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Chapter Text

“How much longer-” The hoarse, whispered words sounded strange in the confined wooden space packed with armed men. The soldier was quickly silenced by a jab in the ribs from the man next to him. He was not the only man, though, who wondered how much longer they had to be enclosed in the dark, cramped space while hardly daring to breathe. The laughter and shouts that filtered through the planks were finally starting to quiet down as the silence of sleep settled over the city.

Troy. Odysseus allowed a smile to play on his lips. It had been ten years since the mighty army under Agamemnon’s command started fighting the war against the Trojans. It had been promised that in the tenth year, Troy would finally fall. Odysseus knew that the last battle was about to begin. He focused on taking deep breaths, listening for any sign of life or wakefulness over the thumping in his ears. His eyes met those of his close friend Eurylochus, who raised an eyebrow, echoing the question that had been silenced by those around him. Odysseus clenched his hands into fists before relaxing his fingers again, feeling for his sword at his side. He counted along with the beats of his heart. When he judged it had been long enough since any noise under their feet had been heard, he peered into the darkness around him, hearing the breaths of his men.

“Alright, my brothers,” he said in a low voice, his voice cutting through the silence and audible to all who needed to hear. He felt the suspense in the air and knew he had their undivided attention. The wooden horse that they were inside had been one of his tricks, though he could not take the credit for it. The goddess Athena had told him that a trick was the only way the Greeks could ensure victory over the Trojans, since face to face combat had proved to lead to nothing but death for both armies. The past week, the Greeks had been breaking up their camps while Epeius worked in secret on building a hollow wooden horse large enough to hide thirty soldiers. To the Trojans they would appear to be giving up. While the fleet sailed away until they were out of sight, the horse would be left on the beach as a tribute to Athena. The Trojans had taken the bait and took the horse inside their city walls, having to break the walls in the process since it was too large to fit through the gate. Now the Trojans were asleep after feasting the whole day. Odysseus’ time has come.

He signalled to Epeius to open the hatch. It had been installed in such a way that it could not be discovered by the inspecting Trojans and it had passed the test, luring them into a false sense of security. Dim light spilled into the horse’s stomach. After a careful look around, a ladder was lowered and the men started quickly climbing down and spilling out of the horse.

“Quiet,” Odysseus reminded them, unnecessarily. The men knew how critical this moment was.

Odysseus looked around at the men gathered on the ground between the horse’s legs, stretching and shaking out their cramps and undoubtedly the buildup of nervous tension. A few men lighted torches, the flickering light of the flames dancing on the reflecting swords and illuminating the sweating faces. He had to remind them what they were fighting for.

“Listen closely.” All eyes turned to him. “Tonight we make the Trojans pay. They’ve been killing us for ten years, and it’s time we start fighting back. Tonight we will be the ones doing the slaying.”

His words immediately took effect. Malicious smiles showed on the men’s faces. Nervous tension turned into excited suspense. If they hadn’t been surrounded by sleeping Trojans they were about to slaughter, they would have cheered. He allowed his voice to raise a little, the walls of the houses around them bouncing back his words.

“Remember your wives and your children? They must be wondering what’s taking us so long! They’re growing old, forgetting your face and the sound of your voice. They have no idea of your heroic deeds. They must think we’re cowards!” Growls raised in the men’s throats. “Do what I say and you’ll see them again!”

“Yes sir!” Eurylochus voiced. Odysseus almost imperceptibly nodded at him before he briefly went over the plan of attack again. When he was done, all the men said “Yes sir,” encouraged by how Eurylochus hadn’t been met with reprimand.

As a final encouragement Odysseus said to his men, looking them in the eyes one by one, “Ask yourself this: what do you live for? What do you fight for?” He watched their faces harden with resolve. He knew his answers to the questions. Penelope. Telemachus. With the faces of his wife and son in mind, he raised his sword and shouted, “Attack!”

Immediately the men dispersed. Doors were kicked in. Houses were set alight with fire. Swords pierced flesh. Screams of victory and of terror filled the streets. Through the broken gates, the Greek army invaded the city, dealing out death and leaving a trail of destruction. It did not take long for Odysseus’ sword to be painted red with blood. He let his sword take him to his enemies and found himself at the threshold of a palace built against the city wall. He heard Neoptolemus’ voice from inside, set on revenge for his father Achilles. He set a foot inside.

A dark figure stabbed him in the chest before dissolving into the shadows. Odysseus gasped and fell to his knees in pain, clutching his chest. His sword clattered onto the tiles. “Who… was that?” he managed to utter.

A thunderous voice answered. “A vision.” The pain quickly faded and he noticed his hands didn’t come away bloody. “This is what is to come,” the voice Odysseus recognised as belonging to the ruler of the gods, Zeus, continued, “if you do not deal with it right here and now.”

He gritted his teeth and picked up his sword, getting to his feet again. “Show me how,” he demanded.

“I don’t think you’re ready.” Odysseus scoffed, but the god persisted, “You must kill someone’s son, but be warned, you have not faced a foe like this before.”

He rolled his eyes and began searching the house for this warrior, climbing the steps to the upper level. “I know that I’m ready.” Every room he looked into was empty, apart from the occasional body bathing in a pool of its own blood. Neoptolemus knew no mercy. A scream was cut off and he knew he had reached the room the rampaging man was in. The young warrior pulled his sword from another bosom and showed Odysseus a savage smile when he met his eyes. He harshly took a woman’s wrists in one of his hands, dragging her after him, and brushed past Odysseus on his way out of the room to find his next victim, when Odysseus’ eyes landed on the person Neoptolemus had overlooked. His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor once again. This was the man who would kill him? “It’s just an infant…” he whispered.

The thunderous words of Zeus confirmed it. “This is the son of Troy’s very own prince Hector. He will grow into a man filled with rage, while the years take you and make you weak. The thing he will want most is revenge. If you don’t end him now, he will kill everyone you love. You can say goodbye to Penelope.”

Odysseus shuddered when he envisioned Neoptolemus’ vicious expression and imagined that mad rage being directed at him. “I could take him home and raise him,” he tried to reason, approaching the crib the unaware child lay in. “Or send him away and make sure he doesn’t remember this.”

“He will burn down your palace,” Zeus countered. “He will find you, no matter where you go. The gods will make sure of it.”

Odysseus imagined his own son lying in this crib. This child was the same age as Telemachus when he last saw him. His knuckles turned white in his grip on the crib’s edge. “Please.” He choked down a sob. “Don’t make me do this.” He turned his face to where moonlight spilled into the room. “Please.”

Zeus’ reply boomed through his chest. “You will not lose the blood on your hands. All you can choose is whose blood that will be.”

A deep breath was released through his nose. He reached into the crib and picked up the child wrapped in blankets. His tearful eyes scanned the room. He realised the woman he had seen Neoptolemus capture was this child’s mother, Hector’s wife Andromache. Holding the child close to his chest as he would have held Telemachus, Odysseus walked through the halls onto the balcony that connected to the city wall. He looked out over the city swallowed in flames.

The stench reached his nose and smoke pricked his eyes. No man, woman or child was being left alive. The baby in his arms could not be an exception. Odysseus had felt what would happen if he let this child live, and yet… He had not batted an eye when he killed the innocent people on his way to the palace, but this child reminded him too much of what he had left behind. Telemachus would be ten years old when Odysseus returned. He had not been there to watch his own son grow up. Maybe this child… Guilt gnawed at him from inside his chest. Odysseus shook his head, dispelling the thought. All he wanted was to see his son and wife again, be a husband and father. He would trade the world for it.

He stepped closer to the edge. “I’m just a man,” he said with a pained voice. He did not look at the infant’s face when he held him in outstretched arms. He raised his face to the sky, where he hoped the gods were watching. “Forgive me…”

Chapter Text

The twelve ships under Odysseus’ command did not waste time after the victory to start the journey home. The wind wasn’t in their favour, so Eurylochus commanded the men to row. After a few days the wind changed and the men not operating the sails could relax. Odysseus tried to keep his impatience contained. He would rather see his men in oars to add to the speed, but he had to grant them some reprieve from the taxing labour. The sea showed no signs of land, all he could see when he looked around were the other ships under his command, containing six hundred men in total. “Captain,” Eurylochus shook him from his thoughts.

Odysseus turned to his second in command and noticed he was wringing his hands. Behind him, a few crewmates quickly looked away when Odysseus met their eyes. “Eurylochus? How is the crew?”

“They want to get home to Ithaca as much as you do,” Eurylochus told him. “Six hundred men is a lot of… men.” Odysseus nodded in agreement, wondering what he was getting at. “A lot of mouths to feed. And I’m afraid we’re quickly running out of food.”

“Ah. Yes, a war will do that,” Odysseys couldn’t deny. He hadn’t noticed the food stores depleting, which he blamed his friend’s loyalty for.

“So what’s the plan, captain?” Eurylochus asked. Odysseus admired how much faith his friend always had in his ability to come up with a solution. He scanned the horizon. In the short time that he had been talking with Eurylochus, no land had revealed itself in their vicinity. A cawing above his head gave him an idea.

“See those birds?” he asked with a grin. Eurylochus followed his gaze to the gulls flying over the fleet and nodded slowly. “If we follow them, they’ll eventually lead us to land, I bet. There we’ll anchor the ships and hunt for food.”

Eurylochus raised an eyebrow in scepticism. “Follow the birds?” he repeated. After a moment of reasoning he seemed to come to terms with the plan. “Alright. Whatever you say, captain.”

“Tell them to pick up their oars again. Ithaca’s waiting for us!”

“Full speed ahead!” he heard Eurylochus call to the crew. “Full speed ahead,” they echoed.

The sun was lowering in the sky when the result of their haste showed itself. “Captain, look!” Polites bumped Odysseus’ shoulder with his own and pointed.

“What do you see, Polites?”

“An island… A faintly glowing light.”

Odysseus told Eurylochus to direct their course towards where his friend pointed and soon he saw what Polites meant. As they got closer, Polites wondered out loud, “Do you think there are people there? Maybe they’re lighting a fire. They might share some of their food with us!”

Odysseus kept his squinted eyes on the island. “Maybe.” He didn’t share Polites’ optimism. There was something strange about the island. “If there’s a fire, why is there no smoke?” he muttered to himself.

Eurylochus glanced at him, clearly having heard his words. “I say we strike first. We need the food, we have no time to waste.”

“No,” Odysseus told him. “I don’t think killing is the answer here.” He looked over at his other, wide-eyed friend. “Polites and I will go ahead, see what this island has in store for us.”

Eurylochus put a hand on his arm. “Are you sure? We don’t know what’s ahead, what if they kill you?”

“Then you have six hundred men who I’m sure would be willing to avenge us,” Odysseus grinned. He looked at the sun, which was rapidly dropping behind the horizon. “Give us until sunrise. If we haven’t returned then, I give you permission to set this whole island on fire. Find another island to get your food and-”

“Alright,” Eurylochus interrupted, no doubt not eager to think about what would happen if Odysseus failed to come back. He told the crew they were almost there.

Polites waved at Eurylochus after he dropped to the sand, followed by Odysseus. After days of sailing, it felt strange to have a sword strapped to his side again. He hated how it didn’t feel unnatural. After ten years of war, he had become used to wearing his gear at all times. He followed Polites to the trees, who let him take the lead into the forest. He drew his sword and told his friend to stay close.

It was dark in the forest. The depleting light of the sun cast long shadows and soon there was nothing but shadow around them. Odysseus frowned when he noticed it wasn’t pitch black. There was some light around them, several individual sources of weak light. A bush rustled and he almost dropped his sword.

Polites snickered behind him. “Relax,” he said, “it’s just a bird or something.” Odysseus adjusted his grip on his sword. The hilt felt too familiar in his hand. Polites quickened his step so he could walk beside him. “Hey, I’m serious,” he told Odysseus, “I know this all getting on your nerves, but you can relax.”

“I’m fine, Polites.” He ignored the dubious look his friend gave him.

Polites sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know the war was a lot, trust me, I was there too. And you need to realise that I know you, Odysseus. You’re tired of the bloodshed, I can tell from how you grip your sword. But the war is over now! We’ve left all of that behind us. I can say with certainty that there are no men hiding in these bushes who personally have it out for you. That’d be a weird trick that would have to rely on too many coincidences.”

Odysseus rolled his eyes, but he could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Anyway. See this as a chance to do something better. Why take when you could give? Show people that you can be trusted, try hearing them out for once. This world truly has a lot to offer, you know, if you only open your arms and let your heart take the lead.”

Odysseus suddenly found himself in an open space between the trees and he shot out his arm to block his rambling friend from advancing. Between the trees were small creatures that fixed their unblinking, wide-pupiled eyes on the newcomers. Most of them held glowing objects that Odysseus had noticed before. Some bared their teeth which, Odysseus noticed with discomfort, also glowed. “Stay back!” he ordered.

“Stay back,” the creatures echoed, unmoving. Odysseus wasn’t sure if they warned them to stay back too, or if the creatures were just repeating sounds they didn’t know the meaning of.

Polites put a hand on Odysseus’ outstretched arm and lowered it. “My friend, greet the world with open arms.”

He realised he had unconsciously raised his sword at the creatures and he lowered it slightly. “We’re only here for food,” he told them.

“Food,” they echoed, still not confirming to Odysseus if they knew what that word meant or not. They collectively took a small step towards him. He noticed in the darkness behind the creatures more silently approaching creatures of the same kind.

He raised his sword again. “I have six hundred men waiting for us at the beach,” he warned them. When he looked behind him, he realised he and Polites were being surrounded. “Stay back!”

“Food,” he heard not only from where the creatures were visible, but from all around him. He realised he would never be able to overpower them once they attacked. He swallowed.

“If you do something to us, my men will burn this whole forest down!”

“Here you go!” one of the creatures that had managed to sneak up to his feet said. Odysseus took a startled step back and examined the round object that the creature offered him.

Polites kneeled down and accepted it, showing it to Odysseus. He turned it over in his hands before handing it to him. “See?” he told Odysseus. “They’re not all bad.” He lowered himself to the creatures’ level again to receive another one.

Odysseus realised he was holding a fruit of some kind. He sniffed at it and broke it open, which revealed the glowing seeds inside. This was the fruit these creatures fed on, which explained why their teeth also glowed. Suddenly, he recognised the kind of fruit he was holding.

“Don’t!” he warned Polites, who had raised the fruit to his mouth. “Look at it! It’s a lotus, it’ll take control of your mind if you take as much as one bite!”

Polites looked between Odysseus’ alarmed face and the fruit in his hand. “Okay,” he said, handing his lotus back to one of the creatures. Odysseus was ready to turn around and hurry back to the ships, when Polites spoke up.

“Hey, lotus eaters?” his friend said, the unblinking eyes focusing on him. “I want to show my friend here that kindness is a brave thing to practise.” Odysseus wasn’t sure the creatures understood, but they didn’t move and Polites continued regardless. “Do you know if there’s other food to be found somewhere?”

“The cave,” one of them answered, contrary to Odysseus’ expectations. He was pretty sure he heard a whispered “Scary cave” somewhere behind him.

“A cave?” Polites grinned triumphantly at Odysseus with an unspoken I told you so, before addressing the creature who had spoken up. “And where could we find this cave?”

“East,” a few of the lotus eaters pointed.

“Thank you!”

“Welcome.”

Odysseus rolled his eyes, trying to conceal how impressed he was. “I guess we know where to go next.”

“And all I did was smile at them and show them I had no intention of harming them.” He couldn’t blame Polites for gloating, because he had actually managed to get out of this with useful information. They walked back to the ship in silence, leaving the lotus eaters behind them. Before they walked back onto the beach, Polites stopped him. “You know I meant that seriously, right?”

“What?”

Polites searched his face. “You carry so much guilt with you. My friend, the war is over. Try turning those feelings into something positive. Greet the world with open arms.”

“I’ll try,” Odysseus relented. “Greet the world with open arms.”

Polites smiled. “You can relax.” He walked onto the beach, where the ships were waiting for them.

Chapter Text

As soon as Polites walked away, the sky darkened in an unnatural way Odysseus recognised as a divine being’s doing. The sounds of the sea and the rustling leaves stilled and ahead of him, the crew seemed frozen in place. “Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?” an angry voice sounded all around him.

“Athena,” Odysseus breathed, the goddess in question materialising in the forest behind him, making him turn his back to the ships. Her armour gleamed in the moonlight, the crest on top of her helmet rippling in the non-existing wind. She fixed her fierce grey eyes on him.

“This is not what I made you into,” she spoke. “Are you really so easy to persuade? Listening to your heart instead of using your mind?” Odysseus looked over to where Polites stood with a smile on his face and one foot lifted off the ground, but before he could argue, the goddess of wisdom and war continued, “Do not tell me you forgot your mission. Our mission.”

Their surroundings changed and Odysseus found himself in a different forest, facing younger versions of himself and Polites. Spots of sunlight coloured the forest floor, despite the still unnaturally darkened sky.

“I set a trial to test your skill. You accepted the challenge and proved yourself.”

Odysseus remembered. He watched himself run, Polites with a spear in one hand hardly keeping up, after a boar he was intent on killing. He didn’t know what had compelled him to attempt to kill it – he didn’t have the proper gear for a boar hunt. Perhaps it was just boredom and the thrill of a challenge that had lured him in. When the boar appeared to be too fast and threatened to outrun him, Odysseus sped up, which was when the boar suddenly turned around to face him, brandishing his gleaming tusks. The way the tusks shone was what should have made Odysseus realise this was no ordinary boar.

“I hoped you’d follow me so I could train you. I would make you a warrior who always had an answer to whatever problem he was faced with – a warrior of the mind.”

He awkwardly stumbled to a halt, unsure what to do. “Use this!” his friend shouted and Odysseus turned around in time to catch the spear Polites tossed to him. The moment Odysseus took his eyes off him, the boar charged, but Odysseus was quicker, already counting on being attacked.

“Out of the way!” he warned Polites, who hastily climbed a tree. Odysseus ran back the way he had come and he listened for it to follow and gain ground. He turned suddenly when he judged the boar to be close enough, using its own trick against it. The boar was too close to slow down or turn. Odysseus firmly planted the spear in the ground and held it at an angle, letting the boar impale itself on it. He let out a triumphant yell when the animal stopped thrashing, but the sound died in his throat when the carcass shimmered and faded away.

He suddenly felt cold and he looked around, taking note of how still his surroundings were. He raised the spear. “Show yourself,” he called out. “I know you’re watching me.” When he received no answer, he added, trying to sound more sure of himself than he actually was, “I can see you!”

“How can you see through my spell?”

A laugh escaped his throat when Odysseus saw the armoured woman reveal herself to him. “I was lying,” he admitted, and he couldn’t help but add with surprise, though he realised now how arrogant it had sounded, “and you fell for my bluff!”

“Well done,” she said sarcastically, though after having known her for a while, Odysseus could hear that she was more impressed than she let on. “Tell me, what is your name?”

The younger Odysseus set his spear vertically on the ground, the tip pointing straight up, mirroring the other’s position. “You tell me yours first, then I’ll decide if I want to share my name with you.”

The goddess smiled in amusement. “Nice try, boy, but two can play that game.”

Odysseus remembered how excited and nervous at the same time he had felt when he said the words that followed, hiding his insecurity behind cockiness. “I see how it is, goddess. No need to hide who you are, because I know. You’re the one they call unmatched in wit, the queen of strategies. You are Athena!”

The amused smile turned into a warm one. “If you’re looking for guidance, I can be the one to teach you.”

The grin on Odysseus’ face widened. “Sounds like a plan. Who knew I’d become best friends with a goddess today.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Athena warned him.

The young Odysseus pouted. Athena stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

The Athena standing next to the watching Odysseus did the same, lightly startling him. “I made you a warrior of the mind.” The scene around them dissolved. “Don’t disappoint me.”

With that, the sky cleared and time resumed as normal. Odysseus was alone. He blinked, trying to get the image of the piercing grey eyes off his retina, and hurried after Polites onto the beach. He had a feeling this wasn’t the last he would hear of Athena. For now, though, he had a direction to follow.

Chapter Text

When dawn appeared, so did the island the lotus eaters had pointed them to. The twelve ships moored on the beach, but Odysseus selected only a few members of the crew to join him to the cave. Polites and Eurylochus climbed the sandy dunes alongside him, the twenty-six men Odysseus had picked following behind. Having reached the top, Odysseus took in the view. It was a rocky place, but that didn’t stop green grass from growing in abundance.

“Spread out,” he ordered the men, “look for a food-filled cave. Be careful.” He wasn’t sure why he added the last command, but he felt that it was necessary. Compared to the war, a quiet island felt safe, which could make the men think they could lower their guard. They did as instructed. Odysseus jogged down the dune and took his bow in his hand.

He didn’t have to search long. His heart leaped in his chest when he spotted movement behind a large boulder. Without hesitation, he nocked an arrow, drew, and released the string. “Over here!” he called to the others. He ran over to the sheep he had killed cleanly. He smiled in satisfaction when he discovered that behind the boulder, the terrain sloped down into the mouth of a cave, where an entire herd of sheep was packed together.

Polites, the first to arrive after Odysseus’ call, chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe it,” he laughed, watching the sheep, “that’s a lot of food!”

“I’ve got to admit, I was sceptical.” Eurylochus appeared on Odysseus’ other side. “But this is quite the treat. That’s got to be enough to feed everyone!”

As more men arrived and walked up to the sheep in the cave who didn’t mind them, Odysseus narrowed his eyes, letting them adjust to the cave’s dimness. He had a feeling there was something not right, it seemed too perfect, but he was tempted to disregard the feeling. Polites had been right about the previous island – the lotus eaters who inhabited it had been no threat. He approached the sheep. They were healthy and well fed. “Why would the lotus eaters pass up on all this food?” he muttered.

The light from outside the cave was suddenly blocked off and a deep voice demanded loudly, “Who are you?”

Odysseus turned around quickly, his bow drawn in an instant, but he hesitated. A gigantic person, bigger than any of the greatest men Odysseus had seen fighting in the war on the side of either the Greeks or the Trojans, blocked the cave’s entrance. His broad shoulders and muscled arms indicated how strong he must be, but what was most remarkable about him, was that he had only one eye, in the middle of his face. Odysseus’ heart thumped in his ears as the creature he recognised as a cyclops slowly approached with heavy steps.

He lowered his bow and returned his arrow to his quiver, signalling to his friends that they should also lower their weapons. “We’re just travellers,” Odysseus managed to speak. He laid his bow at his feet and held up his empty hands. The crew followed suit. “We come in peace.”

It was then that Odysseus realised what the cyclops held tenderly in his hands. “Don’t speak to me of peace,” the cyclops spat, “when the first thing you do when you come here is kill my sheep.” Odysseus felt the blood drain from his face. “You have no idea of the pain you have dealt me. But I will make you understand. I will make you feel how much it hurts. You come here to steal, so as a trade I will steal from you.” The cyclops laughed, the terrible sound bouncing off the walls, echoing around them. “Your lives are in my hand now. I decide if you live or die. And so I decide that I will eat you, and drink your blood. It’s only fair.”

Before the monster could burst out laughing again, Odysseus cut in. “Wait! I think you misunderstand our intentions!”

The cyclops put down the dead sheep and stroked its lifeless head. “Tell me how the murder of my favourite sheep is anything other than what it seems.”

Odysseus swallowed. “I’m terribly sorry about the loss of your friend.” He looked at his comrades, who nodded along in sympathy. “It was not our intent to steal from you, or indeed hurt you. But I regret seeing that we have inadvertently done so, and to set things right I would like to offer you a deal. A… A trade.” He didn’t have to look at Eurylochus to know his friend was giving him a doubtful look.

The cyclops raised himself to his full height. His eye darted from one person to the next. “You want to negotiate your way out of this? There is no treasure great enough to take away the pain I feel when I think of how you brutally murdered my sheep.”

“Then you have not had the pleasure of tasting the world’s finest wine, my friend!”

“Wine?” The cyclops narrowed his eye.

“You should try it. Just one sip, and you’ll understand.” He had spotted a drinking cup lying on its side, so he walked over to it and set it upright. It was so big he had to use both hands. “After tasting the freshness of this wine, you’ll never want to eat human flesh again.” He hoped talking would distract the monster from paying too close attention to what Odysseus poured into the cup. “We will be out of here before you know it. You can expect no further troubles from us. A trade, you see?” He offered the cup to the cyclops.

The monster drained the cup without second thoughts and belched. The crew exchanged anxious looks, but Odysseus kept his attention on the cyclops. The cup was thrown to one side of the cave. “I’d like to thank you.” The crew collectively released a breath. “Tell me your name, stranger.”

Odysseus looked into the cyclops’ single eye. “My name is Nobody.”

“Hm. Nobody, my gift to you… in exchange for this wine… is that you will be the last man… I kill.”

“What?”

The cyclops approached with huge strides, his heavy steps making the cave tremble. The men watched, frozen in their spots.

“Watch out!” Odysseus drew his sword. “Pick up your weapons!”

The crew retrieved the weapons they had put on the floor and stood in formation, their swords ready to attack. They charged as one. The cyclops roared and tried to trample them under his feet, making the men scatter. Some of them got close enough to fight back, but they did little more than scratch the thick skin.

Odysseus screamed orders at the men. “Attack from behind! Watch out! Stay in his blind spot! Get out of his reach! Strike the heels! Surround him!” It was difficult to organise them, but at least the cyclops hadn’t managed to wound any of them. The cyclops’ stamping and roaring made the cave crumble more and more. The sheep bleated in panic. The men repeated their commander’s orders to show their acknowledgement.

“If we don’t kill him now, he’ll go after our friends at the beach! It’s only one life to take! It’s six hundred lives against one! We must survive! Fight for your lives!” Just as he had done in the war against the Trojans, Odysseus shouted anything that came to mind to encourage his men. It always boiled down to one thing: If you don’t fight, you’ll die. He didn’t have time to think about how tired he was getting of fighting for his life. “Push forward!”

Slowly but surely, they managed to drive him to the back of the cave. The cyclops screamed in anger and pain. He reached into a dark corner and before Odysseus realised what was happening, he heard a sickening crunch and Polites was lying at his feet, his head bleeding. His friend’s pained eyes met his. “Captain…”

“Enough,” the cyclops said darkly. He swung his club and brought it down onto Odysseus’ friend’s hurt body, ending his life with one final blow.

Odysseus’ vision blurred. The cave seemed to spin around him. Someone screamed in panic. The cyclops’ club produced more horrific sounds when it connected with man after man. Someone’s scream for help was cut off. Blood continued flowing down Polites’ lifeless forehead and cheeks.

“You’ve hurt me enough,” the cyclops was saying while he killed off Odysseus’ men. “This is your payment for killing my friend. You will not escape! I will kill every one of you, to the last six hundredth man! You won’t live through this day, now d-” He made a strangled noise. “Die…” The cave shook when the cyclops collapsed to the floor with a thud.

Odysseus couldn’t take his eyes off the lifeless form in front of him. His ears rang in the sudden silence. His cheeks were wet.

Eurylochus’ voice pierced through the white noise. “Captain!”

He took a breath and with great effort tore his eyes away from where Polites lay. He turned his gaze to the cyclops. His massive unconscious body blocked the cave’s exit.

“We have to act quickly, before he wakes up,” Odysseus told Eurylochus, his choked voice carrying to the men. “He didn’t notice I mixed lotus in his wine.”

“Captain, what do we do with them?”

Odysseus reluctantly turned his eyes towards the bloodied, lifeless bodies that had fallen victim to the cyclops’ anger. They were no better off than Polites. A handful of men stood to the side, awaiting Odysseus’ instructions. He realised he had to spur them into action before shock settled in and they’d start shutting down like he just had.

He joined the small group of survivors and laid his hand on the shoulder of one of them. “We can’t bury them, we need to carry on. All we can do to honour them for now is to remember them. Their deaths will not have been for nothing.” The soldiers nodded weakly. Odysseus clapped his hands together. “Now listen.” He explained his plan to escape the cave.

The men immediately set to work. One soldier lighted a fire. The others lifted the giant club and carried it away from the sleeping form of the cyclops. With their swords, they hacked away at the end to sharpen it. When Odysseus deemed it sharp enough, they used the fire to harden the tip.

“Let’s kill him,” one of the men growled.

“We can’t,” Odysseus shot down the idea. “His body is in the way of the exit, if we kill him now we won’t be able to get out.”

“Then where do we attack him?”

Odysseus grinned, his eyes glinting. “Let’s stab him in the eye.”

With a grunt, they lifted the heavy wooden spear onto their shoulders. “Now!” They pushed forward, driving the pointed pole deep into the socket. The cyclops let out a deafening roar that cut through the bone. “Scatter!” He fled to the sheep, amongst which he and the remaining crew hid.

The cyclops crawled a few paces out of the cave, howling in pain. The cave crumbled dangerously.

“Polyphemus?” a deep voice that resembled the cyclops’ asked from far away. Another one asked, “Who hurts you?”

Eurylochus met Odysseus’ eyes. “There are more of them?” he said incredulously. Odysseus shushed him. “We should run,” his friend whispered anxiously.

Odysseus shook his head. “Wait.” Eurylochus started to rise, but Odysseus pulled him down with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” he repeated.

The cyclops Polyphemus took a few more staggering steps out of the cave and wailed, “It was Nobody! Nobody hurt me!”

“If nobody hurts you, be silent,” the resounding answer came.

“Don’t go!”

Odysseus nodded to the men. “Take the sheep and head to the ships, quickly.”

They herded the flock towards the cave’s mouth and out into the open where Polyphemus sobbed. The sky darkened unnaturally when Odysseus faced him.

“Have you forgotten the lessons I taught you?” an angry voice sounded all around him. “He’s still a threat! Finish it!”

Odysseus took in the cyclops’ appearance. His heels were bleeding from several wounds, but worst of all was his face. Polyphemus had pulled out the spear, leaving his face a bloody mess. Odysseus’ stomach churned. “No.”

“No?” Athena repeated.

He followed his friends and the sheep onto the dune that separated them from the beach where they would find the ships. He thought of the men they’d had to leave behind in the cave. He thought of Polites. “What good would killing do when mercy is a skill more people should practise? I lost valuable crew, I lost my friend, we blinded the monster. Is that not enough blood spilled?” He ran down the dune, toward the ships. “Is this what it means to be a warrior of the mind?” he spat. The sheep were divided among the ships and Odysseus climbed aboard his.

When he looked towards the dune while the ships were being pushed back into the sea, he spotted Polyphemus on top of it. His roar reached the ears of the crew and they looked up in fear, rushing to take up their oars. Leaning over the stern, clinging to the rigging, Odysseus took a deep breath as they sailed away from the island.

“Don’t!” Athena warned him, her hold on him loosening.

“Hey, cyclops!” Odysseus shouted. “When we met, we put down our weapons for you! I tried to negotiate, but in return you killed our friends! Listen to me, their deaths will not have been for nothing. Remember them! The next time you choose not to spare, remember how we could have exchanged favours and none of this would have happened! Remember me!” Odysseus became aware of his crew cheering him on. “It was the king of Ithaca who outsmarted you!” he continued. “Remember me as your darkest moment! My name is Odysseus!”

He turned to his crew and a wave of dizziness hit him. He didn’t see the smile that widened on Polyphemus’ face. He didn’t hear the cyclops call for his father.

Chapter Text

Odysseus wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if this was Athena manipulating reality as she liked to do. He could feel her anger more than hear it in her words.

“This is not what I made you into. That was reckless of you, if not sentimental.” She said it like sentimentality was a weakness. Knowing Athena, she likely thought it was. “Your dead friends are proof of how soft you’re growing.”

“Hey,” Odysseus protested.

Athena’s grey eyes bored into him. “Put your emotions aside. You should focus on leading your men, that’s what I made you a warrior for. But you failed, Odysseus. You failed me. So I’m leaving you. See how you fare without my help and guidance. This way, you won’t disappoint me or waste my time.”

Odysseus wasn’t sure how to react, but Athena’s anger stirred his own anger. He felt that she was wrong. “Of course you leave me now,” he accused her. “You’re nothing but selfish, prideful, and vain. You’re a goddess, you have no idea what it’s like to be human and feel the loss of the men you are responsible for – your friends. I don’t need your help anymore, Athena. I don’t care for the reputation your guidance could lend me if the consequences make me unable to sleep at night.” The goddess was quiet, but he could feel her anger had swollen. “I saw you as a friend, Athena. But I suppose that means nothing to you. Go ahead and leave. This way, you’re out of my head. I guess you won’t plague my life any longer.”

“I’m not looking for a friend. I told you not to get ahead of yourself! I wasted my efforts on you.”

“Oh, you claim you’re so wise? At least I know what I’m fighting for! You’re only fighting to be known. Tell me, Athena, if you’re so knowledgeable, why are you so alone?” He couldn’t help but emphasise, “You’re alone!”

With some cruel satisfaction he could feel that that hurt the goddess. She was speechless for a moment and a distant part of Odysseus’ mind started to wonder if he’d gone too far. But then she said quietly but no less impactful, “One day, you’ll understand. I can’t blame you. After all, you’re just a man.” Odysseus had used that as an excuse before, but now she used his own words against him as an insult. “Goodbye, Odysseus.”

The darkness around him cleared up and Athena’s form dissolved into silver mist.

“Captain?”

He was leaning heavily against the ship’s bulwark. He wanted to scream. He wanted to laugh. But he did neither, because his eyes landed on the island he could make out in the distance. Ithaca. Home. And above it, dark clouds that were quickly approaching. Already the ship was being rocked back and forth more forcefully by the waves.

“There’s only one more obstacle between us and home,” he told Eurylochus who eyed him with concern. “Tell the men to brace for a storm.”

Eurylochus relayed the command to the crew and the other ships. The sails were lowered and the men took their places on the rowing benches.

“Full speed ahead!” Odysseus called to the men. It wasn’t long before the full force of the storm hit them. They could no longer see the island, but Odysseus made sure they kept heading in the right direction. He and the others were soaked to the bone in no-time, but he swept the strands of wet hair out of his face and spurred the men on over the roaring waves that crashed into the sides and onto the deck. The wood creaked dangerously.

Eurylochus came to him running. “Captain, we’re taking too much damage!” Odysseus looked back to the other ships, which threatened to be overwhelmed by the crashing waves and capsize.

“Have them follow my ship!” he told his second in command. “I’ll make sure we get home in one piece!”

Soldiers were thrown off their benches. Odysseus held on to whatever he could find to avoid being flung overboard. The ships were tossed from side to side by the mountainous waves as if they were no more than toys.

“I don’t think we’re making it!” Eurylochus told him.

“Captain!” one of the soldiers, Perimedes, called to Odysseus. “Look!” He and his friend Elpenor pointed up. Odysseus looked and his eyes widened.

“An island… in the sky?” Eurylochus said uncertainly. Among the dark clouds it hardly stood out, but it was undeniably a floating island.

Odysseus grinned and grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “Eurylochus, this is great news. Grab the harpoons!”

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, but did as he was told, handing harpoons out to the crew and relaying the order to the other ships.

When everyone had their harpoons ready, Odysseus commanded, “Aim for the island in the sky! Shoot!”

As one, the harpoons were launched and hit their marks. The ropes trailing them were fastened to the ships, securing them in place and protecting them, for the moment, from the destructive waves.

Odysseus ran over to where he kept his weapons and geared up. Then he went to the nearest rope and tugged on it to make sure it would hold when he climbed it up to the island in the sky. A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do.”

“Eurylochus. You grew up with the same legends about the island in the sky. This can’t be anything else than the place where the wind god lives!”

“Are you sure?”

Odysseus rolled his eyes. “How many floating islands have you seen before? Trust me, this is the home of the wind god.”

Eurylochus dropped his hand. “So what are you going to do once you’re up there?”

“All I’m going to do is ask for help.”

“And what if they catch you off guard?” Odysseus hoped Eurylochus was just concerned for him, but he felt like a seed of distrust was growing in his friend. “You may have one godly friend, but don’t forget how dangerous the gods actually are – how easy they are to piss off.”

Odysseus sighed. “Trust me, I know. But look how far we’ve already come.”

“Yes, you’ve been very lucky. But what will you do when it runs out? How much longer until luck’s not enough anymore? We’ve seen what happens when you rely on wit – we lose men. People die.”

Odysseus noticed several of the men following their conversation and nodding their agreement with Eurylochus’ words. He had to choose his words carefully, because what he said next was not only for his friend’s ears, but for the entire crew. “I believe there is still some goodness, Eurylochus. I think leading from the heart will lead to kindness in return.”

“And what if it tears us apart?”

Odysseus furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean? Where is this coming from?”

Eurylochus looked away. “I don’t want to see another life end. You’re like a brother to me, Odysseus.”

“I… appreciate the sentiment. Yet you still doubt that I can figure this out?”

Eurylochus met his eyes again. “You rely too much on your cunning and the good will of the people you encounter. The world isn’t like that, Odysseus! You have to be prepared to fight and- and kill! When your ability to come up with a clever plan isn’t enough anymore, what do we have left to defend ourselves? You’ll have to take up your sword and fight!”

Odysseus was getting annoyed. He was afraid Eurylochus was expressing some valid concerns that could turn the crew against him. But he had to show them that what Eurylochus said wasn’t entirely true. “I will fight, my brother, when I need to. But only when our problems cannot be solved with reason first. If we lead with violence, we are bound to suffer losses ourselves too. Do I need to remind you that none of the six hundred men I took to war died there on the battlefield? If I don’t at least try to reason with the wind god, the storm might kill us all anyway.” He raised his voice a little for those of the crew who were listening in. “I understand that we’re all tired. Our journey is almost done, this is the last thing we face before Ithaca’s shores will receive our ships. Have faith.” He saw from the corners of his eyes that his words were received well among the men. Lowering his voice so only Eurylochus could hear him, he said, “I need to talk to you in private.”

He didn’t await his answer, but pulled him by the elbow to the stern where the helmsman took the hint and gave them privacy.

“I need you to realise what you’re doing,” Odysseus berated Eurylochus. “If you express your doubts time and time again in front of the crew, they’ll start doubting me as well. I appreciate your input, I really do, but the men will start thinking all my ideas are bad. They don’t always realise that although absurd, my ideas usually turn out fine. I need you to agree with me, at least in front of the men, alright? Otherwise you’ll undermine my authority and that’s the last thing we need right now. Okay?”

Odysseus fixed him with a stare and he didn’t care if Eurylochus really meant it when he replied, “Okay.”

Relaxing a little, Odysseus put a hand on his shoulder. He made sure he sounded sincere when he said, “Thank you.”

He nodded to his crew and grabbed one of the ropes to start the climb to the island in the sky.

Chapter Text

His arms were sore when Odysseus reached the island’s surface, despite the winds partly helping him up. He found himself in a lush forest. The leaves swayed calmly in just the right way, a water stream flowed at just the right speed. He drank from the refreshing water and walked deeper into the forest. The sounds of the ocean below him were drowned out by the serenity of the place.

“Great wind god Aeolus,” he called out. He looked around, but received no answer. “My name is Odysseus. I am the king of Ithaca and commander of the twelve ships currently hanging on to this island, seeking refuge from the storm that lies between us and our home.” A rustling in the leaves around him made him slowly turn in his place, believing that he had grabbed somebody’s attention. “We left Ithaca ten years ago to fight in a war against the Trojans, under the command of king Agamemnon, to get his brother Menelaus’ wife Helen back, who was abducted from him by the Trojan prince Paris. After ten years of bloodshed and losses, the Greeks finally won and we were ready to go home.” He told the air around him about the cyclops they had encountered and the men he had lost there. “When our home was finally in sight, an impenetrable storm appeared to block the path to the island. The crashing waves have dealt considerable damage to the ships.” Still no answer, but Odysseus could feel the attention of the winds on him. “Now I come to you with a plea for help. Can you help us through this storm by casting the perfect winds for us, so we at last can go home?”

It was quiet for a moment, until the leaves above his head rustled. Odysseus spotted a blueish figure floating between the trees, but when he trained his eyes on it, the figure quickly moved away. “I am just the right one to approach, Odysseus,” a voice giggled, seeming to move around him, whipping Odysseus’ hair in his face. Just when he gave up trying to locate the source of the voice, the wind god appeared on the path in front of him, wearing a playful smile. Around their feet were creatures that reminded Odysseus of the lotus-eaters, but more healthy-looking and with the same mischievous glint in their eyes as Aeolus. “Let’s play a game!”

“A game?”

Aeolus giggled and flew another lap around him, as swift as only the wind could be. “Do you think you can get whatever you want just by asking politely?” They seemed to reconsider their words for a moment. “Admittedly, that might work for some. But I deal in games. If you win, I’ll give you what you want!”

The constant moving about of Aeolus and their winions were starting to make Odysseus dizzy. Too eager to think about it too much, he replied, “Deal!”

The wind god presented him with a large leather bag. “See this bag?” Odysseus nodded. It was hard not to, considering the way Aeolus was waving it in front of his face. “To win this game, all you gotta do is not open this bag.”

“What’s inside it?”

Aeolus grinned. “All the winds of the storm, except one, which will bring you home.”

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. “It can’t be that easy. What happens if I lose?”

The wind god smirked before they darted away, their dismembered voice sounding all around Odysseus. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

“Never really know who you can trust,” the winions chorused.

“You have to refuse if they want the bag open!”

“Sometimes you have to kill.”

Odysseus looked between the winions’ unsettling eyes. “What?”

Aeolus once again appeared in front of him. “The end always justifies the means, right?” They winked. “Friends turn to foes and rivalries. Now, be off.” They shooed Odysseus away, sending him a wind that hurled him towards the ships. Their laughter still rang in his ears when the wind carried him down to where his crew watched him with dropped jaws. He was pleased to notice that the storm had dropped. The winions that flew around him tossed him the bag, which he barely managed to catch at the same time that his feet made contact with the deck. The bulging bag was lighter than he expected. He immediately assumed a tight grip on it.

“What happened?” Perimedes asked, not the only one who was eyeing the bag. “What have you got there?”

His friend Elpenor added, “Show us what they gave you!”

Odysseus tried to dismiss it as casually as he could manage. “It’s something dangerous. Now, listen everyone! The wind god Aeolus has been so kind as to clear the way for us. Release the ships and let’s go home!” A muted cheer rose.

While the crew slashed at the ropes that bound the ships to the floating island and raised the sails, Odysseus looked out over the still water. He couldn’t see Ithaca. The storm must have blown them further away than he hoped.

“Open the bag,” Perimedes said, having crept up behind Odysseus, shaking him from his thoughts. His fist tightened around the bound opening when he looked back and saw that a few members of the crew had gathered around him. Eurylochus stood a few paces away, keeping an eye on the proceedings. Odysseus straightened his back, refusing to be intimidated.

“Show us what’s inside,” another man demanded.

“It’s treasure!” a winion, who Odysseus hadn’t realised was still there, said gleefully. It winked and waved, before flying back to the island that was slowly disappearing from view.

“It’s not!” Odysseus was quick to retort, but it was too late. The men’s eyes were alight with greed and jealousy.

Elpenor narrowed his eyes at his captain. “Surely you don’t plan to keep it all for yourself, do you? As your crew, we are entitled to a share of the treasure.”

Odysseus raised his voice. “Listen to me. I assure you, what’s in this bag is not treasure. This bag must remain closed – it has the winds of the storm inside. If we allow this bag to open, the storm will continue to torment us with its full force. The rumour that’s it’s treasure is false, do you hear me?”

The men lowered their eyes and mumbled their assent.

“Do you understand?” Odysseus asked more forcefully, looking them in the eyes.

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“Now, back to your stations.”

The men left him alone on the prow and Odysseus’ shoulders sagged. He fixed his gaze on the horizon once more. A moment later, Eurylochus quietly joined him.

The west wind Zephyrus carried the fleet gently over the waves. When the sun dropped in the sea behind them, Eurylochus laid a hand on Odysseus shoulder and offered him food. When the sky was dark, Eurylochus advised him to go to sleep. Odysseus looked at the stars.

The next morning, Eurylochus found him in the same position, his hand tight around the bag. Ithaca was still not in sight, but Odysseus had to trust that Zephyrus would bring them to where they needed to be.

The constant, monotonous wind left the crew with little to do and made them restless. Aeolus’ words rang in Odysseus’ ears, Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust. The crew’s furtive glances didn’t escape his notice. Paranoia kept him up at night.

On the ninth day since the storm, a yell shook Odysseus from his sleep-deprived thoughts. He realised he’d been thinking of Polites and he shook his head to clear his mind. The men craned their necks to try to look past the horizon. After a moment, that due to his impatience lasted longer than he wished, he saw the outline of an island appear on the horizon. He laughed and a burden seemed to be lifted from his shoulders.

He imagined how the fleet would be greeted by the people of Ithaca. Someone on the docks, perhaps a boy, would spot the twelve sails approaching from the west. He would cry out, because never before in his life had he seen these sails – did they belong to an enemy fleet? But however torn they were, they were the same as the other Ithacan sails. The boy wouldn’t understand why everyone around him was so excited when they noticed the ships he’d been the first to spot. “Good job!” they would praise him. “Our king has returned!” And the boy would think of the stories everyone told him about how king Odysseus had sailed out ten years ago to fight in a war far away. “Did he win?” he would ask. And his father would put a hand on his shoulder and smile. “Of course.”

And when word reached Penelope, she would think of how it would appear to the people if she ran out of the palace, shouldered her way to the front of the crowd to be the first one to welcome the soldiers home. Then she would think of her dignity and summon Telemachus – he was ten years old! The last time Odysseus had seen him, he was only a baby wrapped in linen – to tell him to see if it really was her husband who was coming home. Unable to contain his excitement, Telemachus would bound down the steps and shout to whoever would listen, “My father is coming home!” And Penelope would decide that she did not care about her reputation if it really was her husband who was sailing into the harbour, and she would run after her son onto the dock.

Odysseus could see them standing in the front – Penelope was as beautiful as ever, she hadn’t changed a bit – he waved to them, they waved back, tears sprang to his eyes – how Telemachus had grown! Odysseus could finally be a father! – he jumped off the ship when it was close enough, he stretched out his arms to embrace them –

“Keep your eyes open,” Penelope told him.

“Penelope,” Odysseus said, but she took a step back. He turned to his son.

“Keep your eyes open,” Telemachus told him.

“You’re so big,” Odysseus said, trying to hug him.

“Odysseus!” Penelope said. “Wake up!”

He realised how tired he was. He realised how empty his hands were.

“They’re opening the bag, wake up!”

The ship jolted and Odysseus’ eyes flew open. His heart sank and an ice-cold feeling spread through his limbs when he saw the dark clouds, the panicked men on board, the waves lifting and dropping the fleet. The opened bag.

“NO!” he roared, feeling his dream of home become more and more distant with every gust of wind that left the bag and joined the storm that carried them far, far away. “Where is the storm taking us?”

Aeolus, who he knew was close, appeared, a knowing smile on their face. “I told you so,” they said, blowing a raspberry. “I warned you, and you didn’t listen!” Odysseus refrained from replying angrily, balling his fists instead. Then the wind god shrugged quasi-nonchalantly and answered his question, “If I had to guess, you’re headed to the land of the Laestrygonians.” With a final wave, they dissolved into the storm.

Odysseus had only heard vague stories about the Laestrygonians. All he knew was that they were giants and that they were never portrayed positively in the stories.

After the initial shocking moment of terror, he gathered his thoughts to find a solution, as he had been trained to. He found Eurylochus’ panicked eyes. “Help me close the bag!”

His friend frantically shook his head. “It’s too late now!”

“We can still try to save some of the wind, who knows when it’ll come in handy.” Odysseus looked to where the bag lay open, pushing everyone who tried to approach aside. “Come on!”

They struggled against the winds spilling out and reached the bag at last. Eurylochus pushed the opening closed and Odysseus tied the string around it. Not all the winds had managed to escape, Odysseus was pleased to find, but the worst of the damage had been done.

The wind around them stilled. Odysseus quickly counted the ships and was glad there were still twelve of them. Then he took in their surroundings.

The water was dark. Jagged rocks rose from the depths and formed an island. Malicious eyes belonging to giants watched them. The water rippled, announcing the sound before they could hear it.

“ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA!” a booming voice resounded around the men and inside Odysseus’ chest. It made his repressed dread bubble to the surface, it made him want to crumple to his knees and hide below the deck. It made him want to hide under his bed’s covers, as if the person who bellowed his name for all the world to know was another monster under his bed who his mother used to assure him couldn’t harm him. “Do you know who I am?”

Chapter Text

Odysseus remembered whose offspring the Laestrygonians were. He didn’t need them to chant the god’s name to recognise the figure rising from the icy depths and casting a shadow over the ships. His trident alone told him enough.

“Poseidon.”

The water around the fleet began to churn. Waves slammed into the ships violently under the sea god’s scrutiny. Odysseus didn’t dare look away.

“For all the years that I have roamed this earth and walked on its ocean floors, it’s been a rare thing for me to get as angry as I am now.” The calmness in his voice felt to Odysseus like the quiet before the storm. “I have been nothing but good to you. I helped the Greeks fight against the Trojans, who have wronged me more than they have wronged any of you. When I was tasked to build the wall around Ilium, which is what Troy used to be known as, I put all my effort in it. And what a good wall it was! Took you guys long enough to get through! And you know what I got in return? Nothing! You have no idea of the lengths I went to ensure the Trojans suffered many losses in the war. Did you show me gratefulness for my assistance in your victory? Of course you didn’t, I didn’t know what else to expect! And now this.”

He touched the tips of his trident to the sea, causing the waves to get more violent. Odysseus heard the men on the other ships scream, but for some reason his ship was spared from the worst of it.

“The first thing you do when you meet my son is blind him?” Poseidon continued.

Odysseus’ blood ran cold. “No…” He felt the rough wood in his hands again. He saw the heavy spike impaled in Polyphemus’ eye socket again. He heard the cyclops’ roar resonate in his ears again. A similar roar was throwing the ships sideways and plunging the men to their deaths.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m the cyclops’ father. Is that how you show gratefulness?”

Odysseus saw a ship get slammed onto the jagged rocks. The planks splintered and the Laestrygonians on that rock immediately swarmed to the men and picked them up like they were no more than worms, tossing them into their mouths, their jaws clamping down around their middles. Odysseus’ stomach flipped and he looked away, not wishing to witness the inhumanity.

“You have crossed the line, Odysseus. You leave me no choice. Before long, you sly wolves will learn what it’s like to swim with the shark. I will repay you for the hurt you have brought onto my son.”

He felt helpless. There wasn’t anything he could think of to help the men calling out for him. The least he could do was give his ship’s crew a task to distract them from the worst of it, make them feel useful, but he feared nothing he could come up with would protect them from Poseidon’s rage.

“You, Odysseus, are the worst of all the Greeks. You claim to be a good man, always putting your men first. Yet you don’t give my son the relief of death. He’s injured and all alone, as he will be for the rest of his life. He is shunned by the other cyclopes. Truly, you were stupid to think your actions had no consequences. You only think of your men and yourself. You totally could have avoided their deaths now if you’d just killed my son then. Take this!”

Poseidon summoned a wave which took down another ship. The only evidence that there had been a ship there, were the pieces of wood that slowly drifted to the surface. The occasional body that floated up was immediately plucked out by a Laestrygonian.

“You made a huge mistake, leaving my son alive and revealing your name to him, Odysseus! You naïve man, don’t you know that mercy has a price? Luckily I have no mercy to give to you, because the sea knows no mercy. All it knows is ruthlessness, which is a mercy in itself. Take it as an example!”

Odysseus’ heart clenched when he heard the men around him beg the god for mercy, knowing they would get none.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you over your men’s pathetic cries.” Poseidon cupped a hand around his ear as if trying to hear better. “Are you begging for mercy yet? Trying to reason your way out of this, perhaps?” He laughed boastfully at his own theatrics. “I’d like to see you try and convince me you feel any remorse for your actions when you plunged that spear into my son’s eye!”

He knew he was taking the bait, doing exactly what the god wanted him to do, when he raised his voice. “Poseidon.” Odysseus had never quite gotten the hang of showing the gods the respect they claimed to deserve, which had never been a problem with Athena. He thought it was a trait she rather liked in him. But now he regretted not paying attention when the goddess of wisdom had tried to teach him which words to use when addressing a god. “I assure you we meant your son no harm. It was an honest mistake! We had no idea the sheep we killed belonged to him and happened to be his favourite! As soon as we realised we had wronged him, we laid down our weapons and approached him favourably. It was him who wouldn’t listen! It was purely an act of self-defence when we… when we hurt him… again! All we wanted was to get away, to leave him alone!”

He wasn’t sure whether the rumbling noise that sounded from Poseidon’s chest was grumbling or laughter. “The line between naivety and hopefulness is almost invisible. I’ll be so kind as to give you this one piece of advice. Close your heart. The world is dark. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.” He raked his hand through the water and with the upwards motion summoned a wave bigger than the ones before. “Die!” he bellowed.

Tsunamis separated Odysseus’ ship from the others. Boulders thrown by the Laestrygonians rained down on the remaining ships, smashing the hulls. “Captain!” he heard his crew scream. His own ship was at the mercy of the waves, nothing the men tried to do gave them control over the ship. All they could do was pray, which didn’t instil any hope in Odysseus.

As the screams quieted down, so did the vicious waves, until the water was still and only Odysseus’ ship remained. His men were as frozen in place as he was, staring in shock at where there had been eleven ships.

“What have you done,” Odysseus managed to choke out.

“Forty-three left under your command,” Poseidon informed him, sounding too pleased for Odysseus’ liking.

The silence made the raging and the screams of a moment ago echo even louder in his head.

Poseidon stood over the ship, his trident ready to strike. “Remember me as your darkest moment.” Odysseus recognised the words he had spoken to Polyphemus. The sea god bared his teeth. “Any last words?”

Odysseus looked his men in the eye one by one. Every face that greeted him wore a forlorn expression. They knew that it was too late for Odysseus to trick his way out of it, especially against a god as powerful as Poseidon, who they had just watched kill the majority of the Ithacan army. His eyes landed last on Eurylochus. He looked especially apologetic. For once, he wasn’t about to criticise Odysseus for whatever plan he had up his sleeve – he was begging for one. Which made him realise… His gaze slid down to the deck. His heart jumped.

“All I gotta do is open this bag!” In a single smooth motion, Odysseus drew his sword and sliced open the bag that by some miracle still lay on the deck. Instantly, the last trapped wind spilled out and pushed the ship away from the fatal island.

“WHAT?” Poseidon’s enraged voice followed them as they were carried out into the open sea, far away from the land of the Laestrygonians.

The remaining crew cheered in relief. Odysseus had saved them once again. They weren’t going to die today.

“Remember me,” the waves around them said with Poseidon’s voice. Odysseus shuddered.

Chapter Text

The relief, however great, didn’t last long. Reality soon caught up with the men.

The ship was in dire need of repair. The mast had snapped, several oars were broken or had been lost, and there were leaks. It wasn’t conducive to the men’s moods that they had to row day and night and bail out water. The food had to be rationed, because no one knew when they would get a chance to stock up on supplies again.

On top of that, they were in the open sea with no landmarks to determine their position. Odysseus had to admit they were lost. He caught himself snapping at the men several times, which he blamed on his lack of sleep. He had been awake for nine days in paranoia before the encounter with Poseidon, after which he had to stay up at night to determine their position using the stars. He couldn’t sleep much during the daytime because he was afraid someone would mess up and take them off the course he had set when the constellations had been visible.

Eurylochus also wasn’t his usual self. He was careful around Odysseus. If he didn’t know better, Odysseus would think he was avoiding him. He didn’t have the energy to confront him about it.

No one had a lot of energy. Everyone was stricken with grief. Odysseus wanted to do something, fix things, give the men something to do to take their minds off the past events, but there was nothing to do. Only sea around them and the repetitive motions of the oars dragging through the water. He had offered to take up an oar himself, but Eurylochus told him he needed to rest.

He tried. He didn’t like where his brain would wander when he wasn’t doing anything. He berated himself for falling asleep in sight of home. If he hadn’t fallen asleep, he’d be home now. All the men who had died to Poseidon’s wrath would be home. They would have been reunited with their families now. But instead, Odysseus had been lured into a false sense of security, allowing the nosy men to open the bag when he wasn’t looking. Aeolus had warned him, never really know who you can trust. For the mistake of those on board Odysseus’ ship, the men of the other ships had drowned. Odysseus corrected himself – it wasn’t his men’s fault. It was Odysseus who had chosen not to kill the cyclops, which had allowed Polyphemus to inform Poseidon of the injury Odysseus had dealt. It was Odysseus’ fault that all that remained of the six hundred men he went to war with was this ship with forty-three men. Yet they were the ones that survived.

He realised he’d somehow managed to fall asleep on deck when Eurylochus shook him awake by the shoulder. He was immediately on guard, a dream of dying men lingering in his mind, before he took in the mood of the men around him. The air wasn’t as tense as it had been for several days. Smiles were being exchanged and he hadn’t even realised the absence of light-hearted conversations between the men until he heard them around him again. The crew were pulling on the oars with renewed energy. He combed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on?”

His friend smiled. “See for yourself.” He pointed ahead.

Odysseus got to his feet and saw what he meant. It wasn’t Ithaca, but it was an island nevertheless. He exhaled, a weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Make for the island,” he ordered, which he expected did not come as a surprise, but delighted the crew nonetheless. He told Eurylochus, “Wake me up when we get there.”

He woke from a dreamless sleep when the rhythm of the rowing changed because of the shallow water they entered.

A moment later Eurylochus came to wake him. “Oh. You’re awake.”

Odysseus just nodded. The nap hadn’t been very refreshing, but he hoped he’d be able to get more rest on land with fresh food in his stomach. “Prepare for landfall.”

He went to the prow and inspected the island. It looked friendlier than the last ones they’d visited, but he knew not to get too comfortable. The forest that started at the edge of the beach could harbour all kinds of danger.

When the keel grated in the sand, Odysseus was among the first to set foot on the shore. He inspected the damage done to the ship and winced. It was worse than he thought. It would need to be repaired before they could leave again.

Odysseus was already making plans to tackle the problems of the ship and the island, when Eurylochus approached him, a subdued expression on his face. “Captain. There’s something I need to get off my chest.”

“We need to make sure this island is secure,” Odysseus told him. “Can you take a search party with you into the forest? I’ll stay here with the other half of the men and take care of the ship.”

“But captain…”

Odysseus took a closer look at his hesitating friend. “Whatever you need to say will have to wait a bit. Our first priority is to make sure we’re safe, because for the moment, we’re stuck here.”

Eurylochus lowered his eyes. “Okay.”

He gathered twenty-one men and took them into the forest. Odysseus watched them go before he turned to the remaining other twenty-one. He told them what was needed to repair the ship and divided the tasks among them. He supervised and helped chop the wood that some of them brought from the forest. It felt like they had only just started when one of the men warned him about someone approaching them.

Odysseus set down his axe and wiped the sweat from his brow. He frowned when he saw Eurylochus run down the beach, stumbling in the sand. He came to a stop in front of Odysseus, panting heavily.

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” Odysseus said, looking over to the forest, his concern growing. “Where’s the rest of the men?”

Eurylochus took greedy sips from the cup someone thoughtfully offered him. Odysseus took in his distress and invited him to walk with him, guiding him away from the hardworking men.

“Eurylochus, what happened to you?”

His friend licked his lips. “At first, everything was fine. We got quite deep into the forest without coming across anything alarming. But then we found a palace.”

Odysseus knitted his eyebrows.

“We heard a voice from inside, so we approached. That was a mistake. We weren’t prepared for the power that awaited us.”

“Power? What kind of power?”

Eurylochus sighed. “Since we left home, we’ve faced a lot of different opponents. First the Trojans in the war, then monsters, gods-”

“I know, spare me the details.”

“That’s just to say, those were creatures that we could stand up to. But this… It was irresistible. We are weak to a power like this.”

Odysseus raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t imagine what kind of great power his men couldn’t withstand, having survived as much as they had. “What was it?”

“A woman.”

“What?”

“She had us in just two words.”

“Are you joking?”

“‘Come inside,’” Eurylochus recited.

Odysseus shook his head. “Damn.”

“She promised us all kinds of good things. I can’t blame them,” Eurylochus sighed, “for taking the offer after how much they’ve had to endure. Only I stayed outside, but the rest went in. I hid by the window and watched as she seated them and served them food. I must admit, it looked delicious and I considered going in anyway. But then… I’m not sure what happened, she must have cast a spell, because… When they started eating, they transformed. First their noses turned to snouts. They grew tails. They started squealing and grunting. Slowly, their arms and legs turned to stubs. Fur covered their entire bodies. Their clothes grew too tight around their waists, so they stepped out and… She had turned them from men to pigs.”

Odysseus noticed they had stopped walking. He swallowed. “We have to go save them.”

Eurylochus looked at him like he was crazy. “No, we don’t! We need to get as far away from here as possible! Think about the men we have left before we lose them all. Let’s just cut our losses and flee.”

“How can you say that?” Odysseus snapped. “You know how many men have died. At least I can save these! I would never forgive myself if I left them behind. I can already hardly sleep with the guilt weighing on my conscience.” He took a deep breath to calm down and laid a hand on Eurylochus’ shoulder. “I would also rather run,” he levelled with him, “but I can’t let myself do that. There’s no length I wouldn’t go if it was you I had to save. I can only hope you’d do the same for me.”

Eurylochus looked away and continued their walk, shaking off Odysseus’ hand. “She’s a clever witch. She knows how to use her voice to deceive you. Will you at least leave if it turns out you can’t kill her?”

Odysseus didn’t think he would. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to play this game of hers, you know.”

He stopped. “I have to try.” He turned his back on Eurylochus and walked back the ship and the men. It was obvious that Eurylochus had no faith in him. It was as if nothing had changed since Odysseus had sliced open the wind bag and got them away from Poseidon. It had been his wits that saved them then, and he would use his wits to save his men now. He owed it to his crew that he should at least try to save them.

Chapter Text

Odysseus walked through the forest without a clear plan. Before blindly going after the witch who had turned his men into pigs, he’d picked up his sword, a dagger and his bow and arrows. He hoped he wouldn’t need them, but he didn’t like to go stumbling into the palace defenceless. He had to find the place first, which was harder now that the sun was nearing the end of its course through the sky.

A giggle made him stop in his tracks. He searched the trees where he thought the sound had come from. Another laugh made him scan higher up, but he still couldn’t locate the source. He became aware of an unsettling feeling that had come over him. He grabbed his bow.

“I must say, what a brilliant speech you gave your friend there,” the voice told him, a grin sounding through.

“Who’s there?” He fingered the feathers of an arrow in his quiver. Whoever it was had been watching when he was talking with Eurylochus.

“Just a friend. I can help you get your men back. Circe’s a dangerous one, you know? You don’t want to mess with her. Only way to beat her is with the help of a… certain god.” Odysseus relaxed his arms slightly as a suspicion began to grow. “Someone who’s not afraid to… send a message.”

“Hermes?”

Laughter rang out and the god of messengers, travellers, thievery, tricks, and more things Odysseus couldn’t remember at the moment, revealed himself, the wings on his sandals and helmet carrying him down to the forest floor. The fact that he was in the presence of a god explained the strange feeling Odysseus felt – it was as if his skin was tingling slightly.

Hermes put both his hands on Odysseus’ shoulders, taking a moment to take in his appearance. Odysseus was taken aback by the forwardness of the god. “I’m proud of how well you know to use your words,” Hermes grinned, “but I’m afraid that’s not gonna cut it against a sorcerer as powerful as Circe.” He held up a hand when Odysseus reached for his dagger. “Your weapons won’t do you any good either.”

He plucked the bow from his hand and took a few nimble steps backward, as if challenging Odysseus to take it back. “I can give you a different kind of power,” Hermes teased, hiding the bow behind his back. “One that’ll put the odds in your favour.”

Odysseus didn’t need Hermes to convince him, but he knew gods liked to play games so he played along. He made a half-hearted lunge for his bow, but the wings on Hermes’ sandals flapped and he floated out of Odysseus’ reach. “What kind of power?”

Hermes flashed his teeth. “Circe can turn you into an animal if she so desires. Or she can make you fall in love with her, make you feel like she’s the only person in the world you’ve ever cared about. Better yet, she can conjure up a monster that’ll snap you in half in the blink of an eye! But with my help, you can beat her.” He winked.

Odysseus thought it best not to show his impatience. He tried not to think about the fates of his men if he failed. “What do I do?”

The floating god let out a gleeful whoop and lowered himself again. He kneeled down and started digging in the dirt, Odysseus’ bow seeming to have vanished into thin air. “There’s this root, you see,” Hermes told him. “Here we go.” He delicately pulled out a frail black root from which a white flower grew. He held it up in front of his eyes with one hand, putting his other arm over Odysseus’ shoulders. “If you consume this root, you’ll receive the power to take on Circe. What you’re gonna do is use your imagination to think of a creature so terrible that it can beat whatever being she’ll manifest. I trust you can think of something, right? But remember this, my friend, the effects will fade once you’ve beaten her. Or if- Well, let’s see what’ll happen.”

“Ah.” Odysseus hoped Hermes’ trust in him wasn’t misplaced.

Hermes offered the plant to Odysseus but pulled his hand away before he could take it. “I call this root holy moly!” he laughed.

Odysseus didn’t think he got the joke so he just smiled and nodded. He took the plant offered to him and bit off its roots. A warm feeling spread through his mouth when he chewed and started coursing through his entire body after he swallowed. He felt reenergised, as if the last proper rest he’d had hadn’t been at least ten years ago, and he looked at Hermes with renewed respect. His throat burned in the way a strong wine would. When he breathed out, he could imagine he saw his breath billow out as a cloud like on a cold day.

Hermes gave him a final elbow nudge and started flying away.

“Hermes!” Odysseus stopped him. “Thank you.”

The god gave him a faint smile. “Oh, don’t thank me, friend. You may die yet.” Then he chuckled and blew him a kiss. “Good luck!” Where he vanished, Odysseus’ bow dropped to the earth.

In good spirits, Odysseus picked up the search for Circe’s palace. He had a plan. He felt like he was glowing.

It wasn’t long before he found the lights that shone out from the palace, a beacon in the newly settled darkness. He observed the palace from a distance before entering. In front of the palace’s open gates was a beautiful garden with flowers, some of which Odysseus did and others didn’t recognise. Wide open windows looked out into the garden and allowed Odysseus to see inside. There were nymphs walking to and fro in pairs, laughing and carrying all sorts of dinnerware, clearing the long table with countless chairs around it. There was no sign of the men that the sorceress had transformed into pigs.

Deciding that any moment was as good as the next, Odysseus strode through the garden and stepped across the threshold. The few nymphs that noticed him gasped and quietly cleared off. Taking in the high-ceilinged room with its flowery decorations and illustrative tapestries, Odysseus spotted the woman who was undoubtedly the witch in question. She was facing away from him, in conversation with one of the nymphs.

“Lady of the palace,” Odysseus addressed her, his voice ringing through the hall. Every eye turned to him, except Circe’s. All conversations fell silent. The nymph she had been talking to quickly left the room, as did the others. Circe straightened her back. Odysseus knew he had her attention. “I hope I’ve been misinformed about the events that took place earlier today. You see, I sent out a group of scouts to explore this island and they ended up here. Now we haven’t exactly been received with hospitality through the years, so I can’t help but wonder… Did you do something to them?”

“Who, me?” The sorceress turned around. A faint smile painted her features. Her eyes took him in from head to toe. She shrugged nearly imperceptibly. “All I did was reveal their true forms.”

Odysseus cocked his head to one side. “You turned them into pigs.”

Circe huffed a laugh. “You come in here without introducing yourself. You understand the impression that must make on the residents. Now imagine twenty of you, stinking and loud, pointing their swords at anything and everything that moves when they come stumbling into my tidy halls. I did what I must to protect my nymphs.” As she spoke, Odysseus could see the air vibrate around her hands as it would above a hot campfire. Her voice took on a more threatening tone when she went on, “If you make one wrong move, you’re done for. I suggest you get out of here before the same fate that took your men befalls you. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Circe raised her hands and on the floor between them a beast twice the size of Odysseus appeared. The lion head roared. The goat head next to it stared him down menacingly. The snake that the beast had for a tail raised itself up and tasted the air with its forked tongue.

The moly that coursed through Odysseus made him stand his ground, the magic warmth under his skin increasing. He racked his brain for a creature that could defeat a chimera. “Sorry to disappoint, but you will find that you can’t place a spell on me,” he grinned with a shrug. “You see, I just ate a flower that makes me immune to your sorcery. You’d better flee while you still can, Circe.” He felt the heat of the moly simmer around his hands as he concentrated.

“You must be a liar,” Circe frowned, obviously distraught by the fact that her creation wasn’t attacking Odysseus. “Only immortals can acquire moly. If a mortal tries collecting it, they’ll suffer.”

Odysseus scrapped the idea to gather moly in case it would come in handy later. “Then I must be a god like you,” he said, spreading his arms. “I got it from the ground with my bare hands, all by myself.”

Circe narrowed her eyes and laughed. “Hermes gave it to you, didn’t he?”

Odysseus rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, yes. But regardless-” He raised his hands like Circe had done and focused. He recalled the terror he had felt when he heard Polyphemus’ voice behind him for the first time. The horror when he towered above his men. The fear when he showed the ease with which he had clubbed Odysseus’ friends to death. He turned these feelings into a cyclops of his own, who appeared on the floor facing Circe’s chimera. Odysseus laughed, partly to intimidate Circe but mostly because he was doing magic and it worked. “We’re evenly matched now.”

The cyclops swung his fist at the creature made up of three different animals. His knuckles connected with the lion’s jaw, throwing the chimera to one side. A whine sounded from its throat, but it recovered quickly and the goat’s horns slammed into the cyclops’ chest, throwing him onto his back. Odysseus winced and willed the cyclops to get up. Concentrating harder, he made a heavy club appear in the cyclops’ hand. When the snake inched forward to bite him, the cyclops swung and crashed the weapon down onto the beast’s back, snapping the spine in half and effectively immobilising it. A pained roar, bleat and hiss sounded at the same time, creating a cacophony of suffering.

Odysseus quickly strode forward, unsheathing his sword. When the chimera vanished and the cyclops roared in triumph before following suit, Odysseus stood in front of Circe, his sword pointed at her throat.

“You’ve lost, Circe,” he told her, panting with exertion as he felt the moly leave his system.

Circe’s expression was guarded. She didn’t back down. “I have people to protect.”

“So do I,” Odysseus growled.

“My nymphs are like daughters to me. They depend on me to protect them. The last time we let strangers live, we paid the price. I can’t let that happen again. Like I told you, I will not give you the benefit of the doubt. You’ve given me no reason why I should trust you. You’ve not even told me your name, yet you clearly know mine.”

With the last slivers of moly that remained, Odysseus became faintly aware that Circe was summoning more magic. Not fair. “My name is Odysseus. Now, release my men or I’ll kill you.” He jabbed his sword forward a little to underline the threat.

Instead of widening her eyes in fear, Circe smiled. “Not so fast. Show me who you really are.” She delicately touched Odysseus’ wrist and he lowered his sword.

“What do you mean?”

Circe took him by the hand and led him through the palace. Odysseus had no choice but to follow. He distantly wondered where his sword had gone. Nymphs stared at the pair as they passed. Their footsteps bounced off the stone walls.

He was pushed onto a bed by Circe’s hand on his chest. She let her hand linger and a warmth different than the moly-induced heat rose to his cheeks.

“You want to save your men?” Circe asked, her lips close to his ear. “Show me that you’re willing to burn.”

Odysseus shook his head to clear his mind of the fog. He was aware that Circe was playing with him. He had to choose between playing along to free his men or not play along and be put under some more powerful spell – or die, either way dooming his men alongside him. If Eurylochus was smart, he’d get out of here with the remaining crew.

She smelled sweet. Her touch brought blissful forgetfulness.

He was her puppet. She was powerful. He would do whatever she asked. Anything to get home. I’m just a man. Anything to get back to Penelope. Penelope. Forgive me, Penelope.

He broke. “I can’t.”

Odysseus pushed Circe aside and moved to the other side of the room, creating as much space between himself and the sorceress as he could. His heart thumped in his ears. He refused to look at her.

“I have a wife. Penelope. I- I miss her. So much. I can’t do this to her. She’s waiting for me. It’s been…” His breath hitched. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I had to say goodbye to her. Ten years? Twenty? A hundred? It feels like an eternity.”

He turned around, expecting to see a hurt expression on Circe’s face. Instead, she had her lips pursed while she looked at the floor, hiding her hands behind her back.

“I just want to go home, Circe. But now the god of tides is out to end my life, prolonging the time until I can see her again.” He went back to her and knelt down onto the floor in front of her, into her line of sight. “Please, Circe. I ask for your sympathy. Will you release us?”

Circe sighed and wiped the tears from his face. “Poseidon, eh?” Odysseus’ confusion must have shown on his face, because Circe chuckled softly. “I might know a way to evade him. It’s far from safe, but it’s your only hope if you want to get past him.”

Odysseus scrambled to his feet when Circe walked over to a window and stared out into the night.

“I know a brilliant prophet. Tiresias. He can see the future and tell you how to proceed. Only problem is… He’s dead.” She turned around to the dumbfounded Odysseus with an apologetic shrug. “I can’t help you get home, but I can get you to the Underworld. I’ll even return your men to you.”

Odysseus found his voice again. “You’re helping us? Why?”

Circe averted her eyes. She turned a dagger over in her hands. “I know love. I’ve been in love before. Maybe showing you an act of kindness will lead to more good things. I don’t know.” She chuckled and combed a hand through her hair. “Maybe the world will be kinder if I show it kindness first.”

Her words sent a jab of pain through his heart with how they reminded him of his dead friend. Maybe Polites had been right.

The sorceress led the way to the pen where the pigs were held. In the blink of an eye, they were transformed back into the men Odysseus knew. They looked around at each other with dazed expressions, until they noticed Odysseus and started celebrating, expressing their faith in their captain to defeat the witch.

Odysseus silenced them. “I did not defeat Circe. She has decided to help us.”

Circe made no comment on the half-truth, but instead invited them to a proper dinner and offered the whole crew baths to clean themselves in and beds to sleep in. Odysseus gratefully accepted and sent two of his men to summon the other half of the crew who had remained at the beach.

Wine flowed freely. The food tasted heavenly – though, compared to the rations they’d been restricted to on board, any food would. Odysseus made sure his men treated the nymphs with respect and assured them that Circe meant them no harm as long as they behaved.

They stayed on the island Aeaea until the ship was fully repaired and provisioned. The men dreaded the day they had to leave, but Odysseus reminded them of what and who they would be returning home to. He left the men who had died for their cause unmentioned, but the crew needed no reminder. They had held funeral games to commemorate their fallen comrades who they had been unable to give burials. They knew how lucky they had been to survive.

When the day came that they were ready to go, Circe explained how they would enter the Underworld and leave unscathed. Odysseus made sure the men memorised the instructions. Before they left, Circe pulled Odysseus aside. He was wary, until he realised she was returning his weapons to him. “I don’t know when you took these from me,” he admitted. He hadn’t missed them because he’d only needed weapons to hunt for food to stock the ship which he used other weapons for, but he didn’t tell her that.

Circe scoffed, personally putting back the dagger into its sheath on Odysseus’ belt. “Good luck.” She looked him in the eye. “Your heart’s in the right place. I hope you get back to your wife.”

Chapter Text

The weather was as grim as the crew’s mood. They were lucky it wasn’t raining, but the dark clouds felt as heavy as saying goodbye to the sanctuary of Aeaea had been. Odysseus was restless. He paced from bow to stern and back, trying to shake off the nervous tremors. Very few people had deliberately entered the Underworld and come back to tell the tale. Odysseus didn’t feel as heroic as the people in the stories.

The fog came up so gradually that Odysseus didn’t notice it was there until he could barely see the top of the mast. He stood still at the prow and realised it wasn’t only the nerves making him shiver. It was cold. The wind lost in strength and came from one direction one moment and another direction the next.

He could ignore the whispers at first. Then he realised they came from the fog, and the fog wasn’t the natural fog he was used to. They were the souls of the dead, surrounding the ship and watching, begging to be released. They had entered the Underworld.

Blank eyes followed the ship. The whispers turned louder, turning into tormented screams. Clawing hands tried to grasp at the wood and the sail.

Odysseus turned to the men and tried to gauge their mood. They occasionally stole glances at their surroundings, but otherwise kept their heads down, determined to get through this alive by focusing purely on rowing. It was unfortunate that Perimedes was one of the men handling the sail, which allowed him to spot a familiar face first.

A cold shiver ran down Odysseus’ back. He knew they’d be seeing dead souls, he just hadn’t realised which dead souls exactly. Now Circe’s instruction not to interact with them, no matter what, made sense.

“Elpenor,” Perimedes gasped, staring at the unseeing figure. He looked around the ship frantically as if to see if the others were seeing the same thing, or to search for an alive Elpenor among the men. Someone shushed him, but Perimedes choked out, “When did you die?”

He reached out when Elpenor’s dazed soul only looked at him and didn’t react otherwise. Someone grabbed Perimedes by the shoulder, pulling him back. “Elpenor!” he called, tears starting to spill. Others looked up with uneasy expressions.

“Remember Circe’s instructions,” Odysseus reminded Perimedes and the others calmly. “We’re only here for the prophet.” He couldn’t think of other words to reassure them. The screams were too loud.

Faces of his deceased crew started looming around him. Odysseus shrank under their scrutiny and cries. Monster, they called him. Captain, they called, never having let go of their terror when they died while Odysseus should have protected them. Five hundred fifty eight men who died under your command. Odysseus couldn’t breathe. Why would you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy?

Shut up, he wanted to shout back. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I let you drown. I’m sorry I let the monster live. I’m sorry- He thought of everyone he had killed in the war. He thought of the infant. I’m sorry…

“This world truly has a lot to offer, you know,” a dreamy voice drowned out his thoughts.

Empty eyes faced Odysseus. “Polites.”

“If you only open your arms and let your heart take the lead.” A hollow echo of the words that had been haunting him. While Polites remained in one spot, the ship slowly sailed past him. Odysseus walked in the opposite direction to compensate for the ship’s motion and stay near him until he reached the stern. His friend’s gaze slipped off him and continued unperturbed, “Greet the world with open arms.” He had to leave his friend behind as the ship sailed out of reach. I’m sorry.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he heard another voice.

“Odysseus?” The faint utterance seemed to stop his heart. It couldn’t be- “Odysseus?” the frail voice said again, closer this time.

Odysseus closed his eyes and shook his head before facing the direction the question came from. Looking back at him, looking through him, was the wrinkled face of a woman. He threw Circe’s advice to the winds. “Mom?”

“I’m waiting for you, Odysseus.” She smiled.

“No…” Anticlea had been alive when Odysseus left.

“When you come home, I’ll be waiting.”

Odysseus bit his lip to stop it from trembling. “I’m right here, mom.”

His mother just smiled, her gaze sliding off Odysseus. “I’ll always love you.”

“Can’t you see me?” he begged, reaching out his hands, wishing to be held one last time even though he wasn’t a boy anymore. “I’m right here!”

“I’ll stay in your heart.”

The guilt threatened to drown him. Odysseus had taken too long. I’m sorry.

“I’m waiting for you, Odysseus.”

She faded into the fog. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. “Bye, mom.”

The grief that the overwhelming presence of the past brought formed a lump in his throat. His breath came out as sobs. His knees gave out and he crumpled in on himself, not caring about setting a good example. I’m sorry.

When his eyes had no more tears to spill and his throat allowed him to breathe again, Odysseus stared numbly at the pleading souls. The crew remained silent and helped the ship steadily advance. He could tell they weren’t unaffected either, though, judging by the tear streaks he saw on their faces.

Odysseus forced himself not to move when he saw more faces he recognised. He hadn’t known these souls personally, but fighting alongside each other against the same enemy for ten years had created a strange bond between them. They were familiar strangers in a sea of unknown strangers. Then he saw heroes he knew by name. The great Ajax, who Odysseus had competed against to win Achilles’ armour. Ajax had lost and thrown himself onto his sword. Odysseus watched him float by.

Then he saw the golden Achilles himself, who he had often butted heads with but admired nonetheless. The impact of his death on the soldiers’ morale had been unparallelled. At least now he was reunited with Patroclus, another key player in how the war had played out. Odysseus watched them go peacefully, finding solace in each other.

The next person he recognised made him frown. As far as he knew, Agamemnon had left the smouldering remains of Troy around the same time as Odysseus. When and how had he died? He wouldn’t get an answer, because then a piercing gaze met his.

Odysseus straightened up. The old man’s eyes didn’t slide off Odysseus like the eyes of the other dead souls. This must be the prophet they were looking for. He met Eurylochus’ eyes, who understood and ordered the men to slow the ship down. They stopped rowing and lowered the sail.

Odysseus approached the prophet and noticed that riverbanks ran along either side of the ship. He jumped off the ship and followed the bright form of Tiresias. Other souls cleared a path when they came close and temporarily forgot about their despairs. Tiresias led him into a bare cave where a blue fire flickered in the middle. No warmth came off it.

The seer came to a halt and watched Odysseus for a moment. His eyes looked at him, through him, and beyond him. Several different expressions showed on his face in rapid succession. Then Tiresias opened his mouth, his voice grave but melodious, amplified by the cave’s shape.

“I see a song of past romance. I see the sacrifice of man. I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother’s final stand. I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath. I see a man who gets to make it home alive. But it’s no longer you.”

Odysseus blinked, trying to make sense of the words. “What?” If that was his future, it didn’t look good. “But- We’ve suffered so many losses already, are you telling me my men died for nothing? That can’t be it!”

Tiresias gave him a tortured, apologetic look. The blue flames flared up. “I see your palace covered in red. Faces of men who had long believed you’re dead.” He paused for a moment, a distant look in his eyes. “I see your wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies.”

A cold shiver ran down Odysseus’ spine. “Who is it?” he demanded.

The eyes focused on him again. The prophet repeated his earlier words. “I see a song of past romance. I see the sacrifice of man. I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother’s final stand. I see you on the brink of death. I see you draw your final breath. I see a man who gets to make it home alive.” His words took on a warning tone. “But it’s no longer you.”

“I don’t understand!” Odysseus argued, though dread was beginning to settle in his stomach like a rock. The flames sparked dangerously before dying out, vanishing along with the seer’s form. “What does it mean?” he questioned the empty space around him without getting the answer.

Now that the prestigious prophet was gone, the dead souls started to close in on him. One managed to reach out and touch his ankle with their deadly cold fingers. Odysseus jumped away, almost into the arms of another soul. He noticed the growing crowd of inappeasable beggars and made a break for the ship.

“Hoist the sail!” he called when he climbed aboard. The crew who had fallen into a state of near lifelessness sprang into action. “Let’s get out of here as soon as possible. I don’t want to spend a second longer than necessary in here.”

“What did the prophet tell you?” Eurylochus asked anxiously. Odysseus gave him a dark look. Eurylochus raised his hands in an appeasing gesture and left him alone. “Forget I asked,” he muttered.

Odysseus sighed. He leaned against the bulwark and stared with unseeing eyes at the souls they passed. The prophet’s words haunted his thoughts. They didn’t promise him much good. Was this all because he had unleashed Poseidon’s anger with one mistake? I see a man who gets to make it home alive. But it’s no longer you. Did that mean that Odysseus needed to change in order to get home?

Despite the souls of both the living and the dead surrounding him, Odysseus felt lonelier than ever. He was to blame for all their suffering. They should have killed him long ago for all the pain he’d brought them. The more he fought for them to stay alive, the more pain he dealt to those around him.

A new wave of realisation and guilt washed over him. Everything Odysseus had done, had been for his own gain. He had spared the cyclops so he didn’t have to feel the guilt of killing him. He had argued with Athena so he didn’t have to feel the guilt of admitting that Polites had been wrong to greet the world with open arms – so he didn’t have to feel the guilt of having sent Polites to his death. Or was it because he felt guilty? He had spared the cyclops because he already felt guilty about the men who had died to his hands. He had argued with Athena because he felt guilty about disregarding her lessons.

His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching his teeth. Polites was wrong. Poseidon was right. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. The compassion that Polites preached had become his downfall. Odysseus’ soft-heartedness had doomed his crew. Athena was right. Your dead friends are proof of how soft you’re growing. Put your emotions aside.

Odysseus had been a monster for sending his friends to their deaths. He’d been too kind to their foes and a monster to his own crew. It was a difficult thing to admit to himself. At the same time, he berated himself for not looking at it this way sooner. A new wave of guilt threatened to crash into him, but he stopped, thinking about the monsters they had encountered.

Had the cyclops felt guilt when he killed his men? Or did he feel better about the murders after having avenged his friend, knowing it had been the right thing to do?

Circe had not apologised for turning his men into pigs. She had only been protecting her nymphs. What experience had taught her to be so cold? What pain had she gone through that she wanted to save her nymphs from?

Poseidon definitely hadn’t shown any remorse when he made Odysseus’ fleet drown. Did he only do it because he was angry? Or had he done it to assert his power, to make sure nobody would mess with him again?

And what about Odysseus himself in the Trojan war? He hadn’t hesitated to trick the Trojans in order to kill them all. Ten years of war had numbed him to the immeasurable bloodshed his actions allowed. He would have gone insane had he allowed himself to weigh every single life against his own. He had stifled the guilt and survived – he had won.

The reason the monsters survived for so long was because they didn’t allow themselves to feel guilty about their actions. He needed to change. He had to throw the guilt away so he could get home. Who would care about his morals if it got everyone killed? Who would care about justice if he made sure the remaining men got home? The end always justifies the means, Aeolus had told him.

Odysseus straightened his spine. Everything pointed to what he needed to change into. He regretted that it had cost so many people before he understood – his best friend, his mentor, his mother, his crew. He wouldn’t let it continue that way. He had to do whatever it would take to get home to Penelope and Telemachus. He had to go where Poseidon wouldn’t be able to reach them. If that meant taking the more dangerous routes, then so be it. If that meant dropping another infant from a wall, then so be it. Anything to get home. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves. He would become the monster.

Chapter Text

“Captain.” Odysseus could tell from his tone of voice that Eurylochus brought bad news. “All the food Circe gave us has gone bad in the Underworld.”

Odysseus swore under his breath. He sighed and put his hand on Eurylochus’ shoulder. “Thanks for telling me, Eurylochus. We’ll have to find another island.”

Eurylochus nodded. “I already told the crew to get out the nets to catch fish. The food that’s gone bad serves perfectly as bait.”

He regarded the second in command for a moment. “Good thinking.”

“It was actually Perimedes’ idea,” Eurylochus shrugged. Odysseus watched him go with furrowed brows.

It wasn’t until the next morning that land was sighted. The sun painted the sky and the water yellow. When they got close enough to make out details, they were met by a strange sight. In front of the island drifted a ship. The oars were extended, but not moving. The sail fluttered in the soft wind with no one to handle it. When they got closer, they could see the ship was wedged between rocks that protruded from the seafloor.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes and stated the obvious. “The ship’s empty.”

“Where did the crew go?” Eurylochus wondered.

He was filled with a sense of foreboding. “I think I know. Do we have any beeswax left?”

“Probably. Why?”

“Hand it out to the men. Tell them to plug their ears with it. Make sure not a single sound penetrates. And don’t forget to fill your own ears with the stuff.”

Eurylochus raised his eyebrows before retrieving the beeswax. Odysseus told the men what was about to happen and they agreed on some basic hand gestures they were going to need to communicate. He checked every single man’s hearing before he took the wax from Eurylochus.

Before he put it in his ears, Eurylochus stopped him with a hand on his arm. They were the only ones who could still hear. “Are you sure about this?” Eurylochus asked.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Odysseus sighed.

“I know. But I’m just saying… wouldn’t it be safer to evade them? It’s an unnecessary risk.”

Odysseus crossed his arms. “I agree that it’s a risk, but it’s not unnecessary. We need them for information. They’re the only ones who can tell us how to get home without running into Poseidon again.”

That almost persuaded Eurylochus. “How will you get information from them if you can’t hear?”

Odysseus grinned. “Trust me.”

They slowly sailed along the coast of the island while keeping some distance. Odysseus kept a close eye on the water. There were some dangerous rocks to look out for and they didn’t want to suffer the same fate as the ship they had encountered. When he saw a dark shape swim under them, he signalled for the ship to lose its speed.

He gasped when a head broke the surface right next to where Odysseus was leaning over the gunwale. Intelligent eyes looked back at him. A perfect copy of his wife’s face smiled. Odysseus’ heart ached.

Don’t you miss me?

He read her lips and replied, “More than you know.”

She raised herself up until her shoulders were visible. Then jump in the water and kiss me.

Odysseus straightened up a little, putting distance between them. “You know I’m afraid of the water, Penelope.” It felt strange to call this creature by his wife’s name.

You’ll be safe with me, I’ll make sure of it. She neared the ship and reached out to Odysseus. He suppressed a frown, trying to decipher her next words. Was she talking about a daughter?

He took his hands off the gunwale and smiled. “I think I’m alright here.”

She put her hands where his had been a moment before. Tell me what’s tormenting you so. I can take the suffering from you.

Odysseus longed to hear those words from his wife. “You know I prefer to have solid ground under my feet.”

I can take the suffering from you! She pulled herself up, tucking her chin on the gunwale. Odysseus crouched so that his eyes were level with hers. He ignored his heart telling him how real she was, how close…

“Fine. But after you’ve answered my questions.”

A hint of irritation crossed her face but she quickly hid it with a placating smile. Of course!

Odysseus straightened up and started pacing. He needed to keep her attention on him. “So, theoretically, let’s say I was on the run, or hiding. From, I don’t know, the god of the sea himself, Poseidon. And let’s say he blocked the way home with giant waves and giant storms.” He waved his hands around to indicate exactly how giant the waves and storms were.

The imitation of Penelope pouted in sympathy, her eyes following his every move.

He crouched in front of her again. “Where would I need to go to evade him?”

She reached a hand out to play with his hair. He paid close attention to her mouth to make sure he got every bit of information he needed. Poseidon is difficult to evade. But there is one route you can take where he will not follow. In fact, he is scared of that place. She widened her eyes dramatically. It’s through the lair of Scylla.

He recoiled. “Scylla?” Odysseus repeated to verify he had understood her.

She nodded enthusiastically.

Odysseus was thankful his crew couldn’t hear him. He rubbed his eyes. “But Scylla has a cost.”

Well, you asked, she shrugged. She slid back into the water and stretched her arms out to Odysseus. Will you come with me into the water now?

He tucked the strand of hair that she had been playing with behind his ear and grinned. “Penelope, you know I’m too shy.”

You don’t have to worry about Poseidon anymore. He could tell that she was hiding her annoyance behind a charming smile.

“I would die for you, you know? But not yet.”

We’ll be together forever! Her mask was slipping. She was getting desperate. I will take the suffering from you!

“Why don’t you come onto the ship? We’ll jump at the same time!”

She bared her sharp teeth and approached, preparing to lunge.

“I would do anything for you,” Odysseus sighed. He reached for the bow and arrow he had put nearby in preparation. Before the imitation of Penelope reached Odysseus, he fired the arrow and hit her in the shoulder. He didn’t need to be able to hear to imagine her wailing.

Before she could escape to the depths of the sea, Odysseus hooked his bow around her and pulled her closer, lifted her from the water with his other arm and dropped her onto the deck.

“Let’s cut the charade! You are not my wife!”

She swatted around with the long fishlike tail she had instead of legs. Odysseus planted his foot on her chest.

“I know you’ve been trying to take my life this whole time. You can stop pretending to be my wife now. I know exactly what you are, you siren.”

For the first time he was able to see how the men were doing. Using the fishing nets they had caught the other sirens, whose arms had now been bound. The men surrounded them and kept them in check with their swords at the sirens’ throats.

The struggling of the siren under Odysseus’ foot increased when she noticed her friends. Odysseus drew his sword and held the tip of it under her chin. “You can’t win me over so easily. We are immune to your deceptive songs because we filled our ears with beeswax. I read your lips, so now I know how to get home.”

Spare us, please!

“Why? Only for you to kill the next group of sailors you encounter?” He scoffed. “You were trying to kill me. You wouldn’t have spared us.” He turned to his men, who were watching him intently, awaiting orders. “Cut off their tails. Throw their bodies back in the water. Let them drown.”

They gave each other surprised looks. Odysseus demonstrated by slicing the body of the creature that wore his wife’s features in half. Dark blood oozed onto the ship’s deck. The other sirens thrashed in their restraints, their sharp teeth bared. He was glad he couldn’t hear them, since their shrieks must have been terrible.

“I made the mistake of letting the monster live before. I can’t let that happen again. Kill them all!”

He threw Penelope’s likeness into the water. The men gave each other grim smiles and started hacking at the sirens without restraint. Soon the ship was covered in gore. The water was stained red. Odysseus deemed it safe to take out the beeswax and signalled for the men to follow suit.

Eurylochus clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. “I had no reason to doubt you, captain.” The men showed their agreement with nods and laughter.

“You truly are a different beast now,” someone said.

“That’ll show them who’s the real monster!”

Odysseus wiped the blood off his sword with a rag. “We need to keep going.”

Chapter Text

The sun that lurked under the horizon before it rose painted the world around them grey, which made the just visible rock formation looming in front of them all the more terrifying. The lair of Scylla. Odysseus hadn’t told his crew what the siren had shared with him. All he had told them was that this was their only way home.

He hadn’t moved from his spot at the prow since turning his back on the blood the deck had been covered with. He had only been looking ahead. The fact that his back was turned did not stop his mind from conjuring up images of his wife’s body spattered with blood, her eyes giving him a betrayed look before turning lifeless, the red sword in his hand.

He wished he could forget the loving looks the siren as Penelope had given him. He wanted to remember the real Penelope. When the siren had imitated her, she looked exactly like the Penelope he remembered, which Odysseus logically knew was no longer what she looked like. It had been at least twelve years since he’d last seen her. He doubted he looked exactly the same as he had then, and the same must be true for Penelope. Had she found her first grey hair? Did she have new smile lines? He hoped she and Telemachus laughed a lot together.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Eurylochus stood next to him.

Odysseus clamped his fingers around the gunwale. The large cave’s mouth was getting closer every second. He did not want to think about what would happen to them when they were inside. Or how they would come out the other side. He didn’t allow himself to feel guilt. He had to do whatever it would take to get home to Penelope and Telemachus. “Not much to say.”

“I’m impressed by what you did,” Eurylochus told him. “I know I’ve been hard on you, doubting your plans and all. I’m…” He cleared his throat. “Let me be honest. I didn’t think you were capable of killing all those sirens in cold blood. I mean, I know how many men you killed in the war without batting an eye, so I knew you were capable of it. But it seems like… Ever since the war, you’ve been more hesitant to kill. I’m glad to see that the old you is back.”

Odysseus’ eyes pricked. They were sailing into the cave now.

“I just want to say I’m sorry.” Eurylochus swallowed. Odysseus looked at him. His friend didn’t look back, his anxious eyes on the darkness that they were quickly being swallowed by. Odysseus could barely see him anymore. “But that’s not all,” he continued. “There’s a secret I’ve been keeping from you. I know I should’ve told you sooner. In fact, I tried to tell you, but you were busy. I’m so sorry, captain. I need to tell you. It was me who opened the wind bag when you were asleep.”

The darkness was absolute. It felt like Odysseus’ heart had been ripped from his chest. The sleepless days when he’d had been clutching the wind bag desperately to avoid it from being opened were a blur, but he did remember Eurylochus constantly checking on him, making sure he ate and voicing his concern for the lack of sleep. Had it not been concern, but distrust instead? Had Eurylochus been waiting for his chance to open the wind bag? Had Eurylochus not known better?

“Captain? Can you forgive me?”

From the way his words echoed, Odysseus could tell the cave they were in was gigantic. He picked up on more sounds now that his eyes were useless. The oars splashing in the water, the sail flapping, the lines straining.

Odysseus could not forgive Eurylochus. After this, Eurylochus would not forgive him. “Eurylochus. Light up six torches.”

He was glad he couldn’t see his expression. His footsteps receded. A moment later, the first spark of a fire broke through the darkness. A torch was passed from one hand to another. When five torches had been distributed Eurylochus rejoined Odysseus at the prow, bearing the sixth torch himself. He looked at Odysseus as if he was about to say something. Then he looked ahead. And raised his torch.

“Captain… There’s something out there.”

Odysseus steeled himself.

From the darkness in front of them, a woman’s pale face emerged. Her eyes were cast down coyly. Her bare upper body seemed to emit its own light, pulling all eyes towards it. Everyone collectively held their breaths. Then she lifted her gaze and smiled.

When she spoke, it was with six throats at once. “Hello.”

Six pairs of white specks blinked into view, surrounding the ship. A low-pitched shriek vibrated through the cave. The men were stunned with shock until Odysseus called them back to order.

“ROW FOR YOUR LIVES!”

The men pulled on the oars as if their lives depended on it. When one of the torch-bearing men was snatched up from above, his torch dropping into the water, they realised that their lives did depend on it.

“Captain!”

Their captain looked ahead while a pair of white eyes descended on a second man. Strong jaws gripped him and lifted him far above their heads, the yellow light of his torch allowing all to see how long the neck was. While they were watching him, nobody saw Scylla’s third head creep up on another man. Blood spurted onto the deck.

Scylla’s shrieks wishing hell and damnation upon them echoed through Odysseus’ skull.

Their captain looked ahead while Eurylochus ran to the spot where a fourth man was ripped apart, on the way handing his torch to a man who was to be the fifth victim. When Eurylochus realised each of the monster’s heads went for another torchbearer, he also realised there was only one of them left.

Their captain looked ahead while the last man with a torch held up the flame as if to fend off the creature, only succeeding in painting himself as the next target. Eurylochus ran towards him, his cries to drop the torch drowned out by Scylla’s monstrous shrieks.

“You know that we are the same,” Scylla’s voice whispered in Odysseus’ ear. “There is no price we won’t pay.”

The end of the tunnel was in sight.

“We must do what it takes to survive.”

The ship shot out of the cave and they were bathed in daylight. For the second time the ship was covered in blood and gore, only this time it was the blood of his own crew. Odysseus shut his eyes to block out the light and the truth.

Scylla’s words followed him out of the cave. “We are the same, you and I.” Odysseus hunched in on himself. He couldn’t help but agree.

The men kept up their killing pace until they unanimously slowed down when they deemed themselves far enough away. A horrified silence settled over the ship.

“Tell me you did not know that would happen.” Odysseus breathed in relief when he heard Eurylochus’ voice, but otherwise remained silent. “Tell me this is not what you planned. Tell me I’m wrong, tell me this is all just some trick from the gods or something. Captain, please look me in the eyes and tell me this is not what it seems – that you did not miss home so bad that you just sacrificed six of our friends!”

Odysseus stared at the planks under his feet, desperately trying to push down the guilt. We must do what it takes to survive. Eurylochus put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to make him face him, but retracted it when Odysseus didn’t move.

“Captain, when we fought the cyclops, you quickly came up with a plan to escape him. When Circe turned our men into pigs, it was you who refused to leave them behind and went back for them. I didn’t always trust your plans, but you proved me wrong with your wits every time. But when we saw this… this monster, you didn’t even try to fight back. You let it take the men and just… ran! Tell me, captain, what is the meaning of this? Because I don’t see it.”

Odysseus breathed in and out. There is no price we won’t pay.

“Say something!”

“I CAN’T!” He whipped around to face Eurylochus, breathing heavily. The crew had gathered behind him. Faces set with determination challenged him. Words evaded him. They wouldn’t understand that none of them would be standing here if they had fought back. To them, going down fighting was a greater honour than fleeing and surviving. It was what made them so valuable on the battlefields of Troy. On top of betraying their trust he had offended their pride. No explanation could justify his choice to give up the lives of six men.

Eurylochus’ words washed over him like a spray of cold seawater. “Then I take back everything I said earlier.” He drew his sword and pointed it at his captain in challenge.

“Lower your weapon.” Odysseus’ hand hovered over the hilt of his own sword.

“No can do.” Eurylochus approached. The men crowded around them.

Odysseus held up the hand that wasn’t on his sword’s hilt. “I don’t want to fight you, brother.”

“You really miss your wife so bad that you trade the lives of your own crew for her? Are we worth so little to you?”

“You’d have done the same thing in my place!”

“I will not have you make me feel any guilt for handing out the torches. If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame as well.” With that, Eurylochus swung his sword at his captain. Odysseus dodged and unsheathed his own sword, parrying his next strike.

The surrounding crew cheered Eurylochus on and taunted Odysseus. The two duelled in their midst, their swords occasionally scratching each other’s skin, making blood flow, but causing no more than surface wounds. Already worn out from emotion, Eurylochus was the first to show a sign of fatigue. This was Odysseus’ chance. Every time that Eurylochus had doubted or mistrusted him and every time that Odysseus proved him wrong, had led to this moment. Odysseus did not care about honour. He just wanted to survive.

He thrust his shoulder forward and with his whole body weight behind it slammed into Eurylochus’ chest, throwing him onto the ground. “I’m not letting you get in my way home anymore!” He raised his sword to deal the final blow.

A sudden sharp pain in his side made him freeze. His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the deck. He looked down at the sword embedded in his side, the deep gash quickly drenching his clothes in warm blood. Then he looked behind him, at the person wielding the sword and the men standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Perimedes pulled the sword back out.

“My brothers, why?” Odysseus choked out.

“Do you really expect us to still trust you after this?” Perimedes sneered. “Looks like this is where your luck runs out.”

Odysseus crumpled to his knees, hands covering the wound. The surrounding men towered over him. His vision blurred, reducing their forms to hazy silhouettes, embodying his hubris.

A fist connected with his temple. His vision went dark.

Chapter Text

The first thing Odysseus noticed when he woke up, was the pain in his head and his side. The second thing was that his hands were being bound behind his back. The third thing was that he wasn’t at sea anymore. The fourth thing was the lowing of cows.

The events of before came back to him. He blinked his eyes open and groaned. He must have spent most of the day unconscious, since the sun was about to set. “Where are we?”

The rope around his wrists was given a final tug and Eurylochus appeared in his field of view, crouching in front of him. He was the last person he wanted to see right now. At least someone had had the decency to bind Odysseus’ wounds. “The first island we found,” Eurylochus told him. He looked a bit out of his depth, Odysseus noted with a hint of satisfaction.

Odysseus looked over Eurylochus’ shoulder. Around them the crew were carrying supplies from the ship and setting up camp. Past the sand of the beach, perfect meadows stretched out. Grazing on the grass were fat white cows. The low sun cast them in a golden light.

“It’s like these cows know how hungry we are,” Eurylochus chuckled. “They’re practically begging us to eat them.”

Odysseus’ head spun. He leaned back, against something cold and hard. He tried to look behind him what it was, but that made everything hurt more.

Eurylochus followed his gaze. “That’s a statue. No idea what it’s doing here.”

“Whose statue?”

“The god of the sun,” Eurylochus shrugged. He got to his feet. “Anyway, you be good there, alright? Someone will come to clean the bandages soon.”

Odysseus squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden nausea. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do.”

Eurylochus paused, but didn’t look at him. “What else do you want me to do? We’re never going to make it home.”

Odysseus’ eyes snapped to him. He strained against the rope around his wrists, flinching when that aggravated the wound in his side. “Don’t say that! You don’t know that!”

Eurylochus sighed. “The men are hungry, Odysseus. I’m so hungry.” He looked at the nearest cow, who was slowly making its way towards Eurylochus as if it knew what he wanted to do and was offering itself.

“You said it yourself, Eurylochus, this is the home of the sun god. You don’t know what’ll happen if you kill his cattle. He could send-”

“Shut up.” Eurylochus looked down on Odysseus. “I’m not letting the men starve on my watch.” Odysseus recognised the backhanded remark and hunched his shoulders.

“I need to get home,” he pleaded. “Not everything is lost yet. We can still make it home.”

“I’m tired, my friend.” Eurylochus unsheathed his sword and looked between the cow and Odysseus, who frantically fumbled with the rope.

“But we’re almost there! Don’t give up hope now!”

“I don’t want to find out how many more men will die if we continue the journey now. We need to eat, then we can get going again.”

“Fine, just not these cows! Anything but these cows!”

As if it knew it was being discussed, the cow mooed. It fixed its intelligent eyes on Eurylochus, tempting him to kill it. Eurylochus gritted his teeth. “I’m just a man.”

“Eurylochus, NO!”

He slit the cow’s throat.

Odysseus’ stomach dropped. “You’ve doomed us.” Dark clouds quickly gathered on the horizon, rapidly approaching. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus.” He finally managed to release his wrists from the rope and leapt to his feet, snatching Eurylochus’ sword from his hands and casting it away. The poor cow bled at his feet, forgotten for the moment as the sky darkened above them.

“Captain?” Eurylochus ran after Odysseus toward the ship.

Odysseus screamed at the men to get back to the ship, forget all their stuff, grab an oar and get away from the island as fast as possible. His panic effectively spread among them and they sprinted after him, climbing aboard the ship and pushing it out into the sea.

“Those cows were immortal,” he yelled at Eurylochus who, despite the mutiny, had followed his orders and sticked close to him. “They were the sun god’s friends! Remember the last time something like that happened? Now guess which god is coming after us!”

Eurylochus paled and opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Odysseus cast anxious glances at the dark clouds that, despite their best efforts, moved faster than the ship.

“Don’t waste your breath,” Odysseus told him, shoulders sagging. The clouds were over their heads. Lightning struck the nearby waves. A thunderclap boomed. “We’re too late.”

The thunderstorm broke. Rain poured down.

Hopelessness spread among the men and they stopped rowing, looking up and around with unease. Their eyes fixed on the figure that loomed from the darkness.

The air was heavy. Stormy eyes peered from beneath bushy eyebrows down at the bobbing ship. When he spoke, the ends of his wild beard sparked threateningly. “Pride,” the king of the gods declared, “is like a damsel in distress. She hides away where only I can undress her. In vain she tries not to reveal herself. But when I apply all the pressure, she will always subject to my will.” Zeus stretched out his hands and gathered the clouds, making them rumble. “Thunder!” he called to the sky. “Show her I’m the judge, the one who reduces her kingdom to nothing!” Lightning bolts flashed. “Lightning! Show her what she is unable to conceal. Put her through the wringer. Reveal her true nature!”

Suddenly the god’s face was very close.

“Tell me, Odysseus,” he rumbled, making everyone’s eyes fix on Odysseus’ anxious face. “If I were to make you choose between, say, the lives of your crew and your own…” Odysseus swallowed. Zeus’ eyes turned dark. “Why do I feel like your men would lose?”

Nervous glances were exchanged between the men. Odysseus didn’t dare look at them. Despite how much he wanted to look away, he kept his gaze upwards, on the king of the gods. The harsh rain cut into his cheeks and forehead.

“King of Ithaca. Enlighten me. Who do I hold responsible for the crime?” When Odysseus didn’t answer, Zeus raised himself up and laughed, making the planks under Odysseus’ feet reverberate. “He thinks he can delay the sentence!” A nearby thunderclap made everyone jump. “Your death is near! I will not cease to ring your ears until fear has deafened you. You will pay for the injustice!”

Odysseus’ heart hammered in his chest.

“Choose.”

He flinched. “Choose?” his dry throat croaked out.

The eyes of his men burned on his skin.

Zeus laughed. “Someone has to die. It’s up to you to decide who it will be. You, or your crew.”

He was reminded of that night in Troy. He had had to choose between the death of an unknown infant and the deaths of everyone who was dear to him. In comparison, it had been an easy decision. Now the choice was between his crew and himself. Neither option Zeus gave him was preferable. “Please, don’t make me do this,” he pleaded, like he had then.

Every man on the ship had a family and loved ones to return to. The largest part of the army he had taken to Troy had already died because of him. But Odysseus had Penelope. She was waiting for him. Telemachus was waiting. He was reminded of the siren who had looked like his wife, telling him she could take his suffering away. He missed Penelope so much.

His eyes strayed to the men on the rowing benches. Guilt weighed on his shoulders. I’m sorry. He repressed the feeling. He couldn’t afford to feel guilt. Anything to get home. Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.

He closed his eyes. Rain and tears streaked down his face. It wasn’t him who had killed the sacred cow. It wasn’t him who had opened the wind bag. He pointed.

“Captain?”

In that moment, Odysseus wasn’t his captain. Eurylochus was his friend, his brother. He opened his eyes to meet Eurylochus’ heartbroken eyes.

“I have to see her,” he explained quietly.

Eurylochus opened his mouth, closed it, and looked around at the crew. He made a helpless gesture. “But we’ll die.”

Odysseus averted his eyes. “I know.”

And that was that. The men were frozen in shock, or perhaps disbelief. Odysseus felt nothing. He knew he was the monster. He pictured Penelope’s face. He ignored the voice in his mind that asked him what she would think of him if she could see him right now. She couldn’t, and that was the whole point.

“Thunder!” Zeus bellowed. “Reduce her to nothing! Lightning! Reveal her true nature!”

The god rained thunder and lightning down onto the ship. A lightning bolt struck the mast. Its electricity found its way to the deck, charring the wood in its path. The sound of planks shattering rang in Odysseus’ ears. Men who had drawn their swords to attack their captain screamed in fear when they found the wood under their feet give way.

When Odysseus’ reflexes told him to take in a gulp of air, it was already too late and he choked on the freezing water that enclosed his body. Around him floated the struggling bodies of the men he had fought with in the war against Troy, who he had faced monsters and gods with. The men he had fought to protect. All his pride was stripped away. He had nothing left.

His vision went dark. He saw Penelope with Telemachus in her arms, bidding him farewell when he left Ithaca.

Chapter Text

It had been twenty years since Odysseus left Ithaca. The baby he had said goodbye to had grown up, had run through the palace’s halls. Now he never went faster than a walk. He had learned etiquette.

Telemachus walked along the colonnade that looked out to the sea. He held out one hand to touch the columns he passed. His father had walked here. Telemachus didn’t remember him. Odysseus was a hero from a story like all the others, like Theseus who had slain the Minotaur, and Heracles who had fought the Hydra and captured Hades’ three-headed dog Cerberus. Even stories about the heroes who had fought in the Trojan war had reached his ears. He drank in those stories, imagining his father shining on the battlefield like Ajax and Achilles.

But Ajax and Achilles had died. Despite the fact that he hadn’t been heard from since, Odysseus couldn’t be dead. As long as there was no evidence against it, his father was still alive and could return any day now. That’s what Telemachus told everyone, anyway. He had no way of knowing.

He halted and leaned his arms on a stone wall. The wind blew his hair back. Telemachus sighed. He wondered if he would recognise his father when he came home. His mother sometimes told him he looked like him, though his grandparents told him he resembled Penelope more. Somewhere beyond the horizon was his father, fighting terrifying monsters. He wished he could be a legend like him. He’d have to fight monsters to become one, and right now the only monsters he knew were the men occupying the palace.

He clenched his fists and turned his back to the sea, pursing his lips when he could hear their raucous feasting. The strangers had flocked to the palace as soon as they heard Penelope was left on her own. There were one hundred and eight of them. Telemachus knew them all by name, against his will. He knew which ones could hit the hardest, which ones to avoid talking back to, and which ones were worse when drunk. They were all here to win Penelope’s heart, in hopes of becoming ruler of Ithaca, but they didn’t mind if in the process they could humiliate Telemachus as much as possible. To avoid them, he spent most days in his room. He wished he could fight back.

“Gods of Olympus,” he prayed out loud, hoping one of them was listening, “can you give me sign if my father is still alive? Can you…” He sighed, lowering his head. No matter who or how often he asked, his prayers had always gone unanswered. He decided to try a different approach this time. “If anybody is listening, can you give me the strength to keep my mother safe from the suitors? They’re getting worse every day. They’re drinking all our wine, eating all our food. Of course they don’t clean after themselves, why would they? They’re our guests.” He suppressed a groan of frustration. The gods did not look kindly upon violating the laws of hospitality. “I don’t know how much longer we can stall. They’re testing our patience.” He resumed his walk along the columns, drawing nearer to the hall where the suitors resided by day. “If only I were as strong as you, father,” Telemachus continued his prayer, “I would fight them all.”

He halted outside the doors, steeling himself and listening to what the suitors were yelling about. They were addressing Penelope, asking her to come out of her chambers and choose one of them as her husband already. Telemachus rolled his eyes. It was nothing new. “Where is that man of yours?” he heard one of them call out. “It’s been twenty years! He must be dead!”

Telemachus slipped inside. “Just give me a chance, a single opportunity,” he muttered under his breath, eyeing the men he knew he couldn’t take on himself. “Please, and I’ll-”

“Boy.” The unofficial leader of the suitors, Antinous, cornered him.

Telemachus froze. He swallowed his words, watching the men surround him in an instant. It was as if they had been waiting for him to show up.

“When is your tramp of a mother going to choose a new husband, huh?” Antinous got so close Telemachus could smell his body odour. “Why don’t you open her room and let us have our fun? I think we’ve waited long enough!” He grinned, revealing his filthy teeth. The men around them voiced their agreement, throwing their own insults at Telemachus.

Telemachus recoiled and puffed up his chest. “Don’t you dare call my mother a tramp,” he growled.

The suitors jeered and laughed. Antinous raised an eyebrow and smirked. “I just did.” He crossed his arms. “Whatchu gonna do about it, champ?”

Telemachus narrowed his eyes, knowing how this was going to end, how it always ended. He bent his knees a little, raising his fists. Now would be a great time for divine help, he thought. He actually managed to duck out of the way of Antinous’ fist when it swung his way, but missed how the man extended his leg, making Telemachus trip over it. He stumbled back, trying to put more distance between them.

The suitors laughed. “Fight, little wolf, fight!” they taunted. They pushed him back towards Antinous when he got too close to them. Telemachus tried to punch Antinous, but the man just grabbed his arm and jerked him towards him, kneeing him in the stomach. Telemachus doubled over in pain for a moment. He ignored the noises the suitors made and faced Antinous again, determined not to let his pain show.

“You’ve made a mistake here, little one,” Antinous said when he and Telemachus circled each other. Despite the fact that Telemachus had grown taller than several of the suitors, he would always be a small boy in their eyes. “It could teach you a thing or two if it weren’t your last one. Too bad your daddy’s not here to teach you himself.” He pouted mockingly.

Telemachus leapt forward and attempted another punch. He hit something, if the pain in his knuckles was any indication. He was thrown to the ground and when he looked up, he saw Antinous rolling his shoulder, but he didn’t look as if it hurt. Before he could get up, Antinous kicked him in the ribs.

“Come on, fight!” he mocked, the words accompanied with another kick – in the face this time. Telemachus tried to scramble away. “Don’t you wanna be a man? You’re not trying to flee, are you, little wolf?”

Rough hands grabbed him under the armpits and set him upright, pushing him towards the bully. Telemachus held his arms in front of his ribs and face to protect him from the inevitable blow. His whole body already felt battered and bruised, his breathing was laboured and he felt a warm trickle of blood run from his nose.

But no hit came. He peeked over his arms and saw to his surprise that Antinous wasn’t moving. When he looked around he discovered that the surrounding men weren’t moving either. He realised they had stopped making sound. “What’s happening?” he said breathlessly.

“Need some help?”

Telemachus lowered his arms when the armoured woman materialised beside him. He gaped at the woman who could be none other than a goddess.

“Are you just going to stand around?” Athena smiled at him and indicated to Antinous with her chin. “I suggest you fight back.”

His shoulders sagged. “I don’t know how.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and he felt the pain lessen. “Uppercut him.” She demonstrated the move, her fist punching upwards in the air. Then she removed her hand from his shoulder. Antinous rapidly approached as if nothing had happened. “Now!”

With a strength and speed Telemachus didn’t know he possessed, he punched the big man under the chin, knocking him backwards. A collective gasp sounded around him. Telemachus inspected his hands with wide eyes. “How did I do that?” He caught the goddess’ eye. “Are you making time move slow?”

Athena shook her head. “I’m making your thoughts move quick.”

Telemachus laughed. “That’s awesome!”

“Pay attention now, he’s coming for you again.”

The fight passed in a blur. With Athena’s help, Telemachus could counter Antinous’ strikes and get a few hits in himself. Whenever he was hurt anyway, he could get over the pain quickly and focus on retaliating. He noted the confusion and even a flicker of fear in Antinous’ eyes. The suitors’ cheers and heckling were reduced to a droning in the background.

Then one of the suitors tripped him and Telemachus fell. Antinous stood over him, breathing hard. He put a foot on his chest, applying pressure so Telemachus was pinned to the ground. “Go cry to your mommy. If she doesn’t choose one of us soon, we’ll make sure to hit a lot harder.” He pressed his foot down harder for a moment to illustrate his point, leaving Telemachus gasping for breath. Then he spat on the ground and left, the suitors clapping him on the back.

Athena’s furious face appeared in Telemachus’ field of view. Her expression softened when Telemachus coughed, wincing when that brought back the pain the adrenaline had pushed to the background. “Come on,” she said, helping him to his feet and escorting him to his room.

“Athena,” Telemachus managed to say between painful wheezes, his eyes never leaving the goddess’ form. “Why did you help me?”

Chapter Text

When Odysseus’ son asked for help, Athena’s attention was grabbed. She listened to his complaints about the suitors taking up too much space in the palace, testing the limits of hospitality. Her heart clenched in sympathy. The boy knew no better.

“If only I were as strong as you, father, I would fight them all.”

Her heart wept for the boy who asked for his father as if he were a god. Athena concealed herself from the eyes of mortals and descended to Ithaca’s palace. There she found Telemachus, surrounded by the filth that had infiltrated the grounds. Cowards.

With rising disdain she watched the strongest of the suitors challenge the young man. From Telemachus’ resigned expression she could tell this wasn’t the first time. The suitors’ heckling made her blood boil. She was sure Telemachus was so used to it that he didn’t even hear it anymore. She watched him weakly punch Antinous’ shoulder, watched him lose his balance and be kicked around.

She had enough. When one of the suitors picked up the hurt Telemachus and pushed him toward Antinous once again, Athena intervened.

Telemachus shielded himself from hits, but lowered his arms when he realised none came. “What’s happening?”

Athena revealed herself. “Need some help?” She watched his face in amusement as recognition dawned on him. Telemachus made up for the awe that his father had lacked. As much as she enjoyed his wonder, he was in the middle of a fight that wasn’t going to resolve itself. “Are you just going to stand around? I suggest you fight back.”

The awestruck expression turned to embarrassment. “I don’t know how.”

She had to consciously stop the concern from showing on her face. She assessed the situation and decided what move would be most effective and simple for Telemachus to use against Antinous in the moment. “Uppercut him. Now.”

Telemachus did as told. Athena guided him through the fight, giving him advice where to hit and warning him to watch out for a fist, but mostly boosting his confidence. She winced when Telemachus tripped over the foot of one of the suitors. He didn’t have the energy to get back up before Antinous pinned him to the ground. She realised she may have pushed him a bit too hard, too soon.

Athena helped him up when the suitors left him alone. “Athena, why did you help me?”

She assisted Telemachus to his room and did what she could to relieve the pain. She was no healer, but she knew how to wipe blood from a face. It was disgusting that the suitors, who had no business being here, beat up a helpless young man just to send Penelope a message. It was ordinary bullying, which Athena had seen enough of to lose all respect for the men carrying it out. She had wanted to teach them the lesson not to mess with the defenceless. She did not tell Telemachus this.

Athena took off her helmet with its long crest. Telemachus looked at her expectantly, awaiting her answer to his question. She went over to the balcony to avoid looking at him and looked out to the sea.

“I used to have this friend,” she began. “He was intelligent, cunning, and stubborn. I taught him tactics, I encouraged him when he needed it. I helped him fight in the war. But after that… We had our differences. We grew apart. I lost sight of him. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I miss him, but… He needs my guidance. I let him out of my sight. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d made a different call. You know, maybe he would be fine if I hadn’t left him. And so I thought…”

She turned around to face Telemachus. She swallowed when she found his expression full of sympathy, his undivided attention on her. It scared her a bit how much she was telling him, and how desperate she was to share her thoughts with someone.

“So I thought, what if I try again? Here’s someone I can help. This time, I’ll try not to make the same mistakes. I can do better.”

Telemachus frowned in thought, before he rose to his feet and joined Athena on the balcony. “Athena,” he started carefully, as if he still couldn’t believe he was talking to the goddess herself. “I don’t know your friend, but you’ve been nothing but good to me.” A smile grew on his face. “You know, this has been the best day of my life so far. I actually fought back today!” Athena smiled, affected by the pride the boy felt. “I didn’t die! I never knew what it’s like to be strong.”

Athena closed her eyes for a moment, her heart full of sympathy for the boy whose life would have been so different had his father been here for him.

“I’d love to have you as my friend,” Telemachus went on, unaware of her feelings. “So don’t you think your friend deserves some of that friendship too? Don’t you think it’s time you helped him? I know I wouldn’t mind.”

Athena searched the eyes that looked back at her with unconcealed honesty. Who was he to give advice to a goddess – the goddess of wisdom no less? Who was she take his advice? She dismissed those thoughts and sighed. “You know how much it takes for a god to admit to their mistakes?” she asked rhetorically.

Telemachus grimaced in sympathy. “A lot?” he guessed. “But that’s what allows you to learn. The mistakes, I mean. And admitting to them, too. I’m sure it’s all going to be fine.” He offered her a smile.

She returned the smile. “You remind me of my friend. You’re a good kid, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Telemachus beamed. “Thanks.”

For all his youth, he could be right. It was time Athena went looking for Odysseus.

Chapter Text

It had been ten years since Athena last saw Odysseus. She could still hear his words as if not a day had passed: Remember me as your darkest moment! My name is Odysseus! Hadn’t she praised him for not revealing his name the first time they met? Tell me, Athena, if you’re so knowledgeable, why are you so alone? She couldn’t bring herself to feel angry at him anymore. He had made a mistake, but so had Athena. If she wanted his forgiveness, she had to forgive him first.

“Let’s see where you’ve been,” Athena muttered to herself. She took a deep breath and dove – into Odysseus’ memories.

The wind god Aeolus offered Odysseus a bag. He woke up in the middle of a storm and struggled to close the bag. Poseidon struck fear into his heart, destroying all ships except one. Athena feared for Odysseus, having invoked the anger of Poseidon, who wasn’t known for letting go of grudges. A petty part of her wanted to tell him I told you so. Odysseus opened the bag, releasing the last remaining wind and escaped Poseidon’s grasp. Athena was proud of him.

The island Aeaea. Hermes gave Odysseus moly. It pleased Athena that Odysseus hadn’t been on his own but had received help from her brother. Odysseus confronted the witch Circe. She tried to stab him in the back, but Odysseus’ loyalty to his wife impressed her. Athena wasn’t sure Odysseus even noticed that Circe had taken his dagger from him. He stayed with her for a long time. Then the Underworld, overwhelming Odysseus with grief and regret – overpowering guilt. It was hard for Athena not to sympathise.

He outsmarted the siren who looked like his wife and, to Athena’s surprise, had all the captured sirens killed. The six-headed monster Scylla claimed the lives of six of his men. Eurylochus led a mutiny and Odysseus woke up with his hands bound. Eurylochus killed a sacred cow. Zeus stirred up a storm.

“Captain?”

“I have to see her.”

“But we’ll die.”

“I know.”

Odysseus had changed. Without Athena’s guidance, he’d decided for himself how to handle the hardships that had come his way. The events had changed him into a different person. Though, judging by the argument she and Odysseus had had, Athena doubted she could have prevented it. He was always stubborn. She wasn’t sure if he had changed for the better or for worse.

The ship was blasted to pieces. That had been seven years ago. She lost sight of Odysseus. He wasn’t dead, was he? No, she would have known. Hermes, who wasn’t a stranger to the Underworld and took a liking to Odysseus, would have told her.

“Where did you go?” she wondered out loud. It was then that she became aware of an agonised prayer. It came from far away, from a hidden place. It wasn’t much of a prayer. Athena followed it to the one calling her name out.

Odysseus stood on the edge of a cliff. The way he looked rendered Athena speechless. He had aged and weariness painted his features. As an immortal being, Athena was used to mortals aging faster than she could keep up with, but she knew Odysseus’ tiredness wasn’t just caused by time passing.

His prayer was the only reason she’d been able to find him. The island he was on was concealed from her. She could feel her father’s doing behind it. Now that she had found him, Athena once again dove into his memories to find out what had been happening for the last seven years.

Odysseus blinked his eyes open, but squeezed them shut again when he discovered the sun shone directly on his face. When he tried to move, everything hurt too much to accomplish that simple task.

“Oh, you’re awake!” a voice said excitedly. A shadow fell over his eyes and Odysseus dared to open them again. A girl or young woman, it was hard to tell how old she was, looked back, sitting entirely too close. “You’ve been asleep for a while. You know, when you washed up here, I thought you were dead.” She chuckled and cupped his cheek with a hand. Her touch was warm. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

Odysseus frowned and tried to move again, this time succeeding. The girl helped him sit up when she realised what he was doing. He saw he was on a beach. Gentle waves lapped against the sand. He had a lot of questions, but his dry throat didn’t allow him to ask any of them.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” The girl giggled shyly. “You kept going on about Penelope. Who is that?”

Odysseus pulled away from her defensively. “She’s my wife,” his hoarse throat managed.

The girl’s smile froze on her face. Odysseus held her gaze for a moment that stretched on. “Anyway,” she said, sounding undeterred, jumping to her feet and dragging Odysseus up, forcing him to stand which made his fatigued body scream in pain. “I’m sure you’ll love it here. I’ve got everything you might ever want or need. Let me show you around!”

Swinging his hand back and forth, she led him up the beach to the lush trees. He only managed to stay on his feet because of the prospect of the shade the trees would offer him. When they finally reached it, Odysseus stumbled and ended up on his knees. He wiped the sweat off his face.

The girl looked at him and smiled. “Just a bit further and I’ll show you where I live! You’ll love it, I’m sure. I built it myself!”

Odysseus shook his head, which he quickly stopped doing when he noticed that hurt. “I need something to drink.”

“Oh.” He was taken aback by the surprise that showed on her face. “Of course! Just a little further.”

“No. Stop. I need…” He sighed, taking his head in his hands.

The girl sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “You just woke up, I get it,” she said softly. “I have everything you need. I’ll give you all the food and drink you want. And after that…” She trailed a finger up his arm and moved her lips close to his ear. “We’ll climb into bed together,” she whispered with a giggle.

Horrified, Odysseus moved away from her, standing up faster than he had thought himself capable of in his state. “I won’t.”

She looked up at him, still with that smile on her face. “It’s just us two on this whole island. I was here first and I found you, so you’re mine now.”

When she stood up and reached for his hands, he took several steps backwards. “I am not yours. I’m a married man! If you try anything, I could kill you right where you stand.”

“Oh, you can try,” she said, her smile turning into a more sympathetic one. She shrugged. “But I don’t think you can, seeing as I’m a goddess.”

Odysseus stared at her. She was older than he thought. “Goddess?”

She approached him again and this time he didn’t have the energy to avoid her. “You’re adorable. I’m the immortal Calypso. But you have nothing to fear from me.” She grabbed his hands and gently led him further into the bush. “We’re both stuck in this paradise now. Nobody will come looking for us, this island is hidden from everyone. But we have everything we need right here, especially now that I have you.”

“No.” He struggled to pull his hands from Calypso’s. “No, this is wrong. You have to let me go!”

She only pulled him closer. “You’re mine. We’ll stay here together, forever.”

Odysseus was trapped on Calypso’s island, Ogygia. That explained why Athena hadn’t been able to reach him. It was Zeus’ punishment for Calypso, and now Odysseus had joined her in that punishment. As if watching the deaths of his comrades hadn’t been enough punishment in itself.

Athena felt for Odysseus. She watched through his memories that spanned seven years. She knew how long the seven years with only Calypso must have felt for him. She watched him get more secluded and withdrawn each day. Calypso also grew more frustrated every day, but she never failed to put on a cheerful front. Athena realised she still had hope that Odysseus might one day return her affections. But all Odysseus could think about was home, where his son and wife were waiting for him. His hope was slowly draining away.

She watched the moment that had led to Odysseus’ prayer to her.

Odysseus tracked up the slope, up to the cliff’s edge. The harsh wind tried to keep him back.

“Odysseus?” Calypso said desperately. She had followed him, but kept her distance.

He didn’t acknowledge her. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked out toward the ocean. The voices of those he had lost echoed around in his head.

“Get away from the ledge.”

“You have no idea what I’ve gone through.” He hunched his shoulders. “I saw every friend I had be slain. They cried out to me for help, but all I could do was watch.”

“It’s all going to be fine.” Athena wondered who Calypso was trying to convince. “Just come back inside, dear.”

“You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed. I can still hear their screams.”

Calypso looked troubled, but still did not approach. “My love… I know your life has been hard. Just come to me, and you can forget all about it.”

Odysseus said nothing, but took a small step forward and moved his gaze from the horizon to the waves crashing into the bottom of the cliff.

Tears began to form in Calypso’s eyes. “I don’t want you to die. I couldn’t bear it. I love you.”

“They’re calling for me to join them.”

I’m waiting for you, Odysseus.

How much longer until luck’s not enough anymore?

Greet the world with open arms.

The memories broke through his numbness and Odysseus choked on a sob, followed by more sobs and tears that started rolling down his cheeks. His shoulders shook. He wailed and raised his eyes to the heavens. “Athena!” he called out.

Why now? Athena wondered. It had been ten years since they’d seen each other. But she didn’t know who else he had asked for help. Nobody had listened. Was she his last resort? He was truly miserable. If she didn’t do anything, he could make an end to it himself. He needed her help.

Chapter Text

Athena returned to mount Olympus. What Zeus had done to Odysseus fuelled her dislike for him, but she had to hide it for the moment. If she asked, her father usually gave her what she wanted. Steeling herself, she approached his throne.

“Father. King of the gods.” She took off her helmet and bowed. Surrounding her were the empty thrones of the other gods. Zeus, at the head of the semicircle of seats, watched her, his expression unreadable. “I rarely ask you for favours,” Athena continued, her eyes on the floor in front of her. “So I hope that this one time, you will grant me one.”

“Go on.”

She raised her eyes to meet his. “I am hoping to save a friendship. We argued over a small matter years ago, resulting in me taking my leave from him. I want to show him that I’m sorry for how I treated him. He is imprisoned, far from his home. I want to answer his plea for help.” Her father’s expression hadn’t changed. She took a deep breath. “I want to ask you to release Odysseus.”

Zeus’ eyes darkened and he rose from his seat, towering over Athena. “You want to intervene? Untie the chains I have placed him in?” Athena refused to back down and held his gaze. Zeus regarded her and slowly lowered himself into his seat once more. “He has a lot to feel ashamed for. But if you feel as if he’s worth the risk of fighting for…” He leaned forward. “Why not make it a game?”

Athena blinked. Zeus grinned.

“If you can convince each of them to release him, I’ll do what you ask.”

“Them?”

Zeus clapped his hands together, summoning several gods. They took their places on their thrones. Athena couldn’t help but feel like she had been expected to ask for Odysseus’ freedom. Her father had come prepared. “What do you say?”

Athena narrowed her eyes, letting her gaze jump from one god to the next. Most of the twelve Olympian gods were gathered. Only her own and her uncle Poseidon’s thrones were empty. She noticed that while some gods were a little tense from anticipation, most looked relaxed or even bored, perhaps indifferent. Hermes gave her an encouraging nod and smile. “Bring it.”

The first god who rose from his seat and stepped forward was Apollo, the god of, among other things, art and music. He put one hand on his hip and looked around at the other gods.

“As you all know,” he started, his clear voice laced with confidence, “I was on Troy’s side in the war.” That was an argument Athena had expected. “Odysseus and you, Athena,” he looked at her, but Athena discovered to her surprise that Apollo’s expression was devoid of the passion she expected of him, “delivered the final blow to the city with your wooden horse.” He shrugged. “Well, we all knew Troy was doomed to fall one day.”

Being the god of prophecies as well, Apollo knew best of all that he had been fighting for a lost cause. Not everyone agreed, among them Ares and Apollo’s sister Artemis, and a soft murmur arose, but nobody spoke up. Apollo took a step closer to Athena and pointed to her, nearly prodding her in the chest.

“What really hurt me, though, was how that man treated the sirens. Do you know what he did? Not only did he tell his men to plug their ears so that none of them could hear their beautiful singing, no…” He paused dramatically. “He killed them all!” He spread his arms in outrage, inviting the other gods’ sympathies. “He made an end to their one-of-a-kind, enchanting music!”

He crossed his arms to indicate that he was done, but Athena didn’t miss the look he gave Zeus, as if seeking his approval. It appeared that none of the gods shared Apollo’s sentiment for the sirens’ fate, but it was him who she had to persuade.

Athena cocked her head. “Are you sure he killed all of them? If you ask me, the sirens know better than to employ everyone they have to attack but one ship. Odysseus only killed the sirens that tried to kill him and his men, in an act of self-defence. And you know what? The sirens that weren’t killed had better take it as a lesson. I’m sure their encounter with Odysseus has taught them to be more cautious, so that their song can live on another day.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “If that’s true, release him.” He stepped back and sat back down, surprising Athena again. She had expected more resistance from him, but maybe there was more behind it than she thought.

Hephaestus, the god of the forges, stepped forward, his cane clicking on the stone floor. He turned a hammer over in his hands and cleared his throat. “Trust is something that has to be built up over time. It doesn’t get thrown in your lap, but it can, however, be destroyed with one blow,” Athena noticed his eyes flitted to Aphrodite and Hera for a moment, “as Odysseus has demonstrated. He sacrificed the crew that put all their trust in their captain. I see no reason to support him.”

She noticed that Demeter nodded. Hephaestus raised a valid argument, but not one that Athena couldn’t easily counter. “Did you forget the crew betrayed him first? There was no more trust between them when Odysseus traded their lives for his own. But there are still people out there who do trust him, who he can build a future with if you choose to give him his freedom.”

Hephaestus pursed his lips and looked her in the eyes for a moment. “Fine.” He looked at Zeus. “Release him.” He shuffled back to his throne.

From her seat, the goddess of love, Aphrodite, spoke up next. “Your little high and mighty Odysseus loves his mother, doesn’t he? If he really does, tell me why he let her die of a broken heart.” She twirled her hair and fluttered her eyelashes at Athena, which she ignored as usual.

Athena rolled her eyes. “He was busy fighting.”

Aphrodite leaned back in her throne with an air of nonchalance. “More like, trying to deal with the consequences of letting the cyclops live.” She crossed her legs. “No, let him feel the pain that his mother felt before she died.” She looked at Zeus. “Let him rot.”

“Wait.” Athena reached out to her with her mind, connecting them mentally. “Please reconsider this,” she pleaded where only Aphrodite could hear it.

“Really, Athena?” Ares butted in. She felt his cold sword against her neck. “Don’t try your tricks on her.”

Athena groaned in frustration at the god of war’s interruption. She put on her helmet and summoned her lance. “Let’s hear what you have to say, then.”

“Alright.”

Ares stepped back and Athena turned around to face him, bracing herself for a fight. The satisfaction was written on his face. Athena rarely accepted his challenges, but she knew that if she didn’t hear him out, she would never convince him to let Odysseus go.

He attacked without warning. “I think he’s a coward.” Ares didn’t beat around the bush. “He hid himself inside a wooden horse instead of engaging in battle head-on. He let his friends get eaten instead of killing Scylla! Not to mention he didn’t even try! He always has some trick up his sleeve, never handles things upfront. He’s just as pathetic and weak as that son of his.”

His rage had an infectious effect and Athena’s blood began to boil. She switched from defence to offence. “Don’t you dare talk about his son like that, that’s my friend you’re talking about!”

She fought to gain the upper hand. The point Ares defended was a subject he and Athena always butted heads about – this was personal. They were both gods of war, but where Athena approached a war strategically, Ares’ forte was the violence a war entailed. While this was an argument between them that would never be resolved, she suspected Odysseus was starting to lean more into the bloodshed, which, in this case, worked in Athena’s favour.

“You want more bloodshed?” she challenged Ares, using her lance to block his sword and poking him with the point whenever she could, watching closely for a chance to break through his defences. “Set him free and see what happens. He’ll show you what bloodshed is to get home. I promise you, there will be no shortage of it.” She found a weakness and thrust her lance forward. Ares stumbled and his eyes looked for Aphrodite, reminding Athena that she needed convincing too. “And tell your lover that hearts can mend.”

She threw down her lance and took off her helmet, ending the fight. Ares grumbled, but accepted the defeat. Aphrodite ran to his side. “Release him,” Aphrodite and Ares chorused with undeniable reluctance, avoiding Athena’s eyes.

Athena slowly let out a breath and watched the two gods return to their thrones. Her relief didn’t last long when she saw that the next god to rise and step forward was none other than Hera, goddess of marriage and wife of Zeus. In the war against Troy, Athena and Hera had often joined hands to get their will done. They had been united by the injustice the Trojan prince Paris had done them, favouring Aphrodite over the other two goddesses when asked to decide which of them was the fairest. She wondered what kind of grudge Hera could hold against Odysseus.

“This world knows many heroes,” the queen of the gods began, her tone demanding the attention of all who were gathered. “All of them worthy of their own tales told about them. Tell me, Athena, what makes this one so special? Why should we allow him to prevail?”

Athena suppressed a smile. Hera was giving her a chance to introduce her own argument. “He is very intelligent.”

Hera cocked her head. “Is that all?” she asked before Athena could elaborate.

“He has a way with words.”

“You can do better than that.”

Athena squinted at her. She tried to understand what Hera was getting at, assuming she even knew what she was after. “He… has a sense of humour?”

Hera raised an eyebrow. In the silence that fell, Athena could hear several of the gods shift in their seats. She knew she wasn’t presenting her case very convincingly. Her eyes strayed to Zeus, then jumped back to Hera. She looked between the two. She realised what argument would win Hera over.

“In all their years apart, Odysseus has never cheated on his wife.”

She heard sharp intakes of breaths around her. She didn’t dare look at her father now. Hera nodded almost imperceptibly at her before she sat down on her throne next to Zeus’. “Release him.”

Athena looked around at the other gods. The air was tense. “Anyone else?” she asked, daring them to challenge her. She looked at Demeter, Dionysus, Hermes and Artemis, the only gods who hadn’t said a word. When no one spoke up, she turned to Zeus. She didn’t like what she saw there, but she squared her shoulders. “I’ve played your game and won. Release him.”

Zeus’ expression was as dark as the storm clouds. The ends of his beard sparked with restrained lightning. Her comment about Odysseus’ fidelity had obviously been in poor taste according to the ever-disloyal king of the gods.

“You dare to defy me?” his thunderous voice boomed out. “To make me feel shame?”

Athena resisted the urge to flinch. She saw from the corners of her eyes that Apollo and Hermes couldn’t help themselves.

Zeus stood up. “You have not convinced me.” He stretched his arms out and storm clouds gathered overhead. “No one beats me!”

Athena did flinch when lightning struck nearby, making the air crackle. Gods squirmed in their seats.

“Thunder!” he called to the sky. “Put her through the wringer! Show her I’m the judge. Reduce her to nothing!”

The next thing Athena knew, a blinding light overtook her vision and a white-hot pain coursed through her entire body. All she could hear was thunder. She didn’t know if she screamed or not.

She must have blacked out, because the next moment the light was replaced by darkness. “Is she… dead?” she heard Ares ask. The pain was still there. She felt the cold stone floor which she was sprawled on.

To keep the physical pain away, Athena retreated into her mind.

She found herself standing in one of Ithaca’s gardens. Ithaca wasn’t a very green or fertile island, but that had never bothered Odysseus. To him it was home.

She found Odysseus. Penelope sat nearby against a tree, watching her husband with a smile on her face. He held up the baby in his arms, bouncing him up and down to make him laugh. Athena recognised the memory she was reliving.

Odysseus looked Athena’s way and noticed her. After glancing back at Penelope he approached Athena. She remembered how apprehensive she had felt when Odysseus held out the infant for her to hold. “His name is Telemachus,” he told her with undisguised pride.

Athena smiled and took the small child in her hands. This was the son Odysseus had done everything for. Her smile faded. Odysseus hadn’t seen him grow up into the scared but brave young man Athena knew him to be. If she didn’t fight for Odysseus, he would never get to meet the boy he had sacrificed so much for. Telemachus would never get to meet his father, who he needed and looked up to so much.

She couldn’t stay withdrawn in nostalgia. However painful it would be, she owed it to Odysseus that she didn’t give up fighting for him. She told herself that her pain was nothing compared to the torment Odysseus had gone through and was still experiencing, having lost everyone. Athena handed Telemachus back to Odysseus, memorising the loving look he gave his son. “See you soon,” she said.

She closed her eyes and let herself feel the pain her father had inflicted on her again. She blinked her eyes open and saw she was still on the floor, surrounded by her family. Some of the gods had approached her, but none dared to come too close while Zeus’ temper lasted. Athena pushed herself up onto her elbows, then to her knees, until she was standing shakily.

If Zeus was surprised, he didn’t show it. The sky rumbled and this time Athena saw the lightning bolt coming. She summoned her helmet that she must have dropped and conjured her shield onto her arm and blocked the blast. This enraged Zeus even more and he directed another lightning bolt her way.

Athena gathered all the power she had to withstand the attack. She made her way forward against the stream of rage her father sent her. The edges of the shield started to get singed, but Athena persisted. She had to do this for her friend. When she reached Zeus, she fell down on her knees and stretched a hand out in supplication.

The thunder faded to silence. Athena lowered her shield and looked up into her father’s eyes. “Let him go, please,” she begged. She took off her helmet to show her sincerity. Confusion showed on Zeus’ face – why would she go to such lengths for one mortal? She couldn’t explain it to him. He wouldn’t understand. She felt her power drain away quickly. With her last ounce of strength left, she repeated, “Let him go.”

Chapter Text

“Captain!” The waves roared. Wood creaked and planks snapped in half.

“Captain!” Men screamed. The ship rocked under Odysseus’ feet and the line he was holding onto burned in his palms.

“Captain?” A crestfallen Eurylochus looked at him. A wave crashed onto the deck and swept him away.

“Captain…” Polites lay at his feet, the hope in his eyes slowly fading.

Captain! Even in death they continued to haunt him. Captain!

Odysseus woke up and stared at the ceiling of the small cave that had been his home for the last seven years. Despite the recurring nature of the nightmare, it always left him with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Like he had every day for the past seven years, he suppressed the feeling and got up.

He didn’t see Calypso until after his usual exercise of the day. He had learned to tolerate her presence. She was a good listener. She hung onto every word he said. Sometimes she asked questions about things he’d rather not talk about. Calypso had learned to stop asking.

When the goddess approached him, Odysseus noticed her eyes were red. “I need to talk to you,” she said, as always demanding rather than asking. Odysseus frowned.

They walked down the beach together. Odysseus listened to how Calypso tried her best to control her breathing. They stopped at the water’s edge.

“Someone visited me today.”

Odysseus’ eyes widened and he looked at her, but she held her gaze fixed on the ocean. He could see tears start to form in her eyes.

“They said…” She took a deep breath to stop her voice from wavering. “They told me to let you go. That our time together has come to an end.” Her voice turned bitter. “That you’re not mine to save.”

Odysseus swallowed, his heart racing. Could he finally go home? Who was it that had visited Calypso? Why hadn’t they shown themself to Odysseus?

“So I just wanted to say…” Calypso took his hand in hers and looked at him. “You’re a special man, Odysseus. I’ve never met someone like you before. But then, I’ve never met many people.” She chuckled humourlessly, searching his face. “I’m- If I pushed you, or… or went too far… If I came on too strong…” She let go of his hand and looked away for a moment. “If you- If you hate me…” She grabbed his hand again and played with his calloused fingers. “Then, I admit I was wrong. I’m sorry-” She choked on her words and looked up at him with watering eyes. “I’m sorry my love’s too much for you.”

Odysseus opened his mouth to say something, but wasn’t sure what he could say.

A tear rolled down Calypso’s cheek. “I’m not sorry for loving you,” she whispered.

“Calypso…”

She shook her head. “Let me speak. You’ve told me all about yourself, or, maybe not all, but enough… But I never told you about myself. You never asked,” she added quietly. She took a deep breath and turned to look at the island. “I’ve spent my whole life on this island. When I was young, Zeus banished me here. All because I stayed loyal to my father Atlas and chose his side in the Titans’ war against the Olympians. I was cursed to be alone forever. I’ve never had someone I could consider a friend before. So when you washed up here…”

She looked down as if the spot where they were standing was exactly where it had been. It may well have been, Odysseus couldn’t remember if it was. Then she looked at him with more adoration and desperation in her eyes than she had showed him before.

“I thought you were my dream come true. The gods had sent me a blessing.”

This time it was Odysseus who grabbed her hands. She searched his face, but he didn’t say anything. Nothing he could say would heal her pain. He felt sympathy for the lonely goddess, but he couldn’t give her what she wanted. After a moment Calypso scowled and she retracted her hands.

“I keep thinking about moments like these. Moments where I think there’s something between us, but you’ve told me before that you-” She sighed. “I wish you would chase me like I chase you, or touch me or show me that you care or… I wish you would lie and say-”

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

Odysseus felt bad. He couldn’t muster a sympathetic smile. “But not… in the way you want me to.”

The hope that had flared up in Calypso’s eyes was crushed in an instant. She clenched her jaw and her reddened eyes bored into his. “I hate- I hate-” She turned away, her shoulders tense. “I hate that I fell in love with you!” She couldn’t bring herself to say that she hated Odysseus, because she didn’t. “You’re leaving and I hate that I’ll miss you! How am I going to-” A sob prevented her from speaking. “How am I supposed to get over you?”

Odysseus’ hand hovered over her shoulder, but he withdrew it.

“Why are the gods so cruel to make me fall in love with you?” She let the sobs wrack through her body until the tears stopped coming and the urge to scream or break something subsided. All the while Odysseus watched her silently. She took a few deep breaths and turned back to him. Her usually cheerful face only showed weariness. “Why in the world won’t you love me too?”

Odysseus knew she knew the answer. He also knew that her feelings didn’t listen to reason. Calypso strode away. Odysseus didn’t watch her go.

He turned his thoughts to building a raft and leaving Ogygia. He’d need to pack food, but nothing else. He had no possessions that he could to bring. All that belonged to him now had been given to him by Calypso in the last years, everything else he had lost. He thought about bringing the weapons he’d made to practise fighting and hunting with to maintain his skills and strength, but dismissed it. The weapons had been good enough to train with, but if push came to shove, his fists would be more deadly.

He left the next morning. Calypso hadn’t shown herself anymore. He knew vaguely which direction to go, because he’d been waiting and preparing for this moment for the past seven years, studying the stars and tides at every opportunity he got. It wasn’t his first time trying to leave and he hoped Calypso had been right about having permission to go, because he knew how painful the consequences of attempting to escape Zeus’ spell were. He did not look back at the beach where Calypso had come to watch him go after all. He did not look back as Ogygia shrank to a dot on the horizon and then disappeared. He was free.

He could not forget Calypso. Perhaps he should’ve told her that. Perhaps he should’ve told her that he would not have survived the past seven years if it hadn’t been for her. Perhaps that would only have hurt her more.

His thoughts strayed to home as he sailed on his handmade raft, rowing with an oar to steer the unwieldy creation. He didn’t know how far it was, but he couldn’t imagine it was close. Zeus wouldn’t have put him on an island so close to home. The position of the stars confirmed that.

He wished he had a ship and the men to row it. It dawned on him that for the first time, he was all alone. Back on Ogygia he had felt lonely, but he had never actually been on his own. As far as his sight reached, there was nothing but sea. He redoubled his rowing efforts to quell the feelings that threatened to choke him.

Despite the years of daily exercises, his whole body was sore by the time the sun began to dip into the sea. He needed to rest, but it would only take a moment of inattentiveness to send him in the wrong direction. An anxious look at the sky told him that the stars would be obscured by clouds so he had no landmarks to even tell him if he’d gone the wrong way. When the sun was gone, he would lose all leads.

He rowed until it was dark and his muscles felt like they were on fire. He lowered the primitive sail and let the sea carry the raft wherever it liked. It was as good a direction as any. He tied the oar to a rope and his wrist to another, just in case he’d be thrown off the raft in his sleep. He didn’t tie it so tight that he couldn’t easily untie it if the raft were to be dragged to the bottom of the sea.

The bobbing of the raft made the nightmares of being on board a ship more vivid than they had been in his little cave on Calypso’s island. He awoke with a start after a dream about the moment Zeus had blasted his ship with lightning. It was still dark, but he couldn’t get back to sleep. It was colder than he had accounted for, having gotten used to the higher temperatures on Ogygia. At least the raft hadn’t spontaneously fallen apart while he had been sleeping.

When he watched the sun rise, its position couldn’t tell Odysseus anything about his own position in the ocean. He didn’t know how far the raft had drifted overnight. He sighed and resigned himself to another day of rowing, in spite of his protesting muscles.

It was a mind-numbing task. He had no idea where he was going. He just rowed. The thought occurred to him that he should save his energy so he could save food, but he kept rowing. That way, it at least felt like he was achieving something. When the sun was once again about to complete its journey through the sky, Odysseus was starting to doubt his rowing had any effect. All he was doing was streaking the oar through the water without much power behind it. “How am I ever going to get home this way,” he wondered aloud.

“All you have to do is not open this bag,” a voice answered lightly.

Odysseus’ head shot up. There, leaning against the mast, stood someone with a winged helmet and winged sandals. “Hermes?”

The god laughed and slung an arm over his shoulders, taking the oar from his stiff fingers. “Hello, old friend.”

Relief washed over Odysseus. “You are the one who talked to Calypso? What are you doing here? Why-”

Hermes held up a hand to stop the stream of questions. He sat down on the raft’s planks, motioning for Odysseus to do the same, and turned serious. “You’ve been given one final chance to get home. Now, it wasn’t easy, but here you are, on the open sea.”

“About that-”

“It’s not going to get easier, my friend. We’ve tried to help you on your way as much as possible, but I have to warn you that it’s still going to be dangerous. You’ve got to do everything in your power, think of every trick you could ever come up with, if you want to make it home.”

Odysseus stared at him. That was nothing new, he had made the decision long ago to do anything to get back to Penelope and Telemachus. “So what do I do? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really getting anywhere right now.”

“I have noticed,” Hermes smiled, “being the god of travellers.” He looked up at the quickly darkening sky. “That would be my first bit of help. See that star there? The North Star? Just follow that and you’ll eventually get to a place where you’ll know your way around again.”

Odysseus nodded. Hermes got up and started fiddling with the lines keeping the sail in place, adjusting them so the raft was headed in the right direction.

“Now, on your way there, you’ll encounter Charybdis. She’s a monster to look out for, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” He flashed his teeth and Odysseus was reminded of how high Hermes’ expectations of him were. “And then you just keep going until you reach Ithaca! But it won’t yet be over then. So when the lurking strangers there try to bar the way, just…” Hermes shrugged. “Fight them. Deal with them in any way you can. I trust you’ll do great.”

“Sounds… great. What about Poseidon, though? Don’t forget he’s still out there. I can’t imagine him being very happy that I’m roaming all over his sea again.”

“Ah!” Hermes proudly produced a bag that made Odysseus’ stomach drop. “That’s what we went through so much trouble for. You might’ve seen it before.” He winked and solemnly handed Odysseus the newly filled wind bag. The tear that Odysseus had slashed in it had been carefully mended.

“Not this piece of misery again.”

Hermes put a hand on his shoulder, making Odysseus look into his serious eyes. “Do not, under any circumstances, open this bag if you want to make it home, you hear me? If you open this bag, you’ll blow all your chances of ever getting home again. No second chances then. You would unleash a storm that will not allow any mortal to pass. Poseidon was very clear about that.”

“I know.” He set his jaw and took a deep breath. He knew what was at stake. “I’ve faced danger before. I won’t let this opportunity go to waste.” He had to get home, he had to see his son and wife again. It had become his sole mission. Of course he would do anything to see it done. Had Poseidon not told him to be ruthless? Odysseus would show him how ruthless he could get if it meant getting back to Penelope and Telemachus.

Hermes helped him to his feet and handed him back the oar. Then he untied a piece of cloth from around his waist and draped it as a cloak over Odysseus’ shoulders, before patting him on one shoulder. “Remember, just keep on rowing.”

Odysseus realised the weariness and the aching in his muscles had dissipated. “Hermes!” he said before the god could fly away. “Thank you.”

He received the same faint smile as last time, though this time he thought he could detect a hint of sadness in it. “Don’t thank me, friend. I’m not the one who fought for you.”

Odysseus frowned. “Then who did?”

Hermes blew him a kiss. “Good luck!”

Chapter Text

Odysseus didn’t know if it was because of the cloak Hermes had given him, but rowing didn’t tire him as much after his encounter with the god. Nevertheless, he was careful to save his energy. He heeded Hermes’ advice and followed the North Star until, days later, he saw the first signs of land. He steered the raft towards the strait between two landmasses.

When he got closer, he noticed the water behaving strangely. Instead of streaming straight towards the channel, it flowed towards the edges, as if there was something in the centre it revolved around. His first thought was that Poseidon must be behind this, but then he saw that he was wrong – there really was something in the water, creating a massive whirlpool. As much as it was possible, Odysseus kept his distance to observe before braving it.

A long neck with barely anything to call a head at the end erupted from the centre of the whirlpool, its circular mouth closing around prey that the whirlpool had drawn in. A moment later, the creature disappeared under the water and a tidal wave gushed out from the middle, reversing the waterflow’s direction.

“That must be Charybdis,” Odysseus muttered. Hermes had warned him about her, but had not given him any instructions on how to get past her. He studied the landmasses on either side, but the rocks were high and jagged and the force of the water crashing into the sides would shatter the raft to pieces if he tried to get close. He couldn’t risk going ashore. He had to face Charybdis.

A plan started to form. He let the whirlpool pull his raft towards the monster. It was slow at first, but the closer he got, the stronger the current got. He put the oar down and hung onto the sail to let the wind keep him on the outskirts of the swirling water as much as possible, resisting the water’s pull. He circled along with the whirlpool and, despite his best efforts, gradually got closer to the centre.

The churning water was deafening, but over the booming sound he could hear Charybdis’ high-pitched ringing roar. Odysseus held on to the sail and hoped his calculations were correct. He counted in his head. He circled faster and faster, getting closer and closer to the centre, getting closer to Charybdis’ opened mouth.

The muscles in his arms protested. He was getting dizzy. His legs trembled. The wind lashed his wet skin and made him tense his muscles more than he wished. He was moments away from getting sucked into the monster’s mouth.

His calculations were correct. Before Charybdis had the chance to ingest him, she had swallowed too much water and held her breath for too long. She had to spit the water back out.

Not a moment too soon, water erupted like fountain, shooting the raft with Odysseus on it into the air. He clung to the mast, the wind bag still secure on his belt. When the raft hit the water’s surface again, the force threw Odysseus off and he was submerged under water. The tidal wave dragged him down and rendered his attempts at swimming useless.

If Odysseus didn’t know better he would have prayed to the god of the sea. Instead, he prayed to Hermes, the only god he knew for certain to be on his side. He flailed his limbs and tried with all his might to get to the light, which was the only indication of which way was up. Finally he broke the surface and he gasped for air, coughing up water. He felt for the wind bag and was relieved to find it still attached to his belt, still unopened. The landmasses on either side of the water he was in suggested that he had made it to the opposite side of Charybdis’ whirlpool.

The first thing he needed to do was get as far away as possible from Charybdis, before the whirlpool could drag him back towards her. He swam until the exhaustion in his limbs threatened to make him go under again. Odysseus looked around for something to hold on to.

Something floated on the water. He couldn’t tell what or how big it was, but it gave him something to aim for. With his last shreds of determination, he swam to it. It was further than he thought. The sea felt rougher than it looked. On a ship the waves would be nothing to be worried about, but now that he was one man relying on his bodily strength alone, it seemed like an impossible task to get to the floating thing.

He thanked the gods when he got close enough to identify it as his raft. The mast was snapped but still attached, making the sail drag in the water. Odysseus hoisted himself onto the planks and continued to lie there, too tired to lift even a finger. He trusted that he was too far away from Charybdis to see her as a threat and that he could afford to rest there for a moment. And if it turned out that Charybdis’ whirlpool would drag him back anyway, there was nothing he could do about it.

After a while, the wood began to groan and the planks under Odysseus started to tilt sideways. He realised the sail was catching too much water and was being dragged under. With a groan of his own, Odysseus raised himself from his lying position and made work of detaching the sail from the broken mast. He regretted not having an axe, because then he would have just chopped the mast off. He didn’t even have so much as a dagger to cut through the lines binding the sail to the yard. He resorted to prying the yard loose from the mast and losing it to the sea.

Odysseus lay on his back, looking up at the sky as it got darker and stars became visible. He pulled Hermes’ cloak tighter around his shoulders. It had dried by now and the night was cold. He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Only when he awoke the next morning did he realise what had been so comforting about the sight of the stars. The constellations and their positions were familiar. He was not home yet, but he knew the way. Only one more sea to cross.

The next task he set his mind to, was to make sure he regained some control over the direction the raft was going. He considered making the useless mast into an oar, but it was too heavy and he had no tools to carve the excess wood away. Then he got the idea to use Hermes’ cloak as a sail. He had enough rope to more or less fasten the mast to the stump that had remained upright. He tied one end of the cloak to the top and two other ends to the sides of the raft, forming a triangle. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Then Odysseus prayed for a favourable wind, which the west wind Zephyrus listened to, judging by the warm wind that graced his cheek and set the raft in motion.

By some miracle, or a blessing of the gods, he did not run out of food or water. The wind bag didn’t trouble him as much as it had before, now that he had no crew to worry about. Apart from the boredom and impatience, the final leg of the journey was going flawlessly. The ease almost made Odysseus suspicious.

After some uneventful days at sea, his heart jumped when he sighted land. He had sailed away from Ithaca and come back before, so it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. After so many years of false hope and misfortune, Odysseus almost couldn’t allow himself to feel happy to finally set eyes on his homeland again. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“I’m almost there, Penelope,” he said, hoping the wind would carry his words to her. He laughed. “Telemachus. We’re going to be together again. I’m on my way. Just hold on for a little while longer.” The wind and the waves carried him excruciatingly slowly towards Ithaca. Towards his home. “Hold on. I’m going to be there today. Tonight I’ll sleep next to my wife again…”

He kept his tearful eyes fixed on the island, recognising details he had spent years wishing to see again. He let his gaze wander up the hill, imagining himself walking the path to his palace. Was Penelope keeping watch for his return?

He was so caught up in his daydreams that it took him a while to notice he wasn’t getting closer anymore. “What?”

It felt as if a gigantic hand had grabbed the raft and was pulling it backwards, away from Ithaca. He looked around, but didn’t see such a hand. Then he noticed how dark the water around him had turned. Dread flooded his stomach. “No…”

Waves rose in front of him and carried the raft away from the island. Ithaca disappeared from view. There was only one person who could be behind this. “NO!” Odysseus screamed, gripping the edges of the raft, frantically searching the horizon for a sign of his home. He cursed himself for getting his hopes up again.

Deep laughter sounded from the depths around him. “There you are, coward.”