Cruel.

That was the only word to describe the situation you had found yourself in, as you look down at a sleeping Odysseus. It was the only word that ran through your mind the longer you thought of his plan to fight in the battle of Troy, to do fate’s bidding as a soldier, Athena’s bidding as a warrior of the mind.

Cruel.

It was a bitter tasting word; it left you wondering if your husband would ever come home. It made the long night stretch into an even longer morning, and when Odysseus finally began to stir, fear settled into your stomach.

“Don’t go.” Was the first plea out of your mouth, as his eyes opened and focused on your face. “Please… don’t go.”

How could Eros be so cruel in giving you Odysseus to love?