Chapter Text
The rain poured down upon the boat, creating sparks as they landed onto the God King’s shoulders. Said god watched his daughter’s former student turn towards his comrades with a somber look on his face.
The crew member responsible for the slaying of the sun god’s cows, his giant sword still dripping with golden ichor—Eurylochus—stepped forward.
“Captain?”
Without looking up, his brother-in-law replied. His tone was numb and barely audible, as if he was in a trance. “I have to see her…”
The second-in-command collapsed onto his knees in front of his king and grabbed his chiton with desperation in his eyes, as if begging for mercy. He can’t die; not now.
Eurylochus remembered the day he had left for war. He remembered both him and Odysseus, side-by-side as they always had been since even before the latter’s coronation, gazing longingly at their respective wives.
Ctimene’s voice—one he had cherished since the day his ears were graced with its sweet melody—rang clear across the distance between her and the ship. “I’ll be here, waiting, Eury." Then, to her brother, "Bring him back to me. Please."
The captain scoffed at his sister’s remark. “You know me.” He smiled, waving a hand towards his crew to signal their departure. Calling out declaratively, “I won’t let any one of my comrades fall. And once we win this war, they will make it back to their homeland, all six hundred of them.”
“But we’ll die.”
Finally, the ragged warrior turned his head up to the mighty Thunder Bringer, looking back with a dejected smile. Even though the sun peeked behind the clouds blindingly, there was no light in his eyes. “I know…”
Upon hearing this, the King of Ithaca’s once-loyal comrades cried out in rage and hatred. They raised their weapons, shouting in fury and charging at their leader.
“We have families back home too, you bastard!”
“We fought by your side for ten years!”
“MONSTER!”
Only one person stood in silence, drawing his own weapon to knock his crew away. Eurylochus.
Deep down, he had known it would’ve ended this way. And maybe he deserved it, after he doomed his crew by opening the windbag out of distrust of his closest brother, and of course…those cows.
He was so hungry, so tired. He just wanted to rest now; to have the weight of…well, everything, lifted from his shoulders.
Eurylochus formed a weak and somber smile and looked his captain in his eyes.
“Tell Ctimene I’m sorry for me, okay?”
Tears formed in the latter’s eyes and he wrapped his arms around his brother. “...I will, Eury. I promise.”
As the air around them grew brighter with Zeus’s Thunderbolt, Eurylochus pulled away and shoved his dear friend away from the flash. “Now go, Ody! Bring your love back to Penelope and Telemachus…bring it back for all of us who can’t. Go!”
The world around Odysseus turned white with lightning, but he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he watched as his friends, who had been through high and low; victory and defeat; gains and losses with him get reduced into but dark ashes as the flames of their once-blazing spirit flickered out.
I won’t let your deaths be in vain, my brothers. This, I swear upon the Styx.
~~~
Odysseus was drowning.
How he had fallen into the water to begin with, he did not know. It wasn’t Poseidon—no, his heart did not fill with a sense of dread like it had during their confrontation. But what he did know was that he was going to die either way if he did not move quickly—he didn’t have much time before his breath ran out.
As the captain began thrashing for the surface, a sharp, searing pain shot through his chest. The wound from Perimedes’ blade had been torn open once again, causing wine-red blood to spill into the waves of indigo. Odysseus grimaced at the pain, and water rushed into his lungs. His cloak wasn’t helping, either; it dragged him even deeper into the surf.
The king grit his teeth and ignored both the pain and colors now swarming his vision, and swam for his life. Fortunately, his struggle paid off and he burst through the surface in the nick of time.
Blood was still pouring out of his guts mercilessly—he needed to get to land. Odysseus looked around, and he could see an island in the distance.
Ithaca?
Without thinking, he began paddling furiously with newfound hope. He was almost home. Just a little bit more—
Odysseus’s vision blurred as he crawled onto the shores, collapsing on the silky sand, his blood staining the sediments.
The last thing he remembered was a tall, slender woman hurrying over, wearing flowers pinned to her braided chestnut hair and an elegant pink robe.
~~~
When he opened his eyes once again, he wasn't by the shoreline of the isle anymore. Instead, Odysseus was lying on a bed in the middle of a…palace?
Yes, a palace. And all around the room were arrays of plants, spices, and the like, as well as a large pot in the corner. Vines wrapped around pillars in a spiral, and there was a tree growing over his head. It almost reminded him of his wedding bed…but something was off. There is an entrance to the left of where he lay, leading out to a grand throneroom, also covered in thin vines that sprouted round little leaves. And something about it seemed…familiar, though he couldn’t quite place where he had seen it…
The king of Ithaca sat up, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and panic—had somebody captured him? And if so, for what purpose?—and reflexively braced himself for the inevitable pain that would follow. But to his further bewilderment, his body didn’t feel like the pits of Tartarus.
He looked down, and there was no blood on his bandage. Speaking of which, that had been changed, too, and if he observed closely enough he could see bits of yellow light glowing from the fabric.
“Wha–who—?”
A soft treading came from the halls, and Odysseus heard something flutter behind him. Then, voices—one of a young man that sounded about twenty years of age or so, and an older woman.
“He’s been resting for a while…”
“Yes. I supposed I will go check on him.”
"Great. I'll see myself out then. I've got some messages to deliver."
Suddenly, everything fell into place for the former Warrior of the Mind.
The palace. The vegetation. The traces of magic radiating from the bandage. Those voices…ones he had heard before, from the last time he was stranded here…
This was none other than the home of—
“Circe—!?”
~~~