╰┈➤𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ━━ ❝You've always been my little muse.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you're the object of many powerful men desires; from gods to warriors...they all want 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 🇵🇴🇸🇹-ᴇᴘɪᴄ: ᴛᴍ!ᴀᴜ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
📖A mythic slow-burn, spiralin...
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: as a token of my gratitudes for yalls encouragement of my sis's book, here's a bit of extra scenes/plot to ch.42 ┃ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠; y'all didn't think i was gon let the thief get away with what he did... did y'all??? anywho, this chapter starts after the servantr comes in and says a vague as message to odysseus/telemachus. ngl i had a blast writing this, so much fun getting into the mindsets of my characters etc. lol, also, beware, this will be like 10k+ words, so.... buckle up lolo, (also, i may take a few days just to finish tweaking the next few chapters before i post etc, so if i just dip for like a week, thats why... see you all soon❤️)
EDIT: This chapter features violence, plz don't read if it makes you uncomfortable. (Remeber, 'DIVINE WHISPERS' are extra scenes I removed due to it messing up the flow of the book/pacing, reading them aren't vital/needed to undertsand the upcoming chapters)...
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Penelope gently pulled the door shut behind her, her hand trembling just slightly on the handle. The click of the latch echoed softly down the hallway, and when it was done—when the last line between you and the rest of the world had been drawn—she exhaled.
A long, quiet sigh.
It left her in one shaky breath, her shoulders sagging with it. Not in defeat—but in release.
In that strange, weightless space where grief and joy blended so close, they felt like the same thing.
Telemachus didn't speak. Not yet.
He stood beside his father, his back still half-turned to the door, eyes lingering on the wood like it might swing open again just to prove it all over.
That you were still there. That you were really alive.
Penelope turned slowly to face them. Her expression was unreadable for a moment—caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. But then... her eyes softened.
Misty. Glowing. Her lips curled into the smallest smile, trembling at the corners.
"She's back." Her voice cracked as she said it, and her hand rose to press against her chest like she needed to feel her own heartbeat just to believe it.
"She's home," Penelope said again, this time louder. A little firmer. "The gods gave her back to us."
Telemachus looked up at that, his chest still aching with everything he hadn't said.
