He couldn’t answer. His tongue had dissolved into dust in his mouth as he looked upon the goddess before him. Her dress reached the floor, cascading down her frame.
“Come,” he croaked, extending a hand out to her.
She stepped forward, the remaining sun’s rays hovered just for her, dust particles floating around, framing her as the center of his world.
As she slid her hand into his, intertwining their fingers, he felt a jolt, the gods themselves solidifying her place by his side.
Once again, they stole away under the cover of the rising moon. They made it out of the palace without being noticed, and into the groves of wild trees just outside of the palace.
Once they passed the tree-line, he tugged on her hand, pulling her close. He guided them backwards, pressing her back into a tree. A breathless laugh escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, never hesitating. “Is this your place, King?” She asked, impatient, eyes searching his.
“No,” he replied quickly, his mouth descending upon hers with a fury. He was careful with his hands, careful not to desecrate a single inch of her. He cupped her face, reveling in the way she gasped against his lips, the way her fingers threaded into his hair.
She arched against him, causing a grin to unfold across his lips. He withdrew from her, only slightly. “I missed you.” He whispered.
“I-” She swallowed, avoiding his gaze as her voice faltered slightly. “I was always here.”
His hands trembled against her face. He could not wait a moment longer. “Hurry,” he said, ghosting his lips across hers quickly before untangling from her. “We aren’t far.”
He guided her through the forest as they wove through the trees, his feet sure on the darkened earth. And then…
There.
At one time, he had dreams of building a home for himself, for his family. Dreams of moving out of his father’s palace, and into one that he had built with his own hands. For years he had worked on the plans, the construction, the builds. But afteryears of loneliness and ruling alone, the idea seemed less and less important to him, less achievable.
A lone olive tree stood in the wash of a half completed home, far from the olive groves that fed Ithaca. It was not meant to be here, yet it had taken root, had grown strong in defiance of the world around it. Grown up in the middle of the palace he had envisioned so long ago.
Odysseus had grown to love this tree.
And now, beneath its shelter, with the only soul he had ever truly belonged to, he knew.
He had been waiting for her.
He stopped, grasping both her hands in his as they stood under the branches. “Here,” he uttered, lost in her eyes.
Without hesitation, he dropped to a knee, gazing up into her golden eyes. The shape of her mouth as she gasped, the way her eyes crinkled with her gentle smile. Everything about her made his heart pound in his chest.
“Penelope,” he started, though his breath trembled with the weight of this moment. “Since the instant I saw you on that dais, standing amidst gods and kings, I knew that my heart would only know agony unless I was yours.
“Beauty was never something I had aspired for in a wife, in a partner.” He grinned as a scowl overtook her features, “But you, my queen, put even Aphr-”
“Odysseus!” Penelope cut him off, clutching his hands in hers.
He grinned up at her. “She should know.”
She rolled her eyes, gently trying to tug him up to stand with her, but he refused to be moved. “Penelope, future queen of Ithaca, today, I promise you my heart, my life, my kingdom. There will be no me if there is no you, dearest.”
He inhaled sharply as she knelt to the ground in front of him, releasing his hands, gently holding his face in her hands.“Odysseus, King of Ithaca,” she whispered into the night, for him and him alone, “I vow to support you, to love you, to stand by your side through every trial, every challenge, every test. I am yours and yours alone.”
He leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly against hers. “I vow today and every day that comes after. Be there thrones, be there kingdoms, be there none of it at all. I am wholly and completely yours, Penelope.”
He moved slowly, capturing her face in his hands. Using the pad of his thumb, he brushed away a tear that had fallen. “Crying, my queen?” he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
Penelope gripped his arms, a shaky laugh escaping. “I just…” her voice trembled, “I never imagined I could cleave to a man I love.”
The smile that exuded from him was radiant. He couldn’t wait any longer. “I’m going to kiss you, wife.” He said, his voice was dark. The word, her title, hung between them, heavy with the weight of promise.
“Then do it, husband,” she whispered back, her grip on him tightening.
