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Athena missed Odysseus.
As unlikely, as uncalled for, as unexpected from an immortal and mighty goddess such as herself, one of the twelve Olympians, she had grown soft and attached to a mortal.
To a very flawed, very irrational, very complex, very human man.
Had she been told decades ago, when she’d lain her eyes and set her mind on the child running around the forest with his friends, that she would grow to care about him outside of their lessons and the battlefield, outside of the usual bond between mentor and mentee, she would have scoffed at the idea and reinforced the distance with her pupil. Never again would she be caught weaving a friendship with a being who could carelessly die under her hand.
And yet here she was, flying through the peaceful sky with a tormented heart, to visit this very same man when nothing prompted her to. Odysseus had no war to lead anymore, no battle to give. He didn’t need any more lesson, any more guidance. She would grasp at straws and fickle excuses no longer.
She missed Odysseus, and it had taken ten years of estrangement and a talk with his son to make her say it. He had carved himself a path under her skin despite her better judgment, and she wasn’t cruel enough to deny it now. She wished to see him. She truly did.
She regretted the time she’d lost to her stubbornness, had she realized sooner he wasn’t the expendable soldier she had tried to convince herself—convince them both—he was. Alas. She could only move forward.
A few flaps of her wings brought her closer to the palace she was aiming for. She could see the halls, eerily empty now that the suitors had been disposed of, and hear the bustle of domestic life filling the place instead. Conversations, footsteps, children playing nearby, subjects flocking to tasks and minding their business, soldiers guarding the gates. No one paid any mind to the little owl circling it as she approached.
Argos wasn’t there to bark at her, this time.
She landed on a familiar balcony. Although their interactions were few, she had been observing him far longer than he knew. The path leading her to him was ingrained in her muscle memory.
The door opened almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting. Telemachus stepped out and quickly joined her, a large smile plastered on his face.
“Welcome back!” He said, leaning his elbows on the railing. “I was wondering where you’d been. I was getting worried.”
“The affairs of a goddess are not for a mortal to concern himself with,” she hooted, more out of habit than to chastise him. He sent her a confused glance. “Do not trouble yourself with what lies beyond your comprehension.”
“What?”
“You truly are like him. Overly familiar with the divine, too quick to give me your trust and to worry about me. Your bleeding heart pains me as much as it soothes me,” she sighed, tucking her wings closer to her back.
“Are you saying actual stuff or are you just messing with me…?” He raised an eyebrow at her.
A second of silence while they stared at each other.
“What?” She parroted, bewildered. Was he taking offense at her words?
“I don’t know!” He protested at the inquiring sound. “I don’t speak owl!”
She stared at him for a few more seconds before realizing she had not pulled him into Quick-Thought nor given up her animalistic form. No wonder the boy acted so lost, she was having a one-sided conversation with him. She must not be as rested as she thought.
“Apologies,” she conceded as she took on her human form in a flash of light, immediately towering over Telemachus. “I did not realize you could not understand me.”
“It’s alright, Athena. I’m just glad to see you again.”
He raised his head to smile at her once more, giving a little wave.
“You’ll just have to teach me how to speak bird, I guess. Wait, can my father do that?!” He wondered out loud.
It warmed her heart to see the young man trouble-free, all weariness and stress gone from his posture. Most of his bruises from his fight had completely faded as well. Only three days had passed since Odysseus’ return, and already Telemachus was changed. He was a bright boy when she first met him, but now… he was glowing from happiness.
“No, and he does not need to. We have other means of communication.”
“Cool,” he whistled. “Like that weird time-thing you used on me?”
“Precisely. Although, there is also this simpler thing called ‘talking’. It’s revolutionary.”
“Was that a joke?”
“No.”
Yes.
Telemachus rolled his eyes and turned around, spreading his elbows and leaning his back against the railing. He had the decency not to mention how she’d just failed at merely talking, herself.
Athena observed him before her gaze settled on the horizon. They shared this quiet moment of peace, taking in the slight breeze and the rustles of leaves, away from the rest of the world.
Telemachus drummed his fingers against the balcony in a lazy rhythm.
“Can I ask something?” He suddenly said.
Athena nodded without looking at him.
“Are you okay?”
The question caught her off-guard. She turned slightly, giving him her attention.
“Of course.” She cocked her head. “Why do you ask?”
“Well,” he grimaced, turning his own to plant his eyes in hers. He seemed to ponder what to say, before gesturing at his own face and arms. “You didn’t look like… you know, last time we saw each other… Erm…”
He sighed, his shoulders drooping.
“Sorry,” he ended up saying.
She searched his face in silence, and he squirmed under her gaze. She found nothing but sincere worry and care. Something incredibly warm and fuzzy swelled within her.
“Yes, little wolf. I’m alright,” she reassured him. "I had my own battle to fight, I got a bit hurt, but I won and it’s all that matters to me. I’m still immortal, these injuries will heal and mean nothing in the grander scheme of things. Don’t fret.”
It is only fair, after everything.
“Okay,” Telemachus said, but he still looked unconvinced. He hesitated a moment, biting his lips, before dropping the subject and going back to their silent observation.
He never asked what she was doing here, but she figured it was time to rip the bandaid and reveal the real reason behind her visit. As much as she was enjoying his company, she was aware she was only delaying the inevitable.
“Have you been well?” She asked him in return, treading the waters.
He nodded distractedly, but a small smile broke on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Father’s finally home, and it’s all I’ve ever dreamt of. But it feels weird. But I’m happy to have him back. We cried a lot. I have no idea what to say to him and yet I wanna talk to him for hours. I don’t know how to feel, honestly.”
He let out a laugh and scratched at his hair. She pretended not to notice the way his voice wavered slightly at the end.
“That’s good. You’ll get there.” She resisted the urge to clear her throat. “How is he?”
“As good as he can be, I guess.” Telemachus shrugged, his smile dimming. “It’s… rough for him, being back, but he hasn’t talked to us about it yet. I don’t want to push him. It’s a lot even for me.”
Athena gravely nodded, registering the words. They didn’t completely shut her worry down, but they at least confirmed her old student’s wellbeing. She never expected him to easily bounce back from all he endured. Hearing he was physically fine was all she could ask for. All she wanted and deserved to know.
“Understandable. I’m sure he will open up once the time feels right.”
“Kicking those suitors’ ass probably helped, though. I mean, getting to punch Antinuous was the most cathartic opportunity I’ve ever gotten thanks to you, and he dealt with all of them as if he was swatting mere bugs out of his way. I can’t even imagine how impressive you were on the battlefield when you were fighting side by side…”
Telemachus trailed off, his voice growing quieter the further he got side-tracked into tales delivered onto him. Athena hummed, not quite willing to revive those memories of a time that was no more.
“Wait, that’s right!” He suddenly straightened, clapping his hands on the stone he was laying against. “I think Mom told me you were childhood friends, weren’t you? Don’t waste your time with me then! I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. He’s inside.”
Oh.
Oh, no.
This was not part of the plan.
No, just because she wanted to see him didn’t mean she wanted to interact with him. The tiny pieces of information she got from Telemachus could very well do for a while. The last thing she wanted was to interfere in Odysseus’ long-awaited reunion, and she doubted seeing her would do him any good given the way they parted.
Actually, this would be terrible.
“There’s no need, child,” she quickly shut the idea down, not even correcting him on the ‘childhood friend’ claim. Telemachus raised his head in alarm. She started again, softening her tone. “Let’s not bother him. He has much catching up to do and there is no place in it for an old mentor such as myself.”
“Why not?” Gone was his smile, incomprehension filling his expression instead. “You’re important to him. Why would he not want you here?”
Athena winced and tightened her lips, the growing shame she had carried all this time preventing her from explaining the situation. What do you say to the child of the man whose life you helped destroy? Yeah, I pushed him too hard right when his best friend died and abandoned him when he needed me most? I knowingly left him to fend for himself against monsters and deities to teach him a lesson? But all is forgiven because he endured it and survived, right? Of course she couldn’t have known what dangers awaited him, but she still knew that by leaving him behind, she was placing his destiny back in his mortal hands. She was ripping her protection away from him for showing human emotions and disobeying her, over one mistake. She had metaphorically kicked him while he was down, and as he yelled at her with all the hubris he possessed, she’d refused to hear the hurt and fear behind his words that struck true and dug deep.
Just like him, her own feelings got in the way. Just like him, she burned a bridge she could have crossed. And just like him, she paid the price dearly.
Would this price be enough in the eyes of his family?
She wouldn’t stick around to find out.
But Telemachus was not a dense boy. He was many things; bold and enthusiastic and inexperienced, eager to prove himself and quick to make claims he couldn’t back up, as were most young men, yet he possessed an emotional intelligence she herself felt she lacked. He read people, their feelings and their needs quicker than she could fathom. His gears were turning at her silence, the pieces of the puzzle assembling in his head, a new light shed on their previous talk.
His face suddenly cleared, a carefully-crafted blank canvas of neutrality, and he leaned further back against the railing. Head drawn back, he squinted at the sky, chewing on his thoughts. Athena waited. Whatever he would say next, she would take it.
“I know it’s not my place to tell a goddess what to do,” he carefully started, “but I’ll make a suggestion because that’s what friends are for.”
He sent her a quick glance, probably to ensure she was not about to smite him right here and now for speaking his mind so openly. She prompted him to continue with a nod.
“I don’t know what happened between you and your old friend, but it’s clear it’s still bothering you. So… I think you should find the guy and talk. Friendships are precious, and I find it sad to let it go to waste over past mistakes you regret.”
The man straightened and stepped away from his spot. Instinctively, he checked if nothing was by his legs. His mouth twitched when he saw the path was clear, but he otherwise remained where he stood and gazed at the people walking below them.
It suddenly struck her how lonely Telemachus must have felt. Must probably still feel. He was hiding it well thanks to years of practice, but he’d been a prince living in isolation his whole life, and with the suitors preventing him from leaving his bedroom in peace, he would not have had many opportunities to meet people his age. It couldn’t have been healthy.
It strangely resonated with her, but she buried the thought.
“You told me you have new insight on the situation,” he continued, unaware of Athena’s train of thought. “Wouldn’t it be better to share it with him so things can change? To communicate your point of view? And if he doesn’t want to hear from you still, then at least you’ll know you did what you could. It’s better than sitting around with the what-ifs. That’s what I would do, anyway.”
She hummed, forced to consider the wiseness behind his words. Telemachus waited, studying her expression so intensely her skin almost prickled under his gaze.
Telemachus was right, she should have a talk with him. But nothing said the best course of action was to have that talk so soon.
Nothing said having that talk wouldn’t permanently destroy their fickle link.
Nothing proved to her she wouldn’t hurt him even more than she had.
She sighed, fingers flexing against her biceps, expression guarded.
Telemachus’ gaze grew almost pleading.
Her fingers dug deeper.
“Alright, I’ll look for him,” she relented. Before Telemachus could voice his satisfaction, she clarified, “but this is not a promise. Let me evaluate the situation first, let him have the final choice. There needs to be a time and place for it. Only then, we’ll talk.”
“Hasn’t it been long enough already? I think he probably processed—”
“Goodbye, Telemachus.” She shifted her stance, readying herself to take off into the sky.
“Athena, wait!”
His fingers brushed against her feathers as she transformed and jumped from the balcony, too late to catch her.
She soared high into the sky, taking altitude for the thrill of it, ignoring his cry, then dropped and adjusted her trajectory. The rush of wind drowned out the sound of her thoughts—she refused to entertain any when she was feeling so out of her depth. Yet, she didn’t leave the house behind.
She had a feeling Telemachus would make sure she saw his father and wouldn’t leave her alone until she did. Stubborn child could probably go so far as to drag me to Odysseus himself by sheer will.
So she was going, but she would do this on her own terms. What would be left of her, were the resolve of the Goddess of warfare and wisdom so easily swayed by puppy eyes?
She resumed her initial search. Circled the palace once or twice, stomping down on doubts she could not hold back, ignoring the tremors in her wings and the strain she was putting herself through. She steadied her pace as she followed a painfully familiar path around the palace.
She passed halls and corridors in her search, peered through every window she encountered, checked the gardens, the throne room and the baths without much success. Around a corner, she spotted Penelope conversing with one of her companions. She left before the woman could notice her.
She flew and turned, yet wherever she went, she found no trace of the man. No cape fluttering, no sounds of sandaled feet pacing, no grunts of effort or pensive hums resonated. As if Odysseus had vanished entirely. Training grounds deserted, banquet hall empty, library collecting dust.
His son had claimed he was in the palace, not away inspecting his island or visiting another king, but she was starting to doubt his words. Maybe he had left shortly without notifying anyone?
She was close to giving up and returning to her own domain in Olympus when movement caught her keen eye on her left.
She abruptly turned and paused, hovering while she scanned the tiny room cluttered with old toys and garments. There, on the other side of the wall, she caught sight of long brown hair, of hands calloused by years of wielding a sword or gripping riggings, of a skin exposed to harsh sunlight and salt water.
He had his back to her, fiddling with something she couldn’t spot from outside, but she needn’t see his face to know it was him.
There was no doubt about it.
Odysseus was there in the living, breathing flesh, a few steps from her.
It took her a moment to force herself to move. She landed on the windowsill without a word, folding her wings and leaving him undisturbed. She strained her eyes to catch a glance of what he was holding ; even so, she kept her distance, refusing to cross the threshold and disturb his peace.
Her gaze followed the curve of his arms instead and slid up, then down, then up again, stuck in a never-ending loop of checking him all over again to find every tiny detail; the way he had grown, and aged, and changed.
The last time Athena had seen him, he was on the edge of a cliff, begging her for mercy, pleading for salvation. She had been too scared of seeing him tittering over the edge that she had barely registered anything. Now, she had time to look.
And look she did.
Athena looked at this battered man that once stood, chest puffed out and aching with pride, as her great warrior, her little mastermind, the young king of Ithaca, and—dare she say— her friend. Her aching wounds where the lightning of her father struck twinged in sympathy as she took note of all the scrapes and bruises, the injuries littering his body he could finally tend to now that everything was settled with the suitors. His collection of scars could have been impressive, were it not for his hunched shoulders and light frame.
He was still standing tall, and yet somehow he seemed to have shrunk. A posture which wasn’t entirely due to the passing of years.
Oh, Odysseus. How arrogant, how mistaken I was. How mistaken we both were.
Where had all the years gone? She barely recognized the man she’d taken under her wings. She nestled closer to the window, her sharp talons clicking against wood.
Odysseus whirled around, too accustomed to danger to even relax within the confines of his home. She was just as attuned to what war asked of them, so she didn’t flinch nor cower when her presence became known.
They stared each other down.
She wouldn’t acknowledge it but, deep down, apprehension seized her.
He’d called out to her on Calypso’s island and she had heard his plea, but for all he knew, she never answered his desperate cries. Or worse, maybe he’d felt her watching him then disappear without a word. She didn’t have the strength to accompany him on his journey back after her own battle with the divine. She needed to rest, to gather herself. The time she used to recover enough, Odysseus used it to coat himself in red, both from the thick blood of the suitors and his own. He’d made it home without her. He had no reason to trust her anymore.
She took a breath, sounding like a whistle in her owl form.
Odysseus’ eyes never leaving hers.
Despite being too late, she had come for him to see how he was faring. As much as she wanted to leave him space to reconnect with his son and wife, Telemachus and Penelope, she couldn’t help the worry gnawing at her. The selfish need to see for herself. The battle between reason and heart had raged on for a few long, excruciating days, until she couldn’t hold it in anymore and settled in between. She just had to check on him, quickly and from afar, in and out, then she would leave, without risking to stir up bad memories. Maybe this would be the last time she would come close to him, and she would gladly waste the opportunity to talk to ensure his peace of mind. Leaving him alone would be the final testament of her respect, her own apology.
She hadn’t planned to intrude, to be noticed. She had no words to offer him.
She would have to.
Odysseus’ lips parted.
“Athena.”
Her name spoken from his mouth felt o so bittersweet.
She transformed back in a heartbeat. There was no point in hiding from him when he’d recognized her instantly.
“Odysseus,” she greeted. Golden particles shimmered in the air before fading away.
He tensed as soon as he heard her voice. Athena paused.
She opened her mouth again, but no words came out.
What now?
From Odysseus came no move nor sound. It was like watching a frozen deer waiting for the arrow to find its mark. A rope pulled too tight, ready to snap under the lightest of pressure.
Carefully, she searched his face for a spark of familiarity, a twitch in his eyebrows, relief to see her or anger at her intrusion, anything she could work with. She found nothing of the sort. Odysseus kept everything under lock and key.
She knew the conversation would fall on her shoulders, expected as much, but his reaction—or lack thereof— really didn’t help her find her footing.
“I came to see to it that you had returned to your homeland safe and sound, and to help you should it not be the case. I’m glad to find you in good health. Back by your family’s side.”
She stopped again, searching for her next words, trying to ignore how unnerving the silence was.
“I apologize for not coming sooner. I know these past years have been rough on you, and I am sorry I let it go so far before stepping in… I reflected on our argument while we were apart, and I realized I wasn’t in the right. Regardless of what I thought was the best course of action, I shouldn’t have treated you like this. I shouldn’t have let this animosity fester either, I should’ve checked on you. I can’t erase my mistakes, but I can and am willing to make up for them to the best of my abilities.”
She stepped forward with her head tilted down, divine grace subdued in her humility. Perhaps she could try her luck.
“I am not under the illusion you will ask for my outlook anymore, but I have to ask : do you need aid with anything—anything at all? Just say the word and I’ll be back by your side to help out.”
Odysseus’s gaze slowly detached itself from her face to glue itself on the floor. Seconds turned to minutes. The corners of his mouth twitched. He didn’t need to speak for her to hear the accusations hanging in the air.
The silence stretched between them, settling in the cracks of their broken friendship.
“Very well,” she relented after a while, his mute rejection pouring poison into her metaphorical wounds. Unsurprising, nevertheless. She had foreseen this outcome long before coming here. “I can see you’ve got it settled. You’ve always been resourceful before my interference, and you will be long after it.” Pride tinged her words despite the finality with which they rang. She knew she was doomed to lose this battle. Fighting was meaningless in the face of cold indifference. Clever words wouldn’t bring him back to her.
Wisdom would always clash with empathy, apathy, human nature. The lesson was repeating itself ten years forward.
“For what it’s worth, I give you my blessing a final time, Odysseus of Ithaca. You’ve served me well and it’s time for you to rest, away from me if you so wish. My offer will always stand. Do with it as you see fit.”
The rhythm of her heart settling some, she allowed herself one last look before stepping up to the window. She could feel the kinks in her wings as she stretched them out, warming up for her long and painful flight back.
“There you go, leaving again.”
The quiet admission startled her. It was barely accusatory, Odysseus himself didn’t seem to know which emotion to let through, but it felt like he had just slipped a thousand needles under her skin with one sentence. Athena turned around.
“Why would I stay? You clearly do not want me here.”
“Always making the final call too,” he muttered.
“I let you choose, and you did exactly that. Silence is an answer of its own.”
“And yet you’re the one putting words in my mouth. When did I say I wanted you to leave?”
“When did you say you wanted me to stay?”
Odysseus snorted, an old flame igniting in his pupils. “Oh, that’s rich.”
Her composure did not crack despite the obvious jab. She refused to entertain this petty squabble, their game of pointing fingers had long passed.
At least, he’s finally talking.
“If you neither want me to stay or go, then what would you have me do? What do you want, Odysseus? I am not lying to you. I’ve laid my offer on the table. Take it or don’t, but you have the final call.”
He bristled, his hands clenching at his sides.
“I don’t know, Athena, that’s the thing! I have no idea what I want, but you still ask for an immediate answer without letting me process things first! You mistake indecision for rebellion!”
She pinched her lips and took the blow in stride. So eager to get a response out of him, she hadn’t realized she was stepping all over his feelings again, shaking him for more.
And here she thought she had changed these past years. Laughable.
“I’m sick and tired of making impossible choices,” he sighed, gaze growing distant.
His fingers were trembling.
“There is no catch, I promise.”
“With gods like you, there’s always one—and there’s never been a right answer that won’t leave me hurting.”
Athena could almost see the walls he put up extending right in front of her.
“Don’t see it as a choice then.” She was scrabbling for purchase before he locked himself away for good. “An advice. An opinion I asked for. Talk me through it, I’ll let you speak your mind.”
Let me prove myself to you. Let me prove I have grown, let me prove I can listen.
“I don’t know! Is it so hard to guess why I would be torn about accepting help from my old mentor who discarded me just as fast as she chose me?”
His eyes drilled holes into hers, but she dared not respond. He huffed and turned to the window, as if the sight of her was too much to handle.
“You meant a lot to me,” he mumbled after a bit, his voice dropping considerably. Athena strained to hear him. “But I thought we were done for good. No matter what happened, I never heard from you once. That pretty much sealed it.” She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it before she could interrupt. She had to listen. “And that’s fair, I get it! We went our separate ways, I respect that. You told me the condition tied to your support and I refused it. I chose to handle this alone. I never tried to bother you with my own failures either because I’d brought them upon myself, because you told me so and made it clear I’d bear them all without you. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I thought I’d made peace with it.”
His back to her, she couldn’t see what expressions were battling on his face, though there was no mistaking the tremble spreading to his frame.
“And yet now that I’m done, now that I’m finally home, now that I gave up on you, I turn around and find you here, watching me from behind the window! Coming in and trying to make small talk as if I’m a mere king you’re visiting! Asking me how things are after all this time, what I need, and for what, to offer your help?”
She flinched, shame trickling down her neck. The birth of a laugh sounded in his throat before he aborted the sound to face her once more.
“Gods Athena, I mean, I needed your help years ago. I went through so much alone making all the wrong choices, and now you decide to check up on me when the hard part is over? What did you even expect coming here?” One of his hands buried itself in his hair, frantically pushing it back. “Are you here to taunt me? Test me? To hear that you were right all along?”
“No, I would never mock you.” The idea that she could drop so low was almost hurtful.
“Then why are you back after ten years? Why now? What made you change your mind so suddenly that you—”
“I heard you.”
Three simple words and all the weight they carried within; silence louder than the fall of empires. Athena never cowered. Her words were loaded weapons by nature, dealing blows even when she tried to soften the landing. She knew they would hit—but these ones were needed.
She watched them strike. They dropped on him, dragged him under to spit him back out, his shoulders and mouth and chest slackening as his anger receded abruptly. His world remolded under the light of a new understanding. She could see the dawn.
“When…?”
“When you called for me.”
“When?” He pressed with urgency laced in his tone, fearful to believe her.
“When you screamed on the edge of that cliff on that dreadful island.” She could picture it perfectly — the rain, the waves, the wasted years, Calypso begging for his safety, Odysseus begging her for his safety and so, so close, steps away from the fall. “The one time you asked for my help, I heard, Odysseus. I didn’t ignore you. Had I known, I would’ve whisked you away before you could land there. I really wanted to get you out.”
Athena raised a hand to her heart, face hot and twinging, words colored with rare vulnerability. “I fought at my level. It might not have been enough, but I did all that I could. I’m sorry it took me so long to notice what fate had fallen onto you. I tried to fix my mistake as soon as I did.”
Odysseus’ haggard eyes racked over her, lingering on the golden lightning-shaped wounds carved into her flesh for him.
“H-how…?”
“The ‘how’s’ don’t matter to me. The ‘why’s’ do.” He swallowed hard. “And the why’s,” she continued, “have always been simple. I was the one who made them complicated. I kept you at arms length when I felt you worm your way in, I denied you the bond you wanted to build between us because deep down I was scared of it, and still you accepted my attitude as it was. Yes, you were too familiar with me, you toyed with the natural line between our worlds, but you never disrespected or pushed when I unfairly shut you down. You valued my opinion and showed me more care than any student ever would.You behaved like a friend for years. How could I not grow fond of you?”
His face twisted at her choice of word, but Athena wasn’t done yet. She gripped the chiton above her chest before he could deny her letting go of years of pent-up regrets and frustration.
“I liked to pretend your affection didn’t have an effect on me, but I was lying to myself. The fact that I was trying so hard to draw a line meant I was already losing to you, I just couldn’t admit it. Then I lost you, and I couldn’t explain why I was so upset over it. I figured it was my bruised ego but years passed without the pain dulling and I… I didn’t know what to do to uproot it. I was too afraid and proud to seek you out, but I figured we’d be even if I helped your boy so I could move on. Turns out, he’s the one who helped me.”
She let a chuckle escape. Telemachus had been meddling since day one, pushing her towards Odysseus without ever realizing. She was stuck between two magnets with polar ends — they couldn’t properly reunite without catching her in the middle of it.
“I think… I think I learned I wanted to be more than a mentor to you, too. So, that’s why I did it, and that’s why I’m back today.” She let her hand drop, the fire in her tone and veins extinguished as her speech neared its end.
Odysseus took a stumbling step towards her before stopping again, breaths shallow and face paper-white. He tried to get words out, but each one got caught in his teeth before it could be voiced.
“You can’t… I don’t…”
She gave him a minute to process his thoughts, as he had asked, but it didn’t seem to help. Odysseus was practically panting, working himself into a frenzy. Athena wished she could probe with Quick Thought, resort to familiar grounds to calm him, but she feared it would be unwelcome after all this time.
He supported himself on the wall with one hand, pinching his eyes shut. When he opened them again, she could still detect fear in his trembling pupils. Her hope withered.
“Odysseus… I said my piece and I wish you could say yours, but I want to make clear I’m not forcing you to forgive me and take me back. You’ve let me speak and listened, I can’t ask for more. You can kick me out. Your choice will not change my opinion of you.”
She closed her eyes, steeling herself for one last bout of raw honesty. “You can reject the title of Warrior of the mind and ask me to leave it behind. You’ve made me proud, you’ve done enough.
Of course, I would… I would still like to pay visits to Telemachus, if you’d allow it, but I could keep it to a minimum when you’re here—”
A whine caught her by surprise, eyes flying open to Odysseus’ figure crumpled against the wall, clutching his arms like he was about to keel over and needed the pressure. Worry spiked in her chest. She approached with quick strides, bending over him, hovering, wanting to help but not quite knowing how. Odysseus raised his face towards her; she paused at the sight of tears wetting his cheeks, washing away any traces of anger or anxiety to replace them with anguish.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Odysseus’s hands jerked forward and suddenly she was brought thirty years backwards; she caught hold of a sobbing boy in her arms, grabbing her chiton and pressing his face against her shoulder, burying hiccups and mangled words in her still frame. With shaky hands, she pushed—pushed him against her, not away, pressed him close until she could almost feel the beats of his heart against her skin.
They were hugging for comfort. She was reciprocating.
Her thoughts grounded to a halt. Odysseus was hugging her. She was hugging back. He was here, he was real, he was asking for her like a child would cry for their mother, so far away from being the perfect soldier she raised him to be, and it had never felt so right to hold him like a brittle bird cupped in her palms. She exhaled, the sound oddly wet, but grabbed at her own unravelling composure. Right now, he needed her to be strong.
“I’m sorry, Athena, I’m sorry,” Odysseus cried, trying to breathe in between each sob. “You were right and I was a fool. If only I had listened—”
“I don’t care,” she bit back, crouching on the floor beside him. “I don’t care anymore. We behaved like idiots and we both regret it. It’s okay.”
“W-what I said to you was out of line…”
“Oh, so now you care about staying in line?” She laughed over his back, feeling the tremors against her throat.
He huffed, voice thick with tears but coming out steadier. “Well, your family kinda beat it into me…”
Touché. Not the best joke to make after everything.
Athena grimaced, but Odysseus shook his head in mute acceptance, his hands smoothing out the fabric he had bunched against her back.
“You were ready to leave again,” he murmured, a statement carefully void of emotion. An observation.
“No,” she immediately shot back. “I didn’t want to. I was only trying to respect your wish.”
“Don’t leave.”
“Okay,” she rocked slightly on her heels. “Okay. I will stay.”
He nodded wordlessly. They remained silent, lost in their head in each other’s hold, Odysseus occasionally breaking it with his sniffing. Finally, after minutes that felt like days, years, decades, they slowly detangled their limbs from one another.
“So,” Odysseus cleared his throat, “what was that about you and Telemachus? He never told me you were hanging out.”
Athena could hear the strain underneath his fake cheer, but he was trying his best. She squeezed his arm one last time, a discreet show of support while he gathered the frayed edges of his dignity, before rising, fondness lodged deep in her chest seeping outwards. Odysseus followed suit. “I appreciate his company. He’s a bright kid. A good one, with a commendable heart.”
“Will make a terrible king, then.”
Athena’s fingers twitched. Was she meant to take this as a joke, or was this statement leftover bitterness, a pinch of salt in the wound before turning the last page, closing the book?
“That’s not true,” she stuttered. Dismantling the path of her teachings he had scrapped himself raw trying to follow would take a while, but it was time to remove the first stone. “Not all kings need to be good at war to be capable leaders. I see the errors of my way, and I wouldn’t want to crush his nature under it. Although it wouldn’t hurt him to harden it a tiny bit… I still wish he could’ve landed more hits on those guys.”
Odysseus imperceptibly relaxed, red-rimmed eyes scanning her expression for lies and finding none, breathing the first genuine laugh she had heard from him in over a decade.
“I guess his teacher will have to show him how to pack a good punch,” he smiled.
“Guess so.”
There it was : a pardon and a permission, careful but palatable; an olive branch brandished with stretched arms for her to take without reaching for him yet. The fracture was still there, a wound hastily stitched back that needed to air out before it could scar, but around Telemachus, they could learn how to be okay again. To walk in the same direction at a leisurely stroll, explore their thinned bond and rekindle the old flame.
They had endured the test of time, what was a few years more to an immortal? Her little warrior was home, safe and sound. She knew where to find him. Odysseus had lost years to her; she would ensure he would win them back on his own terms. And he’d taken a step forward to meet her in the middle.
Athena smiled back.
❧
“Welcome back,” Telemachus greeted her as Athena landed next to him the following day, mindful of his discarded scrolls and stretched legs across the steps. It seemed the greeting was there to stay. Quickly taking on her human form,—she wouldn’t be caught making the same mistake twice—, she was secretly elated for the relief it brought her aching wings. In spite of her healing wounds, she was stubborn enough to ignore her physical discomfort over the mental comfort it brought her to fly around; but she had to admit it was getting to be too much in such a short time.
“Did you behave?” She asked to shush any forthcoming teasing, evening the fabric over her own legs as she schooled her expression into a neutral one. Telemachus saw right through her act. Turning towards her, he caught the twinkle in her eyes and smirked, his own softening in response. “Don’t I always?”
“I’ll see it for myself, Prince Overconfident.”
He shrugged before settling back down into a comfortable position, gaze wandering, elbows spread to support his weight. She stayed upright, back straight as a ramrod.
“So,” Telemachus nudged, trying, and failing, to sound casual. “Have you settled your scores with your friend?”
“Quit meddling in a goddess’ affairs, you menace. They say curiosity killed the cat.”
“I’ve always been more of a dog person anyway. No, seriously, you haven’t killed my dad right?”
She rolled her eyes, the very man they were talking about obviously lounging on his wife’s lap a short distance ahead, in the exact same courtyard Telemachus was sitting in.
“He’s buried six feet under. Greeting Charon as we speak. That’s why I took so long.”
“Shame. I bet he’d have loved to see my new sick moves before going out.”
“Such a sharp tongue. I’d say you inherited it from him, but Penelope is another force to be reckoned with.” She dreaded the saccharine, borderline reproachful, never disrespectful talk she would receive from the woman now that she was officially back into their lives. By order of the King. “You’ll be the death of me, you three.”
Telemachus didn’t retaliate. Instead, he tilted his head to let the sunshine play across his face, squinting against it to observe his parents basking in each other’s quiet company. He lingered on his father dozing off, Penelope’s hand tenderly brushing through his locks every now and then while she worked on an embroidery piece, sat underneath an old tree for shade.
“Well, you’re here, and I doubt you’d be if he told you to leave us alone.”
“Very astute.”
“That means you’ve talked. You’re alright.” It was less a question than a certitude.
“We have,” Athena confirmed regardless. “We will be.”
Telemachus nodded resolutely, locks caressed by an occasional breeze. Penelope caught the fluttering end of her himation before it could bother her napping husband.
“Good. I think he missed you.”
Athena joined her hands against her knees, then hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on top. She glanced from Telemachus, serene, vibrant, important, to the man she had mourned, muted, matured, forgiven, present. What a wonder her gaze could hold them both in a single glance.
“I think I did too,” she whispered into the wind.