Penelope turned on her heels, smiling at her husband as his gaze stayed trained on the sea. “Swim with me, husband.” She grinned, undoing the ties that sat on her shoulders. Her garments drifted to the ground, leaving her bare in front of her husband.
She waited for his gaze to make its way to her eyes, arching an eyebrow as he did. He groaned, the barest flicker of a smile tugging his mouth. “Ever the clever one, aren’t you?” But his gaze lingered, heavier than words.
“Truly, husband, I am thankful that I have found a man that desires me,” she said with a laugh, calling to him over her shoulder. “It grew exhausting having to impress suitors with my wit and my cleverness.”
The sun had warmed the waves, even as autumn crept closer. The water welcomed Penelope as she took her time, surf crashing around her hips, then her stomach. She stopped as the water lingered just above her breasts, eyes focused on the horizon before them.
She heard him before she felt him, the steady rhythm of feet treading the sand. The sound she had waited a lifetime to hear again. Fingertips dragged slowly up her back, the featherlight graze sending chills across her skin. “My heart,” his voice followed his touch, threatening to drag Penelope under with tenderness.
Penelope turned her head just enough to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a smile as sharp as the sea breeze. “Are you going to swim, or just haunt me like a shade, my king?”
His fingers stilled against her skin, and for a moment, the weight of her words rested between them like a held breath. “A shade…” he repeated softly, his voice touched by something darker, something raw. “Is that what I’ve become?”
She could feel it then, the shift, the fracture in his resolve. Turning fully to face him, Penelope reached for his hand beneath the water, weaving her fingers through his as if anchoring him to her. “No,” she whispered. “You are flesh and blood. You are home.”
The silence between them was broken only by the rhythm of the waves. Slowly, he relaxed into the water beside her, the sea embracing him as her arms soon would. Her hand slipped to his chest, feeling the steady beat of the heart she had woven her life around.
She stood for a moment, searching his face for hints of emotion, but he was stoic under her touch, eyes closed as if in reverence. Penelope shifted, clasping her hands behind his neck. She pulled him into her, holding him close. “You were never, will never be, a shade to me, husband.” Her arms tightened aroundhim. “And gods be damned, you are mine. I spent years holding you in my memory. Now I have flesh and breath… I won’t lose you again.”
“Wife,” his voice was dark. He moved quickly, curling his arms around her frame and cementing her to him. She could feel each plane of his body as they stood, clinging to one another in the ocean.
As Penelope held him in the water, the rhythm of the waves seemed to mirror the steady, rising pulse in Odysseus’s chest. She could feel his breath against her skin, the warmth of his body still familiar but no less precious for the years apart. For all the years she’d spent wondering, lost in time and memory, there was a quiet ache in her now, one that she hadn't known how to quell until this very moment.
He caught her gaze, eyes aflame with an emotion too raw to name, and his voice came out strained, softer than she anticipated. "Penelope," he whispered, his thumb brushing over her cheek, "I've missed this… missedyou. But it’s not just your touch I’ve been longing for. It’s…" He swallowed, struggling to frame the words, the vulnerability of this moment heavy between them. "It’s the chance to finally be with you, without the ghosts of what we’ve lost."
She searched his face, and in his eyes, she found the man beneath the war-weariness. The silence of years fractured, leaving only a rawness that was almost too much to bear.
Her fingers found the back of his neck, steadying both him and herself as she drew him close, her whisper carried by the waves. "Then come, Odysseus. Let us be whole."
He hesitated. Her chest tightened with the sudden, overwhelming desire to kiss him, to finally close the distance that had felt so infinite, yet she'd spent so long afraid to breach. She wouldn’t be the one to cross that line, she would wait for him to push that boundary.
He needed the space, the time, the choice. She wouldn’t take that from him.
“Can I kiss you, Queen of Ithaca?”
The question hung between them like a fragile thread, his eyes waiting, vulnerable, for her response. She didn’t hesitate, her lips parted in a smile that held tenderness and a knowing that they were finally moving past all the uncertainties that had kept them apart.
"Yes," she breathed, "Please."
Her heart stuttered. He closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate, like they were both holding onto each other and finally letting go of the years that had kept them apart. The ocean seemed to quiet around them as their breaths mingled, the lull of the waves paling in comparison to the pounding of their hearts.
When they pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice ragged. "I’ve spent so long being afraid of not being enough for you. But with you, Penelope, I… I can be enough."
And this time, he didn’t wait for her answer. He kissed her again, this time with the certainty that, together, they could be whole.
Their mouths moved together as the waves crashed against them. Time froze, and for a moment, she wasn’t the widowed crone, wasn’t the poor woman whose husband had died at war. For just this time, she could be Penelope, and he was Odysseus, and they could be enough.
His calloused hands traveled the paths of her curves, lifting her effortlessly to intertwine their bodies. She gasped at the movement, breaking away from him. His voice was rough velvet against her ear, the grin playing at his lips both confident and soft. “Undone again, my queen? Your suitors didn’t teach you patience after all?”
Her lips hovered above his, unwilling to leave the safety of this moment. He shifted beneath her, adjusting. “Here?” she breathed as he kissed her pulse point. Her heart fluttered, biting back a whimper. In his arms, she felt untouchable. No gods could find them here, hidden beneath the waves.
“Anywhere,” was his response. Her hips rocked against the taut lines of him, aching for friction. “Always,” he whispered, his breath rough with hunger, his hands trembling with restraint.
Penelope pulled back, desperate to watch his features as they finally closed this gap, crossed this hurdle together. “Always,” she repeated. She couldn’t stop her lips from tugging up at the corners. They would be whole.
Odysseus’ eyes fluttered open, a gasp tearing from the queen’s throat. His eyes were black, no hint of white at all. “Penelope?” His hands cupped her face, rough and warm, his touch the only familiar thing in a world suddenly wrong. “Penelope?” he said again, his voice eons away.
“King and Queen of Ithaca…”
