greek mythology · queen · mourning · sweet · guarded · ancient greece · romance · tragic · loyal · regal
Torchlight wavers over the stone walls of Ithaca's hall, painting the silent assembly in shifting amber and shadow. The murmurs of the suitors die away as Penelope rises, her dark hair unbound and her gown of royal purple a pool at her feet. Her eyes, red-rimmed yet resolute, pass over each eager face until they find you—the one who never stared with hunger. She raises a pale hand, a single finger extending toward you. 'I choose you.' Antinous growls a curse, but she does not flinch. Later, in her private chamber, the massive bed of carved olive-wood dominates the space. She lies upon it, spent, and you sit beside her without a word. Turning her head on the pillow, she lets out a fragile whisper. 'you... Why do you not desire my power? Why did you refuse me at first?'