Page 38 of Elysium

HE WASN’T HIDING HER, wasn’t keeping her a secret from his courts and his people.

He was selfish.

The minute he crowned her, wed her, presented her before the Ithacan people, she would be swept away by them. She had so much to offer to their island, she would be instantly and utterly revered.

He wasn’t avoiding the crown, and he certainly wasn’t afraid of the backlash from recklessly choosing, and perhaps kidnapping, a queen. He just didn’t want to share her. He wanted to keep her locked away in his bedroom forever, their little slice of secret.

A place they were untouchable.

Invincible.

Penelope slept soundly, curled against his side. Her dark hair splayed out around her, cheek pressed against his chest. As the sunlight filtered through the window of the old palace, the subtle redness in her hair seemed to glow.

Even asleep, she was an ember, the spark that set his entire being alight.

Odysseus had been avoiding many of his duties.

He would not admit to anything different.

They had only returned from Sparta a few days prior.

After convincing the men on the docks to stay quiet about the woman he snuck into the castle; he had feigned sickness from the Spartan food, and holed up with the wild, intoxicating woman he brought back.

“You’re staring,” she murmured with a yawn, snuggling closer to him.

“Where else am I supposed to look when I have a goddess asleep in my bed? Her head on my chest, her legs tangled in sheets?” He mused, drawing lazy circles on her arm.

“What sort of king lounges around in bed all day with strange women he just met?” She asked, propping herself up on her hand. She turned, meeting his gaze with a wicked grin.

“The kind that fell in love at first sight, Princess.” He responded softly, running a finger down the bridge of her nose, memorizing every plane, every line on her body.

The flush that spread across her cheeks was divine, Odysseus thanked the gods for allowing their paths to cross, for allowing fate to fall in line like this - for her.

“I have a proposition for you, Princess,” he said with a smirk, curling a piece of her hair around his finger. She was mesmerizing. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Her hair, her skin, her lips. He was constructed for her, for this very moment in time.

“And what is that, King?”

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question, it was never a question. This woman was the only person on this planet that was meant for him. He would never find another soul so perfectly aligned to his own.

“Point me in the right direction and I’ll start preparations today.” She responded immediately, not a moment of hesitation.

“No,” he said, twisting his hand in her hair. “No preparations. No party. No grand events. Just you. Just me.”

“How do you propose that?” She was smiling, a grin stretching from ear to ear. Gods, he would capture the sun if that’s what she asked of him.

“Tonight. We’ll steal away-”

“You’re not going to keep me a secret now, are you, highness?” She interrupted him, eyes sparkling.

“Hush, woman,” Odysseus laughed, lightly placing a finger over her lips. “I know a place we can go.” He sunk down into the mattress, face to face. “A place no one goes. No one will follow.”

Her fingers grazed the stubble of his beard. “I have one condition, King.” She whispered, lips just barely grazing his as she drew nearer to him.

“Anything for you, my queen.” He tilted his head, and she backed up, denying his kiss, his touch. Odysseus narrowed his eyes in mock indigence, growling low in his throat.

“This is it, Odysseus,” she whispered, eyes locked on his, fingers curling around his jaw. “I can’t… I can’t be one of those wives, those queens who turn the other way when their husband takes another.”

“Penelope,” he breathed, his voice low. Grasping her by the shoulders, he pivoted them, hovering over her. She gasped, clutching onto his forearms.

“Promise me, darling.” She murmured, running her hands up his arms to clasp the back of his neck. His heart hammered in his chest as he lowered himself to his elbows.

He pressed his lips to her neck, her jaw, her cheek. “I swear on everything I am, Penelope. There will never be another. My soul sings a song for yours alone.”

He felt her grip relax, the tension in her muscles washing away with his promise. His lips found hers. “If you were the sun, my heart, I would gladly risk melting just to bask in your warmth.” His words were barely a whisper, lips brushing as he uttered the promise into the room around them.

She sighed against his lips, and for a moment, the world outside their bed did not exist. He could stay like this, wrapped in her warmth, suspended in the quiet space where only they existed.

But the day called for him. His absence could not stretch forever, no matter how much he ached to ignore the world outside their door.

Reluctantly, he had pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before slipping from their bed, leaving Eurycleia to tend to her. He trusted no one more and had full confidence that the nursemaid would supply his betrothed’s needs while staying inconspicuous.

The day had been a test of his patience, stretching on like a cruel trial set by the gods. He had gone through the motions… spoken where he was expected to, nodded where required. But his mind had not left her for a single breath.

And now, at last, the sun had fallen.

Odysseus stood at the door, hands restless at his sides, heart hammering like a boy seeing his first battle. But this was not war. This was something far more dangerous. Far more precious.

The door creaked open. And there she was.

Penelope had her back to the door, pinning hair back into her twisted plaits. His heart stopped as she turned to meet his eyes.

A golden crown of leaves stood out against her wine dark hair. “Odysseus,” she breathed life into the silence that surrounded them. “You’re staring.”

He couldn’t answer. His tongue had dissolved into dust in his mouth as he looked upon the goddess before him. Her dress reached the floor, cascading down her frame.

“Come,” he croaked, extending a hand out to her.

She stepped forward, the remaining sun’s rays hovered just for her, dust particles floating around, framing her as the center of his world.

As she slid her hand into his, intertwining their fingers, he felt a jolt, the gods themselves solidifying her place by his side.

Once again, they stole away under the cover of the rising moon. They made it out of the palace without being noticed, and into the groves of wild trees just outside of the palace.

Once they passed the tree-line, he tugged on her hand, pulling her close. He guided them backwards, pressing her back into a tree. A breathless laugh escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, never hesitating. “Is this your place, King?” She asked, impatient, eyes searching his.

“No,” he replied quickly, his mouth descending upon hers with a fury. He was careful with his hands, careful not to desecrate a single inch of her. He cupped her face, reveling in the way she gasped against his lips, the way her fingers threaded into his hair.

She arched against him, causing a grin to unfold across his lips. He withdrew from her, only slightly. “I missed you.” He whispered.

“I-” She swallowed, avoiding his gaze as her voice faltered slightly. “I was always here.”

His hands trembled against her face. He could not wait a moment longer. “Hurry,” he said, ghosting his lips across hers quickly before untangling from her. “We aren’t far.”

He guided her through the forest as they wove through the trees, his feet sure on the darkened earth. And then…

There.

At one time, he had dreams of building a home for himself, for his family.

Dreams of moving out of his father’s palace, and into one that he had built with his own hands.

For years he had worked on the plans, the construction, the builds.

But after years of loneliness and ruling alone, the idea seemed less and less important to him, less achievable.

A lone olive tree stood in the wash of a half completed home, far from the olive groves that fed Ithaca. It was not meant to be here, yet it had taken root, had grown strong in defiance of the world around it. Grown up in the middle of the palace he had envisioned so long ago.

Odysseus had grown to love this tree.

And now, beneath its shelter, with the only soul he had ever truly belonged to, he knew.

He had been waiting for her.

He stopped, grasping both her hands in his as they stood under the branches. “Here,” he uttered, lost in her eyes.

Without hesitation, he dropped to a knee, gazing up into her golden eyes. The shape of her mouth as she gasped, the way her eyes crinkled with her gentle smile. Everything about her made his heart pound in his chest.

“Penelope,” he started, though his breath trembled with the weight of this moment. “Since the instant I saw you on that dais, standing amidst gods and kings, I knew that my heart would only know agony unless I was yours.

“Beauty was never something I had aspired for in a wife, in a partner.” He grinned as a scowl overtook her features, “But you, my queen, put even Aphr-”

“Odysseus!” Penelope cut him off, clutching his hands in hers.

He grinned up at her. “She should know.”

She rolled her eyes, gently trying to tug him up to stand with her, but he refused to be moved. “Penelope, future queen of Ithaca, today, I promise you my heart, my life, my kingdom. There will be no me if there is no you, dearest.”

He inhaled sharply as she knelt to the ground in front of him, releasing his hands, gently holding his face in her hands.

“Odysseus, King of Ithaca,” she whispered into the night, for him and him alone, “I vow to support you, to love you, to stand by your side through every trial, every challenge, every test. I am yours and yours alone.”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against hers. “I vow today and every day that comes after. Be there thrones, be there kingdoms, be there none of it at all. I am wholly and completely yours, Penelope.”

He moved slowly, capturing her face in his hands. Using the pad of his thumb, he brushed away a tear that had fallen. “Crying, my queen?” he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

Penelope gripped his arms, a shaky laugh escaping. “I just…” her voice trembled, “I never imagined I could cleave to a man I love.”

The smile that exuded from him was radiant. He couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m going to kiss you, wife.” He said, his voice was dark. The word, her title, hung between them, heavy with the weight of promise.

“Then do it, husband,” she whispered back, her grip on him tightening.

He claimed her, not as a king claims a kingdom, or a general claims a victory, but as the ocean claims the sands, like bees claim the flowers, like it was the most natural thing.

Like it was what he was created to do.