Chapter Text
The rain hit the ground around Odysseus like bullets. He stared off the ledge of the cliff, gazing into the ocean that had taken so much from him. His mind raced with thoughts of those he’d lost, moments, both good and bad, now lost to time burned into his mind’s eye. The faces of both his wife and son flashed in his head like lightning strikes, only to vanish as quickly as they came. In a more coherent state he would’ve wondered what they looked like now, had they ever looked as he remembered them in the first place?
All semblance of rational thought vanished as his neck craned down slowly, off the edge. All it would take is one step for this nightmare to end. One step, one moment where he allowed himself to lose his balance at it would all be over. Maybe Hades would take mercy upon him, allow him to see Penelope and Telemachus once more when they too pass on. Maybe not. He couldn’t find it in him to care.
“Odysseus?” Calypso’s voice from behind him rang out, a sick feeling churning in his gut. She had no right to refer to him so affectionately. There was only one woman with that right, and for all he knew she was dead by now.
“Ody, get away from the ledge!”
But he was far, far past that point. For a moment he allowed himself to smile, the muscles in his face almost burned from the unfamiliar tug.
Not because of her, no. Never because of her. The promise of freedom was what truly tugged at his lips.
One step, that’s all it took.
And the ground rushed up to meet him.
He felt vines attempt to grab at his clothing, felt her desperate scream of “No!” shake the air around him, but she was too late.
He met his unconsciousness mercifully quickly, the world going dark as waves gently lapped at his broken body.
☆---☆
Odysseus wasn’t sure what he expected after plunging to his death, but it certainly wasn’t waking up wherever this was.
For a moment he couldn’t open his eyes. They were heavy. Whoever’s bed he found himself laying in was beyond comfortable, the softest thing he’d laid in 20 years, possibly ever. Surely he wasn’t still with Calypso. This felt nothing like her island, even the air around him felt different. He couldn’t hear the tide lapping the shore in the distance, or feel the arms of his captor wrapped tightly around his waist refusing to let him go. He couldn’t feel the incessant eyes boring into him, or the weight of guilt, couldn’t hear the screams of his crew echoing in his mind as they drowned. He couldn’t even feel the pain he should’ve been in from his fall, surely even if he hadn’t successfully died Calypso didn’t possess the healing capabilities to take all that pain away. It wasn’t until he rolled onto his back that his eyes fought back against the weight upon feeling something hard pressing into his back.
He groaned, slowly pulling himself upwards, wincing as a beam of light shot directly into his eyes as he slowly looked around. The room he found himself in was… extravagant. Unfamiliarly grand. More so than even his own palace back in Ithaca. Pillars of gold held up the intricate and oddly tall ceilings, large windows showed the almost empty outside, a void of pure sky. The bed he laid in appeared almost nest-like, circular in shape with pillows and blankets surrounding the edges in short walls.
And beside him in the bed was a staff. A very familiar staff from all those years ago when a certain god helped him defeat a certain witch on a certain island. It was fully gold, two snakes wrapped around the handle that branched out before two wings.
Had it been Hermes who saved him? Would he do that? Why? Even if he had, why would he have taken him to his room of all places? It simply made no sense.
Odysseus had little time to ponder this, as a soft knock rang out throughout the room.
“Lord Hermes?” What had to have been a servant called from outside the door, causing the man's heart to drop in his chest. He looked around, hoping to see the aforementioned god somewhere within the quarters, or to hear that laugh that was burned into his brain.
Yet alas, he was alone.
Odysseus physically jumped as the door swung open, revealing the servant. They appeared mostly human, however two small wings sprouted from the space behind their ears. They seemed completely unperturbed by his presence. “Lady Athena has requested your presence.”
Athena wanted to talk to him? After all these years? Was it her that saved him? Then why was he here and not with her? Questions raced through his mind, but he only managed to ask one.
“She’s not mad at me anymore?”
He nearly flinched at his own voice. Or rather, the voice that came from him. He couldn’t help but notice it was far, far different than what it should’ve been. Higher in pitch, a bit too flamboyant. The servant tilted their head to the side, a curious look on their face. “Have you gotten into a quarrel with her?”
Odysseus looked down at his folded hands, which seemed softer than what they had been before. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t possible. Was this a dream? It had to be. What, who could’ve possibly messed up this badly?
No. Surely that wasn’t it.
“You could say that.” He murmured upon realizing he’d been quiet for far too long, mind racing as his eyes widened. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Yes, sir.” The servant bowed politely before scurrying away. The moment he was alone again, he practically launched himself out of the nest, knocking over a few of the pillows and blankets onto the hard tile floor. He didn’t care, he didn’t have the time. He rushed to the nearest reflective surface, a full body mirror with a golden frame, eyes widening as he stared at himself.
He was both slightly more muscular and a bit taller, the skin a different shade. His hair fell in curls just below his shoulders, face more defined. His clothing was not his own, far too clean and intact. However, possibly most different were the two sets of wings, one set sprouting from behind his ears and the other from his back. He stared with his eyes wide in horror, manicured hand coming up to touch his face.
It couldn’t be happening. No, this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He stared in shock for far too long. His hand came up to pinch himself on the arm, sure he’d wake up back on that godforsaken island. But instead he winced, eye twitching slightly as it hurt far more than it should’ve.
He took several steps back until his back pressed hard against the wall, unable to take his eyes off his own reflection.
Accept it wasn’t his own. Because that could not have been him. That was Hermes staring back at him, mimicking his exact expressions and movements from behind the glass as some weird trick. A trick he was playing as punishment for him daring to attempt and end his stay at Calypso’s island early. That had to be it.
But as he looked down at himself and back into the mirror, he failed to convince even himself of those lies.
He swallowed thickly, not even his own saliva tasting as it should.
What was happening?