#epic fanfic

[mer-acle]

It's kind of difficult writing Greek mythology stuff sometimes. Like, you have these characters that have like books worth of lore attached to them, which you obviously can pick and choose from, but the way I usually do it is I find out who the character is and then think about how they would react to their myths if that makes sense.

Like for example, in the Hera and Athena AU, Hera wouldn't do a bunch of stuff she's known for, like the pursuit of Leto or going after Herakles and all that, it makes no sense for the character I made her for this. For this story, without going into too much detail, it would make sense for Leto to be pissed at Hera anyway, even though it's Zeus who wronged her. Still, because of the preestablished lore, it kinda feels like victim-blaming to write them this way, even though the thing that victimized Leto didn't happen in my story? idk if that makes sense.

Kinda got the same thing going on with Hephaestus and Athena, because no version of Hephaestus that I've written and intend to write would do anything "Erechtonius" but like... would I feel weird shipping them? Probably. (not that I want to anyway but yeah. There's something else in one of the AUs that I'm worried is just a tad controversial)

idk I'd be interested in other people's thoughts on this topic

[xfilesinamajor]

Commission by the incredible @kazimir29 of Eurylochus and Ctimene, which I requested partly to accompany my short Ctimene fic "Trapped" but mostly because her art is beautiful and Eury's my favorite.

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

'friends in higher places' au masterlist

tumblr posts:

the thread that started it all - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

dinner scene - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 (is planned)

poseidon snippets (not chronological) - part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (i have an idea)

other bits - potential future thoughts | a potential angsty idea |

ao3:

chapter 1 | chapter 2 (coming soon?) |

[yourlokalescholar]

Astyanax lives AU doodles!

[roxasbooth]

There was more demand for the EPIC: The Musical AU where Poseidon starts to grow fond of Telemachus

You ask and you shall receive 👀

Also I'm naming this AU "Graced by The Sea" and will tag it as such-

So! Here's more of it!

——————————

•Poseidon is walking around Ithaca's shores in disguise, as a young Telemachus happens to stumble upon him:

The silence got a bit long as the young boy and the sea god stared at each other, Telemachus with curiosity and Poseidon with annoyance.

Telemachus finally broke the silence: "Hello mister, are you also waiting for your family to return from the sea?"

Poseidon: "Errr..."

Telemachus: "It's fine if you don't want to tell me...but I know who you're waiting for would come back eventually, just as my dad will!"

Poseidon, for some reason, couldn't contain his newfound curiosity towards this child: "Who is your father, boy?"

The kid answered: "The king of Ithaca, of course!"

Poseidon stared at the child silently. Emotions were raging inside of his head like a whirlpool. This was...the son of Odysseus? The man who'd blinded his child?

Revenge was an option, and it was the one most prominent. Why shouldn't he get his very much deserved revenge right there and at this moment? He could just—

"Are you waiting for your son, mister?" The kid tugged at his robe.

Poseidon's heartbeat picked up. This was the perfect opportunity, the perfect time, and yet...

"...Perhaps." He simply answered.

"Well," the child gave him a smile, "I'm sure he'd be back before you know it!"

Poseidon nodded slightly, if that even was a nod.

"I need to return now, my mom would be worried. Goodbye, mister!" The young boy waved at him and then ran off.

Poseidon just stood there, staring at the young boy who was running back home.

The sea was then restless, and it remained as such for the rest of that day.

[grape-jucie-dog]

In the lovely words of Teagan Earley, aka, TE/MO: WOAH, that got DARK.

(Basically, TW because this got darker than I thought.)

Imagine right.

You're Athena, and you've just been hit by lightning because Zeus is a sore loser. You're in Apollo's infirmary, and you're still recovering from the shock and the pain. You know it's going to take a long time to heal, but eventually you'll be fine.

But in the moment, nothing is fine at all. You're dealing with a fluctuating fever and shivers, and Apollo had to leave for something important. You're left completely alone with your thoughts and your regrets, praying that the friend you left behind is doing alright, and that his son is holding up okay without you to help him.

You feel waves and waves of nausea pass through you, and the lightning scars you've received from Zeus are still burning your skin, not to mention the burns. Your body is basically on fire, and the fever is giving you hallucinations and making you feel even worse than you already feel. The heat is making it hard to breathe, and you can't sit up because of how much pain you're in. You're drowning in your own ichor, struggling to get the air you need in, choking, but unable to die from it.

Your thoughts are screaming at you, telling you how weak you are, how you can just power through the overwhelming amount of heat you feel. Your mind is your worst enemy, playing the deafening sound of thunder over and over and over again in your head, telling you to just get over it. Put your emotions aside, that's what you told him, wasn't it?

But you can't. You can't even cry, not with the ichor bubbling in your throat. Silent tears run down your face, as you try to scream for help, desperately knowing you need it. But you can't. The rare moment you admit you need help, you can't even call for it.

Apollo had sensed something was wrong, but had been unable to get to you sooner. He finds you passed out in his infirmary, still choking, still crying, still burning.

[rin-solo]

Aight, how about I do some advertising for my (One-sided!!) Poseidon -> Odysseus fanfic on Ao3 by sharing with y'all this quote from chapter 2 that I got like multiple comments about ... in hindsight I can actually see why 👀💕

Release me, Poseidon begged Odysseus meanwhile, cradling his island as though it were the king himself. Or take me. Have me. Put me back together. Undo what you did to me or be mine for all eternity. But do not turn your back on me. Hear me. Hear me!

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Look I’ll think about this more when I’m awake and write a more detailed post then, but hear me out, Athena “died” at the end of ‘God Games’ and her godly power merged with Odysseus due to a) her last wish being to save him, and b) she used quick thought to give herself time to accept her impending death, thus why Odysseus survived Poseidon with his unexplained Dues Ex Machina, but now Odysseus (who sorta kinda merged with Athena) is considered the son of Metis and, as the prophecy given before Athena was born says, he will overthrow Zeus.

[bry--st]

Hi, I drew Laertes, Odysseus, a winion and Athena from a masterpiece I'm reading, compliments to Silvia Pinal there in heaven cuz I needed background noise and Mujer, Casos de la Vida Real never disappoints 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Read this masterpiece it's so good

10/10, if it had a dick, I would be sucking it instead of drawing, compliments to the chefs @grape-jucie-dog and @missdarhk 🤍🤍🤍

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Fallen And Can't Get Up"

[Circe x gn!reader]

Masterlist

Warnings: descriptions of a fever, fluff

Word Count: 908 words

A/N: For a friend. I don't write women very often-or at all- but this was a special case.

The floor feels cold against your cheek as you lie there, uncomfortably aware of just how much of a mess you are. One moment you were trying to get up, a simple task you’d done a thousand times before, and the next moment you’re lying flat on your back in the middle of Circe’s grand hall.

You shift slightly, trying to push yourself up, but your body protests, the fever making you weak. Everything is hazy—your head feels stuffed like you're underwater, and the pounding in your skull threatens to drown you.

Before you can attempt another feeble movement, you hear the sound of soft footsteps approaching. You blink as a shadow falls over you, and there, standing above you, is Circe. Her expression is a mixture of concern and mild amusement, though there's no cruelty in her gaze—only fondness.

“Are you quite alright, Lovely?” She asks in that beautiful voice of hers. Dear gods...

You manage a weak smile, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “I… I think I have a fever," you murmur.

She tilts her head, studying you with a strangely comforting gaze. Her gaze sweeps over you, and she doesn’t seem in a hurry to look away, as though she's trying to determine just how sick you really are. You feel your cheeks flush, and not just from the fever.

“That much is obvious,” Circe says. “You are burning with fever, and your limbs seem to have lost their strength entirely.” She kneels beside you, her fingers lightly trace your brow, brushing away the sweat. “Why didn’t you call for help?” Her voice holds a reprimand, but there’s a certain tenderness there too. “Foolishness, to let yourself suffer alone.”

You let out a weak laugh. “I thought I’d just… rest for a bit. But I guess my body had other plans.”

Circe’s smile deepens. Her presence is all-encompassing, like a steady, calming force. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your arm. The coolness of her touch contrasts sharply with the feverish heat of your skin, and for a moment, you swear you can almost feel the fever retreating from the spot where she touches you,

“I’ll help you to the couch,” Circe offers.

You try to protest, but even the effort feels draining. “I... I can manage...”

But Circe doesn’t seem to be listening. Before you can protest further, she lifts you with ease, her arms cradling you as though you weigh nothing. It’s almost disorienting. Her hands move like silk, smoothing your hair, keeping you from wobbling too much, and with an almost effortless grace, she guides you to a plush chaise lounge near the windows.

She settles you gently onto the soft cushions, adjusting the blankets around you as if making sure you’re safe. You can feel her lingering close, her gaze still fixed on you. There's something in her expression now—something soft, almost affectionate, but the power she holds in her presence is undeniable. It's strange, how soothing her gaze can be, how it makes you feel both small and incredibly safe at the same time.

“There,” Circe says, smoothing the covers over you. “Comfortable?”

You close your eyes, hoping that the world will stop spinning for a moment. Your breath is still shallow, your throat burning like you’ve swallowed fire, and it takes all your strength to keep from shivering.

Circe notices immediately. “You’re trembling,” she observes, sitting down next to you. She lifts her hand to your forehead once more, her fingers cold, but this time, she lingers there longer, almost as if drawing the heat from you. The sensation is strange but oddly calming.

“Rest, now,” she says, her voice low and coaxing. “You need only sleep and let your body heal. I will stay with you.”

You open your eyes to look at her, suddenly aware of how close she is. Her presence is warm, even though the coolness of her skin against yours contrasts sharply with your fevered body. You feel her magic, subtle yet potent, swirling around you, as though it’s creating a protective barrier between you and the illness, though you can’t quite make sense of it.

“Stay…?” you repeat, your voice a little breathless.

“Of course,” she replies simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. She smiles softly, her eyes softening with something that might be affection—or something far more dangerous, something unreadable. “I won’t leave you, not when you need me.”

You blink up at her, feeling a flutter in your chest. The exhaustion and fever make everything seem surreal, but somehow, you’re not frightened. With Circe here, there’s a quiet comfort that starts to settle deep inside you, like an unspoken promise. Her presence soothes you, wraps you in warmth, even as your body continues to fight off the sickness.

Circe leans down closer, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. Her touch is soft, but there's a certain possessiveness to it, a feeling that she’s claiming you in this small, quiet moment.

“You need not apologize for your weakness,” Circe says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even the strongest fall ill sometimes. It is no shame.”

You can barely summon the energy to speak, but you manage a faint smile, your eyes heavy with sleep. “I… I didn’t think I’d fall this hard,” you whisper with a half-hearted chuckle.

She leans in close, her breath warm against your ear as she speaks in a low, gentle tone. “You’ll fall again, I’m certain of it. And next time… I’ll be here.”

Oh, yeah, you were falling again.

[morganaspendragonss]

when does the reason become the blame?

i was a casual listener of epic until thunder saga came out and then my spotify wrapped speaks for itself. figured i should finish this before ithaca saga epic: the musical | odysseus/penelope | 1044 words | ao3 general audiences, warning for mentions of war, blood and infanticide created for @anyfandomgoesbingo prompt: “How do I make you love me again?”

“Odysseus,” she says to him that night as he lies next to her in the dark, muscles coiled tight under tanned skin, so stiff he could be part of this bed he built for them. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t blink, doesn’t turn to embrace her.

“Odysseus,” she says again. “There have been…rumours. Stories.” Every night in fact, from the lips of some poet or musician come to tell her of her husband’s exploits these past twenty years. At first, they were songs of praise for their king and his cunning with the horse, songs of the glory Ithaca would soon be bathed in when he sailed home.

Lately, they are songs to convince her that he is dead, run afoul of the gods or monsters, or even just a man. Once, that thought would have been preposterous, treasonous even. Ithaca’s great king, killed by a man. But it has been twenty years and none of them have been able to tell truth from poetry for a very long time.

Penelope thinks to the blood which even now is still being scrubbed from the marble of the banquet hall, and she thinks to what they sing about this man who claims, who has proven himself, to be her husband.

“They say…Hector’s son.”

This prompts a reaction, his body curling slightly in on himself. Still, he does not look at her. “It was war.”

“Yes,” she says quickly, because she has told herself that same thing many times. But Penelope is also a mother. “Was there no way…”

“It was war,” he repeats, more firmly, just as hollow. Then he sighs and seems to wilt a little, the sheets rustling as he shakes his head. “It was the will of the gods.”

How many times has he said that, she wonders. How many times did they all say that, out there on the Trojan shore? How many times was it true?

It does not matter now. Penelope reaches out and touches his arm lightly, fingers finding new scar tissue, relearning this body she once knew so well. “You are a good man, Odysseus,” she tells him. “A great man.”

He tenses again under her touch, but he does not shake her off. There are no more words to be said tonight, that much is clear, so Penelope leans over and kisses his cheek, then, for the first time in twenty years, lies down to sleep next to her husband.

*

It becomes a ritual for them. At night, in the dark and the quiet, when no one else is around, Penelope asks and Odysseus answers. The truth comes out in fragments, as threads for Penelope to weave together night after night, and to unravel again to fit in each new line. She is practiced in this art, and ever so slowly, night after night, the tapestry begins to form.

“Not one of them died during the war. I was so proud, I did not think…”

“We came so close. I was blind.”

“She wanted… She tried… But I promise, my love, I did not.”

Some conversations are shorter than others; Penelope does not press when Odysseus’s voice runs out, when he stops mid-sentence and refuses to utter another word. These talks are too important for them both to risk – for her, to know, for him, to heal. To be her husband during the night, and Ithaca’s king by day.

Still, the night cannot heal all things. She finds him one day standing upon a balcony, looking down to where their son trains in the courtyard. Her own heart clenches to see him, this boy that she raised, grown so strong and so capable in so short a time. She owes Athena so much, but it is a debt she is loath to pay.

“He is a man now,” Odysseus murmurs, not turning to look at where she stands by his shoulder. “I have missed so much.”

“And there is plenty yet to witness. He is so much like you, Odysseus.”

Odysseus’s expression darkens and he turns away from the window. “For all our sakes,” he grits out, “let us hope that is not true.”

She is left, confused, in his wake. She would not deny that the man who returned is not the same man who left, but she cannot see, even after all he’s told her, why such a thing should be so terrible. Certainly, Telemachus would not think so.

“He idolises you,” she tells him that night.

And Odysseus tells her of the infant and the sirens and Scylla, his eyes full of shame and regret, and when he is done Penelope tilts his chin up and kisses him.

“You are too hard on yourself, my love.”

*

On the last night, when he is done telling her how Polites was the first to die, and Eurylochus the last; on the last night, when the tapestry of the last twenty years is complete. Odysseus falls to his knees on the marble floor, head bowed and clutching at her skirts. 

“You have to know,” he says. “You must know. Everything I did, everything I became, it was all for you. It was all to get home to you and our son.”

Penelope waits, at the declaration, for her share of the guilt to appear. Six hundred deaths on Odysseus’s shoulders, and now hers too; six hundred young Ithacan men, six hundred families deprived of their husbands and sons, and it is their fault because Odysseus refused to let go.

She should feel guilty, as he clearly does.

But she does not. She cannot. She mourns, yes, but she will not be sorry that her husband came home, that her son has his father again. She will not be sorry for housing 108 men for years, knowing what would happen to them when Odysseus came home. 

If Odysseus is a monster for everything he’s done, then Penelope is one too. And she is not sorry.

Odysseus looks up at her, desperate, pleading. “How do I make you love me again?” he asks, voice breaking.

Penelope simply smiles and draws him to his feet, her hand rising to rest against his cheek. “Oh, Odysseus,” she says, shaking her head. “We both know you could never make me do anything.”

[mer-acle]

current writing mood

[sarnai4]

I couldn't resist putting the hugs in this story. So, yeah. That became a thing 🤗🤗!

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

the first chapter of 'friends in higher places?' is live!!

i want to thank the amazing @rin-solo for being the best beta ever and reading through my nonsense and making it readable ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚

i hope you guys enjoy it!!!! i will be doing more/the rest (how long that will take i have no clue)

also i will still be posting parts/scenes on here too, its easier to write them out on here than into fic form dhdhdhdh

[gigllyflint]

Well, damn, some time ago I decided that Six Hundred Strikes from Poseidon's point of view might be a little... interesting... thank god I can always write freaky one-sided hate-obsession fic about that.

(My siblings are NOT allowed to read this. I'm watching you.)

Poseidon doesn't want Odysseus. He wants his hatred. He is addicted to that feeling, addicted to the anticipation of pain, addicted to being the worst thing in the life of a mortal. And it goes further than he expected.

[amazingmsme]

Restless ‘Til We Reach Home

Suffering So Endless (ch. 4)

AN: this one’s been locked & loaded for around 2 months, I’ve been keeping it in my back pocket cause I had a feeling there’d be another saga announcement & lo & behold here we are! Happy Halloween & happy vengeance saga release day! This might just be my favorite chapter so far, & I have big plans for what lays ahead! I’d been looking forward to writing this chapter ever since thunder saga, & I’m so excited to finally share it with y’all!

WARNINGS: unlike the previous chapters & my usual works, this chapter is fairly heavy. Trigger warnings for hallucinations, gore, body mutilation, possession & body horror. So again, happy Halloween!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 3.5 Ch. 5

Things were good. They were as good as they could be, given the circumstances. Most of the crew still avoided him, but that was okay. Odysseus finally accepted him, and that was all he really wanted.

He was much nicer than he had been, but Polites wouldn't go as far as to say he was being nice. Oh he was definitely kinder when addressing him, but he was nothing but bossy and dismissive to the rest of the crew. But he knew better than to call him out on it; he'd only just gotten back on his good side. Let Eurylochus handle it.

Eurylochus... didn't handle it. He was just as irritable as Odysseus, yet he seemed more on edge than usual.

"Hey there," Polites announced his presence as he floated up through the floor on his way to the upper deck. "Sorry, didn't mean to come through your room. I'm still trying to get used to these short cuts."

Eurylochus sat frozen at the foot of his bed, gripping the laces of his sandals tightly, relaxing as the initial fright began to fade. "It's alright. You know you're always welcomed to drop by."

"Thanks," he chirped, drifting closer. "So how've you been? You seem, I don't know, anxious."

Eurylochus heaved a deep, heavy sigh before he collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands.

"Are you alright? Eurylochus?" he called his name when he didn't respond to his question. Then, his shoulders began to shake, as if he were crying. Wait, he was crying.

"I did something awful, Polites."

He rushed over to sit beside him on his bed, and even though he wasn't fully there, the thin mattress still bowed beneath his "weight."

"Hey, it's okay. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not that bad."

Eurylochus shook his head frantically. "No, no you don't understand. We were almost home, none of this would've happened, it's all my fault," he confessed in a rush.

"Whoa, slow down. What do you mean you were almost home? I know it can feel that way, but I promise it's not."

"It is," Eurylochus wheezed in between sobs. He took a deep, stabilizing breath and began to explain. "After the cyclops, we were plagued with a storm the likes of which we'd never seen. We'd been fighting it for so long, and we finally reached the eye of the storm. As the clouds began to part, we could make out an island in the sky. We managed to anchor to it with some harpoons, and Odysseus went up to bargain with Aeolus." Polites listened on quietly, his brows knit together with a mix of concern, disappointment, and most confusingly, understanding.

He continued, "When he came back, the sky was clear and he held a large burlap sack. It looked heavy, so we asked what was inside, hoping it was something valuable. He snapped at us, warning that the bag held the storm. "It must remain closed at all times," he had said. We all thought he had gone mad. Truth be told, I don't know if anyone believed him. We were all blinded by greed and curiosity. No one thought the bag could actually hold the storm..."

"Oh Eurylochus, don't tell me you-"

He cut him off with a solum nod. "He didn't let that bag out of his sight for over a week. We were so close to home, we could see it on the horizon. But, Odysseus finally drifted off to sleep and I..." he trailed off, his head hung low. "I took the bag and looked inside."

Polites was shocked. He expected this kind of behavior from some of the other crew members, but Eurylochus? Calm, obedient, reasonable Eurylochus?

"Why didn't I just wait until we were home?"

"You didn't know," Polites said for his sake as much as his own.

"I betrayed him, and it cost us everything."

"So, I'm guessing you... haven't told him?"

He deflated at the question, staring at the floor. "No. I tried once, back on Circe's island, but... he was busy. He said whatever it was could wait. And, well, there hasn't really been a good time to do it since."

"There's never gonna be a good time to tell him."

"I know. But there is such a thing as a bad time, you know."

"I know," he said gently. When he didn't answer, Polites took his hand in his and gave it a comforting, reassuring squeeze. "Hey. You can't hide it forever." Eurylochus let out a sarcastic snort at that.

"Thanks, I wasn't planning to, smart ass," he teased, hoping to lift his own mood. It only halfway worked.

"Hey, I'm just saying what you're thinking," he quipped back. Eurylochus sighed, but it didn't sound as heavy as before.

"Thanks for that," he nodded. "For everything, honestly."

Polites offered a warm smile. "Of course! Anytime, okay?"

Eurylochus returned it with a half smile of his own. "Okay."

~~~

At this rate, they were never going to reach home. Any direct path on the open water was blocked by impassable storms and tidal waves, curtesy of the Sea God himself. They were forced to tread shallow waters and dodge massive rocks, taking every overlooked detour that might help them to evade Poseidon's watchful eye.

A thick fog rolled in, settling just above the choppy surface of the water lapping at the ship's hull. The fog continued to spread before them, concealing any obstacles in their path until they are dangerously close.

The men below deck rowed slow and steady, careful of the rocks on either side of the ship. The closed sails whipped and snapped against the mast as the wind caught the fabric. Odysseus steered the ship while Eurylochus stood on the look out for any incoming rocks.

A large shape took form in the distance, concealed by the fog. Eurylochus yelled for him to turn right, but as they grew closer, he realized what lay ahead.

"Captain! It's a ship!"

Odysseus grabbed the nearest soldier and handed them the wheel, making his way over to his first mate.

"What?"

"There, look," he pointed. Odysseus squinted as the large ship finally emerged from the mist. It rested on the surface, dangerously close to the rocks protruding from the water. Atop the deck, there were no signs of any life.

Odysseus held up a hand, stopping him from speaking further. "Something's off. This doesn't feel right."

"I agree, Sir. What do you suppose we do?" he asked genuinely. Odysseus shrugged.

"Come with me. We'll board the ship, and take what we need. It doesn't look like there's any survivors, but it doesn't hurt to check."

"No, no harm in looking," he agreed, purposefully avoiding his gaze. Odysseus didn't seem to notice.

"Polites? Polites, you there?"

It only took a moment before he appeared in front of them.

"Yeah, you need something?" he asked curiously. He caught Eurylochus looking his way before he turned back to look at the water.

"You're in charge of the ship while we're gone. Eurylochus, gear up. You and I are gonna check it out," Odysseus ordered. He stood up straight, giving a curt nod.

"Yes Sir." Eurylochus rushed off to grab his sword and armor, leaving the two of them alone.

"What's going on?" Polites asked, following the captain's line of sight.

"There's a ship by those rocks, but something doesn't feel right," Odysseus said, not taking his eyes off of it for even a second.

"Then is it a good idea to check it out?" he questioned, brows furrowed.

"We won't get answers if we don't look for them. Besides, there could still be someone left on that ship."

Polites smiled softly. "You have a good heart, Odysseus." He snorted in amusement at the comment, and Polites smacked the back of his head on instinct. "Don't laugh, I'm serious!"

Odysseus grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head even though it didn't hurt. "Yeah well, I'm glad someone still thinks so." Polites placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze.

"It's the truth," he insisted.

Odysseus heaved a sigh, "If you say so."

Footsteps approached from behind, and they both turned to see Eurylochus returning. He wore his battle armor, save for his helmet, and his large sword was slung over his shoulder.

They grabbed a long plank, connecting the two ships. The crew had gathered on the upper deck, curious as to what was happening. Uneasy whispers murmured throughout the crowd.

"Alright everyone, we'll be back soon. Now, get back to work." When no one moved, he repeated himself louder, "I said get back to work!" That seemed to do the trick, and the crew dispersed amongst themselves.

"Be safe you two. And don't do anything stupid," Polites bid them farewell, chuckling at his own joke alongside Eurylochus.

"With this one? No promises," he said, shooting a wink.

"Okay smart ass," Odysseus rolled his eyes, grabbing Eurylochus by the arm and dragging him off. He looked back over his shoulder at Polites, and gave a solum nod.

His breath hitched and he returned the gesture, saying a silent prayer for the both of them.

~~~

Odysseus lead the way as they walked across the narrow plank between the ships. Dark, choppy water splashed against jagged rocks below, spelling certain doom if one were to slip.

He made it to the deck and jumped off, waiting for Eurylochus to follow suit. He landed with a heavy thud, kicking up a thin layer of dust. They shared a concerned look.

"Well that's not a good sign."

"No, it's not," the captain agreed. He scanned the ship with a harsh, skeptical gaze. "Come on, let's look around."

They carefully explored the abandoned ship, swords drawn and ready. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Odysseus called out, but received no response. He was walking along the railing when he suddenly stopped and held up a hand, signaling Eurylochus to do the same.

He knelt down, inspecting deep claw marks along the edge of the deck. The rails were broken and splintered, leaving wood shards scattered around the area. Eurylochus squatted down beside him, running his fingers over the scratches.

"What happened to them?"

"If I had to guess? Sirens," Odysseus answered. He stood abruptly, heading towards the stairs. Eurylochus grabbed his wrist.

"Where are you going?" he asked, voice tinged with concern.

"We should check if there's any food or supplies below deck. They're not using it."

He sighed in relief and let him go, nodding in agreement,  "Good idea." He followed close behind, making sure to keep the captain in sight at all times. This place was unsettling, and they didn't know for sure if anyone, or anything was still here.

While rummaging below, they were able to find a spare sail along with a mending kit, and a crate half full of spoiled food. Spare weapons were strewn about the ship haphazardly, indicating that they were willingly discarded.

"Let's just gather what we can and leave," Odysseus ordered as he picked up a shield, slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to his first mate, noticing that he didn't move a muscle. "Eurylochus?"

He startled and snapped himself out of it, "Yes Captain?"

"You alright? Been pretty quiet," he noted, bending down to pick up a spear. "Y'know, this'll go a lot faster if you help," he teased. Eurylochus took a shaky breath, shoulders sagging in defeat. In shame.

"I need to tell you something."

"You can talk and work at the same time, can't you?"

"Ody, please." The nickname caught his attention, and he paused in his gathering. "I need you to listen."

His heart raced in his chest as Odysseus took a step closer. "I'm listening."

Eurylochus closed his eyes and looked away. He didn't even know where to start.

"I have a confession to make."

Odysseus felt himself grow tense. He steeled himself for whatever he was about to hear. A strong sense of dread boiled in the pit of his stomach: he prayed he was wrong about this.

"What is it?"

Eurylochus focused on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. His chest heaved with each breath, and he could feel a thin layer of sweat gathering on his skin. Just relax.

"I'm the one who opened the bag," he forced it out in one breath. Best to get it over with. He heard a small gasp just as metal clanged on the floor. Both the spear and shield laid unceremoniously at the captain's feet. His eyes slowly trailed up to look Odysseus in the eyes, but he really wished he hadn't.

Odysseus wore a look of shock and complete and utter betrayal. His brows were knit together tightly, mouth slightly agape. He shook his head, taking a step back.

"No. Tell me it's not true."

Eurylochus was crushed under the full weight of what he'd done.

"I'm so sorry, I-"

Odysseus turned away, wanting to leave, to go anywhere that wasn't here.

"Wait! Don't go!"

Odysseus froze where he stood, but didn't turn around.

"I should've believed you, I should've trusted you. I should've made them trust you."

"Yeah, you should've." He drew in a deep, shuttering breath. "But you can't change the past. What's done is done."

"I really am sorry."

"I'm sure you are."

"I tried to tell you on Circe's island, but..."

"I wasn't ready to listen," Odysseus cut him off when it seemed he was at a loss for words.

"That's not what I was going to say."

"But it's the truth." They stood in a tense silence, Odysseus still with his back turned. "I think deep down, I knew. I didn't want to, but I did."

"Please," Eurylochus pleaded. Odysseus finally turned around and forced himself to look at his first mate, his brother, his dear friend. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Odysseus felt his heart ache. From the betrayal, from everything. He gave the only answer he could.

"I don't know." Odysseus turned away wordlessly, walking in a daze.

Eurylochus followed behind, desperate for his forgiveness. "Ody, please-"

The affectionate nickname stung like saltwater in a fresh wound. He reared back, marching up to Eurylochus as he yelled, "You don't get to call me that!"

Eurylochus backed away, a look of hurt and understanding in his tearful eyes. Odysseus held strong for all but a second before he deflated, "Not... not right now."

He supposed that was the best he could hope for.

Though his head hung in shame, a tremendous weight was lifted from his shoulders. He just wished he felt better about it all.

They looked around the empty vessel in a tense silence, interrupted by a hauntingly beautiful, drawn out note. A beckoning call.

Odysseus whipped around to look at him, panic clearly written on his face.

"We have to get back to the ship. Now!"

Eurylochus didn't need to be told twice.

~~~

Odysseus called an emergency meeting as soon as they made it back. He dispersed the newly acquired weapons while explaining the situation at hand. Then, he started giving orders.

They were to set a slow and steady course forward, and everyone was to stuff their ears with beeswax to block the siren's song. Everyone except-

"I'm going to ask them for directions. I'll need to hear what they're saying, so you'll need to tie me to the mast to make sure I don't jump overboard."

Eurylochus and Polites stared at him as if he grew a second head.

"I'm sorry, what?" Polites immediately questioned the same time Eurylochus muttered, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We only have so much wax, I'd rather make sure that everyone else is safe," he reasoned.

"But what about your safety?" Polites asked, clearly concerned for his friend.

Odysseus barked out a laugh, brushing him off. "That's what the rope is for!"

"Rope can break."

"Not if you use enough of it," he argued. Polites threw his hands up in the air.

"You can't be serious!"

Odysseus didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed a coil of rope. Polites looked to Eurylochus for help.

"You're just gonna let this happen?"

He glanced nervously between his two best friends. "It's ultimately his decision. I personally advise against it, but..." he tilted his head in thought, "It could pay off."

"Have you both gone mad?"

"I think it's for the best. We'll never make it past Poseidon without their help. But they won't tell me if I don't play along."

"It's not playing along if you're hypnotized!"

"I'll keep my wits about me."

"You don't know that!"

"Captain-" Eurylochus spoke up, and the arguing pair turned to him, speaking in unison, "What?"

As they had been talking, the crew passed around the can of beeswax, stuffing their ears until they couldn't hear a thing. By the time it came around to them, it was almost completely empty. "There's barely enough left for one person."

Odysseus stared down at the last of the wax. "I figured as much," he sighed deeply. He picked up the large, heavy coil of rope from the deck and shoved it at Eurylochus. "Be sure to tie me up good and tight."

"Yes Sir," he nodded curtly and began securing Odysseus to the main mast. He started by binding his wrists together, pulling his arms back as far as they would comfortably go. Once he was confident that he wouldn't be able to pull his arms away, Eurylochus started wrapping the length of the rope around both Odysseus and the mast. He walked around in circles, stopping occasionally to pull the rope taught before continuing.

As Eurylochus worked, Elpenor and Perimedes stood on either side of him, taking the chance to annoy their captain while he couldn't fight back. Elpenor gave him a hard noogie, the wax blocking out his orders to stop. Perimedes chuckled and pinched his cheeks, squishing and stretching his face into funny expressions.

Any time Odysseus yelled at them or Eurylochus tried to chase them away, they only pointed at their ears, taunting them about how they "couldn't hear them" and "didn't know what they're saying." It was some much needed levity among the crew, and he didn't mind being the butt of the joke.

The ship continued cutting through the water, moving at a slow and steady pace. The fog rolled in thick and low above the water's surface, concealing what lurked below.

By now, everyone had returned to their stations. Odysseus stood at attention, his head on a swivel the longer they sailed. He began twitching in his bonds, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. They were close, and there was no turning back now.

~~~

Polites was scared. Not just for Odysseus, but oddly enough, for himself. Sure, he was already dead, but he had no idea how the sirens would affect him, or what they would do to a spirit like him- if they could do anything at all.

He was hiding below deck when he first heard it...

"La la la la la la..."

His head snapped up at the lilting, distant sound. "Eurydice?" he called out hopefully. She sounded so close, yet so far away. A flower sprouted between the floorboards, bright red and velvety soft. He bent over and picked it, bringing it up to his nose. He inhaled deeply, a light sweet scent filling his nostrils. The petals were thin and ruffled, and he swore it was growing in his hand.

When he looked up, there were lush vines hanging from the ceiling.

"La la la la la la..."

It was louder now, impossible to ignore. Without thinking, he floated up, through the thick foliage; through the wooden planks. Instead of seeing the crew navigating the ship, he stood beneath a massive pomegranate tree in the underworld.

No, he couldn't be here...

"Polites, over here!"

He turned to see Eurydice sitting on a nearby rock. She looked absolutely radiant, her short dark hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as she flashed a dazzling smile.

Voices danced around in his head.

"Eurydice."

"Eurydice."

"Don't you miss me?" she chirped, crawling closer along her rock.

He smiled, fighting back tears. "More than you know," he insisted, floating closer.

"Don't you wanna come greet me?" she asked as sat up on her knees, arms outstretched and awaiting a hug.

The illusion flickered, and for a moment, he was standing aboard the ship. Men frantically moved around him, distracting him before the illusion slipped back in place. He hesitated, "Eurydice, something isn't right. I know that you shouldn't be here-"

For a split second, anger flashed across her face as he questioned her. It was gone so quick, Polites thought he imagined it. "Relax, everything will be okay. Jump in the water and we can wash your fears away."

"Well I would, but I already died, and you know you did too."

"I would take the suffering from you." She leapt off the rock, almost freezing in the air before slipping beneath the surface. She emerged with a genuine grin, pushing wet hair away from her face.

Polites wanted nothing more than to jump in after her. And yet, he still floated at the edge of the railing. "As good as that sounds, it's just too good to be true."

"I can take the suffering from you." She spun around in the water, twirling in a tight circle as a water spout brought her up to his level.

"You stayed under ground, and we said our goodbyes." He tried to cling to logic and reasoning, but Eurydice reached out to him, cupping his face in her gentle hands.

"I will take the suffering from you." She pulled him in closer, pressing their foreheads together. She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him as if she was afraid he'd disappear. He hasn't been held like that in so long...

"I wish I could do the same for you," he said, reaching out to cup her face as tears filled his eyes.

"Won't you shelter us?" she belted, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards her. He took another step, walking through the air to follow. "Harbor me with your open arms, from the wind, the wind, the wind."

The wind. That's right; she had died in a terrible storm. The Gods themselves caught her in their wrath and tore her asunder. Poseidon wished to do the same, which was why they had sailed through such dangerous waters.

That's not her, no matter how much you wish it was.

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go..." he slipped free from her grasp, floating backwards to keep her in his sight. Her eyes filled with fear as she reached out for him, her hand phasing through his wrist this time.

"Don't leave me again!" she begged grabbing the railing to hoist herself up. She crawled towards him on the deck, the illusion beginning to fall apart around them, but she stayed the same. A perfect replica. "Wait for me! I'm comin'. Wait I'm comin' with you," she reached out, lacing their fingers together.

This wasn't right. This wasn't real. He took a step back, and she held on tighter, utter desperation clear in her voice, "I'm coming, wait for me! We hear the walls repeating!"

She wasn't real...

"The fallin' of our feet and it sounds like drummin'!"

Polites doubled over, hands over his ears as tears began to flow. He shook his head, "You're not her!"

"And we are not alone," she sang, her voice invading every thought. "You hear the rocks and stones, echoing our song!"

She sounded so desperate, so pleading, Polites could barely stand it. And then a blood curdling scream shattered what was left of the twisted mirage.

~~~

Polites was back on the deck. He supposed he always had been, but it had all felt so real... until it hadn't.

Eurylochus had stabbed a siren straight through the tail as it crawled towards Odysseus. It looked exactly like Penelope, yet he never so much as flinched when she was skewered right before his eyes.

The crew had caught the rest of the sirens in large nets and threw them on the deck carelessly. They writhed and flopped around, tangling themselves in the net and with each other. Elpenor wrenched the Eurydice siren away from him, despite his pleading protests.

"Whoever she is, it's not her! You're fucking dead and she still tried to kill you!" he hissed as he wrestled her down, allowing Perimedes to pin her to the deck with a spear through her tail.

"No wait!" he called out helplessly, but a voice from behind stopped him in his tracks.

"He has a point Polites," Odysseus said as Eurylochus cut him free with a swift slice at the mast. "They don't care if you're dead or alive; they only want one thing. Isn't that right?" he asked, addressing the Penelope siren and lifting her chin with the tip of his sword.

"We're sorry, we'll let you pass! Please spare us, and we can all be on our way!" she tried to bargain for their lives. Odysseus stood emotionless and unwavering.

"Why, so you can kill the next group of sailors who dare to pass by? Yeah, I don't think so," he said, stalking closer, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. "We saw what you did with the last crew. You would've killed every last one of us and stripped our bones clean."

"But that didn't happen! So just-"

"No, it didn't happen because I refused to let it," he spoke in a low, dark tone. Polites had never seen Odysseus look so determined and angry. And yet... there was a sick satisfaction underneath it all.

Odysseus stood up to his full height, yelling out for all to hear, "I'm done granting mercy to those who don't deserve it!" The crew burst into loud cheers, yelling out their agreement and support. "We're through suffering at the hands of monsters like you!" The war cries grew louder, they raising their swords in the air, beating their chests. Polites stood in shock, unable to move.

"This ends here and now!" The men whooped and hollered, and Odysseus had to raise his voice even louder to be heard over them. "Cut off their tails! Throw their bodies back in the water, let them drown," he ordered, and the sirens immediately began wailing and pleading.

"What? No, you can't! Odysseus, please don't do this!" Polites tried to reason with his friend, but he refused to listen.

"If I don't, they'll kill everyone. On our ship, and the next, and the next. I'm ending this now, whether you like it or not," he held firm in his decision as the slaughter began. Polites could only watch on in absolute horror at the scene before him.

"That's not your friend, that's not my wife, and that damn sure isn't my sister," he spat as he pointed to each imposter.

All Polites could hear were earth shattering screams and ear piercing shrieks. Swords swung through the air and came crashing down on the deck, sending blood splattering every direction. The sirens crawled over each other as they tried to escape, getting trapped in the nets and choking themselves as they tried to force their way to safety. They amputated their own limbs as they failed to squeeze through the nets, the rope cutting through their skin and flesh like water. Fully formed arms and hands splattered against the deck in a bloody shapeless mass. Their tails laid limp and gelatinous once severed from their bodies, and the sirens began to morph and loose form. Blood, as well as a clear, viscous liquid spilled from their wounds, and their bodies deflated and flopped around lifelessly, slowly becoming nothing more than vaguely human shaped water sacks.

"See Polites? They were never human," Odysseus spoke calmly, as if that would put him at ease; as if that was the point, as if any of that mattered.

The carnage spilled over the deck was inhuman, but that didn't make it any less wrong.

"You think that's the problem? That they weren't human?" Polites asked, barely above a whisper. He stared at the twitching, moaning blobs on the deck as his friends kicked and shoved their bodies into the ocean below. "That was brutal a-and cruel, and-"

"Justified."

Polites stared at his friend in horror. "Who are you?"

"The man who's going to get us home. No matter what the cost."

~~~

Polites was restless. He spent most of his time invisible and out of sight, but he paced constantly.

He couldn't stop thinking of the sirens.

Sure she might not have Eurydice, but she was her own person, with her own life. They all were. They probably had friends and family lurking below. What if they had been mothers. Even without a stomach, the thought made him sick.

He couldn't let himself spiral. Eurydice is safe in the underworld. She's safe and sound, underground. See? You still have a sense of humor. You're still you. And she's still safe, that wasn't her. It was someone else.

And yet, he couldn't let it go.

~~~

It was strange: no matter where he was, he could always tell when someone was looking for him. Regardless if he was on the opposite side of the ship, he could hear his name being called as clear as day. Which was why he knew Odysseus was wanting to talk to him.

"You called?"

"Yeah, I need your opinion on something," he said, eyes never leaving the map spread out before him.

"Sure. About what?" he asked, drifting over to the desk. He peered over his shoulder, scanning the path ahead. It looked like they were headed straight for...

"The sirens said the only way home was through the lair of Scylla," Odysseus confirmed his fears.

"And you believe them?" he questioned.

"They were about to kill me, they had no reason to lie."

"It's too dangerous!"

"Poseidon's worse! You weren't there, so you didn't see it first hand. But sailing on the open water would be a death sentence for every last one of us. Scylla... at least she's a gamble."

"Odysseus, I'm telling you, it's not worth the risk!"

"So you're saying I should test our luck with Charybdis?"

"No!"

"Then Scylla is our best bet. I don't know, maybe we could kill her if we just-"

"I'll do it."

"What? Polites, you can't-"

"I'm already dead, there's nothing I have to worry about. But she could kill you, or any one of our friends. And trust me, dying isn't fun!"

"I know that!"

"Then act like it!"

Odysseus gripped the edge of his desk, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what to do, and I'm scared Polites. I'm fucking terrified. That's why I need you to weigh in here."

"And I said I'll handle it!"

"Care to elaborate? 'Cause I don't like how vague that sounds."

Polites thought long and hard about the problem ahead. An idea suddenly came to him, but he didn't like it. But... it was the best chance they all had.

"Maybe I could... I don't know, posses her? And hold her off until you make it through," he suggested hesitantly. Odysseus stared at him in shock.

"You really think you could do that?"

"I possessed Eurylochus without even trying-"

"That's not the same thing!"

"I know it's not, but do you have any better ideas?"

Odysseus remained silent.

Polites let out a heavy sigh. "I know it's not... ideal. But you have to trust me on this, okay?"

"Okay," he said hesitantly, nodding slowly, "Okay," he was nodding faster now, seemingly more sure of himself and their plan. "Yeah, this could work."

Polites smiled and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, icy and cool to the touch: it felt relaxing. "It's going to."

~~~

They only had a day to prepare for Scylla. Odysseus told no one where they were going, knowing it would send them into a panic. He had considered warning Eurylochus, but after some heavy consideration, he decided against it.

Polites was nowhere to be seen, but that was pretty typical behavior now. Yet instead on remaining aboard the ship, he lurked deep below the waves. He'd recently discovered that he can travel through water as if it were air. He didn't have to worry about breathing, so he could stay for however long he wanted. But it was colder, much colder.

He was hunting. Not for food, mind you, he was hunting for something to practice on.

It took him a while, but he happened upon a great fish; slick gray with a mouth full of razors, and more than half the size of their boat. He "swam" behind it, observing it from above. Finally, he dove into it, seizing control of the massive body.

Confusion. Fear. Anger.

The shark thrashed about, dashing left to right and cutting tight circles through the water. He tried his best to calm it down and fight against the creature's natural instinct to force him out.

We just want to hunt. I'm not hurting you, we're just going to act natural. Take me where the fish are.

It seemed to listen, slowing down as its swimming pattern became less erratic. It silently guided him, and Polites sat in the back of the creatures mind, waiting to strike. Out of the vast endless blue, a shape took form. A large sword fish, chasing a school of mullet. Perfect.

Don't be scared.

Polites was in full control now, and he felt the rush as animalistic instincts kicked in. He flew through the water, striking the fish from behind. His vision went white and milky as teeth tore into flesh, ripping off a large hunk and letting the shark swallow its prey. Polites thrashed his head, biting over and over, becoming familiar with the act of possessing a beast. 

He made quick work of the swordfish.

As the feeding frenzy came to an end, Polites relinquished control, allowing the shark to regain its body and mind. It swam away in a panic, disappearing into the cobalt abyss. Polites shuddered at the thought of what other monsters lurked just beyond his sight.

~~~

They reached Scylla's lair just before noon the next day. The sky grew darker as they sailed closer, large black clouds looming overhead to block out any sunlight. Polites shared a look with Odysseus from across the deck, and the captain gave him a subtle nod. He returned the gesture and disappeared, slinking off the ship unnoticed. Being invisible was awesome.

On board the ship, Odysseus stood stoically at the wheel. He had already given out his orders, and they were to sail slow and steady straight ahead. He split the crew in half, sending one group to row while the rest of the men closed all the sails and prepared for a storm. He didn't know what they were about to face, but he knew they needed to be ready.

"You're quiet today," Eurylochus must have snuck up behind him while he was lost in thought.

"Not much to say," he answered with a shrug.

"Do you even know where we're going?"

Yes. "I'm pretty sure."

His first mate arched a brow. "Just pretty sure? That's not the Ody I know," he teased, throwing an arm around his shoulders to loosen him up a little. "You can relax, there hasn't been a storm all day. I think Poseidon has finally given up on us."

If only. "I think he's just taking the day off," Odysseus joked along. Eurylochus chuckled. Odysseus hesitated before asking, "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," he complied.

"It's gonna be pretty dark through the passage way, and we need to see what's ahead. Light up six torches and pass them out."

"Yes Sir." He turned away to go do as he was asked. Odysseus heaved a tense sigh, gripping the wheel tightly. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in years, he sent a prayer to the gods.

He prayed to Athena- for her forgiveness, to grant them all her protection and strength. To Hermes for his good fortune and speed. And to Thanatos, to please spare them for another day, and if they weren't so lucky, to make it quick and painless. He didn't know if they were listening, or if they even cared. Hermes cared, or at least he thought he did. He seems like he genuinely wants to help, even if he has a funny way of showing it. Thanatos has always been an indifferent kind of God, and he doubted he cared about the outcome either way. But Athena... he had no idea where her head was at. They left on bad terms, she said things that cut deep, and he returned the favor in full. He didn't blame her if she hated him, if she never wanted to see him again. He knew he didn't deserve her help, and yet, here he was asking.

They entered the mouth of the cave, and with each passing second, the remaining light slipped away. Soon, the torches offered the only light by which to see.

~~~

Polites had found Scylla a while ago, and she's just as monstrous as they all say. Even asleep, she was a ghastly sight: her face was gaunt and sunken with wet, stringy black hair fanned out around her. Six other heads protruded from her neck, her back, stretching and morphing itself into sickening blobs of flesh where they connected to her body. The heads themselves were sharp, almost angular in shape and resembled eels. Polites hated eels. Where she should have legs, slithering tentacles writhed amongst themselves, and from her lower stomach grew the heads of wolves, fur fusing with sickly gray scales, morphing into each other and with her.

She had no clue he was there, and he needed to keep it that way up until the last second.

Polites could see the outline of the ship come into view. One of the long necks rose into the air, taking a few long, deep sniffs. He watched as the head grew frantic, awaking Scylla and the other heads. She focused her large, black eyes on the ship and smiled. Her face nearly split in half, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. Her skin began to crack and her hair finally fell over her shoulders, concealing herself behind a curtain of black. She silently slipped into the water and Polites followed suit.

~~~

Odysseus stood as still as a statue, eyes scanning the water for any sign of Scylla, but all he could see were shapes in the darkness moving across the deck. Six held torches.

Eurylochus stood watch at the front of the ship, holding his torch higher when he thought he saw something moving in the water. The firelight reflected off the surface as he leaned over the railing, watching as something sleek and slithering dipped below the gentle lapping waves. He turned to look over his shoulder, calling out, "Captain! Something approaches..."

Before he can continue, he hears Perimedes speak up from beside him, and the utter horror in his voice makes his blood run cold. "What the fuck?"

Eurylochus whips around to face whatever it was and drops the torch in sheer terror.

"Hello."

Her voice is raspy, unnatural, like it's more than just her talking. Her massive black eyes flash white as she bares her teeth, and her neck stretches out to its full length, completely towering over the ship as the rest of the heads grow.

Odysseus stared on with a cold gaze. Now.

"Row for your lives!" he screamed the command as loud as he could, hoping to snap them out of their fear so they could get out as fast as possible.

This was the gamble of a lifetime.

One of the heads dove straight for a torch, and the deck ignites with the screams of men. But before it can clamp its jaws around anyone, it makes a sharp right turn and lunges at another head that was headed straight toward Eurylochus. He snapped out of it and picked up his torch, running away.

Huge, powerful jaws snap down on its own throat as Scylla and the affected head let out a piercing shriek.

~~~

Polites has never been more afraid. Even when he was fighting the cyclops, it wasn't as bad as this. He was dead, and yet he didn't know what she'd do to him if she ripped him out of her body. But all of that paled in comparison to the fear he had for his brothers.

The extra head was mostly thoughtless, focusing solely on an insatiable thirst for blood. Even its confusion over his presence was vague.

He saw its twin set its sights on Eurylochus and he shot forward, mouth open wide. He felt his teeth, far too many, pierce through thick, armored skin. An ungodly noise ripped free from the beast as both heads screamed. She began to writhe and squirm, and Polites felt a hand grab him by the neck, desperately clawing at him to pull him away.

"Who are you?"

Polites clamped down harder, hot blood gushing down his throat and pouring out of the sides of the monster's mouth. As the head got a taste of the blood it craved, it ripped more ferociously, guzzling the hot, thick liquid with a desperation Polites had never seen before.

When Scylla was successful in pulling him away, he jumped to the injured head and began attacking the one still in her grasp. Another painful wail echoed off the cave walls as she stumbled in the water, creating large waves. The ship struggled to navigate them without slamming against the cave walls or submerged stalagmites.

This head wasn't much different, but it had an insatiable hunger for flesh. Polites gave it exactly what it wanted, ripping off large, meaty chunks and swallowing them whole. He tore into it until he felt his teeth scraping bone. With each bite and thrust, his own wounds throbbed and oozed more blood. He grew hungrier as the beast grew weaker. When he left, it let out a gurgling death rattle and fell limp. Scylla's screams shook the cave, and rocks began falling.

He possessed the next head that tried to grab Leander, attacking another that had cornered Perimedes.

"What are you? Get out!" She was trying to tear him away by the base of her neck. Long, sharp claws dug into her own skin as she frantically tore deep, bloody gashes into herself.

Thirst.

The monstrous instinct took over and teeth puncture through scales and arteries to drink its fill, making sure to shred its prey to pieces in the process.

Hunger.

This one acts completely starved, slashing through thick muscle and bone with ease. It shook its head ferociously as it devoured its brother until its dying breath.

The other two heads were circling the boat as Scylla cried out in pain. The wolves grew anxious and angry, snarling and howling in sync with their mother's mournful wails.

Bloodlust.

It was easier by now. He knew what to expect as hot blood burst beneath the pressure of his jaws, splattering on the deck with a satisfying wet slap.

Feast.

He bit and ripped with everything he had, swallowing chunks of meat bigger than he was. Large hunks fell to the deck with disgustingly heavy thuds while others still hung on by a thick strand of tissue.

"Stop! Let go!" she commanded, but she sounded scared, frantic. The wolves sensed her unease and began fighting amongst themselves, baring their teeth and nipping at each other, until one finally tore into her own stomach. Then, they all dug in.

She screeched so loudly, the Gods themselves could hear her pain. And somewhere on her island, Circe smiled.

Polites wasn't even doing that... Okay maybe he was the first to bite her, but he didn't expect for them all to turn like that.

Tears trailed down Scylla's face and blood gurgled inside her throat as she tried to speak. Red began to drip past her lips as she struggled and gasped for air. "W-what are you?"

The question made him feel sick.

Who was she to be so horrified of him?

Finally, he slipped inside her mind to answer her question. I'm just a man protecting my friends.

"And I-I'm just trying to survive," it sounded painful for her to talk. "But... I'm tired of that. So tired." Her breath was shallow and raspy.

Polites was bombarded with glimpses of a beautiful young girl, with a rich, fulfilling life of her own. One with family and friends... a deep love and a wicked curse born from jealousy.

An immense guilt began to drown him.

She looked up at him with dull, hollow eyes, pleading, "Please... finish it. Let me rest."

With shaky hands, Polites raised her arms up and cupped her face. He closed her eyes, and with one swift jerk, she fell completely still.

~~~

Every man stood on the deck, petrified with fear. Pieces of flesh the size of boulders littered the blood soaked deck. The men themselves were drenched red, some still trembling in shock. Eurylochus felt dizzy and he dropped to his knees. He caught himself, hands resting in a sticky puddle. He lifted an arm, and the blood dripped off in thick gooey strands. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but he kept slipping, and the more panicked, the more he fell. Asterios and Elpenor rushed to his side, helping to steady him.

Polites appeared on the deck, and everyone was staring at him just as they had that first day back. He pretended like it didn't hurt.

He looked at all of them, then looked at Odysseus, frozen in complete shock.

He thought of the sirens, how they begged for their lives, how he begged for their lives. How he had looked at all of them the way they were looking at him now. And then, he bowed.

"Polites, just what the hell was that? That wasn't what we talked about!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is excessive violence only okay when you're the ones doing it?"