Page 16 of Elysium
THE SUN SHONE OVER THE OLIVE TREES, creating a gentle halo of light throughout her grove. Penelope found much solace in these trees over the past decade, the bark scarred with memories of a young king and queen falling in love with each other over and over again.
It had become a routine of hers. On the days she held court, she would rise with the sun and take her breakfast amongst the olive grove. Enjoy the peace that nature offered, and allow herself to feel sad, if only for a moment.
Penelope heard the rustling of leaves around her and turned to look. No one followed her out here, ever. She dismissed the sound as a rodent searching for a snack and continued her walk.
It was then that a figure emerged from the shadows in front of her.
She gasped, fingers curling into fists before she realized who stood in front of her.
The sight of Odysseus casually leaning up against a tree, arms crossed, made her stomach flip in a way she didn’t want to name.
“You,” she practically hissed, pressing a hand to her chest to tame her rapid heartbeat. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Surprising my wife, apparently.” He said, taking a step towards her. “Still faster than a suitor, even twice their age.”
Her brow furrowed, all playfulness leaching out of her.
“That was poorly spoken,” Odysseus replied almost immediately. The humor drained from his voice. “Penelope, please forgive-”
“You’re a fool.” She cut him off, her voice tight, but not unkind.
“I am your fool,” he admitted, his smile returning to his features, gentler now. “And I am learning.”
Penelope narrowed her eyes, watching her husband kneel and pluck an olive from the ground.
He froze for a moment, inspecting the olive carefully in his hand, as if holding a precious jewel.
“I’ve learned,” he mused, “olives are patient. Years to grow, seasons to ripen, but a few careless words and they’re ruined. ”
She quirked a brow, unimpressed.
Odysseus stood, straightening as he tossed the olive up into the air, snatching it deftly with his palm.
“But, with patience, comes rewards. Good things come to those who are willing to-” He popped the olive into his mouth, face immediately turning into a grimace.
“By the gods, that is revolting!” He spluttered, spitting it out onto the ground.
“Why do we grow these?” He asked, expression still sour.
Penelope’s lips twitched, but she held them firmly together. Odysseus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, expression turning into a wide smile. “A lesson, my queen. Never trust an olive straight from the tree.”
She fought back a smile, eyes rolling gently. “Serves you right. Foolish King.”
He bowed deeply in front of her, one hand on his heart as he watched her, eyes twinkling. “A fool for you.”
Finally, before she could stop herself, the laugh escaped her.
It was brief, restrained. But it was also light and freeing.
Odysseus beamed, his face shining with triumph like a boy who’d stolen a prize.
“You’re insufferable.” She said, no longer trying to hide the smile that threatened the corners of her mouth.
“Ah, but I’ve made you laugh.” His pride was as radiant as the sun. “I have waited years to hear your laughter, Penelope.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Penelope quipped, walking past him, hiding a smile. She settled herself on a rock, her rock. The rough surface was worn with age and time, but a comfort to her, nonetheless.
He followed quietly in her footsteps, taking his place next to her.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied, gently bumping his shoulder into hers.
Her skin brushed his for a heartbeat longer than anticipated, a memory of warmth where distance had grown.
A spark of longing — for the moments once shared coursed through her veins.
The two sat in a companionable silence for a long while, time passing with the breeze. She could feel him, achingly close to her, yet not touching. Never touching. She wanted to turn back time and be the young queen he fell in love with, be the wife he deserved.
“We’re going to be okay,” Odysseus said softly, reading her mind. Penelope turned to look at him, finding his gaze trained on the sea, towards the docks of Ithaca that could be seen from her spot.
“How can you be so confident?” She asked, her voice quiet, attempting to tamp down the emotions that threatened to push their way out.
“Now,” He turned to her, a soft smile gracing his lips as he took her hands in his. His hand dwarfed hers, his skin electrifying to the touch. “Have you forgotten the man you fell in love with? I am nothing if not overconfident.”
His confidence was unshaken, but she couldn’t summon a smile, not yet. Penelope took a deep breath. Blinking back tears. After taming her heartbeat, she scoffed. He squeezed her hands gently, “I’m serious, Ody.” She didn’t miss the way his face lit up at the use of the nickname.
“So am I,” he replied softly, mirth absent in his tone.
“I know there are many bridges that need mending. We are not the same people we were when we made love in this olive grove all those years ago.” Her cheeks flushed red at the memory, avoiding his teasing gaze.
“But, you are Penelope of Ithaca. I followed you here. I will follow you anywhere.”
Penelope shifted, resting her head on the shoulder of the man next to her. His fingers twitched against hers with the familiar touch. She could almost hear the grin return to his lips. “Then follow me to the assembly, King of Ithaca. Your people have been waiting for you.”