Chapter Text
The Man and the Infant
“You have grown old, friend.”
Ah yes, he is quite old, isn’t he?
“And you, my friend, are as young as I remember.”
Such a contrasting scene this was. A former king whose age finally caught up to the stress he felt during his journey and a young woman garbed in war clothing, talking to each other, acting as close as they were decades before.
“...You should be proud of what it has become.”
Silence stretched across the room.
“Pride is not the word I would associate with, my friend.”
After all, he lost so much in his journey home. His best friends, his men, his mother, his empathy, his morals–his time to be with his family . His years of sea voyage–twenty years of suffering–were arduous and there were times where he almost gave up on returning to his family. Giving up the ideology of open arms to make a better world and accepting the fact that ruthlessness is mercy upon oneself in a reality filled with war, wrath, and violence. A fact that helped him reunite with his own and reclaim his throne, ruling the island with his love.
“...Apologies.”
One word was uttered and yet, it conveyed empathy . An emotion that beings, such as herself, found difficulty in comprehending. An emotion that if you asked the old king when he was much younger, a man filled with hope and life, he would be surprised that the woman even knows what it is.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Admittedly, I still haven’t made peace with my past. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pleased with what we have now. You, of all people, should know I’ll always be proud of the man he has become.”
“Of course, he took after you and your wife. The sly little wolf who now leads his own pack after his father passed the crown of Ithaca; the little wolf who fought numerous men to defend the honor of his parents and brought stability after the stunt you two had pulled. Who wouldn’t be proud of him, my warrior?”
“A massacre with my son, who I haven’t seen since he was a mere babe, was a good bonding experience if I say so myself.”
An eyebrow rose and arms crossed, hinting a bit of exasperation to the man’s words.
“I’m merely jesting, Lady Athena.”
The war goddess of wisdom, Athena, sighed as she took off her helmet and placed her spear on the side as she approached the elder. Athena saw the wariness on her friend’s face as he breathed out what could possibly be his final, shuddering breaths and soft wheezes; a struggle to do basic motions of living. The man continued to look out on the balcony of his– their –bedroom, silent resignation and a sliver of anticipation adorned on his aging face, before he directed his gaze to the goddess.
“Do you know she always looked out for this same view for years? Every single day, she said. Waiting for a husband who she wasn’t sure would return to their bed.”
Silence once again greeted the two, but Athena would not need to use her quick thinking to know the answer. For she, herself, was there to witness it all. Weaving and removing, leading and crying, raising and doubting; she was there for all of it. However, for her friend’s sake, she would only respond with a single word–
“Yes.”
“”Died from heart sickness”, the healers said. “The queen mother has been through more than enough during your absence, king father.”, that’s what they say. The day my wife passed was also the day where I died as well, Lady Athena.”
“But you stayed, Odysseus.”
“Indeed, I stayed. Penelope raised our prince as best as she could in a kingdom with no king and a son to nurture with no father around. What more of leading an island on her own for twenty years while being pursued by leeches? The least I can do is to oversee our son until he finally adapts to his role as king. Only after that can I finally be with my love.”
Queen Penelope passed away a decade after Telemachus, their son, was crowned as king of Ithaca. Satisfaction was all Penelope felt as her body slowly wilted away on their wedding bed beneath the olive tree where she first met Odysseus. She finally reunited with her wayward husband and had seen their treasure become a fair ruler, things she had only dreamed of prior to Odysseus’ return. Thus, when she breathed her last, she was glad to live in this world despite the challenges that she had to face in doing so.
Odysseus looked out to his balcony again, watching as the sun set across the seashore and the color of dusk painted the sky. He can feel it, fatigue overpowering his frail body as he stood up and walked towards the bed he shared with Penelope. Athena watched as Odysseus laid himself under the covers, an imitation of a man preparing to sleep and wake up for the next morning, yet she knew that this would not be true for the former king.
“I assume this would be the last I will see of you, Odysseus.” Athena casually said, ignoring the stirring of emotions as she saw the fraying threads of life of her friend, “I would be correct to say that I will not have enough time to bring your son here, no?”
“Correct, I wish to pass on to the underworld in solidarity.” Odysseus rasped as he held his hand over the one with his wedding ring, a sign of comfort of what’s to come perhaps. “May I be a bit selfish to ask you a favor for this old man one last time?”
“You are but selfish, Odysseus.”
“ Athena .”
“Of course, what favor should you ask, friend?”
“You might live forever, so you can make it be. But I’ve got one endeavor and that is to have empathy.” This surprised Athena as Odysseus continued his request, “I will not be a fool and believe that the gods are benevolent nor that you will forgive those who wronged you. Thus, I asked you to understand the workings of mortals, treat those who deserve your kindness and punish accordingly to those who do not.”
Before Athena could ever speak, Odysseus butted in with one last statement.
“And please no more monster turnings but knowing how fickle you gods are, I doubt that will cease any sooner.”
The goddess bristled at the call out but nonetheless promised to uphold the favor as much as she could. Odysseus, ever the cunning man, knew to not make her swear on the oath of the River Styx, aware of the consequences that it will bring forth once broken. A truth that both he and Athena knew.
Night has finally settled as torches illuminated the room alongside the light of Artemis’ moon. Athena gathered her spear and helmet as she stepped away from the soon-to-be-resting place of the old king, giving him space to finally feel at peace. A stinging pain built up in her eyes as she held back the tears in order to look brave for Odysseus. She may lose one of her closest companions, but she was still a prideful goddess, her hubris will not let her allow to show such weakness in the end.
“Goodnight, my friend, and farewell. May Charon led you to Lord Uncle and may his judgement grant you entrance to Elysium. And may your eternal life with Penelope be as fulfilling and peaceful of which you were not granted in your mortal one.” Athena stated her final words, praying for a safe passage for Odysseus as he closed his eyes; letting the lulling sleep of Hypnos overwhelm him.
Those were the last words Odysseus, former King of Ithaca, had heard before he permanently lost consciousness. He had lived for far too long, and he will live in the memories of those who were important to him. And many millennia after his and his son’s reigns, and Ithaca is no more but a ruined kingdom of Ancient Greece, his legacy will live on as if he was still there.
Crying.
Someone’s crying, and the crying was so loud . It’s deafening to hear. His ears were ringing and too sensitive to hear such a screeching sound, was this what he remembered of the underworld?
“It’s healthy baby girl, Ms. Jackson!”
Odysseus can’t understand what was said, words twisted and phonetics unfamiliar to his mother tongue. He didn't understand what was going on. Why wasn’t he being ferried off to the underworld yet? Where’s the ferryman? Where’s the palace of the Unseen One? Why wasn’t he with Penelope already? And what’s with the gods damned screaming–!
“Oh come here, my Anticlea.”
Anticlea. That’s the only thing Odysseus can understand. Why was his mother’s name mentioned and what’s the relevance of it? Was his mother also in Elysium with Penelope? He felt his body shifted as hands passed him from one to another. Wait, why can he still feel his body? He noticed that the crying died down as well.
“Look, Ms. Jackson, Anticlea has stopped crying when she’s in your arms.”
Dread was all Odysseus could feel as he slowly grasped the situation he was in. He heard stories from both his parents and Athena herself, stories of reincarnation, a soul reborn to another body as to give another chance in life. Stories that were apparently true as Odysseus can only do one thing his feeble body can act upon: Odysseus–now Anticlea–cried as loud as she could.