“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 faceemotionless, 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 thewrong 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.”
