Work Text:
Calypso was lonely. Her island was pleasing to the eye, lovely even, with green trees and sparkling ponds; it was the most gorgeous paradise. Unfortunately, however, it wasn’t alive; she could not talk with it, dance with it, or sing with it. It was alive in its plants and animals, but it wasn’t a living being she could truly bond with.
“Gods, how this exile of mine is deplorable,” Calypso lamented, “Why have I been made a captive on this rich yet mundane island? How could the aid I once lent my father truly equate to this punishment from the gods? The man was a tyrant, surely, but nevertheless my blood.” Calypso groaned as she realized she was once again talking to herself out loud.
“Oh! Curses-” Calypso muttered as she booked it for the coastline. On the sand lay a very haggard-looking man who seemed to have drifted to her island on a shipwreck. She sighed in relief as she felt his body heat and pulse before dragging him back to her cave.
A few days later, the stranger awoke and introduced himself as Odysseus, and that is when Calypso fell in love for the very first time. For the next seven years, Calypso would attempt to woo him into her bed, her home, her life, but he would forever resist her for the love of his son and wife.
His rejection hurt Calypso, but what was more potent was the dread that filled her, knowing that once he left, no one else might have the displeasure of venturing to her island, and she would be completely alone once more. So she dragged out the courtship, making attempt after attempt to convince Odysseus to just stay for one more day at the very least.
Odysseus pleaded with her to leave, but she just couldn’t let him go; there was something special about him. She felt compelled to be beside him, but soon, she realized, her efforts were fruitless. Odysseus could not be won over by her island, her treasures, or her. Later still, she realized her soul did not want him as a husband or a lover; she felt no desire to be bound to him in marriage.
Then, somewhere between the sixth and seventh year, something changed; not Odysseus' answer, but still their relationship. They had unexpectedly become friends, and though she did not have much experience with friendship, she was determined to make that leap into the unknown.
Soon, her efforts paid off, and their conversation was made up of friendly banter and teasing. Calypso felt found, the ache of loneliness in her heart slowly ebbed away with every time they played in the forest, swam in the ocean, dined at meals, and lived together with smiles on their faces. Though no matter how long they played, swan, dined, and lived, the dreary glint in Odysseus’s eyes would only wax, never wane.
Calypso knew this would not last, knew that Odysseus had a family he adored and that his life was beyond the gilded cage that was her island. She would rather have him be happy without her than be with her and miserable; it would be selfish to forever trap him like the Gods had forever trapped her.
“You may depart from my island at the time and date of your choosing; resistance shall not meet you,” Calypso mournfully uttered on the last day of the seventh year. She couldn’t stand to see him leave, see her newfound joy sail away on the winds of the cruel ocean that had always separated her from the world, so she fled to the edge of the cliff where a quaint little wooden bench rested on the rocks.
“Calypso, fare thee well?” Odysseus asked the nymph as he caught up to her, the nymph whose tears were silently trailing down her face. The king sat next to her on the bench she was sitting on and let her rest her head on his shoulder. He held her gently, letting her tears fall freely, before carefully speaking. “What ails you? Is my departure truly provoking you to such distress?” Odysseus asked, voice full of concern, waiting patiently for when she was ready to speak.
“I dread to be on my lonesome once more, the silence repulses me,” Calypso finally says, voice wet with anguish, “I know of the wife and child you hold so close to your heart; however, I feel that but a moment more alone on this acursed island, I shall be lost to madness.”
The two friends sit in a long silence on the wooden bench in the beautiful garden, the ocean across mocking poor Calypso’s tragedy. They hold onto each other as they lament the cruel will of the Fates. Odysseus, however, was a man of action and bolder than most other men.
“Journey with me on the sea, Calypso, for I know a place that will provide the haven you seek from the tempers of the gods,” Odysseus proclaims, standing with a flourish of his billowing, blue cape, a treasured gift from Calypso.
“Are you certain?” Calypso’s voice brightened with every syllable, “Are you truly willing to take me off this wretched island to some new, exciting land beyond the horizon?”
“On my honor. Unfortunately, the means to do so must arise,” Odysseus responds, his voice growing weary as ever, “Athena, the bright-eyed goddess, has abandoned me to the harsh waves that hunt after me. My confidence in the success of our endeavour would be solidified under her gaze. Alas, I am lost to the wills of Neptune and the chaos of the human soul.”
“It looks like you both may need a little help,” a voice utters from nowhere and yet everywhere simultaneously. “Hermes!” Odysseus gasps in breathless awe and optimistic hope.
“Pray tell, have you come to assist us to the island of Circe, freeing Calypso from her long exile? If you please, perhaps in following, after that voyage, you may then deliver me to my own island, Ithaca, in the hopes that I may be embraced by my wife, and restored to my son?” Odysseus asks optimistically.
“All in due time, Ody, but first, make a raft out of alder, aspen, and silver birch, fix it with sturdy rope, and place foodstuffs, water, and supplies for the long journey, enough for both you and Calypso,” Hermes instructs, “Then, you shall embark across the ocean.”
“How can this be? Do the gods not condemn me to my fate, am I not cursed to imprisonment for all eternity for my past transgressions against the prospects of the gods?” Calypso asks with a confused but uplifted spirit.
“You must thank Lady Athena for that,” Hermes grins with mischief, “My half-sister threatened-, I mean, convinced Zeus to give leniency on your banishment so that you may aid her charge, Odysseus, through the danger of Charybdis to get him home. Along the way, to be deposited on the banks of Circe’s island to be henceforth under her charge.”
Hermes lets out a giggle of tomfoolery as he flies off, his golden sandals treading the water till he ascends back up to the Mountain of Olympus to cater to the god-king. Back on Calypso’s island, the human and nymph stare up at the clear blue sky at where the messenger god disappeared.
“Who is this ‘Circe?’ What origins lie behind her?” Calypso questions Odysseus when they break out of their stupor.
“She is a sorcerer and goddess of magic who resides on the island of Aeaea, in a white castle of nymphs surrounded by wilderness with generous amounts of game. She was generous and hospitable to my men and me after our initial encounter with each other, even going as far as to help me journey to the underworld to get prophetic help,” Odysseus explains as he starts constructing a raft.
“And I am to live with her under her regard? A tremendous and tumultuous journey to a land so far away? To be left in a strange, unknown land with people whom I have never once spoken to or seen? An adventure over land and sea with dangerous monsters, careless nature, and unforeseen circumstances? It is everything I have dreamed of and more!” Calypso says wistfully, body trembling with overwhelming emotion. Beside her, Odysseus gave a fatigued sigh, knowing the exhausting routine of seafaring.
They set off in three days time, making good pace through the rapid currents and bone-chilling waves. Calypso is ecstatic during the voyage, whooping and hollering at the birds that flew in the dome of the sky as the raft carried them over the sea-roads.
Aeaea was soon on the distant horizon, as the raft drifted on, Calypso found that the closer they sailed, the more she could see the lush green forests, magnificent waterfalls, and delightful animals. What elated her most, however, was the trail of black smoke winding down to a cooking fire, and as they docked, the sounds of jubilant women.
Their welcome was full of vibrant flowers, delicious wine, and savory food. Calypso was simultaneously overwhelmed and underwhelmed and perfectly content, reveling in the new sensations of life, though used to the sound, sights, and smells, but still craving more. Something satisfying, something fulfilling.
“Well, it seems that our guests have been properly received. How I do so hope you are…pleased, with our hospitality,” Circe announces with flourish as she saunters into the room, her confidence completely captivated by a flustered Calypso. Odysseus brightens at the sight of his friend and cheers his wine goblet with hers.
“Y-yes, I have, I mean, we, yes, we have, I mean, we are, pleased…with you, or well, I mean, with your hospitality,” Calypso flounders through the statement, face becoming more and more flushed with each mistake and stutter.
“Good, you’ll want for nothing here, that I promise you, darling,” Circe smirks as she hands the nymph a wine goblet and clinks them together. “I-I’m sure,” Calypso responds, her usual tact for words betraying her in the most unfortunate time.
“Allow my nymphs to dress you for Ody’s goodbye meal, and then we shall focus on settling you in, alright?” Circe hums before taking a sip of her wine, before completely turning to stroll away, Circe winks at her. Calypso’s heart beats harder than tidal waves as she sees the soft lashes fall seductively.
“I-I, yes, thank you, that would be most favoured of you to do,” Calypso manages to say as eloquently as her failing brain would allow her to. Calypso enjoys the revelry very much, extremely so after such a long exile, but Circe entrances her senses. Calypso sighs as she wonders if the witch placed a love spell on her, as at this point, it was ridiculous how much Calypso couldn’t stop thinking about her.
The night passes in a blur as the celebration carries on. By morning, no woman, plus Odysseus, is left standing straight. They sober up as rapidly as nature allowed so that they could see the clever king off to Ithaca, hopefully evading the wrath of Poseidon.
For his departure, Calypso has been dressed in a white tunic with a lovely golden girdle, golden hoop earrings, golden necklaces, and leather sandals. Standing on the docks at the Ocean’s edge, Odysseus wears a similar white tunic but lacks the golden jewelry and instead wears Calypso’s gift, the rich blue cape.
“Goodbye, Circe, I thank you for housing my good friend here. Calypso, I wish you the best in your endeavours. Whatever they may be, I’m confident you’ll succeed,” Odysseus says in parting before boarding a small sailboat and paddling away on the blue highway.
Calypso finds herself incredibly content with her circumstances for once in her absurdly long life as the following weeks progress. She dines, rests, and bathes with the nymphs that she has befriended. Although no matter how much time passes, Circe and Calypso would continue to find themselves giving looks to each other.
The pining and yearning for the ethereal woman was both delightful and frustrating as she felt her way through foreign thoughts and feelings. Calypso always regretted being unaccustomed to the modern ways of life, but now she cursed and spat at her inexperience. Had she been exposed to the world, would she have had the confidence to approach her most vexing infatuation?
Alas, Calypso was resigned to watch her fixation from afar as she sang and swayed under the moonlight in the never-ending parties of the island of Aeaea. Some nights, Calypso could swear on her centuries that Circe was winking at her, dancing at her, smiling at her. Those nights, she departed back to her room earlier to…think, definitely think, nothing else.
“We’re similar in age, are we not?” Circe starts one afternoon in the quarters she had assigned to Calypso in her castle. “I believe I remember the message of your birth when I was a small child. I assume that would make me your elder by technicality, then, does it not?”
“I behave more composed than you regularly, honey,” Calypso responds with a snort, “I believe I could outwit you in any mental battle.” Circe listens to her boasts, pauses for a second, and a winning, smug grin grows on her face.
“You may act put together consistently, however, I seem to remember you being unable even to speak when you first met me,” Circe responds mischievously, slowly inching towards the bed on which Calypso was peacefully reading before Circe barged into the room to talk to her. It would have been rude had it not been the gorgeous woman she was undoubtedly attracted to.
Right now, however, Calypso herself is unable to focus on that, her book, or anything really, as the witch leaned forward. Their breaths touched, Calypso’s heart beating faster than the horses of Poseidon, as Circe stopped her descent right upon her lips.
The touch was magnificent, more divine than anything Calypso could have envisioned; it was sweet like the ambrosia of the gods, succulent like the feasts of Lord Dionysus, as passionate as the pursuits of Lord Apollo, as thrilling as the bounding of Lady Artemis through the woods on a hunt. Calypso soon found herself pinned to the silks below her as Circe climbed atop her.
“You are a breathtaking sight, my dear Calpyso, from the moment I first laid eyes on you to the days we spent together to this very moment, only awe has filled my thoughts and plagued my heart. Had you the ability to hear my soul at any point of day or night, I fear you would flee out of the sheer expanse of my affection towards you if,” Circe whispers into the ear of a trembling Calypso who had long since turned completely crimson at the advances.
The kisses that followed were heated and messy as Circe took what she wanted from Calypso, who in turn gave her everything. Calypso moaned into the texture of their tongues that rubbed against each other, and the feeling of Calypso taking complete control of her mouth and then some. Calypso’s chin was covered in saliva as her ears burned at the sound of their contact.
Circe then gripped both of Calypso’s hips and raised the legs of the flustered woman to wrap around her waist. Calypso could not find her voice, silenced by the flames of desire and want within her. Calypso lacked any particular care for the loss of her speech as she did not require speaking at all, merely nodding in burning resolve as Circe kissed her bottom lip once more before moving lower.
And lower.
And lower.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Morning came with the most pleasant aches and sores Calpyso’s ever known; actually, she wasn’t aware that something so unassuming as sex could be so satisfying body and soul. Calypso found herself once again blushing as she looked over at her bedmate, slightly jolting as those violet eyes ran over her naked and relaxed yet bruised body.
“Oh my, we certainly had fun last night, didn’t we?” Calypso mused good-naturedly as she leaned into the crook of Circe’s arm that she was resting on. “You’re telling me,” Circe chuckled as she gave a soft peck to Calpyso’s cheek.
The ladies rose as leisurely as the sun, taking their time as there really was no rush on the island to do much but first pickings of breakfast.
They walked down to the meal hall together in clean clothes and bodies, but the nymphs must have sensed something as they gave knowing smirks to each other. Calypso noted them exchanging some money and whispers as they gave furtive glances at the two women.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Calypso was elated as she flounced down the walls, for once at peace, she squealed in delight as she spotted her lover across the distance. She flopped dramatically into the nymph’s hands, wrapping her arms around her neck. Circe, who heard her lovely exclamation, was already ready to catch her playful little bird.
“Hello, my sweetheart, how have you been this evening?” Circe purrs as she delicately places Calypso back on the ground before running her fingers through the goddess’s silky hair.
“Fine as ever, my darling. Tell me, what is set out for dinner?” Calypso licks her lips at the thought of all the delectable food grown and cooked on the nymph’s island.
“Lamb chops, pork roast, fried vegetables, cut fruit…” Circe lists out as they make their way to the dining hall.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Calypso was anxious. She mused and fussed over her truly trivial concerns; however, no matter how much she tried to brush them aside, the thoughts returned without fail.
It was a rather simple dilemma: what if Circe was unsatisfied with her? Calypso was inexperienced and rather timid in new environments; meanwhile, Circe seemed to belong in any background, no matter how foreign.
“What ails you, sweetheart?” Circe asks from behind the couch where Calypso was lounging. Calypso jumped at the sudden appearance of her lover.
“Nothing…though I suppose any day is as good as ever to ask…” Calypso trails off in a mumble, her courage and boldness failing her.
“Marry you? Yes.” Circe half-teased, half-stared through Circe’s soul so intensely the goddess felt she could faint under the gaze.
“No, well, yes, it’s related. I was wondering if you…if I am enough for you?” Calypso’s cheeks burned as she asked the question. She was inexperienced, yes, but not stupid; she could see Circe’s interest in her, however, who knew if she would remain interested or would move on, should Calypso not prove worthwhile.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s all? Let me fix those concerns for you…” Circe advanced on her like she was prey, like she was a tasty morsel to indulge in.
That night, safe to say, Calypso’s concerns were put to rest for good.