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Ithaca’s shore feels like a dream.
It has been ten long years of war, and the weight of it had blurred the edges of his memories. But they have returned now, all six-hundred men, after avoiding a near misfortune. Eurylochus’s heart leaps in his chest at the familiar voice calling out. He knows who it belongs to before he sees the figure it belongs to.
Ctimene looks as lovely as the day he’d bid her goodbye.
She runs up to embrace Odysseus—his captain, his friend, his brother by marriage—her radiant face glowing with relief and joy of seeing her brother after so long. Ctimene pulls away to allow Odysseus to greet Penelope, and when she turns, her gaze sweeps the returning men before it lands upon him. Her face lights up, her lips parting with a smile so wide that it makes his chest tighten.
She is moving toward him so quickly that Eurylochus barely has the time to brace himself before Ctimene is in his arms, her body pressed against his, her warmth sinking into him like the sun after a storm. He closes his eyes, breathing her in, his hands holding her close as though he might never let go.
“By the gods, Eurylochus,” she breathes, and her laughter feels like sunlight breaking through on a cloudy day. “You’ve finally returned!”
He presses his forehead to hers. “I am home at last.”
Her arms tighten around him, and he feels the ache of the lost years slipping away with each beat of her heart against his chest. It feels as though no time has passed at all, as though they are still the same young lovers who once said goodbye at the shores of Ithaca so many years ago. Now, even as they have aged apart, they are still here, still falling together. He pulls back slightly to cradle her face, looking into those warm, dark eyes that he has ached to see again over their decade apart.
“I have missed you dearly, Ctimene.”
Ctimene smiles in turn. “And I you.”
She presses a kiss upon him, before her hand moves to slide into his. “Now, come. There is a feast waiting for our return—if my dear brother doesn’t devour it first.”
Eurylochus laughs. “Then lead the way, my heart.”
***
Eurylochus finds himself grateful to be in Ithaca.
He misses Same, as his homeland, but Ithaca is where his beloved resides. Moreover, he is fortunate enough to enjoy their reunion in private, whereas Odysseus has the matters of his kingdom to tend to upon his arrival—mainly, showing his presence to ‘encourage’ the suitors that have taken residence to leave. He is certain that his brother-in-law will be doing so as quickly as possible so he can seclude himself with his wife for the night.
Eurylochus sets more wood in the hearth.
It is already crackling with flames, warming the room. Ctimene moves around him with ease, setting out a small feast upon the table in their private quarters—it is a lovely spread of roasted lamb, bread still warm from the oven, figs dripping with honey, and a jug of wine. While they could request it to be set out by the palace help, Ctimene insisted it would be more personal if the moment were shared by only them two.
He does not reach for the feast immediately, allowing a moment to simply watch his love as she takes a seat beside him, to observe the way the firelight plays upon the curve of her cheek, her hair falling loose and untamed around her shoulders. She places her hand upon his, and he thinks of how they had begun courting, so hesitant and clumsy in their initial acts of affection, and the ease upon which it finds them now. For a moment, the world narrows to the simple touch of her upon him.
She pulls back to break off a piece of bread from the loaf, nudging it against his cheek with a teasing sort of smile. Eurylochus is caught somewhere between amusement and affection, and she places it between his lips when he huffs out a laugh. So it goes, exchanging stories of the years that have passed in the other’s absence between bites, offering a bridge back to all the moments that he wished they’d shared before the war. She tells him of young Telemachus, of how he’d grown awaiting his father’s return, and how she’d told him stories of her brother, but also of Eurylochus, for the day they would meet again.
He tells her of the cleverness that had gained them access to Troy, and the terror of a misfortune that might have befallen them on the journey back. They share the lamb while he recounts a cave of sheep that they had believed abandoned, and Eurylochus slides a glass of wine to her while he tells her of Odysseus’s forethought to use lotus that he’d gathered earlier to subdue the cyclops that had fortunately fallen unconscious before any lives had been lost. They had made a quick departure with the sheep to ensure their men would be fed, and made their way to Ithaca with haste.
“And now, here you are,” Ctimene says. “Home at last.”
“With you,” he agrees, pressing a kiss upon her forehead. “Of course.”
She laughs, tilting her face up. “Kiss me properly, won’t you?”
Eurylochus smiles. “As you wish, my heart.”
He pulls her into him, his hands finding the soft curve of her back, drawing her closer as if the distance of ten years had never been. Their lips meet in a slow, deliberate press, and Eurylochus lets the room fade away into the soft light of the hearth, the scent of lamb and figs, of soap and wildflowers and Ctimene, the pleasant warmth of wine and fire enveloping them both. His heart beats steady and sure.
He’s missed this. He’s missed her, so much.
This, he thinks, is what it means to truly live.
Neither are in a rush to break away, but the moment comes regardless.
“Proper enough?” asks Eurylochus.
“Much more like it,” replies Ctimene, her lips curving into that subtle, private smile that always made him feel at him. “I think I’ll keep you now.”
“I have no intention of leaving so soon.”
“So soon?”
“Ever,” he amends.
Ctimene pulls away to laugh. “I will hold you to it.”
He passes Ctimene her wine glass, as he lifts his own in the air.
Eurylochus offers a toast. “To coming home. To us.”
“To us,” echoes Ctimene, eyes shining with affection.