Chapter Text
Percy knew he was in over his head even before a group of men, dressed like they were going to win an ancient Greek costume competition, stepped into the cave.
The group had no self-preservation or situational awareness whatsoever.
It wasn’t just their loud shouts of extasy that echoed across the stone, or the careless way they didn’t even try to scout the parameter, that made Percy sure he was about to watch a tragedy. Not one of them even attempted to look deeper into the dark cave. All of them were way too focused on the grazing flock of sheep right in front of them.
It was obvious they were looking for food, even if they hadn’t screamed their intentions loud enough for the whole Island to hear. Percy breathed deeply and tightened his grip on Riptide. Things were about to get really bad, really fast.
Even if Percy would’ve wanted to warn them of the danger ahead, there was simply no time to do so. The first arrow downed a sheep quite close to the narrow pathway where Percy crouched out of sight. From his viewpoint, he saw the black marking upon the animal’s curly hair. The demigod cursed quietly and looked over his shoulder, deeper into the darkness. Nothing moved yet, but, as the past days had shown him, Cyclops could be damn near silent if they wanted to be.
It was one of the first lessons Percy had learned when he had woken up inside Polyphemus’ cave all alone mere days ago.
With a killer headache and weary limbs, he had shoved himself out of the direct eyeline of the entrance and stayed there for a long time, leaning against a stone wall, while his mind caught up. Percy remembered getting the golden fleece with Annabeth and Clarisse. He remembered how they saved Grover from being married and made for the ship while Tyson distracted his wayward Cyclops-Brother.
Their wayward Cyclops-Brother.
Polyphemus was still a son of Poseidon. And Percy was, once again, glad he wasn’t an offspring of the whole Father-of-Monster-Aspect of his dear old Dad. Nothing against Cyclops in general! Tyson was a sweetheart, but Polyphemus had been a dick. A strong dick that could throw trees and boulders.
Percy remembered pushing the ship into open waters with his powers, while he and Tyson ran across the beach. His brother had jumped and caught the railing, but when he turned around to help Percy up, his one eye had widened in fright.
“Brother!”
“PERCY, WATCH O-“
Darkness had welcomed Percy like a light switch was turned off. He woke up shivering and hurt. Alone.
But not by the beach as he had expected. Instead, Percy had been surrounded by the biggest sheep he had ever encountered. Eerily similar, but far less bitey and ‘let’s eat flesh’-y to the sheep he’d previously seen on the island. They had made no move to eat his flesh, so the demigod was more or less certain they were normal (if enormous) animals…this time.
What had happened to them? Or better yet…what had happened to him?!
In the end, Percy had no clue and he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out on his own, but when Polyphemus came back, his once destroyed eye was no longer milky and unseeing. The red gaze of the Cyclops had been sharp and clever, no wound in sight. A combination that sent a shiver down Percy’s back more than anything.
For the first time since he had discovered that his father was a god and he himself had some of that divinity in his veins, Percy had been truly scared to death.
He was alone, no friends, no backup, no water in his immediate vicinity and inside a cave with the most infamous of all the Cyclops in history, who had miraculously regained his eyesight and lost his treasure hort during Percy’s little nap.
This was way beyond weird. Even for Percy’s warped standards. This was plain wrong.
This was no simple monster or quest, so not even the familiar weight of Riptide in the demigod’s hand could reassure him this time. For he didn’t know what (or who) to fight.
(He wasn’t suicidal enough to face Polyphemus at full power. Even without Annabeth, Percy knew that this would be just plain stupid!)
But he had no idea what to do. So, Percy waited. And watched. And ate some of the fruit from the crates near the sheep, when he could be sure Polyphemus wouldn’t catch him.
That was when he learned just how quiet big monsters could move. It was sheer dump luck that he hadn’t been discovered yet. But as it always did, his luck had run out eventually when the stupid, big group of Idiots entered the cave and killed Polyphemus’ favourite sheep.
Yeah, this group was truly beyond help now.
The final nail in the coffin was the big, bulky man with dark skin, who stated confidently to his companions: “I hate to say this, but you were right, Polites, Odysseus. There are enough sheep here to feed the entire fleet. The lotus eaters pointed us in the right direction.”
Percy’s blood froze.
Odysseus? As in, the King of Ithaca, who first tricked Polyphemus and then continued to go onto the most dangerous and tragic voyage in all of Greek history to reach his home after the trojan war?
As in, the mystic hero whose life was littered by monsters and hard decision, including sacrificing and killing an infant?
As in, the guy who lost all his men to various foes and was an enemy of Poseidon?
And what was even more pressing: Odysseus, as in the man who lived centuries before Percy’s time?!
What the fuck was going on?
But before his thoughts could spiral even more, a man stepped up and let his eyes wander along the stone walls for the first time. He was different from the rest in a way Percy hadn’t expected. Firstly, his happy reaction to the sheep was muted by a sharp and clever look, that swept through the cave searchingly. His body was lean, corded muscles rippled across his arms and his hand never left the pommel of the sword by his side. The man had dark hair (in the dimmed light it seemed nearly as black as Percy’s) and a trimmed beard shadowed his otherwise prominent jawline. The eye colour was hard to see, but it was more than obvious that the guy had a calculated look that the other men missed.
Percy had a hunch just who he was gazing at right now.
If this was truly Odysseus of Ithaca, Percy could understand all the legends and stories about him. The man had the mind and presence of a King, a leader. Someone you could trust to make good calls.
In other words: the complete opposite of Percy himself. Good decision weren’t his forte.
Odysseus acknowledged his friends (?) words by saying: “It is too easy. Why would the lotus eaters pass up on all this free food? Something’s not right… Gather the men, tell them to be quiet. We need to collect as many of the sheep as we can and leave. Be quick.” His dark voice was measured and calm, fitting the order and seriousness of the situation.
The command was not even finished, and the big soldier was already on his way to follow it. Percy understood the spoken words in ancient Greek as well as he would have English. It was disconcerting how easy the switch of languages happened for him. Maybe his demigod-heritage had some more surprises up its sleeve after all.
Beyond the whole control-water and sail-ships stuff anyway. Not that any of those were particular useful right now.
The commotion of the group died down soon and a hush fell over the cave. Tension rose in the still air.
Percy knew it was too late. His instincts screamed that something had moved inside the tunnel behind the flock on the other side of the cave and his (admittedly absolutely horrible) historical knowledge told him the crew would not escape Polyphemus.
He racked his brains over all the details he could remember about this particular encounter of Odysseus. Something about poisoned wine? And Odysseus would tell Polyphemus his name was Nobody.
And that was the scope of his knowledge about this stuff.
Annabeth had tried to use the same trick, but it hadn’t worked out for them. Hopefully Polyphemus was still naive enough to fall for that deception now. It would be proof that Percy truly was back in ancient Greece.
(Or he was simply trapped in an illusion by some wayward god that thought it would be funny. Percy was no betting man, but he wouldn’t put it past Ares to be that kind of annoying.)
Somewhere deep down he knew it wasn’t an illusion though. But there was no way he would give up hope that soon. The implication would be more than frightening. If he really was back-
Percy was overwhelmed by that train of thoughts, and his ADAH brain decided to shove it all down and focus on the present.
The present where the deep, malicious voice of Polyphemus rang though the cave in a malevolent storm: “Who goes there?”
Percy tensed the same way Odysseus did. Everyone turned around and tried to investigate the darkness behind the flock. Too late. The torches the men had brought didn’t reach the back of the cave or the adjected tunnel, where Percy knew Polyphemus dwelled during the night. But the shadows still showed the giant body of the Cyclops as he moved further into the open.
Pery felt his legs tremble, and he crouched deeper into his little alcove. During his involuntary stay, the demigod had learned a few things about his half-brother.
Firstly, he was young by the standards of his race, barely 30, and was seen as a child by the other Cyclops, who lived even further Inland. As such, he was kind of spoiled and granted a lot of leeway when it came to his outbursts.
Secondly, Poseidon had gifted him the flock of sheep after a massive temper tantrum and Polyphemus truly loved the animals. But other than that, he was a brat. Always complaining and begging for something or the other from his siblings.
In addition, he was cruel and bloodthirsty.
When Percy first had woke up and explored the cave while Polyphemus was out with his sheep, he had found vast amounts of broken bones and crushed human skulls. There had been chains and cages at the end of the tunnel. Inside of them, remains of corpses and intestines had been hung up like garlands, rotting and dripping. The stench of blood had hung thick in the air and Percy vomited on the spot.
Although he had only seen the scene dimly, the image burned itself into his retina. The cages had not been there when he was in the cave with his friends. Cold with fear, the demigod had lost all spirit of adventure.
Percy had never stepped another foot back there. He fled to the main cave and hid either between the sheep, the food crates or inside the little alcoves and pathways that led nowhere.
For the first time in his life, Percy was glad for Gabe’s food restrictions during his childhood. His shortness was a blessing for staying hidden. And that was his goal for the immanent future. Stay hidden and alive, get used to the new surroundings and circumstances before making a move. With a foe like Polyphemus, he couldn’t afford being reckless. And Percy, for once, hadn’t planned to be.
Until the group had stumbled inside.
The crew now saw the giant shadow of the Cyclops for themselves. His body burly, thick with muscle and dressed in a loincloth, Polyphemus towered over them all and his head nearly scraped the ceiling. Claw-like fingers with sharp nails, that were jagged and a mouth so big that even the tallest men could’ve been easily swallowed whole. His one eye gleamed red, malicious and vengeful.
There was no escape as Polyphemus moved in front of the entrance. Odysseus, his crew and Percy were trapped by the men-eating monster.
The stone of the cave groaned under the shifting weight of the Cyclops.
The captain clearly saw the lurking danger und positioned himself as a barrier between the monster and his men. He spoke with a confidence: “Hey there! We’re just travellers. We come in peace.”
Percy admired his nerves, but from his hiding place he could see the exact moment Polyphemus spotted his dead sheep. A shiver of dread and fear raced down his spine, as the bloodlust of the monster leaking like a bad stench through the air. It was a completely different presence than what he had encountered with his friends before. Polyphemus seemed raw and powerful in a way that he hadn’t been (wouldn’t be?) in a few centuries.
It was only one of drastic changes that the demigod had also noticed in other aspects of this new place (new, old? – man what a nightmare -). The air was now always kind of shimmering with a translucid film that cracked ominously. Every smell was amplified and full of facets that Percy had not been able to perceive before.
As if he had lived under a blanket that was suddenly thinned and ripped away. The world was sharper, harder and clearer, as if it had gained a flavour previously unknown to the demigod. Maybe it was the stronger presence of the gods in ancient Greece, that made the monsters and everything else stronger with it. Percy didn’t know. He was only certain it effected himself as well.
Even though the ocean was a few miles away, he could feel the movement of mighty waves and hidden currents. The salty smell was always near and if he concentrated, the demigod could practically taste the moisture on the stone inside the cave. Not enough to be useful, but enough to be noticeable. A weird combination.
It was a heady feeling to be so deeply connected to the sea. If Percy was honest with himself, he felt mighty and much more powerful than before. But not enough to fight a Cyclops.
Still, Percy would swap all this strange power back in a heartbeat, if it meant that Polyphemus would be weaker and less clever. The demigod had not appreciated how easy his first encounter with the Cyclops had been. No way in hell a band of young demigods could have beaten the kind of foe that Polyphemus was now.
The twelve-year-old wasn’t even sure that the group of trained soldiers that faced him at this moment would manage it. The rage of the Cyclops seemed too great as he screamed: “You killed my sheep! My favourite sheep.”
Every man stumbled back a few steps, but they couldn’t escape the vicious glare of the red eye of the Monster, that stared them down hatefully. “You…”, Polyphemus growled lowly, “You intrude into my home, try to steal my food and kill my sheep.” Contrary to his hateful voice, his hand was unexpectedly gentle as the Cyclops lifted his dead animal and carefully placed it against the wall of the cave. A big tear left his eye, but that was the extent of his grief. Polyphemus jerked around and faced the group with a determined and cruel glint: “Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you rеap? I will make sure you understand that.”
The promise resonated within Percy. His bones were shaking.
In a move so quick that no one had any time to react, the Cyclops swiped his large hand through the crew and threw more than half of them hard against the stonewall. The men groaned, some screamed, and Percy’s new hearing picked up on the snap of broken bones. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his panic. Riptide trembled in his grip.
But Polyphemus wasn’t done.
When Pery looked again, the Cyclops hat snatched one of the still standing men in his hand. It took a few seconds until Percy realised that it was Odysseus himself that was raised high in the air, as the monster continued his hissed tirade.
“Some time has passed since the last men came upon my Island. I have been craving the crunchy taste of human flesh! You spilled first blood in my home. Now your blood and life belong to me. I will feast on you and your men for weeks and eat my fill. A trade, you see? I take from you like you took from me.” There was a dark promise in his words like before. Intent.
A powerful thing.
Percy was once again frozen by fear as the Monster opened his maw in an attempt to swallow the captain. Should he do something? Odysseus wasn’t supposed to die! He had so much more to achieve (or suffer through, his tale wasn’t a happy one).
Even if Percys historical knowledge was atrocious, he knew that the man would return to his son and wife eventually. His journey would be gruesome, but it had a happy ending, right? Or had his presence disrupted something? Wasn’t time traveling (IF that was what had happened, judgment was still pending, to save his sanity) supposed to be really bad with horrible consequences?
Should he wait it out or do something? But what could he even do?
Get it together, Percy! You’re a demigod! The son of Poseidon! You killed the minotaur, travelled through the underworld and drew first blood against the God of War! You sailed across the sea of monsters and faced Polyphemus once before! So what if he has better eyesight now? You’re intimidated by some creepy feeling? Well, buckle up Buttercup. Enough sitting around! There is someone you need to save.
Percy felt a weird tickle inside his chest and started to move, his limbs no longer heavy or shaky. Riptide was perfectly calm in his hand.
Polyphemus’ arm was already too high for him to reach, but his legs were unprotected, and if he let go of his catch, the fall shouldn’t harm Odysseus gravely. The demigod hoped that his surprise attack would give the men the advantage for a few seconds. Maybe with enough force, they could overwhelm the Cyclops together.
That was, if they didn’t think he was an enemy.
Well, no time like the present to find out.
Just as Percy got ready to sprint, Odysseus’ voice carried above the cries of his crew. “There's been a misunderstanding. We never came here to steal! We thought there was no one around to care for the sheep. But now that I see we've done some damage, maybe we could make a deal?”, his voice was surprisingly steady in the face of a gruesome death.
Percy stopped his movement just in time to stay hidden, but his scruffy shoes still kicked two pebbles into the main room. The noise was drowned in Odysseus' words, but one of his comrades saw the stones and turned slightly in his direction. It was the other man that was first with the captain. Poli—something? Percy wasn’t sure. Their eyes met.
Polyphemus stopped and listened to Odysseus plea. Encouraged by the opportunity, the king of Ithaca spoke quickly: “In exchange for our lives, we will give you our greatest treasure! We have the best wine in all of Greece with us. You can have it!” The King carefully lifted his arms and took a water skin from his back. He looked down to his men and nodded sharply. The big, burly one seemed to get his captain’s meaning and reached for his own wine. The Cyclops watched silently but made no more effort to eat the human King.
Meanwhile, Percy met Poli-something’s gaze steadfast and held a finger in front of his lips in the universal gesture for: Be quiet. The man’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, but then he nodded, barely visible. Instead of looking back to his captain, the soldier moved slowly across the cave and turned his back in front of Percy, as if to shield him from Polyphemus. Even though his sight was now blocked, the demigod was touched by the gesture, as useless as it would be.
He wouldn’t stand around any longer and do nothing.
During their brief interaction, Odysseus had opened his wine and let it run slowly into Polyphemus' mouth. The Cyclops was distracted and couldn’t see the rest of the crew, who poured a yellowish powder into their water skins.
“Have a drink. After you tasted this fine wine, you will no longer hunger for human flesh, I am sure.”, the King spoke persuasively and with a little smile on his face. Percy knew that expression. It was the same one Annabeth had when her tactic worked out. The powder was surely poison. Hopefully it would work fast enough and the monster would drink it quickly.
Odysseus continued to distract the Cyclops: “We will leave you and your sheep alone, give you all of the wine and then be on our way. There is no need for this to be a bloodshed. A trade, as you said. A gift from you and a gift from me.”
Polyphemus hummed after the last drop had met his tongue. The monster seemed to think about the words, and he slowly lowered Odysseus down to the earth. The rest of his men threw their own wine supplies to their captain. Odysseus presented them all to Polyphemus with a titled head. One after the other was downed into the maw of their captor. After the last one was emptied, the humans seemed to relax a little.
There was something foreboding as Polyphemus licked his wine-stained lips. He purred: “That was delicious. I would like to thank you, Stranger. May I ask for your name?”
Percy twitched. This was it.
Please say Nobody. Please say Nobody.
The man’s profile was turned towards Percy and the demigod could see from the best perspective how Odysseus' dark eyes seemed to glow silver for a moment. They shone across the darkness and Percy felt an otherworldly presence sweep through the cave. It was too quick to place the feeling, but Odysseus’ smile grew confident.
With an exuberant gesture he said: „My name is Nobody. I am Nobody.”
Relief. Sheer relief crashed over Percy.
He regretted it moments later.
“Well, Nobody, thank you for your gift. I have one in return.”, Polyphemus smiled wickedly
“I am so glad we can see eye to eye!”
It was obvious the King was sure he had gotten his crew out of danger.
Percy didn’t think the Cyclops meant it like Odysseus. He knew there would be a fight soon and readied his stance and sword. He would not freeze again.
The monster straightened up and pointed at Odysseus with a sharp claw, grinning: “Yes, you shall be the final man to die.”