Chapter Text
“Any moment now,” said Odysseus again, half-under his breath as he paced the cobbles of the Crossroads.
Behind him, Dora lounged at his table, entirely unsympathetic. “Yeah, you said ,” she said dryly. “Y’know, pacing isn’t gonna make them kill Chronos any faster.”
“Shouldn’t you be going over the itinerary?” said Odysseus, a little sharper than he intended. Luckily, Dora just arched a brow.
“The one I’ve checked twelve times already?”
Odysseus pulled a face. It was impossible to tell how long it had been since Hecate and the others had left the Crossroads. They could have been fighting Chronos for days or years or minutes. If a mere disagreement over an apple had lasted a decade, how long would a siege to kill a Titan last? How much ichor would be spilled like mortal blood? Or they could have not even reached him yet, all that Olympian power shuddering through the Underworld little more than grief and the death-throes of the gods he’d pledged himself to.
The Crossroads was ready for their eventuality. The extra wards were raised, shades gathered in shelters and awaiting instructions to either flee or, hopefully, begin the move back into the House of Hades. Odysseus tried not to imagine Melinoë down there, bloodied and bruised and fighting endlessly against Time itself . She was a goddess, one who’d trained her whole life for this, whose every action and experience had been moulded around death to Chronos . One way or another, it would all come to an end tonight.
The thought made him sick and jittery in a way no siege had ever done before. Would he have been like this if Telemachus had been older when he’d left, had been drafted to war with his father? A memory flashed through his mind - Iphigenia at the altar, her blood spilling over her own father’s hands, Agemenon’s grief and fury and pride. Odysseus’ knuckles went white.
A low shudder went through the Underworld, jolting Odysseus from his thoughts. The scent of ozone rippled up from the earth and into the sky in an instant - the Olympians were leaving. Dora straightened beside him, craning her head to look at the winding Styx.
“Any moment now,” whispered Odysseus, and this time Dora only nodded.
The Crossroads held its breath.
The sight of Charon’s boat drawing near the Crossroads’ shore almost made Odysseus melt with relief.
Shades hovered near the riverbank, murmuring and shifting. Charon unhinged their jaw and gave a low warble, clearing a path as their boat shored up. Charon ambled across the chalk-mottled earth. Odysseus searched their countenance for any sign of the battle’s outcome - surely the sedate pace meant the battle was successful? Or was it grief hobbling the boatman’s steps? Charon gave another groan as they came to a stop. Purple eyes bored into Odysseus, and the shade thought dimly that he really should be able to understand the Chthonic god by now, but all he got was the shiver of death and the ripple of abiding currents.
“Is it…is she…he’s…?” Odysseus tried, his throat closing too fast around the words.
Charon looked as if they were about to speak again, but instead cocked their head. A second later, a waft of ozone followed by a flash of gold hurtled into the Crossroads.
“Sorry I’m late - ah, good, you’re all here!” said Hermes. There was blood speckling his feathers, but otherwise he looked unharmed. “As my good boatman here was saying, we’re in the clear. M did it! She’s down in the house now with her family and Hecate. My lot have already gone back to deal with what remains of the mountain forces - Chronos may be fast asleep now thanks to ol’ Hypnos, but the rest of his army is still very much awake! Anyway, good catching up with you all, but I must dash. Charon’ll take you all down to the House. Cheerio!”
With that, Hermes pecked Charon on one withered cheekbone and then vanished.
“ Hhhrrrrr, ” said Charon, and if Odysseus thought the boatman could blush, he would swear they were as red as a beetroot in that moment (proverbially, of course - godly ichor was different from mortal blood).
“Well, then,” said Odysseus, feeling himself finally relax a little as the news sunk in. “We best get a move on, aye?”
Charon rumbled in agreement, and with that, they got to work. Odysseus began issuing commands, barking orders and directing the inhabitants of the Crossroads into various queues down to the shoreline. Dora dutifully ticked each shade off her list, as well as the various items Lady Hecate had said were imperative to get to the House as soon as possible. Everything else would wait until Charon’s next voyage.
The boatman was already pushing their power - vast swathes of river-mist had descended on the Styx, and the creak of water-worn wood rippled through the fog. Charon stood at the helm of their boat - or, rather, what appeared to be their boat split into a small fleet. Other times, the mist would shift and it was simply the lone barge, impossibly empty despite the shades filing onto it. Odysseus shook his head to clear it. There was no point dwelling on the mechanism of magick, whether it be witch-craft or god-born.
And then, at last, it was Odysseus’ turn.
“You know, I was thinking maybe I should stay,” he said as he walked with Dora towards the snaking Styx. “Someone needs to look after the good witch’s things. And what if the remnants of Chronos’ army flees through here? There’s far too much powerful magick lying around, unguarded and-”
“ Gggggnnnnrrrr,” said Charon.
“Boat boy’s right,” said Dora, chin on one ghostly paw. “Quit stalling and get on the raft.”
Odysseus blinked - since when did Dora understand Charon so well? And “ boat boy” ? - but his thoughts stuttered to a halt as he stared at the river.
It was a ridiculous fear, really. It wasn’t like he could die again. And even in life, he’d never drowned. Despite Poseidon’s efforts, he had stayed thoroughly alive and undrowned until he’d fulfilled his quest and reunited with his family. But part of him was rooted to the spot, to the shore of yet another island, alone and undrowned and looking across the endless sea to where his family waited again. Penelope, with her wry smile. Diomedes’ booming laughter. Telemachus sleeping peacefully in his swaddle. The patter of burning feet on flagstones, the clash of silver knives against chalk-dusted bracers, golden eyes closing for the last time.
Odysseus’ nails dug into his palms. His mouth was bitter and there was salt crusting his lips. How could he forget the family he’d fought for? His own flesh and blood? The loves that had spurred him through his darkest nights? How could he have replaced them in his mind? When had home become this earth-damp camp and not the shining halls of Ithaca?
The water rose in his throat, running over his cheeks. He did not know when he’d become weak, when in his life or death he’d stopped being able to push through any fear or emotion or puzzle and become…helpless. Stranded.
“I…I don’t know if I can,” he said hoarsely. In his mind, he was screaming for Athena’s guidance, throwing himself at her altar, begging for direction, to feel the point of a spear at his back and the sharp gaze of an owl cutting through the gloom.
“ Hhhggggrrrrr .”
Odysseus glanced up. Charon held out their hand, steady as the day Odysseus had first been asked to board. Swallowing his pride, Odysseus took their hand.
Charon’s grip was firm, but did not react to the vice-like fear Odysseus held on with. The river was still as a mirror as Odysseus approached, Charon on one side and Dora hovering at the other. The boat didn’t dip or sway as he stepped up and onto it.
He let out a sharp breath as soon as he was in the boat, Charon releasing his hand to drift towards the prow of the skiff. Odysseus threw out an arm to steady himself, hunching a little. It wasn’t that he’d lost his sea-legs in death - it was that it felt like he’d never left a boat at all.
The Underworld passed in a blur of twisting branches and shadowed riverbanks. Odysseus kept his gaze fixed on the gnarled wood of the skiff - the few times he’d looked up, his mind had conjured shapes of sirens and island shores among the Styx reeds. Odysseus curled in on himself a little more. He never thought he’d find the idea of Underworld fauna more comforting than white sand and sea gulls, but then his existence in death was very different to his existence in life now, after so many years adrift.
The boat rocked, jolting Odysseus from his thoughts. Charon had moored the boat by the Pool of Styx, shades filing out in an orderly manner despite the debris still littering the great halls. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a memory stirred - his arrival, guided by Hermes who whisked him past the blood-red river and the meandering, endless lines of the dead to be presented to the Lord of the Underworld directly and granted the misty splendour of Elysium.
“ Gggmmmnnn,” said Charon from behind him.
“Ah. Yes. So we have,” said Odysseus, offering a brittle smile. “Thank you for the ride, Ferryman.”
“Come on, slow poke,” called Dora from the steps.
“ Gnggg,” said Charon.
“Thank you, but I think I will be fine,” Odysseus said, standing. He managed to disembark without any help, and Dora immediately bobbed to his side.
“D’ya think they’ll make us help clean all this up?” she asked, waving a paw at the shattered marble dotting the hall.
The damage was vast. Though Hermes had indicated the gods had already removed the worst in order to stabilise the Underworld, there was still piles of ash from where Chronos’ army had been cremated, broken Olympian Automatons and smears of ichor on the cracked stone.
“We shall see what Lady Hecate asks of us,” said Odysseus. That was the plan, after all - whatever his gods wished of him would be done. “And Lord Hades, too,” he added. “Though I doubt their orders will contradict much that we will need to pick. We are Hecate’s first, and his second, so…”
All words died in his throat as he reached the end of the hall.
Melinoë was with her family at last, looking shell-shocked and happy as Zagreus talked and Persephone trembled and clutched at her daughter’s arms, beaming. Hades stood with them looking proud, Hecate a few paces away and tending to -
Chronos.
Hypnos.
His eyes had almost passed over his god, were his form not so familiar, were fear not driving him to look past the gaunt Titan and to the sleeping god clawing at Time’s eyes. Hypnos looked so small, so serene even as ichor dripped from under his nails and down the Titan’s face.
“Odysseus,” rasped Hecate. Her voice was gentle and firm, and she held out a hand in gesture for him to come closer.
“My Lady,” Odysseus responded automatically, unable to look away from the statuesque forms in front of him.
There was a swish of fabric, the scent of smoke and spices passing over him. Silver talons dug into his arm, enough to jerk his attention back to the goddess in front of him, to make his skin feel real and his body have weight to it once again. Dora muttered a distant excuse and vanished.
“Are you with me, General?” she asked, green eyes boring into him.
He nodded. “Aye,” he said, swallowing and focusing properly. “What do you need, goddess?”
Hecate withdrew, looking pleased. “Did you bring what I asked?”
Odysseus nodded, and glanced behind him for the troop of shades he’d selected to help carry the witch’s supplies. “All in order for you,” he said.
Hecate hummed and nodded as she briefly went through her items. It was awfully familiar - her grace and poise as she swept around the broken dias, the long sticks of chalk pinned between her silver talons. But where before Hypnos had been sad and smiling, clutching gifts from his family and doused in well-wishes and trust, now he was blank-faced and still as the dead. There was no knife from Nemesis this time, no promise to wake him if they thought something was going wrong. Death to Chronos was the only end left.
Odysseus flinched as there was a sharp crack behind him. A faint scent of anise, eucalyptus and iron drifted towards him. His hand closed around a gifted knife that wasn’t there, knuckles white and trembling as he forced himself to breathe.
Hecate bristled, chalk poised in taloned hands. “We agreed your justice would take the form of Chronos’ final death,” she said. “Do not tell me your patience has already worn so thin?”
Nemesis scowled. “Hardly,” she said. “I know the plan. So long as I get to kill Chronos in the end, I’m happy.”
Hecate turned back to her markings, but didn’t start drawing again. In fact, the witch remained tense, waiting for Nemesis to do something.
“Thought I’d come and watch you this time, seeing as the Crossroads doesn’t need guarding and the Princess is all grown up now,” continued Nemesis. Her voice was careful, but there was an undercurrent of threat to it. Hecate sighed briskly.
“Why, now, do you question me?” she asked, irate but not angry.
“You lied to Melinoë before,” said Nemesis. “When she was a child and asking after Hypnos.”
Hecate grit her teeth. “I did not,” she said. “I told her I had tried every spell and potion I could think to wake Hypnos. And I had . You think I did not try to kill Chronos myself? You think I did not try to hasten the conditions to break Hypnos’ sleep? I swore to Hera herself I would do everything in my power to ensure his safety. And I would still do so even if the gods were lying dead at Time’s feet, because I want Hypnos to live.”
Nemesis made a non-committal noise. Her gaze drifted somewhere behind Hecate. “Well. You better have some better excuses prepared for him,” she said.
Odysseus followed her gaze. A trio made their way towards them - Melinoë, grinning tired but genuine at him, with Prince Zagreus in tow and Death himself at the prince’s shoulder.
“Odysseus!” Melinoë called, darting forwards.
For a moment, it seemed like she was going to hug him, but then something like guilt flashed across her face and the princess came to a sudden halt just shy of making contact. Odysseus pushed down the strange lump in his throat and smiled at her.
“Princess!” he said fondly. “Are you well? How did our Lady’s training hold up against the Olympians’?”
“Headmistress taught me well,” said Melinoë, beaming. She stepped back, looking at Zagreus beside her as she continued. “And, as it so happens, Commander Schelemeus also taught my-”
“ Brother!”
The shadow beside Prince Zagreus vanished, and Odysseus whirled around just in time to see it explode back into existence in front of Chronos.
“What did you do to him?” Death roared, turning to Hecate. A ichor-stained scythe materialised in his shaking hands, violet light flashing from its single, haunted eye. Death advanced - Nemesis lunged and grabbed him.
“Watch the chalk,” she growled as Thanatos thrashed. His nails grew to pale talons, scratching at Nemesis’ dark bracers as he snarled and seethed.
“ What did you do to him? ”
Prince Zagreus hurried forwards, looking torn. His eyes looked from Thanatos to Hypnos to Hecate, taking in the magick being drawn on the ground and the ichor bottle in Hecate’s grasp. He opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed to fail him.
“Calm down ,” said Nemesis, pinning her younger brother to her chest in a vice-like hug. “Do you want answers or not?”
Thanatos’ eyes flashed, but he ceased trying to escape. Nemesis held on to him for a few more moments, waiting until Death’s breathing evened out a little before letting him go.
Hecate watched this whole exchange impassively. Once it was clear Thanatos was able to listen, Hecate straightened, but she kept herself between Death and her chalk markings.
“Hypnos is using his powers to keep Chronos asleep while we find a way to kill him,” said Hecate.
Thanatos stared. “ What ?” he said flatly. “No. That’s not right. He-”
“He did so before, when he put you and all others trapped in the House asleep to conserve your strength,” interrupted Hecate. “Now, let me return to my work. I need to complete the seals while the blood is still fresh.”
Zagreus blanched. Thanatos’ expression was blank as he processed this information, until Hecate lifted the ichor bottle to begin working.
“What is that?” Thanatos breathed. “That’s his - what did you do to him?”
Hecate clearly bit back a sigh, her green eyes sparking with growing irritation. “I combined Hypnos’ and Chronos’ bloods. Hypnos drank the Titan’s ichor and then gave me some of that new blood which flows through him. This way, the spells will hold, and we have more chance to keep Time’s death permanent this time.”
“You did what ?” said Thanatos, taking a jerky step towards Hecate. Smoke rippled off his trembling limbs, golden eyes blazing from dark, hollowed sockets. “You fed my sibling Titan blood? Fattened him up with it like a lamb for slaughter? A sacrificial bull?”
Hecate his gaze, unbothered by the fury wicking off Death Incarnate in waves. “Hypnos agreed to the plan voluntarily,” she said. “He understood the risks involved, and understood this is our best course of action.”
“Did he?” seethed Thanatos. “Do you know my brother? He barely understands anything !”
Odysseys bit his lip so hard that he could taste the phantom tang of blood.
“You give your sibling too little credit,” he said, voice even despite the indignance curling through him.
Thanatos’ lip lifted in a sneer.
“ You do not speak to me, shade ,” he snapped, the words spat through the air with such force it made Odysseus’ shade-skin flicker.
The god had already turned his attention back to Hecate as Odysseus gathered himself.
“And you should know better,” Thanatos spat. “Out of all of us, Hypnos is the one least suited to tasks like this! His heart is too soft,” Thanatos added, his voice quieter on the last part, anger wavering slightly.
“My General is right,” said Hecate. “You give your sibling too little credit. Now, will you aide us in our task, or continue to stand in the way of helping Hypnos survive this?”
Thanatos stood, staring at Hecate with his chest heaving and thick black smoke filling the air around him. Subtly, Nemesis shifted to put herself between Hecate’s chalk and her own brother. Prince Zagreus reached out, gently setting a hand on Thanatos' shoulder. Death flinched.
“Than,” said Zagreus gently. “We…I believe them. We have to trust them on this. My father does. So does Nyx. Your siblings, too,” he said, gesturing at Nemesis.
A muscle ticked in Death’s jaw. “ Fine ,” he said, barely more than a growl. “But if anything happens to him, Chronos will seem like a mercy,” he added, glaring at Hecate. The stare was like a cold knife through Odysseus, and he fought the urge to run. Clearly, the instinctual mortal fear of Death still held, even in the afterlife.
With that, Thanatos turned abruptly and stalked off. Zagreus shot everyone an apologetic look, before darting after Death. Melinoë lingered, brow furrowed in worry.
“Do…do you need my help with anything, Headmistress?” Melinoë asked after a moment.
Hecate’s whole demeanour softened a little at that. The fire in her eyes was warm as she spoke. “No, Melinoë ,” she said. “Go to your family. I will see to Hypnos and his brother.”
Melinoë bit her lip, looking like she wanted to argue. Odysseus reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, the princess starting under the touch before relaxing so quickly it made his heart trip.
“You heard our Lady,” said Odysseus, striving for lightness despite the fear still lingering in his mind. “Go. Celebrate. Reacquaint yourself with your family. I know they missed you terribly,” he said, chest tight. Melinoë saw the look in his eyes, and nodded knowingly. “The dear goddess and I have things covered here.”
“Thanatos will come around,” said Nemesis. “Ignore him for now. Just…go home, Meli.”
Melinoë nodded again, taking a careful step back. She cast another long look between them all, and for one heart-breaking moment, Odysseus thought the princess would cry. Instead, she dropped in a salute.
“Death to Chronos,” she said, voice strong. She rose. “If you need me…you know where to find me.”
Hecate smiled. “I do indeed,” she said kindly. “Now go, child. Your family awaits.”
Melinoë left. Odysseus ignored the tremors running through his whole body. In his mind, he saw the shores of Ithaca, the stranger that was his son and the emotions that surged like a tidal wave and drowned him for days and years after. Hecate adjusted her grip on her chalks, casting him a glance.
“Odysseus?” she said.
“Yes, Goddess?” he said, ignoring the taste of salt in his mouth.
Hecate inclined her head. “Good,” she said, and turned back to her magick. “Now the real work begins.”
“Aye,” said Odysseus past the lump in his throat. He fought the urge to look back to find Melinoë , or tip his head up to see Hypnos. “So it does.”