Page 56 of Elysium

HE FELT HER brEATH ON HIS NECK, steady and strong. He could tell she was still asleep by the way her fingers twitched against his arm, the way she didn’t stir when he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and brought the other to her cheek, gently running his thumb along her cheekbone. He could hardly believe that, after all these years, such a stunning woman could still find it in her heart to love him.

Penelope had always been the most beautiful creature he had laid his eyes on. Even as she stood next to Helen of Sparta, the daughter of a goddess, fawned and fought over for her beauty, his eyes had never left his wife’s.

He sighed, eyes drifting closed as the morning sun warmed their room. “Don’t you dare fall back to sleep.” Her voice was muffled, cheek pressed against the planes of his chest.

“Who would blame me? You kept me up all night with your mad desires, my love.” He felt her grin against his skin, felt the heat as her face flushed. But she didn’t answer, curling an arm around his midsection and holding him close.

His fingers stilled against her cheek, the warmth of her skin anchoring him in this peaceful moment.

A smile tugged at his lips, but it faltered as a thought, unbidden and vulnerable, slipped from his tired mind.

"You’re better off without me, you know," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. "I’m a ghost of the man I used to be."

The words hung in the air like a stone, heavy and wrong.

Penelope’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, everything stilled. Then her body shifted, and he felt the unmistakable tension in her shoulders.

She pulled away just enough to look at him, and the sharpness in her gaze cut through him like a blade. “What did you just say?” Her voice was soft, but there was a simmering edge to it he couldn’t ignore.

His chest tightened, and he blinked, trying to swallow the weight of his words. “Penelope-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her hand going to his chest with a force that felt like a rebuke. “Don’t even think that. Don’t you dare.”

“I didn’t mean -” He was spluttering, trying to retract his words. He had been so at ease, half delirious from their night together, and hadn’t meant to say anything at all.

And especially nothing of that caliber.

“No.” She sat up, the downturn of her mouth causing Odysseus to sweat. “You don’t get to say things like that, you idiot.”

He followed her, sitting up to stay on her level. He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed a single finger against his lips. “I’m not having this argument with you again, Odysseus.” Her voice was resolute, her brow furrowed.

“I don’t want to argue, love.” He reached for her, but she avoided his touch, anger still laced through her eyes.

“But you still don’t seem to get it,” she snapped at him. She moved to stand, to leave him alone in the bed. He moved quickly, circling his fingers around her wrist, refusing to let her walk away.

“Please don’t leave, Penelope,” He whispered. “Please don’t let this taint our morning.”

“How could you say that, Odysseus? Have I not shown you, proven to you, day after day, that you are the only person I want? You are the only man I want to spend the rest of my days with.”

She was still arguing with him, but at least she slid back underneath the covers.

She was still within arm’s reach. “I know, my love, I know.” He gently laid a hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her skin.

The anger did not leave her face, but he didn’t miss how she leaned into his touch, if only just.

“I just meant… you’ve always deserved better than I could offer, Pen.” She stiffened beneath his touch, glowering.

“I think I hate you,” she muttered, closing her eyes to take a deep breath. He offered her a smile, hoping to break through her rigid exterior. “How could you say that, Odysseus?”

The smile failed.

“You deserve the world, wife. I could ne-”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” She growled, grabbing his wrist and pushing him off of her. “I don’t want the world. I have never wanted the world. I have only ever wanted you.”

Odysseus felt himself floundering. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“Odysseus, Zeus himself could present himself to me, try to convince me to share his bed, and I would refuse .” She snarled the last word, “I don’t want a king of the gods. I don’t want some other man. I want you . All of you. Every day.”

She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her directly. “You. Odysseus.” She rose on her knees, pressing her forehead against his. “No thrones, no gods, no history.”

A soft smile fluttered across his face.

“Odysseus,” she whispered, making sure she had his attention. “We will never doubt this again.” She echoed the words he had used to anchor her months ago, tucked away in a Spartan bedroom.

Instead of answering, he tilted his head up, pressing his lips to hers. His hands found her quickly, wrapping her up in his arms. “Never again, queen. You have my word.”

He pulled her back down onto the pillows, curving around her back, arms locking around her. The warmth of her body seeped into his limbs as he lay there, drawing lazy circles on her skin.

Penelope squirmed under his arm, backing closer into him. A low rumble formed in his chest. “My queen,” his voice darkened, “If you continue that, I will not be on time for my next engagement.”

She turned underneath his grasp, reaching up to run her fingers down the side of his throat. “Where are you going?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before shifting to stand. Her fingers lingered on his wrist. He bent down, kissing the inside of her palm. “To see our son.”

It took all his willpower to remove himself from their bed. To remove himself from his wife’s arms.

Telemachus stood with his back to the door, speaking quietly to one soldier, when Odysseus entered the bustling courtyard. The ever present sting of grief flared up as he watched his son interact with the Ithacan people so easily.

A pang that reminded Odysseus, daily, how he had failed his boy. How he would never be the father he had needed.

But as he had been counseling Telemachus on the workings of leadership and running a kingdom, the ache had lessened, but only slightly. His son never needed him to teach him how to be a man, how to be a leader.

Penelope had shown him everything he needed to know. The rest… Well, Odysseus was just thankful that the suitors hadn’t been the only influence on his son while he was lost at sea.

“My king,” He called to his son, trying to inject some lightheartedness into his words. “Spare a moment for your senile father?”

“Of course,” Telemachus turned, dismissing the guard with a nod. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Walk with me, son.” Odysseus motioned for the younger man to lead, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

The men walked in silence for quite some time, neither one speaking, daring to sever the tension that weighed between them.

“Father-”

“Telemachus-”

They spoke at the same time, rousing a laugh from the older man. “You first, young king.” A smile tugged at his lips.

“I am worried about her.” He avoided his father’s gaze, eyes staring into the treeline in front of them. “I think she is hiding things from me. From us.”

Odysseus clapped his son on the shoulder, grinning.

“Son, one thing you will learn about your mother… She is always steps ahead of us.” He let out a sigh, looking up to the clouds that covered the Ithacan sky.

“She hides things, son. Not to trick or act in malice, but because it’s how she keeps us safe.

Her secrets are how your mother believes she protects us. ”

“And do they?”

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

The smile that his son offered him left an ache in his gut. It was sad, the way the corner of his mouth turned gently upwards, not quite reaching his eyes. “What favor do you have for me, Father?” He asked after a moment of quiet.

“Spring will be here soon enough,” He tried to keep himself from wringing his hands together, trying to tamp down the frantic feeling of anxiety that always wormed its way in when thinking of the end. “And… I worry about her, too.”

The young king nodded, but did not speak. Did not meet his father’s eyes.

“When the time comes, Telemachus…” his words lodged in his throat. “Please, son, watch over her.” Odysseus’ voice cracked as he forced the sentence out, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I have some experience in that area, Father.” The younger man attempted to tease, shifting to bump his shoulder into his fathers.

That was the final straw.

A few tears broke free of their place, leaving tracks on the old man’s cheeks. “I have always needed too much from you, son. Too much from your mother.” He tried to settle his breathing, to regain a bit of his composure before he was too far gone.

“It was never a burden, Father. I will protect her until my last breath. She is my mother.” It was his son’s turn to reach out to him. Telemachus’ hand settled on his shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze. “And I can promise you, Mother would wait for you for eons more, Father.”

“Don’t-” His voice shuddered, “She’s too headstrong for her own good.” Odysseus shook his head, “Talk about me. Once I’m,” another sob escaped, “Once I’m gone, she will condense her memories, push them aside and away because she thinks it will keep her from cracking.”

“Father -”

Odysseus couldn’t speak. He held a hand up to his son, failing to collect himself once more. He was crushed by the weight of leaving his wife behind. By the weight of expectations he was forced to put upon his son. “Don’t let her forget me, son.”

He turned his face towards the sun, drawing in a measured breath. With his eyes closed, with fists clenched at his side, he had run out of words.

He felt arms around his shoulders, a tight embrace pulling him in. Odysseus’ breath hitched as realization settled in. Moving, he returned the motion, holding his son tightly in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Telemachus.” He whispered through the tears.

“We are lucky to call you ours, Father.”

Trying to stifle the sob that crept up in his throat, Odysseus gripped the back of his son’s tunic just a little bit tighter, as if he could freeze this moment in time and could keep the future at bay.