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Odysseus always feels eyes on his back wherever he goes. It doesn't matter whether Calypso is nearby or not, he always feels her gaze directed towards him.
It started strange during his first week on this island. He would be watching the sea by himself and then he'll feel eyes on him. He would turn around and find no one. This would happen for the next few weeks, but he grew to learn and observe, finding it easier to spot her every time. He tries his best to ignore her, but hearing her soft hums and songs that entrance him out of his will prevent him from doing so. Later on, he tries blocking them out, but they are only a temporary solution.
However, no matter what he does or where he wanders, she is always there. Even when he believes for a second that she's not there, her melodic voice always appears in the next second, immediately ruining his mood more than it already did in being stuck on the island.
She would always wrap her arms around his neck, leaning her entire body towards him while she talked and talked about what she wanted them to do for the day. Her voice is always chipper and delightful, giving him a calming sensation that he does not like nor enjoy, especially in her presence. Every single day, he tells her he has a wife, and that he is not interested in her.
And every single time, she ignores his protests. It becomes to a point where she demands for him to stop talking about Penelope and he could do nothing but accept, in fear of what the goddess will do to him if he refuses. Although he doesn't say his wife's name aloud anymore, he thinks of her during his waking days and sleepless nights.
He thinks of his wife, Penelope, wondering if she is still waiting for him to come home even after all of these years he's been away. He thinks of the prophecy where another man is by her side and wonders if she has already given up on him. He yearns to be by her side again, to hold her in his arms as they lay on their bed surrounded by olive trees. He yearns to hear her sweet, melodic voice again. The imitations he hears of her voice would nearly reach to the same level as hers, Penelope's voice always softening ever so slightly when she says his name while her hand caresses his cheek.
He thinks of Telemachus, his son, and wonders how he is, while also saddened at not being able to watch him grow up to be a young man. He wonders what his son looks like; wonders if his son looks more like his mother, him, or a combination of both. He wonders what he wants to say to his son when he finally meets him. His mind goes blank when he tries to think of what words to say, his tongue failing him.
He thinks of Ithaca, his home, his kingdom. The kingdom lays there without a king and he worries about the trouble Penelope and Telemachus are going through, but his faith in them is strong enough for him not to think too much about it. He thinks of his duty as a king and his subjects without one.
He thinks of Polites; sweet, kind Polites who told him to greet the world with open arms. He thinks of how Polites always looked at the brighter side, even during the face of the war. He would always be the one who brings hope and optimism to their crew. He thinks of how Polites immediately knew when something was wrong with him and would always comfort him or just be there for him. He thinks of how Polities tells him that he'll be his light when the world around them is dark. He thinks of the day he saw Polities die, his memory in slow motion as the light to his dark fades away when Polites weakly calls out for him before his hand falls. A death he still grieves even when it's been months—years since it happened. His headband is tied around his wrist, but it's battered and torn. It's almost unrecognizable, and it brings him to shame to not be able to care for it.
He thinks of Eurylochus. His brother-in-law. He thinks of Eurylochus' being there by his side, grieving along with him over the loss of their dear friend. He thinks of Eurylochus always being there by his side as his second in command. He wonders where it went wrong between them. He thinks of Eurylochus voicing out his disagreements while the crew could hear them instead of talking to him about them privately. He thinks of him revealing himself to be the one who opened the windbag while he was asleep. He thinks of Scylla's lair, Eurylochus supposed to be one of the six sacrifices until he wasn't by trying to save one of the men about to be eaten by one of the heads. He thinks of the slight relief he felt when Eurylochus lived and shame and resignation. He thinks of his betrayal, his mutiny. He thinks of Eurylochus's expression when he chose to save himself instead of his crew before lightning struck the ship.
He thinks of his crew. He thinks of the six hundred men he was supposed to bring home after the decade-long war. He thinks of the men he lost from the Cyclops, the men he lost from Posideon. Their screams of 'Captain!' as they drown or get crushed by the Cyclops club still haunt him in his nightmares. He is never able to sleep at night without hearing their cries and sorrows. They called him names, they questioned why he gave mercy to the Cyclops. 'Captain! Captain!' They would cry out in his nightmares while their death replayed, unable to do anything but watch as each crew lost their life. He thinks of his crew's faces when they watch their men die by Scylla. He thinks of his crew mutinying against him. He thinks of his men stabbing him behind his back. He thinks of them running toward him, their swords drawn before getting struck by Zeus's lightning.
He thinks of his mother. He thinks of how she waited for him all these years until her death. He wonders when she died if she was alone during her final moments. Her soul in the underworld screams as she waits and waits for his arrival back home. He cannot hold her or reassure her he's there because she is now just a soul wandering in the underworld. He yearns for her to hold him against her chest like she always did back when he was a child. Before he took over the throne and became the King of Ithaca.
He thinks of Athena. He thinks of his former mentor—his friend. The guilt churns in his body when he thinks back to the words he shouted at her and her expression afterward. She looked hurt by his words and she shut him out before he could bring himself to apologize. He wonders what she thinks of him now. Her warning was that he'd understand her lessons someday before she left him. He thinks back to when he first met Athena, being able to lie cleverly to a goddess and instead of being upset about it, she looked at him with amusement and asked for his name. He remembers the lessons she taught him, guiding him as her mentee. He grew into a fine warrior and king of Ithaca due to her guidance. He saw her as his friend, family, and mentor. His cunningness and strategic planning during the Trojan War, with Athena by his side the entire time, led to the creation of the Trojan Horse, which soon led them to victory.
He feels her arms wrap around his neck, bringing him back to reality. He feels her before he sees her.
"There you are, my love!" she croons as she nuzzles her face in his hair while tightening the hold around him like a noose around his neck.
Odysseus frowns in displeasure, never returning the affection as he moves his legs closer to his body to wrap his arms around it. "Calypso," he greets back. His tone is monotone and the lack of affection is clear to anyone who hears it, but the greeting only makes Calypso shine brighter.
"I was looking for you everywhere," she says, her voice lowering close to a whimper. She says false words with her voice sweetened like honey, the words grinding into his ears instead of calming him.
No, you weren't. He intended to bite back, growling. You were aware of my presence all along. You had been watching me while you hid behind the trees as I cried and pleaded to be returned home to my wife and son.
Instead, he hums an acknowledgment as he turns his attention back to the sun setting down. He is close enough for the waves to reach his feet but never far enough to be in the sea. Calypso would always bring him closer to the island if he did so while scolding him.
Her arms are still wrapped around his neck but they lower, slowly trailing to feel for his arms until she holds him by the shoulder. She moves to sit down next to him, the closest she can get to press their bodies together uncomfortably for Odysseus, but affectionate and loving for Calypso. Her head falls on his shoulder and he fights back a flinch escaping his body.
He They watch as the sun sets, the stars slowly appearing in the sky as it grows dark. Light comes solely from stars and the rising moon.
He barely protests what she does anymore. It has been months—years(?) since he washed up on her island after losing the rest of his crew. His hair has grown longer and more disheveled, along with his beard. He barely takes care of himself anymore, losing his sense of reality the longer he stays on this island. His eyes appear tired and aged, with heavy and dark bags beneath them due to sleep deprivation. There's a visible tear-stained track going down to his sunken cheeks. His clothes are still the same all those years ago, but it is tattered and in desperate need of replacement. However, he doesn't accept any of Calypso's gifts when she presents them to him. Little trinkets and a set of clothing that matches hers, along with the freshest fruits on the island.
Normally, she would drag him to stand up as she guides him back to her home. She would make him sit down on the chair while she grabbed his meal. She would sit on his lap, forcing him to eat as she enchanted him in a daze-like state. He is aware and unaware of what happens around him during this time. His mind goes hazy, in an unwilling and helpless state as he watches from afar as she feeds him enough for him to survive but more than enough for the want to puke out everything in his stomach. Afterward, she would caress his face, murmuring affectionate words as she peppers kisses all over his face, slowly trailing down to his neck while her hand was on his chest. Her gaze would travel all over his body, admiration, and love as clear as day while she looked at the scars painting his body.
Then she would get off his lap and make him stand as she grabbed his arm to drag him towards the their bed. This is where he tries to plead with her in his hazy state, pleading like his life depended on it but she would always giggle in response as if he told her a funny joke, calling him a silly man before pressing her entire body against his while her arms wraps around his neck to press their lips together. She would turn his body around, pushing and pushing until his legs hit the footboard of the bed and he fell on the mattress along with her.
Bodies pressed together with her on top of him. He once again pleads not another night of this in his hazy-like state; conscious and unconscious of what she is doing to his body. Calypso would laugh at him, melodic and enchanting yet oh so grating and hurtful to his ears, calling him hers and hers only. Tears would roll down his cheeks while she slowly undressed him as if to tease herself longer, even though she had seen him naked several times already. Then she would grab his wrists, guiding his hands to undress her next until they were both fully unclothed.
Before it fully started, she inched closer to the drawer to grab a rope. She tied his hands to the bed frame in case he ever broke out of her enchantment. His broken pleas and sobs from his hazy state never bothered her before she crawled on top of him with a smile. She would gently hold the back of his neck, pushing it closer and closer until their lips were pressed together. Calypso fully pressed her entire being on him, the entire session lasting for hours until she lay back down on the bed to sleep, her legs spread across him while he slowly drifted in and out of his haziness.
Every time he is out of the hazy state, he is left with the memories of what happened during it and he always fights back a sob. He would tremble as he untied the rope around his hands, covering his unclean and scarred body as he put back his clothes before running away from Calypso, away from her home, his feet dragging his body towards the shore before he would cry and scream. He would collapse, the feeling of disgust and shame overpowering him as he remembered her hands all over his body. He remembered the way his being went inside her and the ecstasy that followed along after removing and inserting in a repeated motion, skin slapping against skin. He would puke out the food he ate, continuing to heave even when there wasn't any more left to release.
Sobs and gasps escape from his lips, hand grasping at his hair while trying to tear it out so he can feel the pain and ignore what happened. It's only a temporary solution, and he knows it, but he can't stop. He feels disgusted with himself for never being able to resist her. To never be able to get out of her enchantment while in a hazy-like state.
He wants to tear himself apart and apologize to Penelope for what he has done, but he also wants to stay away from her so she doesn't get tainted by him. He prays to the gods in his hysteria, wondering if this was to punish him for every wrong thing he has ever done. His every mistake and deed. His prayers always went unanswered.
Sobs, hysterical laughter, and screams are heard for the rest of the night. His entire being shakes and trembles, weak punches to the hard sand while clenching his fists tightly. His knees are buried under all the sand, unfazed by the sand on his clothes. All he could focus on was his throat going dry the longer he screamed, his voice going hoarse and dry, but he didn't stop.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
He is hurting in and out and no one's there for him.
He is stuck on this island until his last dying breath. He is a prisoner to her love and desires.
A chain that surrounded his neck at the beginning of his stay at the island stays and tightens. Her hands grasp his neck with so much love and so much pain.
"Ody?"
He snaps his head towards her, unnaturally quick to his slow movements from earlier when she greeted him. He bristles at the nickname, remembering how Eurylochus referred to him as such while he was trying to convince him not to kill the cattle that later on caused the death of his crew.
He is quickly out of his own thoughts, and he stares at her while his brows furrow. "What?"
Calypso purses her lips into a thin line before she warmly smiles at him. "You were not responding to my questions, love."
Odysseus looks away from her, turning his head towards the sea. The area around them had gotten darker than he remembered and wondered how long he was stuck in his thoughts before being brought back to reality by her. The reality of him still being stuck in this so-called 'Love in Paradise' after numerous attempts to escape from her. Years and years and he's still trapped like a prisoner instead of feeling welcomed as a guest. Days seem to blend and he doesn't remember how long he's been on this island. A part of him fears how long he's been away from his family.
"Odysseus…" she murmurs while her hand brush over his.
Odysseus flinches away from her touch, moving an inch farther from Calypso. He won't be able to go far when her other hand is still wrapped around his shoulder.
"It's nothing," he answers unconvincingly.
"Dearie…" She tightens her hold around his shoulder and he winces. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
"I know," he says while holding his knees closer to his chest. "I was just… thinking."
"About..?" she hums the words, inching closer to him with a smile.
Odysseus frowns. My wife, my son, my friend, my brother-in-law, my crew, my mother, my former friend mentor. "My kingdom. My home."
Calypso giggles in response, leaning her body towards his, and Odysseus has to keep himself upright so he won't fall to the sand. The hand she uses to hold on to Odysseus' shoulder is now used to boop his nose. "You're so silly, love." She leans closer to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You are home."
"Calypso…" He frowns, wiping away the cheek where she kissed it. "This island is not my home."
"Odysseus…" she says, repeating the tone he used. "You are home. This is your home now."
The man's shoulders drop down in defeat. He does not want another argument to happen again. It tires him greatly. Besides, arguments with her usually end with him being enchanted by her. And nothing good ever happens to him when he gets enchanted by her.
Calypso takes this as her victory, clasping their hands together in delight, and startling Odysseus in surprise. She gets up on her feet while dragging Odysseus along with her. While Calypso is graceful with her movements in every way, Odysseus is clumsy with his movements. He stumbles through the sand, putting him off balance. He would have fallen back to the sand if it weren't for Calypso pulling him closer to wrap her arms around his shoulder. She balances him easily, just like all the other times it happened.
"Let us go grab something to eat," she tells Odysseus while leading them towards her home. "I made a little something special tonight."
"What for?" he questions, doubtful of her gifts yet curious, for he is just a man. And curiosity compels a man to explore the unknown.
Calypso pouts when she turns to look at him. A small hmph! as she exhales. "I cannot believe you have forgotten," she said. "Today is the fifth year since you have arrived at my island!"
Her hand twirls around his biceps while she reminds him of the day when he washed up on this island and how long he's been stuck here. His eyes are wide, his body trembling as the information sinks in. He's been away from his family for at least fifteen years. Maybe even longer because he and his men traveled the seas, only losing track of the dates when Polites died because he was the one who liked keeping track of the dates to celebrate any occasion they might have.
He uses his free hand to brush his hair away from his face while feeling his eyes burn the longer he processes the information. Tears do not roll down his cheeks, but his heart is filled with regret, shame, and guilt. Would things have gone differently if he had not chosen his crew and found another way out of Zeus's wrath? Was the sacrifice of his six men at Scylla's lair and the rest of his crew from Zeus worth it if he spends the rest of his days rotting on Calypso's island?
He spirals and spirals in his own mind, thoughts filled with regrets that no normal mortal man would be able to handle.
Calypso is oblivious to his spiral — It is what one would think if you do not pay attention to her. She sees and knows anything that happens on this island. She knows of the nights when Odysseus weeps for his wife and son at the shore where the waves barely touch him. She hears of them when he sleeps. He dreams of nightmares. He is haunted by his crew and his friends. He is haunted by his mother. She desires to alleviate his pain and suffering. She gives him gifts and clothing he doesn't accept. She stays by his side, so he won't be alone. She gives him pleasure every night, wanting him to be pleased and to forget about them.
But Odysseus never forgets. He remembers and spirals to the point she would see him stare at the cliff on the other side of the island or step closer to the sea until the water hits his knees. She takes him away before he ever tries anything, always watchful from a distance.
She cares deeply about him. She loves him with all her heart and soul. Which is why when she feels his body trembling at the mention of the anniversary of his arrival, she falters for a brief second before smiling once again. She's angry that Odysseus remains loyal to a wife who probably forgot about him and left with someone else. Her grip on his shoulder tightens, nails clawing at his arm to keep him as close as possible to her.
She babbles about what she planned for the rest of the night, but his eyes are glazed over. He is seeing something she can't see. She knows he is not listening to her, but she continues to talk to him while dragging him towards the cave.
She knows of only one way to put his mind at ease. Lucky for him, she was prepared for this moment.
She'll make him feel so much pleasure that he can only think of her and no one else.