Page 42 of Elysium

TIME STOOD STILL WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER. She had never known affection like this, adoration like this. In all her years, in all the time she had spent imagining what her life, her role, as a wife would look like… she had never even dared to believe it could be like this.

Odysseus doted on her. In the last three days, she wasn’t sure she had spent a moment apart from him.

She wasn’t complaining.

The light of the mid-morning sun covered them like a blanket. He was still dozing, Penelope curled into his side. As she listened to the steady rise and fall of his breath, she gently ran her fingers through the soft hairs on his chest.

“Wife,” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

His arms instinctively folded around her frame, pulling her closer.

Odysseus shifted slightly, eyes locking onto hers.

“Could this be how I will greet each day? With a goddess in my arms?” He nuzzled his nose behind her ear, pressing a kiss to her neck.

She felt her face heat under his adoration.

His hand found her cheek, the pad of his thumb ghosting over her lips. “Tell me, wife,” he spoke softly still, keeping the moment contained to them, to this. “What do you have planned for this day?”

Penelope let out a breathless laugh. They had done nothing but this since they had exchanged vows. She had been hiding him away from his kingdom, keeping him from his duties. And yet - right now, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel ashamed.

“Husband,” she answered him, placing a light kiss to the curve of his jaw. “You know I am at your beck and call. I go where you go.”

“Why don’t we take a walk today? There’s someone I want you to meet.” He brushed her hair off of her face, leaning forward to press his lips to hers.

Penelope hummed contently against his mouth, her hands tousling his hair as he deepened the kiss. She pulled back, only slightly, “Anywhere,” she replied, her lips skimming his, “anyone.”

She felt his lips curl up into a smile, felt his breath against her face. “Good, my father will be delighted to meet you.”

She blinked, praying that she had misheard, misunderstood. She withdrew from his hold, sitting up fully in their bed. His… father?

“Penelope…” he reached to her, laying his hand gently over hers.

How could she have been so na?ve? She had been so certain that Odysseus took the throne because his father had crossed over into the underworld.

She was gripping the sheets in her hands, her pulse hammering in her ears. “Your father?” She asked, her voice much quieter than she intended.

Had she been so wrapped up in the touch of him, the feeling of utter devotion, that she had… failed to ask about his family?

Her cheeks flushed furiously, her hands now wringing the blankets she clung to. “Penelope,” he spoke again. She felt him moving beside her, sitting up. He kissed her bare shoulder, rubbing her arm in a way that was meant to be reassuring. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” She said roughly. She shook her head, trying desperately to put her thoughts in order. “Odysseus…” she turned, meeting his gaze. His eyes held so much softness, so much adoration, that her anxieties started to melt.

Most of it, anyway.

“Odysseus,” she repeated, dragging in a steadying breath. “He knows about us, right? You’ve told him?”

An impish smile crossed his features. “He will soon enough.”

Her stomach plummeted, eyes widening. Her heart skipped several beats as she sat there, looking at this man, her husband, and trying to decide if she wanted to hide from his devious grin, or smack some sense into him.

“Husband,” she tried to keep the reprehension out of her voice, but knew she was failing. “We have been back in Ithaca for over a week. Married for three days. And you’re telling me you haven’t found the time to tell your father about your new wife?”

Odysseus shrugged. It was the deciding factor before Penelope swatted him on the arm. “I’ve been a little busy, wife,” he growled, his mouth nearer to her ear. “We’ve been a little busy.”

Her face burned at the memories, at the way he was smirking. Looking at her as if he could read her mind, as if he could tell exactly what she’s thinking.

She squared her shoulders, leveling him with the best disapproving look she could muster. “Oh, I’m sorry, husband,” she hissed, shoving his shoulder. “Should I apologize for distracting you from your royal obligations?”

Odysseus laughed, catching her hand before she could shove him again. He gently kissed her knuckles, the look in his eyes downright wicked. “I’m not complaining, wife.”

With a groan, Penelope removed herself from the warmth of the bed. Her husband followed shortly after, clambering about the entire time.

“You’re an oaf of a man,” she shot over her shoulder as she righted her curls.

He gasped, hand flying to his chest in mock offense. “An oaf? Wife, I am wounded.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching for her dress, but before she could pull it over her shoulders, Odysseus was behind her, smoothing the fabric into place himself. His fingers ghosted along her arms, his lips finding the curve of her shoulder.

“Would an oaf know exactly how to make his wife writhe beneath him?” he murmured against her skin, utterly shameless. “How to make her cries echo across their bedroom?”

Penelope shut her eyes for a moment, gathering herself. Gods help her. This man was impossible. “An oaf would know if he didn't let me leave this room. He’d be explaining to his father why his wife never arrived for their introduction.”

Odysseus stilled for a beat, just a beat, before huffing dramatically and stepping back. “Fine,” he sighed, resting a hand over his heart. “I will allow you to leave.”

She turned to him, unimpressed. “You will allow me?”

He grinned, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead before heading for the door. “Come, wife. My father is waiting.”

She steeled herself, following behind him as they navigated the halls of the palace. In the few moments they had escaped from their rooms, she had met members of the Ithacan staff. They smiled at her, at them, as they walked the halls now.

As they neared the main gate, Odysseus paused, offering his arm to her. “He’s a good man, Penelope.” He said, suddenly. “People think… I hear them talk…”

She furrowed her brow, looking up at him. “Odysseus…” she started, gently laying her other hand on his arm. “I thought no differently. He raised you. He has to be a good man.”

The king chuckled, shaking his head.

Much to Penelope’s dismay, it took the pair no time at all before they stood at the door to Laertes’ house. Her heart was lodged in her throat. She was doing everything she could to keep her hands from trembling.

She had spent her life in the presence of kings. Why was she so shaken now?

Odysseus pushed the door open, dropping her hand. She steeled herself as she followed behind him, head bowed, hands clasped in front of her.

It was so easy for her to fall back into the expectations that had been drilled into her head since birth, to be the dutiful wife she had been trained to be.

“My son,” a voice came from inside the home, “Finally made time for your doddering father?” The voice carried mirth, a tone so similar to the one she had heard in her husband’s words many times.

“Father,” Odysseus replied, and though she couldn’t see it, she heard the smile in his tone. “I have news to share.”

His father entered the room, grey hair tied back, hunched slightly. Penelope did her best not to stare, not to look anywhere but at the floor in front of her.

“My my, Odysseus.” His father mused, looking her up and down. Despite her best effort, she felt the heat rise in her cheeks underneath the old man’s scrutiny. “What’s a pretty lady like this doing, following your dogged self around?”

She tried to fight it, but the corners of her mouth quirked up into a smile. “This pretty lady,” her husband started, stepping aside so his father could see, “is my wife.”

“Since when?”

“Since three nights ago.”

“By whom?”

“By us.”

“Ah,” his father noted. Penelope took this moment to look at the man standing in front of her.

He looked so much like Odysseus, it made her heart ache. The same mischievous smile, the same furrowed brow, the same wild eyes. “My son,” Laertes continued, catching her eye, “where did you find such a queen?”

Odysseus laughed, throwing his head backwards with the act. A piece of Penelope’s heart unclenched as she saw how free he was here. He wasn’t trying to hide the man he was.

The man she loved.

“I stole her, father.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, grinning down at his wife. “Stole her right from the Spartan shores.”

“That’s not true-” Penelope interrupted him. She immediately clamped her mouth shut, eyes wide in fear. She knew better than to correct kings, then to interrupt men when they were meeting. She had been raised better.

“Oh, my queen.” His father wore a toothy grin, eyes trained on Penelope. “Please, my son is an expert at falsehoods. Share your story with this old man.”

“I-” she spluttered, caught off guard. She willed her hands to stop trembling before she met his gaze. “It was my idea to sneak away. I knew that-” Penelope stopped herself, worrying her bottom lip as she glanced at Odysseus.

Her husband was radiant. His entire being was alight as he watched her, captivated by her every word. “Knew what, Princess?” He asked, voice darker than she expected. His eyes narrowed, if only slightly, asking his own question in his gaze.

“Knew that I would always wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t run away with the mad Ithacan King.” She finished, her voice not nearly as strong as she had wanted.

“Ah,” Laertes said again, nodding his head. “It’s love then, is it?” He asked, turning now to look at his son. “You married a woman for love?” There was something in his voice, something that almost could have been disappointment. Penelope’s heart was lodged in her throat as she watched, waited.

“Yes, father. I did. I knew the minute I laid eyes on her. My life would have known only agony if I had left Sparta without her.”

“Gods, son, you stole a Spartan princess?”

“Father… didn’t we just clarify that she was a willing participant? Stole is a harsh word… I think ‘broke out’ is a better term for what we did.” The light in his eyes continued to dance, never leaving her.

“Good,” his father said eventually, turning his back on the pair of them. “Come inside, foolish king. I’m sure Eurycleia will want to fatten you up before you take your leave.”

“Good, father? That’s all you have to say?” Odysseus finally looked away from Penelope and to his father as he walked away from both of them. “What do I do with ‘good’?”

“No king gets to choose their bride. No king gets to run off in the night with a woman they have recklessly called their own.” Laertes said, over his shoulder. “Fewer kings get to do so with a woman that chooses them back. You’re a lucky man, King of Ithaca.”

Odysseus looked to his wife, a foolhardy grin strung across his lips. He stepped closer to her, running his hands down her arms. “That went well.” He said, dropping his lips to meet hers, if only briefly.