Page 28 of Elysium
SAILING WAS SECOND NATURE TO ODYSSEUS. Even after the torments of the sea that had kept him from his wife, it was almost impossible not to fall back into old habits once he was out on the ocean.
This was different, though. His body reacted instinctively to the sways of the ship, to the gusts of wind. But his heart stayed trained on his wife. Penelope spent the first day of their journey seated with the trunks, hands wringing in her lap.
His arms ached to row, his muscles yearning for the strain of the oars and the ocean spray. But he could not leave her side. He spent his time rooted to the floorboards next to her.
When they docked for the night, she still seemed wary, watching from a distance as he pitched the tent for her. His men would sleep under the stars, and if his queen had stayed in Ithaca, he would have done the same.
In the quiet of the night, Odysseus turned over, extending his arm to pull his wife closer to him. He would never again take her place at his side for granted. Not in the courtroom, not on the throne, not in their bed.
His hand grabbed at empty furs, Penelope’s side of the tent covered with the chill of the ocean’s night. He sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The sound of the tide crashing against the shore, mixed with quiet hums of evening insects, was all he could hear.
Penelope wasn’t by his side.
Alarmed, he slung his dressings around him and burst from the tent, eyes rapidly scanning the area. The inky dark of night swallowed the beach, broken only by the steady snores of his men.
He steadied himself with several breaths. He was a hunter, a skill tracker, and he would find his wife. He made his way closer to the water before finding a faint set of footsteps, right where the tides met the sand. The knot in his chest loosened as he followed the path that she took.
He found her drowning in the moonlight; the stars covering every inch of her being, causing her skin to glow against the starkness of the ocean. She was kneeling in the sand, hands in fists at her side.
As he got closer, Odysseus could hear her ragged breaths. The crashing waves almost drowned out the sound of her quiet gasps. He stopped - she was not expecting him. She might not even want the comfort that his body yearned to offer her.
As he drew nearer, he heard her speak. “For twenty years, I waited for him. I waited through the silence, through the fear, through the looks in their eyes when they thought I couldn’t see.
And now, when I finally have him back, I feel like they’re watching again, waiting for me to break. Waiting for another chance.”
She released a sob from her chest, the sound almost bringing Odysseus to his knees. He could not keep himself from intruding on her solitude any longer. His heart would shatter into pieces if he wasn’t able to comfort her.
“I will pick up every piece of you, my love.” Odysseus whispered as he drew closer to where she sat. “Every time, I will put you back together.” He knelt down in the sand next to her, hand hovering in the space between them before falling limp at his side.
“Odysseus,” Penelope muttered, dragging the back of her hand across her cheeks. His steadfast queen was not one to let her emotions get the best of her, not like this. “I’m sorry.”
“A silly thing to say, really.” He countered softly, his voice quiet as the breeze. He adjusted, so he was sitting cross-legged beside her, facing the woman that carried his heart in the palm of her hands. “Let me share the burden with you, wife. What troubles you?”
Her breath came violently, hands trembling as she tried valiantly to calm herself.
Odysseus reached forward, taking her hands in his, anchoring her to the moment, to him.
“I am here, Penelope. Feel me.” He brought her hands to his lips, where he pressed a gentle kiss to each of her knuckles, desperate to ease the tremors that seized his wife. “You are safe. We are safe.”
She closed her eyes tight, the stream of tears refusing to lighten. “I can’t,” she hiccuped, shaking her head.
Odysseus’s chest tightened as he held her trembling hands in his.
In all their years together, through all their trials, he had never seen her like this, so utterly unguarded, so shaken.
She had always been his rock, even when he was at sea.
She was the unwavering anchor that kept Ithaca afloat in his absence.
To see her now, fractured, cracked under the weight of her pain, struck him harder than any blow he’d suffered at war.
“Yes, you can,” He replied, using her hands to tug her down to him. He released his grip on her, opting instead to enclose her in his embrace, holding her tightly against him.
Penelope clung to him, her fists balling the fabric of his tunic as if she might slip away into the darkness without an anchor.
She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled but relentless, shaking her smaller frame in his arms. Odysseus pressed his lips against her hair, his words moving in a whisper against her temple.
“Whatever it is, my love, I can carry it. You’ve carried enough. ”
Her voice cracked as she spoke, barely above the sound of the waves. “I wasn’t strong, Odysseus. I wanted to be… but I wasn’t. The suitors… those men… I let them…” her voice faltered, unable to say the words out loud.
But Odysseus knew .
He stiffened at her words, his arms tightening around her like a shield, his jaw clenched so tightly that he feared it might snap. “Penelope...” His voice was raw, thick with rage and sorrow. He willed himself to stay here, to calm the storm that was brewing inside of his heart.
“They… they…” Penelope’s voice cracked again, the words escaping her like fragments of glass, jagged and painful. She trembled against him, and he felt his own composure fray.
“You don’t have to say it,” he murmured, his voice a fragile thing in the quiet night. “I know. You survived them, Penelope. You survived, and you are here. And I will carry this weight, what they’ve done, for as long as I live.”
Penelope clung tighter to him, her face still hidden in his tunic.
He felt her exhale, the sound ragged and broken, and he pressed another kiss to her hair.
“By the gods, no men will touch you again,” he whispered, though the vow carried a darkness she would surely hear in his voice. “Not while I live and breathe.”
Her breathing settled as the minutes passed.
No sound, but her quiet lamentations could be heard against the waves.
But her grip on him did not loosen. She still trembled beneath his embrace, and the king swore he would personally see to it that these men were held accountable for their treason, for their disgrace of his wife and his kingdom.
Again.
“Odysseus…” her voice was small, almost lost to the breeze around them.
He cupped her face, forcing her to meet his eyes, brimming with tears. “No more, wife. No more. The gods themselves could not break you. No man could.”
Her lips quavered as she searched his face. He could see the fears clawing at her through her eyes. “You don’t think me broken, Odysseus?” The words left her mouth, raw and unguarded. She looked as if she wished she could take them back immediately, shame written across her features.
He froze, her words hitting him in the chest like an arrow to the heart.
He slid his hands to her shoulders, grounding her, holding her.
“Broken?” His voice was a hushed blend of awe and anguish.
“Penelope, you are the strongest person I have ever known. The gods would have shattered a lesser woman, but you…” he shook his head, his own tears falling free.
He couldn’t finish his statement. He prayed she knew.
“I have felt anything but strong,” she admitted, her voice still shook, but Odysseus could hear his wife coming back to him in her words.
“I have carried so much shame. I have doubted myself, feared for your son and his claim to your kingdom. I was worried-” a quiet sob stopped her from finishing her thought.
“You could never fail me, Penelope.” He said fiercely, pulling her into his arms once more. “You are fire and steel. You are home . And I am the man that will spend every remaining day of his life proving that I am worthy of you.”
They did not speak, not for their remainder of time on the beach. King and queen sat by the surf, tears falling freely as the past tried to catch up to them. But Odysseus made a vow to the dark. They would not spend their lives running from the past.
He would carry this weight for her, always. No matter the cost.