#if they dont do it i will be pissed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zarnzarn · 5 months ago

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part three of the reverse odyssey au! polites' pov this time, cause I thought a constantly changing motive explanation would be fun

1/2/3/4

Later, they find that it is the prayer of a terrified Elepnor clinging to the mast that saved them.

He'd called out in fear in the prayer he'd heard the most, growing from a boy of ten to a youth of twenty in the Trojan War, under Odysseus and his quick, odd prayers to his patron goddess- and half-surprised, half out of reflex, Polites had thought later by the look on the goddesses' own face-

Athena had answered.

She'd guided their ship to shore through the storm, somehow, and then stood at the wheel, taller than anyone Polites had ever seen, straight-backed and proud. Staring at them all as they slowly got to their feet, bowing and muttering prayers under their breath as they prostrated, more than half of them trembling in fear.

They'd all known their captain was blessed by the Goddess of Wisdom, in a way that was more than a mere touch or grey eyes. All known the way he'd sometimes stop talking and stare into the distance, and bark out orders for a convoluted, twisted, wonderful plan after.

Polites had known it was something more the day his friend had stumbled out of the forest all those years ago, silent as an owl and grin sharper than it used to be. Eyes no longer Hermes' kaleidoscope-amber ones that hurt to look at, but a gleaming silver that struck you still where you stood to listen.

But this was still more terrifying than any battle they'd ever faced.

(He saw so much of Odysseus in her, even standing still, that it hurt.

They had been so close.)

"Owl Lady!" Telemachus cheers, and runs out from behind his mother's skirts to the Goddess of War. Penelope makes an aborted movement towards him, dredging up some mortification beyond the haunted expression on her face (if only they'd had one moment more, to grab each other's hands even a little, if she'd just grabbed at him tightly, if they hadn't forgotten to get rid of that accused windbag-) at the way Telemachus runs to Athena with even less fear than his father had, grinning wide up at her as he hugs her shins in greeting.

"Telemachus," She says, bemused and fond. Her voice is... familiar, actually. Polites can't place it for a second, until Penelope makes an odd choking sound next to him and memory assaults- of Odysseus running around shouting with joy after his son's birth, proudly showing him off to everyone around as if he looked anything more than a raisin, Penelope tiredly laughing as she lay against the pillows. Of him suddenly pausing and turning to the strange cloaked woman in the corner and dragging her out into the light to gently hand her his son.

"Odysseus," she'd hissed, sounding panicked, yet he'd just laughed and shifted her hands to support Telemachus' head. Polites and Penelope had frowned at each other, confused, but Odysseus had only teased the woman about a newborn baby being the thing to scare her and offered them no explanations, and what the fuck, that had been Athena.

Penelope's eye twitches a little bit, some of the heartbreak clearing up in her face in favour of a strong wish for strangulation. Polites empathized. What was wrong with Odysseus.

She stares at them now, expectant, and Polites realises what she's waiting for the same moment her lips curl into a sneer of rage. Shit, right, she and Odysseus had had some sort of falling out after the cyclops-

"So," She says, dangerously low. "Does the King of Ithaca think himself more powerful than the Goddess of Wisdom, that he spurns my presence in such a way? Or-"

"He's been taken by Poseidon."

Polites doesn't know the words come from him until Athena swivels her head around to face him.

Oh fuck.

He takes a shuddering breath as he pushes himself to his feet. Glances out to the side and feels his heart drop at the unfamiliar waters, so far away from-

He turns back to Athena and gathers his courage. "Poseidon appeared before us, one year ago. Demanded reparations for the hurt we dealt to the cyclops, his son."

"So then why target-" Athena cuts herself off, teeth gnashing. Her hair starts rising, even though there's no breeze, feathers appearing across her visible skin. "I had rescinded my blessings from him! For this very reason, so Poseidon wouldn't-"

She stops talking with a hiss, pinching the bridge of her nose in barely contained fury. Polites' breath catches. She'd taken her blessings back- to protect Odysseus, of course, her feud with Poseidon was well-known to everyone and anyone, so the ocean god wouldn't take it out on her favoured.

Did Odysseus know that, Polites wants to ask her, remembering the absolute mourning devastation on his friend's face for that one day before it all went to shit, but knows it won't help anyone.

He swallows and continues. This part is going to anger her beyond anything, he knows. "Poseidon cursed him into a creature of the sea," He says cautiously, watching strange colors dance across her armour in her growing anger, looking less and less like a woman as he spoke, eyes glowing fire-hot. "His legs melted and turned into the tail of a fish, and he no longer could breathe above land, so we had to put him in the sea. And-"

His throat closes up, and the sailors around wince back, gathering Telemachus and pulling each other away from the wheel, knowing what's about to come.

"And?" Athena says, deceptively calm, as she watches them stumble away from her.

Polites gulps and feels tears run down his face as he says it. "And he ripped out his tongue."

Athena screams.

After they've all wiped the blood from their ears and eyes and huddled down in the belly of the ship, holding onto each other until they've stopped trembling-

They're going to write songs about that scream, Polites thinks vaguely, staring up at the wood. His hands still are shaking. The rage of Athena will be recorded for the ages, in songs and poems and books.

Still, he can't bring up any secret resentment against her for nearly killing them- he felt the same, that first day, when he'd found the bloody tongue on the deck and had vomited over the side of the ship, sobbing.

Odysseus, his silver-tongued friend, wisest of the Greeks, able to talk his way out of anything, tongueless. An unimaginable cruelty, especially to the favourite of Athena.

Although, that was probably why, wasn't it.

They all stiffen as the door creaks and Athena ducks to walk inside. Someone whimpers. Polites doesn't blame him.

She looks at them with Odysseus' eyes, staring around at them once more with a blank expression.

"The continuation of this quest will ruin your kingdom," She says simply, and Polites barely holds back five different protests that will get them all killed.

Penelope stands up, walking to the front. "I will not abandon my husband." She raises her chin, meeting the Goddesses' gaze without fear. "Not ever."

Athena rolls her eyes. Eurylochus chokes, and Polites has to hold back some hysterical mix of a laugh and bursting into tears. Gods, she acts just like him.

"I did not expect you to," She says dryly. "But it will take years, and you can't expect Ithaca to finance your search for that long without a ruler."

Penelope's expression wavers, voice cracking to a whisper. "Years?"

Athena looks remorseful at least when she nods. "Years," She says kindly. Someone puts their head into their hands, but Polites can't tell who, because his vision is blurring out with tears. "He has been blown to the far eastern shores, where the sands stretch over a land a thousand times the size of Sparta. It will take a year alone for him to make it back to the ocean, and Poseidon will fight to keep him away from you all. And by then-"

She closes her eyes and purses her lips, swaying back like someone has dealt her a physical blow. "By then," she continues, steeling herself back to untouchable Goddess. "He will have been of the wild waters for so long that he will be little more than an animal. You will have to catch him, with nets and boats and ropes- and then find a way to bring him back to normal."

They are silent for a while.

"So be it," Eurylochus says, standing up and placing a hand on Penelope's shoulder. He nods to the Goddess, even though he's close enough that Polites can feel him shaking to do it. "What would you counsel us to do for Ithaca in the meantime, Goddess?"

"Ctimene has an equal claim to the throne, as does Penelope," Athena muses. Polites starts and feels the men murmur. Still, who would argue with-

"How will Ctimene rule, though?" Someone pipes up. Nevermind, then. Clearly, Odysseus took everyone's common sense with him when he was rolled off the side of the ship.

Eurylochus snorts before Athena can answer, turning around with a wry smile. "Odysseus may have won us the Trojan War," he tells the lackwitted man. "But never has he once won a single fucking fight with his sister in all the time I've known them. She is a terrifying woman."

Polites feels a laugh slip from him before he can stop it. "She's your wife."

Eurylochus nods grimly. "And I am scared."

"She is rather... shrill." Athena agrees, mouth curling in distaste. "Still, she and you can rule when Penelope is on the waters and the kingdom will not suffer for it. But you cannot both abandon Ithaca to possible invaders."

Penelope sobs and quickly tries to muffle it with a hand, screwing her eyes closed. Polites puts his hand on hers, trying to be reassuring even though his own chest aches. Years.

They will do it, he knows. But still.

"You will find food to eat on these shores," Athena says, turning around. "Ithaca is twelve days west from here."

"Where are you going?" Telemachus pipes up.

A smile props up on Athena's face, small and lacking joy. Cunning and cruel. She still feels so much like Odysseus. "I was dealt a great insult," She tells the child. "And I must return my reply to it."

When they set out the next morning, all the fish in the waters are floating at the surface, dead.