Chapter Text
Telemachus picked his way down towards the water’s edge. Early mornings by the sea were the only time his mother let him wander. While he was already thirteen years old, she was nervous about him being gone too long. After all, he was the next in line to a long-empty throne. The other kings that had fought in that cursed war had come home long ago, but Ithaca was still waiting, as if frozen in time. Telemachus sighed as he stepped into the shallow water, raising his eyes. He liked to pretend he could see his father’s ship coming, loaded down with treasure and friendly faces. They’d dock by the shore and return home, and then everything would be made right again. He peered into the mist, a faint sense of hope lingering in his mind. Nothing met his eyes but a bitter wind.
He had expected as much and turned to trudge down the shore. A figure caught his eye and he squinted into the distance. It looked to be a man perched on a rock among the waves. He wondered what he could possibly be doing. After a moment’s hesitation he set out towards the rock. Even if he couldn’t get an explanation, he should say a greeting. The current pressed against his legs as he strode out, seeming to fight him with every move. He pressed on and soon the rock was only an arms’ length away. Sudden hesitation caught hold of him. Would the man be angry? Did he come here for quiet just like he did? After a pause he dismissed the thoughts as ridiculous. Why would anyone take offense at a simple greeting? Still, he inclined his head and took a deep breath as he stepped out into the open.
“Greetings, good sir – I” The sharp points of a golden weapon halted mere inches from his eyes.
“Scare me again like that and I swear, I won’t hesitate.”
The weapon whisked away and Telemachus’ heart rate slowly dropped from its level in the sky. He didn't think the man really meant his threat. He'd heard sailors talk like that before - just trying to sound tough without any really anger behind it. He stared at the man instead with his mouth slightly open. He was taller than anyone he had ever seen. Long, black hair billowed from his head. One of his arms was made with water, reflecting rays of the early sunlight like beacons through the mist. In his water hand he clutched the handle of a trident. A trident!
“You’re Poseidon!” Telemachus yelped, his voice hitting an unmanly pitch. “You’re the Poseidon?!”
The god winced at his shriek. “Not if you kill me first.”
"I'm talking with an Olympian?!" Telemachus' voice cracked.
Poseidon shifted, muttering, “Olympus, this kid needs testosterone like I need seawater.”
Telemachus had no idea what that was supposed to mean. After a moment he pulled himself onto the same rock, still staring at the god. The god turned to see him and groaned.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“I’m Telemachus. What are you doing here?” Telemachus ventured.
“I’m waiting for someone, if you must know,” Poseidon muttered.
“Really? I’m waiting for someone too! Let’s wait together!” Telemachus shimmied up to sit next to the god before he could respond. The god’s eye twitched and he smiled the widest grin Telemachus had ever seen.
“Well, it’s great to see you kid, but I think you should take a dip.”
Telemachus’ tried his best to hold in the laugh but it burst out of him. “Great to “sea” you? You’re funny!”
A grim smile broke out on the god’s face. “The sea has killed a lot of people, so I guess you could say I really put the “fun” in “funeral.”
Telemachus laughed harder. Poseidon raised an eyebrow.
“You raised in a humorless home or something?”
Telemachus hesitated, but the chance of a listening ear was too great of a temptation.
“Well . . . that’s the first time I laughed in a long time because well . . . my mother has been really sad recently because my father has been gone at war since I was a baby and we think he’s dead by now but I sometimes imagine that he’s coming back and well – I – I . . .” his voice trailed off.
“Hm,” the god grunted. Telemachus searched his eyes for any sign of emotion and found none. His stomach twisted, but he had grown accustomed to the feeling over the years. At least he’d heard him out. He didn’t really know what else he had expected. Still, it was comforting to be able to sit with someone. He smiled as the water lapped at his feet.
“Can you really direct storms and make typhoons?” Telemachus asked, his curiosity bubbling up again.
“Sure I can,” the god said.
“That’s so cool! Can I see?”
“Maybe some other time.”
Telemachus’ eyes sparkled. “Can I see you tomorrow?”
******
Poseidon pondered the boy’s question. He’d already deduced that he was Odysseus’ son, a vital piece in his game. Yes, he could work with this. Discarding him too soon would be disadvantageous. And so he smiled through the irritation and spoke.
“I suppose.”
“Yes!” the boy cried. He glanced at the sun’s position and hopped off the rock.
“I need to go, Lord Poseidon, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” The boy waved, grinning at him.
Poseidon waved back and watched as the boy disappeared into the distance. A cruel smile played at the edge of his lips. The boy was childishly open to his influence. He knew full well that Odysseus was alive, although detained on an island. He’d seen him himself, a few times. The magic on the island was strong, but based on Odysseus’ determination, he figured he’d be back one day. Poseidon stirred the trident in the foam at his feet, his mind racing gleefully. Now this, this was an opportunity at revenge he could work at even while Odysseus was out of his reach. He chuckled as he watched the boy’s slight figure stumble back up the bank towards the palace.
“Play with the sea all you want, boy. The tide won’t take you under. I promise.”