Chapter Text
“...Lord Hermes Trismegistus?” The Greek narrowed his eyes, brown glinting in the reflection of the other’s, bewilderment lacing the words with a grim glance.
His hand flew to his side, gripping a sword that was not there. Why was it not there?
A sword he wished he never had .
No, he would
have
it until the day he no longer had to protect his beloved.
Polites proved his need for it
. Odysseus turned his attention to the rather panicked God floating in the air above him.
Said god broke into cackling, running his fingers through the roots of his hair, blonde strands falling through the grasp of the messenger. “Why hello, new friend!” His voice projected throughout the seemingly empty room that surrounded them, as his eyes darted through the area..
Where was he ?
He.. did not recall a summon from his father. He was rather prompt with those, after all, He did not wish for the wrath of the thunderbringer. He has seen enough of that from afar.
Now who was this little mortal?
“New..?” Odysseus repeated the word as if it were foreign on his tongue.. Now what was this about? He.. he has met Hermes before.
Ah.
A trick.
A game.
That.. that made sense, he supposes.. That is what the god is in the first place, a god of trickery. He heard warnings of the playful messenger, mainly from his
former
patroness.
But from what he has seen, Hermes was an ally.
A dangerous ally, but an ally nonetheless.
Sometimes he wondered if he gained assistance through pity — though he would not be against such, pity is a powerful tool.
A tool his pride used to render without use.
“Who exactly are you, little mortal?” Hermes questioned, voice a silken tease that moved through the air. His head tilted unnaturally, the bones of his neck cracking as if dry twigs, a sound that caused the mortal to still.
His wide eyes locked onto the disturbed mortal, a grotesque grin stretching across his face, revealing teeth that gleamed with interest. “It truly is not every day that a mortal manages to stand in front of me,” he informed, bringing a finger to tap the button of Odysseus’ nose.
Odysseus’ eyes widened as he stood, his voice starting with a stutter, “A-Ah.. I.. I am Odysseus.. Of Ithaca..”
He wasn’t sure if he should trust the messenger, not now.
Not when those eyes looked upon him as if he were a piece of meat that he left unstolen prior.
Have you not learned your lesson about granting your name?
His hand moved to rest where his heart would be, a bow crashing his form forward. Hermes never did anything to garner his distrust, if anything he did the opposite.
He assisted him more than once. Possibly out of an interest for his suffering, but the Greek would not complain about that.
It truly is not as if he has much of an option than to trust that the god would refrain from ending his life. Options? He had no chance to run away from the messenger, nor could he defeat a god, Poseidon aside. He had nothing to lose besides his life.
What value did that hold now?
“...... Odysseus of Ithaca ?” Now it was the god’s turn to repeat as if an imbecile.
He.. truly was not as unobservant as his siblings assumed he was.
And even if he was, he would have to be completely deaf in both ears to not hear of this entertaining mortal that his sister found herself fond of.
He was now rather convinced that his sister was not the culprit behind this little kidnapping that he had found himself the victim of.
After all, there was no chance that his sister had chosen to hand over her prized mortal to him without any argument.
No. That was not who his stubborn and bull-headed sister was.
Odysseus nodded despite himself, taking the surroundings in, he was always told that he was intelligent — mainly by Diomedes — But he truly was baffled.
The trickster god truly seemed to be bewildered by his presence, and that concerned him more than it should rightfully offend him.
The room that he found himself inside had layers of seats along with.. Fabricated bedding set upon stools?
Klinē as well, which he found more pleasant than the other furniture. Huh is that a pillo — That is a person .
A person.
A body.
Hermes’ eyes darted down to stare at the now- moving body that remained on the ground, his mouth opening as if to say something, only to shut at the feminine groan that released as the rather tall woman raised her head.
Athena.
The god’s thoughts promptly supplied as he watched his older sister rise from the ground with a glare directed towards him.
Sweat laced the back of his neck as he stood, “Hahahaha! Why hello, Dawling! Are.. you alright?” He blinked, offering a hand to the rather exasperated goddess who took it with an almost alarmed expression plastered upon her skin.
“.. Brother.. Where.. Are we exactly..?” The woman’s voice quivered with a hint of fear laced upon it, she.. She truly did not know anything and that was more unsettling than any mysterious assignment her father could have thrown at her.
Zeus.. tended to not summon her like he did Hermes or Apollo.
And when he did, she had at least a two-hour notice at the very least.
And while she found her father’s wants irritating at times, it was infinitely easier to handle than waking up—when did she lose consciousness?—in a place she had never seen in her lifetime.
The messenger frowned, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as his eyes darted to the side, his hopes of his older sister knowing what was happening were rather shortlived.. Which.. Was just great.
“I.. was hoping that you would know that, Dawling..” He drew out into a mumble, bringing a hand to pinch at the back of his neck—it was a habit that he shared with Hephestaus, ironically—and offering a nervous smile to the goddess of wisdom in front of him.
"
Athena
," Odysseus lowered his voice, loathing filling his lungs with the word. "
Athena
..
Did you do this
?" He broke off in a wave of trembling, sending a glare that he did not even know he was able to make.
Poseidon would disagree
. He didn't even know why he was asking her
now
, she never answered any of his sobs.
His begging for her to end his life.
To free him.
" Lady ," he repeated, anger and pain flowing into his voice with each breath that he forced to occur.
The woman’s attention turned to the mortal, who was.. Glaring at her like one would trash thrown onto a street.
What was wrong with her mortal?
“Little king?” Athena promptly moved to bend down to the mortal’s height, her eyes morphing with concern.
Hermes did not like that. That was not a good look on her, he decided.
She.. didn't understand.. Oh Styx.. She brought her focus back to the trembling mortal that somehow managed to become even smaller than he already was. Her hand slowly moved to rest in Odysseus’ hair, digging her nails into the scalp as if claiming the man as her own. He was, she supplied.
…
Where is her presence ?
Hermes pressed the side of his foot against another body? “..Dawling sister of mine.. I- I do not believe we are alone..” He moves behind his.. Well, taller sibling, glaring daggers at the quivering body of a woman—and a smaller human in her arms.
Now, he had no distaste for mortals, no, if anything he found them endearing and entertaining.
The only issue was, that when he found pleasure in their reactions, he was in control of the situation. At least somewhat. The woman raised her head, her hair shaded in as if coal as blue irises glanced around.. And locked on her husband.
Penelope
…
PenelopePenlopePeneleopePenelopePenlopePeneleopePenelopePenlopePeneleopePenelopePenlopePeneleope—
It could be a spell. But to Odysseus, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered more than his Penelope . He fell to his knees, feeling the shake of the ground beneath him, ignoring the pain of his bare knees crashing upon the surface, and wrapped his arms around his wife. He swore he was forgetting something ... Tears slid from his eyes, a peal of sick laughter falling from his throat.. Was it truly this simple? Was all he had to do was torture a fucking god? He opened his mouth to speak—oh. He was forgetting to breathe.. “ Penelope ,” his voice cracked, the word felt like a prayer from his lips.
“Who..?” The woman’s eyes widened, pushing her feet against the ground rapidly as she moved to get away from the man holding her, panic rushing through her expression for a moment.
Who was this? Another suiter ?
Her eyes drew to his knee. That scar.. Oh ..
“... Odysseus..?” Penelope quivered, her eyes softening at the sight of her beloved. Oh, how could she ever doubt her darling husband? He- He recognized her immediately.
She turned to Telemachus, the boy was still asleep. What has happened to them? “.. I- My heart..” She whispered, setting a hand to cup at Odysseus’ cheek.. Oh, how she would do anything for this man.
“.. Penelope.. My darling Penelope ..” He leaned into the hand, oh how that disgusting goddess attempted to mimic his beloved. She never got all these beautiful callouses correct. Her work at the loom had struck her hands to be rougher than a housewife’s—He noted that Helen’s palms were softer and her nails were longer—as well as that ring that rested on his wife’s left hand.
“My beloved, do you know where we a—...” Odysseus froze, his grip tightening on his wife’s shoulders, pulling her behind him.. Who was that?
…
A man with brown hair.
Could.. could that be one of the ‘Men’ who believed he was long dead? Palace covered in red , he recalled, sending Penelope an alarmed glance—Who simply stared at him as if he were an imbecile. Which, he might as fucking well be, because who exactly is this grown man?
“ Father ?”
Ex-fucking-cuse me?
“..Telemachus..?” he sent him a hesitant look, biting his lip threw as if he were attempting to rip it off with his teeth and feed it to the ravens that roamed their palace. He matched the image of his sister’s face— oh god he couldn't remember it —to the man’s. Oh how much he grew up.. He looked so much like Ctimene that it pained him.. His little owl. The two were his home .
Telemachus stared down at his father, his eyes softening in sadness.. The figure that was more unreachable than the gods themselves—Only traces of his presence that he will never escape, while never setting foot within his life. Someone so that he felt obligated to love, to adore, while being no different than the men that hounded his home. He imagined this moment so many damn times. No words could describe how it felt.. But there were three that came close .
Despair.
Disappointment .
Longing .
Odysseus wrapped his arms around the hesitant boy, throwing them both to the ground with a light crack of his son’s back, now, he never was a gentle person, but with how he cradled Telemachus, you would think that the boy was made of frail porcelain that would shatter at the slightest touch that was even the slightest too sudden.
And it was strange , Hermes noted, nothing like what his family would do. No. Not even when Aphrodite was injured was she treated with such care by her family. But the god held his tongue, keeping his gaze upon his rather confused sister, and glancing around as he noticed more bodies around them. Quite a bit.
A couple divine as well.
“... You are so strong, little bird..” he whispered, moving his fingers to card through his son’s hair, adoration filling his eyes, it was all worth the pain; the agony. What he has become was necessary. For his beloved son and wife. His motivation for living.
Because nothing else matters
. Penelope looked upon him with unbridled love that would burn longer than any eternal kilm that the very gods could sculpt, stroking her estranged’s hand with a gentle thumb.
Like she was calming a horse, one could say, and Odysseus would if he did not fear his wife more than he feared anything a god could do to him.
Hermes broke the silence with a cough, “Ahem. Er.. Ody! Are.. these friends of yours here?” He pointed his index finger at a man on the ground.. His skin mimicked browned butter that hadn't been stirred properly with specks of a lighter tan sparked along his cheeks as if they were freckles.
His hair, Hermes would say, was atrocious. His way of dressing too. Personally, he believes it should be blasphemy to wear something so hideous. Aphrodite would agree with him wholeheartedly.
“... Eurylochus ?” Odysseus whispered, as if afraid to confirm his suspicion. How.. How was he alive?
No, it should be impossible.
His brother should be dead.
His blood stained his hands.
Zeus’ thunderbolt shot down and—And—his thoughts cut off as he stared at the limp bodies of his two friends.
Eurylochus sat up from his stupor and looked as confused as he was, but his face was laced with a questioning smile, as if genuinely concerned for not his safety, but his captain’s.
“..Yes? Captain.. Do you know where we are, by chance?” He tilted his head as he spoke, awaiting a hand that never came to help him up.
Well, that’s.. Strange. The man noted, that his captain never refused a chance to be relied upon—something that he’d learn to love and despise with a burning passion.
… That expression sent concern riling into his stomach. Two emotions were visible. Plain and simple.
Fear . And Bafflement . Two things he has never seen his captain—His king—show.
It struck concern.
Odysseus was all too focused on the man beside him. Which Eurylochus would not regularly strike as strange, he knew how his captain behaved around their pacifist of a friend. No. What struck him as bewildering was how the Greek looked as if he were about to both throttle and confess his undying love to the two of them in the same second.
“... Captain?” Polites raised his voice, glancing at the alarmed—and frantic if you asked him—man. Now, it was not a rare occurrence when he was ignored by his rather stubborn and hubrious friend, not at all, but what was included his captain’s tears being shed publicly and in the presence of them.
Polites.
The single word echoed through his head at speeds that would be shameful to admit to.
But he truly did not care at this moment.
Arms wrapped around the taller man’s rips, collapsing the two of them into the ground with a crash that echoed throughout the room and awoke a couple.. More agitated bodies from their rather sound slumber.
The taller man in question glanced around, catching his captain in his arms before the poor man managed to tumble them down into the ground and gain a concussion in some unlucky turn of fates. “Sseus?” Polites brought his hand to cup at Odysseus’ cheek with a hint of concern and confusion.
“... Lites.. Lites.. Lites.. Lites. P-Polites—” He spoke through broken breaths, ignoring the looks of concern that earned from his wife and brother. Oh his brother.. How he missed them. How he missed them more than anything in this accursed world.
Now Polites was bewildered. “Hey.. no, no, look at me. Ody. What is wrong? Fíle mou.. Eísai kalá? Párte mia anása..” He recited, running his fingers through the startled man’s hair as if he were calming an old cat.
A cat. Odysseus smiled bitterly. It would be a fitting analogy.
Pushed too far, he claws and pleads.
Pushed to little, he lazes.
But most of all, he sees himself as a god of his own fruition.
“... My apologies, Polites..” His voice seemed forced through his lungs. He despised the sound . His grip eased with a hint of hesitation burning into his fingertips “I.. do not know what happened to me. I was so worried about you. You seemed too frail, unconscious without anything covering you.” The lie fell from his lips with ease that he would find shameful should it be anyone else.
“I am quite alright, my friend. Thank you.”
“ Ahem.”
“We see you, Lóchos, we simply are not acknowledging you.” Polites deadpanned, glancing at the bigger man, stern, but not unkind. No. He could never be unkind.
“You wound me, Poli—.... Ctimene?” His eyes widened, large arms wrapping around the woman into his chest, enveloping her with ease against the smaller frame. “Timín..” He whispered the nickname as if he were praying to a goddess to whom he owed his life. No, she was more important than that.
Eyes that looked too much like her brother’s widened, “Husband.” Her voice cracked upon the word leaving her lips.. If her husband was there, then—then her older brother had to be—
“...Sister.” was the hum that left the older brother’s lips.. He wasn't unhappy to see her, no, he would be rather glad. That is if he had proof that any of this was even happening.
“..... Oh gods… Please tell me I am not asleep”
“If your dreams are this nice, I envy you.”
A horrid screeching filled the air that struck the two useful and awake gods into a rather irritated growl. “Turn that off, oh my—” Hermes whined, bringing his hands to cover at his ears with a pout, his eyes widening as he watched his uncle stand up from the ground, as well as three more mortals.
. . .
And Circe, but she’s unimportant.
One of the mortals stood up, covering his ears, “Captain!” His voice raised, running over to Odysseus in a state of panic, what was happening? They had only left Troy moments ago. Perimedes moved to his king’s side, eyes darting down to his somewhat awake lover, who remained on the ground for a few more moments.
“... Perimedes.. Calm down.. We are safe, I assure you.” A hand found itself nestled in the man’s hair—A hand that would be chewed off if Elpenor saw it—and scrapped against the scalp of the younger.
(How are we supposed to trust you now?)
Odysseus glanced at the final body on the floor with a hint of concern..
Diomedes
[ODYSSEUS]
Alright, my brothers, listen closely
Tonight we make the Trojans pay