After Odysseus returned from Aeolus' island, he couldn't get a moment of peace. He was constantly keeping an eye on the bag he got from the Wind God, that had the winds of a storm in it.

Maybe he was just paranoid after everything that happened to them so far, but he could see the eyes of his comrades fall on the bag. He could instantly guess what they felt — they thought he was hiding treasure from them.

On the one hand, he understood. Telling them that the bag he got from a god only had wind in it sounded unbelievable. And they all knew Odysseus was prone to lying, even in minor things. But on the other hand... He was their captain. Their king. He saved them so many times, why can't they trust him this one time?

But he didn't trust his men either. Not on this one. Odysseus stayed up for days, not letting the bag get out of his hands for even a moment. And after nine days, he looked absolutely exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than ever, and he could barely keep his eyes open. he was in desperate need of some rest, everyone could see that, but there wasn't anyone he couldtrust with the bag.

You were there, though. Odysseus knew he could trust you, at least with his mind, he knew, but the paranoi was too much. Even when you were telling him that you can watch over the bag for at least a few hours, he waved you off. “I'm fine, There's only—” He was cut off by a yawn. “There's only a few days until we reach home shores. I can push through.”

He couldn't. But he would rather die than admit that.