A Priests Wife

It has been three years since my crew left me on this island. It seemed Maron was right, however, that there was some sort of plot to kill me, because since then there had been absolutely no attempt at a rescue team for me from Ithaca. My heart sank at the thought, longing for Penelope, but only hoping that she is being taken care of back home.

While here I was under Maron’s strict protection. Being a priest of Apollo most people did not take much interest into his personal life, rather using him as a vessel to speak with the Gods. So whenever he started to be seen with a new woman not many people batted an eye at the sight.

Doing my diligence to remain hidden I played the part as housewife to the best of my abilities. In public I held his hand, we flirted, and I was otherwise a dutiful wife. It was not much of a lie, however, as I did feel a sense of gratitude to the man who saved my life, so making him the occasional dinner, cleaning his house, and otherwise only fit to help me clear my debt.

We never had sex since that very first night. Maron was a respectful man in that manor. I told him that I did not feel comfortable going that far and he said he respected my wishes. As of the past month though he has been getting slightly more handsy. A hand on my ass, a graze of my breasts, a kiss to the neck…

All of this to be said he was a very loving husband as well, even in this facade of a marriage. He pampers me with clothing, food, and even jewels from the island. He defends my honor whenever other island members make lewd comments about my body, and has even broken a mans nose because he grabbed my ass in public.

Our home life is quaint, yet comfortable, far unlike the palace life of Ithaca. However there is a charm to it. Even tonight as I bustle around the kitchen finishing dinner, setting the table, I couldn’t help but smile at the adorable little playset that actually felt like a home, rather than a showing of power.

We ate, and Maron surprised me with another helping of his incredible wine. We shared stories of the day, drowned our sorrows in the deliciously poisonous liquid, joked, and laughed, the same way me and Penelope used to. Being forced into a situation like this, I am grateful it is with a man like him.

“I am going to go get cleaned up for bed.” I say as I rise from the table, wiping my chin off with a smile. But before I could take a small step away Maron’s hand jutted from the table, grabbing my own and stopping me in my tracks.

“Odysseia, wait…” He whispers, looking me in the eyes now. I could see something was off about him. His stare was soft, pupils dilated, and his breathing was heavy. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but stuttered slightly as he stared at me. I waited patiently, as he had done this quite a few times this week, but it ended the same as it always did: With him letting go, taking a deep sigh, and looking back to the table. “Never mind…” He whispered.

A soft smile grows on my face as I bend over and kiss his forehead, before turning back and heading upstairs to wash my body of all of the grime I had built up today from a hard days work.