Page 62 of Elysium

HE TRIED FOR THE REST OF THE DAY to convince her to stay away from the gods. The following day as well. But his wife was as hardheaded as they had come.

It took a little bit of finessing to find a way to summon the lord of the underworld, but Odysseus had nothing but time on his hands.

By the evening of the second day, he had acquired some soil from the underworld, and had carved time out for him and his wife to meet Hades.

It was Penelope’s idea to offer the sacrifice in their cove, the first place that the underworld gods had appeared to them. He prayed that between the connection they held to that place and the offering, it would be enough to rouse their attention.

They stood there in the moonlight, hands clutched together as they watched the waves lap at the shoreline. They had constructed a crude altar from driftwood and stones, placing the vase of soil in the middle.

“Odysseus,” her voice broke through the quiet surrounding them. “Are you ready?”

He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “No, wife, I don’t think I’ll ever be.” He looked to where she stood, her face emotionless, shoulders back. “I wonder, heart, if I will ever be able to stand without your support.”

Penelope leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “You will never have reason to find out, husband.”

He unsheathed the dagger on his hip, stepping forward to the altar. Carefully, he sliced a line through the palm of his hand, letting the blood drip into the vase. Clenching his fist closed, he took a step backwards, back to Penelope’s side.

Only to find that she was next to him, reaching for his knife. “No,” he shook his head, pulling the dagger out of her reach.

“Together, my king,” she stretched, extended her arm across his torso, “or not at all.” Once the weapon was in her grasp, she copied his action, allowing her own blood to mix with his.

Smoke rose from the vase and Odysseus extended his arm, as if he could block his queen from whatever was about to occur. Instead of shrinking under his protection, Penelope slid her fingers through his again, squeezing his hand.

The smoke started as a gentle billow and gradually became thicker, consuming the vase whole and creeping down the altar. Plumes of ash swirled around their feet, lapping at their ankles as it threatened to swallow them, swallow the beach.

Odysseus steeled himself, broadening his shoulders and straightening his back. The theatrics of the gods were not foreign to him, but as the clouds of smoke grew thicker, so did the fear lodged in his throat.

“Odysseus of Ithaca,” a voice came from beyond, out of sight. Out of the smoke rose not one but two figures, their silhouettes as dark as the night itself. “What an unexpected summons, boy.”

He refused to falter, refused to shrink under the scrutiny of the gods. “Welcome back to Ithaca, Lord Hades.” Odysseus bowed deeply, though his eyes never left the gods that stood before him.

“Are you so crass, little king, that you do not greet my queen?” Hades sneered at him, brow furrowed.

“Lady Persephone,” His wife spoke, quickly intercepting, “Thank you for answering our summons. Your presence blesses us.”

“You could learn something from your queen, Ithacan.” The lord of the underworld curled an arm around Persephone. “She has more etiquette in a delicate finger than you have thrice over.”

He itched to mimic the god’s motions, to lay claim to his wife the same way Hades openly asserted his possession of the goddess of spring. But Penelope was worth more than that. He would not stoop to the level that the god expected him to. He had to be more than that.

“I would like to discuss the deal we struck, Hades. Perhaps amend it.” Instead, he offered his arm to his queen, a little piece of him easing as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Odysseus might be just a mortal man, but he didn’t miss the way Persephone’s gaze softened, just a little bit.

“There is no room for amendments, Ithacan.”

“Husband-” The goddess interrupted him, “Must you always be so quick to dismiss? We may enjoy watching him unravel… let’s put him to a test.”

His heart was racing in his chest. He was tired of the god’s tests and trials. “Name your test, goddess.” He said through clenched teeth.

She grinned, which unsettled the Ithacan to his core. In an instant, the wife beside him turned to dust. Odysseus’ hand went to his dagger, trembling.

“Choose, King.” Persephone’s voice was soft but unyielding. With a wave of her hand, his wife stood in front of him in duplicate. “One is flesh, one is dust and shadow. If you take the wrong hand, your wife will disappear into nothing, and your deal with my husband stands.”

He drew in a breath, eyes darting between the two wives in front of him. He could spend forever comparing intricate details, looking for her birthmarks, her scars, specks of green in her eyes. But Persephone would not miss the minute things.

Both women stood in front of him. Still as stone, breathing even, and eyes locked on him. For a brief moment, his mind reeled. When he had stepped foot onto this beach, losing her was never an option.

Odysseus opened his arms in a gesture of welcome, eyes darting between both women. “I’ve been thinking about some changes to our palace,” he said, shrugging. “That old bed isn’t nearly what it used to be.”

He laughed.

“I think we’ve worn it out, queen.” His heart was pounding in his chest. “Let’s replace it.”

Both women shook their heads at his suggestion, the motions in sync. One spoke, “The palace is built around that tree, husband.”

He looked to the other, waiting.

“It’s where we shared our wedding vows, my king.”

Odysseus swore under his breath. Of course, it wouldn’t have been that easy.

Steeling himself, he did the only other thing he knew how to do.

“Wife,” he drawled, looking between both Penelopes.

“I must admit… I have often dreamt of this moment. A night with two of the most beautiful women in the world?” He winked towards one Penelope and noticed a gentle flush creep up her neck.

“I just never knew it was possible, as you are the only beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.”

The blushing Penelope batted her eyelashes at him, repressing a giggle. “Oh, husband,” her voice was breathy, “You’ve always been a poet.” But Odysseus was already looking the other way. To the woman with her arms crossed, brow knitted, and a look that could kill.

As the Fates would have it, this hadn’t been a challenge after all.

With his back to the mewling woman, he closed the distance between where he stood and where his wife was in an instant.

He could feel the irritation rolling off of her, solidifying his decision.

“Nothing?” He teased, taking her hand in his.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckle.

“Couldn’t even pretend to be smitten, wife? ”

Penelope scoffed, though her lips tugged upwards gently. “Couldn’t even pretend to not be a fool? Besides,” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “Had I fawned… would you have been able to decipher between flesh and mimicry?”

The king dropped her hand, gently brushing his fingers along her jaw before cradling her face in his hand. “Always, my queen.”

Without turning to face the gods, without breaking his wife’s gaze, Odysseus laughed, the sound reverberating off of the cliff-side around them.

“You should have studied harder, goddess.” As he cupped her face in his hands, he bent, kissing her forehead.

“Well, wife, as always… you prove to be inimitable. A force even the gods cannot replicate.”

“Queen,” a growl came from behind them. “You let him win.”

“No, King,” Persephone quickly corrected him.

“He knew the game better than expected. Mortal men aren’t typically so…

in tune with their wives.” She paused, causing Odysseus to finally turn to face her.

The goddess looked upon the king and queen with something that could almost be considered fondness.

“Truly, Hades, there are gods that don’t know their wives as well as the Ithacan knows his. ”

The god of the underworld grumbled. “I will hear your amendment, boy. But I make no promises of acceptance.”

Odysseus turned fully, facing the gods head on now. He stood between the divine and his wife, an immovable force. He would protect her from further divine intervention; she would be safe.

But as he opened his mouth to speak, he felt the unmistakable warmth that was Penelope moving to his side, a hand on his arm, hearts beating in sync. His voice caught, just for a second, he had always stood up to the gods alone.

Alone for his crew on Aeaea.

Alone for his crew on Thrinacia.

Alone for his crew in the underworld.

And now… he did not stand alone.

“Gods of the underworlds, I am a man that has walked many disgraceful paths.” Penelope’s hand trembled against his skin, but she did not falter. He reached across, settling his hand over hers. “And I have made many mistakes. The one thing I do not regret, after all these years, is my wife.”

He looked to her, eyes shining with tears. “There is a threat to her, to my kingdom. Zeus’ eyes are on us, and I want protection for her.”

Hades laughed, the sound sending a chill across the king’s skin. “And what, little Ithacan, do you think you can give me that is worth angering my brother?”

“Me.” He fought to keep his composure, to keep his gaze trained on the gods in front of them. “Early, now. I will not fight you, Hades. Let me balance the scales sooner and protect her. Protect my son.”

“No.” Hades said.

“Right this moment?” Persephone spoke at the same time, tilting her head as she studied him. “You would leave Ithaca, leave this plane, right this very second for her?”

“Yes, I would.”

“If I told you to walk forward right now, step into this ocean and to the underworld, and she would be safe… would you do it without looking back?” The goddess pushed him farther.

Penelope stilled beside him. She was holding her breath.

“Goddess, I would sprout wings and fly through the Styx if it would keep her safe.”

The goddess turned to face her husband. “Give it to him, my king. I have judged his heart, and I find his love to be pure. Let him protect his wife.”

Hades studied the goddess of spring, brow knitted as he crossed his arms. “Truly, queen? That is your desire?”

The Ithacan’s heart beat wildly in his chest, were it any louder, the gods themselves could hear it. The mortal king and queen watched as Persephone pressed up on her toes, kissing the god gently on the cheek. “It is, my king.”

Hades did not hesitate, turning to Odysseus. “Fine, Ithacan. If that is your amendment, then tonight is when you’ll die.”

Relieved as he might feel over his wife’s newly granted protection, Odysseus didn’t miss how the god’s brow quirked, how his eyes quickly darted to his wife.

The waves crashed against the cliffs. A gull cried in the distance. The world was not ending, though the finality of his words felt like perhaps it should.

Penelope’s nails dug into his arm, keeping him in the present, on the beach.

He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry.

“When you lay in your bed tonight, little king, it will ferry you to the underworld.” Persephone spoke this time.

“Do take care, king, who you fall asleep next to. Anyone found asleep wrapped in your olive tree will face the same fate.” The god smirked. “Tonight, Odysseus.”

“Then let’s not waste time,” Odysseus said, nodding. The air around him tasted like cinders and pitch.

With a nod, the gods vanished, the shadows in their cove retreating with them. The queen at his side inhaled sharply, fingers trembling against his skin. “Odysseus,” she whispered into the ocean breeze. “What have we done?”