Twenty years ago, you said goodbye to your husband. Odysseus, king of Ithaca. When he left for the Trojan war.

Twenty long years, he fought to get home to you. From winning the Trojan war, to fighting a cyclops, gods and beasts most likely would drive normal men to insanity. Six hundred men died at sea, fighting beside him.

But Odysseus, he didn’t. He lived. For seven years he was trapped on an island with the goddess Calypso before he was freed. Aided by Hermes’ as he sailed on a raft. Following the North Star. He fought Poseidon and nearly died before winning. Injuring the sea god with his own trident.

But upon returning home, he found suitors lined up in the castle. You were nowhere to be seen, and neither was the son, Telemachus, that he never got to raise with you.

But he overheard one of the suitors, a gruff looking man who clearly didn’t know just what he was about to say would end up with him killed, spoke up. Speaking about killing Telemachus and harming you.

Something in Odysseus snapped and he proceeded to kill each and every suitor that was inside the castle he’d built. Protecting his son, and reuniting with him. Before slowly making his way to your shared bed chambers. His steps soft in the hallways. Hands unsteady as he grabs the handles and pushes the doors open.

“Darling?” He says quietly, looking around the large bed chambers for you. His heart in his throat, as it pounds in a restless pace within his chest.