"So you've come for questions right, Athena?~"
"What did Odysseus do..." The Goddess of wisdom asked unashamed. Her knowledge was lacking to what Odysseus had accomplished, so she sought one that may have the answers.
Apollo.
"Well, that truly is an interesting question! Even if the mortal I gave a blessing to was unskilled, Ody should not have been able to contest it.
Well let me ramble abit and perhaps you can glean some information."
"Please don't make this into a therapy session…"
…
The war in Troy had raged for years, claiming the lives of men he had known since childhood. It was only a matter of time before the call to duty reached him.
Odysseus pondered the consequences of his choices, and how many lives had been lost because of a single woman's beauty. Because of his wit and his choice.
The promise to protect Helen of Sparta.
In his mind he knew that he was just the spark of war. The Spartans and other kings had always coveted Troy's wealth. If he hadn't said anything, they would have found a reason regardless.
Yet it still burns his heart.
Odysseus found a moment of solitude. His guilt was evident in his expression and he wondered how many lives had been lost because of that promise.
He had spent the last few weeks in the barracks
Today, a feast dedicated to his 18th birthday, a special day. A party raged on like no other beneath his feat as he gazed to the horizon upon the balcony.
He recalled a custom, vague yet insistent memory(?)
He felt compelled to act. He had mentioned it to his men and they thought him to be mad. Such an act would anger the gods right?
He did it anyway. He trusted his gut.
He would do the best for his men. Many had died for his mistakes, he could at least allow them to enjoy the days before the war to the fullest.
He carried a terracotta jug filled with the finest Ithacan wine to a clothed bench filled with fruit and delicious food.
Kneeling, he placed the wine onto it, the rich scent mingling with the fragrance of the fertile soil.
"Soon my Men will fall. Such a thing is inevitable in war… I have hardened my heart, prepared for such an outcome."
Odysseus continued to kneel as he closed his eyes.
"Dionysus," he murmured, "Grant my Men a reprieve for the coming battle, allow them to drink on the finest wines to their hearts content and enjoy their luxury until their final days. Let them stray away from grief and wounds of the heart. Bless us all with your spirit of celebration and freedom." And with that he burnt the cloth, setting ablaze the offerings he has presented.
He did not look back towards the fire.
He would never know that such an offering began the tradition of burning. For heroes and Demi-gods in the future to burn such luxuries in order to capture a god's gaze.
Odysseus slipped away from the festivities.
He was a king. He was a man who reached maturity. Yet he was burdened with a soft heart.
…
His hands, calloused from combat and toil, had transformed over the years. He snuck into his own palace, briefly wondering about the guards competency as he scaled the balcony with ease.
Once soft, delicate hands had turned rough after training with Athena. Surprisingly it's quite hard to develop calluses when wielding a weapon. However when it comes to woodworking?
It was an entirely different experience.
His hands transformed once again. As if they were carved from stone.
His rough hands allowed him to grip the stone easier as he stepped onto the balcony. A lone figure sitting on a majestic wedding bed.
His palms became sweaty as he felt the calluses on his calluses.
He had learnt the delicate art of woodworking through his sheer devotion. He had learnt slowly. focusing on other furniture first before tackling the challenge.
3 years of dedication to the craft. He may not be a master, but he was quick to learn and he had the will to see it through.
If he had shown his work to other craftsmen, they would have spat on him for his humbleness. Because the mind of the King of Ithaca was sharper than any other man.
The olive tree stood as a testament to his journey in craftsmanship. To his perseverance.
His Magnum Opus.
Now, as Odysseus finally approached eighteen years of age, he felt a rush of pride as he walked into the dimly lit guest chambers.
His hand brushing along the bed frame that he had carefully shaped from the olive tree, a living embodiment of his devotion to Penelope and their marriage.
They hadn't done anything big in their ceremony, no grand wedding.
In fact he had rarely met Penelope for the weeks coming up to his 18th.
Such a thing was Spartan custom.
Instead he slept in the barracks filled with his soldiers, partying and growing closer. And on this night? He snuck out, as all of his men knew he would.
Penelope sat alone on the olive bed, her hair cut short, almost shaven and was dressed in a man's attire.
Odysseus frowned on such traditions, however they were her people's traditions.
Not his.
And he respected that, he respected the Spartan's even if their king was a dick.
He ran his hand over the bark of the tree, the bark that he had shaped through hundreds, perhaps thousands of hours of effort. A bed he had built with his blood and sweat, a symbol of his love everlasting. Only as he got close, did Penelope speak.
"It is beautiful. You truly have made a masterpiece." Penelope smiled softly. Her smile, her voice, her everything is still as beautiful as when they first met.
She sounded nervous.
'She's so cute.' Odysseus' hand covered his mouth, as if to avoid leaking his thoughts.
Odysseus shook the thoughts from his mind, he didn't want to become a caveman at this second. He will leave that for later.
"I missed you. You look beautiful." Odysseus said softly, bringing a bright smile to Penelope's face as even such a simple statement washed her nervousness away.
Perhaps she felt self conscious due to her current appearance?
"This bed is a symbol of our lives. It is where we first met…
It is where we shall unite and it shall be where we grow old.
The only way to remove it now, is to cut it from its roots. Do you object to such a promise?" His heart raced, wondering if invisible chains wrapped around his throat as he waited for her answer.
Whether she would understand what he had asked of her. An eternal unmovable commitment, manifested through the olive tree.
A tree symbolising life and peace. A sacred tree of the God's that shall witness their entire life.
"Only a fool would," she said, a soft smile easing her lips as she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "You are stuck with me now."
"Then I, Odysseus, son of Laertes, vow to thee, Penelope, my queen and my heart. I promise to journey alongside thee, in body and spirit, through storms and sunshine, never wavering for a moment.
I promise to always hold you as my guiding star, my beloved home, and the source of my strength. So that I will return to you, no matter the distance. Always, forever more..." He finished, a bittersweet vow but the best one he could muster.
It was a vow that would withstand time itself, through rains and wind, through blizzard and storm he would always return to her. Always.
In that moment, the world around them faded, and all that existed was the sound of their hearts beating in rapt harmony.
…
Morning broke across Ithaca, sounds of partying only now beginning to slow.
Odysseus stirred under the covers, the essence and arms of Penelope enveloping him. The strong smell of perfume covered the sheets they laid on. No noise could be heard except for the slow sound of breathing.
Sunlight began weaving through the curtains and casting beams of golden warmth upon the chamber.
Turning to his side, he watched her chest rising and falling, the hint of a smile lingering upon her lips.
With every flicker of movement, his heart beat further, recalling the intimate moments they had shared, not even a couple of hours ago.
He watched as her breathing changed subtly as her grip became tighter.
'Was it weird to watch her? Definitely, but he didn't care.'
"Morning, my love," he replied, his grin widening. "I can't tell if it's the sun or your beauty that's blinding."
Her eyes still closed as if she were faking sleep. A deep red hue covered her cheeks as she exaggerated a yawn, eventually propping herself up on one elbow with a smile on her lips.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Odysseus."
"Yet it is my favourite weapon." he chuckled, teasing her lightly. "I believe it made a remarkable impact last night, did it not?"
"I don't think your words were your strongest weapon last night Odysseus. Best to keep that one in your sheathe."
He leaned closer, their noses nearly touching, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That weapon is only for you, I assure you. I would not wield it for any other."
Penelope rolled her eyes dramatically before breaking into a smile. "You are insufferable, but I suppose that's one of your charms. How else would I have let you into my heart?"
Odysseus simply grinned.