Chapter Text
Just Keep Your Heart Where It Should Be
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day
The Great Prophecy, it was called. One that foretold the survival or end of this world.
A half-blood of the eldest gods
Shall reach sixteen against all odds
And see the world in endless sleep
A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap
A single choice shall end his days
Olympus, to preserve or raze
All knew the words, they’d memorized the contents. But one thing they’d missed, one thing they never knew of, was the second verse.
Spirits of soldiers, spirits of kings
Will defend the soul till the eventide rings
Teach him violence, teach him peace
Protect him, oh, great heroes of Greece
—
The last thing Odysseus remembered was dying. He’d lived a long life and had passed surrounded by what remained of his family. He hadn’t died happy, not entirely, but it certainly wasn’t a regretful death.
He’d expected to wake in the Underworld either way, but it seemed the fates had a different idea considering the fact he was standing in a room he didn’t recognize, looking and feeling much younger than when he had died.
Looking down and, yup, he was definitely younger, probably about the age he was a month after making it back to Ithaca. He was also translucent which was actually a bit terrifying to look at. He was so focused on trying to figure out what was going on that he entirely missed the other guy in the room who looked just as confused as he did.
It took an embarrassingly long while for them to notice each other and when they did…
Odysseus gaped, “Who—”
The guy beat him to it, hostility in his eyes, “What— who are you? Get back!”
Odysseus raised his hands, backing away slowly. “Easy,” he said, “I’m not going to attack.”
“Where are we?” The man asked, glancing at their surroundings with wary eyes and clenched fists.
He shrugged, shoving down his own panic and confusion, “Your guess is as good as mine, I’m afraid.” When it looked as if the man wasn’t about to kill him, Odysseus held out his hand, “I,” he began, “am Odysseus. And you?”
The man frowned, but shook Odysseus’ hand regardless. “Perseus.”
He froze, “Perseus? As in the ‘Son of Zeus’ Perseus? The ‘founder of Mycenae’ Perseus?”
Perseus looked at him as if he grew a second head, “... yes?”
“But… you’re dead.”
He rolled his eyes, “No, really?”
“No, I mean—” Odysseus sighed harshly, “I mean that you’ve been dead for centuries .”
Perseus looked confused, “What do you mean centuries? I just died.”
“As did I!”
“Then what are you talking about!?”
“I just—” he groaned, putting his head in his hands, “Why am I even trying?”
Perseus sighed, arms crossed and chin held high, “What even is this place?”
Odysseus looked up at him, “As I said, I don’t know .”
The other scoffed, rolling his eyes again before pausing.
“What sort of house is this…?” Perseus muttered as he glanced around. The walls were a faded, ugly white. The flooring, whatever it was made of, was rather poor and Odysseus couldn’t even feel it. There were some books littered around. He approached the one on the small table in the center of the room.
“A Beginners Guide to…” Odysseus frowned, “ Parenting? ”
As if on cue, there was a sudden cry. They froze as it wasn’t just any cry, it was the cry of a baby .
They glanced at each other before turning to where the sound was coming from. Behind Perseus was a door barely open by a crack, and carefully, they peaked in.
A woman, likely in her twenties, was pacing around the small room, rocking the small bundle in her arms.
“Shhh,” she mumbled, “It’s alright, Percy, I’m here, momma’s here.”
She had brown hair that went a bit under her shoulders that, much to Odysseus’ concern, already had a couple barely visible grey streaks. Her brown eyes were warm, but tired as she desperately tried to soothe the sobbing child.
Odysseus turned back, wanting to check the rest of their surroundings, only to let out a shriek at Perseus, who was standing right behind him. They turned to the woman. She didn’t move… almost as if she didn’t hear him.
What in the name of the gods was going on?
He left the room, Perseus slowly following him. There was another door and Odysseus quietly shoved it open.
It opened to the outside, some sort of porch that extended and led to a set of stairs. Along the walls were other doors, ones that looked near identical to the one Odysseus was holding open.
They glanced at each other and Perseus stepped out, making it halfway down the halls before disappearing . He was about to run out and look for him when he heard a confused exhale from behind him. Perseus.
Odysseus gaped at him for a moment, the other staring back.
“What the fuck?” He said, ever the spokesperson.
Perseus glanced around, confused, before walking out the door again. Shortly after, he reappeared in the room. A couple more times and—yeah, no, they were stuck here. During his attempts to leave, the woman had finally been able to get her son to sleep and had promptly passed out immediately afterwards.
After the fiftieth failed attempt, quite a while later, Perseus had given up. He wandered over to one of the chairs in the room and fell down onto it, head in his hands. Odysseus leaned against the wall, amused. “You done?”
Perseus looked like he was about to say something rather unkind in return when Percy beat him to it. The boy, having suddenly woken up for whatever reason, had begun to cry. The door was still open and Odysseus walked over and pushed it open a bit more.
Nervously, they peaked into the room and glanced at his mother who was dead asleep, yet began to stir at the loud cries of her son.
Odysseus didn’t know her well, obviously, but despite that, he could see the stress that weighed down on her. Despite how little he experienced it compared to Penelope, he knew the feeling of being kept awake, comforting and coaxing a young child to sleep to no avail.
With this in mind, he fully pushed open the door and approached the crib hurriedly, kneeling beside it. He placed a hand on the railing, accidentally rocking it. He froze, as did Perseus behind him, and they glanced at the woman.
She didn’t wake.
Now more careful with his movements, Odysseus reached towards Percy.
“Shhh,” he whispered, unsure if the child could hear him if his mother couldn’t, “It’s alright, go back to sleep.”
The boy continued to cry, but he calmed just the slightest bit, to their shared surprise.
“Can he hear you?” Perseus whispered, questioning.
“I…” his brows furrowed, “I suppose he can.”
Percy had mostly stopped whining, likely being comforted by the sounds of other voices, but he was still crying. With this newfound knowledge, Odysseus took a breath and began to sing an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him and Ctimene. He remembered it helping Telemachus when he was young and restless, and hoped it would help this child as well.
“Waiting, waiting, when you come home, I’ll be waiting… ”
Percy began to relax, his cries starting to quiet down. He glanced in Odysseus’ direction, but didn’t seem to see him. Interesting.
“Even if you’re the last thing I see, I’ll be waiting…”
From behind him, he could hear rustling. He glanced over briefly, seeing Perseus leaning with his back against the doorframe. His head was tilted towards the floor, eyes closed as if asleep.
“Waiting, waiting…”
Finally, the child’s eyes closed as he muttered and babbled sleepily.
“Waiting, waiting…”
Odysseus stopped a couple minutes later once he was sure Percy was deep enough in sleep. He sighed, standing up.
“So,” Perseus began, waiting until Odysseus was facing him to continue, “What time are you from?”
—
They passed the time exchanging questions and, eventually, stories.
—
“And they just— opened the bag? ” Perseus said incredulously, “They trusted the word of a small creature over their own King?”
Odysseus winced, “I hadn’t exactly made the greatest choices leading up to it—”
“You’d have to be a beyond horrible captain if that's all it takes for them to doubt your word.”
“They were tired,” he defended, “And weary. They watched Eurylochus question my decisions and took that as a cause for concern.”
Perseus leaned back in the chair, eyes judgemental. “Fine. Whatever you say. I still wish to have a few choice words with your crew, though.”
—
Odysseus gaped, “He dared to treat your mother like that?”
“Ugh, tell me about it.”
“I’d heard a bit about your journey and why it started but gods.” He sighed, “If I ever see that bastard in the Underworld...”
—
A couple hours later, they’d run dry on topics. Or, at least topics they were fine with discussing. Beyond some simple questions and basic information about their lives and journeys, they didn’t have much else to say. They spent about an hour or so in awkward silence before one of them said something.
“Judging from your attempts to leave earlier,” Odysseus began, Perseus glancing up at him, “We seem to be stuck here. Perhaps bound to something.”
“And what would that be?”
“I don’t know.”
“What a helpful perspective, Odysseus, thank you.”
“I swear to the gods, if you weren’t already dead—”
Percy began to cry again. It would seem he had raised his voice a bit too loud. Odysseus stood up, walking back into the room with a sigh.
“Everything’s alright,” Perseus heard Odysseus say after a couple moments. “Go back to sleep, you’re safe. Let your mother rest.”
While he waited for his… companion to return, he looked out the small window. Everything looked so strange compared to both their times it seemed. The buildings were made from a material they didn’t know, the carpets made from a bunch of fuzzy threads weaved together in a way he hadn’t seen before. The paint on the walls was half torn off and there seemed to be stains on them.
What sort of time was this? And why, pray tell, did the fates put them here, in the house of a woman and her infant son, instead of the Underworld where their families waited?
“How did you and your wife meet again? You didn’t say much about it.”
Perseus jolted. He hadn’t noticed Odysseus entering the room, nor had he noticed how quiet Percy was. Once he got over his surprise, he sighed, leaning back and motioning for Odysseus to sit back down.
It was going to be a long night, but at the very least he had company.