Location: Ithaca, Odysseus's Bedroom
Time Remaining: 7 Months, 29 Days
Morning came too soon. They’d enjoyed their time together for as long as possible – mortal men had only so many rounds in them – and then curled up together. At first Adresteia had rolled over and pulled Odysseus’s arms around her, but she’d barely drifted off when a nightmare nearly caused an anxiety attack. Odysseus – tired and sleepy – had been confused, but hadn’t argued when she asked him to switch positions.
It was less awkward than it might have been for most people; even in human form she was slightly taller than the stout man, and she’d easily fell back to sleep with her arms wrapped around his warm body. Odysseus, not having her stamina or energy, slept well past sunrise, but given his status as prince of Ithaca, and his reputation for being a night owl, no one came to disturb them. Awakened by the light of dawn streaming through the window, Adresteia reflected on the ramifications of her decisions.
Given her life up to that point, Adresteia had few happy memories, and most of them were fleeting, at best. This was probably the longest, deepest sense of happiness she’d ever felt. She wouldn’t have said it was contentment - Adresteia’s mind was simply too inclined to wander for her to feel anything so fully – but there was satisfaction. It was liberating to know that she was able to be close to someone in this way. She’d first realized she was craving that closeness many years ago, but feared it was something she’d never be able to have. She’d thought of herself as broken, ruined for the rest of what would be a very long life. But she’d hoped that wasn’t the case, and her affection for Odysseus had given her an opportunity to test that. It hadn’t been easy, or perfect, but it had been pleasurable and rewarding. What Zeus had done hadn’t broken her, or at least, if it had broken her, at some point in the past twenty years she’d been able to fix herself. That thought made her feel freer than she had ever felt. Her story was hers to write; Zeus’s betrayal didn’t define her.
So what now? What would her story be? She ran through countless permutations as Odysseus slept. The number of choices she had were simultaneously delightful and terrifying. She could continue on Athena’s path, working towards Zeus’s downfall. Odysseus had been right – just because she’d started to put some of the trauma behind her didn’t mean that Zeus should be allowed to get away with what he’d done. Adresteia knew she wasn’t his only victim, and in a way, the Olympian was abusing and violating the Greek populace as a whole. Taking him down wasn’t just a matter of revenge, it was a matter of justice, and the belief that the world should be just was still central to Adresteia’s identity.
But even with Athena’s strategies and alliances, Zeus, Hera, and their cadre of Olympians, vassals, worshippers, and monsters would be formidable enemies. If they tipped their hands too soon, or if Zeus played a card that Athena hadn’t accounted for, they could all end up locked away for eternity in the bowels of Tartarus.
Fifteen years ago, it was a risk Adresteia accepted without hesitation, but over time she’d come to think there might be more to life than bringing evil-doers to justice. She’d always enjoyed sunrises and sunsets, and the feeling of the wind rushing through her feathers. After lifetimes surviving on Hera’s gruel and the terror of their enemies, Adresteia had discovered that mortal sustenance could be very pleasurable. And then there was how she felt about Odysseus. Their friendship – maybe a bit more than friendship – was more fulfilling than she could have imagined. The connection brought her happiness, and most humans had multiple connections with others in their lives. If she went against Zeus and lost, she’d likely never have more than this last night to warm her heart, and after a thousand years in Tartarus, even the memories of the feelings she had right now would be gone. That thought made her heart heavy with sadness. But what were her alternatives?
Adresteia could cut and run. She could just pick a direction and fly. She could make a new life somewhere else, or simply explore the globe, meeting people the Greeks had never heard of, and visiting places no people had ever seen. Or maybe she could get a ship, and she and Odysseus could just take to the sea – sail past the Pillars of Heracles and cross Oceanus, searching for a new world just as the Phoenicians had done. She could take him far away from Zeus, and Hera, and Athena, take him to the reaches of the known world where the only dangers would be strange people and exotic monsters – all preferable to Zeus.
She knew Odysseus would never leave, though. He was too dedicated to the people of Ithaca and to his family to pull up stakes and abandon it all permanently. So, she thought, maybe she should stay. She’d laid low for the sake of Athena’s plan, but she didn’t think Zeus would come after her again unless she provoked him. Maybe she could set aside her pride and her desire for justice, and live here openly as Odysseus’s goddess queen. But no… even if she could abandon those parts of her, and even if her acquiring power wouldn’t send Zeus into a rage that would destroy Ithaca, Odysseus was determined to marry Penelope.
With a heavy dose of guilt she wondered how immutable his stance on that was. The two had only met a few times over the years, mostly carrying on their relationship long distance. Penelope was many miles away, seldom more than a letter and a memory, while Adresteia was right here, flesh and blood, in Odysseus’s bed. She didn’t think Odysseus loved her the way he loved Penelope, but she might be wrong. Maybe if she told him she loved him he’d set aside everything else to be with her. Maybe they could make this night last a lifetime.
But that felt petty even as she thought it. Even if she stayed her hand and didn’t ‘feed’ on the wicked, she would still age much more slowly than Odysseus. He would spend the best years of his life – perhaps the rest of his life – with her, and she would eventually move onto someone else. She didn’t necessarily think there was anything wrong with that, but if Adresteia would eventually have to move on anyway, maybe it was better to do so sooner than later, so that Odysseus could be with someone who didn’t have the privilege of near immortality. For the immortal Adresteia, Odysseus could never be more than a passing fling, but for Penelope, he could be much more.
Adresteia didn’t know Penelope and truth-be-told she somewhat envied her, but going out of her way to break the bond between the two mortals didn’t seem just. Whatever else Adresteia may have wanted out of life, her belief in justice and fairness were still central to her being. Her moral obligation to deal with Zeus and others like him superseded everything else.
Unless that changed, Adresteia would have to be content with the small moments like these. She kissed the back of Odysseus’s neck, and smelled his tousled red hair, doing her best to commit the scent to memory.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Odysseus mumbled back, less than half awake.
Adresteia smiled, gently untangled herself from the sleeping man, and disappeared through the window. Goddesses had messy hair and bad breath in the morning like everyone else, but Odysseus didn’t need to know that.
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