Page 13 of Elysium
SHE WAS PULLED FROM HER DREAM, from memories, with the rising of the sun. Little was said after the festival ended, Penelope opting to retire for the night. She didn’t wake when her husband came to bed, if he even did.
Now, Odysseus stood in the balcony window once more, a habit Penelope was still adjusting to after returning. They used to greet the day together, but twenty years away had changed them both.
The light of dawn highlighted the silver in his hair. This man who had once raced for her, claimed her with a kiss in front of her entire kingdom, now seemed carved from stone. She had fallen in love with a man who bent the world to his whim. But this man? This man was unraveling before her eyes.
“Do you remember the race?” She asked him, sitting up in bed.
She was grateful that the gods allowed such a memory to come to the forefront of her mind, pushing the rage and the grief from last night's conversations into the recesses of her mind.
“That day when you outran every eligible Greek warrior for my hand?”
He didn’t flinch when she spoke, which was progress enough for her. They were both wounded animals, hurt by different masters. Fear lingered beneath their skin like a splinter too deep to pull free.
He turned to her slowly, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that both comforted and unnerved her. There was something in his eyes now, something raw.
“Of course I remember,” He said finally, voice gravelly, “I remember your smile, the way you looked at me like I was the only man in the world. But I also remember the weight, Penelope. The weight of being the one to win your hand when so many others were willing to throw their lives into the fire.”
The sound of her name on his lips caused her to pause, like a thread, deeply woven inside of her, was pulling her back to the woman she was.
“But you won, Odysseus.” She said, patting the bed beside her.
“I only ever wanted you.” She was desperate for connection, for closeness.
Desperate to erase the previous night. “You won, and we were happy.” She watched him, a statue in the window. “We were so happy… and you left.”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
A heavy silence hung in the air between them.
Her breath hitched as she looked away, trying to steel herself, but Odysseus was kneeling in front of her in an instant, tilting her chin to look at him.
“I didn’t leave by choice, Penelope.” His voice was thick with something she couldn’t quite place.
“The gods took me from you. They took me away from Ithaca. Do you think I wanted to leave? I didn’t want any of it, wife, but I was powerless to them. ”
There was a vulnerability in his words that made her heart ache, a vulnerability that she hadn’t heard since he had come back into her life.
She’d always known he was a hero, a warrior, and a king.
He wore those labels with pride. But this man?
Kneeling before her while his eyes searched hers for understanding? She had never seen this man before.
“Why didn’t you come back?” Her voice cracked as she whispered the words. The weight of two decades of unasked and unanswered questions charged the air between them.
“I tried Penelope, gods, did I try.” He said, releasing his gentle hold on her chin and moving to sit next to her.
His eyes were fixed on the window, searching the horizon for an answer, seeking the words he had long buried.
“But the gods… they have their own plans, their own agendas. And…” his voice trailed off, eyes glossing over.
She was losing him.
“I dreamt of you, you know.” She said, desperate to keep him here, safe in Ithaca, with her. Odysseus was slipping away, back to the war, back to his journeys. “Even when I tried to stop, you would come to me in my dreams. It was like a part of you was always with me.”
He turned back to look at her, and there was something undeniably vulnerable in his eyes. Something that made her feel as though he could see everything she was hiding beneath the surface, every scar that she bore from their time apart.
“I’m here now,” He said, bringing his thumb to brush her cheek. Brush away the tears that had spilled. His touch was gentle, as if he was afraid she might disappear if his touch was too firm, too much.
“I don’t want to lose you again.” She whispered through the thickness in her throat, through the tears she had been holding back.
“I can’t lose you again.” And then, without a thought, she surged forward, burying herself in him, clinging as if he were the last breath of warmth in a winter that would never end.
They were both so cautious around each other, tiptoeing around the other one's wounds and trauma.
But she needed him, needed to feel his warmth, his heat, his arms. She needed to feel that he was real.
He had always melted her stoicism with his gaze alone.
There was no need for walls of strength when they were together.
“You won’t,” He whispered into her hair, clutching her against him. “Nothing will take me from you again.” He said, solemn as a vow, a promise to her and to the gods.
“Tell me something real, Odysseus. Share your burden with me. Let me carry it for you.” She whispered into the curve of his neck, her fingers twitching against his skin.
He exhaled, the sound as heavy as the sea. “I’ll tell you,” he whispered. “There are some burdens that will never grow lighter, even when shared.” He pulled back from their embrace, meeting her gaze. “But before I share these trials with you, wife, there are things I have been keeping from you.”
She would be lying if she said her heart didn’t stumble at his words.
Penelope knew they hadn’t been completely transparent about the last twenty years, opting for omission instead of truth.
But she had always assumed it was because it would be too hard for her husband to share, not for her to hear.
“I am known for my clever tongue and quick wit,” He started, fumbling over his words.
“But I have never wanted more to be swallowed up by these truths, to make them disappear. I… I don’t know how to share this with you, Penelope.
” He was no longer meeting her gaze, the air around them thickening, suffocating her.
“Please, say what is troubling you. I can’t sit here in the unknown, Odysseus.” She replied, laying her hand on his knee. He shifted under her touch, causing a panic to rise from her stomach.
“For years, I have built cities of lies to survive. Crafted words as both weapons and defense, as easily as one would craft a spear. But this…” He released a long breath.
“There are no honeyed words that could soften this blow, Penelope.” He looked at her again, and in that moment, he didn’t need to speak the words - she knew.
For twenty years, she had been faithful to the man that she carried in her heart.
A man of oaths and promises. A man of sunlight and adoration.
She had steeled herself for tales of monsters, of divine retribution and loss.
Not this. “Odysseus,” she whispered, her voice betraying her as she felt her eyes burn once more.
She pulled away from him, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her heart. Their room felt so small, as if the walls threatened to collapse on her, too. She had waited, endured, and prayed for this man. The pains she had suffered were immeasurable.
She felt his eyes on her, tracking her movements through the room. In the silence, she felt every mile of sea between them, and she was drowning in it. She could feel the words he wanted to say, palpable in the tense air between them, but they did not come.
“I held you in my heart for nearly twenty years,” Penelope whispered, her voice trembling.
She didn’t look at him. She could not. “While suitors sat in this hall, broke down that door, and tore apart every piece that was left of me, of us. But my heart never strayed. Do you know what it’s like to wait in silence? ”
Her voice was stronger now, despite the tear tracks that marked her cheeks. “And now… now you tell me -” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring herself to utter the words, as if speaking it out loud would shatter her completely.
“I did not forget you.” His response came after an eternity of silence.
“Even when I was trapped, bound, forced… even when my body betrayed me, I held you in my soul. You were my compass.” His voice cracked, raw, without guile.
“But I failed you, Penelope. I failed the man you loved. Every oath I made to you, I have broken.”
“Odysseus,” she called to him, finally turning to face him.
“Look at me.” She said, fingers curling into the shift dress she wore.
She steadied herself, solid as stone. “I built this kingdom with my hands, kept our son safe, and kept our hearth burning.” Her voice was stronger as she reminded herself that she was not a woman that sat and waited for his return.
She was a queen. “I did all of that without you. I did not need you, Odysseus.”
He flinched at her words. “But — I still want you, husband.” She softened her voice, if only slightly. “You want me to understand? You want to mend this? Tell me why.” She wavered, her shaky breath betraying her composure. wholly unsure if she truly could handle what she asked for.
“Explain to me how you let the gods and their daughters steal the man I have woven my entire life around.”