#but Ctimene will always be waiting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

matchabirb · 4 months ago

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"Captain! Captain!!"

The crew needed their captain. He needed to get home.

Note: It's been a few weeks (I think??) since I posted the brainrot about Ody's trauma! As promised, here's the fic about it. The original plan was for it to be put in parts but I decided to just put it all as a single oneshot!

Total word count: 13.3k words

TW: Slightly graphic descriptions, blood, vomit, panic attacks, cursing, slight religious themes(?), spoilers for EPIC: The Musical Sagas, contains references to the actual Odyssey, themes of PTSD and Trauma. Viewer discretion HIGHLY advised.

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“Captain!” A voice called out from behind. Odysseus turned around to see his men boarding the ships they’ll be taking to Troy. A simple gesture of a head was all Odysseus needed to understand what the soldier was trying to tell him, “hurry it up please.” He gave a nod and turned back to his wife and son, who was just barely a few months old.

He mustered up a somber smile and leaned in to give one final kiss to Penelope’s lips, but she moved her head to the side, avoiding the kiss with a sly smile. “When you get home,” she said, a teasing yet loving glint in those eyes that Odysseus always loved. He chuckled and nodded, playfully pouting as he was denied a kiss from his beloved. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Telemachus’s forehead, and he prayed to the gods above that this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be able to do this.

“It won’t be the last,” Athena reassured him, her voice echoing through his mind. Odysseus believed his friend wholeheartedly. Together, they’ll lead everyone and win this war.

He walked over to his younger sister, Ctimene, and his mother, who had just finished sending off Ctimene’s husband. Anticlea, his mother, had a sad smile on her face with tears in her eyes as she opened her arms for a hug. Odysseus didn’t hesitate. He went into his mother’s arms, embracing her tenderly as he did his best to comfort her crying. He felt Ctimene join the hug as well and the three stayed like that together for a while. He felt his mother’s hands gently patting down his messy hair, like she always did before. “When you come home, I’ll be waiting,” the woman promised her son, the same words her daughter told her husband. Odysseus smiled and looked at his mother in earnest, “I promise. I won’t take long.”

He heard quick approaching footsteps and turned to see his father, Laertes, followed by Eumaeus, a servant that was raised alongside him and his sister as equals. Odysseus gave a smile to the man who was like his brother, “Take care of the family, will you?” He told the swineherd, who smiled back despite the worry and concern evidently displayed on his face. The two men shared a silent promise together; one will keep everyone safe in Ithaca, and the other will come back as soon as possible.

Odysseus then turned to Laertes, who patted him firmly on the shoulder, “Don’t venture too far, Ody. We both know your mother gets a heart attack when you do.” The older man smiled at his son, the same way he always did when Odysseus would leave to go hunting; the smile that conveyed all sorts of pride and love Laertes held for his children. “I promise,” Odysseus said for the second time as he gave his father a hug, both men pulling Eumaeus in not even a moment after.

With that, he turned around and headed to the docks, boarding the ship and making sure everything was in order. As he gave the command to start leaving, Odysseus can’t help but rush back to watch the shrinking form of his wife and the island. It hasn’t been an hour and he already missed home, missed Penelope, missed Telemachus, missed his mom, his dad, his family.

“I’ll see you soon, everyone,” Odysseus murmured under his breath; another promise to reunite with everyone when the war was over.

“Ody!” A familiar, lighthearted voice called out from behind, and Odysseus felt an arm wrap around his shoulders. He turned his head and saw Polites, his dearest friend, one he’s known since childhood. Next to Polites stood Eurylochus, Odysseus’s right hand man and brother-in-law, a friend just as valuable. After he saw the bright smile on Polites’s face and the strong expression on Eurylochus’s, the homesickness felt alleviated, even for just a few moments.

At that moment, Odysseus made a promise to himself. He won’t lose anyone. Not Polites, not Eurylochus, not a single person in his crew. It’s his duty as king, as captain, to get them all home alive.

______________________________

“Captain!” A familiar and firm voice called out from behind. Eurylochus, Odysseus’s right-hand-man, approached, a small frown on his face. “Captain, we’ve run out of supplies to eat,” Eurylochus informed, looking at the crewmates who silently complained amongst themselves while rowing the boat. “We have all the reasons to take what we can. So captain, what’s the plan?” He asked, fully confident that the crafty Odysseus would think of something.

And think of something, Odysseus did. “Watch where the birds fly, they will lead us to land,” he said, pointing up to a flock of birds that flew above them. “There we’ll hunt for food, my second-in-command,” He smiled, giving the taller man a playful and light punch by the shoulder. He turned back to his crew, a smile on his face at the thought of getting some food to fill his and his friends’ stomachs. “Now, full speed ahead!” He didn’t even have to tell the crew twice, and all 600 men had the same motivation to get something to fill them as they rowed in unison.

“Captain!” Polites’s bubbly voice entered Odysseus’s ears as soon as he felt the man wrap an arm around him. He smiled and turned to his friend, greeting him with his name as well with a smile on his face. “Look!” Polites pointed out to the distance, a small island near the direction the ships were sailing toward. “There in the distance! I see an island, I see a light that faintly glows,” Polites gave his observations with an excited grin on his face as Eurylochus and Odysseus both followed where he was pointing. “Maybe they’re people, lighting a fire. Maybe they’ll share some food, who knows?”

A whisper of Athena in his ear made Odysseus think twice before getting excited, however, “Something feels off here. I see fire, but there’s no smoke.” Eurylochus, too, was suspicious, and became even more so after his friend’s comments, “I say we strike first.” The right-hand-man suggested, ignoring Polites’s staring at him as if he were crazy, “We don’t have time to waste, so let’s raid the place and-” “No,” Odysseus shook his head, not wanting to risk anything. Just about everyone in the ship was hungry and tired from fighting the ten-year war in Troy. Raiding the island and not knowing just what might be there would be a waste of everyone’s energy.

He turned to Polites, “Polites, gear up. You and I’ll go ahead.” Polites grinned at a chance to spend some time with his childhood friend and immediately headed to strap on some armor and bring his sword with him. He looked to his right-hand, “We should try to find a way no one ends up dead,” he said. Eurylochus would stay behind, keep everyone in line and make sure they were safe. Odysseus trusted Eurylochus to do that and so much more; Eurylochus had always been the rational-minded one, which gave Odysseus both the logic and the reasoning he needed to take note of when making decisions. Even now, Eurylochus had no fear protesting or questioning the king’s plan, “We don’t know what’s ahead.” Odysseus smiled and reassured his friend, “Give me till sunrise, and if we don’t return,” he paused to look at the island in the distance, “Then 600 men can make this whole place burn.”

“Now full speed ahead!”

______________________________

“Captain…” Polites’s weak and strained voice called out to him, a hand reaching out, his eyes begging, pleading, for Odysseus to come save him. Like he’s done so many years ago, like he’s done so many times in the war. Odysseus had never failed Polites, not once, not ever.

So then why did he fail Polites now?

“Enough.” The cyclops’s deep voice rumbled throughout the cave, echoing through every ridge and Odysseus practically felt the vibrations of the voice from under his feet. The cyclops lost his patience, and Polites’s body is hit with a second smash, the sound reaching the depths of Odysseus’s soul and tugging on it harshly.

Odysseus stood there, looking at the battered, still, bleeding form of Polites. His glasses fell to the side, a lens cracked, the man’s bandana stained with blood. Polites’s arm fell limp just as the life left his eyes, his soul soon to be on its way off to Hades. Odysseus can’t see anything, can’t hear anything. How did it come to this? They were winning, weren’t they? He had a plan, he had a plan to make sure they’d make it out of here alive.

Odysseus shook and trembled where he stood. He distantly processed his crewmates and men screaming, “Captain! CAPTAIN!!” just before the cyclops’s club would hit them so abruptly. The sounds of the squelching of bodies and the cracking of bones permeated through the air, piercing through Odysseus’s ears. As if that weren’t enough, splatters of blood fell and hit his skin, as if the Fates wanted to rub his failure in his face. The scent of iron and the sticky deep crimson that stained his cheek and sides clung onto him like a vice, a constant reminder of what he let happen to his comrades.

Every breath he took, the metallic scent penetrated his lungs, his body, his everything. Not even the sight of war could have prepared him for this. Not when the blood stuck to his armor was his friends’, his people. He can’t breathe, he shouldn’t breathe, lest he wanted the fetor of the gore and horror around him to enter his system like poisoned gas. Odysseus flinched the wrong way as he heard another crack! just a few feet away, and bile rose up through his gastric tract. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he stumbled backwards, stomach acid leaving his mouth with a heavy cough and wheeze. He raised his hands to stop the flow of his body fluids leaving his mouth, and he felt his stomach groan in pain from hunger and disgust. A shiver crawled up his spine, he couldn't even hear what the cyclops was saying anymore. He couldn’t hear his comrades' screams anymore. Just a loud, ringing sound in his head as his eyes trained solely on Polites.

Everything else was a blur to him. He can’t hear Athena’s words, the goddess trying to reach him through her Quick Thought, but Odysseus can’t feel it. With the fall and dimming of his light, Odysseus finally realized he was in actual danger. This isn’t something he can finish quickly and with ease. This is a monster, he finally gets in his head. A monster who took the lives of his men, his brothers, his friends. There was no such thing as mercy when dealing with monsters, Athena’s words from before echoed through his mind. Yet with each intake of the putrid smell of blood and guts in the darkness of the cave, Odysseus remembered Polites. He remembered his words, his beliefs, his ideals.

“Just let me be your light!”

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms!”

“Let me be the stars you see at night! Let me be the arms that hold you tight!”

“Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart!”

As the cyclops finally fell victim to the lotus fruits Odysseus snuck into the wine he offered, Odysseus collapsed to the ground along with the monster. The large body of the cyclops covered the entrance of the cave, blocking the main source of light from coming inside. Everything went dark, the only thing illuminating the surroundings being the torches some of the men lit up. But Odysseus didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to have to go through the darkness without his light. Without Polites. Without Penelope. Odysseus wasn’t sure if the darkness and black spots littering his vision was a blessing or a curse from the gods above, from the fates. He couldn’t see a thing, not the bodies, not his crew, not his hands that were stained with blood, sweat, and vomit.

“-tain!” He heard someone call out to him. He doesn’t move.

“-aptain!” He heard someone call out to him again. He still doesn’t move. He doesn’t dare move.

“Captain!!” Eurylochus shook him a few times, snapping Odysseus out of his wallowing and spiraling down to despair. Odysseus remembered again. His duty. His responsibility. He was their captain. He had to lead his men out of this. He was their king, their leader. “Then act like it,” The wisdom goddess urged, speaking into his mind.

Odysseus was their captain. He had to lead them. He had to lead them home.

______________________________

“Captain!” An energetic voice, Perimedes, called out as Odysseus boarded the ship after speaking with the wind god, Aeolus, “What’s happenin’?” Just behind Perimedes followed Elpenor, and both asked in unison, “What’s trapped in that bag?”

Odysseus shook his head, keeping the bag away from their reach. He has to lead them, he has to lead them, he has to lead them, he chanted in his mind as he replied, “Something dangerous friends, we mustn't lag.” “It’s treasure!” Something in the wind whispered into the men’s ears in that moment, and Odysseus tensed up, the weight of what he just got into crashing down on him. “What…”

“Open the bag!” “Let’s see what you got!” Perimedes and Elpenor both seemed excited at the prospect of treasure, both reaching out to the bag Odysseus held tightly in his hands, before Odysseus pulled away just in time, “No do not!!” Odysseus flinched at how tense he became and took a deep breath to calm himself, ignoring the confused and concerned faces of his companions. “Everyone, listen closely. See how this bag is closed?” He raised the closed bag in his hand, making sure no one was in reach of it, “That’s how it’s supposed to be. This bag has the storm inside. We cannot let the treasure rumor fly.” He commanded, not requested, his comrades. This has to be kept under wraps. “We’ll try,” everyone agreed, or so Odysseus hoped.

For nine days straight, he had stayed awake, making sure none of his crewmates would try getting their grubby hands on the bag and open it. Thus far, he was successful in making sure the bag was closed, and that their journey home was to be as smooth-sailing as possible. He could almost hear Penelope’s voice, he could almost see that wonderful face he fell for at first sight, that smile that made his heart soar. He couldn’t wait to meet his son, now. How long has it been since he’s last seen Telemachus? About twelve years now… it’s been far too long. Did Telemachus look like Penelope, or would he have taken after Odysseus more? What did his son like? His favorite food? The games he’d play? What of his mom? Ctimene? Eumaeus? His dad? Argos?

He needed to get home now. And he’d bring the rest of his men back with him, along with the memory of those they’ve lost.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” Polites’s voice echoed in his mind once again, and Odysseus promised to himself that he’ll do so. Lead from the heart, and see what starts. Odysseus swore to himself that he’d emulate Polites in all he did, so that he could at least keep the memory of his best friend alive.

He needed to stay awake, Odysseus shook his head when he caught himself almost dozing off. Keep your eyes open, keep your eyes open, he chanted to himself, along with his mind’s hallucinations of Penelope and what could be Telemachus, motivating him to stay awake. He had to stay awake. He had to get home. They all had to get home. They were so close now. Just a few handful of hours left of sailing and they’d dock in Ithaca, and they’d finally be home. Odysseus could already see his kingdom nearing from the distance, the outline of the palace and island just slightly covered by some fog. The gentle ripples of the waters below them slowly soothing him. Just the thought of finally embracing his family, of taking a break, getting some sleep…

He needed to stay awake, he needed to stay awake, he needed… to… sleep………

“Wake up. Odysseus, they’re opening the bag, WAKE UP!!” The hallucination of Penelope’s voice yanked Odysseus from the realm of Hypnos and suddenly he became hyper-aware of the overpowering winds swirling around his fleet. A few feet away from him, the bag Aeolus gave laid on the ground, winds escaping, faintly laughing carefreely as they did. Odysseus fell to his knees, his hand reaching out as if he could grab onto the retreating form of Ithaca in the distance. “NOOOOOOO!!” He screamed in desperation, his heart clenching in his chest in anguish.

______________________________

“The line between naïveté and hopelessness is almost invisible,” Poseidon’s words echoed across Odysseus’s fleet. If Odysseus thought Polyphemus’s voice was terrifying to hear in a closed space, the god’s voice was even worse, even in the open air. The sound was louder than the raging waves under the ships, but Poseidon kept them all afloat, for better or for worse. “So close your heart, the world is dark,” the god spoke, slowly raising the trident in his hand threateningly. Odysseus tensed up, and immediately prepared to command his men to… to do… something..! But what could they do? They were cornered by the god of the sea, on the sea. There was nowhere they could run, nowhere they could turn to, lest they risked angering the already vengeful god even more.

“And ruthlessness is mercy,” Poseidon suddenly slammed down his trident, the giant three-pronged spear hitting the bottom of the ocean. Fitting to the god’s title, the earth and waves started to shake from the impact, and Odysseus was sure he wasn’t the only one who felt like they were getting pulled in all four directions at once.

“Die.” The finality of the god’s tone spoke a command. A demand, one only a god like Poseidon could make. And the tides would always obey the orders of their lord, creating turbulent waves and crashing against the ships of Odysseus’s fleet. A pack of wolves surrounded by sharks indeed. It became hard to find his footing from the crashing and swinging of the ships, and Odysseus felt his heart stop when he heard a distant call.

“Captain! Captain!!” Men from the other ships screamed and called and shouted as they cried for help, before their ship capsized from the waves. “Captain!! Captain!!” Another group of soldiers shouted, from the other side this time, and Odysseus managed to run over to the side of his ship, if only to watch as another set of about 50 men fell victim to Poseidon’s wrath. “Captain!! Captain!!!” Another ship is covered and drowned under the waves, some sea creatures even jumping out of the water to snag bites out of some sailors who tried to swim away. The salty and would-be refreshing smell and feeling of the ocean slowly became accompanied with the sharp smell of the blood that stained the previously clear waters.

“Captain!!!” More sailors called out, as they drowned and fell to the bottom of the sea, never to be found again. Once again, Odysseus found himself nonrespondent, as he watched all the ships, except for his, submerge under the sea. All the soldiers, about 580 soldiers, called out for Odysseus, for their captain. But what could their captain do? What can they do? What has their captain ever done if not watch as everything went wrong, as everything went terrible.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe again. Not again. He had to do something! Anything! Suddenly, he was back in Polyphemus’s cave, blood curdling screams echoing throughout the crevices of the cavern and in Odysseus’s mind. He had to get out of here. Polites’s dead body laid before him, and his worn out voice called out to him once again, “Captain…” From Polites’s body, to the vomit-inducing cracks and squelches that were emitted whenever the cyclops would slam his club to the ground. Suddenly, Odysseus felt the blood that stuck to his skin and armor, felt the reeking of blood that he had to breathe in, felt his body get stained by the crimson that made his skin crawl and hairs raise, felt the burning feeling when he tried scrubbing every speck of blood and grime off of him and his armor.

They needed their captain then. They needed their captain now. Yet their captain could never do anything but watch. Watch as the fates eagerly reaped the consequences of treachery and foolishness, watch as the Keres came to feast on blood and flesh and bring the souls to Hades, watch as Moros whispered and brought forth the misery that they thought they had escaped. All their so-called captain ever did was watch as beings far beyond the power of a mortal king took lives and mercilessly wrought terror and what they believed to be justice.

Odysseus took a shaky breath, even though everything in his mind screamed at him to succumb to the suffocating waves that never truly reached his ship. He scanned his surroundings, ships broken and fallen apart, washed away by the waves, bodies of his men slowly dropping down the water and floating back up, motionlessly, there were no ships left. None except for his. From twelve ships, only one had recovered the wrath of the sea god. Odysseus trembled where he stood, but all the voices in his mind reminded him to stand tall, to be the captain he is, to be the king he is. And yet…

“What have you done?” was all Odysseus could utter in that moment. The product brought by destruction, brought by the wrath of a god, the wrath of a father whose son was harmed. The used-to-be gentle ripples of the water were nowhere to be found, and replaced instead with the waves only seen in depictions of tragedies and the punishments given by gods. A tragedy. That is what this was. Is that what this would continue to be? Odysseus prays to the gods (yet his faith fails him, and he gets an inkling that no god would even listen to his pleas at this moment) that it would not be so, that this story would at the very least have a happy ending, that the fates would finally have mercy on him and his crew.

“Forty-three left under your command,” Poseidon smirked, as if he enjoyed the destruction and pain and suffering he just brought. He probably did, Odysseus thinks, after all, they had brought this upon themselves. No. Odysseus brought this upon themselves. He was the one who so foolishly let his name fall from his lips as he left. He should have left the cyclops as he was. Maybe then, they would have gotten the chance to get home.

Maybe then, Odysseus could have truly acted as the captain he’s supposed to be. He was no captain. Not to his crewmates, not to himself, not to anyone.

______________________________

“Captain?” A voice carefully called out from behind, and Odysseus had to hide and hold back to urge to flinch. He immediately looked around discreetly, mentally counting the number of soldiers currently on the ship and slowly resting on the shores of the island they found themselves in. One, two, three, four, … forty-two. Forty-three, including Odysseus. They’re supposed to be forty-four. Someone is missing. Eurylochus! His mind ran just as fast as Hermes as he assessed his surroundings, trying to find the threat in the silent island. He snapped out of it when he felt a thick and strong hand rest itself on his shoulder.

He sharply turned around, his hand closing in on his sword out of reflex. Whomever this person was, had to be the reason for Eurylochus’s absence–

Eurylochus stood before him, a worried frown on his face as he rested a hand on Odysseus’s shoulder. “Captain,” the bigger man spoke again, the crease of his brows deepening when he felt the flinch of Odysseus from under his hand. “I have something that I must confess,” he continued, eyeing his friend carefully and with concern. “Something that I must get off my chest,” Eurylochus took a deep breath and looked at his brother-in-law, “Until it is said, I cannot rest.”

When Odysseus gave no reply, only despondently staring out to the distance, Eurylochus frowned and tried to get his attention, albeit reluctantly. “Captain?” Odysseus flinched again, and after a quick survey again to count the forty-three men around him, looked back at Eurylochus, a stoic expression on his face, “Eurylochus, go make sure this island is secure.” The right-hand-man, evidently not willing to prolong his internal suffering and the guilt that ate at him, protested, “But captain-” Odysseus cut him off before he could finish saying that… repulsive title he did not deserve, “There’s only so much left we can endure.” There’s only so much left he can endure at this point.

“Whatever you need to say can wait some more,” Odysseus says, ignoring the downcasted expression on his friend’s countenance. It can wait until they’ve reached home, until Odysseus has gotten some rest, until Odysseus has seen his wife. “Of that I’m sure,” that was a lie. Ever since Polites, when has he ever been sure of anything? Everything’s changed since the light went dark, since the cyclops, since Poseidon.

And Eurylochus could see the grief that marred his dear friend’s face and relented with a hesitant sigh and nod, “Okay.” The right-hand went off to gather some soldiers to come with him to scout and survey the area. With Eurylochus, came along Elpenor, Perimedes, and Georgios. That left Odysseus with about forty or so soldiers to take care of, and what Odysseus hoped to be enough time to reflect and think to himself. He can leave his men for a while to think, right? They were grown men, for gods’ sake, they’ll be fine without him for a few minutes.

Odysseus ended up taking what felt like the best nap of his life against a tree, facing his crew, until he heard the rustling of leaves from behind him, and the frantic pitter-patter of heavy and familiar footsteps. He woke up with a small startle, and stood up instinctively, his heart racing as he prepared for any possible dangers that may befall him and his men. When he turned to check who approached, he saw only Eurylochus running back.

Like a protective (obsessive) shepherd, he counted his crewmates again to check how many people were here and how many weren’t. Three were missing. Eurylochus left with three people, and those same three were missing. Where did they go? What happened? He looked up to the sky to check how much time had passed; it’s only been about a little less or a little more than an hour. “Eurylochus, back so soon? Where’s the rest of your crew?” Odysseus asked as he watched the man run back to him, disheveled with twigs sticking out everywhere and small scratches here and there. The state of his brother-in-law made Odysseus frown in concern, “And by the gods, what happened to you?”

Out of breath, Eurylochus started to explain what had happened, “We came across a palace. Inside, we heard a voice that seemed to show no malice. To greet it was our choice, but nothing could prepare us for the power that awaited inside.” The man said quickly, trying to catch his breath as he tried to process what had happened. One of the crewmates walked over and handed the poor man a recently filled waterskin, to which Eurylochus took big gulps out of. “What did the palace hide?” Odysseus urged, but waited patiently until his friend was finished.

He took a deep breath again and spoke, his voice now full of vigor and the energy the soldier usually had, “Sir! Since we left home, we’ve faced a variety of foes from a wide range of places.” Odysseus raised an eyebrow at the odd start of the introduction of whomever or whatever this threat was. “Gods,” they did not really ‘face’ the gods they’ve encountered and more so just barely survived by the skin of their teeth, Odysseus remarked in his head but didn’t interrupt Eurylochus. “Monsters, you know the roster. Hostile creatures that we could resist,” Again, ‘resist’ is a stretch; they just barely survived. Not all of them survived, and that fact weighed heavily on Odysseus’s mind.

“But this was a hell of a twist! Because we are WEAK to a power like this!” Eurylochus’s words, slightly exaggerated as they may sound, made Odysseus’s hair stand up, and he tensed up in worry. “What was it?” He asked, worried for what became the fate of the three people that didn’t go back with Eurylochus. The answer to his question wasn’t one he expected, nor anywhere at the list of the possible creatures that may have resided in an island like this.

“A woman.”

What.

“What?” Odysseus squinted his eyes in confusion. He saw a few other crewmates look over at the mention of a woman and the king had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes at them. Twelve years without their wives or lovers truly took an evident toll on most of them, it seemed. Even so, he can’t help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at the slightly anticlimactic answer, despite the buildup of this woman. Was Eurylochus simply jesting…?

Eurylochus was obviously very serious about his words, no matter how outlandish they may be. “She had us in just two words,” He spoke, and everyone listening, Odysseus included, leaned in a bit closer to urge him to continue (albeit all of them had different reasons for their curiosity). “Come inside,” a few of the sailors listening in bursted out laughing, causing some others to look over in confusion. Even Odysseus himself couldn’t hold back the snort that came out of him at the double entendre, “Damn”. For very obvious reasons, he didn’t find it very far-fetched that this woman, whoever she was, had some of his men wrapped around her finger with such words.

Eurylochus huffed out a small laugh, but continued anyway, “She welcomed us and told us to rest where we wished. She called herself, Circe. Only I stayed outside, but the other three went in. I watched them from a window, and she offered them some food. A couple nymphs went in with all sorts of dishes, more than enough for a feast’s worth.” Odysseus nodded slowly, waiting for the moment things truly got bad. Three of his men were missing doing who knows what because of who knows who, and Odysseus was not ready to lose any more of his friends because of his inattentiveness. “Yet by the time they ate, it was far too late,” were the words that made Odysseus perk up in alert. What happened? Was the food poisoned? Were they sick? Dead? Before he had the chance to ask, though, Eurylochus continued, “For inside the meal, she had cast a spell.”

A spell? So this Circe woman was a witch, then? Odysseus had heard of witches and sorceresses from his father, Laertes, who had joined Jason on his adventures. From what Odysseus knew, witches and sorceresses were fickle women. Though the sorceress that his father experiences with the sorceress he knew (Medea, if he recalled the name correctly) was actually rather nice. From what Odysseus was hearing about Circe, he doesn’t think he’d share the same experience as his father.

“They began to squeal! And grow snouts and tails,” Eurylochus described, using his hands to convey the change he saw. “She changed them!” He exclaimed, distress evident in his tone and expression. That same distress spread to everyone else, including Odysseus himself. “They transformed, and it wasn’t quick. She turned our men from men to pigs!”

Silence spread through the air as everyone processed the information Eurylochus had told them, and finally, Odysseus spoke up, his mind having been made up since the beginning. “We have to go save them.” He stood up from his position sitting on a rock nearby from when Eurylochus started telling the little “story”. He got ready to move out, when his right-hand-man suddenly held onto his arm to stop him, “No, we don’t!”

Odysseus, and a few of the men listening in, looked at Eurylochus like he was crazy. And, to them, Eurylochus did sound crazy. Was he just telling them to abandon the others? Just like that? Looking at the mortified and confused stares from the others, Eurylochus gestured at everyone, “Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned. Every single cost is so much more than what we’ve earned.” He stepped closer to Odysseus, a genuinely worried expression on his face as he held the king by the shoulders, “Think about the men we have left before there’s none. Let’s just cut our losses, you all and I, and let’s run.”

Odysseus furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gently taking off Eurylochus’s hands from his shoulders, “Of course I’d like to leave now, of course I’d like to run. But I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we’ve done,” he said slowly, his expression darkening as he remembered the screams, the cries, the cracks, the faces of horror, fear, and hopelessness on each of his men’s faces as they died, while they all called for him, for his help, for his plan. He looked at Eurylochus resolutely, staying by his decision, “There’s no length I wouldn’t go, if it was you I had to save.” He turned to the listening crew members, a small smile on his face, “I can only hope you’d do the same.”

These forty-three men, more important to Odysseus than his life itself, are the ones he had to keep safe. If need be, he’d gladly give up his life for them. He’s their captain, after all; what sort of captain is the last one alive of his own crew? What sort of captain would prioritize himself over his friends?

He will make sure they get home, all forty-four of them.

______________________________

“Captain!” A voice, no, multiple voices called out. Odysseus couldn’t hide his flinch when he heard those calls the moment he and his single ship entered the Underworld. The sound of chains clinking, of shades wailing and moaning in despair, penetrated the air, creating an almost grating sound to Odysseus’s ears. The atmosphere didn’t help at all with his fear, with his anxiety that something would go wrong. “Captain!” The voices called out again, and Odysseus turned to look at his men, to see who called for him. He went through a quick mental checklist of everyone there, all forty-three of them, including Odysseus, were there and present. No one seemed to have been calling him, and most of them were looking upwards for some reason.

“Captain!!” More people called out, and Odysseus’s heart stopped for a few moments when he followed the gaze upwards. The shades of the men that died from his crew reached down at them, as though threatening to pull them to their side of the living. “Captain!! Captain!! Captain!!” The shades called out to him– no, they chanted out to him. As if the fates knew he wanted nothing to do with that damned title, and wished to play a “funny game” with him. It wasn’t funny. Not at all.

Not when flashes of death, screaming, and agony flashed through Odysseus’s mind with every cry for ‘Captain’. Not when Odysseus could feel the bile coming back up his throat from his stomach at just the sound of the word alone. Not when Odysseus saw his hands stained red once again, stained with the blood of too many people that should not have died. Not when Odysseus felt the weight of what felt like his whole world fall onto his shoulders, a burden heavier than Atlas’s, a burden Odysseus was no longer sure he even wanted to carry anymore. Not when each syllable of the word made Odysseus feel as though he were back in Polyphemus’s cave, back on the sea confronted by Poseidon, back on Circe’s island, on the brink of losing three friends, and then having lost one.

“558 men who died under your command!” All five hundred and fifty-eight men shouted at him, calling out for him over and over and over again. At this point, Odysseus found it too hard to breathe, to see clearly, to even hear the words properly. His hands shook at his sides and he felt the odd urge to scratch at his skin again. The feeling of the sticky blood never quite washed off, no matter how hard and rough Odysseus would scrub and scratch at his skin, until there were scratches and red marks on his skin, the numb feeling of slight burning at the strain on his body.

“How could you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy-” Odysseus snapped out of his trance when he felt a small tug at his chiton, and he immediately looked down to see Perimedes, still dutifully rowing the boat, looking up at him with a concerned frown. “Are you okay?” he mouthed quietly, checking in on the king, who took a deep breath and summoned as much courage he could find to nod his head. Odysseus gave Perimedes a small smile, though it looked more like a grimace, “Thank you”, he mouthed back to the soldier, who only nodded with a reassuring smile.

Odysseus took yet another deep breath, though his heart refused to slow down, and tried his best to ignore the shades above. He kept his eyes trained forward, not daring to look up anymore. If he dared to look up and heed the souls that screamed for him, called out to him, betrayal and anger and despair clear in their voices, Odysseus wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t end up becoming one with the realm of Hades, just as all the other shades here.

He let his mind wander, anything to avoid having to listen to the desperate cries of his dead comrades. He heard the wailing of children distantly, crying for their mothers and fathers, crying for the warmth of an embrace. The sound reminded him of the infant son of Hector, prince of Troy. That same infant son Odysseus had dropped off a cliff, the same infant that was the root of all Odysseus’s guilt. Even with Zeus’s urging to kill the boy, Odysseus still doubted his decision to this day. Could there truly not have been another way? Was the only way to keep those he loved safe was to rid an innocent child of its life for something it could have never controlled? In another world, would Hector, or another warrior, have done the same to Telemachus? Gods, Odysseus can’t stand the thought of his son hurt because of him. He’s only known the boy for a few months, a little more than a year even, before he had to leave for war, yet he already owed the boy the whole world for missing more than a decade of his life.

“This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms,” a voice, light and soft, spoke those familiar words that made Odysseus’s heart stop. He didn’t have to look to see who was speaking. He could recognize that voice with his eyes closed anywhere and anytime. “Polites…” he breathed out the name, and Odysseus sent a prayer to Hades to have mercy on his best friend, to let Polites and everyone else enter the afterlife.

He wanted to turn around, but every voice inside him screamed NO! How could he face him now? It’s been months since Polites… oh. That’s right… he hadn’t given him a proper burial. Odysseus hadn’t given anyone a proper burial, aside from Elpenor, who had fallen to his death just before they left to the Underworld. Perhaps that was the reason why so many souls of those Odysseus had lost were here. They couldn’t pay Charon to bring them down to the judging of souls. That fact weighed down on Odysseus even more. What kind of captain was he, to not even be able to give an honorable burial to those who deserved it?

Odysseus didn’t have to make a decision whether or not to turn around to face Polites, though, since the shade simply floated about and ended up in front of Odysseus. As if the shade could tell Odysseus was there, it turned around and Odysseus felt his heart twist and churn in his chest at what he saw. Polites’s soul, bright as the light he was to Odysseus’s life, held a familiar baby in his arms. The baby from Troy. Tears rushed to the corners of Odysseus’s eyes and he let out a shaky gasp. Polites only kept looking at the baby, smiling gently as he cradled it. “Whatever we face, we’ll be fine if we’re leading from the heart,” Polites managed to hush the baby’s sobs rather easily, something Odysseus remembered having a hard time doing way back when.

“No matter the place, we can light up the world. Here’s how to start,” The specter said gently, reminding Odysseus of how Polites was like back when they were just children together, playing around and having all sorts of adventures. “Greet the world with open arms.”

“Greet the world with open arms,” Polites’s voice echoed throughout the Underworld and throughout Odysseus’s head. It haunted Odysseus, made him feel as if his tether to reality were a single string, just mere moments from snapping. Odysseus reached out, as if to grab his best friend, to hug him, to hold him in his arms, to speak to him, but the shade of Polites and the baby were blown away like wisps of the wind. “Polites,” he breathed out desperately, wanting to call out for his light, his guide through the darkness that was this entire journey.

As the ship continued its way through the Underworld, Odysseus spotted something that looked akin to a dock of some sort. Tons and tons of shades were all lined up for the dock, gold in their hands, ready to offer to Charon when he returned. Odysseus knew better than to look through the faces of the shades, afraid he might find someone he recognized. So he looked away.

“Waiting…”

When yet another familiar voice reached his ears, Odysseus wished he had stayed away, looked away, went away. “That voice,” his eyes widened, and Odysseus knew his soul wouldn’t manage the trip out of the Underworld when they were done with the prophet. He can’t bear the weight of another life in his hands, the grief of finding out about the deaths of others in such a horrifying way. Yet his body acted on its own, as though it searched and yearned for more suffering to take on, “It can’t be…”

“Waiting…”

“Mom?” Odysseus choked out, his knees almost giving out under him. When the boat continued forward, he walked swiftly to the back of the boat, so that he could reach his mother. There she was, standing in line for Charon’s next journey through Styx, her hair the same style he’s always seen it in, her smile as sad as the day she found out he had to leave for war. Has her hair always been that white color? Has her body always been that thin and worn out? Has her gaze always been that distant and longing?

“Waiting… Odysseus, when you come home, I’ll be waiting,” Odysseus sucked in a sharp breath at those oh-so familiar words. Twelve years ago, maybe even thirteen years now, just before he left Ithaca for that war he never wanted to participate in. He really didn’t keep his promise when he told her he wouldn’t take long. His hands held tightly to the wood in front of him, flexing and unflexing, as though contemplating jumping off the boat and onto the river Styx that they sailed through. “Even if you’re the last thing I see, I’ll be waiting.”

“I’m right here, mom,” He called out, a hand reaching out to attempt to hug his mother. She was so close, so, so close to him. His hand only phased through her shade, and Odysseus tried again, desperate to hold his mother once more, “Can’t you see?” He failed the second time, yet still, the man tried a third time, yet once again his hand only passed through, as though he were trying to hold water.

“I took too long…” The tears finally fell from his eyes when he realized his efforts were naught but futile. His mother only continued her soulful lament, unaware of his presence right in front of her, “I’ll always love you.” Odysseus held back his sobs, praying that his men wouldn’t look back to see him like this, “And I ventured too far…” “I’ll stay in your heart.”

“While you were waiting, waiting, waiting…”

As Odysseus watched the slowly shrinking form of his mother, tears still streaming down his face, he couldn't help but wonder how many more people had he left behind without being able to give them a proper farewell.

“Bye, mom,” Odysseus said, and he hated how he knew it would be the last time he’d even be able to say this.

______________________________

“Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!” the voices called out, yet Odysseus knew that there was no one actually calling for him.

Even after they had left the Underworld, those words still echoed through his head. No matter how hard he truly tried to ignore and block it out, it somehow wormed its way into his mind, a reminder of his terrible deeds, of his indirect betrayal to his people. The prophecy foretold by Tiresias the prophet didn’t make things any better either. Some murderous man would be with his wife, there may be a betrayal, his palace covered in red, and the man who gets to go home… no longer him. Upon being faced with such a future full of doom, was it not the standard human reaction to find a way to prevent it?

Odysseus forced himself to ignore the small voice in his mind, the one that told him that there was no way a prophecy could be broken. Many tales have been told about people attempting to do so, yet they’ve all but failed. Yet Odysseus can’t help but try. Now that he’s seen the error or his ways, the truth of it all, the truth that so many of his crewmates and others have tried to tell him.

“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.”

So, if Odysseus became the monster he saw his foes as, if he truly put himself and his team in the highest priority rather than mercy, then perhaps they would all finally make it home. They had to do everything they could to survive. For Penelope. For Telemachus. For Ctimene, Eumaeus, Argos, and his father. For his people in Ithaca.

The ship slowly sailed towards the lair of Scylla. Odysseus learned from the sirens that the only way to get past the god of the seas would be to sail through where even Poseidon didn’t dare pass. This was their only way home. “Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!!” the voices shouted once again, and the thought that he could at least bring the memory of those he lost with him on the way home consoled him by the tiniest margin.

In the midst of reflecting upon the wails and groans that stayed in his mind, he just barely realized Eurylochus had approached him from behind. “You’re quiet today,” he spoke softly, cutting through the air of silence that had covered the crew after what had transpired with the sirens. Not that Odysseus particularly knew why they had all stared at him strangely and checked in with him a little more often than before. In fact, after he ordered the sirens’ deaths, he can’t help but feel a small bit of his weight lifting from his chest. While he never wanted to have to kill someone again, there was that small sense of morbid satisfaction as he managed to get through an obstacle without someone from his side getting killed or murdered or compromised.

“Not much to say,” Odysseus shrugged noncommittally. There truly wasn’t much to say. He knew the cost of going through Scylla’s lair. But was he ready to pay the price?

A few beats of even more silence later, Eurylochus spoke up again, addressing the whole crew, including Odysseus, “I’ve got a secret I can no longer keep..” That made most of them perk up, and they turned a bit to the right-hand-man, to hear what he was saying. Odysseus, too, turned around from where he was watching the waters and looked at his brother-in-law.

Eurylochus took a deep breath and came out with it, “I opened the wind bag while you were asleep.”

And Odysseus’s entire world fell apart. His eyes widened, and he even heard some crew members let out a small gasp at the reveal. It was Eurylochus this whole time? The man Odysseus trusted the most? He was the reason why they were all here about to risk their lives and not in Ithaca right now. They were so close to home.

Eurylochus knew that too, for the next thing he said was an apology, “I’m so sorry.”

He let out a shaky breath and swallowed down his words. Odysseus turned around, he couldn’t bear looking at his brother-in-law now. In all honesty, Odysseus had been content not knowing the traitor who had opened the wind bag; there was no point in shifting blame and suspicion, not anymore. Plus, they had been confronted by Poseidon not even a moment after the storm was unleashed once again. There were too many things to think about, too many things to worry about, too many people to mourn for, too little people to account for.

His mind raced with thoughts, most of which were now regarding his brother-in-law’s indiscretion a few weeks, maybe a month or two, ago. Eurylochus gently held onto Odysseus’s arm, trying to get his attention despite the man looking out to the sea, “Forgive me.” He pleaded and begged the king to give some sort of reaction, other than mere shock and then despondence. But Odysseus couldn’t find the words to reply. He couldn’t think of what to say.

Slowly, the crew went back to their own duties, rowing the ship towards the path that Odysseus had charted for them earlier. Full speed ahead, they’d tell themselves as they rowed and rowed and rowed.

As they slowly neared the lair of Scylla, Odysseus turned to Eurylochus, his expression trained and unreadable. “Eurylochus, light up six torches,” he gave his command. This time, Eurylochus didn’t question him, nor did he say anything further; the right-hand only went to gather some torches to light, handing them to some men who weren’t doing much work at the moment. Eurylochus didn’t know what was in Odysseus’s mind, nor did Odysseus know what was in Eurylochus’s; he wasn’t sure, at least. How could he be sure now? When he was just about sure that Eurylochus wouldn’t have betrayed him until mere moments ago.

Everyone sailed inside the lair in silence, the stench of dead bodies, blood, and guts permeating the air. Yet Odysseus found himself not as averted to it as he remembered being; he’d gotten used to it, the smell of death.

“Captain!” Odysseus snapped back to reality as Eurylochus called out to him. Almost like clockwork now, Odysseus made a mental headcount; everyone was here and accounted for. Well, all forty-three of them, including Odysseus. No one died, Odysseus comforted himself with the thought. He turned back his attention to Eurylochus, who was facing elsewhere, trying to use his torch to see something clearly. “Something approaches,” he said, though he didn’t sound too sure. Odysseus didn’t feel as confused as his comrades did, however, and only walked to a shadier part of the boat, not quite as illuminated by the torches.

“Hello.” A throaty, raspy voice spoke from where Eurylochus was facing. There it stood. A woman. Her upper torso being the only thing seen in the dark cavern of the lair, protecting her dignity, as if she were a mere maiden taking her time in the murky waters. Her long hair cascaded down her body, floating by the tips where it hits the water. Her bones could be seen from how thin and malnourished she appeared, and her smile split her face into two parts. It was her eyes that made Odysseus sure of who she was, sunken and the darkening color of her sclera. She looked like a monster, indeed. Yet Odysseus knew this wasn't a monster he'd have to entertain for too long.

The waters around them shook, crashing waves moving the ship side to side just slightly, and Odysseus's breath hitched for a moment. Quickly, he shook his head to calm himself, digging his nails into the skin of his palm to ground himself back. Poseidon wasn't here. He wouldn't dare follow them here. Not here, where the monsters aren't picky with the flesh and blood they eat.

Slowly, a large head emerged from the water, like a snake ready to strike its prey. Next, another head followed, and then another. Six serpentine heads came up from the water, drool dripping down some of their mouths as they gazed at the sailors. The woman looked at the six illuminated areas of the ship, six people holding the torches, and she smiled.

Odysseus saw the smile and he immediately became guarded. He linked further into the darkness of the ship, and took a deep breath. “Row for your lives!!” He shouted, prepared to face the storm this would be. The soldiers obeyed the command, as they always did, and rowed as fast as they could. If they could have seen Odysseus, they'd have seen the king looking out to the horizon, looking away from the carnage that he knew was about to transpire.

No matter how fast the sailors rowed, Scylla easily followed. The narrow passageway of her lair made it hard for ships as big as this one to pass through, and she certainly wasn't going to let her first meal of a couple hundred years pass through so easily. “Drown in your sorrow and fears!” She sang, her voice growling as one of her serpent heads scoops up one of the men in its mouth.

“Choke on your blood and your tears,” She continued to sing, but Odysseus didn't give her the time of day. He filled his ears with beeswax once again, just like he had with the sirens. He turned his back to the bloodbath he knew was going on behind him. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tight. He won't hear anything. Not until it was over. He refused to heed the screams of his men, calling out for him, “Captain! Captain!!”

“Captain! Captain! Captain!” The voices in his mind were determined to remind him of what he was doing. The beeswax in his ears did nothing to silence the screams of the Underworld that resonated within him still. He was supposed to be their captain. He was their captain. This was just a small sacrifice he had to take. He'll get home. He'll bring the memory of everyone he's lost home. That's compensation. Right? Right?

“Bleed till you run out of years! We must do what it takes to survive,” the monster sang, a sadistic glint in her smile as she felt the soldiers’ fear, confusion, and adrenaline. One more sailor got eaten, and the three torches that were illuminating the ship fell to the water or to the ground of the ship. The light got dimmer and dimmer. The darker everything got, the louder the screams in Odysseus’s mind, “Captain! Captain! Captain! Captain!” His heart started beating faster, his head started screaming at him even more, “Captain! Captain!”

“Give up your honor and faith,” Scylla growled slightly, one of the heads roaring as it lunged for another sailor. Eurylochus immediately gave the torch he was holding to another man, and ran to try to save the one the head was targeting. He failed. Blood splattered straight to the right-hand-man, and Eurylochus froze in place as he witnessed the body of his comrade become bitten into. The guts and entrails spilled all over the place, and the serpent head had to come back a second time to take the leftovers. “Live out your life as a wraith!!” Another sailor was swept up, and Eurylochus finally realized something when he saw the dimming light of the torches. Having started to notice the pattern, the man quickly turned around to save the last one holding the torch.

“Die in the blood where you bathe,” The man holding Eurylochus’s torch watches in confusion as he ran toward the light source, but Eurylochus was too late. The ship fell to darkness, Eurylochus standing in the middle of a bloodstained ship, 37 other sailors left on the ship. Odysseus, noticing the lack of turbulence over the waters, opened his eyes and discreetly took off the wax in his ears. He turned around, watching the serpent heads retreat back into the water, hunger sated. The king walked across the ship, keeping his head looking straight forward, striding past Eurylochus, who only stared at his captain in incredulity and horror. “We must do what it takes to survive.”

Odysseus stopped by the front of the ship, looking out to the end of the cave they rowed toward. Eurylochus only stood there, and looked at the other soldiers, as if asking them if they noticed what he noticed. The looks and gestures he got in return affirmed his suspicions, even though he hated what he found out when he realized the truth.

Scylla stared at the ship leaving her lair with a sly smile, “We are the same, you and I.” Odysseus’s breath hitched when he heard the last part of her song. He cursed in his head, knowing full well that the monster was talking about him. “We are the same, you and I,” The sole lyric echoed in his head, and his breath hitched in his throat at the implications. He was a monster. He's become the monster he had to be.

Odysseus wasn’t sure if he should take it as a good or bad thing.

______________________________

“Captain!! Captain!!”

“How could you let the cyclops live when ruthlessness is mercy-”

Odysseus's thoughts were interrupted by Eurylochus stomping over, footsteps heavy with anger. “Tell me you did not know that would happen,” Eurylochus demanded, his face contorted into an almost constipated expression. “Say you didn't know how that would end.”

When Odysseus didn't give a response, Eurylochus grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn around. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, captain.” He flinched. He counted the people on the ship, thirty men rowing, five other men cleaning up and mourning, and then there’s him and Eurylochus. Thirty-seven of them out of the forty-three of them before they entered Scylla’s territory. “That you did not just sacrifice six men!” Eurylochus yelled, fury flashing through his expression.

“Use your wits and try to say I'm crazy and mad!” Eurylochus tried to beg his captain, “That this is all some trick the god's have sent!” Anything, just anything that meant that Odysseus hadn't lost his kind from homesickness. “Tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad,” He paused, his expression turning to anger once again when he realized Odysseus wasn't saying a thing to defend himself. “That you gave up the lives of six of our friends!” Eurylochus’s voice cracked, the sight of even more of his friends and teammates being killed once again too jarring for him now.

“Think about the men we have left, before they’re none,” He thought back to Eurylochus’s words, and Odysseus couldn’t help but feel confused. Was this not what Eurylochus was so prepared to do not even a month or two (or three, time has eluded Odysseus’s mind) ago in Circe’s island? Why was the man mad at him now? His confusion must have been conveyed on his face, because Eurylochus grabbed a part of Odysseus’s chiton and yanked it upwards. “When we fought the cyclops, you were quick to hatch a plan!” The same plan that took so long, it gave the cyclops the opportunity to kill so many people, Odysseus retorted in his head. “And when we fought with Circe, it was you who left behind no man!” What about Elpenor, Odysseus added on.

“Yet when we saw this monster, we didn't take a stand. We just ran!” Eurylochus scoffed, balling his hands into fists as he shook Odysseus by the top of his chiton. The king only looked to the side despondently. He didn't want to admit it. Eurylochus didn't like that, and he screamed in Odysseus's face, “SAY SOMETHING!”

“I can't!” Odysseus finally spoke, looking back to his brother-in-law with an angry expression that mirrored the other's.

When Eurylochus finally accepted that the man in front of him was no longer a man, but a monster, he managed to steel himself. He harshly let Odysseus back to the ground, and grabbed the hilt of his greatsword, prepared for battle. “Then you have forced my hand.” Odysseus had gone too far. He crossed the line he had been standing on for the past few years.

He hadn't noticed that the ship stopped moving, the soldiers moving from where they were to surround the two commanders. He was too focused on his brother-in-law raising his weapon against him, and the pang of hurt and betrayal that shot through him. “Lower your weapon,” he ordered, but Eurylochus only shook his head, “No can do.”

“You miss your wife so bad, you'd trade the lives of your own crew!” Eurylochus accused, still unable to believe what his own friend had done. “Don't make me fight you, brother,” Odysseus replied sharply, a hand moving to his own sword and he went down to a defensive position, “You know you'd have done the same!” Otherwise, why had Eurylochus been so ready to abandon Elpenor, Perimedes, and Georgios as pigs under Circe's mercy?

But Eurylochus didn't even flinch at the blame being shifted to him, “If you want all the power, you must carry all the blame!” Because what sort of leader wouldn't carry the blame of his men on his shoulders? What sort of captain would leave his friends and comrades to die? What sort of captain would turn his back to the suffering of his people?

Odysseus was no captain, Eurylochus accepted that fact as he swung his blade at his friend, his king, his brother. The soldiers watched in worry, anger, and apprehension as the rope that held everyone together and loyal to the other snapped. Murmurs arose amongst them and most, if not all, found themselves feeling how Eurylochus did. Betrayed.

Where did their captain go? Where did their king go? Where did Odysseus go?

“Captain, please stop this,” one of them called out, but Odysseus ignored it as he blocked a hit from Eurylochus’s weapon. He couldn't hear it among the screams in his head calling out for him already, “Captain! Captain! Captain!” He had to get home. He just had to get home now.

Ithaca's waiting. His kingdom was waiting. Penelope was waiting for him.

“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves.”

Odysseus swept Eurylochus off his feet with a low kick to his ankles, and he raised his sword high. He had no need for a second-in-command who questioned him at every turn. He had no need for a brother-in-law who wasn't even dedicated to getting home.

Odysseus's job wasn't to make sure any of them were happy. His job was simply to make sure they got home. Alive or as a memory, he didn't care at this point.

“I am not letting you get in my way!!” Odysseus screamed as he lowered the sword down to Eurylochus, only for a dagger to suddenly stab through his stomach. He choked on his saliva, blood rushing up to leave his mouth as crimson dripped down the dagger slowly, staining the wood of the ship red. He let out a wet gasp, frozen where he stood.

Slowly, he turned around, and saw Perimedes looking at him in anger and pain, as though Perimedes felt hurt simply having to stab his friend, but there was determination and anger in his face too. Behind Perimedes stood all the other sailors, Odysseus counted all thirty-four other angry faces full of betrayal. Betrayal Odysseus himself felt deep down as well, for the others, for Eurylochus, for himself. Behind the sailors, Odysseus saw the souls of the other five-hundred and fifty-eight men he saw in the Underworld, staring at him, screaming at him. “Captain! Captain! Captain!”

“My brothers,” he strained to speak, his eyes filling up with tears slowly. “Why?”

Perimedes kept the dagger in, and the soldiers spoke, “How are we supposed to trust you now?” From the corner of his eyes, Odysseus saw Eurylochus slowly standing up and joining the others, “Now, your time has come, your luck’s run out.” “How much longer till your luck runs out?” Odysseus remembered Eurylochus’s words previously, back when he was about to talk to Aeolus. He supposed that the seeds of doubt had sprouted and taken root faster than he could pull them out. That was the start of his chain of misfortune, the start of the incessant pattern of failure and betrayal. “I see portrayals of betrayal,” the prophet told him earlier, and Odysseus realized that there was no point in trying to avoid that prophecy. From back then with the wind bag and right now.

“Now, the time has come to shut you down,” Eurylochus and the rest said together, their faces speaking volumes of their disapproval of how their king had been acting. With how angry, betrayed, and simply exhausted his crew seemed, Odysseus couldn’t help but feel disapproval for himself too. “You relied on wit, and then we died on it.”

He couldn’t have been in the wrong could he? Not again. Not after he decided to try and change to be the right leader for his crew. “Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves,” he tried to convince himself, again. But he found himself doubting it once again. “Greet the world with open arms” was not a good way to live, and it would only cause suffering everywhere.

But this is what ruthlessness brought Odysseus, he realized. “Captain! Captain! Captain!!” the voices of his crew screamed once again. Odysseus’s mind was filled with their faces, begging for mercy, as they were drowned, smashed, and killed. At the time, Odysseus thought Polites was right; he wasn’t. Then, after Tiresias’s prophecy, he begrudgingly started to believe that Poseidon was right; he supposed he wasn’t either.

So then who was? Who was right? How did Odysseus have to change, now that he’s realized his wrongs on all accounts? Looking at the faces of his men, the ones alive, and thinking back to those that died, Odysseus felt the urge to apologize. To say the single word all of them knew wouldn’t fix anything, the word that would at the very least let Odysseus have a better chance of redeeming himself. Of being the king he’s supposed to be.

… Gods, how much had Ithaca changed, within twelve to thirteen years? How much had Penelope changed? Telemachus?

Odysseus’s mouth opened, blood dripping from the side, as he steeled his nerves to finally hold back and swallow his pride. But before he could get a word in, Perimedes cut him off, “I’m sorry, captain.”

And he pulled out the dagger harshly. Odysseus felt a blunt force that felt like the handle of a spear hit the back of his head and he fell down, dizzy. Black spots littered across his vision as Odysseus distantly heard his men scurrying off somewhere, someone taking him up in their arms carefully.

He blacked out.

______________________________

Odysseus woke up to the sound of cows mooing and the rustling of the grass. Wait, grass? There wasn’t any grass on his ship. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself tied with rope, leaned against some type of flat stone. His stomach wound was cleanly wrapped, and he could slightly feel the small sting of some ointment around the slowly healing stab.

His eyes squinted at the bright sun that hit him, and it took him a few moments to compose himself. His head pounded, throbbing like he was about to have a migraine. “Agh, my head,” he winced, his voice raspy from likely not having spoken in a while. A cow’s moo echoed through the area, and Odysseus frowned a bit; the noise did nothing to help his headache. He realized that he was on some kind of hill, overlooking a whole bunch of cows. There were more cows than Odysseus could even count, and much more cows here than there had been sheep in Polyphemus’s cave.

“Where are we?” He asked the question to no one in particular. Odysseus hadn’t expected a response until Eurylochus spoke, just a few feet away, “Some island.” Eurylochus didn’t even look at the man tied up, his distant gaze focused solely on the cows, as if he were entranced at the sight of the lean meat, “The first one we found. It’s bursting with cows just roaming around, and begging us to eat.”

Odysseus watched as Eurylochus licked his lips, swallowing thickly as he watched the cows, “So much meat, and hunger is so heavy…” With another deep breath to hold in the urge to simply eat the cows raw, Eurylochus turned to something behind Odysseus, looking up, “This statue,” he spoke, and Odysseus tried to turn around to take a look, but winced when he felt his wound ache at the pressure from the ropes. He had to rely on whatever Eurylochus was saying for more information.

“The god of the Sun,” Which god of the sun, Odysseus wanted to ask so very badly. Yet he also knew that both sun gods were rather protective of their cattle, and had all the means necessary to issue a punishment should these cattle be harmed. Both Helios and Apollo were also rather demanding gods when angered, and Odysseus knew that if they made even one wrong move, they’d be done for. “Don’t know where it’s from,” Odysseus had to hold back the urge to try to shake Eurylochus out of whatever trance he’s in; what do you mean Eurylochus didn’t think to figure out which sun god this was, and where exactly they are? He never remembered Eurylochus being this negligent. “But here’s where we found all these cows to hunt, right in front.” “And hunger is so heavy,” Eurylochus repeated, the rest of the crew groaning about their hunger just behind him too, that same distant haze over their eyes. That was when Odysseus knew he had to do something. He angled his body so that the ropes that tied him to the statue’s pedestal, so that the sharp edges would give enough friction to slowly fray the ropes. “Please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do..” He pleaded with his friend, not exactly in the mood to raise his voice anymore.

Eurylochus finally turned to his brother-in-law, sadness and hopelessness peeking from behind the haze that seemed to cover everyone’s eyes, “Ody, we’re never gonna get to make it home.” He spoke bluntly, tired from the long journey they’ve gone through to this point. “You know it’s true,” Odysseus’s stomach knotted into itself at the other man’s words. He shook his head, desperation gleaming in his eyes as he looked at Eurylochus’s resigned face, “You don’t know it’s true.”

It can’t be true. Odysseus could think of a way to get back home, now that he had a pretty vague idea of where he was. And even if he didn’t, he’s the Odysseus of Ithaca, the “man of many ways”, as many bards and singers have written songs and hymns of praise to him and his wits. He had to think of a way back home. He can’t handle another day, another hour, another second without his wife. But first, he had to find a way to convince his men not to do anything stupid, “This is the home of the sun god!”

“I’m starving, my friend,” Odysseus ignored the small feeling of relief when he found that Eurylochus still viewed him as a friend, and continued to try wearing down his friend’s temptation, “But if you kill his cattle, who knows what he’ll send? This is the home of the sun god!” Odysseus moved his body discreetly, making sure not to strain his injury while also doing his best to cut away the ropes that bound him to the statue.

“I’m tired, my friend!” Eurylochus’s stomach growled audibly, and Odysseus let out a small wince as his own stomach growled as well, of hunger and pain. He rubbed the rope against the side of the pedestal harder, trying as hard as he could to escape his bindings. Meanwhile, he had to do everything he could to convince everyone else, “But we’re so close to home, this can’t be where it ends..” In reality, Odysseus wasn’t very sure how far or close they really were from home. He’s half-sure that they’ve gone beyond uncharted waters and lands, but he’s not quite sure how far he had to go.

Eurylochus only shook his head as he started to slowly and carefully walk to one of the cows nearby, “How much longer must I suffer now? How much longer must I push through doubt?” He slowly stalked toward the innocent cow, his movements that of a precise hunter, and Odysseus hastened what he was doing to try cutting off the rope. The cord started to slowly fray, each small strand getting cut off in a painfully slow manner, but progress is progress, Odysseus supposed. “Please don’t do this… I need to get home!”

“How much longer must I go about my life like this, when people die like this?” The starving man took another step to the unassuming cow. Odysseus snuck a glance to check on his progress with the ropes. He's almost there. Almost there. “Eurylochus…” He couldn't even think of anything to say anymore. After all, he knew how stubborn his right-hand was. And from the strange haze-like veil over everyone's eyes, simply at the sight of the fattened and well-taken care of cattle, no one would listen to reason.

The other crewmates walked over too, stalking closer and closer to the resting cow. Just like Eurylochus, everyone else had a similar eerie desperation. Odysseus, realizing that something was wrong with his men, shouted and pleaded. “Reconsider! We can get home!!”

In a last-ditch attempt to get his men back into their right minds while trying to get himself out, Odysseus turned to his right-hand man. “Eurylochus,” he pleaded, praying to the gods that Eurylochus would at the very least hear him out. Yet the only response Odysseus received was the taller man reaching for the greatsword strapped to his back, raising it high in the air. “I'm just a man,” Eurylochus spoke, his stomach growling even louder as he swung down his blade.

“Eurylochus, NO!-” Odysseus finally cut himself free from his bounds, and stood up. He reached his hand out to Eurylochus, but he was too late.

A startled moo bellowed across the island. Blood dripped down the large blade, reflecting the light of the sun shining down on them. The reflected light was blinding, oddly; red blood wouldn't reflect that bright a light-

Gold.

Odysseus felt his heart stop. The blood was gold. The cow was bleeding gold. Ichor, essence of the divine.

“You've doomed us,” Odysseus breathed, torn between forcing himself to keep breathing or just stop altogether. His mind ran multiple miles a minute, and he finally managed to get a glimpse of the sun god’s statue he was tied to. Helios, the Sun Incarnate. “You’ve doomed us all, Eurylochus!” He screamed, his voice cracking when the true consequences of likely angering the Helios, titan personification of the sun, crashing down on him heavier than any he’s carried before.

As if his scream had finally pierced through their hunger-clouded minds, Eurylochus slowly turned around. The haze over his eyes disappeared, and all that was left was the look of someone crumbling in despair, lost in the labyrinth of confusion. “Captain?” The man sounded so disoriented, so confuddled at what he just did.

“Captain! Captain! Captain!” “Captain?” Odysseus forced himself to shake off the uneasiness that washed over him at the sound of that word. Eurylochus needed him. They all needed him. These thirty-six men needed him right now. The king forced himself to suck in his panic and took charge. He firmly looked at all his men, who had now snapped out of whatever trance they were in. Thirty-six, he counted, including Eurylochus. “We need to get away from this island now!”

He urged, moving to the single ship docked nearby, though his legs staggered when a pang of pain shot through his torso. Immediately, Eurylochus and Perimedes ran over and took to his sides to help him quickly. Everyone else followed, rushing to the boat and getting the ship ready to leave. “Grab an oar with all the strength your arms allow,” He ordered, raising his voice as loud as he could in his injured state. They finally got to the ship, and the men by his sides left to obey the orders, doing their usual sailing duties.

“These cows were immortal, they were the Sun god’s friends,” He explained, looking directly to his right-hand-man to explain. Odysseus didn’t want a second repeat of what happened however long ago it was; with the wind bag, with Scylla, it was time to be more transparent with himself to others, he realized. “And now that we’ve pissed them off,” He added, turning to look at the herd of cattle that ran around the island in hysteria, “Who do you think he’ll send?!”

Every single one of the thirty-seven men in the ship were slowly falling apart in their panicking, hurriedly calling out to each other, “Full speed ahead! Full speed ahead!” The large oars rowed and rowed as fast as all of the hunger-panged sailors could, but Odysseus’s eyebrows furrowed in alarm when he noticed the marble statue of Helios slowly move its head in their direction.

“Faster!” He ordered, stomping on the wooden floor of the messy ship to emphasize his order. “Full speed ahead,” everyone chanted uncoordinatedly. “Faster!!” He pushed, shouting as loud as he could. “Full speed ahead!”

A blast of thunder reverberated across the sea, and upon seeing the clear skies slowly being covered in stark white clouds, Odysseus knew one thing. There was no escape now.

#epic the musical #epic the thunder saga #epic the circe saga #epic the cyclops saga #epic the storm saga #epic the musical angst #epic fanfiction

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