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Eurylochus cradles the infant in his arms.
It is the son of deceased Prince Hector, and Eurylochus looks upon that innocent face, that had cried at the sight of Eurylochus’s helmet, that had quieted into peace upon being held, and knows that this is a decision that he cannot hope to make. Not without—Eurylochus cannot. And so he begs, on his knees to the God-King, for an alternative. To raise the babe as his own. Ensure the babe’s past remains unknown.
His pleas are unheeded. He knows the prophecy will prevail.
Eurylochus knows well how dangerous the gods are.
And yet—
He is only an infant. He does not deserve death.
There were many Trojans that did not deserve death, but they were necessary to ensure his men would return to their families. His lover, his beloved Polites, has taken more than a fair share of lives, and Eurylochus has spilled much blood in his own right. But he is weary now, after ten years of war, and does not want to shed more now that it is over. Enemies have yielded, and Eurylochus hesitates over an innocent.
Choose, says the God-King.
He knows that defying the gods always ends in tragedy.
He knows that he would make himself a monster with his choice.
He knows that it is Astyanax or Polites.
And yet—
He hesitates, still.
And Eurylochus wonders:
If this infant is spared—
If he grows to kill Eurylochus’s lover—
If it could be prevented now—
And Eurylochus wonders:
If this infant is killed—
If Eurylochus becomes the monster—
If his lover could see him now—
Would Polites love him still?
And that is all it takes to decide that—
“I will not,” he tells the God-King, and the son of Hector is spared.
Eurylochus returns to the ship, the babe hidden within his cloak, and Odysseus is the first to meet him. His loyal second pauses upon the muffled cry held close. Eurylochus reveals Astyanax with care, and explains. It is much more difficult, however, to make that same explanation when Polites arrives to greet him, with a gentle tug to a private space aboard, and a soft kiss for his return. He knows Eurylochus, and knows him well.
“You can tell me, love,” he says, and Eurylochus tries.
He speaks of the prophecy and the warning and the danger of the infant that he had not killed. But he had considered it. He had considered it enough to feel the weight of the life in his arms. He had considered it enough to wonder what line he would cross. He had considered it enough to think of how easy it would have been to drop the son of Hector from the tomb he was found in. And Eurylochus had not, but he had considered it, and he thinks he can feel the stain on his soul.
“I would have done it,” says Eurylochus, and that is what scares him.
It was not truly about the danger, or the prophecy, or the warning of the God-King of a price that would be paid in blood. It was him. What he was capable of. If Polites could stand to be with him knowing this.
“But you did not,” says Polites, with a voice that is calm and so very certain of a goodness that Eurylochus can only see in the man before him, not within himself. Because Polites is warm and bright and everything Eurylochus is not. He takes Eurylochus’s face gently in his hands, and it is the kind of touch that makes Eurylochus want to break, makes him want to fall apart into the safety of it, because he knows he can afford to. “It is not you.”
“I almost—”
“But you did not,” repeats Polites. “And that is enough.”
And Polites is the light that Eurylochus needs as a guide.
***
Eurylochus cradles his lover in his arms.
It is a moment of peace along their travels. Home is not quite in sight, but it is mere weeks away, and there is only the small matter of acquiring enough food for the rest of the way, as Odysseus reports. Thankfully, there is an island with smoke nearby. Eurylochus leaves his second to wait with the rest of the crew on the beach while he and Polites scope out the island. Odysseus does not offer anything aloud when Eurylochus conveys his plan, but his gaze flickers to Polites, momentarily, and the smirk upon his lips is knowing.
His lover takes him by the arm, and off they search.
It is not as successful as Eurylochus had hoped. Lotus might be a useful resource for medicinal purposes, but it cannot feed a fleet. His men are relying on him, and the prospect of heading back to the ship empty-handed is unacceptable. Hunger is heavy, and the Lotus Eaters offer directions to something more promising. He returns to shore and gathers more men to join him towards the cave further inland, where they find a much better source of food to sate his crew’s hunger. It is a flock of sheep, and they are plentiful.
“There are enough for the entire fleet,” notes Odysseus.
Polites fires an arrow, straight through the eye of the nearest. He is smiling, radiant, jogging to the felled sheep, and waving for the other men to follow, to assist. Eurylochus motions for his men to follow, to provide aid in gathering the sheep to be brought back. None of them quite succeed because there is a cyclops in this cave, and he is displeased at their intrusion. Odysseus is at his right. Polites is to his left. Eurylochus stands before the beast and negotiates with wine.
It almost works. Except—
Watch out!
And Eurylochus is flung into battle once more.
And Eurylochus is shouting orders to his men.
And Eurylochus is trying to get everyone out alive.
And Odysseus is fronting an attack.
And Polites is offering aid.
And the cyclops is—
“He’s got a club!”
And Polites is—
He cannot process the scene. His mind refuses.
“Captain!” cry his men, as the cyclops brings down its club upon another.
Polites is—
“Captain!” cry his men, and it is a plea for guidance Eurylochus cannot offer.
Polites is—
Captain, says Polites, with his final breaths.
And—
Eurylochus finds that his own lungs are refusing to work.
And—
His heart goes numb. His limbs are heavy.
And—
Odysseus is grabbing him by the arm to pull him away.
And Polites is—
bright kind affectionate beloved bloodied beaten broken
—dead.
***
Eurylochus cradles a broken body in his arms.
There was a prophecy, delivered by the God-King.
And it says—
The blood on your hands is something you won’t lose.
And it says—
All you can choose is whose.