Here it is folks the five (5)-and-a-half page Odyssey fanfiction that I turned in to my English teacher my freshman year of high school
Hope you enjoy
Penelope stared at the two women. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard you,” she said. “Will you repeat yourself?”
“Of course. As I’ve said, both Lady Calypso and I met Odysseus on his voyage to Ithaca. He just so happened to be stranded with both of us for a time with no way off, so he decided to, well… enjoy our company until he found it in himself to leave,” the woman with curls repeated.
“And it took quite some time, too,” snickered the other.
“Please, my lady, let me speak,” Penelope said quietly. She turned to Odysseus, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What did you suffer that made you so lonely that you had to leave me for two women?”
“Actually, didn’t you say something about women in Troy?” the second woman interrupted. Penelope turned in her throne to face her.
“Women in Troy?” she asked.
The woman nodded. “Didn’t he tell you? He needed someone to warm his bed when he was away.”
The one with the curls laughed, filling the empty courtyard. “It turns out that ‘someone’ was a bunch of enslaved women.”
Penelope didn’t respond. How could this have happened? She’d been nothing but good to Odysseus even when he was away. She’d dealt with the suitors, raised Telemachus with no complaint. Why would he treat her like this?
She beckoned at a servant in the corner. “Aetha, would you be so kind as to show these women to a chamber and bring some wine and cheese to tide them over until dinner? I’d like to speak with Odysseus in private.”
“Of course, my lady.” The two women looked at Penelope, glanced at each other, then followed the servant out the door.
Odysseus, who had been unnaturally silent, now spoke up. “Penelope, listen to me-”
“No!” she shouted. “Why, Odysseus? Was it something I did? Something I said? Or did you just get tired of me? Did you only come back because of your riches and your son and to revel in your victory against Troy? Were the women you enslaved victorious enough? Were you-”
“SILENCE!” Odysseus rose from his chair and stalked toward Penelope, eyes ablaze. “I will not be commanded or doubted in my own home, much less my own kingdom, much less by my own wife, who claims that I am unloyal with no proof!” He shoved her against a nearby pillar, grabbing her shoulders. “Do you understand me?”
Penelope only stood there, trembling. His grip on her shoulders hurt. She didn’t think she could feel anything in that moment other than white hot pain. Slowly, she mustered out a nod.
“Good.” Odysseus turned away, leaning on Penelope’s chair. “Haven’t I suffered enough, dear gods? Why must this woman doubt my loyalty to her, after all I’ve done in your favor?”
Penelope slid down the pillar. Her breathing was ragged. Odysseus had never done this before. Not her kind, noble Odysseus. Although he wasn’t even that, was he? She gripped the folds of her dress tightly.
“I’ll… I’ll go check on dinner,” she said. Then, silent as a mouse, she snuck out of the courtyard.
***
The palace was normally alight with music after its dinners. Any local who happened to live close to the palace would tell you about the songs and shouting that went on hours into the night. But not tonight. Tonight, Penelope had heard, Odysseus would be eating and sleeping in his chambers alone. No one was to disturb him, not even his own son.
“It’s best you leave him alone,” Eurycleia had told her. “Something’s got him in a fury worse than the gods can muster.” Oh, gods, Penelope had thought. Is this because of me?
And now, here she was, staring out the balcony in her own private room, with the moonlight as her only company. It’s ironic, really. She would come here at this time of day to seek solace from her suitors, come to end her waiting for Odysseus, and now she was hiding away from her feelings of pain, of grief, of anger.
How could he have done this? she asked herself again. It wasn’t fair. Twenty years she’d spent in loneliness, waiting and waiting with no way of knowing if he was safe, running a kingdom of thousands on nothing but a well-wish and half a prayer. And now here was the payback- two women, an angry husband, and a broken heart.
Unloyal with no proof. The women themselves say otherwise.
Wait a minute…
Without a second thought, Penelope shot up from the window and ran towards the bedrooms.
***
The door opened to reveal the curly-haired woman wearing a white sleeping gown.
“It’s you,” she said. Penelope squared her shoulders.
“Yes.”
The woman looked at her strangely. “Well, what are you standing there for? Come in!”
As if spellbound, Penelope found herself walking into the lofty chamber and sitting at the foot of one of the beds. The other woman lounged on a nearby couch, holding a glass of wine.
“So, dearest Penelope, what brings you here?” she questioned.
It was as if the answer lifted itself off of her tongue. “I want to know if you had any children with Odysseus.”
She clamped her hands over her mouth. How…
The women chuckled. “And why do you want to know this?” the woman with the wineglass asked.
Penelope’s hands rose off her mouth. “I…” No. If she was going to tell these women anything, it would be her own decision.
“At the moment, it will be none of your concern.” Her refusal must have been more shocking than she thought, because the two women looked at each other, stupefied.
“How… how were you able to do that?” asked the curly-haired one.
“What, break the rules of hosting? Simple. I am angry.”
The woman shook her head. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“Other than one of Odysseus’ mistresses?” Penelope replied.
“Ha-ha. In the lands of the gods, I am known as Circe, my friend, Calypso. We are known for our magic, our potions, our beauty-”
“Your ability to steal my husband?” muttered Penelope.
Circe rolled her eyes. “My point is that few mortals are immune to our spells. Few except Odysseus, and now, you.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“No, there’s some other person in this room we could be referring to,” Calypso deadpanned, sloshing her wine around. “What she means to say is that you are powerful, Penelope. Not only did you realize we were hypnotizing you, you broke free of a hypnotization! And surely if you could resist one, who knows? Perhaps you could cast an enchantment yourself,” Calypso thought to herself, then laughed. “I haven’t seen this much power in a mortal since Psyche!”
“Ah, Psyche,” began Circe. “She was a lovely one, wasn’t she? A shame she married Eros. She would have been a fine witch.” Something changed in her posture. “To answer your question, yes, Odysseus did sire a child in each of us. A son for me and a daughter for Calypso.”
The sting hurt, but she shoved it aside. “What else did he do with you?” she asked, a little eagerly.
Calypso laughed nervously. “Whoa, there, getting a little personal, don’t you think?”
Penelope almost started to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. She sighed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. But all I needed is some sort of confirmation- some proof, but I suppose you can’t bring your children here and I won’t ask you to recount your-erm, experiences in front of an audience. Very well. Thank you, my ladies, for your time.” Penelope got up and smoothed out her dress. But before she could open the door, a hand grabbed her wrist.
“There is another way,” Circe said.
***
Dawn rose through the branches of the olive tree as Penelope waited the next morning, a slave woman waiting not too far away. She idly played with a fallen leaf.
Eurycleia had said that Odysseus would be here by seven. It was half past eight. Well, it was worth a try.
A cry in the distance stopped her from leaving. “Wife,” shouted Odysseus, climbing the hill to their bed.
“Husband,” she answered. The two stood there, neither blinking nor making a move. Finally, Penelope spoke. “Sit, will you?”
“You’re in no position to make demands,” he grumbled, but sat anyway. Then: “Why did you summon me? Is it another ploy to tell me how I am unloyal?” Penelope went to interrupt, but he continued.
“You do realize these women are witches? Women you’re warned to stay away from as a child? And yet was it not you who let their ships into our harbor? Was it not you who granted them shelter for the night? These women have been casting spells on you,” Odysseus concluded. He chuckled to himself. “Of course it would be a spell! There’s no way you would ever question my loyalty. You’re so patient and true, dearest Penelope. You would never doubt your own family.” Even though his words were kind, Penelope could still hear the hard edge laced through, like venom in a seemingly harmless snake. Or in the aftertaste of a potion.
Penelope played along and laughed with him. “You’re right, dearest Odysseus, it must be some sort of enchantment they’ve placed on me to lure me away from you and Telemachus, from sweet Ithaca. How could I have ever doubted you?” She fell to the ground, grasping his knees. “Please, oh powerful Odysseus, forgive me! I shall forget this incident and send a slave woman to the guest chamber where the women reside. She’ll tell them to pack their things, for a ship will be made ready- a small thing, yet luxurious enough to trick them into thinking they’re headed for home. Then, we’ll pray to Zeus, father of the heavens and Lord of the Skies, to send them to the island of Laestrygonians, where they shall be punished for the pain they have caused you! Please, my husband, find it within yourself to forgive me and carry out this plan!”
Odysseus remained silent for so long Penelope almost doubted if he was alive. Then, he smiled graciously and hauled her up by the arms. “Of course, dearest Penelope. Why would I ever doubt you?” He gestured towards the nearby grove, where the slave woman was standing. “Bring us some wine.” The bait was taken.
The woman came over with a wine kit and two glasses and began to prepare the wine.
“Why is she taking so long?” Odysseus complained. “Hurry up, will you?”
The slave woman bowed her head. “Yes, my king.” She poured the now ready wine into the cups and handed one to Odysseus, the other to Penelope. Or at least, that was what she tried to do before she spilled the wine all over the bedsheets. She bent over in a bow.
“Apologies, my lady. I’ll make you a new batch and clean up this mess.”
Penelope gave her a meaningful look. “Do not worry. Wine can be remade.”
The woman quickly made a new batch and handed the glass to Penelope.
“Would you like to toast?” Odysseus asked. Penelope nodded.
“A toast to new beginnings,” she said, “and to truthful vows.” They clinked their glasses together. Penelope took a small sip, but Odysseus hesitated.
“What’s the matter, my love?” she asked nervously. “Is the wine not to your liking?”
“No, my dearest. Something simply smells off.” He sniffed the wine. “Poison.”
“A-are you sure? Perhaps it is simply the grapes?”
Odysseus set the cup down. “No. This is a poison of truth.” He turned sharply on Penelope. “Someone thinks me unloyal.” Penelope sank to her knees once more.
“No, I swear it!” she begged. “It was never my intention to harm you!” Her cries had no effect.
“If you have so little trust in me that you would think to poison me, then maybe I should teach you a lesson!” Odysseus raised the wine cup over his head. Penelope braced herself for a shatter, but it never came. She looked up to see Circe, who had dropped her disguise as the slave woman and begun to grapple with Odysseus.
“Leave her alone!” But it was to no avail. Within a moment, Circe had been flung against the tree and dropped on the ground, unconscious.
“No!” Before Penelope could stop her, Calypso darted out of her hiding place in the forest, dagger in hand. She began to chant a spell, but Odysseus slammed a hand into the side of her face and she fell to the floor.
“I sail for ten years to get home to you, and this is what I get?!” Penelope backed up against the tree, closer to the other women. What could she use to protect herself? She could use the dagger? No, he would disarm her in an instant. If she could somehow distract him…
A plan formed itself in Penelope’s mind.
“Odysseus, I had no involvement in this,” she said, creeping closer to the bodies of Circe and Calypso. “Please believe me.”
“And why should I, after all you’ve done?” Penelope ignored his words, instead focusing on the pain Odysseus had caused her. Anger roiled through her veins, but she held it down.
“Because I’m your wife,” she said. “Husbands and wives believe each other, do they not?” Something changed in Odysseus’ eyes. Penelope kept going.
“Odysseus, I’ve waited for you for twenty years. Why would you ever doubt me?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Because… because...”
Penelope grappled for the dagger. “Really, Odysseus? You’re known as one of the wisest men alive. Wouldn’t you have better judgement than this?”
“I… I would.” Penelope’s fingers closed around the hilt. She stood up and crept closer.
“Now, answer my question: did you love Circe and Calypso?”
The answer came out strangled, forced. “...yes.”
That’s odd. Penelope would have expected to feel the anger to rise at his truth. Instead, all she could feel was remorse. This was his fault, and he would have to face the consequences.
“Then I’m sorry,” she said, and stabbed the blade into his heart.
One year later
Penelope stood at the balcony, looking out to the mountains of Aeaea. With the sun setting above the forest surrounding them and the sea in the background, it almost reminded her of Ithaca. Well, the amount of pigs remained the same.
After she killed Odysseus, Penelope had fled to Aeaea with Circe and Calypso, leaving Ithaca in the hands of Telemachus. From word on the sea, it was now smaller, a simple trading town, its might and glory gone. But that was okay. Eurycleia had said in her letters that Telemachus was happier this way.
Happiness. Was that what Penelope felt, living on the island with Circe and Calypso, training their children and any other young woman who happened to be stranded on their shores how to use magic? Not that Penelope hadn’t benefited from the lessons. Now, if she tried, she could cast minor enchantments on animals. She’d vowed never to use that power, though. No use in harming living things that didn’t deserve it.
There was still no explanation for her powers. Circe had left it to being a favor of the gods as a reward for being loyal to Odysseus.
“Doesn’t explain why you still have it, though,” she’d mused. “Maybe they let you keep it out of pity.”
In the year she’d been here, Penelope had put good use to her weaving talents. The halls were now covered in tapestries depicting scenes of magic, the sea, and the gods themselves. Every other day, she would teach the children, who she considered her own, how to weave their own stories. Little by little, their artwork also lined the walls.
She, Circe and Calypso started going on walks in the mornings, exploring the forests and gathering ingredients for potions or ointments. Once, Penelope had found flowers and the latter two had spent the rest of the day covering themselves with them. They’d gotten a horrible rash later and it took Penelope a week to learn the recipe for the proper cream to heal them. Though they laughed about it now, it was probably the most stressful situation Penelope had been in in months.
And at the end of every week, the three of them would go up to the balcony in their room for a party. Sometimes they invited the children, sometimes they didn’t. Nevertheless, it was always fun.
Now, there she was, staring at the sunset in a gown Odysseus would have considered scandalous, drinking wine and laughing her heart out. The children played in the fountain below, small splashes rising up to the balcony’s level every so often.
“Penelope? Is everything alright?” Calypso asked from a bench nearby.
“Is it the wine?” Circe added. “Are you feeling sick?”
Penelope turned around, looking at the two women who had changed her life. Is everything alright? she asked herself. Odysseus was gone. Her kingdom was smaller. Her son was king, but not in the way that she’d planned. But it was for the best. For the first time in her life, Penelope was living her life in the way she wanted to, without the rules of marriage being imposed on her or being held to a standard. For the first time in her life, she was free.
A smile rose on her face. “Yes, it is.”