Chapter Text
3,200 years ago Odysseus, the reigning King of Ithaca traversed the ocean, battling friends, foes, and monster on his journey to return home after the Trojan War.
20 Years…
20 years away from his Penelope. His world. His love. His wife. And their son, Telemachus. The son who had been barely a year old before the war began, now a man who had no idea where his father had vanished to on his journey home.
After escaping Calypso’s island, Ogygia, with the help of Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom, and Hermes, the Messenger God, Odysseus found his way home, reunited with his family.
“Oh, my son, look how much you’ve grown. Oh, my boy, sweetest joy I’ve known…”
Telemachus.
“Would you fall in love with me again?”
Penelope.
They were finally together, all the hardships Odysseus had endured had finally paid off. He was finally back in the arms of his loved ones, and he never planned to leave them again.
However, they began to notice that as the years go by, Odysseus no longer changed. He was now 90 years old and still looked exactly the same as he did when he returned home to Ithaca almost half a century earlier. His darling, sweet, Penelope aged as gracefully as he knew she would, even with her grey hair and wrinkled skin, she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Telemachus, at 55, now looked older than his father. When the signs began to present themselves, they asked for aid from their Goddess friend, Athena.
Odysseus was now Immortal, she had informed them. Meaning, he would no longer age or die like the rest of his loved ones. Meaning he would no longer be able to join them in the afterlife.
A hollow feeling hits Odysseus at the memory, knowing that not only was he torn away from meeting his comrades and brothers in arms in the afterlife, but he now wouldn’t even be able to join his wife and son when they one day passed on either.
~<>~
Now, Odysseus sits by Penelope’s side, her frail body slowly failing as old age caught up with her. Penelope closed her eyes briefly, she hated that she would be leaving her husband to suffer for eternity alone.
“I promise… no matter what, I will find you one day…” Penelope’s soft, quiet voice echoes in their bedroom.
Odysseus clenched his hand in his lap, as his other gently takes Penelope’s hand in his; kissing her palm, before whispering, “Then I shall wait however long I have to.” He smiled at her with such a warm expression, it broke her heart. She could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes as they both knew she would not be long for this world soon. She also knew he was trying to act tough for her sake, while breaking on the inside; she hated it, but she knew there was no way to reassure her husband either. He was now immortal, and the pain of never being able to see each other again was killing them both.
With all the strength she had, she gently cupped his face, stroking his bearded face, trying to offer a semblance of comfort before they would be separated once again because of the cruelty of a love-struck Goddess.
Telemachus, who had been sitting on the other side of his mother quietly, gently took her other hand, squeezing it, as he tried not to cry at the heartbreaking sight.
Penelope, with tired eyes, glanced at them both with a soft smile, before whispering.
“I Love You…”
Before her eyes close once again, only this time, they didn’t reopen.
Noticing her stillness, Telemachus gently shook her hand, whispering, “…μήτερα?” (Mother)
She didn’t respond.
Not wishing to believe she was gone, Odysseus whispered, “Penelope?” Hoping and praying to all the Gods and Goddesses out there that his wife would open her eyes.
When the silence stretched on, a sob escaped Odysseus’ mouth; tears he had kept welled inside finally bursting as he leaned forward and hugged his wife’s newly deceased body, whispering prayers, begging for her to come back to him; to not leave his side just yet. Telemachus was no better, he sat there, gripping his mother’s hand, crying.
“Penelope… please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me. I’m not ready to be without you, my love. Not yet.” Odysseus cried.
Outside, on the balcony, neither men noticed the divine owl watching in sadness at the display, wishing she could help her two warriors, but even the Gods cannot stop the fate of a human lifespan once it was determined.
After the death of Penelope, Odysseus felt empty. Soulless, like he was missing a large part of himself. The only thing that kept him from breaking completely was Telemachus, who was grieving alongside him, but Odysseus knew, it wouldn’t be long before his son, too, joined his mother in the afterlife.
One day, even he would perish to that which was his humanity. And how right he was, because not even 5 years later, Telemachus whispered his final goodbyes, readily joining Penelope in the Underworld after falling to an arrow sent by an enemy kingdom while Odysseus was away from Ithaca.
At first, they believed it was barely a wound as the arrow missed the mark and hit him in the arm; however, they soon found out the arrow was laced with poison, and by the time Odysseus returned, Telemachus was reaching his final few days.
“Oh, my boy, sweetest joy I’ve known.” Odysseus softly sings those familiar words, “I’m so proud of the king you have become.” He whispered, kissing his son’s head, watching as Telemachus’ eyes closed one last time, tears silently flowing.
Following Telemachus’ death, Odysseus broke.
Another tale of the brutality brought about by Odysseus began, discussing the massacre of an entire nation, in wake of Telemachus’ death. He had gotten his revenge on the nation who had targeted his son, and he had not been merciful about it.
After all, Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.
It might have been almost half a century since he first learned the meaning of those words, but he never once forgot them. How could he, he lost his friends to that same ruthlessness, and now his enemies had received the same for daring to hurt his boy – because no matter how old Telemachus got; he was his boy; his baby.
But once again, fate seemed to string Odysseus along with the false hopes of keeping his loved ones happy, safe and by his side.
Subsequently, Odysseus made the hard choice of leaving his kingdom, his home. No longer able to live with the constant memories of the loved ones he had lost.
The night Odysseus made his exit from Ithaca, he stared at the wedding bed he had carved out for him and Penelope, symbolising their eternal love. He contemplated for hours on what to do with it. He couldn’t bear the thought of burning the oak that spoke of a promise that had survived and opposed all those who wished to tear him and Penelope apart over the years; but he also couldn’t tolerate the thought of the next person who resided in his castle to sleep in the bed he had made for him and his wife only.
Struggling to find a solution, Odysseus’ thoughts were broken at the sound of a familiar voice.
“I can help you if you wish.”
Odysseus turned around and saw none other than Athena, who he hadn’t seen in years as Telemachus grew too old for her teachings.
“…Athena.” He whispered, voice and eyes blank and hollow, mimicking the emptiness he had felt following the demise of his son.
“Please… Let me help you.” She said quietly.
“What?”
Athena didn’t respond, she just pulled out what looked like an orb.
“What is this?” Odysseus asked after Athena just handed it to him.
Athena glanced over at a familiar portrait of Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus they had had commissioned several years after his return. After what felt like forever, Athena turned to Odysseus with a heartfelt expression, before answering.
“This orb will allow you to store precious objects and keep them preserved for all of eternity.” She began, waiting for him to understand her words before continuing, “It works similarly to my quick-thought, anything you store inside will be visible for you to access should you desire it.”
Looking at the ground, Odysseus whispered, “Why? Why are you giving me something this valuable?”
Athena sighed, “Because like you once said, being immortal is lonely, but at least with that you’ll have something to remember your loved ones by,”
“Like I’d ever forget them.” Odysseus sneered, offended that Athena even insinuated he’d forget about the love of his life and their son.
“I didn’t mean it quite like that, Odysseus, don’t worry. I thought it would be best if you had something genuine of your time with them, rather than simply holding onto memories as a way of remembering them by.” She explained.
“Oh…” Odysseus whispered, a faint smile ghosted his lips, “Then, thank you, Athena. I appreciate it.”
Athena didn’t respond, having chosen to leave already, but Odysseus didn’t mind.
Now, Odysseus had a plan, he used the orb on his oak tree bed, storing it away, leaving a bare wall surrounded by fallen leaves, before he proceeded to make his way through his castle, taking anything he deemed worthy of retaining and placing them in the orb for safe keeping. Once he had completed his task, he prepared for the long journey ahead, hoping to find something to occupy himself with. He glanced back at his castle, the castle he had built for Penelope to safeguard her. He closed his eyes as tears welled up in his eyes at the sight, memories flashing in his mind, his crowning ceremony, his marriage, the birth of his son, drinking with Polites and Eurylochus during their youth, every single happy moment he had shared within these walls. It was both a relief and agony to remember all the people he had loved and lost over the years, but no matter how hard he tried, he would never see them again unless a miracle was to be performed.
Without turning back, Odysseus began his final journey.
A journey of loneliness and longing, one that would last for all of eternity.