Page 44 of Elysium

HE HAD STOLEN AWAY IN THE EVENINGS, while the moon was high, and his wife slept soundly. He couldn’t bear the thought of being away from her while she was awake, but he had this idea… this nagging design that he couldn’t shake.

After several nights of work, slipping out of bed while his wife slept, and back in before she woke, he had completed it.

Now, to present it to his queen.

“Wake up,” he jostled his sleeping wife. He tried and failed to keep the excitement out of his voice as he woke her. “Come, wife, rise and greet the day.”

“Odysseus,” she groaned, covering her eyes with an arm. “Why must you torment me so?”

“Torment you? I would never, my love. Now come, get up.” He pulled the sheets back, eliciting a hiss from his bride.

She scowled at him the entire time she got dressed, but it didn’t even phase the king. Truth be told, if she only scowled at him for the rest of their time together on this earth, he would still die a happy man.

“What could possibly need my attention before the rest of Ithaca is awake, dear?” Penelope asked as she ran a brush through her hair.

“Oh, stop primping,” he complained, practically vibrating with excitement. “Let’s go.” He snatched the hairbrush out of her hand, pulling her to him. He paused, just for a second, to take in the magnificent view that was his wife.

He knew their days together were numbered, but gods… he had to be the luckiest man in the world.

He kissed her quickly, rough. She whimpered against his lips as his hands tightened on her hips. “Stop distracting me,” he panted as he pulled away.

Penelope deepened her scowl, shaking her head at him. He took her by the hand, pulling her out of their bedroom.

Odysseus had to will himself to walk. Something inside of him was going to burst if he couldn’t show her his creation. As they neared the agora, he paused at the door. “Come, wife,” he beckoned her forward. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?” She mused, raising an eyebrow. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but he could see his own mirth reflected in her eyes.

“Yes, come here.” He motioned for her to stand in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, covering her eyes with his hands. “Is this alright?” he asked, standing close.

“Do I have a say?” She retorted, shoulders shaking with gentle laughter. Her hands came up to hold his wrists, steadying herself.

Penelope allowed him to guide her through the doorway, stepping in time with him. He was beaming as he saw his craftsmanship in the light of day. It was perfect. “Are you ready?” He asked, lips close to her ear.

She nodded beneath his hands, and he moved them from her face, taking a step to the side to watch her reaction.

“Oh, Odysseus…” she said, hand coming to her mouth. Her eyes watered in the morning sun as she looked on. “Is that for us?”

He didn’t answer, just motioned for her to step closer, to take a look.

On the agora, his throne still sat where it once stood, alone.

Off to the side, there was a longer seat, fit for two people.

“I can’t stand the idea of being separated by something as trivial as the arm of a chair.

” He told her nonchalantly. “So I fixed that problem.”

“Husband,” she whispered, running her fingers over the intricately carved branches. “When have you had the time to make this?” Her voice was so soft in the large room.

His heart was going to burst from his chest. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Is this-” She turned to look at him, and his breath caught in his lungs at the sight. His beautiful, patient, wonderful wife, with tears staining her cheeks.

“Wood from our olive grove?” He grinned, closing the distance between them, taking her hands in his. “Yes, it is.” With his free hand, he brushed a tear off of her cheek. “Only seemed right. Our rule started with an olive tree. It should end with one, too.”

Penelope inhaled sharply, “End?” She asked, her voice still barely a whisper, catching in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Penelope, light of my life, I have been doing some thinking.” He said, cupping her face in his hands now. He tried to blink back his own tears as he looked at her. Nothing else mattered to him. No thrones, no kingdoms, just her .

“I think it’s time for me, for us, to step down. Telemachus is ready, and I am tired.”

She didn’t respond, not right away. In another moment, Odysseus would have bragged about rendering his wife speechless. He knew this would be hard to hear. It was a heavy declaration to make.

He had outwitted gods, killed men, lost friends, and suffered for years on end, while this steadfast woman held his home, their home , together in some semblance of peace.

He had the time to think this through, had the time to decide what he wanted. Odysseus had spent countless hours sculpting for his wife in silence, poring over what he wanted his last few months to look like.

If he only had so much time left, he didn’t want to spend it worrying about politics, about trade, about any of it. He just wanted to spend it with his wife wrapped in his arms.

“Odysseus,” she finally broke the silence, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. “I… you can’t…” Her eyes searched his face, searched for answers.

“I can, I do.” He responded, bending to place a kiss to her temple. “I want my last days to be mine, not a king’s.” He smiled softly before continuing. “It’s what my father chose in the end. And now, so will I.”

Penelope closed her eyes. He could feel her shaky breaths, the way she tried not to tremble beneath him. “Then why did you build us a new throne, husband?” She asked him, not meeting his gaze. Her grip on his wrist tightened.

He let out a gentle laugh. “Clever wife,” he said, resting his forehead against hers.

“Telemachus is ready, but we won’t abandon him.

We are going to offer our services and advise our son as he takes the throne.

We will bridge the gap and ease the transition.

You, my queen, are a wealth of knowledge.

You will be a wonderful mentor to our new king. ”

As he looked at his wife, he noted how time had greyed her hair. How the years had worn on her physically. And yet, those things did not keep him from also seeing the wild woman he had stolen away with.

The woman he built his kingdom with.

The woman he built his palace around.

???????????

“Odysseus, slow down!” Penelope called as he tugged on her hand. She was breathless, breathtaking. He pulled her down the path, towards the palace.

“Hurry, queen. It’s important.” He called over his shoulder, squeezing her hand gently. He heard her give a winded laugh, but she didn’t refuse him.

They stopped just before the entrance of the palace, the new palace. “Yes, my love,” Penelope said, pressing her hand to her chest as she cut her eyes at him. “You and your men have been working relentlessly on finishing this.” She stood, meeting his gaze. “You said it was almost complete.”

Odysseus grinned, shaking his head quickly. “Not our home, wife. That’s not why we’re here.” He pushed the wooden doors open, stepping inside.

He was proud of what they had built. That was true. It had been a labor of love, a decision to build their lives, their family, in a place of their own. But there was something far more precious hidden within the walls.

Taking her hand again, Odysseys led her down a hall, stopping at a beautiful cypress door. Turning, he grinned. “Shall we, queen?” He asked, holding a hand out for her.

Penelope quirked an eyebrow at him, but took a step forward. “Ah, wait…” He stepped right behind her, covering her eyes with his hands. “Is this alright?” He whispered in her ear, unable to tame the excitement in his voice.

She hummed in agreement, hands coming up to hold on to his wrists, to steady herself. “Lead the way, king.”

He walked her carefully into the large room, kicking the door closed behind them. He was fond of his men, of the people of Ithaca, but this was for them and them alone. “Ready?” Odysseus asked, his own hands trembling as he waited.

She nodded. He dropped his hands.

“Odysseus,” she breathed, hands immediately coming up to her mouth. “Is that…?” She took a few steps forward, towards the centerpiece of the room.

“The tree where we exchanged our vows?” He finished for her, placing a hand on the small of her back as he moved forward to meet her. “The very same one.”

In the center of the room, the tree grew wildly, limbs climbing up into the ceiling, down the walls, canopying over the bed that lay beneath it. Penelope walked forward, dragging a finger along the carved wood.

The head of the bed was carved into the trunk of their olive tree, posts connected to and running from either side, down to the footboard, where olive vines and branches had been sculpted into the wood.

When she turned to look at him, there were tears running down her cheeks. “Odysseus,” she whispered, reaching for him. The king willingly wrapped her up in his arms, pressing his lips to any part of her he could reach.

“You know, I was never going to finish this place.” He murmured into her hair. “I started it years before Helen of Sparta was a name spoken across all of Greece. I wanted to build my life inside this home.” He loosened his grip to pull back, to gently turn her chin to meet his gaze.

“It seemed pointless, wife. To have a palace all to myself without someone to share it with. So I stopped.” A smile teased the corner of his lips. “And then… this rogue olive tree decided to grow. In the middle of my home. It vexed me, queen. Nowhere near the groves, and this tree springs up.”

He brushed a tear away with the pad of his thumb, watching as she tried to calm herself. He would hold her forever if that’s what she needed. “But then… then I am called to Sparta. I meet a woman, this wild, mad woman. Right in the middle of my life, she springs up.”

Penelope let out a quiet sob, laughing as she did. “This wild woman meets me with a fury I have never seen before. She matches me step for step. I was smitten within moments of hearing her say my name.” She was smiling now and, gods, he loved her smile.

“I knew the night that I married her that this would be our home. This is where we would raise our family. That this wasn’t just an olive tree in the middle of a forgotten home. This was our home, our future.

“I love you, Penelope.” He whispered, his own tears clouding his eyes now. “Now, tomorrow, and forever.”

???????????

Her hands were in his hair, clinging to him. “Odysseus,” she whispered, pulling him from memory. “I have been waiting twenty years to rule by your side once more.” Her voice was thick.

His breath caught in his lungs as she spoke. Denial twisted in his chest. Of course, he would keep ruling if that was what she wanted. He would end his days as the king of Ithaca, standing at her side.

But, gods, he wanted rest.

“However,” she continued after a moment, closing her eyes, breaking his gaze. “Being by your side is all that matters to me. If you are finished, I am finished.” She released a shaky breath. “I go where you go.”