#peisistratus of pylos

[doloneia]

i cant believe homer invented the “and there was only one bed” trope in 800 BCE when telemachus and peisistratus of pylos go on a month-long coming of age journey together and bond over their shared grief over what they’ve lost in a war they were too young to remember anything before and they’re so close telemachus is nudging peisistratus awake with his foot at 2am and peisistratus isn’t even bothered by it he just goes “ughhh 5 more minutes.” hey did i mention there was only one bed

[maxdurden]

Braved by your Heart's Resolve

so i wrote what was supposed to be a one shot but is very clearly just the first chapter of a telemachus/peisistratus fanfic

i was inspired by this post by @majesnia. i don't know what happened but i was suddenly struck down by a telestratus hyperfixation and when i woke up from my fugue state this was on my laptop

read it on ao3 here!

Story: Braved by your Heart's Resolve

Characters: Telemachus of Ithaca, Peisistratus of Pylos, Athena, Polycaste of Pylos, Nestor of Pylos, Thrasymedes of Pylos

Pairing: Telemachus/Peisistratus

The sea pushed gently at Pylos’ shores, lazy and content and tinged a wine-dark red under the sun’s light. Small streams of blood ran along the sandbanks, only to be lapped up by the waves where they met. The shores were crowded with thousands of bodies, men and women bustling from place to place, or dancing, or praying. The roar of the crowd, the lowing of anxious bulls and the death cries of their peers, drowned out the usual sounds of the ocean which filled the coastal city.

Fires dotted the beach for those who had brought sacrifices to burn them, only preparing their own dinners after they had proved their piety. In the most crowded parts of the shoreline bodies jostled against one another, not more than a breath away from the next man. It was a sweaty, bloody, and euphoric event. The night before, seers and priests had foreseen that the festivities would be a successful and peaceful affair. Now, wine and blood stained the feet of the Pylians and Poseidon was pleased.

From where he sat, Peisistratus was well removed from the crowded realities of the festivities below. Fine blankets had been carefully laid over the sandbanks where his family was now seated, their banquet already awaiting them when they had arrived. King Nestor had given his libation and prayers first. He had stood atop the tallest sandbank and, only then, the shore had fallen into a comfortable silence as his booming voice rang out over the heads of his subjects. Faces had turned to him like plants did to the sun, their warrior king: an Argonaut first and then an Achaean hero at Troy, the great charioteer. Even the crashing waves on the beach had become hushed at his words.

“Hear me, Poseidon, tamer of horses and savior of ships,” Even in his old age, Nestor stood tall. There was no hunch to his back which so often overcame men of his age, nor any waver in his voice. His gray beard did not make him look old so much as it made him look wise. It was the kind of old age that so many young men envied even long before their joints started to grow stiff. “Bring our prayers to pass, be kindly in heart. Swell our spacious sails and protect those who travel the barren sea. Bring honor and glory with prosperous gales to Pylos.”

Thrasymedes, the eldest of his sons, spoke then. He was afforded some of the attention that his father had been, but the excitement of the festivities pulled many people away. He had the same prominent nose which graced the features of his fathers and brothers, large and bent not unlike the beak of an eagle when examined from the side. Despite his princely features, he had not the same commanding presence as his father. He, too, had fought in the Trojan war and many Pylians were proud to call him their prince. One day, he would be king. For this reason alone, many stayed to hear his prayer, eyes lifted to him in quiet reverence.

By the seventh and last prayer, all eyes had turned away. Peisistratus spoke his words to the sea god alone, knowing that the only eyes watching him were his family’s and, even still, some of them were restless to move on. Thasymedes’ son, only just reaching his tenth year, snaked a hand toward a plate piled high with cheeses only to have his arm slapped away by his mother.

Peisistratus prayed for good fortune, and for the safety of their merchants on the barren sea as his father had before him. Quietly, between only himself and Poseidon, he prayed for some kind of excitement. He prayed that he might be given a chance to sail on the barren sea himself, before his father paid the dowry of some noble bride for him. They were childish things to pray for, but Peisistratus hoped he might be forgiven for them all the same. He didn’t dare utter the words aloud.

When he lapsed into silence, his family took it as permission to begin eating. Gold and jewels which adorned the pale-armed wives of his brothers flashed in the sunlight as everyone reached for their wine, the meat, and the figs.

“These festivities were more fun when we were younger.” Polycaste leaned over to Peisistratus. She was his sister, and the closest in age of any of his siblings. They were both born only a few years before Helen of Sparta had been spirited away to Troy. The festivities which they remembered most fondly had been held in the absence of their father, and without the eldest of their brothers as well.

During those years, they had prayed that Poseidon would return their kin to them quickly once the war was over. Even now, the memories were fuzzy and distant. Peisistratus remembered the grasping hands of nurses, trying to rein him in during the long feast, and the distant look in his mother’s eyes as she gazed out to sea. He remembered breaking away from the watchful eyes of adults with Polycaste and splashing in the bloodstained sea.

“We always stained our clothes.” He remembered, shaking his head, but a smile tugged at his lips at the memory. Blood, even diluted as it was by the sea, still painted their chitons a dull and ugly brown once they dried.

“We always kept each other entertained.” Polycaste corrected him. She had the same dark hair as the rest of their siblings, framing her face in delicate curls. The finely woven shawl which hung loosely around her shoulders, dyed a rich blue, was a clear sign that she was of noble birth. Even the cool breeze from the sea could not chase off the summer heat, and no shawl was necessary to keep warm. But, all the women who sat with them now wore one, being princesses or the wives of princes.

Peisistratus hummed in agreement. “It was better than hearing for the thousandth time about Poseidon showing his strength at Ilium.” He whispered. If his father or brother overheard, they were sure to be furious.

Polycaste just laughed.

The sun made its slow arc along the sky. Festivals were a time of reverie for those allowed to enjoy them, but for the royal family they were just another banquet. For the common people, who spent the day dancing in ecstasy and eating the meat which had been slaughtered, it must have been a joyous occasion. For Peisistratus, it wasn’t unlike the banquets which his family held with grating regularity.

He daydreamed for most of it. Tomorrow he would be expected to return to his duties as captain to their languishing legions of soldiers—An entire restless generation, raised on stories of their fathers fighting at Troy. Perhaps if he had earned the position at their head he may have looked forward to his work, but it had been handed to him as had so many other things. Instead, his mind wandered to some life wholly imagined. It was hardly his own fault that he had been raised on stories of Argonauts and heroes like King Theseus and Perseus, for whom one of his brothers was named. None of them, aside from Thrasymedes, had been so lucky to have even a taste of adventure like the heroes of their stories.

The afternoon sun had been beating down on them relentlessly by the time a breathless herald kneeled in front of the fine blankets on which Peisistratus’ family sat.

“Eighty-one sleek black bulls, my king.” He reported the count of all which had been sacrificed. It was an impressive sum, to be sure. Four more than the year previous, and six more than the year before that. The number had only risen in the decade since Nestor’s return. Pylos itself, and Messenia beyond, poured forth its excess in thanks for his homecoming.

“Thank you.” Nestor gave a gracious bow of his head. “Now, don’t disrespect our dark-haired lord by scorning his festivities for work.”

The words were said like a reprimand, but there was a smile in the tone of his voice. The herald, still a young man with no hair on his chest, dared one glance at his king. His smile was bright like the sun and he nodded wordlessly before turning back to the festivities. Peisistratus watched as his feet kicked sand up behind them and he disappeared into the crowd beyond the sandbanks.

“Who is that?” Polycaste’s hand rested gently on Peisistratus’ shoulder, jolting him back to the present moment. He turned his head to look at her, and then followed her dark eyes to the figure which had stirred her curiosity.

A young man, no older than Peisistratus, was making his way up the beach. His reddish-brown hair was wild with sea wind, the look of a sailor coming home from a long journey. It was not a color of hair common in Pylos. His face was serious like that of a man on a mission, but fine and handsome in the way of princes. He was no one Peisistratus had ever seen before.

By his side was an older man, though there was something strange about his posture. He spoke in the young man’s ear, gray eyes burning with an intensity that unnerved Peisistratus, even from this distance.

“I do not know.” He admitted, curiosity burning in his chest. Without another word, he leaned forward to pour another golden cup of wine and stood. At the very least, it would be a travesty should his family not properly greet this newcomer.

The sand was hot under his feet as he approached the pair. The older man, having finished his scolding, turned his attention to Peisistratus. He felt his heart leap into his throat under his fiery gaze.

Behind him, his family had caught sight of the newcomers as well. They waved, fine fabrics fluttering in the wind with the motion. Peisistratus took hold of the strangers’ hands, pulling them toward where the fine throws had been laid out for his family. The young man’s hand was warm and soft, lighter in complexion than even Peisistratus’ own. The hand of a prince, he thought.

“Welcome, strangers.” As much as he may have wanted to address the younger man, Peisistratus spoke only to the older of the two. It would have been dishonorable to treat him dismissively. “Have you yet offered your prayers to Poseidon? That is for whom this festivity is being held.” He explained, offering the golden cup to the older man as they sat on the fleecy throw. “Once you’ve said your prayer and offered your libation, share this hearty wine with your companion so he can do the same.”

Placing the cup of spiced wine in the hands of the old man, Peisistratus felt some kind of jolt go through him. It was not unpleasant, like the feeling when some metal object unexpectedly zapped his fingers when he reached out, but was warm. The feeling was overwhelming, though, and something about the toothy grin of the older man made Peisistratus feel like the earth might swallow him up.

When the moment passed without calamity, and the old man began to say his prayers, Peisistratus turned his attention to the younger man. He startled, being met with two dark, brown eyes fixed on his. There was an intensity in the younger man, too, but it was more human. There was a weight to his stare, and it reminded Peisistratus of the first time he had seen his father after returning from Anatolia. It was the first memory of Nestor which Peisistratus had. His dark eyes and the weight that came with them. He had been young still, then, but in one glance his father had measured up the entire life he had lived in his absence. Great men had stares like that, he had concluded.

In his prayer, the old man gave the name of his travel companion: Telemachus. He prayed for safe passage home, and a swift resolution to some mission. As the old man poured his libation and passed along the wine, Peisistratus suddenly felt light headed. Poseidon had heard his prayer, silent as it may have been.

Telemachus repeated the prayer. Even when his words were echoes of another, they were captivating. His voice was clear and confident. A gift for speech like that was not given to common men. Peisistratus busied himself with preparing prime cuts for their guests. It was customary that they should be fed first. Curiosity chafed at him, but questions had to be saved. Even when it came time for asking them, it would not be left up to Peisistratus to speak. It was clear that guests such as these needed to be addressed by Nestor himself.

Mouths filled with food meant a lull in the conversation. Polycaste leaned around Peisistratus to get a better look at the handsome stranger. He knew his sister well, and the way she gathered courage to glance at him for only a moment didn’t escape his notice. He was kingly and handsome, sure to be a fine marriage match regardless of his lineage, and far more interesting than the throngs of Pylian nobility which had vied for Polycaste’s hand in marriage since before she could fully grasp the concept. Peisistratus could not begrudge her fascination.

And yet, whenever he looked over toward the stranger, his eyes were still fixed on him. Each time, Peisistratus hurriedly redirected his gaze, either to the ground or his food. It felt as though he was being scrutinized. Suddenly, his every movement felt arduous as he fretted over the right way to act. The newcomer should have been focused on Nestor, the other great man in their retinue, or perhaps even Thrasymedes. If the prince’s mind was preoccupied with thoughts similar to Polycaste’s, surely he should have been looking at her. It baffled Peisistratus that he should be the focus of any attention.

“Now that we’ve all enjoyed a hearty meal, my only interest is in our guests.” King Nestor spoke. Peisistratus watched his father smile graciously, a look which fit well on his worn face. The set of his wrinkles gave the impression that he had smiled often in his life. Even now, he was far from the dour old king one might expect. “What brings you to Pylos’ shores? Have you set off to trade your wares with our own merchants? Or perhaps you are pirates, here to risk your lives stealing our gold?”

Peisistratus could have told his father that he was wrong. He wondered if Nestor was playing some game with his guests, already aware that they were more than common houseguests. It did not seem like his father to be caught unaware.

For the first time, when Peisistratus glanced in the strangers’ direction, the younger of the two was not looking at him. Now, his steady gaze was fixed on the king of Pylos. “Nestor, son of Neleus,” His words were poised and well chosen. It was a sign of respect, to show he knew who his host was. Winged-words, Peisistratus had heard them called. Words chosen for men by gods who walked with them. His eyes slowly trailed over to the man sitting beside Telemachus, intense gray eyes burning in Nestor’s direction, now. “I am Telemachus of Ithaca, son of King Odysseus.”

At this, a hush rippled out from the fine blankets where they sat. Around them, the festivities were still. Odysseus’ fame was widespread. Many a night Nestor had regaled their banquets with stories of his clever brother in arms, raider of cities—The man who had devised the Trojan Horse, pride of the Achaean people.

“I’m seeking the truth about him. I wish to know his fate, wretched as it may have been. Many heroes were lost at Troy, but their stories are well-worn, now. We know of their resting places and how they came to meet their fate. The same is not true for my father. I only wish to know what you know about what became of him after the war.”

The world held its breath while he spoke. Polycaste rested her hand on Peisistratus’ while they heard his plea. One glance told Peisistratus all he needed to know about his sister’s feelings. Her eyebrows were pushed together in gentle concern, her wide eyes transfixed on the prince of Ithaca. She was enamored with him already. It was hard not to feel the same.

“Telemachus!” Nestor bellowed, face alight. He almost looked youthful in his excitement. “Now, there is a name I know well. Your father used it to identify himself among our ranks. Never was he Odysseus, son of Laertes, only Odysseus, father of Telemachus. And what a man you have become! Back then you were only a child.”

Peisistratus braced himself, for he knew what would come next. “You call back such memories…”

Nestor was not a bad storyteller. Peisistratus often wished that he had grown up with his father, being told of his time aboard the Argo or the story of his fight with Ereuthalion. But, being a young man now, and having heard the stories a million times, they began to lose their luster. Peisistratus settled down for what he was sure to be a long-winded answer to Telemachus’ relatively simple request.

No one knew of the fate of Odysseus. That was all that Peisistratus had ever heard on the matter.

Instead of saying as much, Nestor began with tales of the war at Ilium. He told of his friendship with Odysseus, about which Peisistratus had heard time and time again. Briefly, as Nestor commented on the Myrmidon’s return to Phthia, Peisistratus felt the weight of Telemachus’ gaze return to him. Determined to ignore it, he set his eyes on the ornate cup of wine in front of him. The gold was beaten thin, the scene of a bull hunt embossed on the outside by some expert craftsman. His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Polycaste bumping against him, giggling quietly to herself.

“He’s looking this way.” She whispered.

Beside her, their older brother, Aretus, shot them a sour look. Interrupting their father had always been akin to blasphemy, to him. Peisistratus glanced quickly in the prince’s direction, only to meet his eyes again. This time it was not him who averted his gaze, but Telemachus. He returned his focus to Nestor as if nothing had happened. Peisistratus took a moment to study him; the fine, straight line of his aristocratic nose, the way his hair looked more red in the sun than it did in the shade, his fan of thick eyelashes.

He tore his eyes away in time to hear his father say, “And you, my friend, you’ve grown to be tall and handsome yourself. Someday the gods will give you reason enough to be sung about, as well.”

The smile Telemachus shared at this praise was sheepish, almost shy. It was a crack in his facade. For a moment, he was not a shining prince, blessed by the gods, but just a boy, barely a man. Suddenly he was far more like Peisistratus. His age was easier to see, then, too. His inexperience and uncertainty peeking through for only a moment. He commended Nestor on his stories and then said, “If only the gods would visit me with such bravery. I would have happily taken revenge on the lawless suitors which crowd my hall at home. But the gods have different plans. For now, I must bear it.”

“I recall hearing about such a thing.” Nestor said. Peisistratus remembered hearing about it, as well. Politics and gossip often bled together in their halls. The stories of Queen Penelope and the ravenous suitors hoping to marry her were discussed by the nobles of the palace and whispered about by serving girls. Some tittered at the thought of so much attention, but most blanched at the thought of the impossible situation in which the Queen of Ithaca was trapped. “Do you allow your home to be abused?” It was not an accusatory question, but it may have come off as one. “If only the battle loving daughter of Zeus chose to love you like she did your father. Never have I seen an immortal show mortals such affection as Pallas openly showed him. If she stood by you, I am certain the suitors would flee your high-roofed halls.”

“Never, your majesty.” Telemachus’ response was quick, and came with a force with which he had not yet spoken. Peisistratus blinked in surprise. “I fear that will never come to pass. I am not my father.”

Humility was not something valued by their people, Peisistratus knew. Telemachus only said the words because he believed them, but to believe them seemed preposterous. Some ugly feeling settled in the Pylian prince’s chest. If he had the aid of the gods like Telemachus so clearly did, he never would have spurned it. If he had been sent on some mission by Pallas Athena herself he would have honored her for the rest of his days.

The gods walked with some men. Nestor spoke about how much love Athena lavished on Odysseus, but he had been the favorite of several deathless ones in his time. Heroes, those men were called, and Peisistratus had known Telemachus as one from the moment he saw him. And here he had the gall to act as if he were common. Some sour thing clawed at Peisistratus’ throat. Telemachus was the only son of a great king, clearly loved by the gods, and off on his own adventure. He had no knowledge of what it meant to be common. To be the youngest of six princes with no hopes for inheriting a kingdom or forging a legacy. He had no way to know what it felt like to see the face of an older brother he barely remembered cast in bronze and to wish to be him, to be remembered. No, Telemachus was not common. It was an insult for him to pretend to be.

“Telemachus!” The older man seemed to agree. He chastised the prince, those gray eyes fiery with disapproval. “You sound like a fool, doubting the gods and their plans.” He warned gravely. “I would rather wander for ten long years on the sea and come home to my loving wife and son than be murdered as King Agamemnon was.”

“Mentor,” Telemachus said, finally giving the old man a name. “Let’s not speak of my father’s return.” There was a pain in his voice, strained and tired, which suggested they had discussed it before. “What of Menelaus, King Nestor? Where was he when his brother was in such distress?”

More stories were to come. Nestor was happy to provide them. Once he had started to speak, telling the tale of King Menelaus’ long journey home from Troy, Telemachus’ eyes slid back towards Peisistratus. It was only then, when those deep brown eyes met his and Telemachus’ brow furrowed with concern, that Peisistratus realized he had been glaring. Hastily, he turned away.

As Nestor spoke, the sun sank lower in the sky. By the time he was finishing his tale, darkness had settled over them. Fires burned distantly, keeping the shore well-lit. “You should go, by ship or by land, to Lacedaemon. You can question King Menelaus yourself, press him for the whole truth. If you go by land my sons are at your service, as well as a chariot and a full team.” He promised.

“We must be on our way.” It was Mentor who spoke, not the young prince. Peisistratus could still feel his eyes on him. “You’ve told us such good stories, your majesty. But we had better think of sleep, returning to our sleek ships now that night has fallen.”

“I won’t have it!” Nestor was quick to reply. He looked aghast at the idea of sending the guests back to their ships for what would certainly be a restless night’s sleep. “You shouldn’t have to resort to sleeping on your ship while my house is so near. I won’t allow the son of my good friend Odysseus to bed down on a ship, not while I’m alive or my sons are left at home.”

“You’re right.” Mentor smiled, the same too-bright smile he had worn when Peisistratus had offered him wine. “Telemachus should oblige you.” He decided for the prince. “Let him follow you to your halls and sleep there. I’ll return to our ship and maintain order. The crew is full of young men, prone to folly. If he so pleases, Telemachus can go by chariot to the halls of King Menelaus, one of your sons can guide him along the way.”

There was the flutter of wings then and by some miracle an eagle took flight from behind the old man. Sitting where they did atop the throws, each of Nestor’s sons and their wives stared with wide eyes. Peisistratus suddenly felt the same lightheadedness he had earlier when he had spoken to the old man. A goddess, walking among them. Silent awe overtook them and, once again, Peisistratus fixed Telemachus with an incredulous stare. He had not only the favor of a god, but one who accompanied him.

“Dear boy, you have nothing to fear!” Nestor cried out in excitement. Peisistratus wondered if this was the first time he had seen the deathless daughter of Zeus since Troy. “It is clear that the gods favor you.” Quickly, he raised his head toward the heavens, where the eagle had disappeared, and said a quick prayer.

Peisistratus stared at the dark night sky where he’d last caught sight of the eagle’s wings. To himself, again, he said a small prayer: Glorious goddess, should his father choose a son to accompany Telemachus, let it be him.

[dearestaeneas]

WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday!!)

my beloved @figsandphiltatos tagged my main in this and i think it’s such a fun idea!! check out their stuff, they’re currently working on a retelling of the Telemachy from Peisistratus’ perspective!!! and it’s so good!!!!! go read their work!!!!!<333333

i haven’t worked on much over the holidays, but i did spend the majority of nanowrimo working on the same piece! i’m almost scared to finish hh so sometimes i fear i’ve been dragging it out to avoid the inevitable (but also, i’m still having fun, DAMMIT. who would complain since i’m still using it to build characterizations and relationships? it’s GOOD. i’m having FUN.)

here’s one of the more recent updates of hh!<3 i was on the fence about introducing Lux (because spoilers?), but i just...fell in love with him immediately. introducing him alone is why i’m also deciding that maybe i’m not ready to start the process of finishing abc yet!

tagging @wikipedie @coffee-laytte-two and @courtjester69420 (although, no pressure!!!!)

happy last out of touch thursday of the year!

--

The Old God groaned. Todd rarely stayed Backstage without Branwen present, but he’d insisted she go ahead without him. It pained both him and the Old God to see her so distressed, and her lack of resistance was in itself a cause for concern. Todd stepped forward and held the Old God by their shoulders.

“Mmmrgh.” Tell me.

“I wasn’t lying,” the Old God protested. “Ardan being here is a good thing, and he does adore that girl. Her and Celeste, and you. There’s nothing any of you need me to say about it.”

The world melted away. Grays of all shades dripped from the iron wrought furniture and the cafe’s front. The black of the cobble stone itself seemed to be receding away from the pair, being replaced with soft browns and reds, before disappearing altogether. The Old God stood facing Todd as trees seemed to spring from nowhere and grow up thousands of feet to scratch the sky. The Old God squinted against the deep greens and browns of the forest, as if a light had been shined directly into their eyes. In the distance the sound of waves lapping a beach roared.

Where Todd had stood was a short whose skin was the same light brown as Ardan’s. Her eyes and hair were the same shade of black, and her canines were far too sharp when she smiled joylessly.

“Where are we?”

“If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine,” she said, letting go of the deity and making a show of brushing her hands off on her trousers. “I know someone who will.” With this, she turned and began off toward the waves.

Although the Old God was a monochrome idol in this place, they felt a color they didn’t have drain from their face. “Todd, not them!”

She spun around to face them. “Why? You know, he would really be an excellent ally to have! Sure, he couldn’t care less about the New Gods, but he loves Branwen. Do you really think he’d let anyone do anything that could hurt his little golden girl?” Todd’s voice dripped with a dare to be challenged. “I think he’d want to know if something was happening, since he can’t afford to keep tabs on her anymore, don’t you think?”

The Old God seethed. “Todd!”

She resumed her purposeful march to the beach, the Old God trailing behind her. They stopped right at the treeline, watching as Todd held her arms out as she walked toward the man.

He stood on a flat, gray outcropping at the beach’s edge, the water lapping up onto the rock to darken its corners. He looked over his shoulder toward the forest at the sound of Todd’s steps crunching on the sand. Upon seeing her, his face brightened, a feat which should have been impossible as the god cast a bright glow on everything around him. “My darling!” He shouted, voice booming over the waves. The Old God shuddered at the sound and concealed themselves behind a particularly thick tree.

“Lux!” Todd squealed as he lifted her into the air after closing the distance between them with imperceptible speed. He finally set her back down and held her face in his strong hands. She squinted slightly and he quickly released her apologetically, the gold of his skin having reflected directly into her eyes.

“What are you doing here, my dear?”

“I don’t want any false pretense,” Todd began. “I’m sorry this wasn’t a casual visit.”

Lux waved a hand dismissively. “There will always be time for that later.”

“I’m worried about Branwen.”

Lux’s face darkened and the sun that beat down on the beach seemed to dim. “Did that bastard hurt her? Where are they?” With this they turned from Todd to study the treeline. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

Todd reached out for his hand and turned his attention back to her. “They haven’t done anything,” she promised. “Really. But I need to talk to someone who’s always had her best interests at heart.”

The Old God strained to hear the continuation of the conversation, despite the pounding in their chest after Lux’s call. Strange, they thought in a moment of detachment. I don’t even have a heart…I don’t think.

“I try to. As much as I can,” Lux said, words laced with deep anger. “They have made it nearly impossible.”

“Lux,” Todd gripped his hand tighter. “Listen. I know you can’t watch over her like you used to because of…”

“The parasite? Todd, we’re not supposed to feed off mortals like that! What do they call her, an avatar? There’s not a single god who didn’t know she was my favorite, and they still got to feed off all that belief. I don’t even know what the Nameless One calls themselves these days, but they shut all of us out,” he said seriously. “I don’t care about the others, Todd. She was my favorite.” The sky above the beach continued to darken.

She exhaled. Really, these gods and their tempers. She wondered if she was ever this petty with her siblings. “Lux.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the sky lightening slightly. “You don’t care.”

He sighed. “What do you need?”

“You can’t see her, but you can see Celeste, right?”

The sky became completely clear, the sun beating down mercilessly. Lux brightened accordingly. “Of course! You know, I like her so much more than the last one. I’m sad to hear she’s having trouble adjusting to immortality, we need more immortals like her. But, of course, you know I like the sunny ones.”

“And…Ardan? The er, other one the Nameless One’s claimed for themselves.”

“Ah,” Lux said quietly. “Yes, I know him. Branwen likes him. That’s good.”

“Tell me why.”

“He’s in your blindspot, darling,” Lux said, resting a hand on Todd’s head. “Walk with me.” He offered an arm out to her, which she readily accepted, and the pair walked along the water’s edge.

The Old God peered out from behind their tree to follow Todd and Lux’s stroll further and further away from them. They cursed the god quietly, knowing he was well aware of where the Old God hid, despite well-acted ignorance. They watched as Todd stopped in her tracks to face Lux, his own face wearing a self-assured smile to counter her own look of horror. She stared back into the treeline, eyes locking directly with the Old God. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Todd held Lux’s forearm gratefully, her dark eyes locking with his yellow ones. “I can fix this,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You can. Now get that monster out of my domain.”

She hugged him close and his arms warmed her skin. “Next time will be one of those casual visits,” he said. She broke away and nodded before starting back toward the trees.

“And Todd?” He called behind her.

She turned. “What?”

Lux stepped forward slightly. “I want you to bring her with you when you come. Celeste too.”

Todd smiled then. “Of course.”

[phillygrilly]

Hey guys..

Drops Peisistratus/Pisistratus art and runs..

[lyculuscaelus]

Thinking about how Menelaus talked of his good old friend Odysseus in book 4 of the Odyssey

Thinking about how he would’ve offered Odysseus an Argive city and asked him to move in along with his wealth and his son and his people, how they would’ve met each other frequently, delighted in each other’s company, until death enfolded them both

Thinking about the possibility of him actually doing that after Odysseus’s return and Odysseus actually going there with his family and people. Once again Penelope would return to her homeland for a visit though oftentimes she would just chill with Helen, and Telemachus would be able to visit Pylos once in a while, and Odysseus would be thrilled to meet up with all the friends he had made during the war, Menelaus, Nestor, and especially…Diomedes. Yes, Diomedes—but as he found out his dear friend was no longer in Argos. Now what would happen if Odysseus went on another journey to seek him out, maybe taking Telemachus along perhaps Peisistratus too— (Diomedes’s exile probably didn’t happen in the Epic Cycle but nevertheless…) Anyways everybody reunites with their friends and they all happily live ever after—

I need to see this so bad.

[marida]

Papyrus CCLXXII

This papyrus dates 1st century and it contains portions of book 3 of Homer's Odyssey. On the margins you can see the scholia, aka glosses that later authors and copists added in the margins of manuscripts to let the reader know grammatical, critical, explanatory comments about the survived text.

The first four books of The Odyssey are known to scholars as "Telemacheia": they narrate the young prince's quest for information about his father as well as his own journey toward manhood. We are in the presence of the very first Bildungsroman.

The portion shown in the picture contains the last verses of the book: Telemachus departs from Pylos where king Nestor had unfortunately little information about his dad Odysseus and leaves to Sparta to king Menelaus and his wife Helen.

"So soon as early Dawn appeared, the rosy-fingered, they yoked the horses and mounted the inlaid car, and drove forth from the gateway and the echoing portico. Then Peisistratus touched the horses with the whip to start them, and nothing loath the pair sped onward. So they came to the wheat-bearing plain, and thereafter pressed on toward their journey's end, so well did their swift horses bear them on. And the sun set and all the ways grew dark."

[unhinged-waterlilly]

Nausicaa asked Telemachus to rate his pain level from 1 to 10 and he said 25 and started screaming

- @peisistratus-of-pylos

Fucking make out with him or something.

[telemachus-of-ithaca]

hey…. telemachus? - @peisistratus-of-pylos

yes?

[f0xgl0v3]

Talking about Characters from the Iliad/Odyssey that I liked a lot :3

(Alternative: I just talk about people who were on the page for like. A minute and then nothing because I really just wanted to talk about characters who weren’t like. As well known as others?)

Every day I fight the urge to talk about how much I dislike Song Of Achilles-

Okay anyways I wanna talk about characters from the like Iliad-Odyssey (sadly not Aeneid because I haven’t read that yet) that I really like because they always balance out the anger I feel when thinking about the artificial divide that had to happen between Pat and Achilles over Breisis is TSOA because-

Okay, okay aaa that’s not what this is about. If anyone wants to hear my thoughts feel free to tell me because I’d gladly give my take as someone who just kinda knows the myths and vibes with them (there’s a reason the Iliad is my favorite book)

Anyways characters/probably historical figures(??) from the Iliad/trojan war era and the odyssey that I really liked beyond like. The main crew. While I ramble note that I am just someone that likes these guys. I’m not giving amazing riveting new information. I just don’t really want to write out the SoN re-imagining nor do I want to try and revisit the Machaon and Podalirius concept work I was doing (or potentially mess around with some Ulysses dies at dawn concepts because aaa-) okay- okay,

I (obviously) like Machaon and Podalirius. Like I said I have some concept sketches of them buried in my Ibis paint somewhere. I really liked seeing them mentioned in the Iliad when they were, and the two of them just feel like an interesting concept to explore if I ever do more like. Actual mythology not just Pjo stuff here on the blog. Also this is devoid of anything but they have good character to bounce off each other and they live in my brain.

Palamedes! He’s not actually in the Iliad but was a prince who was in the Trojan war. He was the dude that had to fetch Odysseus and he’s also really interesting and I like thinking of him as the ‘straight-man’ to all of Agamemnon’s stuff before Odysseus took over the roll. I also really like his story :3

Is Sarpedon one of the more well known characters? Idk. I talk about Hector on here too so really I break my own rules but I like Sarpedon as a concept (you can tell I like a lot of these characters for the ideas they give the brain.) He’s an interesting fellow. Maybe one day I’ll actually have something insightful to say about him.

Okay Hector. I really like Hector, I like seeing him in conflict with his brother. I like the ideas and how Hector acts and how he like does stuff narratively. I like him for the same reason I like Demetrius in Midsummer nights dream. They’re both kinda just guys who have to put up with everyone around them and it’s silly. He also has the whole really big stone thing during the siege(?) of the Achaeans camps that was fun.

Now are the Odyssey guys and it’s literally just two people who caught my attention in the Odyssey.

Antinous. He was really like ahfiakfbsjjs in my mind. Between getting off the high that was reading the Iliad and being like gently laid down in the Odyssey I really liked him? He sucked don’t get me wrong, but I liked that he sucked. He was a little trash guy and I liked that, hand him over.

Peisistratus. For anyone who forgot him or doesn’t know who he is this is Telemachus’s friend and traveling buddy from Pylos. He just kinda appears at some point and I really like him. He feels scruffy in my head and I think he’s a really interesting character! Also I like the friendship between Telemachus and Peisistratus.

Also shoutout to Antilochus who I didn’t put down but he was also really fun.

Okay wow! I said literally nothing this entire post. But uh. Maybe I’ll actually post things more often about stuff like the Iliad and Odyssey? I’m obviously no like classics expert but hey. I like random people that are in my stories. Also Antinous. I genuinely didn’t think I liked him that much but now that I’m thinking about him he’s really silly- haha funny scruffy man. If anyone asks he is synonymous with the like-

This cat right there. Make it have an ego and boom. Antinous deserves like everything that’s coming to him in the Odyssey and it’s really fun to just watch him rampage

Okay I’m really tired goodnight

[peisistratus-of-pylos]

Peisistratus of Pylos

Pisistratus was the youngest son of King Nestor either by Eurydice or Anaxibia. He was the brother to Thrasymedes, Pisidice, Polycaste, Perseus, Stratichus, Aretus, Echephron, and Antilochus.

Pisistratus became an intimate friend of Telemachus, son of Odysseus, and travelled with him on his unsuccessful search for his father. Like Telemachus, Pisistratus was only a small boy when his father (and brothers Antilochus and Thrasymedes) left to fight in the Trojan War.

Age — 19

He/Him

Pansexual + Poly

Telemachus <3

Kill Count: 0

Death Count: 0

NO nsfw. though language and “dirty” jokes are allowed.

[sheakspeare]

It's week 2 of the #OdysseyReadalong2023 (sorry for the delay!), and we've read books 3 & 4. I'm gonna leave some prompts for discussion about Book 3 below. 💙🌊

🌊 — King Nestor

In this book, Telemachus meets honest Nestor, who is “not one to tell a lie” (Od. 3-20), king of sandy Pylos (a town in Messenia, Peloponnese). For someone who values truth and honesty so much, isn't it strange how good of a friend he apparently is to Odysseus?

Nestor fought at Troy and tells Odysseus' son about his own journey in a very lengthy story. He mentions heroes like Achilles (who slayed prince Hector), Patroclus (companion of the aforementioned), Agamemnon (king of Mycenae, murdered by his wife Clytemnestra), Philoctetes (whose bow was essential in the final destruction of Troy), Menelaus (husband of Helen) and, of course, Odysseus, the cleverest of all. Out of the bunch, who is your favourite?

🌊 — Orestes and Telemachus

Speaking of Agamemnon, Nestor encourages Telemachus to take after the king's son Orestes, since he took an active role in the killing of his father's murderers, Aegisthus and Clytemnestra (his own mother). Telemachus is thus prompted to take revenge and deal with Penelope's suitors. However, Nestor wonders if Odysseus himself will return home to take his own revenge, either alone or with an army of Greeks.

Young Telemachus is still struggling to step up, though, but HE'S TRYING. In Od. 3.205-6, he says, “I wish the gods / would grant me that much power against those men”. After his disaster at the Ithacan assembly, where he spoke in front of an audience for the first time, Telemachus finds himself in an awkward position. But getting out of Ithaca and meeting his father's friends will be beneficial to his development, wouldn't you agree?

🌊 — Pirates

We also come across the very first mention of PIRATES! (Od. 3-73)

The earliest documented instances of piracy date back to the 14th century BC at the hands of the Sea Peoples who threatened the ships sailing in the Aegean and Mediterranean waters.

In antiquity, piracy was regarded as an honourable way of making a living, and peoples such as the Phoenicians Illyrians and Tyrrhenians were known as pirates. References are made to its perfectly normal occurrence in many texts, including in Homer's Iliad and Odyssey.

Did you know this “profession” was so old?

🌊 — Animal Sacrifice

We also encounter a very detailed description of animal sacrifice (in this case, bulls).

After being slayed, the animal's blood is collected and poured over the altar of the god. Then it is butchered on the spot and various internal organs, bones, and other inedible parts burnt as the deity's portion of the offering, while the meat is removed to be prepared for the participants to eat.

It was a very common practice in Ancient Greece to appease the gods. What's your instance on it? Would you have partaken in it, or would you have stood by your principles and risked having the gods against you?

🌊 — Eurydice

Nestor mentions his wife, Eurydice. Their children included Perseus, Peisistratus, Thrasymedes, Pisidice, Polycaste, Stratichus, Aretus, Echephron, and Antilochus.

However, it is an honest mistake to confuse her with the wife of Orpheus, whom he tried (and failed) to bring back from the dead with his enchanting music.

Did you make this mistake?

🌊 — Cassandra

When Nestor said, “some of us had neither sense nor morals” (Od. 3-133), he is alluding to the rape of Cassandra, the Trojan priestess

At the fall of Troy, Cassandra sought shelter in the temple of Athena, but was abducted and brutally raped by Ajax. This angered the goddess, and thus she was responsible for the death of Ajax.

The abduction of Cassandra was frequently represented in Greek works of art. Do you have a favourite?

🌊 — Athena

In my opinion, the owl-eyed goddess stood up the most in this book.

I found it so funny when she told Nestor to shut up and serve dinner after she had her fun pretending to be a mortal, making prayers and pouring libations! I also enjoyed when she turned into a vulture and left! She was bored and she peaced out!

She also told Telemachus that “the gods have blessed [him] in [his] life so far” (Od. 3.28). Do you agree with her?

And who was the most memorable character for you?

tags: @fangirlofallthefanthings

[luddlestons]

I have a new Ancient Ship and it’s called Telemachus and Peisistratus. They just give me vibes that are very LGBT. 

For those unused to my newfound Homeric Nonsense:

Telemachus is the son of Odysseus, an all-around dumbass teenager who goes on a trip to find his dad and whines a lot about it and shares a bed with another boy TWO TIMES (possibly more) and they go on a life-changing journey to Sparta together on which they become “intimate friends”. No, that’s literally the wording.

Peisistratus is a prince of Pylos, one of the many sons of Nestor, he wanted to go to the Trojan War but he was a literal baby then. He’s more outspoken and does most of the talking while Telemachus is doing Social Anxiety. 

They both have long-ass names that are annoying af to type out every time. 

[maxdurden]

WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday)

i was recently tagged by @johaerys-writes and i didn't want to miss out on the last wip wednesday of the year lol. so better late than never, i guess. it's always cool to see what they're working on and twin flames is an incredible patrochilles fic if anyone's looking for one! i got a little carried away and wrote an excerpt of braved by your heart's resolve that won't be used until wayyy out near the damn end, so i thought i'd take the opportunity to share it lol

Defeat and exhaustion were etched into Odysseus—the slant of his shoulders, the lines of his forehead—like mountains carved into the face of the world. He looked haggard in a way Peisistratus had never seen, even in the eyes of his own father, three generations old. It was clear before he answered the goddess that he was done. He had no more fight left in him. 

Given the stories he had heard, Peisistratus found it hard to believe. Menelaus had recounted Odysseus’ great fighting spirit, Nestor had often fondly recalled his comrade in arms’ daring deeds. But, here he stood, only a mortal and with only so much to give. 

“I will step down willingly, accept exile if I must.” His eyes did not meet the goddess’ piercing eyes. Beside him, Queen Penelope’s jaw tensed, an effect of the nerves so imperceptible that Peisistratus may not have noticed it had he not seen it recreated a hundred times in Telemachus’ own anxious ticks. Her eyes bore into Athena, as if she was daring the goddess of battle herself to raise a hand against her husband. Athena paid her no mind, her expression trained into one of complete impassivity, as still as stone.

Peisistratus felt as though he was bracing himself for a blow. Within him he held the same tension visible in the startled stillness of a rabbit, an entirely instinctual response to a danger too big to fully know or anticipate. 

Athena’s too-sharp, gray eyes slid towards Telemachus. 

tagging @thrustin-timberlake and @eggmacguffin and anyone else who wants to share something from their wip!!

[ocean-blue-whump]

The Odyssey

For @febuwhump Day 16: “Does that hurt?”

It goes without saying, but in case someone gets annoyed, I did not write The Odyssey. Passages from The Odyssey are in italics. 

Dax Del Mar Masterlist

Tagging @ashintheairlikesnow @outofangband @batfacedliar-yetagain - let me know if you want to be added/removed!

TW: pet whump, BBU, male whump, creepy/intimate whumper, whumpee is an adult but is referred to as ‘boy,’ build up to a beating, starvation, all around awfulness from Levi

***

“So he spoke, and willingly they heeded and obeyed. Quickly they harnessed the swift horses to the car. The housewife put in bread and wine and dainties, such things as heaven-descended princes eat. And now Telemachus mounted the goodly chariot, and Nestor’s son Peisistratus, ever the foremost, mounted the chariot too, and took the reins in hand. He cracked the whip to start—”

Hermes cringes at the phrase.

“—and not unwillingly the pair flew off into the plain, left the steep citadel of Pylos, and all day long they shook the yoke they bore between them.”

“Stop.” Levi’s voice is stern, echoing through the living room. “Come here, boy.”

Levi places his bookmark in the gilded copy of The Odyssey and steps out from behind the lectern, walking cautiously towards Levi on shaky, unsteady legs. Levi’s dressed him in a chiton with a silver belt. Even though only one of his nipple piercings is exposed to the air, the other is visible through the thin white fabric. 

Levi yanks Hermes onto to his lap. “You hesitated, sweet boy,” he whispers into Hermes’s ear. “I don’t like when you do that.”

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hermes whispers. “Please punish me however you like. Discipline is a necessary and humane event for the obedience and wellbeing of a pet.” But please, don’t take any more food away from me. He’s down to a single bag of stale chips stashed under a floorboard in the dance studio and he doesn’t know how much longer he can make it. 

But he’ll keep on surviving, even if he doesn’t want to. 

“I know, sweetheart.” Levi’s hand dips lower and lower, pressing into a cluster of welts on Hermes’s lower back. “Does it hurt?”

He had taken the cane there the night before after begging for food. He remembers in training how that would work, how being good and asking so beautifully got him rewarded. He used to remember all of training, but it’s just getting foggier and foggier with each passing day.

Now all he has left is the memory of Handler Dennison smiling down at him.

“Yes,” he says softly, offering the single word into the coldness of the house and the coldness of his bones. “It hurts, Levi. I learned my lesson.”

“Hmm.” Levi’s hand stills. “You never learn that lesson, though. You keep asking.” Levi pulls away from Hermes’s back and holds onto the boy’s face. “Does it hurt? The hunger?”

It’s a trick question. Regardless of the answer, it’s wrong. One way, he’s lying. The other, he’s being ungrateful. Hermes holds his breath, toying with the two options in his mind. “Yes, Levi,” he whispers. “It hurts.”

“You’re lying.”

The words make him freeze. “Please, I’m not lying, I wouldn��t lie to you!”

Levi’s hand is around his throat in an instant, thick fingers gripping his throat and squeezing. “You’re lying, little whore,” he hisses. “It doesn’t hurt. For it to hurt I would have to be starving you? Am I starving you?”

“Y-yes,” Hermes chokes out. 

“Lies.” He tightens his grip and the world is closing in on Hermes, his vision blacking out on the edges. “I’m not starving you. I’m not even remotely cruel. I’d hate to have to discipline you, captive god. Do you want to be disciplined?”

Hermes can’t answer, Levi is choking him, holding so tight above his heavy necklace that his skin will most definitely bruise. He nods. It’s the only thing he can do. He’s losing himself, he’s slipping away and about to be pulled under the edge, into the darkness—

Levi lets go and shoves Hermes to the floor. “Go on. Finish reading. I need to come up with your punishment, dear boy.”

Hermes stands up on shaking, weak knees and he’s not going to survive this. “Yes, Levi.” What will it be this time? The cane, the paddle, the sensory deprivation hood, the cattle prod?

He moves to the lectern and with trembling hands and reopens The Odyssey. His fingers caress the thick pages. He should feel so lucky he’s able to read. He should feel so lucky that he’s not hurt. 

“Now the sun sank and all the ways grew dark, and the men arrived at Pherae, before the house of Diocles, the son of Orsilochus, whose father was Alphius. There for the night they rested; he gave them entertainment.”

That’s what Hermes is, entertainment, a toy that doesn’t hurt because Levi says he doesn’t. He can still feel the ache in his brittle bones. Words won’t make that go away.

“Then as the early rosy-fingered dawn appeared, they harnessed the horses, mounted the gay chariot, and off they drove from porch and echoing portico. Peisistratus cracked the whip to start, and not unwillingly the pair flew off. So into the plain they came where grew the grain; and through this, by and by, they reached their journey’s ending. So fast their horses sped them. Then the sun sank and all the ways grew dark.”

“Go get me the cane, boy. I think twenty hits to your ribs will fix your attitude.” Levi’s eyes narrow. “Each side.”

Hermes winces. He’s so thin, being hit there hurts so badly, but it’s better than his feet for when Levi makes him dance. “Yes, Levi.”

Silently, the captive god with the painfully light footsteps goes to meet his fate. 

[valarhalla]

I have to memorise all the following dates and information for an exam, and the dates portion is only one third of it.

Murder me

12th to 9th century- dark period

Ionia 1000 BCE • Dorian Greeks occupy parts of central Greece and the Peloponnesus, driving out the earlier Ionian Greeks, who in turn migrate to the Cyclades and Ionia- return of the heracleidae Four major groups are dorians, aeolians, achaeans, and ionians

750 BCE • Greek colonization of coastal areas of Spain, S. France, S. Italy, Sicily, N. Africa begins Asia and Lydia

600 BCE • Lydians begin the conquest of Ionian Greek city-states We found ourselves quite happy up 600 BC, but then i saw the lydians were running after meee

560-550 BCE • Lydian conquest of Ionia complete by King Croesus

546 BCE • conquest of Lydia and Ionia by the Persian Empire under Cyrus (I) the Great Sparta

800 BCE • similar to other poleis, the synoecism of Sparta: five villages merged, forming Sparta

775-750 BCE • traditional date for Spartan lawgiver Lycurgus

730-700 BCE • First Messenian War; military conquest of Messenia to the west of Laconia

• Second Messenian War; revolt of Messenians and their final subjugation by Sparta; Messenians become Helots

580-565 BCE • Spartan defeat at Tegea; end of Spartan expansion, formation of Arcadian-Spartan alliance: the basis of the Peloponnesian League

525 BCE • Spartan failed attempt to overthrow tyranny of Polycrates of Samos; sets limits of Spartan influence without sea-power 510-506 BCE • Spartan intervention and expulsion of Hippias, tyrant of Athens; Spartan King Cleomenes later invades Attica in support of Isagoras, rival of Cleisthenes; forced to retreat by the Corinthians 499 BCE • Cleomenes refuses to aid Aristagoras with the Ionian revolt Athens 700-650 BCE • synoecism of Attica under Athens 632 BCE • attempted tyranny of Cylon and his faction; besieged on the Acropolis; tricked and murdered by rival clan, the Alcmaeonidae 600 BCE • Athens acquires Salamis in a war with Megara; Athenian establishes colony at Sigeum in Troad 580 BCE (594 BCE) • Solon’s political and economic reforms 546-510 BCE • Tyranny of Peisistratus and Hippias his son o founding of colonies (Sigeum, Thracian Chersonese [grain route]) o purification of Delos: Athens as Ionian leader (cf. Sparta as Dorian leader) 520 BCE • Athenian colonization of Lemnos and Imbros: again the grain route? 514 BCE • assassination of Hipparchus, brother of Hippias, by Harmodius and Aristogeiton; the Athenian version: liberators from tyranny and not Cleomenes and Spartans

510 BCE • overthrow of Hippias by Sparta; old rivalries between clans and aristocratic leaders arose again 506 BCE • Medism of Athens; triple attack on Attica by Cleomenes to restore Isagoras again; invasion of Attica; Boeotians invade from the north; Chalcidians from the northeast; Cleomenes retreats Athens defeats Boeotians and Chalcidians; seizes and colonizes Lelantine plain on Euboea (first Cleruchs: military settlers) 501/0 BCE • Cleisthenes’ reforms in place The Persian Wars (499-479 BCE) 499 Appeals to Sparta and Athens by Aristagoras; Ionian Revolt assisted by 20 Athenian ships and 5 Eretrian ships 498/7 Sack and destruction of Sardis and the Temple of Cybele; Athenian withdrawal 494 Fall of Miletus; end of Revolt; democracies established by Mardonius in Ionia 493/2 Archonship of Themistocles at Athens; beginning of fortification of Peiraeus 490 Athenian victory at Marathon 487 Ostracism used for the first time 486 Accession of Xerxes of Persia

483 Silver strike at Laureum: construction of 200 triremes at Athens 481 Meeting of “The Hellenes” to discuss the threat of a Persian invasion 480 Battles of Thermopylae (Leonidas), Artemisium and Salamis (Themistocles); Athens and its temples destroyed twice 479 Battles of Plataea (led by Pausanias) and Mycale; retreat of Persian forces from Greece The Delian League (479-461 BCE) 479/8 Rebuilding of Athenian walls by Themistocles 478 Hellenic naval offensive in Ionia and Aegean; disgrace of Spartan Pausanias; Lacedaemonians dismissed as leaders 478/7 Acceptance of hegemony by the Athenians, leads to Delian League; First tribute assessment by Aristeides 476/5 Delian League capture of Eion and Skyros 473 Ostracism of Themistocles 2 473 Carystus forced into the Delian League

472 Death of Pausanias 471 Exile of Themistocles 470 Revolt and reduction of Naxos; first example of secession for the league 469/6 Delian League victory at the Eurymedon under Cimon over Persians 465 Revolt and siege of Thasos; accession of Artaxerxes I of Persia 465/4 Athenian defeat by Thracians at Drabescus; failure of colony at Ennea Hodoi; Thasian appeal to Spartans for help 464 Earthquake at Sparta; revolt of Messenians 463/2 Subjugation of Thasos under Cimon 462 Dismissal of Athenian assistance under Cimon by Lacedaemonians 462/1 Athenian alliances with Argives and Thessalians

461 Ostracism of Cimon; fall of Messenian Ithome; settlement of Messenians at Naupactus by Athenians 461/0 Athenian alliance with Megarians; building of their Long Walls; Revolt of Egypt (under Inaros) from Persia 460 Delian League expedition to Cyprus; acceptance of invitation to aid Inaros The First Peloponnesian War (461-445 BCE) 460-454 Delian League expedition in Egypt 460 Athenian siege of Aegina 460/59 Long Walls begun to Peiraeus and Phalerum 458 Spartan invasion of central Greece: Spartan victory at Tanagra; Athenian victory at Oenophyta under Myronides: Athenian control over Boeotia, Phocis, Locris 457 Surrender of Aegina; voyage of Tolmides around the Peloponnese 3 454 Final defeat of the Delian League in Egypt; Transfer of league treasury to Athens 454/2 Revolts and subjugation of Erythrae and Miletus?

451 Return of Cimon; five-year armistice with the Peloponnesians 450 Expedition to Cyprus under Cimon: his death 449 Peace of Callias (?) and peace with Persian Empire?; Failure of Panhellenic Congress (?); inception of building program at Athens; Sacred War: Spartan interference at Delphi 448 Year of Crisis?; no tribute paid (moratorium) (?); McGregor dates several decrees to this time: Congress decree, Decree of Cleinias, Coinage decree 447 Re-establishment of new purpose of the league/empire?; sesumption of payment of tribute (?) 446 Athenian defeat at Coroneia; Athenian loss of influence in central Greece; Revolt of Euboea and Megara; Peloponnesian invasion of Attica Reduction of Euboea; cleruchies sent to Chalcis and Eretria 446/5 Thirty-Years' Peace with the Peloponnesian League The Inter-War period (445-431 BCE) 444 Colony sent to Thurii 443 Ostracism of Thucydides, son of Melesias; beginning of the domination of Pericles; his building program 440 Revolts of Samos and Byzantium

439 Recovery of Samos and Byzantium 436 Colony established in Thrace: Amphipolis 433 Athenian-Corcyra alliance; conflict with Corinth; Megarian Decree 432 Revolts of Potidaea and Chalcidians Meetings of Peloponnesian League 4 The (Second) Peloponnesian War (431-403 BCE) 431-421 Archidamian War: five invasions (out of six years) of Attica by the Peloponnesian League under the Spartan king Archidamus 430/29 Plague at Athens/death of Pericles 428/7 Revolt of Mytilene and near andrapodismos 425 Athenian victory at Pylos: capture of Spartiates 424/3 Capture of Amphipolis by Brasidas; exile of Thucydides 421 Peace of Nicias; general cessation of direct conflict between Athens and Sparta (421-413 BCE)

416 Andrapodismos of Melos by the Athenians 416-3 Sicilian Expedition and its destruction 413-403 Ionian War: campaigns in the Aegean and Ionia 412 Persian intervention and financial support for the Peloponnesian League (builds navy) 411 Oligarchic coup at Athens 410 Restoration of democracy at Athens 406 Athenian victory at Arginusae (death of the generals) 405 Final defeat of the Athenian Empire at Aegospotami 404/3 Defeat and end of the Athenian Empire

[effulgentpoet]

mythology aesthetics

NESTOR

In Greek mythology, Nestor was the wise King of Pylos, and an Argonaut who helped fight the centaurs, and participated in the hunt for the Calydonian Boar. He and his sons fought on the side of the Achaeans in the Trojan War. Though Nestor was already very old when the war began, he was noted for his bravery and speaking abilities. In the Iliad, he often gives advice to the younger warriors. Nestor's advice, while always respected by his listeners due to his age and experience, is always tempered with a sub-text of humor at his expense due to his boastfulness, as he is never able to dispense the advice without first spending several paragraphs recounting his own heroic actions in the past when faced with similar circumstances. He is too old to engage in combat himself, but he leads the Pylian troops, riding his chariot and carrying his solid gold shield. In the Odyssey, Nestor and those who were part of his army had safely returned to Pylos since they did not take part in the looting of Troy upon the Greeks' victory in the Trojan War. Odysseus's son Telemachus travels to Pylos to inquire about the fate of his father. Nestor receives Telemachus kindly and entertains him lavishly but is unable to furnish any information on his father's fate. Nestor's many children included Peisistratus, close friend of Telemachus. X