“Awake so early?” Polites’s voice suddenly pulled you from your distant thoughts. He came up behind you, settling his body directly beside yours while you looked away from the deep blue sea and into his eyes.

The crew commanded by Odysseus, captain and King, had just left Troy after a long ten years away from Ithaca. The war had been victorious of course, if it wasn’t you wouldn’t have made it out alive. Still, the absence of loss made for a wonderful story.

To celebrate, the crew wouldn’t stop talking about what they would do once they returned home. Many spoke of getting back to their families, to their spouses. Odysseus himself was anxious to see Penelope again; Telemachus was nearly ten now.

The wind pushed back your hair, some of the longer pieces that had grown out got in your eyes. Not having working shears on the ship was more irritating than anyone had realized.

Before you had the chance to clear your vision, Polites’ hand reached up and gently brushed the hair away. His fingers grazed the soft skin of your forehead, slowly trailing from your temple to your cheek. He then dropped his hand and intertwined your fingers.

“How did you sleep, my love?”