#Odysseus's little whisper | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katerinaaqu · 28 days

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Continuing from Part 2

Guilt (P3 + Footnotes)

"Odysseus" Meriones approached him, "Are you alright?"

Odysseus winced in pain. He hadn't realized he had clenched his fist so hard that it hurt him. He unclenched it.

"Yes..." he whispered, "Yes, I'm fine..."

Odysseus moaned. That baby...the look at that infant's face...Astyanax was gone...he had given his place to Telemachus. Priam's slain face was Laërtes...mourning Andromache was his wife... He grasped his head with both hands.

"Damn you Neoptolemus! Damn you Helen for starting it! Damn you Menelaus for dragging me into this... Damn you Palamedes! Damn you all! Why should I have taken this blood upon me?! Why did it have to be me?!"

He sighed.

"Polites...I want to be alone for a little while..."

"Do you think that is wise...?" Polites asked with hidden meaning.

"Wise!" Odysseus voiced like an echo, "No, perhaps not but I got tired of being wise for now..."

Polites sighed.

"At least add some water to your wine...please Odysseus"

Odysseus dismissed him with a move of his hand. He wasn't much in the mood for anything at that moment. He knew war wouldn't be pleasant but these events of just one night were taking the cake. He was exhausted; sleepless for two nights and a full day and right now the Sacker of Cities, the Man of Many Ways was terrified. He collapsed again and his tears overflowed from his eyes, wetting the table below. He grasped his wet hair with his fingers as if he was ready to uproot them.

"Gods! Please Athena, please, I beg of you...if you love me...p-protect my son! Let the miasma fall on me! Not him! I-I...I just wanted to g-go home! I just wanted to see them again...my Penelope...my Telemachus...! I-I never meant for this to happen! P-Please...! I beg of you if you love me...p-protect my son! Don't let the gods' wrath fall upon their heads! P-Please...! F-Forgive me! I...I just...I just wanted to go home!"

He couldn't decide what to pray for first... Words cascaded out of his mouth without any coherent way or syntax. He only prayed desperately, wetting with his tears the table. Sun was already setting and Troy was taken...but at what cost...

Menelaus and Agamemnon entered Odysseus's hut one after the other.

"I gotta give it to you, Odysseus!" Agamemnon said, "You WERE telling the truth when you said you could take Troy in one night!"

Odysseus was collapsed upon his chair, looking at them with an unreadable expression to his face. The jug was resting empty somewhere after the feet of his seat.

"Hm..." he hummed, "That's me. I am the trickster, remember? I lie, I scheme and I trick. That is what I do"

Agamemnon raised a brow.

"Are you drunk?!" He asked in disbelief

"One more shame to add to the events of this night..." Odysseus replied bitterly.

"Shame? I do not understand. We finally sacked the city. You can finally go home."

"Home..." Odysseus whispered, "I wonder...what shall I say to Penelope when she asks? Or Telemachus? If he asks 'father what did you do and you were away?', 'I was at war, my son', 'did you fight honorably and sack many cities?'... What shall I say for what we've done...?"

"I do not understand you Odysseus. It was your idea"

"Yeah somehow I do not doubt it..." Odysseus mumbled bitterly, "I was wrong, Agamemnon. This was not what I imagined...what I planned..."

He sighed shifting his position a bit to his chair.

"Priam is dead, you know that..."

"Yeah, like we expected to-..."

"On the altar. On the freaking altar, Agamemnon..."

"Yeah I heard..."

"Imagine that happening to any of us...in our homelands. If one cannot respect the holy laws then what?"

He played a bit with his empty cup.

"Priam murdered on the altar...Cassandra raped mercilessly and now Ajax looks for shelter to the very same altar he dragged her out of, to avoid being stoned to death..." the king of Ithaca rubbed the bridge of his nose, "...death...death and fire everywhere..."

"Odysseus..." spoke Menelaus, "I understand that you are grieving, it was not easy or pleasant but..."

"The boy...he was the same age as my son! Thrown off the wall..."

"Odysseus" Agamemnon spoke again, "I honestly don't understand you. Others would fly from joy with your glory. You had a good plan and it worked. Thanks to you we can all go home."

Odysseus's eyes became bottomless. Even Agamemnon had to lower his gaze against it.

"The blasphemy put us under the anger of gods, Agamemnon. Remember that. Listen..."

Agamemnon seemed like indeed trying to listen something.

"The Trojans are not the only ones mourning. We lost many good men too. We lost Achilles. Or have you forgotten?"

Agamemnon sighed deeply.

"His loss...was tragic indeed" he finally said, "we had our differences but his loss was a great price..."

"Quite so..." Odysseus whispered, "was it really worth it? The price we had to pay to sack Troy?"

He shifted his weight to his chair lethargically. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand for a second. The dizziness bad settled for real in his brain. He leaned his head back again, earning a small cracking sound from his neck.

"And since we are at it, I have a question for you, Agamemnon, son of Atreus, the first among the Greeks... What did the Trojans REALLY do to us to deserve such an end?"

"You're drunk! You don't know what you're talking about!"

Odysseus snorted humorlessly.

"Oh, I am drunk, alright. But I know exactly what I am talking about. And you do too. They took Helen, sure, or at least one of them did. But their real crime against us was that they protected their lands...from us. That's what we would have done as well..."

Agamemnon was ready to speak again but Menelaus stopped him.

"Brother, that's enough"

He then turned ti Odysseus sympathetically.

"Look, Odysseus, I understand that it hurts and I am sorry too that I put you through that indirectly, but please do not melt away. No matter what the actions of others was not your choice."

Odysseus said nothing. He only sighed.

"Will you join us at the games later? You are the hero of the day. Your presence is asked for."

Odysseus scoffed.

"Oh I will be there, alright. I never miss a good party!"

Menelaus smiled sadly.

"Thank you, Odysseus...for everything. I really mean it... I will see you later, when you sober up a little..."

He looked at his friend and added;

"And...we shall mention none...of this" he pointed at him indicating his condition.

Odysseus soullessly nodded as if wanting to attempt some humor.

"Thanks...I appreciate it"

Agamemnon was ready to say something but apparently he decided against it. He only sighed and turned to leave before finally asking;

"Will you come to take a pick from the spoils? You deserve it given it was thanks to you we got in"

The tired king made a dismissive move with his hand.

"No. I'm fine with whatever. Just include me to the next lottery" he replied indifferently

"Are you sure? You deserve a better share"

Odysseus smiled humorlessly.

"Last time I chose and defended my choice, we lost Aias the Telamonian. I think we lost enough for one decade, don't you think?"

It was a failure of attempt for humor and he knew it but Agamemnon only sighed.

"Suit yourself" he said defeated, heading for the exit

Menelaus was about to do the same but apparently something made him stop and turn around.

"Odysseus?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you...truly... You gave me back my honor

Odysseus snorted again.

"With the cost of mine..." he whispered bitterly, "Not that anyone ever thought I had any..."

The king of Sparta, though, shook his head negatively.

"To me you will always be the greatest of all Greeks"

The man who endured all torments looked up and for the first tike a small smile rose to his dry lips. That word of kindness was what he needed for his tormented heart to feel some sort of hope. At least there was finally one who neither blamed him nor glorified him. Menelaus saw his torment and responded. That was enough.

"Thank you..." he whispered

Menelaus nodded his head in return.

"Now rest, my friend. We have a long way before us...we are going home..."

Home...the tormented king of Ithaca thought. Yes, finally they could go home. After 10 endless years they could finally embrace their families. Just few more months of journey and Odysseus could finally go home... All he had to do was to learn to live with what he did... He watched both the kings through his cloudy vision, getting out of his tent and Polites coming back in.

"I am sorry, Odysseus! I couldn't stop them!"

Odysseus dismissed him with a hand gesture once more.

"Don't sweat it, Polites. Stopping a king seems impossible. Gods help us with two!"

Polites smiled softly. At least he would gain some of his humor back, he thought.

"Help me get to my bed, Polites..." sighed Odysseus hoarsely, "I need to rest... I am very tired..."

~~~~

Oh gosh what have I done?! Hehehehe well not sorry...not really! 😆 I hope you enjoyed this ride.

As you see I tried incorporating some of the Epic Cycle to the situation but I did tamper around with the timeliness. The Epic Cycle is a lovely mess anyways and holds many contradictions with the homeric poems but it includes many things.

Now the fragmentary poem Iliou Persis is sven mentioned how Odysseus throws Astyanax off the walls but most sources have Neoptolemus donit and I do agree with those more. Now in Trojan Women by Eurypedes the messenger Talthybius tells Andromache that Odysseus schemed so that her son would be thrown off the walls and that he persuaded the Greeks they couldn't raise the baby. Odysseus doesn't strike much as a baby killer in Odyssey or even the Iliad although he is known for being cruel in his punishments (see the excecution of the 50 conspiring slave girls) but nowhere jn Odyssey does Odysseus refer to that fact even if he does speak of his regrets for other actions of his and if he HAD thrown Astyanax off the walls himself I doubt he wouldn't have made any reference to it so I believe that Iliou Persis should he treated like Telegony when it comes to the homeric poems; a bit contradictory to the homeric epics (unless there is some lost fragment that tells us how Odysseus went on a rampage he could not remember lol 😆 ) so I made a mixture of all the above to show how Odysseus "killed" Astyanax or subconsciously persuaded the Greeks to do it and I added the role of Talthybius here too.

Iliou Persis seems to also be the most violent form when it comes to the Greek side such as that they offer Priam's daughter Polyxene to Achilles's tomb as a sacrifice, thus causing the rage of Athena (I swear the thing was written by a Trojan lol 😆) Eurypedes mentions how Polyxene was offered as slave to Achilles symbolically so she should serve his tomb. I also added the detail of Odysseus trying to persuade Neoptolemus to choose her as his price to speak Andromache but his attempts are a failure.

Drunkenness was severely discouraged in ancient geeece thus the concern in Polites's words when Odysseus uses it as a coping mechanism for the traumatic events of the night. Moreover the Greeks always mixed their wine with water (thus having the modern name for wine in Greek κρασί which comes from the verb in ancient greek which means "to mix") the wine that was not watered was called άκρατον and it was qlmost never consumed unless dipped in bread. The analogy between wine and water depended.

In this story I depict Neoptolemus as somehow a nemesis to Odysseus. Similar to what Agamemnon or Hector were for Achilles. I have no idea why but the idea stuck with me especially since the two are the two candidates for the murder of Astyanax. Somehow I imagined them again as the polar opposites thus the two of them having tension.

Odysseus mentions Thersites who was beaten really badly by him in the Iliad. In other sources it is mentioned that Odysseus has him stoned to death after Theraites attempts treason. In this story Thersites was already dead.

I know that for Palamedes the most famous version of his end comes from Hygenius who writes how Odysseus frames him for treason. However Pausanias mentions from the Epic Cycle that Palamedes drowned at a fishing expedition and that "he believes the murderers were Odysseus and Diomedes". 🤔 somehow I wanted to use a lesser known version plus give a bit room to doubt for instance did Palamedes really fell by accident and Odysseus is guilty for not helping? Or perhaps Odysseus pushed him? Maybe he held him under? Dunno. Leave it to your imagination. I know is not so spicy as the framing story but bare with me hehehe

Talthybius here simply hears "it was Odysseus who planned it" thus sending that information yo Andromache without the rest of the details..

Astyanax uttering a word was totally random. If he were an infant a few months old or almost a year old in Iliad that means he would be around 1 to 1.5 years old when Troy fell so I thought it would be more impactful if the poor baby uttered a word before his end.

The interaction with Andromache was placed there for the dramatics and the impact. When Andromache screams "MY BOY!" I was inspired by the series "The Tudors" when Anne Boleyn laments her final miscarriage (by the way I think Natalie Dormer would make an amazing Andromache!)

The story with Palamedes was also added to make the connection between two mothers and their impact to Odysseus. Plus I thought it would make more sense if Odysseus was furious not only for being embarrassed or that he has to go to war but because Palamedes put his son in danger. (Of course Penelope would be part of that scheme!)

Odysseus refusing to participate at the choice of spoils was just a random detail but as a general rule from Eurypedes it seems that he eats the old Ekavi (Hecuba) as his slave (probably she would be to serve Penelope( so I imagined Odysseus wouldn't want to choose but getting whatever would be lucky for him to further implicate that he wouldn't want anything further to do with the war. He also mentions the incident when Telamonian Aias (aka the great Ajax) went mad when Odysseus won Achilles's armor from him and then he killed himself in shame.

I also wanted to portray the friendship between Menelaus and Odysseus which seems to be really strong since Menelaus always talks with the warmest words for Odysseus.

For further questions and analysis please ask me to the comment section or reblog etc!

I wanna also tag some of my best friends commenters rebloggers etc! Thank you guys! Sorry if I forget anyone!

@loco-bird @aaronofithaca05 @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @fangirlofallthefanthings

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fangirlofallthefanthings · 3 months

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[*pats Odysseus's head* This bean can fit so many emotions in him] Odysseus slammed his bedroom door, rattling the pieces on his chessboard and the writing utensils on his desk. He paced the room, trying to calm himself down, but his chest felt tight, and his hands shook. A lump started to form in his throat, and tears began to collect in his eyes. He shouldn’t cry. He can’t cry! There was no reason to break over something he couldn’t change.

But he couldn’t help it. Odysseus sank to the floor, his emotions crashing into him as he curled into himself.

Odysseus heard a knock at the door, but he stayed quiet. He thought if he didn’t answer, whoever it was would leave.

“Odysseus? Are you ok?”

It was Polites. Odysseus immediately felt his throat tighten in guilt. He pushed him. He pushed his best friend. Odysseus could have hurt him! Why was Polites here? How could Polites be so stubborn to forgive anyone no matter what? He shouldn’t have to. Odysseus felt like he didn’t deserve Polites’s forgiveness so quickly.

“Go away,” Odysseus replied.

He felt the pang of embarrassment. His voice sounded weak and strained. It would be obvious to anyone that he was crying.

“We’re coming in anyway, alright?”

Odysseus looked at the floor as the door creaked open. He regretted not locking it as Polites and Eurylochus entered and sat beside Odysseus.

“I told you to go away.”

“We’re not going to leave you,” Eurylochus said.

“It’s not good to be alone when you’re this upset. You’re so out of it you’re shaking!” Polites added, putting a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry…” Odysseus whispered.

Polites tilted his head. “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” Odysseus said, his voice breaking, “Everything these last few days was too much, and it all felt like it was crashing in on me, and I just… I don’t like her like that.”

“And that’s okay,” Polites said as he put his arms around Odysseus, “It’s no good bottling your emotions like that, alright? You have to tell us what’s wrong if something doesn’t seem right so we can help you.”

“We’re here for you, Odysseus,” Eurylochus said, “We’ll listen.”

“And we won’t think any less of you if you tell us how you feel. You’re our brother, Odysseus. We care about you.”

Odysseus buried his head in Polites’s shoulder and allowed himself to fully let go. He wrapped his arms around Polites tightly, and Polites held him close as he sobbed. Odysseus felt Eurylochus hug him from behind, and the little prince counted himself lucky to have such good friends. He turned into a blubbering mess, barely able to get out words of appreciation between the hiccups and sobs. Polites and Eurylochus held him regardless until Odysseus could pull himself together.

Previous (2) || Current (3) || Next (4) Pt. 1

#tagamemnon #odysseus #polites #eurylochus #greek mythology #the odyssey #epic the musical #midieval au #epic the musical fanfic #greek myth fanfic #char writes #fanfic #adventure awaits

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lyculuscaelus · 2 months

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Ody Does Math

“Good morning, teacher.” sang the kids, faces radiating vitality.

Indeed, it was a good morning. You can hear the larks chanting in the forest, oak leaves whispering secrets of the wind, and see the open fields bathing in the blazing sunlight casted by Lord Helios. Every bit of this scenery was calling for your attention.

But now is not the right time for that. Commented Athena, in her mind. Now is the time for their math class, and none of them can escape this fact.

So she simply nodded to their greeting. So far so good. She gave a quick glance around the classroom. Odysseus, her favorite student, seemed rather eager for the class. He’s doing good as always, Athena thought. Eurylochus, on the other hand, seemed quite unsettled. Curious. Is it because of his homework? Athena wondered. And as she set her eyes on the next student, she called:

“What are you doing there, Mr. Polites?”

She could see his panic alright. But soon as Polites reclaimed himself she heard him say: “Sorry, Ms. Athena. I was just trying to pack this bag real quick.”

“What for?”

“Er, Ms. Athena…I don’t suppose this is the right place to say—”

“What for, Mr. Polites?”

He sighed. “It’s for a friend of mine, really. Today’s his birthday.”

As he finished, Athena caught a glimpse of the mild blush on Odysseus’s face. It wasn’t hard to figure out what exactly was happening here, but she merely said:

“Well, in that case, I might as well congratulate this friend of yours with a ‘happy birthday’. Hope he gets to be a valiant warrior, a warrior of the mind. And yes, you may sit down, Mr. Polites.”

As everybody settled on their seats, Athena quickly chalked a line of Greek on the blackboard. It reads: ΣΤΟΙΧΕΙΑ ΓΕΩΜΕΤΡΙΚΑ (Elements of Geometry). As soon as she finished, she said:

“Welcome to today’s math class, everyone. We’ll begin with a discussion on a simple problem in your textbook. Now, please turn to page 43, and evaluate the problem quickly. I’ll ask for your ideas in a few minutes.”

It’s not hard. Thought Odysseus. Just some simple geometry. You draw a perpendicular BC at point B with half the length of AB, and…

“Mr. Eurylochus, if you may?”

Eurylochus’s hesitation was all written on his face. And his silence was loud enough to speak for his cluelessness. I should help him. However, it’s not my turn. Thought Odysseus.

Athena apparently noticed something. “Mr. Odysseus, if you may?”

“Yes ma’am. You need to draw a perpendicular BC…now we have an auxiliary right triangle ABC, right? Draw an arc with center C and radius BC intersecting the hypotenuse at a point D. Then draw an arc with center A and radius AD intersecting AB at a point, say E. Now E should be the golden ratio point.”

“Good job. Now prove it.”

”Prove it?” now it was Odysseus’s turn to hesitate, but he hoped that he didn’t show it. However, Athena was quick to pick up something…else. “Well,” he started, “all I gotta do is…huh, what’s this bag for?”

A look at Polites was sufficient to explain everything.

“Mr. Polites! You seem quite eager to hand the present out, I see. Why don’t you give Mr. Odysseus a hand, by proving this point E to be the golden ratio point as he claims?”

Polites was eager, alright. He stood up swiftly, and said, “May I have a chalk, Ms. Athena?” After a moment Polites finished the proof on the chalkboard, saving the day. Then Athena complimented both Polites and Odysseus, and the class moved on.

But Eurylochus was uncomfortable with the compliment that Odysseus had received. Geometry is his strong point alright, thought Eurylochus, but let’s just wait till we get to arithmetics.

…

And soon they got to arithmetics. But there were only 10 minutes left for the class. So Athena decided to give a little quiz.

“I have a challenge, a test of skills.” said Athena, “the problem is, are you all ready for it?”

All nods. Ok. “Then let us begin by introducing a geographic fact. This is Troy, 600 miles away from us if you travel by sea. Now suppose that a ship travels at a speed of 5.755 miles per hour without the wind, and it is heading from Troy to Ithaca in full speed, and when it is 2.8 miles away from Ithaca it takes a turn to Temesa, sailing through 290 miles in total, and from there to Aeaea 158 miles away. Suppose the ship sails in a uniform speed, without any wind. How long does it take in total?”

Odysseus could see their expressions clearly. He could see Eurylochus busy doing the calculations, which wasn’t a surprise at all since he was so good at it. I could use a good right-hand man like him. Odysseus thought. And let’s see how Polites is doing. He seems to be struggling with it, which is not a good sign…

But what are you doing, Odysseus?

He had no idea. To be honest he haven’t even figured out how a decimal point works, but he’ll do it anyway, after all he’s a warrior of the mind! What do those miles add up to? 420? 420 divided by 5.755 is…730, right? Wait that 730 looks so familiar…isn’t that twice as long as 365 days? My goddess, that’s a really long time!

“Mr. Odysseus, what’s your answer?” From afar, he could hear Athena calling to him. But this time, there is no more hesitation. He had found his confidence. He knew his result to be true, though somehow he doubted the validity. But he’s gonna answer it anyway, knowing that had it been wrong, the fault was not his at all, but Athena’s. She provided the data, didn’t she? So nothing can go wrong. Just you chill, just you stand, just you answer.

”Ma’am…it’s two long years.”

#It’s 181.6 hours with no storm or tidal wave #He made two different mistakes over the decimal points #see if you can spot them #And the last mistake was about unit conversion #odysseus #epic the musical #fanfic #math #12 long years #somehow i don’t suppose this little nerdy fic can go popular?#Nonetheless I’d still like to nerd out something concerning my data #So I consulted the wikipedia to discover that specific map made by Abraham Ortelius depicting the return journey of Ody #It sets the land of Laestrygonians and Aeaea in the south of Rome #Which means that if Ody was to be blown by the storm from Ithaca in-sight (about 2.8 miles away) all the way back to Aeolia #And from there to the Land of the Giants #he’ll have to take a slight turn to visit Temesa #putting the distance he traveled from Ithaca to Temesa to be 290 miles (I checked the map literally)#Yep the distances are all read from the map of the sailing distance calculator #And the speed of the ship was VMG (5 knots look pretty normal so I picked it)#And by inserting those three mistakes that everyone has potential to make #I get the number cleanly (with some rounding offs ofc)#And isn’t that incredible?#Gosh I’m so excited about this little coincidence

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eldestnightwingsyndrome · 2 years

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I met god in a cornfield.

You’re never supposed to go into a cornfield alone, ‘specially at night. You don’t know how easy it is to get lost. How easy it is to walk for miles before coming out on some empty road you’ve never seen before, unsure if you’re even in the same universe you were in when the evening started.

I’ve never been good at following the rules. Just ask my teachers at school, my hands end up taped to the desk at least once a week ‘cause I won’t stop tapping my fingers. Or I gotta stay late in detention for chewing gum. I’m bad at following rules, so when the sun went down, down to the fields I went. With nothing but the clothes on my back and my high tops with the worn-out laces.

I skipped off my porch, swatting away mosquitos as I did. The kids at school say boys don’t skip, but they weren’t around to tell me that.

It’s too humid out. I’ve been out for a couple minutes, and my clothes were already sticking to me with sweat. It’s humid, but it’s not that hot. Was earlier, but July cools down quick around here.

In the field, I walked forever. The sun went down, and the corn grew taller around me. I couldn’t see anything but corn, not even the stars above me. I just knew they were there.

The stalks were whispering about me. I heard them, though I don’t know what they said. They just stood there and watched me get lost. I think they get it. The need to get lost. They never can, always rooted to one spot.

But then they stopped talking. Got real quiet and real still, just like my teachers or my moms always want me to. I kept going, pushing through the tall plants that kept on smacking me in the face. Then I saw him. I saw god.

It’s funny. Whenever people draw god they cover his face in a big white light. They say nobody can look upon the face of god.

Well, let me tell you. I saw him lying there in the cornfields. He’d been there for a while, all lonely and forgotten. Rotting. Straw was spilling from the cuffs of his sleeves, and the buttons on his overalls were all rusted up. But his face—

The face of god is rough and weathered. The face of god has seen a lot, I could tell. But not anymore. All he sees nowadays is corn and stars. Maybe the moon.

He seemed sorta empty. Like the things that made him god weren’t really there anymore. I woulda thought he’d seem sadder.

I swung god over my shoulder and kept walking. We walked all night, me and god.

God doesn’t talk much. I had to talk enough for both of us. I told him all about me. I talked about school and my dogs, fingers tapping on my leg as I spoke. God didn’t seem to mind. I talked about my brother and my moms; I told god everything I loved so much that I was trying to get lost from. He didn’t even nod his head, but I knew he was listening. At one point, god seemed a little cold, so I gave him my jacket. Well, really, it’s my brother’s, but he won’t mind. God should be warm, I think.

I walked with god for miles and miles. I wondered about him, why he’d been out here in the middle of nowhere for so long. I asked him, and he still said nothing. I asked the corn, but they still wouldn’t whisper, and I was outta things to talk about. I searched around in my pockets and found a stick of gum. I asked god if he minded, and he didn’t say he did.

When the sun finally started to come up, that’s when we found our way outta the fields. That’s when god saw the sun for the first time. I set him up where he was supposed to be. God shouldn’t be layin’ lost; he should be standing tall and proud over everything, right?

That was that. I started to set off, and god stopped me. God stopped me, said nothing, but knelt down and tied my shoes. My worn-out laces in perfect bows.

(Odysseus from Cottonwood Falls)

#basically this is god as a scarecrow as told by someone who isn't christian but grew up in a judeo-christian household #i have this character in my head of a twelve year old boy who goes to church on sundays but like any twelve year old boy #he's just a boy. not really what the church says he is or wants him to be. anyway.#happy end of july y'all #short story #short stories #writeblr #writers on tumblr #k writes #k rambles #greatest hits

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sea-owl · 1 year

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What about a different type of Au!? In Season 1 When Colin is at the Featherington house trying to court marina. what about while he is waiting for his turn a duke or a Visount who Penelope met while helping him out of a situation shows up t court Penelope and while they are talking he make Penelope laugh meanwhile Colin who is supposed to be their for marina is looking at Penelope and the caller and realizes as he makes her laugh that he loves and is super jealous and trying one up the caller the whole time. How do you Think that would go?

Chaos, typical Bridgerton chaos. A scene is about to be made. Colin was already standing next to the seated Penelope waiting for his turn to talk to Marina so he got a front row seat of Marquess Odysseus Rose of Winchester.

Colin first noticed him out of the corner of his eye. The man quietly slipped into the room. Colin would put him around a little bit taller than him, Benedict’s age with Anthony's build and quiet confidence. The man's hair was dark, darker than Colin's own chestnut hair, and scruff along his face. His brown eyes were scanning the room.

“Pen do you know who that is?” Colin whispered to Penelope. Was it a relative of her’s? If not why wasn’t he announced? Who was he looking for?

Penelope’s eyes followed Colin’s line of sight, recognition lighting them once she landed on the man. “That is the Marquess of Winchester, Lord Rose.”

“So not a relative of your’s?” Colin asked.

Penelope shook her head. “No, I assume he is here to call on Marina like the rest of the gentlemen. Odd though, the rumors say he is more focused on his academics than looking for a wife.”

Marquess Rose looked in their direction, as if sensing their stares. A small smile formed on his face as he began to walk over to the pair. Colin noticed in his hands he carried a quill made out of a peacock feather and two journals. One of the journals was plain, something he himself has used before during his Grand Tour, the other was embossed with a floral design.

“Miss Featherington.” Marquess Rose bowed his head. “I had hoped to see you.”

Colin looked back down at Penelope. Again? They’ve met before?

Penelope giggled.

Wait, giggled? Colin found himself leaning back a little. Since when was Penelope this comfortable with some stranger? Colin felt his eye twitch, and his hand slid across the top of the chair until the back of Penelope’s head was unknowingly leaning against his fingers.

“Pen,” Colin said stressing her name. He wasn’t sure if it was to grab her attention or this stranger’s in front of them. Either way he had gotten both. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting your new friend.”

“Oh.” Penelope blushed. So bright, and red. They reminded Colin of his favorite fruit raspberries. “Marquess Rose this is Mr. Bridgeton.”

Marquess Rose turned towards Colin, was he sizing him up?. “Bridgerton? I believe I went to school with your brother Benedict.”

“That sounds about right, you look to be about his age.”

“So you are the third brother?”

It was innocent question, many have asked it before, but something about having a titled lord ask him that in front of Penelope set Colin on edge.

“He’s the traveling brother,” Penelope said.

Colin tried not to flinch.

Something lit up in Marquess Rose’s eyes. “You travel? Have you heard the folktales from the places you travel to?”

Colin nodded, unsure why the marquess would be asking about folktales.

Thankfully Penelope spoke up. “Lord Rose studies different folktales around the world and how similar figures have appeared in different cultures.”

Marquess Rose nodded. “Yes, I am currently focusing on mermaids and maidens of the sea. It’s utterly fascinating how similar and different each part of the world views them and how they came to be.”

A lord and an academic? So he actually has a brain under that pretty head of hair? Dear god, no wonder Penelope seems excited to be in his company. Colin found himself wanting to shoo Marquess Rose off to see Marina already. So what if the marquess showed up last he’s sure Lady Featherington would push him right up to the front if she knew he was here. Maybe Colin should let the lady of the house know someone new was in it.

As if she had a similar thought, and Colin did find it so satisfying that Penelope could almost read his mind sometimes, she pointed her head in the direction of her cousin. “Calling hours are almost over soon. If you wish to see Marina my lord you may want to make your way over there.”

Marquess Rose looked confused, and. . . no. No he was not here for-

“I am sorry Miss Featherington but I am actually here to call on you.”

Penelope’s face flushed again, her eyes darting everywhere but the marquess. “Me?”

Colin felt himself go stiff.

Marquess Rose chuckled. “Yes, you Miss Featherington. I had quite enjoyed your perspective on the sirens from the Odysseys. I had hope that you would take mercy on this lord and share your thoughts on Queen Penelope of Ithaca.”

Rumors say he’s not interested in finding a wife my ass, Colin thought, his grip tightening on the chair.

Before either Penelope or Colin could respond Lady Featherington had announced that calling hours were over.

“Here,” Marquess Rose said handing Penelope the embossed journal and peacock quill. “Write your thoughts in here. I can come back another day for you to share them with me.”

“Lord Rose these are too fine for me-”

Marquess Rose cuts Penelope off by closing her hand around the quill and journal. “They are my courting gift to you. One of many actually.” With that Marquess bowed his head to Penelope one more time before leaving.

Colin and Penelope both stared at where the marquess had just left. Well Penelope stared, Colin glared.

Penelope traced the new quill. “This is the first time someone has came to call on me.”

Colin felt himself bristle. He had. . .came to call on Marina, not Pen. As Penelope stroked the spine of the journal Colin promised himself that the Marquess would not be the only caller Pen had tomorrow.

“What are you doing?” Benedict asked.

Colin was surrounded by books, looking as if he was on a mad quest to find the right one. In one hand he held the story of Eros and Psyche, while the other held the Odyssey.

“One of your old schoolmates, the Marquess of Winchester, came and called on Penelope today.”

Benedict scrunched up his nose, trying to think back on who this marquess is. “Okay, what does this have to do with you tearing apart the library?”

“He claims he wants to court her,” Colin spat the word, “but when he first arrived he said he wanted to hear her thoughts on the Queen of Ithaca in the Odyssey. Then he left her with a journal and quill, but no book to reference from. Without a doubt he is looking to embarrass Pen just because she is clever and witty.”

Benedict crossed his arms. “Still doesn’t explain the library.”

“I am going to call on Penelope tomorrow as well with a gift of the Odyssey that she may reference and examine,” Colin said. Now getting up from the floor he began placing both books in a bag. “If Lord Rose thinks-”

“Oh you mean Odysseus-”

“HIS NAME IS ODYSSEUS?!”

#so I know nothing and just picked a random title and last name for odysseus #it's fanfiction #we rolling with it #I'm picturing ben barnes when I write odysseus if that helps #today is the day i find out jonathan bailey and luke thompson are 5'11 #luke newton is the tallest of the three at 6 feet #bridgerton #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #odysseus' name was chosen just to mess with colin and thought it would be funny #yes colin is still in denial but tbf he probably needs a wack with a good heavy stick at this point for him to fully realize his feelings #odysseus au #odysseus rose

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boltlightning · 1 month

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Artemis, whose chastity is a running joke on Olympus, who is mocked because she cannot be conquered, derided because she does not care to be dishonoured — the gods in their cups forget sometimes how many ways there are to love. I see it in her now, as she steadies the knife of a child who is learning to skin a hare; as she breathes a little more warmth into the hidden campfire; as she runs at Teodora's side by the light of the setting sun, crimson in her hair, freedom in her laughter. She loves, she loves, oh with all her glorious heart does she love; brighter and more beautiful even than Athena's love for Odysseus, hotter and more beautiful than Paris's desire for Helen, Artemis loves the women of the wood, her people, her sisters, her heart's kin. She would bleed divinity for them; she would stand naked before snarling Scylla in their name. And yet, because her love is not some sexual thing, because it is not the thing that the poets stroking their beards will make ballads of, she herself does not know it is love. Her joy is not spoken of by the spinners of stories, not sung by the music-makers, and so she does not perceive it even as happiness, as delight. She lives merely in this moment without a name, and will recoil in wounded horror if I whisper the truth in her ear: that she most deeply, most truly, loves.

— claire north, house of odysseus

#bolt reads things #mythology #just wanted to stick this quote on my blog like a prize in my scrapbook #god i love these books

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wild-dagon · 21 hours

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As someone whose LOVE Epic the Musical for years (watching it progress on tictok) and Linked Universe

Let me drag you all down a rabbit hole with me.

Time is Odysseus

He leaves his wife and young son to go and fight in a war

He struggles through all the monsters to make it back home

Malon is Penelope

His loyal wife awaiting his return.

Is constantly sought by suitors who want to marry her and take over Times kingdom/land but she keeps refusing them believing her husband is still alive

Twilight is Telemachus

Times some who grew up not knowing his father.

He grew up hearing stories of his heroic father but has never truly met him.

Wants to protect his mom from all of the suitors and keep their home safe

When he challenges the suitors they literally call him ‘little wolf.’

One of the goddesses can be Athena

Maybe Nayru since she is also the goddess of Wisdom

Or Farore since she is the goddess of courage and has been tied to Link.

Or Hylia herself as Athena favors Odysseus and Hylia favors Link

Saria is Aeolus

A male god in the original myth but sung by a woman in the musical, they are the god of winds and traps all the winds from a storm in a bag so that Odysseus can get home.

However they make it a game sending down little minions to whisper to the crew that the bag is filled treasure leading to them opening the bag and releasing the storm

Ruto is Calypso

The goddess who falls in love with Odysseus and traps him on her island promising him immortality if he stays.

He refuses her and returns home to his wife

Just as Tito falls in love with Link in Ocarina of Time.

Zelda(lullaby) can be either Helen of Troy or Circe

I prefer Helen as that is the woman the men, Odysseus/Time went to save in the first place.

The other Lu boys….

Maybe time left when Twilight was 3/4ish he doesn’t remember him at all and Wild was a baby making them brothers

Maybe Warriors was a boy who fought in the war and knew Time. Or more likely his father did. Maybe that’s who Twilight goes to ask for help in getting ride of the Suitors. He visits Warriors father and meets Warriors. Or heir fathers were Shield brothers making them sort of cousins.

The other boys live in Lon Lon (Ithaca) maybe their fathers were part of Times forces and he takes them in when he is the only one to return home.

It’s a rough idea but it’s bounce around my head for a while

#lu twilight #lu wild #linked universe #lu time #lu malon #malon #link

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smallraindrops-blog · 13 days

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Wake Me From This Dreaming

(part sixteen)

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: graphic descriptions of dead bodies, implied violence, nightmares, some light horror, trauma, no beta

Notes: hi! Thank you to everyone for the love in support, I am not 100 percent sure on how many parts are left, but we are in the endgame now.

Also I posted a short you might want to read before this.

The masterlist

Please heed the warnings.

The smell of wood filled your lungs every time you breathed. Huddled in the quiet dark with your fellow warriors, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wooden horse was a grave.

Odysseus sat across from you, his head bow as Agamemnon whispered something to him. His brother, and Helen’s husband, Menelaus had been quiet since they got inside. There was a hardness in his expression, the gray of his eyes were smothered ashes.

A few souls away from you, Pyrrhus was just as silent. In the darkness, you could see his flaming red locks. There would be a reckoning coming after what could be the final battle. If you or Pyrrhus lived long enough to see the sunrise that is.

Odd how the horse sounded like a ship, the creaking seemed louder than any sound you could make, like a kelpie hissing in your ears. A memory, hazy and faded, returned.

You as a boy, on your hands and knees as you moved your toy horse. Adjusting the legs to make it looked like it was running. Pa smiled as he watched you play. A scroll lying forgotten in his hands.

It seemed like a sick joke. Give the enemy what was essentially a giant toy with a surprise on the inside.

There were so many things that could go wrong. What if the Tojans knew and set the horse aflamed, burning all of them alive? What if- what if- you closed your eyes. If there was one thing you learned in the brutal ten years, there was no place for self-doubt during a battle.

Do or die.

‘The pain of death is but another obstacle.’

’And fear is for the weak’

It was something you and your father repeated together quietly before battle. It was a prayer of some sort. A father telling his son to not fear what could come for them both. it had been Achilles’ own way to comfort you, to say that he loved you.

Your mouth twisted in bitterness, your father had died twice. Once when Pa took his last breath, then once again when he was killed by Paris. The man who started all this.

“I know.” Odysseus whispered. Your eyes snapped toward him. It was hard to see his face in the darkness but you felt the sharpness of his gaze rested on you. “The killer of your father- his brother still lives. You will get your justice.”

“Yes.” You stated quietly. Odysseus was wrong. He didn’t know.

Was there even a point in killing that fool? In any of this? It wouldn’t bring back your Father or more importantly, Pa. Hector was the true murderer of Achilles as far as you were concerned.

Hector was dead. Father was dead. Pa was dead.

it was just you left now.

One of the spies silded out of the mouth, Peros. It was too dark to see his brown eyes but you knew what his expression must be. Grim determination.

Ten long years.

Peros gave a thumbs up before returning to his spot. Just as he did, you heard the sounds of the door of Tory beginning to open. You and everyone else stayed quiet as a shade when the horse began to creak as it was pulled inside the doomed city.

Hell awaited them all.

Once, during the early days of house guard, Hypnos had floated down to poked your cheek with a single finger. Repeatedly.

You scowled, batting the finger away as you realized that the god wasn’t going to accept your attempt to ignore him. For his part, Hypnos didn’t look offended, watching you with a wide grin.

“Can I help you?” You flashed a fake, toothy smile. It usually could scare people off. Hypnos blinked those sleepy, golden eyes and tilted his head like a curious puppy. You hated that it was actually a little adorable.

“When you are training Zagreus, I noticed that you tend to go for his legs or ankles. But not with me. Why?” Hypnos pointed at his own feet, currently hidden by his long chiton.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I am very happy you decided not to break my bones.“ Hypnos said quickly, as if wanting to make sure you knew that. “Please don’t start.”

You debated if it would be worth your time to respond. At the hopeful glance Hypnos gave you, you knew he wouldn’t let it go.

“You’ve seen how quick His Highness moves, right? For him, it is both his strength and his weakness. I doubt very many people could land a hit when he is running and it is clear he relies on it.” You grumbled, thinking over the last few training sessions. “Stop him from moving and he is a sitting duck. It's the easy way to win against him.”

”Ah.” Hypnos tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “And me?”

“What about you?”

Hypnos gave you an unimpressed look, “You don’t attack me like Zagreus. I was wondering why.”

You shifted on your feet. The reasons you didn’t go hard on Hypnos was mainly because it was clear the god wasn’t a fighter. Zagreus could take a hit, you weren’t sure about Hypnos.

Besides, it was highly unlikely Hypnos would need to know how to fight like a warrior.

“Maybe I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” You told him. Hypnos’ mouth dropped open in surprise then he broke into genuine laughter. You shoved down the surge of pride at making him laugh.

”Now I know that isn’t the reason.” Hypnos sighed after his laughter died down. “I guess if you won’t tell me, you got your reasons.”

”If I had to fight youâ€¦” you paused, letting the suspect build for a moment. Hypnos leaned in closer with a grin, playing along. “I would go for a surprise attack. Take you down quick and clean.”

“Why a surprise attack?” Hypnos blinked.

”You said it to Zagrues once during training. Just one snap of your fingers and it’s nap time for everyone.” You said. “Not to mention, you can vanish in a second.”

“Huh.” Hypnos mulled over your words, circling in the air lazily. “You make me sound like I could be a problem.”

”You already are.” You said under your breath, hating that your words sounded a little too fond and caught Hypnos’ ankle when he tried to kick at you. His limb felt delicate under your grasp, like fine pottery that could crack if mishandled. His skin was softer than you expected.

His golden eyes caught yours, wide in shock. His cheeks went redder the longer you and him stared at each other. A knot formed your throat, heat clawing up the back of your neck.

Letting him go after a few moments later, you cleared your throat. Thankfully no one else was around to see you acting like a fool.

“I think I can hear Master Hades calling me.” Hypnos squeaked.

The house was dead silent, not even the sounds of quill marking paper reached your ears. You didn’t point that out.

“Of course.” You replied as he vanished.

A nearby candle flickered as if laughing at you

Slender fingers trailed over the worn leather of the himantes, the paleness of his skin were stark against the dark leather. It felt intimate, like it was his fingers caressing your skin.

Before you might have made yourself look away but not anymore. The privacy of Hypnos’ bedchambers allowed you the luxury to just look at him, to study the ways his short curls fell around his face. The gentle bow of his lips, the fans of his white eyelashes.

You devoured the sight of the beautiful god before you, never wanting to forget this.

Hypnos’ expression was thoughtful as he glanced up at you, “I thought you gave Zagreus these.”

“He got my backup pair, these were the ones I used all the time.” You informed him, taking the himantes back. The leather had been made from a strong ox, giften by your parents for your birthday.

These, along the nectar Hypnos had gifted you, were along your most prized possessions. You had fought and died with these on. Hypnos gave a quiet hum, his eyes lingering on the leather as he settled on the floor, his back supported by a mountain of soft pillows.

You lifted an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Wanna try them on?”

His cheeks darken but he gave an enthusiastic nod. He quickly removed his jewelry along his arms, exposing new flesh. The gold clacked quietly as it fell to the floor.

Hypnos offered his wrists, like a sacrifice. The bones looked fragile, the veins prominent under his skin. His hands remained steady despite the vulnerability revealed by his flesh.

You swallowed, a simmering heat low in your stomach. Ridiculous, how much just seeing that affected you.

With a gentleness that you didn’t know you were capable of, that only revealed itself for Hypnos, your fingers cupped around his right hand, your rough fingers brushing against his soft palm.

His breath hitched.

“Whenever putting this on, always loop around the thumb and start the wrap behind the hand.” You explained quietly as you worked the himantes around Hypnos’ elegant wrist, caressing his warm skin as you moved downward.

“Three times around the wrist.” You whispered, very aware of the nervous flutter of Hypnos’ pulse. “Then the same for the hand and knuckles.”

Then you placed his wrapped hand down and began on the other one. Once you were done, you took a moment to admire your work. A deep feeling of possessive satisfaction surged in your chest at the sight of your himantes wrapped around Hypnos’s hands.

Hypnos flexed his fingers curiously, then wiggled them with a laugh. “This feels so weird. But also like maybe I could take on a whole army.”

You chuckled, leaning back on your hands. “Try making a fist.”

He obeyed, at first it was incorrect with his thumb tucked in. At the click of your tongue, he corrected it.

“Remember. Always inside-“

“Or end up with a broken thumb.” Hypnos finished with an amused eye roll, punching the air. It was one of the many things you had regularly reminded him of.

Hypnos glanced at you, a glint of mischief bright in his eyes. A slight devilish curl to his smile. You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent dare.

At his first swing, you blocked his fist with a forearm, smirking at his annoyed gasp. He tried again, and this time you caught his wrist in an easy hold. Hypnos tried to pull away to no avail and he tried to land another hit with his free hand, you caught his other wrist as well.

You lifted an eyebrow, your amusement growing at his scowl.

“Jerk.” Hypnos hissed as he tried to wiggle out your grasp but you heard the hidden laughter in his tone. “You should be nicer to me, shade.”

At that, you used the momentum of his struggling body to bring him down next to you, his back landing on the pile of pillows. In a smooth motion, you silded over, pinning his wrists down.

Hypnos felt so soft under you, the sensation of the himantes warmed by his body heat made your head rush with hunger. He felt like he was yours and yours alone.

His breathing turned shaky as his amber eyes met yours. You became greedy at the mere sight of him like this, of his pink tongue running along his lips. He breathed out your name like it was a prayer.

You leaned down, your mouth a hairbreadth away from his. “I think I've been perfectly nice.”

His snarky reply was lost as you claimed his mouth. You sunk into the kiss, coaxing him to part his lips, to give in like you had to the softness of his form. He did, unfurling like a flower with a quiet, pleased moan.

Later, with Hypnos’ warm body against yours, you carefully unwrapped his wrists, your fingers smoothing the marks left in his skin until he was whole once more.

(Current)

Spring had arrived and Queen Persephone had returned to the world of warm sunlight and sweet blooming flowers. She had left the underworld with a gentle promise and deep jade eyes that shined with unshed tears.

Which meant everyone else was dealing with Master Hades’ black mood. Right now, the unfortunate victim was Hypnos.

“What do you mean your overdue paperwork is missing?” His voice boomed over Hypnos’ wordy explanation, the depth of his anger rattling the house. A nearby candle rocked from the vibrations and not for the first time, you were tempted to give it a small nudge and let it set the place ablaze.

The thought of all Master Hades’ precious paperwork burned into a crisp was almost enough to bring a smile to your face.

Hypnos blinked up at Hades, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked tiny, his feet on the ground. “It means it is missing and I don't know where it is. You know, like the dictionary definition of ‘missing’ is-”

“Enough! I do not have time for your foolishness. Go get another copy and. Don’t. Lose. It. Again.”

“Aye, aye captain!” Hypnos flashed Hades a cheerful grin with a two finger salute. Hades murmured something under his breath, his fingers rapping his desk as Hypnos walked off.

When Hypnos got close enough, you caught his attention with a short wave. You made a gesture toward the candle, lifting an eyebrow in a silent question.

Hypnos smothered his laugh with his hand over his mouth and shook his head, his curls bouncing sweetly. The sight of his delight was more than enough to make you smile.

You watched him all the way until he passed the administration’s doors, his cloak fluttering behind him. Only then, you let out a deep sigh.

With spring’s arrival, it meant that it had been at least half a year sinceâ€¦ Everything that happened. Hypnos was still not able to call upon his powers fully, even the slightest effort seemed to drain the energy out of him.

His last attempt at floating had caused him to pass out almost immediately. You had gotten very good at catching him before he hit the ground, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath-

You didn’t know it was possible to drown in smoke and dirt as screams echoed, fire devouring everything it’s path like a mindless beast. Ares’s nails digging into your neck as Achilles wailed, carrying Patroclus’ body in despair among the bloodied streets.

The wheels of the wooden horse were bloodied, its mouth looked like a twisted, horrible smile as people ran around it.

Golden eyes met yours, once bright turned dull, Hypnos’ beautiful face ruined as Pyrrhus reached down-

You shook your head roughly, ignoring the glance some of the close by shades sent your way. Busy bodies, the whole lot of them.

It wasn’t new. You had dealt with this even before Hypnos. Memories twisted into nightmares that creeped in and pulled you away from reality. It was likely just prolonged stress that had brought the foul things back in greater force.

You let out a sigh.

This would pass as it always did.

There was a ritual at bedtime.

You weren’t sure when it started exactly but it was one you began to look forward to. After settling in the pools of soft blankets, pillows tucked behind their head, Hypnos trails his fingers along your chest, sometimes down your stomach then slowly back up.

Hypnos always felt unbelievably soft and warm against your body. You were addicted to how he felt, always finding a place for your hands to touch him. Sometimes you would let your hands roam, pressing gentle kisses against his neck, whispering devotions into the flesh you worship.

But one thing always remains the same.

Hypnos will fall asleep first, you made sure of that.

Sleep didn’t come easily for the god anymore. Another thing stolen away from your beloved. You made sure to lock the anger away, it didn’t belong in the quiet, sacred place for just you and Hypnos.

Later, you will fight the rage out with Zagreus but not now, not here.

His brow furrowed, and you shifted to smooth away the tension, brushing gentle fingers along his forehead. You thought it worked for a moment only for his eyes to open slowly.

Golden irises met yours, with an unexpected sharpness to them. When you cupped his cheek, he sighed and nuzzled into your palm.

”I wonder what my domain looks like now.” Hypnos confessed in the quiet dark, with only you and the canopy of stars to hear. “Do you think it works just fine without me? I haven’t seen it in forever.”

You heard the unspoken questions.

What if nobody needs me even for sleep? For dreams? Am I really that useless?

You shook your head, “Pure chaos. When everything goes back to normal, you will have tons of paperwork to get caught up on.”

Hypnos gave a little huff, “No paperwork in the dream realm.”

“Sounds nice, we should move there.” You said with a cheeky grin, trying to get a laugh out of him. You didn’t but Hypnos smiled at you. His fingers brushed against your lips and you kissed his fingertips.

“I thought I was supposed to be the goofy one.” Hypnos teased.

You smiled against his fingers. “Learned from the best.”

That got a small laugh from Hypnos and he shifted, tucking himself back against your chest. You sighed happily, kissing his forehead, rubbing his back in long, smoothing stokes.

Eventually, Hypnos’ face went slack, his breathing even and deep. You didn’t fall asleep, not yet. You lingered, watching his face until sleep won.

Blood dipped from the wooden horse’ mouth, limbs dangling between its twisted lips.

Its eyes gleamed with unholy glee at the feast before it.

You stared. There shouldn’t be eyes- there shouldn’t be eyes- blood red irises rolled down to you as the monster realized you there.

Then in a flash, its mouth opened toward you, the mouth fleshy pink with white fangs bloodied with those of the innocent, of the damned. You couldn’t move- run run run!

You woke with a jolt, sweat coated your body as you realized where you were. Stars gleamed overhead. Hypnos was barely awake, watching you with concern twisting the delicate lines of his face.

His hand was on your shoulder, lingering there from his efforts to wake you up.

”You were screaming.” Hypnos whispered, staring down at you. You flinched at his expression, sitting up before you placed a hand on Hypnos’. You gave his slender fingers a gentle squeeze as you tried to normalize your breathing.

”Just a bad dream, love.” You reassured him. Not that it seemed to work. Hypnos bit on his bottom lip, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Hypnos?”

”I hate this.” Hypnos’ voice cracked and his eyes slammed closed. “I know this isn’t about me but I hate that I can't help you.”

You immediately wrapped your arms around him, hauling his body into your lap. You kissed his brow over and over as Hypnos took deep breaths.

“I used to keep the nightmares away. I was actually a little useful.” Hypnos confessed. “I just wanted you to get some good rest and- I missed being useful. I miss my powers, y/n.”

”I know, my love.” You murmured against his skin, hating that he was hurting and there was nothing you could do. Hypnos already went through so much, this was just kicking the god while he was down.

“What will happen if I don’t ever get it back?” Hypnos whispered, staring down at his hands. “It should have come back by now, surely.”

You cupped his chin, moving his face toward yours. He tried to resist at first however your hold was unrelenting and Hypnos met your eyes. His lips quivered but he didn’t try to look away.

”You are Hypnos, god of sleep and dreams.” You gave him a smile. “You are far better than anyone I know. Gentle and clever and just a little bit silly.”

Then you let your expression turn serious. “I know your godhood will return, I have nothing but complete faith in you.”

Hypnos swallowed and gave a watery smile. It broke your damn heart. “I- okay. Okay, if you believe in me, then what choice do I have then to believe you?”

“Exactly.” You whispered.

He let out a shuddering breath and tucked himself against your body, hiding his face in the hollow of your neck. You held the god in your arms and silently cursed Pyrrhus for what he had done.

But most of all, you cursed yourself for failing the one person you loved the most.

“Let me try again.” Hypnos murmured before taking a deep breath. His eyes closed as he tried to bring the quill toward his outstretched hand.

Thanatos watched, a faint furrow of concern on his brow. The first few attempts at training had been rough, until everyone had realized Hypnos would have to start with baby steps.

Zagreus rocked on his heels, quiet as Thanatos and Hypnos trained. You frowned when you realized he had glanced toward you once more, his expression hopeful. Crossing your arms, you lifted an annoyed eyebrow at him.

”Staring at them isn’t going to help Hypnos. Let’s do some training for ourselves. Maybe even with real weapons this time.” Zagreus whispered.

You opened your mouth, ready to dismiss Zagreus when Hypnos made a sound of frustration. He yanked the quill and bent it before tossing it at Thanatos’ feet.

He glared at the quill as if it personally slapped his mother. “I don’t understand! It had been centuries! Millennium and countless eras! I can feel every second!”

”It hadn’t been that long, Hypnos.” Thanatos snapped, annoyance clear in his eyes. He picked up the ruined quill, letting it burn away in a green burst of flames. “I swear you are so dramatic.”

”Says the guy who just burnt a quill.” Hypnos copied Thanatos, hamming it up a bit. “Ooooh, look at me and my dumb green flame.”

Thanatos took a breath, “This is coming from you, who just broke it a childish fit!”

Hypnos scoffed, “At least I am open with my emotions, Thanatos. Unlike someone I could name.”

”Don’t start that again-“

Zagreus kicked at the floor, sighing like it was your fault. “There they go off again.”

“You always do this, Hypnos-“

”I do not-“

You and Zagreus just stood there in silence. You suspected he felt just as useless as you did. The loud argument continued, to the point that Skelly covered his nonexistent ears. You could feel both his and Zagreus’ eyes on you, waiting for you to step in between the brothers.

Why did it have to be you?

“Blah, blah blah. That all you can say, it doesn’t help bring my power back-“

”Maybe if you listened-“

”I am! You need to listen to me when I say it is not there anymore.”

it was without a doubt that you supported Hypnos in everything but there was only so many times you could listen to him and his brother yell at each other. With a disgruntled glare toward Zagreus, you went to the twins.

Hypnos kept a smile during the fight but you saw the tightnesses in the corners of it, the way his cheeks reddened from frustration. Thanatos looked more calm but the hard line of his jaw gave away his anger.

“Let’s take a break.” You ordered, placing a smoothing hand on Hypnos’ back. It was then you realized that Hypnos was trembling, it was so silght you barely saw it but you could feel it.

There was a moment of harsh silence, the brothers glaring at each other down then Hypnos broke it and he glanced up at you. You ran your hand up and down in quiet comfort.

Hypnos let out a breath, his body relaxing under your touch. “Yeah, let's do that.”

Thanatos shook his head, “Sir Y/N, can I have a word with you?” He shot a hard look toward Hypnos, who gave him a surprise blink. “Privately?”

You didn’t move. Or agree. You simply glanced down at Hypnos, waiting for his permission. Hypnos couldn’t hide the hurt, not from you then he gave a shrug. At that, you murmured an agreement to Thanatos.

Green overtook your vision and you became lighter than air, then force slammed into you, causing you nearly fall backward. You caught your footing at the last moment, bracing a hand on a nearby wall.

You studied the room, trying to get your bearings. It took a moment before you realized you were in Zagreus’ chambers. You grimace in disgust when you realized you had a foot stuck in a dirty pile of clothes and promptly kicked it away.

All that just to take you to Zagreus’ room, and Thanatos had the nerves to call Hypnos dramatic. You just hoped the dirty laundry was the worst of it.

”Really?” You said dryly. You shot him an unimpressed glance, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. “Next time, give me a warning.”

“You can’t keep babying him.” Thanatos snapped. The god shook his head, his white hair falling in front of his face. He blew it out of his face with a scowl. It reminded you so much of Hypnos that you had to bite back a smile.

“Pushing him isn’t helping him either.” You shot back. “It isn’t like he isn’t trying. You and I both know he has been trying every single day.”

You knew some bitterness slipped into your tone, you couldn’t help it. After you were the one who saw how much the lack of powers had affected Hypnos, you were the one who comforted him after every training lesson with Thanatos. The one caught Hypnos before he hit the ground.

It wasn’t a burden to do so, you would catch him every single time. But Hypnos wouldn’t - didn’t - want his twin to see the tears and you weren’t going to betray him by telling Thanatos. You just hated that his and Thanatos’ relationship wasn’t a problem you could fix by swinging a few fists around.

So you used your words the best you could.

You continued, “He had been working on this stuff outside of the training, this isn’t him being ‘lazy’.” You made a point of doing finger quotes around the word ‘lazy’. “Your frustration with this whole thing, with him, isn't helping. I can promise you Hypnos feels ten times worse.”

Thanatos pitched his brow and after a beat, he grounded out. “I know that.”

You waited for him to gather his words together.

“Something is wrong but I don't know how to fix it. No one does.” Thanatos blew out a breath. “It should have come back by now.”

It looked like it had killed Thanatos to say it, to admit that this was beyond his powers, beyond everyone else. Nyx had reached out to the olympic gods, not even the healing powers of Apollo could help.

Hypnos hasn't admitted it, not outright but it was eating away at him. Often you found him sitting alone and staring in the hearth, his eyes shadowed.

“I don't know what to do.” Thanatos repeated. “It is becoming hopeless at this rate.”

At that, you sighed. “I don’t know either. We need to support him and saying that it is hopeless isn’t going to help.”

Thanatos parted his mouth to say something else however before he could, Hypnos stepped into the room. He glanced between you and Thanatos but didn’t meet your eyes.

”I need to go back to work.” He murmured before walking past, his head ducked low. You reached out but he jerked away and picked up his pace. The silence left behind was a heavy one.

You hissed out a soft curse, rubbing the back of your neck in frustration. Thanatos’ shoulders slumped, guilt clear in his eyes. “I will talk to him.”

”Don’t.” You warned. “It will just start another argument. Let's just give him some breathing room. I will talk to him after work.”

You glanced toward the entrance, worry and fear were like sharp rocks deep in your stomach.

Rolling waves crashed against the beach, white foam caught between your childlike feet. The closer you got, the foam turned pink with spilled blood from the first battle. Your tiny steps in the sand grew into the size of a man, blood spattered over your hands.

Men bobbed in the water, as birds swooped in and others disappeared among the waves, never to be seen by their loved ones again.

A corpse was slowly being pulled in, the legs already being eaten by fishes and a seagull pecked at the back of the split-open skull.

You were going to be sick.

When you were able to lift your head again, you felt a hand on your shoulder. When you looked up, it was Pa. Only not.

Skin grayed, his mouth bloody and the hole in his chest and stomach let his insides spill out. Faint animalistic screams reach your ears, loud wails of pain drown out the sound of the waves.

Pa was trying to say something-

A hand grabbed yours, and you whirled to stare down at what you thought was a corpse. Ares began to laugh as he pulled you among the piles of bodies-

“I’m here. Shhhh. Hey, dearest, breath. I’m ordering you to breathe.”

You gasped. Blinked.

It took you a moment to realize where you were. You were standing in front of the hearth, the flames danced, sowing its light in the chambers. A pair of hands were cupping your face, Hypnos’ face twisted in confusion and worry.

When your eyes landed on him, he smiled but there was a nervousness to it. Like he wasn’t sure if he should.

You let out a breath and covered Hypnos’ hands with your own, running your thumbs along his fingers in an effort to smooth yourself. Your eyes closed in quiet relief.

Just your mind playing cruel tricks on you. Nothing more.

“Seems like it was a bad one.” Hypnos whispered.

You simply nodded, you weren’t going to scare Hypnos by telling what false visions haunted you.

”It’s been a while since you had a rough one.” Hypnos prodded. Your eyes snapped open, Hypnos was staring at you with narrowed eyes.

”It’s fine, my love.” You tried to reassure him but it was clear by his expression he wasn’t buying it.

You tried again. “Hypnos-“

”I can tell.” He kept his voice low, stepping closer to you. “You usually don’t get this shaken up. Have they been getting worse?”

You hesitated then when you saw a flash of hurt in those lovely golden eyes, you broke.

”Somewhat.” You admitted, shame burying deep inside your chest. You pulled him into a hug, your arms wrapped his slender waist and his hands settled on your shoulders. “But this is nothing new, love. I’ve been dealing with these since before we met.”

Hypnos’ forehead dropped to your chest, he didn’t say a single word. You cupped the back of his curls, dropping a comforting kiss against the top of his head. Together, you and him stood there, soaking in the heat of the hearth for however long.

Then Hypnos pulled away, and took your hands in his. You waited, squeezing his fingers in silent reassurance.

“I am going to ask you to do something for me.” Hypnos whispered.

“Anything.” You promised immediately.

At that, Hypnos’ lips curled up in a smile. “Careful. You are not going to like what I am about to ask of you.”

”Just ask me, love.” You told him. There was a warning bell going off in your mind but you ignored it.

”I want you to take me to see Pyrrhus.”

You stared down at him. It took your brain a full three seconds to comprehend his words.

“No.” You said dumbly.

“No.” You repeated. Your voice was dipping with ice and you shook your head as you took a sharp breath. You stepped away, anger boiling in your chest like lava. The idea of Pyrrhus being even in the same room as Hypnos was enough to make your head rush dizzily with sheer rage.

“Abso-fucking-lately not!” You snarled and began to pace the length of the chamber, like a caged lion. Your hands flexed and uncurled only to return into fists, your nails digging into your palms. “Are you mad!? Hypnos- I- No, I am not letting you go near that animal!”

You knew you needed to calm down, to listen but the memory of Hypnos’ bruised face, of golden blood spilled on the floor of Tartarus, of Pyrrhus looming over Hypnos, mocked you.

Hypnos sat down on the chaise, his legs crossed as he watched you. His chin resting on his hand as if bored.

“You are handling this better than I expected.” Hypnos commented mildly. Like one would for the weather. His complete calm and disregard for your sanity and his safety made you whirled around to face him.

”This isn’t a joke, Hypnos!” You roared, hands becoming claws.

“I know.” It was so quiet, so firm that it gave you pause. His expression was calm and sure in a way that you haven’t seen in a long time. You forced your breathing to slow and rubbed your forehead as your shoulder slumped a little bit.

Once you were sure that you were the one in control and not your rage, although simmered low in your guts like a monster lurking close, you went to him.

Kneeling in front of him, you took his hands. Looking into those golden eyes, all you could ask was, “Why?”

“I need answers. And it is clear I am noting going to get it just by sitting around.” Hypnos said. “I’mâ€¦ sick of being like this. I can’t remember what could had cause this.”

“And you think Pyrrhus can be trusted to speak the truth?” You replied quietly. Hypnos’ mouth twisted, the first sign of doubt.

“I don’t know. I just know sitting and waiting for my powers to return to me isn’t working for me.” Hypnos waved off your reply before you could say it. “I know, we tried other stuff. I just know I need to do this.”

You said nothing for a long moment, staring down at Hypnos’ slender fingers between yours. It was always something you admired about him, the delicate artwork that was his hands.

“Do you remember that talk we had once? About how you would fight me?” Hypnos whispered. “You would try to take me down in a surprise attack before I knew what hit me?”

You winced. In hidesight, you wouldn’t had told Hypnos that. Or at least softened it a bit.

Hypnos continued, “All I can feel is that something is deeply wrong. There is a sense of dread lingering over me. Like before he attacked me.”

“I-“ your mouth snapped close. There was real desperation in Hypnos’ tone and you knew no words would comfort him.

“Please.” Hypnos begged softly.

You wanted to say ‘no’, to keep him safe in the house and away from that creature that caused all of this. Butâ€¦ it wasn’t your place to do so, if this was Hypnos needed to do, then so be it.

You nodded, you were his most devoted worshiper, whatever he wished of you, it was already his.

”When do you want to go?” You asked.

Relief bloomed on his face before his jaw tightened in determination.

”Now.”

Somewhere far away from the gloom of the underworld, a queen stood in her garden along with her mother, their faces were twin masks of pain and sorrow.

The world should be a riot of blooming life. Trees lush and green with the sound of baby birds, olive grooves should be flushed with food, apple trees filling the air with sweet flowers and colorful wildflowers should be dancing in the wind, their sweet faces tilled to the sun.

There was nothing.

Somewhere close to bright blue waters of the coast, a golden prince of the sun frowned at the entrance at one of his temples. Where was the music, he wondered with his hands on his hips.

The sound of lyres should be drifting into the newly spring air. The clean smell of freshly ground medicinal herbs was missing as well.

Peeved, Apollo went inside, ready to have a word with his head priestess.

Only when he found his followers, he gasped in horror, recoiling away from them. They stared back with blank, sunken eyes, as if they didn’t recognize their god.

Like a creeping, strange vine, it spread to the depth of the forests of lady Artemis, and she watched as her animals stumble and birds fall from the sky, exhaustion causing their form to shake apart.

The god of wine only stared in muted disbelief as he walked through his grapevines, brown and dead from the lack of care. Just as many of his worshippers were, their bodies scattered and the others stared back with dull, sunken eyes.

Thanatos lingered in the doorway of a family home, his grip tightened on his scythe.

He knew he needed to find Hypnos and he vanished from the living realm. He would not admit that fear lingered deep in his stomach. Because if they couldn’t fix thisâ€¦

Farmers collapsed in the fields, poets lost their words in puddles of ink and confusion. Babies screamed as their mother weeped in exhaustion and confusion. Ships rocked among the ocean waves, quiet as a grave.

It didn’t matter.

From the poorest beggar to the most powerful king, all of them searched for the relief of oblivion.

The world was wide awake.

#wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader

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aaronofithaca05 · 26 days

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Hi! Part 3: the truth of my fic: The first night is out

<-Part 2

“Yes, father” he responded from amongst the crowd.

“What happened?, he bluntly shouted.

“Wait, better not ask, as my poisoned words were the ones that began your pain”. He said as he was trying to occult his shedding pearls amidst a façade of well.

“Son; come here, you NEVER, NEVER send me poisoned words” I said calmly

“ As honey never spoils” I said while trying to stay put, and then with my breaking throat: “my love to you will stay as the inmutable stars of the night” Even if you burned all Ithaca, all the lands under Uranus. I said softly; “You will always be my son, my joy, my sun”. I tried to hug him, to tell him everything was as good as ever. Ever

“Then… Why did you evade my question? “. Telemachus' reaction to my promise, to my love, was a question that veiled the sorrows of a fatherless son, of a man whose only memory of me were tales of old, the anger of a naive soul.

“Telemachus, let me..”. I tried to tell him everything but his impetuous anger cut me, again.

“You´re Odysseus the man of many turns,” He reprimanded me while shouting as I lowered my head to the floor

“The cunning master of the Danaoi” He added, I assisted

“Breaker of divine's Troy walls”, He added to the list.

“Telemachus, I wa..” He didn't let me end,

“Oh sorry Odysseus son of Laertes” he said while his tears filled his soft face, his little hairs forming pearls of anguish. “I meant Odysseus,the destroyer of cities”. That cut me down to the core, I saw the floor of before impenetrable Troy filled with the blood and bodies of them all, he´s body, staring stiff to the void, the face of an innocent, the face of Telemachus, I couldn´t saved him there,

“I won't lose you here” I thought.

I was being killed and gutted by the voice of my son, of our son, of our sweet Telemachus.

“Telemachus, please I´m Oddy…” I was stopped again, trying to say “Telemachus, I´m Odysseus, father of Telemachus, you are my most prized soul, my greatest achievement, no lie, no masterful plan, no horse, nothing can compare to the pride I have and will always have being able to call myself your father”

He then stop, he looked towards where I interrogated the poor little girl and with a heart full of hate he shouted: “Odysseus, Slayer of Circe,

“Slayer of..Circe '', I froze, my expression changed to ingenuity.

He saw the change in face and thought it was “liar” what caught me

“Yes liar, isn't that what you are? How can I call myself the son of a beggar and a liar????!!!!!”

Our blood ran cold, all light faded, all the spring air became the underworld, all stopped. He collapsed like the Walls of the doomed city while I was running to him, with pearls so big that only immortals could have.

He berated, he punched me, he tried to get me off.

“Liar, liar” He shouted if Zeus lighting was contained inside him

“…..father” I kissed him while grabbing his soft looks

“….Πα…i'm sorry” he spoke softly as the clouds

“Don´t be” I said as I looked into his watery eyes while our foreheads were touching, we were for the first time son and dad.

After that, he was still defiant but soft as a young kid (goat), I felt how his factions softened but not his lips, there was anger still inside.

“Telemachus”, I said, trying to rock him as I did before I left home.

“all you said was true, I was a liar, so many people had been sent down under my sword” I whispered, he held me closer and tighter while I felt moisture in my cloth.

“But I didn't kill Circe”, I said.

He pushed me out, his anger, his stream of pearls was rekindled, he was more fierce than any storm I faced, he was tougher than any foe I faced, every monster, even I.

“Why must you keep lying to me!” he said while hugging himself

“I don´t lie”, “ she's alive” I said, sincerely as my love to him.

“You let that witch live?” Telemachus shouted again.

“You let the daughter of Helios live to see his father once more” He seemed confused amidst his whines.

“Why would I killed her?, she nurture us to live, she prepared us, she let her home open for us, she is the greatest foe we faced, her dignity and hospitality were an example for all of the civilized” I said convinced and serene in every word; he grew paler with each letter, with each word and his eyes more deep and bottomless than before.

“And the pigs, what about the piGS!!” he clinged to that idea, trying to get me.

“You let your men die?” He put his hand in his heart waiting for my collapse but I was standing up.

“No one died on that island under my watch, only Elaipnor met his fate, for lounging in the roof of her palace and fell asleep a month or two before leaving” then added “the rest perished in Thrinacia”.

“Wait” I could see his confession brimming and humming in his perfect ears.

“then the gray-eyed goddess helped, the sword trick, Circe's curse…It was a lie”.

“What did you say?”. I asked softly and awaited his answer as I awaited the moment of holding him tight forever.

“Friend told me”, he sincerely said.

“Friend” I remember that word “friend” but I did not hold it dear anymore, as the friend he talked about I knew who was.

“She told you sweet stories thinking i was going to be here and one day tell you truth”

“The truth”, “The truth”,he scoffed bitterly

“How many truths are there?” “I only wanted my dad”, “ We only wanted you” he whined as he collapsed again.

“I only wanted you Πα”, Telemachus whispered, hugging my knees.

“I have endured, I stayed strong, I did what I was told”, “but still, your soul wasn't here with us”. he gently spoked as a small creek.

Thanks so much to all of you! I´m tagging to my best friends and special moots:

@jarondont,@iroissleepdeprived, @nikoisme, @perroulisses,@poshgirlsstuff, @katerinaaqu @incorrecthomer, @dootznbootz, @nyx-of-darkness-1620, @sunshines-child, @randomkrab, @ironspdr6700, @fangirlofallthefanthings, @twomanyfandomshelp, @thehighpaladin, @the-decapod, @myblacknightworld, @simugeuge, @itszorrito67, @incorrectatlas @tunguszka20, @dootznbootz , @ironspdr6700

#the first night #odysseus #telemachus #fic #angst/fluff #argument #the odyssey #greek mythology #homer

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phantomdecibel · 1 year

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FUCK you: re-canonifies your Flower!AU

Anyways what if Polites actually still dies flower au au (bit o context in the tags, just so this drabble makes a bit more sense since it doesnt exactly follow canon aha-)

Rattlesnake Root

shield, step carefully.

Watching Ajax rush across the deck, calling out orders while cradling little Astyanax in his arms, the realization hit Odysseus like a brick.

This is what Polites had meant.

Eurylochus’s voice still echoed in his ears — but Odysseus wasn’t hearing any of it. Everything sounded muffled, like he was listening to (one of) his best friend chew him out from underwater. He must have started yelling louder, because the teenager glanced over at the two of them, something Odysseus hesitated to label as anything other than concern written across his face.

He wanted to yell.

He wanted to scream, keep shooting venom like arrows, jump up and pace, even.

Instead he stood, hands clasped over the rail, staring blankly past the blurred shape of his friend. It was both too loud and yet too quiet and annoyingly chilly and somehow everything was way too bright. It felt like there should be a storm brewing overhead, yet the only rain falling came from his eyes. The sun shone down unapologetically overhead, and Odysseus fought back an unintelligible scream.

This is what Polites had meant, what he’d pleaded back in that forest.

If you don’t talk to us, if you don’t trust us, then how can we help?

He’d thought he’d had it all under control, that his own hangups weren’t affecting anyone else, but clearly he’d been wrong. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or just plain ignorance, but Odysseus had fucked up, pushed too far.

He wanted to sob.

He was already crying, Odysseus realized in a vague, sort of detached way. His face felt… damp, and tight from the salt already starting to dry. Something hit his hand; again and again and again, and rolled down his knuckles.

Eurylochus yelled again, throwing his arms out, and Odysseus flinched.

How long had this been brewing?

How long had he been pushing his crew, his friends to the edge? For how long had he been pushing them to the side, ignoring their concerns and needs, forcing them to pick up his slack?

…when had his efforts to protect them start to hurt instead?

Slowly, Eurylochus’s face came back into focus.

His mouth moved and Odysseus could, technically, hear him still, but the words themselves were lost to the buzzing in his head. The tilt to his eyebrows would have looked angry — really, really angry — to anyone else, but Odysseus knew his friend. Eurylochus was angry, sure, but mostly he was just worried (and tired, so tired, and grieving, too). The man’s eyes glistened wetly, shining with unshed tears.

Odysseus barely noticed as he started to shake.

He did this. This was his fault, the result of his negligence. Polites was dead because of him, and now he was driving away the other person he should be supporting, looking after the most.

Odysseus clenched the rail tighter, clearly hearing it creak under his grip. Eurylochus’s voice faded in and out, nothing but background noise.

He’d failed.

Odysseus blinked once, twice, trying to alleviate the pressure growing behind his eyes. The tears, which had been slowing, built again, suddenly, and everything was just too much.

Oh. He dimly realized again. I did this.

And Odysseus…

…Odysseus broke.

Odysseus broke, tears falling like a waterfall. He choked on a sob, shaking violently, as his knees wobbled and knocked together. Eurylochus’s voice, angry and harsh, snapped back into focus, and Odysseus keened weakly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, falling to his knees as he swallowed back another sob. “I’m sorry-“

Desperately, shaking all the while, Odysseus clutched at his friend’s chiton, head pressed to Eurylochus’s knee. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-“

Eurylochus’s angry rant trailed off into shocked silence as Odysseus tripped over his words. Apology after apology spilled from his lips as he sat shaking on the wooden deck of the ship, legs collapsed awkwardly beneath him. He didn’t dare look up as silence crashed against the ship like Polyphemus’s club crashing against men and stone, just kept choking out desperate apologies into the empty, oppressive air.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sobbed, like a mantra. “I’m sorry,”

The moment seemed to stretch for an eternity; a terrifying, heart-stopping eternity.

He couldn’t do this.

Odysseus- he couldn’t. He’d tried, fuck he’d tried. Tried to carry every burden he could, tried to protect his people, and look where they were now.

It was all a mess, a fucking disaster.

And- and Polites was gone, now, really truly gone, never-coming-back gone.

Dead.

And Eurylochus would be too- not dead, not if Odysseus had any say in it, but gone, leaving.

Leaving him, because Eurylochus would do what was best for the crew.

Odysseus was just dead weight.

The leg he leaned against, clutched in desperation, was pulled back, and Odysseus let it go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, trying and failing to blink away his tears as his hands dropped down to dig his nails into his own knees instead. Something thudded against the ground ahead of him, but all Odysseus could think was ‘this is it’.

This is it, this is where his friend, his last surviving best friend, his brother, even, left him.

And by the gods if he didn’t deserve it.

“‘msorry,” his words slurred together. “‘msrry’msorry,”

He deserved this, for hurting his friend and daring to proclaim otherwise. Why should Eurylochus stick around? Odysseus wasn’t worth the work. He hunched in on himself some more.

“‘msorry,” he might have begged. Please don’t go. You have every right to, but please, please. Don’t leave me. “‘msrrymsrrymsor-“

Odysseus coughed.

Oh, that was odd.

He couldn’t breathe, for a moment there, air knocked from his lungs as his chest collided with something warm and solid. Something strong tugged his forwards, pulled him tight against it.

Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Odysseus suddenly found his head tucked into the crook of Eurylochus’s neck as he shook. He tried to choke out another apology, but Eurylochus held him too tightly to properly speak the words.

Oh.

Odysseus shook some more, hands slowly worming their way from his knees to clutch this time at the front of his friend’s chiton.

Eurylochus was hugging him.

Eurylochus. was hugging him.

Odysseus sobbed again.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to force out again, but Eurylochus just pulled him impossibly closer.

“It’s okay,” his friend whispered, voice hoarse. “It’s going to be okay.”

mans is a bit harsh on himself :,)

He doesn’t q u i t e get the point, but he’s getting there-

Anyways so flower au; asty lives and also @hahahaghosty and I are soft for lil ajax :P

I know I always say this, but they were a huge inspiration for this (bc they fuel me w like 75% of my writing ideas lmao-), so thank you a whole lot!! wouldn’t be possible without ya :) they're really fucking awesome, go check out their stuff!! do it- Do It Now-

anyways that all from me for now, thanks for reading :P

(me: check out the tags for some context :) also me: throws way to much shit in them-

just. just read the beginning and end and itll all make sense if u wanna)

#uggggghhhhh I copy-pasted this and it got rid of my italics sadge-#anyways I wanted a flower that meant ‘please don’t go’ or smthn but could’nt find one and didn’t feel like digging too much lol #yes I know lil ajax is not actually a teenager. no I do not care #anyways context?#poli nd odys kidnap/adopt asty. poli dies. euryl thinks they should get rid of asty odys disagrees. they’re both Super Stressed-#(nearly starved to death + Polyphemus + grief)#so they fight. odys has been pushing everyone away bc he wants to do everything himself #so he can protect the friends he has left. this only creates more stress for euryl (shocker)#lil ajax just wants to help out :)#so yeah that’s what’s going on-#listen euryl is soft for his friends 🥺#u can’t change my mind #that doesn’t mean he’s afraid to kick their asses (he will. absolutely). just that w poli the designated Hug Man gone he will step up to #(awkwardly)#offer some good ol comfort :]#…#Me whenever I write literally anything: anyways this is entirely @hahahaghosty’s fault :)#flower au #epic the musical #the odyssey #odysseus #eurylochus #polites #he’s mentioned but also dead sorry-#lil ajax #astyanax #both there for about a sentence lmao #no clue if they actually know polyphemus name but whatever #oh yeah also I’m imagining neither of them have slept for a while aha-#grief/mourning

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katerinaaqu · 1 month

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Continuing from Part 1;

Guilt (P2)

"And no, that was what you feared...not what you knew. There was no way you would know the magnitude of it...you gave them the city just like you promised. What theh did with it was their responsibility"

If only it were that simple, Odysseus thought

Odysseus could feel his head buzzing all the time. He was feeling tired of killing that night. As he had promised they had plundered Troy in just one fateful night. Odysseus had lost counting at how many lives had fallen under his sword. The palace of Troy had fallen. Troy was burning. As he cut his way through with with sword he remembered bodies falling down; armed or not; soldiers who barely had time to rouse themselves from sleep to come to save their city and yet they rushed at him bravely. Odysseus couldn't decide if he admired them or felt sorry for them.

"Odysseus!" The voice of a soldier brought him back to the present

"What is it?"

"Priam is dead!"

"Dead?!"

That piece of information he feared but he hoped he could prevent.

"Where?"

The man bringing the news was way too nervous for comfort.

"Where!" Odysseus demanded again

"T-To the altar of Zeus...he was slain upon the altar!"

Odysseus nearly dropped his sword! Had they stooped so low, then, in anger and hate?

"Who!" Odysseus demanded, "who did such a blasphemous act?!"

"N-Neoptolemous..."

Odysseus could hardly remember rushing to the scene. Perhaps he remembered the hall drenched in blood and there he saw the dead body of the king; neck gushed open and blood all over the floor. The haunting image of the expression of horror to the old man's face as well as the stain of blood upon the altar were a blurry mess in his brain. All he knew was that he saw that child he had brought to this war, with his face smeared with blood, having a self-complacent smirk on his face. He almost seemed possessed. That damn armor seemed to be one with his skin.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!" Odysseus bellowed, "How could you do that?! Have you so little respect for the laws of humans that you've stooped to the level of beasts?!"

The way that Neoptolemus looked at him was pure mockery and arrogance gained from victory.

"Now come on, Sacker of Cities...don't pretend that you would have left that man live! He was the king of Troy...just his existence would be a threat. You would have him executed anyways".

Odysseus couldn't remember grabbing the boy by the throat but he was beyond himself. His eyes were two bottomless pools of blackness.

"Do you want to end up like Thersites?!" He threatened in a dangerous whisper, "Do not challenge me, boy!"

"Or what?" Neoptolemus challenged back, "Will you do to me what you did to Palamedes?"

Odysseus was so shocked he could hardly speak. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. The shock was enough to make him release the threat of the youth and take a few steps back.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" he said

Neoptolemus laughed.

"You are a liar, Odysseus! But then again you always were, weren't you?"

"Palamedes drowned in the sea! It was an accident!"

For a moment the image of ruffling waters had passed through his mind. Palamedes struggling under the surface... Odysseus remembered being frozen. He never tried to jump after him even jf he were an excellent swimmer. He was cold and motionless like a statue. The voice of the arrogant son of Achilles brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, how convenient indeed that he had that small... 'accident' when you and Diomedes were at the same boat with him during that fishing expedition! How convenient indeed!"

"This isn't about me!" Odysseus snapped at him, "This has to do with the hubris you performed here! We do NOT kill those who seek the sanctuary of the gods!"

"Times have changed, old man! You said so yourself! Besides wasn't you the one who implied that the line of the royal family of Troy should be cut? Priam shouldn't live anyways!"

Yes, Odysseus thought,he had said that and by that time he believed jt, however the old man had sought sanctuary. If they waited for him to get exhausted maybe... He could have surrendered. Murder upon sacred place was definitely NOT the way to do it. They could have offered him a nobler death than that! Odysseus didn't have time to reply. He heard a baby cry. He turned around to see in horror a man bringing baby Astyanax and handing him to Neoptolemus. The infant, barely one year of age, was crying woefully as he was handled not at all gently by Neoptolemus, who seemed untouched by the cries. Id anything he seemed to enjoy it

"What about the heir of Troy, Odysseus? What shall happen to him?"

"You can't be serious! It's just a baby!"

"A baby that is almost at the age of walking! Soon at the age of fighting. Will you let him live, Odysseus? You were the one who convinced the council, remember? You said we should all uproot the family of Priam from this earth!".

Yes, once again Odysseus had said that,however he had absolutely forgotten in the heat od the moment how old the heir actually was. The child was barely one. He could hardly speak yet alone walknand fight. Only now had he realized in horror what that promise he partially made would mean. He didn't expect to be brought before the consequences so fast!

"Weren't you the one who persuaded all the Greeks to uproot Priam's long family out of Troy?"

"Yes, but-..."

"So you take your word back? Decide!"

"Decide what?!"

"How he shall die, of course! You can't expect us to raise the son of king Hector, do you? Which will be? Sword or fall?"

The baby...the infant; no older than 1 year of age, was not much older than Telemachus... it was an innocent creature! He watched in terror as Neoptolemus held the baby to the edge of the wall.

"Choose, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus challenged, " or are you taking your words back?"

"This is madness!"

"You said to the council the other night that you would throw all of Priam's line outside these walls!" Neoptolemus insisted, "I believe the phrase you strategically used was 'we can throw them all out of the city of Troy!" I believe everyone agreed with such a sensible idea"

"Odysseus?"

It was the voice of Talthybius. Of course it would be that sleek worm! Odysseus cursed under his teeth. He was supposed to be their messenger and yet he found hik way too compassionate on the Trojan matter. Perhaps he should have gotten rid of him off his position a long time ago!

"Did you really tell the kings to kill this infant? Drag him out of his mother's bosom when she sought sanctuary in her husband's tomb and kill him in such a manner?"

Odysseus pointed his blood-stained sword at the scared messenger.

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!" He threatened, eyes set aflame

He didn't need any more of those throwing accusations at him and he had enough of this for one night! One madman before him was enough; he didn't need a Troy-friendly coward as wellm

"Stay back! This is none of your concern!"

As Talthybius took some steps back, alarmed at this sudden attack from the furious king of Ithaca, Neoptolemus seemed to enjoy this scene more than the idea of throwing the baby off the walls or stabbing him to death.

"Decide, old man!" He urged again, "Do you take your word back? Every person in that hall heard you and agreed with you! Shown in this pilgrim of the night that you have SOME sense of honor!"

Odysseus was frozen in place. His own words that he didn't mean that way were now twisted in such a horrendous manner before him and bound him like chains. He could not take that word back. His brain was also stuck and his usual eloquent tongue could not find an excuse not to do it now...

"So be it..." he said defeated, "But let us choose a more humane method! Not this, Neoptolemus! Not this!"

He needed to buy himself some time. He needed to think of any reason, ANY excuse to keep this baby alive. Neoptolemus, though, being a true son of his father's, wouldn't let him do that either.

"Not on your life, son of Laërtes! This is the child of the man who thought he could kill my father! His bloody uncle actually succeeded! His filthy kin DARED to harm a man whose mother was a goddess! He needs to die and he shall now!"

At that moment he dragged the toddler almost effortlessly with one hand; strength given only by wrath and hatred, he let him hanging on the wall. The child was crying woefully and then Odysseus thought he heard him speak;

"PAPA!"

He froze. In some terrible realization he figured the horrendous truth. Neoptolemousbhad inherited the golden locks of his father's and his light yes that included the sea and sky. He, Odysseus, was dark of hair, black of eyes, lightly olive tanned white skin...he was similar to HIM...to Hector of Troy. The infant was calling HIM to save him! Panic took over him and he forgot all logic, all his attempts to find excuses. Now the child...the baby...someone's SON (Telemachus!)needed HIS assistance.

"Neoptolemus no! It's just a baby! Let the poor creature go!"

"Very poor choice of words, Odysseus!"

And Neoptolemus did exactly what he was told...he let go! The baby fell out of the palace walls, leaving gravity take the body rapidly down.

"NOOOOOOO!" Odysseus yelled helplessly but that's all he could do.

He ran at the edge only to see a tiny bloody dot at the bass kd the wall. The haunting cries had stopped...forever.

"NEOPTOLEMUS!" Odysseus bellowed furiously, "you killed him! You killed an infant!"

"No, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus replied, "You did. Your plan, your advise, your sin."

Odysseus felt dizzy...his stomach twisted dangerously but he did herculean effort to hold himself back. There was so much he wanted to say...so much he wanted to scream but he found it impossible to utter a single sound.

"TROY HAS FALLEN!" the happy cry from the inside of the castle drew them out of this, "WAR IS OVER! HOORAY! HOORAY FOR THE SACKER OF CITIES!"

Odysseus felt like losing strength off his legs. He didn't even know how to feel. However he knew one thing. He was feeling ENRAGED. It was as if the name that was given to him by his grandfather now suddenly made sense! He glared daggers yo Neoptolemus but the arrogant boy only smiled self-complacently...

"Looks like you were right, old man... You DID take the city in one night..."

Odysseus looked beyond the walls. If was true. The sun was rising...although his light was now duller in his eyes; the fires were stronger...

The walls of Troy had fallen and the real damage was apparent the next morning following the massacre. The houses had burnt almost to the ground and only the strongest walls were still standing upright; sad reminder of their previous glory. Odysseus was standing there with some of his men, watching the march of wounded or future slaves coming out of the city in chains or ropes. The ways were known. They would be distributed to some of the kings among them and the rest would be given by luck to the rest of the people. After that thy should gather and burn the dead before they would be good to go... Odysseus looked aged almost ten years more. He had dark circles under his eyes and he still didn't have time to wash himself from the blood. The thick liquid had formed a crust upon him by that moment. Helen was secured and brought out of the city to safety by Menelaus. So everything seemed to be in place. Then, why would he feel as if he had to use all his will to endure it and keep a stone calm face? His attention was drawn to the part of the procession. It was Andromache, the queen and widow of Hector. Odysseus grimaced. He had hoped he wouldn't face that woman. She was walking upright with the dignity even the greatest of Queens would be jealous of, as if she were the mighty Hera. Even if she was in chains she was still holding her head high. Odysseus learnt that she was to be given to Neoptolemous. He watched the queen marching to be given to the man that murdered her son... The man they now called Sacker of Cities didn't know which was sadder for her. He had tried to persuade Neoptolemous to take another but all his pleas or even manipulation fell on deaf ears. In the end he wondered if it mattered... At that moment his onyx eyes locked with the eyes of the queen. And then he saw her face transform from purr dignity to pure hatred in a matter of seconds!

"ODYSSEUS!" she yelled at him, pulling the chains with all her strength, "YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER! THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING! GODS SHALL THROW THEIR RAGE UPON YOU!"

Odysseus didn't have time to defend himself.

"It was all your idea! Your plan! You scheming bastard could not fight with honor! But how could you! HOW COULD YOU!"

Her rage gave her strength anew as she managed to crawl closer. Even Odysseus took half a step back.

"HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS!DO YOU HAVE NO HEART?!"

The king of Ithaca froze. He had no idea how she had found out about it but then it hit him. Talthybius! Of course! He must have talked to her.

"HE WAS JUST A BABY! HOW COULD YOU!"

"I didn't..." he whispered more to himself than anything else

"CURSE UPON YOU!" she drew her chains again and even the soldier needed to pull back, "I knew they wouldn't let him live! But this?! THIS?! HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS! Just one year-..."

And then there was a heart-wrenching cry. Suddenly her anger turned into outpost pain. Odysseus turned his head and realized the reason. The small wrapped up ball could be nothing else but the remains of her son. One of the Greeks was transferring them to the pyre for the funeral. Odysseus cursed everything he believed in. He had hoped they would be spared at least of that! Both her and him. Andromache fell on her knees trying to release herself and get closer to the wrapped up package.

"MY BOY!" she cried, "AH! MY BOY!"

The soldier was ready to take the package away but Odysseus stopped him.

"No! Let her mourn!"

Unwillingly the man placed the child on the ground as she crawled over it, hands still tied up, not allowing her to wrap her arms around the remains of her son or even scratch her cheeks to mourn... Odysseus watched her kneel almost like an animal mourning her calf, leaning her forehead against the bloodied cloth

"MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!" Andromache's voice rose in an inhuman tone of cries and woe

The king of Ithaca felt his heart pinch. Yes, he has heard that cry before. It was an eternity ago in Ithaca...when Palamedes had come to pick him up...

Odysseus was plowing the field, singing an incoherent song. He was moving his head to an unmatched rhythm. He had tied one donkey and one cow to the plow, plowing in a totally messy way. He seemed to pay no mind. Odysseus was very keen upon his disguise as a madman. Palamedes was watching the scene with Penelope from afar as his beloved queen was playing with their son in her arms.

"He has been doing that all day..." Penelope said in her melodious voice, "He listens to no one when they tell him that this is not right. My husband insists that this is the best way to plow the field."

Penelope knew her part very well. They had agreed upon it after all. Part of it was her idea too. She didn't want him to go to war and he didn't want either. Not now that they had their son to take care of. Palamedes looked suspiciously at the scene.

"I find it hard to believe the mighty Odysseus losing his mind like this...it is so fast and so sad to be true..."

He approached closer.

"Come on, Odysseus, son of Laërtes! We have work to do, we have to get ready for the war!"

Odysseus didn't reply and continued his work. Penelope approached.

"My lord, as you see, my husband is a very sick man. He cannot help you in this war. I am afraid you must find someone else..."

Palamedes looked at her sideways before turning his gaze back at Odysseus.

"Such a shame though..." he whispered as if to himself, "Such a brilliant mind...be condemned in such a way... Seems such a waste..."

He eyed Penelope and something inside her heart flattered. She didn't like that look.

"But perhaps..." Palamedes started, "I might have a cure for his...illness..."

Penelope raised a brow.

"My lord?"

No sooner had she voiced that word and Palamedes yanked Telemachus out of her arms.

"NO!" Penelope cried out surprised, "What are you doing?! Stop!"

Telemachus screeched and cried as Palamedes ran towards the field.

"NO! MY BOY!" Penelope cried out

Odysseus barely had time to see with the corner of his eye Palamedes throw his infant son to the front of the two giant animals plowing! His mind did not think twice.

"WOOO BOY! WOO! WOO!" his mighty hands pulled the reigns stopping the plow barely a few inches away from the crying baby

Rushing to the spot he picked up his precious son to his hands, he raised him to his head, he inspected those little limbs and that soft head... He sighed in relief when he found no major injuries to that little body.

"Shh..sh sh...my boy..." he cooed at his son, "It's okay...it's okay..."

His gaze was fiery as he looked up to Palamedes.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND?!" he bellowed, "You nearly killed my son!"

Palamedes seemed uninterested at that coy as he smirked.

"Welcome back to the world of sanity, Odysseus. So now I believe we can talk about the preparations of the war, according to the oath you gave. Let us cut this charade and be men..."

Ashamed, humbled but above all ENRAGED, Odysseus looked up from his kneeling position, still cooing his son, trying to calm him.

"That was a low blow, even for you!" He growled at him

"You are the one to talk, son of Laërtes!" Palamedes retorted, "you are the one who always schemes to avoid his responsibilities!"

"Yes but I don't use innocent infants for it! I shall not forget this Palamedes!"

"I seriously hope you won't" Palamedes retorted, "So that we won't add 'oathbreaker' to your list of titles!"

Oh how enraged he had been! And yet now he remembered that moment for a totally different reason! Now he was seeing that woman who used to be a mighty queen screaming and crying over that small ball that used to be her son. She was doubling over and over, crying.

"MY BOY! NO NO NO! NO! MY SON!"

At some point she managed to grasp the cloth

"No! Don't-...!"

The cloth revealed a ball of flesh that the face and the little bones were no more recognizable. Odysseus shut his eyes closed for one secondm

"Telemachus!" He thought, "No! Not him...that's not him..."

Andromache screeched in woe as she doubled over at that small ball of flesh that used to play around a few days ago, hitting her chest with the last bits of her hands, pulling on her chains maniacally. Odysseus could take no more. He went close to her. She was a queen, she had to pull it together.

"Get up..." he whispered huskily, "please get up...for your son..."

Andromache shot her head up and spat straight on his face. The saliva from her mouth burnt his cheek like fire; like the fire that now existed in her eyes. Her woe had stopped, apart from those tears that turned her eyes red. Hatred returned...and it was all directed to him... The Man of Many Ways felt his heart turn into marble; hard and cold. He stood up to his full height wiping his cheek with his hand. He felt the dirt and blood smearing in combination with the spit. All of Troy's massacre had fallen upon him...

"Take her out of here!" He ordered in a low, cold voice

If I show weakness...I'm lost...

Andromache struggled only for one minute and that would be so that she wouldn't be separated from her son (the son that now a soldier was picking up again, sparing everyone from the unpleasant task seeing the child). She then followed her captures. She was a queen again. The only thing you could hear was some low cry.

"Odysseus..." Meriones approached him, "Are you alright?"

Odysseus winced in pain. He hadn't realized that he had clenched his fist so hard that it hurt him. He unclenched it.

"Yes..." he whispered, "Yes, I'm fine"

Sooo Part 2! Soon the closure will come! Dedication to some hood friends such as @aaronofithaca05 @simugeuge @prompted-wordsmith @loco-bird @jarondont

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jedi-lothwolf · 3 months

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Februwhump Day 2: "I Love You" (Alt Prompt 2)

Fandom: EPIC the musical

Summary: Polites fell in love with his captain. The problem is Odysseus is happily married. So he'll just love his from the side.

Polites knew this wouldn't end the way he wanted it to. He knew when he had started to develop feelings for his captain that it would end badly. Polites had never been good at hiding his feelings. He knew that Odysseus would never love him the way that he loved him.

The war was over. It ended when the city of Troy burned. Ten long years had passed. It felt longer and shorter than it really was. Polites hated watching Odysseus suffer. He knew he missed his wife and son.

On the ship, the man paced around the deck. He wounded what to do about his feelings and how he would manage them. Telling the caption would result in the end of their friendship and that was so dear to him that he couldn't risk it.

Odysseus was his best friend. He was more than just his best friend. Polites saw a different light than the rest. He couldn't help but love him. There was just something so, imperfectly perfect about him.

When Odysseus had told him to come with him to the island to scout for food, he panicked slightly. But the two left regardless. It was dawn and the sky lingered with the colors of the sunrise. the light shown of Odysseus in a way that made Polites freeze.

They walked around the island. They walked over a river using a tree that had fallen. There were willow trees and large clearings filled with flowers. But somehow Polites couldn't take his eyes off of Odysseus.

Polites had started to talk to his captain. He told him about how greeting the world was a brave thing to do and how kindness could help them. He talked about how he knew he was suffering and how he didn't want him to do so in silence.

Then they met the Lotas Eaters. Odysseus slowly got the message of kindness and faces them with words not violents. Polites was proud. He smiled as the Lotas Eaters told them about a cave that was east of them and how to get there. They thanked them and were in their way.

The man hated how being in love with someone you could never have felt. Polites didn't hate much, but this, this he hated.

The two stopped at a willow tree to rest. It seemed their conversation about greeting the work with open arms helped. Odysseus placed a birds nest that had fallen out of the tree back within the branches.

"I love you" Polites whispered. He hadn't meant to say it out loud. He watched as Odysseus paused as he stood and how he turned around to face him.

That was it. Of course he had to go and say something stupid. Of course he opened him mouth. Now he wouldn't have him at all. It was better to be friends then nothing. He didn't want to lose him.

"What?" He asked.

"I didn't, I didn't mean-"

"Polites, I-"

"Don't" Polites smiled softly. "I already know what you're going to say. I didn't mean to tell you. I'm sorry."

Odysseus just stood there. He wasn't sure what to say. He turned around to make sure the bird's nest was safely in the tree. "I love you, just not how you want me to."

"I'm fine with being friends. I didn't want to fall for you captain. It's like you tripped me" Polites chuckled. "I don't want to lose you."

Odysseus turned around and walked close to Polites. He stood not even a foot away. He looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

"It's okay. It's good actually. I'm glad your wife has you. She deserves someone like you."

"Polites" he looked away for a moment. This hadn't happened before. Ever. He had never had a man in love with him. Let alone his best friend.

Polites pushed himself on his toes and grabbed Odysseus's cheeks. He pulled his head down a little and kissed him on the forehead. "Let's get back to the ship. The men are waiting."

Then he walked away. Odysseus followed him. "Polites let's talk about this."

"Captain there's nothing to talk about. I love you and knowing that you love me in some way is enough for me. I'm not asking you to love me back."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"For?" Odysseus stopped him.

"For not loving you the way you desire, the way you deserve." He sighed. "Friends?"

Polites smiled softly. It hurt more than he had thought. Nothing could have prepared him for his captain's reaction. He felt so bad for not loving him. He wasn't mad or disgusted. "Friends."

#Februwhump day 2 #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #epic the musical #Polites #dont realy ship it but couldnt get it out of my head so #whump #Odysseus #Polites x Odysseus #Odysseus x Polites #Polites/Odysseus #i love you

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absynthe--minded · 1 year

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Doubt Truth to Be a Liar // But Never Doubt I Love

(a short story examining Homer’s Odyssey, originally published here with full tag list as “I Remember Mornings”. content of this post rated E.)

Homecomings and long waits are never easy. When the one coming home is almost certainly a god in your husband’s shape, they’re harder still. If Penelope is to emerge with her virtue intact from this final challenge, she must think as quickly and as craftily as Odysseus.

I - Doubt Truth to Be a Liar

“My lady!”

A hand upon her arm, and then a second on its twin, pushing and shaking, to draw her from sleep. She groaned, her head shaking, her hair unbound and falling over her back.

“My lady!”

The same voice, again, and a familiar one. Eurykleia, she thought, shivering and flinching as she woke all at once and sat up, her heart pounding in her ears and filling her veins with ice. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong.

She snatched up a blanket, pulling it as high as it could go until it covered her to her shoulders, and her eyes found the door. Empty. Her strength was gone as quickly as it had come, and she sagged back into the furs, letting her eyes close again. She was alone. She was alone in her own room in her marriage-bed, save for one slave whose loyalty had never faltered. But then why - ?

“Child, get up,” the old woman bade her, and her voice had a strength to it that had been gone for three years. “Get up! Your lord husband the king has returned!”

Sleep clung to her eyes, to her limbs, to her thoughts. She forced herself to speak, to consider what had been said; the words were little better than murmurs, or the crying of birds.

“What… ?”

“Odysseus has returned!” her slave repeated, and her smile was so broad it might have cloven her wrinkled face in two. “He has come, at last, and slain every last man who might have harmed you or your noble son!”

“... you’ve woken me from a dream of peace to tell me you’ve gone mad,” she answered, shaking her head and fighting to keep the bitterness from her voice. She was well and truly awake, now, far from the blissful, gentle oblivion that Morpheus had granted her, and as it slipped from her fingers she found it replaced with anger. “And I haven’t slept so soundly since my lord sailed to war!” The shaking of her head seemed to continue on without her command, a self-perpetuating motion that unmoored her heart once more. “You rob me of that for flights of fancy, for the gods turning your world upon its head? No. Hardly.”

She dropped back to the bed, turning away from Eurykleia, raising her shoulder as high as she might.

“Go downstairs,” she ordered, “and if some other slave comes to me I won’t be half so gentle. Your old age has earned you leniency.”

“My lady,” the old woman said, and her words seemed to bring a chill to the air, “I am not mad, I am not deluded, nor am I god-touched. He has come, my lady, at last, at last!”

She opened her eyes again; she was clutching the blanket, woven by her own hands, brought by her to the marriage-bed. A chill ran up and down her back, racing between head and hips; this time, when her heart thundered, it seemed to whisper of the storm.

“The beggar your guests were so cruel to,” Eurykleia said, “the one who strung the bow, my lady? That - that was him, cleverly disguised, hiding from all who might have done him harm!”

Before she realized it, she had sat up again, not bothering to cover herself but clinging to the blanket.

“What?!”

“He came in secret!” the slave cried, shaking with glee and grinning even more widely than before. “He and Telemachus - they plotted it together, the pair of them! He knew, he kept it secret, so his father might take revenge upon those who’ve despoiled this house!”

The cry that wrenched itself from her lips must surely have been heard on distant Olympus, and the flood of joyful, incredulous tears had to have come straight from the sea. He had come. He had come. He would end this misery, somehow, would save her, would safeguard her. He would drive out all who laid claim to what was his, and bring justice, and fill her lonely, aching nights, surely, surely -

She fell into Eurykleia’s arms, clinging to the woman, the thrice-blessed and thrice-beloved nurse who had as good as raised her lord, her king.

“I’m saved,” she said, the words mangled by hair and mantle and flesh and bone, “I’m saved, he’s come for me - !”

She froze, fear once more stabbing up from her belly and into her chest. Her hands were shaking. Slain, she thought, shaking her head once more. Slain. She said -

“You said he’s - he’s killed all of them?”

“To a man, my lady!” Eurykleia crowed.

No, she thought, sinking back onto the floor by the bed. No.

“No,” she said aloud, “no - no man might - alone? How - how could he, when they were so many, and he had only our son by his side?”

She watched her slave’s face desperately, feverishly, hoping against hope that the answer would not be what she feared.

“Truth be told, my lady, I know not,” Eurykleia admitted, and the fear turned to grief and bile, and she wanted to scream a second time. “I know only that the doors were sealed, and that from within we heard a terrible sound of battle.”

“We?”

“All who remained loyal to him, those who were left behind and never faltered. We kept back from the door, and hid until the awful cries and clash of arms were over, and then - !”

“Then?”

“Then, my lady, I opened the door, and I saw the pair of them, my lord Odysseus and Telemachus his son, standing atop the corpses of every last man who ever came calling for your hand! Oh, you would have gasped to see him there, drenched in blood like a lion fresh from the kill!”

Her heart was pounding again, and she would have torn the blanket if it had been made by the hands of a lesser weaver. All of them. All of them at once, in one room. He - he cannot be my lord king, whose cunning and guile is legendary but whose strength of arms is not that of Ajax or Achilles.

Eurykleia pressed on, unaware of her mistress’s distress. “He’s piled the bodies and he means to purify the house with fire, to make this place lovely and whole again! He sent me to fetch you - come, come!”

“You were sent, surely,” she answered, and her voice was somehow grave and confident, “but by a god, and not my lord. Some - some god has come, and slain those vying for my hand for their crimes and offenses, for who but a god might do such a thing?” And he summons me to his side, as Apollo summoned Chrysorthe, as Zeus summoned Semele, and I may not refuse him. She looked past Eurykleia, to the empty door, which now seemed to have the likeness of a gaping mouth, with steps beyond it stretching down to the ferryman, and Hades beyond.

“He’s not a god, my lady!” Eurykleia insisted, as she rose listlessly and took up a length of linen for a peplos, pinning it in place at her shoulders. “I washed him, I found the scar from the boar! He bade me keep silent, else I’d have told you! It’s him!”

“The gods have their ways of coming and going, their tricks to trip up hapless mortals,” she replied, and began to bind up her hair. Zeus. It must be he, Alastor, Xenios, and now he has avenged the wrongs of man and spilled blood for the affront to guest-right he claims his prize.

“I would know if this were a trick, my lady! If - if I lie, if I tell you a falsehood? Kill me. You shall have earned the right.”

She shook her head. “I won’t kill you. Not for that.” Her hands dropped to her sides, empty without thread and shuttle. She was dressed, if hollow-eyed and miserable. “But - let us go and see my son, at least, and I may bear witness to the dead, and the man who slew them.” It seemed as if someone else was speaking, someone else, someone who was not sick with fear and fury at her fate, someone who was lifeless and resigned.

She let herself be led down the stairs by her lord’s nurse, who took her by the hand and brought her to the threshold of the courtyard. Each step felt as if it took her away from herself, further into darkness, into death, and indeed, here she was surrounded by the dead, their bodies laid out and prepared for the pyre. Before him was her son, busy with the flames and with the household - her own handmaidens, her much-beloved attendants, who had never forsaken her, and who walked among the corpses of their traitorous sisters as if they trod through fields of flowers. And…

… and him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, nobly erect despite a beggar’s rags, giving orders to what few men remained - she would have known him anywhere. She took three steps at a run before recalling at once what had happened, forcing her legs to halt and keep still with such force it nearly sent her sprawling to the floor. Somehow, she kept her footing, even as everything that tied her bones together demanded that she run to him, that she take his face in her hands and kiss him until the years ceased to matter.

But he was a god, in the shape of her lord husband, and she should not fall into his trap so easily.

She crossed the threshold, and found a seat by one of the fires, and watched him until he felt the prick of her eyes upon him and turned to see her. She watched his face turn soft, and yearning, and her resolve nearly broke into pieces. You know him, her heart whispered. You know him.

But - did she?

They watched one another for perhaps a breath’s worth of time, and perhaps a year, and soon Telemachus her son caught sight of their faces and their eyes, and he came up to her still almost shining with righteous fury.

“How can you sit by, Mother?” he demanded, gesturing to the stranger in her husband’s guise. “How can you be so cruel, to not welcome him? Not love him, when he has done all this for you?”

“Telemachus,” the stranger said, sounding so like him that it nearly made her weep. Her son persisted.

“You’re eternally hard-hearted,” he accused, “harder yet than stone! No woman in the world would be so cold, to sit there and watch him, as if he is not your master and my kingly father!”

She did not look at the stranger’s face as she answered, fixing her gaze upon his hands.

“I cannot speak,” she said, “nor meet his eyes so easily.” She let her head turn toward Telemachus, her eyes darting back toward the stranger now and again. If it is a god who has found me, he will know he has not caught me unawares.

“But - !”

“Child,” she said, “if it is your father, my Odysseus, who has come to me? We…”

Her breath caught in her throat. An answer, unlooked-for, had come to her, green sprouting out of the barren rock surrounding them all. She gathered up her gown into her hands, reminding herself of every thread’s place in warp and weft as she spoke.

“We have secret signs, that might reveal to us the truth of who we are.”

The stranger sighed, and began to smile, turning to her son.

“While I am dressed thusly,” he said, “she will not turn her head to look at me!” As plainly as if it had been spoken, She swore I would never be poorly dressed followed after, an echo of their last day before the summons to war. There were tears in her eyes, and while her son was drawn into some debate, she watched as the world shrank to the ends of her fingertips and her ears filled with wax. Perhaps I will not conceive. Perhaps he only wants me for a night, and will be satisfied. Perhaps I might leave this place and fly to Delphi and beg for a way to save myself from Hera’s wrath. Perhaps it is not Zeus at all, and so I am doomed, or saved. She sat, silent, still as the stone her home was built of, awaiting the end, numb and shivering.

And then someone sat opposite her, facing her, and suddenly there was a room again, and a courtyard, and a blazing, fragrant fire, and she was looking at Odysseus, clad in his own mantle and chiton, clean and gleaming in the rising and falling light, and watching her.

“Extraordinary woman,” he said, “to be so hard to me.”

“Extraordinary man,” she answered, “to expect me to be surprised by the face of one I lost some twenty years past.” She dared not be angry. He was a god, and gods were fickle. Better to catch him out in a lie, and then perhaps be rewarded, than to be mother to his bastard.

Anger flickered in his eyes, despite all her care, and she clung to her gown to quiet the fear that rose up to choke her.

“Eurykleia,” he said, not looking away from her for even a moment, “if I am to be cast out in my own house, make me up a bed, that I might face such poor treatment in the morning after I have rested.”

He had fallen straight into her trap, and hadn’t even realized it. She forced herself not to gasp, instead drawing in a deep breath, and answering with her own order.

“Yes,” she said, and prayed, and hoped, her voice would not betray her. “He is the master of this house, he ought to have a bed.” Another breath, in and out. “His own bed.” He looked at her, something shifting in his face, and she pressed her advantage.

“Have it brought into the hall, and pile it high with furs, and he may pass the night in the comfort of the thing he made.”

She had hoped for a quick, effortless answer. An affirmation, an agreement, that might have shown the truth of who it was before her.

But this man ignited.

“Kataibates, woman!” he shouted, standing up so quickly he sent his chair falling back until it cracked against the stone. He stepped across the distance between them, looming over her, arms gripping her own chair until it shook. “Who dared to move my bed?”

What?

She stared up at him, mouth falling open, watching rage and despair run over the face she had known so well in dreams and memory. He glared at her, hands twitching; she wondered if he would strike her.

“I,” she tried, and failed, snapping like weak thread spun by lesser hands, “I - !”

“The bed I carved myself?” he demanded, so close she could almost feel the trembling in the air. “The bed formed from the trunk of an olive tree? The bed I made you? Who? Who has seen it? Who has broken it? What man did I honor with a burial when I ought to have fed him to the dogs? How - ?”

But she had flung her arms about his neck, forcing his silence with her own weeping. Not a god. Not a god. Impossible, and yet true.

“Show mercy, my lord, and do not raise your hand to me in anger!” she pled, clinging to him, her tears soaking his mantle, the mantle she had made. He wrenched her free of him, eyes still blazing, and she flinched back and felt her hands rise above her head.

“Please,” she begged, “please, Odysseus, I - !”

He froze, even as he held her, staring at her, gaping at the sound of his name from her lips.

“I thought… I live in terror of treachery, my lord!” she said, feeling his grip loose, hoping that she spoke quickly enough to tell all before his patience wore away entirely. “Of liars, and thieves, who would trick their way into my bed, your bed, and be off with all that’s yours and with me.” She wept openly, and thought she glimpsed the gleam of tears in his own eyes.

“Helen,” she continued, “she - she never would have left her home, or abandoned her duties, or her lord, were it not for a god, and - and I thought - with all my suitors slain, and only one man, surely - !”

A deep, bone-weary groan filled the air between them; it had come from Odysseus.

“But - but you told the secret of our bed,” she finished, the tears blinding her. “You, and you alone, have seen it. No other slipped past my stone heart. Not one. I - I swear it.”

He let go of her, releasing her for one agonizing moment that filled all the years as his eyes devoured every inch of her and kindled a spark within her that had lain lonely and drowned by sorrow for many a long night.

“Penelope,” he said, and when she wept anew he drew her back into his arms and clung to her.

(chapter two, rated M, posted at the above link and here.)

#the odyssey #odypen #odysseus #penelope #odysseus/penelope #classics

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