#troy music hall

[3garcons]

Preservation Hall Jazz Band in Troy NY 2023 Nov

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloved no.1 chappell roan stan @cordiallyfuturedwight thanks my darling <33 i can only apologise for the lack of ms roan here... i swear good luck babe has been on repeat i don't know what happened

tagging the usual suspects, apologies if i've already missed yours: @aprylynn @jiminsproof @thvinyl @cosmicdreamgrl @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi <333 and you dear reader

oh and see here for more of my self-proclaimed songs of the summer if you're interested in that kind of thing

[in-a-continuous-daydream]

Does Zac Efron know he changed lives with the 2008 High School Musical: Senior Year “Scream” scene or what??

[fionnemrys]

My view of the stage for the Indigo Girls tonight. Second row, center! We are packed in like sardines. Good thing IG fans are a friendly bunch. 😉

[astral-cowboy]

Abed is a tally hall listener. Troy only listens to them when abed does. They both like two wuv.

[selfdiscoverymedia]

LM24-42. Whitty & Hall "WHAT!!!! "  

“For the LOVE of Music” with Sara Troy and her guest George Whitty & Ellis Hall on air from October 15th When music legends George Whitty and Ellis Hall decided to turn their long time mutual admiration society into an official partnership, they committed full throttle to recording their explosive contemporary twist on classic R&B and came up with a clever branding idea.  Rather than simply…

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference—after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[sereinsea71]

jegulus are so precious to me. they are everything: the sun and the star, grumpy (meanie)/sunshine, black cat/golden retriever, best friend’s brother, enemies (rivals) to lovers, star-crossed lovers, opposites attract, achilles and patroclus, one fell first/the other fell harder, right person/not enough time,

angst oh so much angst, but also healing because it’s okay to not be okay / to be sad (for james) and it’s okay to let yourself rely on someone / to be cared for even if you’re always guarded and on edge (for regulus),

it’s slow burn, it’s yearning and pining all across the great hall, it’s meeting in secret in the astronomy tower or come&go room or hogwarts’ library, it’s loving everything about the person (obnoxious laugh, mean stares, clinginess, good days and bad days), it’s sacrificing every last bit of yourself for that person even though he may or may not find out about it, it’s constant need to reassure yourself that this person is yours (“are you mine? tell me you’re mine”), it’s uncertainty and jealousy and passion and devotion and reverence and tenderness and pain

and being brave even though you’re afraid to let someone in or to let someone go because it’s the right choice

it’s:

“don’t go to troy”

“somewhere in the west country of england james potter can’t breathe”

(cr. choices by messermoon)

“you’re hesitating, love”

“a great big tragedy”

(cr. crimson rivers by bizarrestars)

“loving you is beautiful. i hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but you loving me is breathtaking”

(cr. just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by bizarrestars)

“regulus loves him in french music.”

(cr. only the brave by solmussa)

“I love you. that’s all.”

(cr. art heist, baby! by otrtbs)

they are everything!!

[goldengleams]

can i have this dance? | jamie drysdale x reader

In which you and Jamie become Troy and Gabriella.

Missing Jamie Drysdale and all of his cuteness, so enjoy this HSM3 inspired blurb!!

————————————————————————

You couldn’t help but feel overly excited at the dark clouds that were starting to cover the sky. After living in California for a year, you had grown accustomed to the lack of rain, but it still made you aggravated. You grew up in a place that had rain on a regular basis and had always loved it.

“Jamie, it’s looking like rain!” You shouted down the hall to your boyfriend. You were curled up near the edge of the couch so that you could look out the window.

Jamie had just woken up from a nap, the loud thunder drawing him from his slumber. He opened his bedroom door and trudged over to the couch, dramatically falling on top of you.

“Yeah, and your rain just woke me up,” he grumbled. You started to poke at his shoulder, which was now uncomfortably in your side.

“Well you can’t miss the rain! This is the most exciting moment of my week, J. I can’t understand how nothing here ever needs rain, it’s so weird,” you trailed off, focus on the window.

Jamie looked up at your hopeful face and smiled at you. He found it so adorable that you were so passionate about the rain. One time up on the roof of his and Trevor’s apartment, he had listened to you describe the way you saw the rain. You saw it as a cleanse, everything becoming drenched in water. It was calming to you, the thunder and lightning only making the spectacle more interesting and attention grabbing.

A soft gasp left your mouth as rain started to fall. You clambered up from the couch, running to the large window to watch it like a little kid.

“Jamie, look!”

Jamie eagerly followed you. You were practically bouncing by the time the rain started to pick up and the lawn outside Jamie’s apartment got wet.

“Now this, this Jamie Drysdale, feels normal,” you laughed. “This feels like home.”

Jamie, a fair bit taller than you, rested his head atop yours and wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s beautiful,” Jamie offered. He couldn’t quite see what you saw when it rained, but he loved trying to understand you, so he was willing to stare out the window a little longer.

You wriggled free from his grasp and spun around the kitchen. “We have to rain dance, Jamie!”

Your eyes were bright as you stared at him. You were sure you looked a little wild-your hair was half tucked in a bun and a large Anaheim Ducks t-shirt covered your body. What you didn’t know was that Jamie thought you looked just as beautiful as ever.

“A rain dance?” He questioned.

You nodded emphatically. “Yes, Jamie. And it means that we have to go outside and be absolutely obnoxious and have the time of our fucking lives, do you understand?”

You didn’t give Jamie any time to really understand before you were tugging on his arm. You both slipped on sandals and before Jamie knew it, you were leading him out his front door, down the steps.

“You’ve seen High School Musical 3, right?” You questioned, slowing your movement to look at Jamie.

He nodded, looking confused as to where you were going with this.

“Well, there’s a scene where Gabriella and Troy sing this song and they dance in the rain and have the best time ever, and I’ve always wanted to do it with someone special,” you said, the giddiness bubbling inside of you.

You ran ahead of him, arms wide to feel the cool water hit your body. Jamie could practically see the happiness radiating from your frame.

“Dance with me, Jamie!”

While this wasn’t Jamie’s preferred activity, he ran out to meet you in the middle of the lawn, abandoning the covering of the doorway. You were in your element.

You found Jamie’s shoulders as you pulled him close to do a pretend slow dance in the rain. You both erupted in giggles at the absurdity of your actions, not caring who could see you outside like fools.

Jamie spun you around and dipped you effortlessly. You danced for a few minutes, practicing your best couple moves with each other.

“Thanks for being crazy with me and pretending we’re the main characters in a teen movie,” you laughed. You smiled as you and Jamie were now quite close, only a few inches separating you from his lips.

“I’d dance in the rain with you any day, Y/N,” Jamie said, kissing you in the middle of the storm.

————————————————————————

This was a random little idea that came to me when it rained the other day!! Hope you enjoyed it!☔️

[nhularin]

FAVORITE CRIME

PAIRING theater kid! sunoo x theater kid! reader GENRE highschool AU, theater partner to friends to strangers, angst no comfort WARNINGS insecurities, this is probably the worst fic ive ever written im sorry, barely proofread WC 1.3k series masterlist

January 25th, 2008

D-29

"set, action!"

" i am afraid" you whispered loudly enough, face mirroring that of your character.

"it's i am NOT afraid, not im afraid. IN POSITION!" the obnoxious voice of Kim Gyuvin echoed through the empty theater hall

as the bright stage lights illuminated the auditorium, the air buzzed with anticipation and exhaustion. It was the third rehearsal of your schools rendition of "highschool musical," and the leads, sunoo as troy (which was a strange combination if you had to admit) and you, although a complete newbie in acting, as gabriella. it was not long till your work of art was about to take the stage.

you looked at your partner, eyes filled with guilt as you sighed "im sorry, not my day" he only laughed and gave you a sympathetic smile "its okay, gyuvin is just being an ass today because mr Kim didnt like his freestyle presentation of macbeth" sunoo shook his head " he rapped, yn, rapped the damn play out" you both giggled, finding fondness in the silly actions of your director (you honestly dont know why he was chosen"

"Hey! silence! and get into position!" the boy of your talk yelled, looking at them with his best stern face but ended up looking like a butthurt child. gyuvin pointed at sunghoon and heeseung, who both wore a bored expression on their face "rat 01 and rat 02, lighting!"

D-13

throughout the entire rehearsal process, sunno had been nothing short of a perfect scene partner. he was kind, supportive, funny and always there to lend a helping hand to your clumsy self. you couldn't help but feel , call yourself delusional, a deep connection growing between you two that went beyond the boundaries of the childish, superficial relationship of troy and gabriella.

He would leave post-it notes on your locker, filled with kind words and reminders of your talent. yoy would find them every morning, a small burst of positivity to start your day.

but it didn't stop there. the golden boy would often leave juice bottles on your desk, knowing how important it was for yoy to take care of your voice. sunoo would write silly little notes in class as well, reminding you to stay hydrated and take breaks when needed.

D-10

their rehearsals were filled with laughter and shared dreams. sunoos enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself falling foolishly deeper into the role of gabriella with each passing day. you admired his dedication and his ability to bring out the best in the team's performance.

as the days turned into weeks, you began to feel a connection with sunoo that went beyond your characters and your delusions. sparks flew, an unspoken understanding that seemed to blossom between you. your interactions became more personal, your conversations filled with warmth and vulnerability.

one evening, after a particularly exhausting rehearsal, he had walked you home despite his route from school being in the opposite direction, your footsteps echoing through the quiet streets. you talked and talked, about the magic of theater and the scary future after highschool. it was in that moment, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, that you felt your heart skip a beat.

D-5

But as the premiere of the play approached, something changed. Sunoo's smiles became fewer and further between, his once cheerful demeanor replaced with a distant look in his eyes. Confused and hurt, you tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but he began to withdraw

He would avoid eye contact, brush off your attempts at conversation, and disappear without explanation. your heart ached with every rejection, the pain of his sudden indifference growing with each passing day.

D-1

On the night of the performance, your heart sank as you noticed sunoos cold stare from across the stage. the chemistry you had worked so hard to build was replaced by an icy tension backstage. every line, every touch felt forced, lacking the authenticity you had once shared.

After the final bow, you searched for answers, desperate to understand what had caused this sudden change. But Sunoo continued to ignore you in the hallways, as if you were a mere stranger he had never met. The reader's heart shattered into a million pieces, unable to comprehend the pain of being cast aside so abruptly.

- D-13

days turned into weeks, and your anguish only deepened. sunoos silence was deafening, and the unanswered questions tormented you every waking moment. was it all just an act? had your connection been nothing more than an illusion?

one evening, as you sat alone in your house, your parents nowhere to be seen, contemplating the shattered remnants of what once was, you spotted a note tucked beneath your door. It was a familiar sight - a post it note, just like the ones the boy who unknowingly broke your heart used to send you. with trembling hands, you unfolded the note and read the words that lay before you: "I'm sorry."

confusion mingled with hope as your heart skipped a beat. without hesitation, you rushed outside to your front yard, determined to uncover the truth of his silence. as you rounded the corner to your treehouse, there he stood, anxiously awaiting your arrival. the look in his eyes was something you have never seen before, the cheerful boy from school now looked disheveled and broken and you could see the weight of regret pressing upon his shoulders.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," sunoo exclaimed, his voice filled with remorse and something you couldn't decipher. "I thought it would be easier this way, but I was wrong. at first, i only befriended you in sake of the play, but you kept plaguing my mind at every waking hour. so i tried to distance myself to focus on our performance."

tears welled up in your eyes as the truth washed over you. sunoos actions were not born out of cruelty, but rather out of fear and self preservation. in his attempt to protect his own heart, he unknowingly shattered yours.

with a trembling voice, you spoke up "i get that" your voice cracked "i really do, but you could've talked to me before completely ignoring my presence. you weren't the only main character in this play. and do you know what's the most important thing in theater? communication. please dont push me away, youre important to me"

in that moment, the barriers between you began to crumble. walls of misunderstanding and pain came crashing down, revealing the raw vulnerability that lay beneath. And just like the tragic love story they had once portrayed on stage, Sunoo and you found yourselves in front of each other, heart more broken than the other's

"im sorry, yn"

and he left, with your heart in his hand

PERM TAGLIST @misokei @avocarua @sngvhs @essmarye @haechansbbg

SERIES' MASTERLIST @flwerfield @hyhees @mrchweeee @j1nniee @mikaluvsyouu @delulu4-life @mora134340 @beomsbeanie @leep0ems @cIphantom-hive @yla-aira @filmofhybe @nishik1 @iea-tsand

[april-is]

April 5, 2024: May 5, 2020, John Okrent

May 5, 2020 John Okrent

It is beautiful to be glad to see a person every time you see them, as I was to see Juan, the maintenance man, with whom it was always the same brotherly greeting—each of us thumping a fist over his heart and grinning, as though we shared a joke, or bread. I barely knew him. Evenings in clinic, me finishing my work, him beginning his— fluorescence softening in the early dark. He wasn't even fifty, had four grandchildren, fixed what was broken, cleaned for us, caught the virus, and died on his couch last weekend. And what right have I to write this poem, who will not see him in his uniform of ashes, only remember him, in his Seahawks cap, and far from sick, locking up after me, turning up his music.

--

More like this:

Say Thank You Say I’m Sorry, Jericho Brown

When people say, “we have made it through worse before”, Clint Smith

Today in:

2023: Homeric Hymn, A.E. Stallings 2022: The Mower, Philip Larkin 2021: When people say, “we have made it through worse before”, Clint Smith 2020: Untitled, James Baldwin 2019: To Yahweh, Tina Kelley 2018: from how many of us have them?, Danez Smith 2017: Sad Dictionary, Richard Siken 2016: Lucia, Ravi Shankar 2015: Overjoyed, Ada Limón 2014: Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing, Margaret Atwood 2013: Anniversary, Cecilia Woloch 2012: Poem for Jack Spicer, Matthew Zapruder 2011: Now comes the long blue cold, Mary Oliver 2010: Jackie Robinson, Lucille Clifton 2009: In the Nursing Home, Jane Kenyon 2008: To the Couple Lingering on the Doorstep, Deborah Landau 2007: White Apples, Donald Hall 2006: Late Confession, Gary Soto 2005: Steps, Frank O’Hara

[3garcons]

Half Waif at the Lift Series in Troy Music Hall April 2023

early edition

[a-french-coconut]

Protector of Youth

Chapter 1 : Troilus (Athena)

There are whispers in the great halls of Olympus.

Quiet rumours travelling the streets of the golden city, about the greek army getting closer to the city's walls.

Apollo pays them no mind, it won't change the inevitable.

The future of Troy is already written and he cannot change it for all he wishes to.

His beloved Ilium shall fall in the monstrous hands of the Achaeans in less than ten winters.

His heart clenches at the thought of the royal family.

Wise king Priam and beautiful queen Hecuba.

Brave Hector and faithful Andromache, holding protectively against her breast young Scamandrius.

And Troilus, his precious son whose fate is unclear, his string not yet etched in the tapestry of Fate.

He could survive and depart with Aeneas, help him found Rome.

He could reach his twentieth birthday and save his city as it is prophesied. He is merely twelve now but he would grow into an amazing warrior.

He could die when the Greeks plunder Ilium and its wealths.

Endless possibilities, all ensuring a dark future for his son.

There is no world where Troy stands strong and his beloved Troilus doesn't loose all his family.

But he can help him survive the slaughter, guide him to Aeneas so that he may live.

He watches fondly his son and Polyxena sneak away from the city into the country land, laughing quietly in order not to get caught.

He doesn't interfere, they are far from the battlefield, no harm will come to them.

And if danger there is, Troilus knows to pray to him for he will always protect a young boy, especially his son.

Terpsichore calls him, the Muse happily dancing with nymphs and satyrs and offering to join.

With one last look to his son, Apollo lets himself get lost in the dance and the music, his golden tunics and gleaming long hair swirling around him as he leaves in awe all the onlookers.

As he sings alongside the Muses, he doesn't notice Athena leaving Mount Olympus in direction of the Achaean camp.

A temple is a god's most sacred place.

A place of refuge of his devotees, a place where no harm can be done or human blood can be shed.

No mortal in their right mind would ever dare desecrating such a sacral place.

And yet, Apollo can feel his temple has been corrupted.

He abruptly stops dancing, eyes a molten golden as the crowd parts it two to let him pass.

Whoever prideful mortal thought he would get away with is unscathed is awfully wrong.

Apollo is the Sun.

He sees all, knows all.

Nothing, and no one, can hope escape his divine justice.

When he arrives at the temple, everything is silent.

No wind swaying in the trees.

No birds chirping on the branches.

Eery silence.

On the temple's marches are laid the bloody corpses of his priests, stomach gutted open and white milky eyes frozen in terror.

Disrespecting his temple is already a punishable offence.

Killing his followers is an act worthy of a painful death.

He's going to burn them alive, to hear their scream echoing in the heavens and turn it into a melodious harmony.

Their death is recent, their bodies still soft and not rigid.

He frowns, why would they have been killed outside the building ?

He climbs the marches, passing through the already open gates.

At first he doesn't understand.

Then, his grief echoes like the howling of a wolf, deafening every creatures having not fled fast enough.

At the Greek camp, Achilles quietly joins his tent, ignoring Patroclus' curious gaze.

On Olympus, Athena requires an audience with the King.

He crumbles on his knees, his mouth producing a shrilling sound of discord, despair and rage.

In front of him, his Troilus watches him with horror, mouth open in a silent scream.

He carefully lift his head's son and cradles it, the rest of the body scattered in limbs across the room.

Polyxena is there too, but Apollo only cares about Troilus.

"Oh, my beloved son ! How have I failed you !"

He is the Protector of Youth, the one young boys pray to and cut their hair for him.

How ?

Why didn't he hear his prayers ?

"I'm sorry for your suffering", he whispers in a broken voice, "but I find small comfort in knowing you in Elysium, a place I'm sure you'll find to your liking."

He slowly gathers the body's pieces and takes them out the temple to burn them.

He places two drachmas of his son's eyes, and Polyxena's too, before lightning the fire.

That's when he notices two small things on the ground next to him.

A string of blond hair, coated with blood.

A owl's feather gleaming golden.

Pure hot white rage boils the ichor within his veins, his divinity pulsing against his human form, cracking it and deforming it.

The air around him becomes unbearably hot, sizzling against his skin.

Athena

Achilles

In a flash, his bow is drawn, an arrow ready to pierce that arrogant demigod's talon.

But when he tries to release the string, invisible chains bind him, not letting him shoot his arrow.

Hector will die before Achilles

He screams again, in frustration this time, sending the arrow in the nearby tree, combusting in flames.

Lightning strikes next to him despite the blue sky.

A summon, one he can't ignore.

He bids one last goodbye to his son's ashes resting on the burning pyre before disappearing in a flash of burning light.

"Father."

He bows slightly to Zeus, "may I ask why you summon me in my time of grieving ?"

"Such emotions for a mere mortal. You should know better than that brother, you are after all the all who prophesied his death."

A beat passes.

Inhale, calm the inferno growing.

Oxygen flood its blood, the boiling flames greedily inhaling the air to grow only stronger.

Skin cracks, ichor drips from the tight closed fits.

Divine essence seeps from cracks, pure heat dripping on his body.

Exhale, don't make harsh decisions.

"We are gods, Apollo. You will get over his death, don't burden us with all that misplaced sentiment."

With the howling of a wolf, form barely human, Apollo lunges himself at Athena, snarling and scratching her with his bare hands.

He feels like a supernova, like a star ready to explode.

He attacks her without any strategy, all he wants is to hurt her, to claw right into her essence and making it burn.

"Apollo, stop this madness at once !", she orders him, conjuring her spear to block his attacks.

He screams in return, a piercing sound, a screech really as he relentlessly lungs himself at her.

He is going to kill her, to send her to Tartarus.

Athena is a warrior but Apollo is a hunter.

And she is his prey.

Terrible bright light blinds the whole room, she winces, her grip on her weapon weakens.

He rips the spear out her arms and she is left defenceless for mere seconds.

It's all he needs.

He sees her throat, her unguarded throat. The only weak spot of her armour.

He can already feel the taste of ichor in his mouth, taste the fear and pain of the prideful goddess.

He bares his teeth, fully ready to plunge them in the bare flesh when familiar pain hits him, sending him tumbling on the ground.

Athena looks at him with wide eyes, his skin charred black from the lightning bolt their father just hit him with.

"Enough !", the King thunders, "Control yourself Apollo ! You are no minor god, you are an Olympian. Don't cover us with shame with such irresponsible attitude."

"She killed my son ! In my temple." he roars back, struggling to get back up.

"If I may Lord Father," Athena intervenes, "I had planned for Achilles to kill Troilus out in the wild. I did not expect the child to put up such fight."

Only the tingling of ozone in the air prevents him from conjuring a knife and gut her open.

"It doesn't matter what you intentions were, daughter. Apollo has suffered a great offence in the profanation of his temple."

He clenches his fist, trembling.

His son is dead, killed in the most gruesome way, and all Zeus cares about is that he was killed in the temple.

Should have Achilles killed Troilus when Athena intended him to, his father wouldn't even bother making this meeting.

"I ask for rightful punishment Father."

"I shall grant you the right to act as you wishes Apollo."

"When Achilles' time comes, I want to be the one to kill him.", he growls.

"As you wish my son. Now that this quarrel his deal with, I shall leave you. I have more urgent matters to take care of."

Zeus vanishes in a flash, leaving him alone with Athena in the throne room.

He sees her conjuring her shield, fearsome Aegis, and take a defensive stance but Apollo is too tired to attack her again.

A quarrel, a bickering between Athena and him. That's how his father views Troilus' death.

"If you don't agree with my actions brother, then at least understand them. Troy is fated to fall, but your son presented a chance of salvation." Athena's gaze hardens, "I will not have Ilium standing, not after the offence that pitiful prince caused me."

"That is your justification then, pride ?", he chuckles bitterly, "Will you not apologise for leading that murdered to my son ."

She bristles at the mention of it but nonetheless obliges.

"If it brings comfort then yes, I apologise for you son's brutal death. I agree that was no need for him to die in pain."

"You favour a mortal, don't you ?", he asks her, "what is his name again ?"

Her eyes narrow, "what are your intentions with Odysseus ?"

"Aha ! That's his name. Odysseus. I ought to right the crime done against me, against Achilles but also the whole greek army. They did plunder my temples and enslaved my priestesses."

"Don't tempt my patience Apollo, what do you want with Odysseus ?"

"I think I want to kill him", he snarls, looking right in Athena's eyes, "I want to strike him with one of my most despicable plagues, to see him suffer. I want him to see his dear Penelope and Telemachus in his dreams, knowing he won't ever see them again."

He gets closer to Athena, whispering right in front of her.

"What I want, Athena, is to see you suffer."

Before he can blink, the tip of her spear rests on his throat, her grey eyes radiation divine power.

"You will do no such thing," she hisses, "Odysseus is destined to become a great hero, I will not allow you to tamper with his fate."

"Like you did with my son's", he hisses back, yanking the spear away.

'Tell me, Wise One, what gives the right to kill Troilus because you felt like it but I cannot touch Odysseus ?"

"Troilus was fated to die", she says more calmly, "by one of your own prophecies."

"Troilus was fated to save Troy !", he shoots, "He was fated to sail with Aeneas on the wide sea ! Death was not the only option awaiting him. Death was the one you chose because you feared him."

He's panting heavily, eyes surely glowing golden.

"I'm going to kill Odysseus in front of you sister, you will watch as life leaves his eyes and you will watch it all because no prophecy protects him."

To his frustration, Athena smirks.

"Odysseus will not die by your hand Phoebus. I guarantee so."

It's her turn to get closer, confidence swaying around her.

"He is Hermes' great grandson. One he likes for reasons I care not to know. Which one do you value more, revenge against me or your friendship with our brother ?"

He doesn't say anything, fury growing as her smiles does too.

"We both the answer, do we not ? Then it's settled, Odysseus will live through this war and come back to Ithaca and his wife and son."

He stubbornly stays silent.

"That is the problem with emotional attachments Apollo," she says kindly, "they are so easily manipulated. I can only advise you to stop succumbing to them."

"I am emotions Athena, art is not something you can create without them."

She shrugs, clearly not interested in this debate.

"I'll see you soon brother, my soldiers await me on the battlefield. I need to show Ares that he's brutal force is nothing compared to my strategy."

She flashes away in the flock of feathers.

Years are less than the blink of an eye for a god.

He is standing on Troy's walls, looking at the man climbing them.

He is wearing Achilles' armour but Apollo is Truth, no disguisement can deceive him.

He kicks down Patroclus three times but the boy is persistent.

When he set foot on the wall for the fourth time, he sends him down with divine force, the blow hurting Patroclus when he touches the ground.

For an instant, he lays unmoving.

Enough time for him to get swarmed by Trojans, but still he puts up a impressive defence.

But he is no match for Hector, whose face when he discovers the trickery falls.

Hector will die before Achilles

When Achilles pierces Hector's throat, Apollo watches mournfully and horrified the treatment reserved of the prince of Troy.

Truly, Achilles has no respect in the gods.

But Hector is dead, which means Achilles will be soon.

There is no mistaking the wish of the son of Thetys to die. He lunges himself on the battlefield but no opponent is strong enough to face him and win.

He repeats a name constantly, his voice yearning for him.

Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus

Apollo hates Achilles for killing his son.

But he understands the loss of a lover.

Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus, Hyacinthus

So, he gently takes Paris' trembling arms, strings the bow who releases Achilles from his torment.

When the warrior falls, an arrow embedded in his talon, a smile adorns his face.

After his death, the war continues as it was fated.

Illium falls.

And Apollo watches.

[hanbin-s-ssi]

ménage à trois || Lee Jeno x Yoo Jimin x Na Jaemin (s)

content: threesome, double penetration, pet names, degradation if you squint | established relationship, polyamorous relationship | sex toys, exhibitionism

pairings: idol!jeno x idol!karina x idol!jaemin

words: 1k

a/n: thank you @notjuniper for the request and for your patience ! I hope this helps to forget abt exams for a little while <3

-☘️-

‘Slow down, pretty,’ the words tumbled off of Jaemin’s lips and onto Jimin’s in a breathless clash of lips and tongues as she continued to grind her hips into him, his playful taunting falling on love drunk ears and making her insides flutter. Hardly anything could snap her out of it when she got like this; emboldened by a bit of soju and soft music that was only just loud enough to cover the sounds of her wet pussy lips kissing his pelvic bone.

And an audience of one.

Jaemin’s fingers knot around her gorgeous hair at the back of her head and pull her lips away from his just as he applies pressure to the jeweled plug nestled inside her ass. The sounds she makes almost make him want to beg her to be exclusive again.

‘Jeno, come here,’ Jaemin calls from across the room where the man in question was stood frozen in the doorway. It’d been so long since the last time they’d gotten to share her at the dorm.

So long since they could really take the time to pull her apart. Suddenly, Jeno was so glad he’d opted out of video games as he crossed the hall into his friend’s room, leaving the door ajar as he found it. She looked so good on top of him, the string panties she was wearing pushed aside and her pretty blush cardigan hanging from her arms, her only pieces of clothing as she straddled his waist, stuffed full of his friend and his favorite, pink heart-shaped butt plug. Jaemin’s fingers were sunken into the soft flesh of her ass, ceasing her bouncing and the sticky sound with it immediately.

Jimin’s labored breathing shook her body atop his and she wrapped her arms around his neck, dark eyes staring at his immaculate profile and smile as he stared only at Jeno, transfixed. Jaemin’s hand came down from her head and slid the plug free from her taut orifice easily, her body shaking again, ears and cheeks burning as she considered her position; the entirety of her sure to be on display. There was hardly time to feel self conscious— he was already moving again.

Slowly, deliberately Jaemin grabbed her hips and began to pull out of her, keeping her open and bare, presenting her as if an offering so Jeno could watch him slide all the way out until only the tip of him was nestled between her folds. The movement was an anchor pulling Jeno’s jaw to the floor and his dick to the sky. He was parched, his control like fine porcelain on a precarious slope.

‘I prepped her for you, but only with the plug. I know how you get when you don’t get to have her first,’ Jaemin whispered, making her skin buzz with anticipation, her fingernails curving into the skin of his shoulders. Jeno’s ears rung with the sound of breaking glass and he moved. There was rustling behind her, a loud thud like Jeno had maybe tripped and then there was a third hand on her ass, cooler and rough, squeezing the flesh on the back of her thighs and running over her skin obsessively. Another set of fingers lightly brushed over her taut entrance, teasingly applying pressure every now and again.

Jimin thought she was sobbing but she couldn’t quite remember if her cheeks had been wet before Jaemin’s teasing. Back when he was begging to worship her.

‘You don’t have to be gentle,’ Jaemin instructed, still staring at Jeno, enamored. He moved one hand off her ass to allow his friend room to grope and squeeze and stroked the back of her head soothingly. ‘You can take it, can’t you, baby?’ He looked down at her then,—eyes full of playful, sinful mischief— to observe Jimin’s eager nod.

She felt the full thickness of Jeno slide into her ass, the two sighing, deep and guttural, Jeno’s beautiful face twisting in pleasure, fingers gripping her waist as if to bruise and Jimin pressing her face into Jaemin’s neck as she was pushed right back down into his length entirely.

Full was a couple dozen muscle spasms ago.

Jeno started to move, perfect hips picking up speed and snapping sharply into the soft flesh of her ass as he drove her muscle apart like it was his only goal. It almost always was since they started training her to take him and he couldn’t ever be prouder of the way she tried to push back into his thrusts, meeting him halfway each time, like she wasn’t a sputtering, crying mess between them, a smile sliding across his lips.

‘That’s it.’ Jaemin encouraged, putting pressure on her lower back so she ground into his pelvis again when she threw her hips back. His eyes fell briefly to where Jeno was disappearing inside her, suddenly a little jealous. He could feel her drip onto his balls. Jeno’s fingers curled over her slight shoulder, unpeeling her from Jaemin and bringing his lips to her ear, pulling her arms back, eyes snapping to the boy’s under her and holding his gaze as he fed her praises and threats and epithets and curses.

‘Fuc— nngh,’ Jaemin drawled, eyes sliding shut as he drowned in the effects Jeno had on Jimin’s perfect body. He could feel her insides flutter and soften and slicken around his girth, making his hips buck up into her warmth, falling into rhythm with Jeno’s sharp thrusts. Her plump lips and cheeks shiny and rouged from all of it, her breasts swaying hypnotically above him as the two of them fucked her open. She was still so pretty even with her long hair fully a mess, strands sticking to her wet skin. Jaemin sucked his teeth to himself, running a hand over her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, her rib cage as she rocked into them, muscles spasming. He wondered how they would manage to pry themselves off of her.

[sissytobitch10seconds]

With Him, All is Well

Fandom: EPIC: The Musical Summary: Polites noticed that Odysseus was getting a message from the gods or a headache when they were in that final battle against Troy. As the medic and the king's best friend, he had to follow him to Odysseus' new hiding spot to check on him. That was where he found the baby, the teeny tiny baby in desperate need of a new parent thanks to the war waging around them. Warnings: Infant death, graphically depicted complications in childbirth, trans man pregnancy, canon divergence, mention off-screen deaths, and heavy angst Word Count: 9,701 Ship(s): Polites & Astyanax

Archive link!

A/N: So I was discontent with the amount of mpreg in this fandom (especially non-tertiary Mpreg because I wanna read about the EPIC characters and not people from other Greek sagas) so I decided that I was going to fix it myself. I decided to format it like this because of a scene in a movie called From Up on Poppy Hill where a mother of a recently deceased baby immediately takes the new infant she's brought and there's no way that baby is leaving her arms. I gave that to Polites because he is very quickly becoming my blorbo for this fandom. Make sure that you read the tags and take them seriously! I'm not joking around with these triggers. That being said, I hope that you can all still enjoy! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Polites knew that something was wrong the moment that Odysseus stumbled in battle.

It wasn’t uncommon for a soldier to lose their footing when they were scaling the sea-slick walls of a castle or trying to make their way through the slain bodies of their enemies. However, Odysseus was one of the best fighters within their entire army. He also hadn’t slipped and then steadied himself like he would have if he had just gotten a bit distracted and lost his normal grace. He had stumbled and then fallen down to his knee while gripping his head.

The moment that he had gotten back to his feet, he had turned on his heel and was heading off in a different direction than he had been heading before. Polites had been friends with Odysseus for almost their entire childhood and knew that he a relationship with the gods that not a lot of the others did. Odysseus was the chosen general of the goddess Athena and she spoke to him through his mind, sometimes sending him visions that would suplex him down into unconsciousness for a few seconds.

Polites was very worried that his friend was getting involved in something that he wouldn’t be able to get himself out of. He knew that Athena had done a lot to help them in the war effort, when she wasn’t chasing after the golden apple that had caused them to get involved in this whole mess, but there was a chance that it was another god that was interfering with Odysseus.

He wasn’t about to let his friend get into a mess without someone there to watch his back. He tightened the last of the bandages around the wounded Greek soldier’s arm that he had been working on and then sprang to his feet. He clung tight to the bag containing all of his medical supplies as he rushed through the fierce battle. He felt light on his feet and powerful within the moonlight as his own patron deity watched over him to make sure that he was not slain while trying to do his job.

He made his way up the steps, missing the spots of blood and gore from the battle that was still waging around him. He then had to pause as he tried to figure out where his friend had gone, but it was revealed to him when he heard the flapping of large wings and the angry voice of Odysseus. He took down the hall towards the room where Odysseus was, pumping his legs as fast as he could go so that he would get there before something happened.

“Ody!” Polites shouted as he opened the door to reveal what could only be a nursery. The walls and floors were the smooth marble that all of Troy had been, but in the center of the room near one of the windows was a beautifully carved wooden cradle. Inside was a series of blankets to keep the occupant warm. Odysseus was kneeling in front of the cradle with tears streaking down his face, and a massive eagle was seated on the edge of the window that looked towards the moon.

The aforementioned general pulled away from where he had been crying over the infant and turned towards where he heard the noise. “Polites, what are you doing here?” he asked as he stood up. He used the back of his hand to wipe up the tears that were still streaming from his usually bright eyes.

“I saw you have that vision and I came to check on you. What’s going on?” he asked as he stepped into the room and let the wooden door fall shut behind him.

“It does not concern you, mortal. This is a task that the King of Ithaca is going to have to face alone,” a voice said, emanating from the eagle sitting in the window. It boomed and rattled through Polites the way that the summer snap storms did when they rolled in from where the waves were lapping at the coast and threatening to swallow homes. He recognized it immediately as Zeus, the king of the gods and the most temperamental of all the Olympians.

He bowed deeply to the eagle so that nothing he did from then on would be considered to be ignorance. He had been taught from a very young age what he was supposed to do when the gods appeared before him or even when he was dealing with a very powerful spirit. His father had been very spiritual and connected to the gods, after all. “Forgive me, God King, but I have to stay with my friend. It’s not safe for him to be on his own when a war is going on.”

“Polites,” Odysseus whimpered. He looked so broken and fragile, which was something that Polites had seen a couple of times before. Usually that kind of thing had to deal with his wife and son, not the war that they were fighting. The reason that he had been chosen to be Athena’s personal general was due to the fact that he was cold and responsible when they were at war instead of being emotional the way that Achilles and even Polites was.

“What’s going on with you, my friend?” Polites asked as he placed a hand on Odysseus’ arm.

“The baby,” he gasped. “I have to kill him.”

Those words alone sent a shock of terror down his spine. He was a healer and a medic, he knew what it was to have to put someone out of their misery instead of letting them fester with a wound that was actively eating them alive. He didn’t know what kind of monster would have done something like that to a child, though, and why Odysseus would be the one that had to kill the child instead of one of their parents. “What? Why in all three realms would you have to kill a baby? Is he sick or hurt?” Polites asked.

“He’s going to grow up to become an avenger, he’s the son of Prince Hector,” Odysseus could barely get the words out around the haggard breathes that he was taking.

Polites stepped forward naturally and helped his friend into a sitting position. He stepped up to the bassinet and peered over the side at the little one inside. The baby did look a bit like Hector, in the way that every baby could look like their parents when someone was searching for the right pieces. “He’s a baby, he has the potential to become anything,” Polites argued. “The only way that he would grow up and want to avenge anything was if we left him here.”

“I tried- I tried to argue that,” Odysseus sobbed. “The God King has informed me that even if we bring the child with us or we send him far, far away, there will always be a way that he figures out who his father was and what happened to him.”

Something tugged at his heart as the memory of bloodied sheets and exhausted muscles pulled at the back of his mind. He leaned down and placed his hands underneath Astyanax so that he could pick the babe up and lean him against his body. It felt as it always did when he picked up a child, heavy and warm beyond what a normal human body felt like. He knew that this was right, that the baby belonged there. His parents may have perished in the war that was waging around them, but there were plenty of people in the world that were willing to help raise him to be a good and kind man.

“I will take him,” Polites said. “I know that Odysseus would not be able to raise him because of the involvement that he had in the war by being a king, but I had no such relation to it. I only served as a medic, making sure that my men and the citizens of the city did not die. I can bring him up be a good and kind man, I know it.”

“That is not the way that this night, and his future, will go. If the babe does not die, then he will grow to be a man that wants nothing more than to strike down all your comrades and those that you love,” Zeus spoke from the eagle once more. The storm that crashed against the stones of the palace ramped up so that strikes of lightning were the only thing illuminating the space that they occupied. “Odysseus must be the one to cast him from the wall, down onto the rocks and into the sea.”

“I will not let that happen,” Polites said, taking a step back. He reached down and tugged the blanket up around Astyanax’s face so that the chill wouldn’t get to him and wake him up. “Hush love, you must be quiet,” he whispered when he heard the whimper emanate from the baby. His heart felt like it was already bleeding within his chest at the idea of having to do so much as give the babe to someone else, much less giving it back to Odysseus or Zeus so that they could kill him. This was his child, even if he had only know Astyanax for a few moments.

“No one would be able to be a good enough parent to undo the damage that the war as unknowingly done to that child,” Zeus said from the window.

“Let me try,” Polites was practically begging. He knew that he had been rather crass with the god when he had demanded something without all the proper formality that he should have added, but he was prepared to do all the groveling and ego stroking that the gods required if it meant that he got to keep Astyanax safely where he belonged. “Please, I know that I can do it.”

He got onto his knees, though the child was still held in his hands. His head was bowed down so that his spectacles fell forward down his nose, barely hanging on. He could feel tears welling in his own eyes as he poured his heart out to the prayer that was forming. “Please, I swear that I will do everything in my power to raise this child so that he may continue his life without decimating the kings of Greece. Please, you must give me a chance.”

“You are overstepping, mortal,” Zeus replied dismissively. 

The clouds in the behind the eagle in the window parted to reveal the crystal clear night sky. The stars, constellations of men that had once been heroes as great as Polites’ best friend and as wicked as the men that they had defeated, twinkled down at him like they were the ones answering his prayers. Polites turned his head towards the bright shining moon, marveling in the beauty of the sheer white light that was pouring down from the window. She was already here, watching over him as she always was. He may not have had the same relationship with his patron as Odysseus did, but Artemis watched him as closely as she could and helped him with the protection that he had done for many young women.

The moonbeam in front of him shimmered once, twice, thrice, before it turned into the aforementioned goddess. Artemis stood tall in front of the eagle, her entire body ringed the silvery white light that had been cast by the moon moments before. Her hair was tightly woven back behind her head, a single braid composed of all the ones that kept her hair manageable when she was on a hunt with her chosen few. She wore a white chiton that flowed around her like the night wind coming off of the tide. Her bow was clasped in her hand and the antler or a deer in the other.

“I’m afraid that this is where you are wrong, Father,” Artemis spoke. Her voice was soft and harsh at the same time, like a lullaby from a parent that was beyond exhausted. It was the most reassuring thing that Polites had heard in a long time and he was happy to bask in it.

“Daughter, what do you mean?” Zeus asked.

“I promised this young man a baby a long, long time ago. I refuse to deny him that joy a second time. He deserves the child and I believe that he does have the capability to raise Astyanax to be a good person,” Artemis said. 

“Fine,” the eagle replied. With a single flap of his massive golden wings, he had risen into the night sky and disappeared. Polites only had a moment to wonder if the other soldiers down below in the battlefield had seen the god and what they thought was happening in the nursery.

Artemis turned after disappearing the items she had come with. She knelt before Polites with a small smile on her beautiful face. “Sometimes I still wish that you had been the type of person that could have joined my hunt, but this is a far better path for you and now I understand why you chose it. I hope that you enjoy your life with your child. But you must be careful, I will not be able to do anything more for you as you live on.”

“I understand, my goddess,” Polites said. “Thank you for giving me this chance.”

The shimmering from before grew so intense that he had to shield his eyes to avoid being blinded by it. When he opened them again, the patron that he had dedicated so much of his early life to had disappeared. He could feel the absence of her like he had removed a blanket from himself while he was sleeping during the night. It wasn’t something that was going to hurt him or prevent him from living a long, happy life, but there was a sense of comfort that had disappeared.

“I didn’t know that you were going to join Artemis’ hunt,” Odysseus spoke up as they both rose to their feet and prepared to go back to where the rest of their comrades were.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Ody,” Polites replied. “The time after I broke up with you-know-who was really hard for me. I thought that it would be easier to try and purify myself and join the hunt, but then I found that thing out.”

“Right. Makes sense why you didn’t tell me,” Odysseus nodded in understanding. The duo walked silently down to the main court of the palace so that they were with the rest of their friends. It was easy for them to forget about the gods appearing before them and what had happened in the nursery, despite Astyanax being curled up against Polites’ chest.

---

The crew readily accepted that the baby as coming back with them, which might have been another gift from Artemis. She had said something to Polites when Odysseus was trying to calm down from the panic that hearing he was going to kill a defenseless baby had brought him. No one asked if Polites was the right person to be caring for Astyanax or if they were going to be able to support a baby when they were sailing back to Ithaca. They just immediately adjusted to it, a few of the men even arguing about who got to go on the main ship with Polites and the baby.

It was easy for them to stock up on the food that they needed for the first wing of their journey, it wasn’t like the Trojans were going to need a lot of the stores that were in the back of their army’s barracks. The problems arose when it took them a bit longer to find their way in the vast ocean than it had last time. The war had taken quite a bit of their own provisions and spoiled them due to how long they had been there, and they didn’t take as much from the Trojans as they had thought.

They spotted an island that glowed eerily, but they thought that there might be a sorcerer or cult of some kind that would give them food. Astyanax stayed back with Perimedes since that was the person that Polites trusted most outside of his best friend with his baby. On the island they found that there was food, but it was the enchanted lotus that would have trapped them there for the rest of their lives. They were able to locate another island with the help of Polites’ neverending patience and love for the world, but that had resulted in them being trapped in a cave with a very angry cyclopes.

Odysseus had Polites wrapped around his shoulders as he dragged his friend back to the ship. He wasn’t able to do it for any of the other men that had been closer to Polyphemus when he struck with his massive club, but he was relieved that he could for his best friend. Astyanax had only had his father for a few short months, after all. “Hey cyclops!” Odysseus cried, despite Athena shouting at him that he was being stupid.

Polites staggered to his feet and then vomited on their shoes. He definitely had a concussion, which was the least of what he could have gotten from a blow like that. “Ody, take me to my baby. I need my baby,” he mumbled drunkenly. 

All thoughts of telling the cyclopes who he was vanished from his mind as he focused instead on his friend. He yanked him onto the boat and then told his men to row away from the island as quickly as he could. Perhaps it would have been better if he had killed the monster instead of leaving him mutilated and unable to do what he had loved, but he couldn’t think of that as he focused on his friend.

“Get him somewhere steady and away from the light, he definitely has a concussion,” Odysseus said as he handed his friend over to Eurylochus. The other man was taller than him by almost an entire foot and broader as well, which meant that it was easy for him to scoop up the tiny man and bring him belowdecks so he could lay down. 

“M-my baby,” Polites managed to get out around the gagging. “Bring me my baby!”

“You’re sick, Po. You need to trust us, we’ll be able to take care of him properly. We’ve got a ewe who’s still making milk on board, so we’re going to be able to get him food while you’re out of it,” Eurylochus said soothingly. Odysseus was able to spy the scowl that rested on his best friend’s face at that sentiment. Polites had been nursing Astyanax since they had brought him on board, another gift from the goddess that had determined the baby was his it seemed. He was very protective of his baby during those feeding times like any parent would be, especially since it was their primary bonding time as Astyanax had been carried by another person entirely.

“Odysseus! Bring me my baby!” Polites shouted.

“I will, just lay down and be quiet while I get things sorted and get Asty to you,” he immediately replied. He should have continued to refuse his friend that desire, he knew that based on the look that Eurylochus gave him when he darted back onto the deck of the ship. Those words had brought back some fearsome, hard memories that he wanted to drive out of his mind or replace entirely.

---

Odysseus had been seventeen the last time that he heard his friend be injured. Polites was training to be a medic, so while he knew how to handle a sword and a spear in the case that he was in trouble and needed to defend himself, he didn’t spar the way that the other Ithaki men did. It wasn’t often that the other boy got involved in the kind of thing that would result in him letting out the muffled moans of pain that signaled hurt.

That had been until now, of course.

The last couple months had been really hard on them both, but especially on Polites. He had been courting a young man that was training with the army, but as all young romances did it had resulted in a breakup that left them both completely heartbroken. Polites had hidden himself away for almost a week while he was mourning the loss of a future that he had desperately wanted, only allowing Odysseus to see him. The young king hadn’t been able to spend as much time with his friend as he wanted, which was why the next bit of information had been such a shock to him.

It was revealed, a mere month after the breakup, that Polites was expecting a child. They hadn’t been shocked about it since his gender and transition had been something Odysseus was by his side for, but it was another massive step towards that place of mental and emotional anguish.

Odysseus had tried to be the best friend that he could be, but he didn’t have the type of counsel that he needed to assist his friend properly. Athena knew very little about children and seemed to be under the impression that the child would be born fully formed from Polites’ head like she had been from her own father, a misconception that had been cleared up only when Polites had started showing noticeably. Ctimene had been wrapped up in her torrent of suitors and unable to give him advice, the same also holding true for his mother since she needed to be there to save her daughter from handsy men. Penelope had been his only saving grace when it came to advice for how to deal with the situation. While she had not been pregnant herself, she had been around women and men carrying future children so was able to tell him what things to avoid and how to comfort Polites when he was crying or upset about something.

That had been until he went into labor. The four of them, Odysseus, Penelope, Ctimene, and Polites, had taken a picnic to the fields surrounding the town so that they could have some time to simply be teenagers. Odysseus had been feeling rather run off his feet as he handle being king and the main support system for his best friend. It was nice to simply sit near the olive groves, smelling the wind as it blew through the fields around them and eating the divine food that Ctimene had snuck from the kitchens. 

Polites looked uncomfortable, but he had since he had reached his third trimester. His belly was rounded with a child that would never know their father, but many of them knew that feeling and didn’t judge Polites for it. He was only able to sit without support for a couple of hours and completely unable to lay down on his back. Odysseus had moved his friend between his legs so that Polites could recline back and nap under the cool sun of the beautiful spring day that they were enjoying. 

It had lasted about an hour before he woke and groaned. It was the kind of long, drawn out sound that immediately worried the warrior behind him. He had heard people make that noise when they’d broken bones or twisted a muscle almost beyond repair. He had never heard someone make that noise when they were simply sitting and trying to rest. He immediately asked, “Po, are you alright?”

“I think that I will be soon,” he replied. He forced a smile onto his spectacled face, as though he were going to be hopeful about something very dour once more. While it was his special ability to turn anything bad into something good, it broke Odysseus’ heart to think about him doing that about his own situation when he was obviously miserable.

“What does that mean?” Ctimene asked, her brows creasing in worry the same way that Odysseus’ did. 

“I think that I’m in labor. I felt gross this morning but it kind of went away when we came up here so I thought I just had to relax. That was a contraction, though. I’ve had a couple of them while trying to nap, which is more than the practice ones I’ve had before. I’m finally going to meet my baby, which means that this is all going to be over,” Polites grinned. It made sense that he had said things were going to be better soon, he had been looking forward to the day that he was going to be able to hold his baby in his arms for months now.

“We should get you back down to the town then. None of us have the knowledge or prep to be able to help you with that,” Penelope said. She carefully began to place the dishes of olives and honeycakes and cheeses back into the basket that they had brought up with them. Ctimene helped her while Odysseus helped Polites to his feet, something that he had to do since Polites had begun to show noticeably.

They walked back down to Ithaca proper with only two contractions happening while they were walking. Penelope left to go find her siblings and father before she got in trouble for being away for too long. Ctimene ran ahead of them so that she could get the midwife and medical team taking care of Polites during his pregnancy before he arrived with Odysseus. When he did, the midwife informed him that since Odysseus did not carry the organs that would grow life, he was not permitted to enter the birthing quarters. Ctimene entered in his stead so that Polites would have someone his own age and a friend by his side while he became a parent.

The king had refused to leave, though. Most men would have busied themselves in their quarters while their nibling was born or while labors were underway, but he had been with Polites through all the most difficult things in his life and vice versa. Just because he couldn’t be within in the room, lest he scare off the goddesses of children and childbirth by having the wrong kind of energy, didn’t mean that he was going to leave Polites completely alone.

The heavy wooden doors blocked out the sound in the beginning. It was the small groans and little whimpers that it had been when he experienced the practice contractions or when they had been picnicking up on the hill. As time went on, the noises became more and more frequent until there was basically an unending tirade of them.

Odysseus had watched people come in and out of the room for hours. They fetched towels, sent soiled clothes to be laundered, and returned with even more fresh water. By the time that night fell and the labors within were truly underway, it felt like the young king was watching an army that had one foe to defeat whom was unrelenting.

He only truly grew afraid when the whimpers of pain turned to screams of anguish. He wanted to know what was going on, but he only managed to get some information after what felt like an eternity. A young assistant darted from the room with a mass of bloody sheets, which frightened Odysseus enough that he stepped in front of her, “What’s going on there? I demand that you tell me as your king.”

“The patient had a hemorrhage when he was preparing to birth the baby. We had to turn the babe within the wound and it knocked something free. Now please, Your Majesty, excuse me so that I cn get some clean linens,” the assistant said as she side stepped him and raced down the hallway.

Odysseus turned back towards the room and stepped towards it before he stopped himself. He knew that if he entered then the goddesses that watched over these kinds of proceedings might leave, which would put his friend at even more risk. He knew from his time with Polites, where they would share what they had learned during their lessons that day, that a hemorrhage meant a lot of blood lost from within the body. The idea of that happening while a babe was being rendered from someone’s womb sent a shock through him that almost had him on his knees.

He was filled with as much adrenaline as he was when he was sparring with some of the soldiers that he trained as king. He had to pace up and down the hall, only as far as the windows on the hallway wall that overlooked the courtyard in the center of the palace. He had to stay close by so that if something happened then he could be there for Polites. 

The screams turned from those of pain, sharp and painful even to those not experiencing it, to the bloodchilling shrieks of someone experiencing the most sorrow that they ever had in their entire lives, Odysseus stopped dead in his tracks. It was the kind of sound that he had only heard from his mother after Laertes had forgotten Anticlea entirely. It was the sound of someone that had lost something that they didn’t even fully grasp yet.

When the door opened and another person finally exited, he turned around to ask what was going on. He had opened his mouth for only a second before he clamped it shut. Ctimene was standing in front of him with another bloodied linen in her hands, something heavy but very, very still wrapped up within it. Her face was ashen and her eyes were somewhat closed already as she bowed her head so that tears would not fall. Behind her was Polites, spreading out on the bed.

He wold never forget that sight for as long as he lived. His oldest friend was laying supine on the bed with a sea of red spreading out from between his legs despite the fresh sheets that had been brought to him not twenty minutes ago. His skin was shining with the sweat that ran down his body in well-traced rivulets. He was shaking slightly as he clung to the hand of the assistant next to him. It took a moment for Odysseus to realize that he was crying, to the point where massive rolling sobs were contorting his body into himself. Something bloody, black and veined, was attached to his body and being tugged on by the head midwife.

“What are you doing to him?” Odysseus asked, almost angry with the medical team that was supposed to be caring for his friend.

“Ody,” Ctimene said quickly, snapping his attention back to her and away form Polites. “You have to take the baby.”

“What?” Odysseus asked, his brows knitting together with confusion as hers had hours ago during their lovely lunch.

“Ody, take the baby,” Ctimene urged. She passed the bundle of sheets over to him and it was only then that he saw the baby wrapped up within the soft cloth. Their face was peaceful, tiny mouth parted just a little bit and eyes looking up at him or past him. The thing that really told him something was wrong was their skin, which was clammy to the touch and pale as could be. The child was as white as the sheet and just as stained with blood from their parent.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice almost stolen by the screaming sobs that Polites was letting out behind them.

“The hemorrhage almost killed them both, we’re still working on getting it to not kill Po,” she replied. “I was told to take the baby away, but he needs me. You have to do this, Ody.”

“Right,” he whispered. He carried the baby carefully to his body as he stepped back, but that was apparently when his friend noticed that something was more wrong than it already had been.

“Bring me the baby! Please, I want to see my baby!” Polites screamed. He sat up as he tried to make a lurch off the bed to get to the dead child, but he was forced down by the many hands of the assistants and midwife. “Odysseus, bring me my baby!”

The screams and begging to see the child followed Odysseus as he walked through the halls of the palace with the baby cradled in his arms. He didn’t know when the soul of the newborn would properly leave their body or how much they had remembered, but he wanted them to know that their uncle had loved them very much. He was honored to be the person that brought them down to where their body would be prepared so that they could pass into the afterlife. 

He walked down to the edge of town where the funeral home rested. He knocked on the door and woke the keeper, who understood what had happened and didn’t say anything. He was led into the back where several other bodies, mostly the elderly and infirm, were being prepared for the funeral. He laid the baby down on the slab where he had been instructed to, watching as the sheet was removed and the newborn was cleaned of the remnants of birth. “Your friend had a girl, Your Majesty. Please let me know what name was supposed to be bestowed upon her for her funerary rights,” the undertaker asked. 

“I believe that a girl was supposed to be named Chloe because she was due during the spring,” he replied. He swallowed down the knot that had formed in his throat to try and avoid crying. This wasn’t even his child, and yet the screams of his best friend were haunting him no matter how hard he tried to block them out and the dead body in front of him was seared into his eyes.

“Chloe, daughter of Polites. Please, say goodbye to her for her father. I know how the midwife handles things, but her soul should know that she is loved,” the undertaker said as he stepped aside. The baby was just as pale as she had been before, but she was now tightly swaddled in a beautifully embroidered blanket from someone that had donated their child’s things once that child had finished with it, precisely for this reason. Maybe there would be a time when children did not die before they took their first breath, but this was all they could do at the present time.

“Artemis, please take her soul and protect it,” Odysseus whispered as he leaned down and kissed the baby’s head. “Your father loves you more than anyone has ever loved someone, of that I’m sure. I hope that you find respite wherever you are going.”

Polites wasn’t well after that. He spent weeks trying to recover from the birth due to how much blood he had lost. When he woke, he barely managed to eat and drink anything around the sobs that wracked him. Odysseus and Ctimene used all of the free time that they had to sit with him and care for him alongside the medical staff still tending to him. When he finally recovered enough to roam the palace, he had changed. He was more hopeful about things than he had been when he was pregnant, but there was an eternal sadness in his eyes and a hole in hs heart. He recovered more and more with every day, but he was never quite the same Polites that he had been.

---

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Perimedes asked as Odysseus took Astyanax back into his arms.

“I don’t think any of us want to find out what Po will do if he doesn’t get his baby back. Continue to sail towards home, please,” the captain replied.

“Of course, Captain,” the soldier replied quickly as he turned back to his duty at the helm of the ship.

Odysseus refused to look up and meet the eyes of the rest of his crew as he embarked on his mission once more. He could hear Athena in the back of his mind, “Odysseus, you and I both know that this is not a good plan. Polites has a concussion and several other injuries. If he tries to care for Astyanax on his own then it could lead to more peril for both of them.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “But you weren’t there to see the look on his face when I had to take Chloe.”

“You are feeling this too deep to make rational decisions, Odysseus. I suggest that you take my council since your own mind cannot be trusted in this matter,” Athena replied. Her voice had long since stopped sounding as booming and imposing as the other gods that he had spoken to. Artemis had sounded like the tinkling of the water in a brook as it ran over the pebbles within the bed. Zeus’ voice had sounded, appropriately, like the cracking of thunder and the raging of waves against the shore. Athena sounded like an old friend, comforting and familiar despite the eerie roboticism about the entire thing. If he hadn’t known her to come back from war with her own wounds, he would have asked if she was one of the famous automatons that her brother made.

“He’s my friend, Athena. I’m not going to keep his child from him. I will make someone stay with him, both to tend to his wounds and to care for the baby under his instructions,” he said. They had a set of around twenty medics that had accompanied with them to the war in Troy. They had lost five of them, and the other fourteen were spread out amongst the fleet so that if someone were injured or sick then they could be tended to. However, the rest of the men knew enough about children from their own families and medical care from the basics that they had been taught while training in the army to keep the duo alive.

Athena went quiet after that. He had either offended her, something that he found himself doing more and more now that he had seen the terrors of war, or he had come up with a plan that satiated her enough to let him be. He couldn’t bring himself to care in that very moment as he slipped belowdecks and to the hammock where they had placed Polites. One of the many buckets for refuse had been placed next to him so that if he were to be sick again there was something that they could do about it. 

“Did you bring her- I mean, him?” Polites asked.

At the sound of his father’s voice, Astyanax woke up enough to gurgle and babble happily. His fat little hands grasped at the front of Odysseus’ chiton as he looked for food. It was well known around the crew how much the babe liked to comfort nurse and he hadn’t been allowed to for longer than he had since they had embarked on their journey. “I did, just like you asked. I want to make sure that you won’t drop him when I hand him over so I’m going to ask and I want a real answer. How are you feeling, old friend?” Odysseus asked.

“Well enough to hold my child. The nausea is gone, my sensitivity to light is waning every moment. Please, I know he’s hungry,” he reached his hands out for the baby.

Odysseus carefully handed Astyanax over to his parent and then sat down beside some of the other soldiers. They had lost twelve good men on the island of the cyclopes, but Odysseus couldn’t thank the gods enough that Polites had only been clipped by the club instead of squashed by it. 

---

They encountered one of the worst storms that Odysseus had ever heard of when they departed from the island of the cyclopes. Polites was still not doing well even if he was very rapidly improving, so he and Astyanax were belowdecks and huddled away from the dripping cold rain of the storm. It was the only thing that allowed him to focus instead on the walls of water that would swell from the sea and then crash down around or on top of the boats that his fleet contained. He managed to guide them through the worst of the storm until they found the home of the wind god.

He returned to his boat with a bag clutched in his hands, containing the storm that they had just battled through. He should have known that no help would come without a price, Athena had taught him that long before she had left. The minions of the wind god had come down with him and undermined his attempts to explain what was in the bag and why they couldn’t open it.

The look that Eurylochus had given the bag had made his stomach clench in horror, so he had immediately rushed belowdecks so that he could discuss the matter with his best friend. Polites was sitting in the captain’s cabin with his babe nursing happily. He looked up when he saw Odysseus and smiled easily, as if he hadn’t had that horrendous nightmare the night before they hit the storm. “Ody, you look worried. Come in and tell me what’s troubling you,” Polites immediately said.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you while you were nursing. I know that’s a very important time for you and Astyanax,” Odysseus said. He ran his thumb down the seam of the bag in his hand, just to reassure himself that it was the same one that he had been sent down from the island with.

“I’m bored and need something to take my mind off how thirsty this makes me. Please come and sit so that we can chat,” Polites said.

Odysseus would have offered to get him some more water, but they were having to provision it very severely on his specific ship. The storm had ruined the rain barrels were they normally got some of their water, the waves had saturated them with salt water enough to make even the sturdiest stomachs sick with it. Instead, he sat down on the stool across from his friend and explained what had happened to him on the island.

“We can take it in shifts! No one is going to come and try to take it from me, I’m their healer and I was injured,” Polites immediately replied. He was so chipper about it and truly believed the goodness in people, Odysseus had often wished that he could have even a portion of the eternal optimism that his friend did.

Things went on like that for a long while. Odysseus carried the bag around with him during the day as he ordered his crew where they were supposed to sail and settled disputes with rations. Polites slept with Astyanax belowdecks during those times, the baby had become rather cranky being cooped up and not walked as much as he had been during the first leg of their journey. At night, Odysseus would rest and dream of his wife and the son that he had never truly gotten to know before he left. Polites would take the wind bag and pace the deck with his son in his arms to soothe him into some semblance of sleep. 

---

They sailed for a while more before they came across another island. Odysseus told Eurylochus to go with some of the other men, mostly captains from the other boats, to scope out the island and see if it was safe. When they returned, they said that they had foud a massive palace full of beautiful and powerful women. Some of the men had stayed behind to indulge in the foods that were being offered while most of them had returned to tell of what they had found. 

Polites was up with Astyanax in his arms, having recovered from his concussion after a queasy couple of days spent belowdecks. Odysseus walked beside his friend as they made their way through the well manicured gardens that surrounded the grand palace that sat at the center of the island. A woman with long black hair, woven into a series of intricate loops and spirals upon her head, stood in the doorway of the palace. Eurylochus had been right to say that she was powerful in her magic, it radiated off of her and not just because her chiton barely hide the tattoos that were scattered across her skin.

The smile that she had on her face faltered and then changed when she turned her head towards Polites and the baby. “My, that’s not a sight that we see often,” she commented. “My name is Circe, I am queen of this land and I came to welcome you and the rest of your crew into my home.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you very much,” Polites said. “I was hoping that you’d have some scraps of cloth that we could use to make new clothing and nappies for my son here. He hasn’t had a lot while we’ve been trying to get back home.”

“We can give him something far better than scraps of cloth,” Circe replied. She spoke to a gaggle of girls behind her, their hair all drab brown and gray but their faces beautiful nonetheless. “Right, girls?”

“Of course we can! We love babies,” one of the women said. “Should we go and handle the situation like we usually do or a bit different?”

“I would like it if you specifically could go to the pig pen and retrieve Odysseus’ men. I know that boar fighting is very interesting to men, especially ones that have been to war, but it’s very important that they’re all in one place so that we can host them best,” Circe replied. She turned back to the massive crowd of men and then motioned for them to enter her guest hall.

Once they were all inside of the warm walls of her home, she clapped her hands together and they went entirely silent. “I am the sorceress Circe, queen of this island and protector of all these nymphs. I continue female life forward and halt male when it threatens them. I am allowing you to stay within my halls and take some of my provisions for your trip only because you carry the child that Artemis spoke about when she and her hunters last stayed with us. If any of you touch my daughters or hurt them in any way, then you will never stop learning a new meaning to the word pain.”

The message behind wasn’t hidden by anything. They understood that this was something new for her, she usually did away with the men that came to visit her island and they were getting special treatment because of Polites and Astyanax. Odysseus looked out over his men to make sure that they were all going to behave themselves and he wasn’t going to have to turn the other cheek and allow Circe to do whatever magic she usually performed on men.

The entire time that they stayed with the witch, the nymphs that wandered the halls of the palace were completely enamored with the babe on Polites’ lap. He allowed a few of them to hold Astyanax when they were directly in front of him, but he was the only one that cared for his son outside of someone minding the little one while he was eating. Astyanax was enamored with all of the attention that he was getting, especially by people with such shiny hair and different looking faces. He would babble at them and reach for things that they didn’t want him tugging on. He was always very happy to be back in Polites’ arms, however.

---

They reached Ithaca only a few short months after they had departed from Troy. They would have arrived a lot sooner had it not been for the times that they had to stop and stock up on something on the way there. There was a massive parade held for them where family and friends of the soldiers that he brought back flocked to their loved ones. He didn’t mind that the crowd got smaller and smaller as they moved closer to his palace. By the time that they were standing on the marble steps that led up to his home, Odysseus was flanked by his two closest friends and Astyanax in Polites’ arms.

“You’re home!” Penelope called down the steps. She flowed as elegantly as any goddess would as she made her way down the stairs, closing the short distance between the two of them. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and then peppered kisses all over his face so that he knew just how loved she was. Telemachus wasn’t far behind her, bright eyes already shining as he began to ask Odysseus questions about what his journey had been like and what his favorite things were.

His son was already ten years old, which broke his heart. He had been trapped on a boat with Astyanax for months now, so he knew about all the things that he had missed while he was away. It was uncommon for children that young to be in court because they could not control themselves when it came to making sounds. He had learned so much about the development that babies made during their first year of life, but he had also learned about some of the things that his son had definitively gone through while he had been away at war.

He had a chance to get to know Telemachus as he grew, though. Odysseus may not have had the Goddess of Wisdom whispering in his ear constantly anymore, but he was smart enough to know that Astyanax and Polites had been the only reason that they made it out of a lot of the situations they had found themselves in during their travels.

The king turned around and said, “I’ll see you both for dinner, my friend.”

“We’ll see you in a couple of hours, Uncle Odysseus,” Polites replied as he made Astyanax wave at the aforementioned man. The baby let out a shriek and then giggled at the noise and the way that Eurylochus jumped. It was his new favorite thing, finding sounds that would get the soldiers to react in strange and exciting ways. 

---

It felt like time had flown forward for Polites. He never found a love and married, but he had so many other things that kept his heart full and happy. He had his son, who had grown into something bold and wonderful. He had his best friend, his nephew, and his friends from the war that he had fought in so many years ago. He also had his work, which was partially what he was involved in now.

After Astyanax had turned two and was no longer quite so dependant on his father, Polites had stepped back in as the physician in the royal palace. He trained a lot of the medics that went to fight with the soldiers in the wars that Ithaca got involved in or the soldiers that were leant to other kingdoms so that they could get experience. He also worked with the children that Penelope and Odysseus had after they reunited with each other. It was quite the gaggle at that point, though far lower than some of the peasants in town since the royals were often too busy for those kind of activities.

Polites was running his yearly check ups on the royal children, which included Telemachus despite him being far older than the rest of his siblings. He checked their vitals, their reflexes, and then asked each of them if they were having any aches or pains. Cora always had pain in her knees and ankles, but he was able to help her feel better with an herbal remedy and some wraps that applied pressure to the joints.

Finally, his office was empty as the royal brood piled out into the hall so that they could harass someone else. He began to pick up the things that had come undone or turned into a mess while he was doing the check up. He had only just sat down at his desk with a bottle of ink and some paper to write on when he heard another knock at his door. “Come in!” he called, as he always did.

His heart soared and swelled with love when he saw that it was his beloved son. Despite Polites not having contributed to his genetics, Astyanax still managed to look a fair bit like him. They had the same crease in their brows and the twitch in their mouths right before they smiled. Astyanax had messy brown hair while Polites’ was black and kept short so it could be contained, his eyes were almost hazel while Polites’ were so brown that they were black. The way that they had looked never really bothered either of them, outside of garnering a couple of questions from the young boy about where he had come from when he was toddler aged.

“Father,” Astyanax said. He had his hands down at his sides and he was clenching them into fists before he released them once more. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Why did I never tell you what?” Polites asked. He had nightmares about this moment and how poorly he might handle it since he didn’t feel as equipped as other people were, but now he felt totally calm and sure of himself.

“Why did you never tell me how my real father died?” Astyanax asked.

It hurt to hear Hector be called the real father of the boy that he had raised for sixteen years. Polites knew that he hadn’t contributed any genetics or power in growing the babe before he came into the world, but quite literally everything after that had been a labor of his own two hands. He took a deep breath and said, “I did. I told you that he died in the war with Troy, the one where I adopted you. I didn’t tell you who killed your father because it was a war and a battle. People die in those, it had nothing to do with who was carrying the sword or who was on the other side. We had made a pact to go and defend Helen when she was in her greatest hour of need, which was when she had been kidnapped to Troy. Unfortunately, as with all wars, your father ended up being collateral,” he finally answered.

“But that’s not fair! I wanted to get to know him. I could have grown up to be a prince the way that Telemachus did but instead someone had to cut him in half or something else stupid,” Astyanax shouted back at him.

“Did you suffer for food or warmth or love when you were growing up, Asty?” Polites asked. He was trying not to let tears burn in his eyes or sobs choke his throat. This was his son, the baby that had been given to him after his dear Chloe had died before he ever got to see her. He had to fight to make sure that his son knew he was loved even when he was rejecting the very notion of it as foolish and stupid.

The teenager paused and looked down at his feet. He kicked the edge of his sandal against a crease in the floor a she shook his head. “Then why does it matter to you so much that you could have been a prince? I loved you as if you were my own, I made sure that you always knew where you had come from and where you could one day return. I never wanted you to think that someone had killed your father in cold blood or that I had stolen you away from your cradle. I took you in because I loved you the moment that I saw you. I’m sorry that I could never give you a kingdom, but I tried to make sure that your life was comfortable and good anyway.”

Astyanax was quiet for a while longer. He let out a huff through his nose and then sat down on the marble floor in front of Polites. He leaned his head against his adoptive father’s lap, to which Polites immediately began to weave hs fingers through the dark mop of hair on his head. “I know. I’m sorry for calling someone else my real dad. You’re the best person that a parent could ask for. I think I was just mad because war is stupid. People shouldn’t have to stab each other to get more than what they need.”

“Greet the world with open arms,” Polites said, as he often had throughout his son’s life. “I agree with you about war. That was why I became a medic, so that I could help save people instead of hurting them.”

“Like you saved me,” Astyanax said. “Thank you, Dad. I really do love it here. And with you.”

“You’re allowed to have your feelings and I can’t police what those are or aren’t. I’m glad that you came and talked to me before you did something rash that got a lot of people hurt,” Polites said. He leaned down and kissed the top of his son’s head as they lapsed back into the gentle silence that their evenings always had. Zeus had told Odysseus that Astyanax would become an avenger if he was allowed to live, but Artemis had trusted Polites to nip that in the bud. He was fairly certain that he had done more than that, helping spread the feelings out and reveal what they had actually been under the surface.

[eretzyisrael]

by Troy O. Fritzhand

Ishay Ribo, center, performing on stage. Photo: אביחי ג’רפי via Wikimedia Commons

Protests are scheduled at Harvard University in opposition to one of Israel’s most popular singers, who is set to perform on Tuesday. The concert of Ishay Ribo is being organized by Chabad of Harvard with the goal of raising money for Israel.

“Jewish hate and anti-Israel voices are targeting Harvard Chabad and Israeli artist, Ishay Ribo,” the campus group posted on Instagram. Continuing, they said, “Ishay is a man who embodies profound love and peace. His music inspires the soul and elevates consciousness. Jewish consciousness, and human consciousness.”

The post came after a self described “radical bookstore” in Boston, Lucy Parsons Center, posted on its Instagram, calling on anti-Israel protestors to “Join us for a PICKET AND PROTEST” of the show. They noted that the staff of the Sinclair Music Hall, where the concert is scheduled to take place, boycotted the event and the venue was forced to hire outside staff.

Chabad of Harvard added: “This evening was created to lift the spirits of Israeli and Jewish students suffering from Jew-hate on college campuses. Love, peace, and music will prevail.”

The protest comes as Harvard has gained a reputation since the war’s outbreak on Oct. 7 — when Hamas terrorists killed more than 1,200 Israelis and took hostage over 250 — for a lack of support of the school’s Jewish students. This included a Congressional hearing where then-university President Claudine Gay refused to condemn calls for the genocide of Jews, saying that they may or may not violate of Harvard’s code of conduct, “depending on the context.” Due to plagiarism accusations and backlash over the incident, she resigned in January.