#the only prisoner on ogygia is odysseus himself

[lesbianbanana]

Just found out there's no line in the Odyssey (or any source I can find) that makes Calypso a prisoner of any kind. 😃. The tiktok fangirls aren't ready for me to tell them this.

[jflashandclash]

Tales from Mount Othrys

Jack: Silenced III

 That was how they spent the days: composing songs, learning instruments (he the harp and she the guitar), splashing in the ocean and the freshwater lake, lazing in the warmth of the beach, composing ballads about the clouds—he would sing one verse, then she; the next, until they had a full heavenly court composed of fluffy monsters.

Jack assured that he would stay to heal for three days and nights, but time in Ogygia didn’t move right. He counted. He’d stayed out the second night, watching the stars and the silver slit of a moon. There was an epoch he’d written for Flynn (she hadn’t heard it yet) that lasted thirty minutes when sung at the correct tempo. It was designed to cycle between Mandarin and English, so it would take an hour in total. Calypso came to join him in the garden.

The stars and moon never moved throughout the song.

Time does not have the same meaning here.

Did Calypso have any control over it? Was Jack experiencing more per second or did Ogygia have a different sun, ticking away on its own orbit exterior to the rest of the world? Would he leave in three days and Flynn be old? He didn’t mind her being old, but it broke his heart to think her worrying over him for or their time together stolen by old age.

Memo to self: find way to spend entity with Flynn. Jack reasoned they could, whether or not the war was won. Either they’d end up in Elysium together if they won or the Fields of Punishment if they lost. That’s where Greeks went when they died, right? Jack didn’t mind either way, as long as he had Flynn.

 ***

Jack found the body on the morning of the third day.

Calypso went to bath. Jack learned not to be easily stumbled upon when she bathed, so she had plenty of space or time to find items she may have forgotten—combs, jewelry, soap, shampoo, clothing.

The morning was pleasant, though everything had been pleasant, like the weather itself didn’t want to leave an impression that could indicate the passage of time.

Jack hadn’t explored the island yet. He had wanted to spend as much time working on Calypso’s feelings for Odysseus, but she avoided the topic. The Greek hero must have hurt her bad. She asked uncomfortable questions about Flynn—ones that grew more uncomfortable once she discovered that Flynn’s face was scarred. Jack loved her scars. Calypso had used a word he didn’t like: disfigured. Disfigured and barren, she mused. As though Flynn wasn’t beautiful because she had marks from living life. Jack had never known Flynn without those markings. There was no figuring to disfigure. It was just part of Flynn.

That was their talk over breakfast, then she’d gone to bathe. He just hadn’t wanted to be easily found, but not wanting to be easily found quickly turned to the realization that he could continue out of the hiding spot.

At Camp Othrys, there was always someone to make sure he was in the right place, at the right time. Someone checked to make sure he did his voice exercises before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Someone walked him to his monster meditation sessions, his band practice, his room. Life was a continuous carousal of Flynn’s, Luke’s, his boys’, and the titans’ faces. Before that, the riders had been switched out for his family, teachers, pastors, and youth directors.

When was the last time he’d been alone?

Stepping alongside the cave, gliding his fingers along the rough, chilly exterior as a guide, he jittered with terrified delight. Hollowness fogged him for the first step: he missed band practice; singing with Calypso made him nostalgic for it. He missed Phil and the other monsters; recounting stories to Calypso conjured up their memories. But…

Everything was sharper here. Maybe he was allowed to explore.

There was no schedule. There was no “someone.” He had some time before Calypso would come looking for him—whether if she paused half way through a bath to come find something or finished off completely.

There seemed no badness on this island. No monsters. No death. He didn’t need to fear the walls screaming nor the ocean coming to eat him. This world felt less dangerous. Emptier. Sadder. Ethereal at times. But less dangerous.

With the excitement of calculated fear, Jack traced his fingers along the exterior of the cave.

 ***

He did not expect to find a groove in the façade and a second three feet after: a doorway tucked tightly behind aspen trees and foliage. When he sang to it, mimicking the gentle trill of Calypso’s voice when she called her invisible servants, he did not expect the stone to give way to a passageway. Peering inside, he didn’t expect to find a naturally-lit cavern, a mirror image to the one he’d been enjoying.

Winged creatures—birds?—exploded upwards from the hideaway, into some unseen escape above.

For a heartbeat, Jack wondered if Calypso had been wrong: maybe he did need his medication on Ogygia. This felt too fairy tale, too much like a demented stumble into a rabbit’s hole. This cave eerily reflected Calypso. Here, the harp was abandoned in the corner, wood warped and strings broken. The ingredients and herbs in the shelf looked rotted to black dust. Mold and moths crumbled the white linens of the bed into a green moss. The crystalline ceiling caved to allow gentle, pleasant sunrays to golden the center of the room, where Jack saw the unmistakable shape of a skeleton.  

He froze, staring. Sometimes, if he looked long enough, things would go away. Sometimes, they were a trick of the light. His therapists and counselor told him to wait before panicking.

His chest hurt. Had he been holding his breath? Jack leaned forward, his hands still trailing the wall. There were more grooves, these much closer, much more systematic.

Upon checking the markings on the wall, Jack’s stomach dropped. There were numbers. The same kind some of the titans and monsters used: ancient Greek. They were carved into the walls—all of the walls. They twisted around the room, growing into longer numerical values. All of it was disrupted by one massive word, something that someone must have written in desperation or obsession:

       Πηνελόπη

 Jack knew enough Greek to read it.

PENELOPE

He took another step in.

More birds fluttered up through the hole in the ceiling. Jack flinched. No matter how many times he looked away, no matter how many steps he crept closer, the skeleton didn’t disappear. Jack knelt on the grassy mattress to inspect it. Judging from the size, he guessed it was a child or a very small person. There was a hole in the top back of the cranium, sending spidery fractures around it like rims of embroidery. It could have been broken when the roof caved in or maybe it was a death infliction—Jack didn’t have the coroner background to say.

Someone inhaled behind him.

Jack shrieked. He jumped, almost stumbling onto the skeleton. Instead, his legs buckled on a nearby box—a funerary box.

Calypso stood in the passageway. Her hair was damp, tinted to a deep brown. Its ends brushed her white dress, making sections semi-translucent. Wetness clung to her cheeks, but he doubted that came from her bath. Despite her eyes being shadowed, they were too wide.

Unless Jack sprouted wings to sore with the startled birds, she was in the way of his only exit.

Her voice was thick with emotion. “All ancient versions of the story have Odysseus leaving me with a child. Did new variations forget to mention that?”

Jack swallowed, horrified. He hadn’t found a mirror world of their little relaxing paradise; he’d found Odysseus’. His prison and his child’s tomb.

“You made it sound like the stories lied about you keeping him here against his will.” Jack scrambled off the funerary box, glad it hadn’t crumbled into a heap of rotted children’s toys. His skull hurt—he was tugging at his hair too tightly. He removed one hand to gesture at the walls. “Are these—are these markings about how many days he was here?”

She laughed: bitter, dark, heartbroken. “It’s not my fault he couldn’t keep track of how much time passes on Ogygia,” she whispered, “I gave him everything. Was kind and gentle. I offered him everything…” The wetness spread down her cheeks to drip into the increasing dampness of her dress.

Jack’s hand trembled. He forced himself not to curl into a ball, to rock, to banish the reality of the situation with thoughts that Flynn would come to save him. “B-but, he had a wife to go home to—”

“He had a terrible fate to bear!” she snarled.

“But he didn’t! After he left you, the Phaecians crafted him a marvelous boat, and sure, Poseidon destroyed it, but he fights off all of Penelope’s suitors, and he—and they—you—you kept Odysseus prisoner from his wife for seven years for no reason! You are an evil witch! A ‘terrible fate…’” Jack’s mockery died to horror. He took another step back, so the waterfall of sunlight and the child’s skeleton lay between their two spaces of shadow. Jack pressed against the cavern wall, feeling Odysseus’ scrawling, the numbers of days he’d desperately clawed out before he was allowed to return to his love. “‘A terrible fate…’” His memory whirled in the alarm. “That’s what you said about me… Oh titans—Oh Flynn! How long have I been here?!” He racked his fingers across the grooves in the wall, as though Odysseus’ ghost had kept a record in Jack’s absentmindedness.

How many other caves did Calypso have hidden? Ones with corpses of other lover’s children and other lover’s imprisonments.

“Jack…” Calypso’s voice chipped with emotion. She opened her hands towards him, as though for an embrace. “Come here. Let’s get away from this tomb. Let’s go sing on the beach or collect fruits and vegetables for breakfast…”

Something made Jack’s skin tingle. Hands, gentle but firm, clamped around his arms and dragged him forward, towards her. Her invisible servants.

         Jack squirmed and fought, but each heartbeat glided him past and away from the dead child, from where Odysseus carved his days and the name of his love, and towards the outstretched arms of a spider in a woman’s skin.

         The invisible hands released him at the edge of her fingertips. The warm, soft skin graced his neck.

         Jack wrenched back. He ducked under her arm and out the tomb. Tree branches and foliage lashed his face and arms as he stumbled outside. The ground felt warm against his bare feet, the ocean breeze as soothing as a tranquilizer. His heartbeat pounded in cacophony to the easing whisper of the incoming tide. He kept running until he found the beach.

         “Jack… you can’t leave.”

         Her words came directly behind him, steady, with no indication that she’d run to catch up.

         He whirled to find her standing there: perfect braid still dampening her dress, frown dripping with tears, face something he would find on a stained-glass window instead of before him in the planes of reality.

         Water lapped up against his ankle. He swallowed down the salty air to quiet his stomach and the panic screaming in his head. “They’ll come for me,” he said, taking another step backwards. The rush of water hit his calf.

         She shook her head. “They can’t.”

         “I’ll—I’ll try every day!” Something sharp—maybe a shell—split Jack’s heel, but he refused to look away. If he blinked, she might grab him again. “I’ll swim as far as I can swim until I can’t swim anymore.”

         Her throat bobbed with a sob. “I will not let you kill yourself in such a way! Besides…” She stared off into the distance, the dawn’s glimmer reflecting off her almond eyes. “Don’t you think Odysseus tried that? Where do you think he ended up as soon as he lost consciousness?”

         Jack’s jaw dropped. He shook his head and stomped a foot into the surf. “No—no—there must be a way—”

         “Jack, you can’t get away.” All the mirth and sweetness left her voice reduced to a clogged drone. “There is no leaving this place. No matter where you go—”

         “No—”

         “—all roads lead back to me. And—”

         “Shut up!”

         “—I’m tired of being alone.”

         “I said shut up!” the words vibrated painfully in his throat.

         Her lip quivered. “Why must you be so cruel, brave one?”

         “Cruel? Cruel?!” Jack laughed until his voice felt hoarse. “What’s cruel is keeping me away from my home—”

         “I get you for at least seven years!” It was her turn to ball her fists in a fit of temper, like the pastor’s daughter caught taking ice cream money out of the donation box. “If you stay, you’ll have immorality. You’ll have agelessness. You’ll have your sanity!”

         “I don’t want any of those things! All I want is my family—”

         “I can be your family—unlike that barren, disfigured whore who refuses to be your wife.”

         Jack’s terror and panic twisted tightly in his stomach. Blood thumped against his ears. His fingers trembled as he clutched at the guitar string braided around his wrist. “You can’t assume every person that washes ashore will fall in love with you, you presumptuous—”

         “But, that’s how it works. That’s how it always works. You will love me.” That fragile, kindly veneer chipped.

         Jack thought about the notches Odysseus carved into the wall, about the other dead children probably hidden in caverns throughout the island. How many times had Calypso been abandoned over the years? He may have pitied her if it hadn’t broken her mind and warped her into the exact, spoiled goddess Camp Othrys sought to destroy.  

         Sanity. She offered me sanity. Jack didn’t want this ability to reason. Life made sense here and the sense it made was cold, dark, and absurd.

“Ms. Calypso,” he whispered, “I know you’re too old to be acquainted with this, but, Stockholm syndrome isn’t love. It’s exhaustion, compliance, and distorted empathy. Forcing someone to love you by wearing them down isn’t love at all—it’s perversion, it’s defilement—” He scowled, locking his jaw. “Take back what you said about Flynn.”

Calypso’s beauty soured with anger. The island itself seemed to thicken with fog. “I don’t want to hear anymore about Flynn.”

“Why? Because what Odysseus said about Penelope doesn’t apply here?” Jack demanded, reviewing the verses of the epic. Odysseus had complimented Calypso, caved to her, if nothing else than out of fear of a wrathful goddess. Jack snorted, “’I know that my wise Penelope, when a man looks at her, is far beneath you in form and stature.’ You’re not better than Flynn. She doesn’t base her worth off needing a man’s romantic love, you delusional, archaic bitch. And I’m never going to stop trying to get back to her. And if you think you won’t let me go…” Jack’s nails dug into the metal of his guitar chord. “I’m going to make you.”

Calypso’s eyes blazed with rage. The air went static, breeze abruptly dying, and the tide seemed to smother its unending whisper. As Jack had experienced some of the times Luke lost his temper to Kronos, Jack realized he was in the presence of a goddess—an immortal being with powers he could not fathom. And he was about to fight her to go home.

“I’m going to make you sick.” Jack laughed. This wasn’t the overpowering need to quiet his siblings. This was a much more calculated hatred. “And if you still won’t let me leave, I’ll make you sicker. I’ll give you leprosy to rot off your nose and show you what superficial love gives you!”

She may have been a goddess that cornered Odysseus, but he was Jak-Jak the Plague Bringer, the Scourge of New Rome, the Shame of Apollo and he was ready to sing.

“Darling, all night

I have been flickering—”[1]

Calypso’s anger melted back to sadness. She raised a hand, and Jack wondered if here, already, was a sign of defeat.

The collar of Jack’s shirt constricted. The strings—so carefully spun on Calypso’s loom—obediently stretched up his neck. Folds of cloth twisted into his open mouth. The song died. He choked on the gag.

Jack fumbled with the material. He clawed where the ridges dug into his cheeks. As soon as his forearms came up, the front of his tunic fused to his shirt sleeves. The material tightened, binding him until he was stuck in the position of Van Gogh’s Scream.

Something tugged at his feet. Jack frantically searched down. Strands unwound from the end of his pants, crisscrossing and weaving. He managed one step backwards before it cinched his feet together.

His choked screams clogged to whimpers. Jack collapsed into the water, thrashing. Salt water splashed into his eyes, mixing with his tears. The material soaked up what had once been a refreshing coastline.

Flynn! He wanted to shriek. Oh, titans, please—Flynn! As Calypso’s wet dress sashayed closer, the pounding in his head increased, encasing him like the full body straight jacket she’d hidden in his clothing.

Calypso’s dress winkled with the layering of stratocumulus clouds. The soothing lull of water resumed, a mocking cacophony to his clashing heartbeat. He wished the ocean would overtake him, that the waves would encircle him like this binding and drag him into its uncaring depths, away from her caring embrace.

Fingers graced his cheek. They were warm to the touch in the iciness of the island. Jack sobbed, thinking about kissing after Flynn’s fingers in the morning, about never getting to feel her calluses again.

These fingers, Calypso’s fingers, were silky, salacious, and knew the methodical patience of a spider feeling its web vibrate. “No, Jack,” she cooed, lifting his head from the sand and water. “No, you won’t. You’re going to stay here.” She curled the strands of his hair off his forehead. Her dress—more suffocating material—pressed into his cheek as she lay his head in her lap. “And we’ll be happy together forever.” Or for seven years. Or at least until a god came to save him.

They sat on the edge of the beach, staring off into an eternal sunrise with the sound of her hums and Jack’s whimpers in euphony with the tide.

Seven years. Or until a god saved him.

Jack had forsaken all gods and time didn’t pass in Ogygia.

 ***

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! and thank all of you for your patience at this time and your continued interest despite my hiatus! I hope you enjoyed!

 Footnote:

[1] Silvia Plath.

[ladyandtheghost]

Reason #8: WINTERFELL = ITHACA  a.k.a. (Snow)dysseus and Penelope

I’m sure people have discussed this already somewhere, but you know how GoT has a lot of foundation in history (War of the Roses, etc.) but also Mythology, as clearly Robert’s Rebellion is literally The Iliad where Lyanna is the “face that launched a thousand ships” and Rhaegar is Paris and Robert is Menelaus/ Agamemnon who sacks the 7K and King’s Landing is burning like Troy...

And this hasn’t struck me so much before “The Goodbye” but the parallels in S7 to Homer’s Odyssey are actually insane (Edit: I’d worked on this post BEFORE episode 3 dropped and then Jon said “I’m a prisoner on this island” at which point I spat out my drink and cracked open my Homer (kidding, ahem, I used wikipedia, shame on me!) 

I know it’s all still speculative and tinfoil-y but I can’t help thinking there must be something to these parallels, because look: 

Odyssey: Odysseus is the young King of Ithaca and more than reluctant to leave his home, his wife and his people to take the call of duty, but eventually he must go and fight in the greatest war the world has ever seen. He leaves Ithaca in the hands of his beloved wife Penelope, who is extremely clever and loyal (a “cunning weaver whose motivation is hard to decipher”). Their marriage is one of the most loving and succesful ones in all of mythology. and served as a popular example of “enduring love”. 

Odysseus is forced to go on what is called a “Nostos” - an extended journey mostly by sea in order to return home after a war, where he is met with many challenges, temptations in form of other women, monsters and dangers, yearning for home and his beloved wife. 

One of the most famous episodes in the Odyssey is on the Island of Calypso, where Odysseus gets stranded with his crew and, well this is how wikipedia sums it up: 

“[Calypso] attempts to keep the fabled Greek hero Odysseus on her island to make him her immortal husband. According to Homer, Calypso kept Odysseus prisoner at Ogygia for seven years,[6] while Apollodorus says five years[7] and Hyginus says one.[8] Calypso enchants Odysseus with her singing as she moves to and from, weaving on her loom with a golden shuttle. During this time they have sex together, although Odysseus soon comes to wish for circumstances to change. Odysseus can no longer bear being separated from his wife Penelope and wants to go to Calypso to tell her. His patron goddess Athena asks Zeus to order the release of Odysseus from the island, and Zeus orders the messenger Hermes to tell Calypso to set Odysseus free, for it was not his destiny to live with her forever. She angrily comments on how the gods hate goddesses having affairs with mortals, but eventually concedes, sending Odysseus on his way after providing him with wine, bread, and the materials for a raft.” (Wikipedia)

Meanwhile Penelope must govern Ithaca and fend off up to 108 pesky suitors all vying for her hand in marriage, so they can get the thrones of Ithaca. She pretends to listen and stalls their pursuit by “weaving a web” (supposedly her husbands shroud) which she then secretly unravels again every night, cleverly tricking the suitors who are too stupid to realize her scam until a maid betrays it and all hell breaks loose. 

At last, Odysseus returns home to Ithaca, where Penelope set up a shooting contest or tourney, whoever wins it will be her husband. Odysseus wins and then slays the other suitors and reveals himself – yet changed by Athena, he appears as a stranger and Penelope can not believe it is him, fearing he is some god in disguise, so she tests him with questions that only Odysseus can know (one of which includes a cloak (!) that she made him) She finally accepts him when he knows about the bed-tree in their wedding chamber. This is supposed to underline their homophroysne (“like-mindedness”) (!) 

The citizens of Ithaca first want to rise up against the King for slaying the suitors but Athena convinces both sides to make peace. The End. 

Game of Thrones: Jon is the young King in the North and more than reluctant to leave his home, his sister and his people to take the call of duty,  but eventually he must go and fight the greatest war Westeros has ever seen, “between the living and the dead”. He leaves Winterfell in the “good hands” of his beloved sister Sansa, who is extremely clever and loyal - having learned how to “cunningly weave a web” from LF and Cersei and how important loyalty is from her parents (”the pack survives”). 

Jon and his crew arrive on the shores of the Island of Dragonstone, where he is kept prisoner by the beguiling proprietor of the island, Daenerys, who takes away his ships so he can’t escape from the Island (and form her). Jon is seen to stand on the shore, wrapped in the cloak Sansa made for him, yearning to return home to Winterfell and her....so far, so parallel...

An Alternative Life: Calypso Targaryen

If spoilers/leaks are correct, then we will see Daenerys attempting to make Jon her “immortal husband” and boatbang will of course be them having sex like Odysseus and Calypso. I can hardly believe that Daenerys has already made Jon her “prisoner” on “her island” which is a trope that is immediately associated with the character of Calypso! 

If Jonerys happens, and I am absolutely convinced that Daenerys is already in love with Jon at this point, which is also why she doesn’t want ot let him go home, then there are two options: either I am completely off with this post and all my speculations, and D&D are just going for the “meet cute” and J/D will live happily ever after -- OR they go the full HOMER and Jon will also renounce the possibility of an “immortal” existence besides D - which will be the BIG BETRAYAL FOR LOVE just like Odysseus “betrayed” Calypso for love of Penelope. From the beginning Odysseus yearned to go home to Ithaca and was only delayed for a time and his longing to return “home” to find his “place” and have his wife back is the central theme, the driving force of the entire story. 

Sansa as Penelope -- Creepy suitors and weaving (her web)

What makes this doubly crazy as a parallel is that Sansa’s storyline completely matches that of Penelope: 

Like Penelope, Sansa has had a shitload of suitors - not exactly 108, but still a lot for a teenager - and the fact that she had them drives her own storyline and even part of the main story. So many people have written about how Sansa’s story is in fact all about her suitors - down to the “Ashford Tourney Theory”, which is so far the only “major” theory people seemed to have about Sansa. 

In Season 7, the pesky suitors of Penelope, urging her to marry one of them, is evidently embodied in form of Littlefinger who has the peskiness and “thirst” for Sansa’s hand worth 108 suitors. And like Penelope, Sansa tries to keep him off and under control for as long as Jon (Odysseus) is gone. She is also going to play for time with LF and will come up with a clever and cunning way to “weave a web” which will eventually ensnare and trick him.

If LF is killed by the end of the season, that is basically the “slaying of the suitors” of Penelope – And even the other ones do seem to die one by one – because they are not her “real husband”: Joffrey poisoned, Loras dead, Ramsay eaten by dogs. Tyrion never wanted to marry her and would not touch her, which he even confirmed in this episode so maybe that’s why he’s spared, because he had no selfish intentions with her.

And like Penelope, the weaving and making of clothes is Sansa’s weapon. We see her doing needlework from S1 onwards – and unlike Arya, she’s nerdily good at it. Cersei praises her for the dress she made, and she continues to make her own clothes in KL. The most important piece of clothes that she makes, however, is the cloak she made for Jon (along with a dress for herself that matches it), that she fashioned after Ned’s and that is basically her identifying Jon as King in the North and rightful ruler before all others. That cloak – and I will laugh my ass off if it comes up again in some symbolic way (EDIT: I swear to God, I wrote this bit BEFORE 7x03 and saw Jon wearing it on the cliffs) – is Jon’s identity as a Northerner, as KitN and as the man at Sansa’s side. When he ever takes it off (and we know he will likely take it off when going to bed with D) that is also his “shedding” his Northerner identity. That’s when he is all Targaryen and it will be very symbolic (whether that will be the end and he will never “go back” is the true question).

The North has always been Ithaca because of SANSA – Jon is definitely Targaryen on his father’s side and the only “claim” he could have on the throne is to prove that he is still the man who left, still Jon Snow, the King in the North – like Odysseus had to prove that he was still the King of Ithaca. Once Jon’s parentage will be known, he will become someone else, a stranger, an outsider to Winterfell and the North and the one person who could welcome him home and make him warden of the north again is Sansa by giving him back his identity, his family and the life he always wanted. Just like Penelope questioned Odysseus and accepted him as her husband, giving him back his identity and his kingdom.

So IF Sansa survives, maybe she will finally get to “choose” the husband she wants (people might argue that she wanted Joffrey – but technically, her marriage to Joffrey had already been decided by Robert, so even though she was asked, there was little room for argument, then came the Tyrell’s and the Lannisters, then Lysa with Sweetrobin and in the end Littlefinger sold her to the Boltons). IF Sansa survives, her happy ending might be that she is given agency to take or refuse a man, and I think that Jon is to be that man for her. And she will make that choice not because he keeps her safe, or because he is the prince that was promised or for political reasons, but because she truly wants to have him.

The relationship between Odysseus and Penelope is often called an example of “steadfast” and “enduring” love and if these parallels are not complete tinfoil, then perhaps we may get to see such a true and enduring love between two characters at the end of the story.

[niennavalier]

And time for more Prison Break thoughts because I was watching parts from that too. Again, I dunno how closely the writers necessarily followed to the Odyssey, but there are certain parallels that are pretty interesting, so it’s fun to guess what other ones might crop up.

So in the Odyssey, Poseidon is essentially the Godly antagonist of our hero, Odysseus, and also the one who ends up lengthening Odysseus’ voyage home (by 10 years, not 7, so the show is sorta mixing and matching bits - Odysseus is stuck on Ogygia for 7 years, though). Generally, that’s a lot like Poseidon thus far in the show - he’s the reason Michael had to fake his death.

Interesting thing though, Poseidon is only doing this to Odysseus as revenge for his son, Polyphemus. Long story short, Polyphemus is a cyclops who imprisons Odysseus and his crew and plans to eat them. Odysseus tricks him, calling himself “Nobody” (aka “Outis”, hence the reference in PB), stabs his eye out, and escapes, but not before telling Polyphemus his true name, giving the cyclops the means to ask his father, Poseidon, to curse Odysseus. (Because pride is always the villain in Greek myths).

In terms of PB, Michael doesn’t exhibit that same sort of pride (my own analysis I’ve done of him makes me think he’s prideful in different ways - more like what you see in the flashbacks in “Brother’s Keeper” - but not in a loud way like Odysseus). But he’s still known to people. In particular for the circle of people affected by him and the rest of the cast taking down the Company. My point is, Poseidon (the Greek God) doesn’t go after Odysseus without provocation, so what if Poseidon (the rogue CIA agent) is doing the same? Someone who had intimate ties with the Company who is now getting revenge on Michael for what he did. Essentially tying even more of this whole season back into what happened in the original series, beyond explaining stuff from The Final Break.  Given the fact that that call (the one to Michael in the flashback) seemed to happen fairly shortly after the Company fell - I mean, within a few months at most which means wow, Michael and Sara settled into total domestic bliss real fast - it could make sense that the events of Season 4 are the catalyst for Poseidon caring at all. Couple months to be able to mastermind the plan and then put it into action that quickly because of personal reasons. Why does personal reasons matter? It seems like Poseidon is a mastermind type villain, so someone who doesn’t mind playing the long game - no need to act quite that quickly unless for a personal reason, aka the Company.

Now I’m just spitballing stuff, but things like if Jonathan Krantz had other relatives; his daughter, Lisa, is mentioned, but there’s no confirmation or denial regarding if he has other family who might’ve been involved. Like, say, a son who was Company and also CIA (because they had people in high places, and would also explain how someone could have the resources to remove themselves from the record of being a government agent. I mean, how the hell does the CIA not know who went rogue?). Plus, I feel like this would be interesting in terms of turning the tables of father and son compared to Poseidon and Polyphemus, if that makes sense.

And honestly, this could work for a lot of different people, cause it’s not specific to a person, just who that person’s backstory is. I mean, it could work for Jacob, cause I know a lot of people suspect him.

As for me, I’ll definitely guess he’s evil. In some way. I’ll hesitate from saying Poseidon for a bit, though. For one, in terms of writing, I feel like that’s a bit too easy to guess. (For comparison, if anyone reading this watches Flash, the Savitar reveal, while satisfying because it’s the most narratively interesting choice, was objectively anticlimactic - i think most people were already onto that pretty early). The other thing comes back to the Odyssey. I know there was a post a little while ago looking at Jacob’s name.

Jacob Anton Ness. 

The main suitor of Penelope in the Odyssey is named Antinous. In comparison to Poseidon being Odysseus’ godly antagonist, Antinous is his mortal antagonist (I think these are terms from Sparknotes but whatever, they make sense). Poseidon is the mastermind behind Odysseus being away for so long; Antinous is a smaller, more immediate threat to his private, family life. But they’re not related. Antinous and the other suitors become a problem as a result of Poseidon’s work keeping Odysseus away (and the length of the Trojan War, but that doesn’t parallel PB, so I’m leaving it out). So...what if Jacob isn’t Poseidon, and there’s something more to come in later episodes? In all honesty, a lot more of his actions can be attributed to a suitor. Throwing out Michael’s notes, keeping Sara from looking for him - can be just cause he doesn’t want her to get back with Michael, because he know’s she’d pick him in a heartbeat (which really does make her quite like Penelope...huh). Why the assassins didn’t kill him is a bit harder to put together and doesn’t parallel anything from the Odyssey, but him meeting with them and offering them money (if that story is true) would also fit if he’s the part of a suitor. He does want Sara for himself and wouldn’t want her to die. He just doesn’t want Michael back in the picture. 

Also, I feel like if Poseidon had found out Michael had been trying to send notes to Sara, there would’ve been more grave consequences, because his power is more far reaching. Antinous or Jacob doesn’t have much more power than to just get rid of the notes. (But I’ll say, the notes could correspond to the beginning of the show and Lincoln being targetted, though I suppose that depends on how long the origami cranes have been sent and intercepted; no details on that yet).

Timeline wise, this also seems to work. I don’t think Antinous and co. are a problem right after Odysseus leaves - they come along because the hero hasn’t returned. I don’t know exactly how much of stuff in the last scene of the last episode of season 4 is necessarily canon now, but there’s that “Four Years Later” scene of them reuniting in, I’m assuming, Panama. There’s no indication Sara’s remarried (although, to be fair, there wouldn’t have been when they filmed that back in ‘09) but if you take that as canon, Jacob didn’t come around til later (I suppose, after 2014, then, in this adjusted timeline). And his showing up at all really doesn’t make much sense, outside of the “be where they least expect you” type of logic, if he’s Poseidon. Which, even then, is a bit flawed, considering he didn’t seem to be around until the last few years. Had he needed to be somewhere inconspicuous, I would’ve thought the time to do that would be shortly after the Company had fallen and people would’ve been on higher alert - nice time to go hang out in the suburbs. And if he had to be near Sara to send Michael a message about the kind of power he had, that would’ve been more helpful to be there while Michael could even get close to Sara - like in the flashback scene - than when Michael was stuck in Ogygia.

So there you have my long ramble about Prison Break speculation.