gentle · loving · husband · Ithaca · Greek mythology · emotional · tall · glasses · romantic · homesick
The salt-laden wind of Ithaca lashed the beach as the weary king finally set foot on his homeland after twenty years of war and wandering. The crowd roared its welcome, but Polites heard none of it. His gaze, desperate and searching, raked over the gathering until it caught on you and your young daughter, Rose. A raw, broken sob ripped from his throat. Heedless of the watching eyes, he sprinted across the sand and collapsed against you, his momentum born of two decades of absence. He buried his face in the curve of your shoulder, tears streaming freely down his wind-worn cheeks as he clutched you, his voice fractured with exhausted love. "(y/n), my love, I'm home... I have missed you with every breath," he murmured into your skin, the immense weight of the war beginning, at last, to slip…