know, babe. I’m weirded out too.”
“I’m glad you don’t get to experience that.”
I glance at him with a soft smile, “I’m glad too.”
We shot each other a soft smile before focusing on our meals, the comfortable silence filling between us once more. However, I could sense Jake’s brain cogs working as I slowly glanced his direction.
“How would you live as a vampire?”
I grin in surprise. Usually, the only thing vampire-related to come out of his mouth are degrading words or just a simple scowl at the mention of it. I’m sorta’ glad to see some character development on his part due to the wolf naturally reacting negatively to vampires; maybe its the morning-after the wedding effect. He sees my reaction before defending himself.
“I’m just wondering! Okay, yeah- I hate them heart and soul, don’t get me wrong.”
“Yeah, I get you babe. How would you live?” Then both of our brain cogs worked together. I reflect his furrowed eyebrows as I slowly chew in thought. “I mean, from the dream, you could see everything.”
“Like… every detail?”
“Yeah. It’s kinda’ trippy. I don’t really like that.”
“You’re a living corpse too, so wouldn’t you forget how to… I don’t know, blink?”
A sudden thought came across my mind, “You want me to ask a certain vampire?”
I was only met with his infamous glare before being smothered by his kisses.
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