Chapter Text
Everything that has been happening around him was so difficult to accept. And after all, how could a mortal man accept all of those events that had happened one after the other in such a short time?
Not too long ago he had thought that his life was already over and that he was forever trapped on that island with no way to escape. But now, everything simply became so much worse than he could have ever imagined.
He was underwater, so deep down that when he looked up there was nothing but an unnatural teal hue, like a blue mist that floated between him and the surface. The sunrays that filtered from above illuminated everything around him in a weak cold light.
Even though he was down there, he could still survive that pressure in his ears as if he was merely finding himself walking in the middle of a plain surrounded by thick smoke, on a winter morning. He could see his surroundings easily without the water blurring his vision, eyes recognizing the shapes and colors. He could hear the sounds around him without them being muffled by the water. And he could breathe. This was all because the body he found himself in was not the body of a man. He could no longer even say that it was truly his body, it did not belong to him.
A part of him still tried in every way to push him to believe that everything was just a terrible nightmare, a hallucination caused by his tired mind and his grieving heart. From the instant he had thrown himself into the water to escape from Calypso, until that moment when he found himself dragged forward by a triton a few steps from a rocky seabed towards an unknown direction, all of that just had to be something his imagination had constructed. It couldn't be true.
But that part of him was speaking from far away now, he couldn't really believe those words. That voice was just desperation that held onto any possible excuse to not accept reality. But this reality was too clear to ignore. The pain in his back and bones, against his neck and in chest was real. That terror in his heart when he found himself in the presence of the God of Tides was real. The anguish that burned in his brain knowing that his land and his family were being held hostage and threatened was just as real.
Odysseus shook his head slowly to stop thinking, then returned to stare at that triton who, after escorting him out of the palace, had separated from his companion and grabbed him by the arm and shoulder and then started swimming quickly towards the open sea.
Once again, even though Poseidon had made it very clear how much he hated him and how much he longed to make him suffer, he didn’t seem hostile towards him. He simply didn’t look at him or even speak to him anymore after their first encounter.
Instead, he simply made sure his grip was firm but not too tight.
Not all soldiers knew how to simply follow an order without abusing their position when they found themselves tasked with escorting a prisoner. However, the mortal was grateful that at least this triton did not seem interested in hurting him or even humiliating him.
Not knowing where to look, he focused on observing how such a creature could move so quickly and at the same time so silently. His dark green tail was much longer, and Odysseus paid attention to how it moved left and right, hitting the water like a whip. His instead remained there, paralyzed and moved only by the current that the movements of the triton was generating. It was certainly so easy for them to move. The monsters, the tritons and the sirens were all born with that body of a sea beast, covered in scales, and they were in their element, at home. While he was just a man.
A man already knew how to walk on dry land once he became an adult. The same man had once learnt as a child, in a very short time everything that seemed so difficult once he grew up. Like how to speak an unknown language or indeed how to stand on his own legs after a long period of illness.
Now Odysseus had lost those legs and he was no longer a child, but he still had to learn how to move as he had done so many years before. But a child was still protected by the love of a mother who hugged her little one every time he fell and encouraged him to try again. To not give up.
But now his mother was not there. She was gone. He had left her to die alone. He really had to stop complaining and feeling sorry for himself in such a pathetic way. She too had suffered and she was innocent, while he himself had been the cause of all his misfortunes. He deserved to be alone, without being able to call anyone, without being able to receive the comfort of that woman who had waited for him to return to her for so long, who more than anything just wanted to see him return to her. The woman whom he had disappointed.
“I am not allowed to escort you any further.”
Odysseus, could not help but be grateful to that triton. His words spoken in that cold tone, void of any emotion were all that his tormented mind needed at that moment.
Even though he was in the middle of the sea, the voice that reached his ears was like receiving a splash of freezing water against his head that almost seemed burning with all of the thoughts that were swirling inside of it. Everything stopped for a moment, and he found himself in the reality. A reality difficult to accept, but the reality in which he now found himself living into.
But since his mind had become similar to the stormy sea, whose waves seemed more like tall flames that burned against his temples from the inside, perhaps the best choice would have been to do everything possible not to get lost in those thoughts and instead remain grasping to the world outside his head. Even if it was just as cruel.
When the triton released him, Odysseus felt his body sinking downwards and, reaching the seabed, he placed his hands against the sand and those rocks covered with a light layer of seaweed to support himself. It wasn’t difficult since in the water everything seemed lighter, and often it almost felt like he was floating. But besides that, he would have done better to learn how to swim quickly or at least how to float and not sink every time, when no one was holding him up.
“Thank you,” he replied with a low voice, looking up to stare again at that soldier who looked like such a young man, even younger than he was when he had left his land for the war.
The other didn’t say anything else. He stared straight ahead and the way his gaze had narrowed slightly it seemed as if he was focusing on something still too far away to be seen clearly. Then he glanced at him again for a few seconds before turning around and quickly swimming away in the same direction from which they had come.
Now that he was still, Odysseus could see more clearly how fast the other was. He was already gone, and without even moving the water around them too violently.
He had to learn too. He had to do it at all costs. He turned to see how his tail didn't move and he had no idea how to force it to or what to tell his body to do. He knew how to swim, when he had legs. But that thing wasn't like his legs.
He gave a push with his hips and the tip of his tail moved slightly upwards. Despite everything in the water feeling lighter, it was still too long and also heavy.
He wanted to tear it off, it didn't respond to any of his commands, but it hurt anyway. Like a gangrenous limb, ruined and impossible to heal, and that it should have been cut clean off for the good of the whole body.
He moved his hips again but apart from a small spasm nothing happened. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head and trying to calm down. He still couldn’t move by swimming like the creatures of the sea could, and he could barely breathe, with that injured gill that had only recently finally healed, thanks to the help of the Nereids. It was better if he tried not to get agitated any more, now he had to do as Poseidon had ordered him and if his tail wouldn’t help him for now, he had to use his arms.
That order to clean the sea of what remained of his ships was the thing that worried him the most at the moment. Along the way Odysseus had had too many thoughts to really focus on what he had to do, on what that task meant to him.
But now he felt something starting to rise from his chest and flow into his arms, he felt himself shaking and he almost couldn’t support that light weight of his.
He tried to bring one hand in front of the other while keeping his gaze low, doing everything he could to think only of his movements, he didn’t want to think about anything else, not now. He knew something was about to form in his head, those sensations would rise like claws that scratched from his chest up into his throat, into his eyes until they reached his brain.
He didn't want to think, not now.
He bit the inside of his cheek and began to stare intently at how his trembling fingers slowly sank into that gray tinged sand, feeling under his fingertips the small pebbles hidden under the surface. It was easier than holding onto those stones with that green and slippery layer of algae that covered them like fur.
He could only move like that.
Feeling how the water was getting colder in certain places, resembling almost a gush of wind, Odysseus hurried to move forward or in another direction to avoid the currents that would only make it too difficult for him to move.
Although he was trying hard to keep his gaze on his fingers, that one sensation only grew stronger and made his heart beat faster and faster.
He didn't want to think, and to tell the truth he wasn't even able to reason like Athena would have expected of him, so why didn't his mind decide to just stop for once?
He knew what he would have had to think about, he knew that it would have been inevitable to ignore it. Had he perhaps forgotten why he had been brought there? Did he really think he could ignore what he would be forced to see?
He couldn't avoid it, but he still didn't want to see what was in front of him.
How many things was he already forced to think about?
He had to think about how to move, how to learn to swim with that stupid tail, how to move all those woden pieces he would find, when he still couldn't move himself. He couldn't think about everything that had already happened in the past. It wasn't useful. There was no use thinking about their voices. Their screams.
And yet soon it became literally impossible not to hear them.
Poseidon had captured him and literally mutilated his body to keep him prisoner in his domain, so that he could never return home. He could not return with that body even if he had somehow managed to escape. Which was totally impossible anyway. Escaping the god of the sea, by swimming? Madness.
He had also been very clear with him about what he had to do if he did not want to risk everything he loved. Obey his every order. And his first order had been the one to get rid of the remains of the ships that he himself had sunk that day, three years before.
Odysseus knew well from the moment those words were spoken, what he would have seen in a short while. What certain images would have caused him. That feeling in his chest, that fear, mixed with anger and anxiety had already accompanied him subtly the whole time while that young triton swam in silence, holding him firmly against his side.
But as soon as the mortal gave up and looked up after his fingers sunk into the sand and found not only rocks but a fragment of rope, that horrible sensation pervaded his entire body, clinging to his heart and forcing him to let himself fall completely to the seabed, unable to stand any longer.
As he had until that point crawled forward like a child who still could not stand up, in the same way Odysseus, just like a frightened child, quickly brought both hands in front of his face to hide from the sight that presented itself before him.
Those were his ships, those figures with twisted shapes created by their own shadows projected on the sand of the seabed were the ships he sailed upon when he had left his beloved land, on which were his traveling companions, soldiers he had managed to protect for ten years.
Ten long years of siege outside the walls of Troy, they had survived that war, hunger and disease, the hatred of the gods. When they set sail to return home, he had seen them joyful, smiling and talking about their respective families.
He still remembered what he had thought that day, how he was a strong king, a perfect captain and military strategist. Only he could say to be returning home with the same number of men that had followed him. How many others could claim to have achieved such a result? How many knew that they would return, forced to also bring the tragic news of the death of many young soldiers?
Odysseus instead had saved them all. He had protected them. Leaving the war behind him, he had looked out to turn his gaze towards those ships around his, and he had observed his men almost like a father might look at his own children, watching them play.
And now those same ships were down there, rotten and in pieces while the fish and water had already begun to consume them. A huge battlefield full of wooden carcasses.
His soldiers were no longer there. But he felt them. He heard them calling him loudly, screaming at him as the waves rose so high that they swallowed everything as the water grabbed their legs and held them still as the air ran out of their chests. Shards of wood were thrown into the air as the bodies of those young people who only wanted to go home could only float for a few seconds before they became too heavy and sank down too.
Odysseus saw his own arms stretched out forward from his ship as someone held him back from making an illogical and useless gesture.
Captain. They called him. Captain.
It would have been useless to throw himself into the waves to catch them, to carry them to safety. The strength of a god and the strength of a man could not be compared, he would not have been able to tear them from his hands, he would not have been able to carry them to safety.
He never found out who had been holding him back. Then when he was thrown away, he felt his head hit hard against the deck and in addition to the screams, the sound of the waves crushing the hulls and tearing the sails there was a whistle in his head. A strong pain that penetrated his temples like a chisel, preventing him from reacting.
When he stood up to look out once again towards those soldiers who had called him desperately, there was no one left.
Only floating rubble, and many ruined bodies, while that dark water seemed shaded with red around those poor men who until their last breath had begged for him to save them.
He still remembered how, leaning out, he felt his legs almost give out, and squeezing his eyes he felt the tears run down his cheeks and then fall into that cold water. He heard the voice of the God of the Sea whisper in his ear about how only forty-three men had survived his wrath.
At that moment he realized how stupid he had been. Poseidon was right. He had been arrogant, he thought he was superior to everything. As soon as he left Troy to turn back home, he already thought he had saved all of his men. Those poor young men who had placed their trust in him, and what had he done? He had killed them. It had not been the Lord of Tides the one to kill them all, it had been him, when he had revealed his name.
He remembered how he brought both hands to his face to hide, just like he was doing now.
Those ships in front of him were still there when his fingers slid slowly down his cheeks and rested again on the cold sand. He slowly opened his mouth, while the tears from his eyes did not have time to fall before they instantly disappeared into the water, and he began to sob desperately while that sense of guilt crushed him more and more.
There was no one left who could hear him. But he could not hold back, and the words came out of his mouth on their own.
“I’m sorry...”
He wondered if they could hear him from underworld. And if they could care about his pain, about how much he regretted his stupid choices.
He didn’t realize how much time he wasted crying desperately, repeating those three words over and over. Only when his head started to hurt too much did he notice that the light had also become dimmer all around him. It was already evening, or maybe it was just late afternoon?
In any case, he had to force himself to stop crying, focus on that strange way of breathing, and turn his gaze to those wrecks, trying to ignore how much his heart seemed to bleed, from the pain that the sight caused him.
But he had no idea where to start to solve this whole situation. He had to take those ships away piece by piece to the shore of the nearest island. But first, he had to swim. Or get closer to them. No matter how much he wanted to just turn back and escape. It wasn’t an option at that moment.
Odysseus rubbed his face with one hand and then grabbed those rocks again and began to drag himself forward forcefully, one hand and then the other as if he were taking small steps. Then when he gained enough speed, he pushed himself forward forcefully, trying his best to try to keep his tail up, trying to hit the water to at least make it float without that weight dragging him down again.
The first attempt failed after a few seconds, and he forced himself to try a second time. This one also didn’t bring the desired results.
The same thing happened the third and fourth. Then he stopped counting and focused only on how to keep a minimum control on that weight that was dragging him down.
Everything around him went completely dark when he finally felt his body floating completely without sinking, he couldn’t move it, he had no idea how to do it, but at least he wasn’t stuck on the bottom.
However, it was too dark now to do anything, to figure out where to start. And he was tired, it almost felt like it had taken him a whole day to drag himself to those ships, going against the current and that damned tail out of control.
He wanted to know what exactly he had to do. But he was alone and there was no one else who could explain to him how to solve anything, so Odysseus closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to think about the present, about the problems he had to solve at that moment.
He could at least float now, but moving was difficult without moving his tail as he wanted without giving chaotic spasms that would only tire him and hurt him by ending up against the rocks on the seabed or the various debris he had come close to. By bringing his hands down and holding on to what he found he at least managed to have a minimum of mobility. It would be difficult to remove those wooden planks without swimming but for now he had to first find the smaller pieces to move without having to break everything into pieces.
He stopped himself from letting his mind process too much how atrocious it was to simply think of destroying more of his ships and moved onto the next problem instead. At night, until he got used to the lack of light, he couldn’t work so he had to rest. Another problem that began to make itself felt instantly was the knowledge that he was hungry. The Nereids hadn’t fed him before the tritons had come to take him to the palace. He was recovered now and couldn’t expect that someone would always bring him food.
Of course, in the sea, the best thing to do to eat would be to hunt fish. But Odysseus stopped those thoughts to ask himself a question. Was he even allowed to eat fish? He had no idea and with everything he had done, which Poseidon considered an offense to him, maybe even killing animals in his sea would make him furious. The nymphs had brought him food, but they were not mortals so hated by the gods.
For now he would just have to stay calm and rest, it was night and the water was so cold around him, but there was little he could do. He could hardly see his own hands. He had to flatten himself on the bottom, feeling those pebbles scratching his abdomen and chest. He had made a mistake in not finding a suitable place to rest before it got dark and now he could only lie down in the sand and stay still, hoping to be able to fall asleep.
He soon realized that even resting was an impossible challenge to face. How could a man sleep without having found shelter? It was not just a matter of being deep, underwater, but even if he had been in the middle of a forest Odysseus would not have been able to fall asleep, lying on the ground and in the cold under the night sky.
He put his hands on his head, unconsciously trying to provide himself with some kind of protection. He couldn’t sleep, but he tried anyway, telling himself that nothing would attack him. But he didn’t even trust his own words. How could he? He couldn’t know if Poseidon was going to appear in front of him, or behind him. Perhaps in that very moment as he lied there, unable to move and barely able to stay afloat. He could almost imagine him moving behind him, his trident held tightly in one fist, ready to run its teeth along his dorsal fin and then point them against his back, threatening to stab him if he moved.
Odysseus shivered, trying to think of something else, but he could only think of the Lord of the sea, or of this terrible scene he had imagined. Or the wrecked ships, the voices of his brothers.
He pressed his cheek hard against the cold sand, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, feeling how that long, serpentine tail had begun to tremble, its tip moving unconsciously in every direction.
He was starting to feel really tired, exhausted, he just wanted to close his eyes so his brain would stop presenting him with information he already knew well. He knew that Ithaca was in danger, and that his family would wait for him in vain. He knew that they would pay for every wrong he would have done, for every answer Poseidon didn't want to hear.
And if he decided to do something to him, as she had decided, he would have had to stay still. Because when a king was held prisoner, his entire kingdom would suffer the consequences of his actions.
He wanted to pray to Athena, to ask her forgiveness for having disappointed her, but to give him the strength to carry on. He would have done so if a cold current hadn't turned him on his side, and he immediately remembered that Poseidon would have heard him. This was his domain after all.
He couldn't call her, he was afraid of what might have happened if he ever called her name.
All night long, Odysseus felt how the water was constantly turning him, how small presences were approaching him, brushing his tail and against his hair, making him jump. They were only fish, but in the darkness of the night he couldn't see that. His eyes couldn't stay closed for too long and he would immediately open them wide again to turn around or look around, but he couldn't clearly distinguish any shape.
It was cold, the rocks under him hurt.
When the environment around him slowly began to seem more and more recognizable and the light slowly began to filter from above again, the poor man pressed one hand to his face, covering his eyes and letting out a groan while with the other he pushed himself away from the seabed, fortunately floating again on the first try.
He felt exhausted, and he was so hungry. If he hadn't already spent long sleepless nights after the first encounter with Poseidon, he would have thought that this could be one of the worst.
To tell the truth, it could have been the worst.
In any case, he had to get moving. The best way to do so was to try to think of something else and force himself to dissociate himself from everything that was around him, from the fragments of rope now covered in seaweed, from the rotting wooden planks, from the swords hidden in the sand.
What happened after that terrible night was like living in a dream, what was happening did not cause him any emotion or thought. First, he tried to catch a fish, but he gave up when he realized how quickly those small animals escaped him before he could manage to raise an arm towards them. Quickly, they swam far enough from him so that he would have never been able to reach them while he had to drag himself forward with his hands.
He gave up after finally finding himself too far away from the wrecks he was supposed to be taking care of, chasing those small silver fish.
After a long look at what seemed to be a large underwater meadow, Odysseus accepted the fact that he was forced to feed on the only thing he could gather, if he still couldn't swim to hunt for real food.
It didn't really seem like it could help him survive for long, but he was too hungry and despite the taste of grass, Odysseus was content to tear off that seaweed and eat it. He couldn't do anything else.
He resumed chasing a group of small fish when they passed by him. They were brown, with a thinner and long shape. But they were quickly ignored as he passed by a group of rocks.
There was a hole between them, and from the outside the light couldn't get through, making the space inside seem completely black. If he had had some rest, he would have imagined that it might have been a fish's lair, and he would have stayed away. But if he had, he might not have been able to find shelter. Odysseus crawled between the rocks, moving carefully, feeling the sand and stones and algae around him, until he gasped when something larger hit him against the wrist.
Instinctively, he reached out with his other hand too, feeling his fingers slide against something slimy and cold.
Then he felt a sharp pain in his arm and slammed his tail into the water, screaming in panic. He could smell his own blood.
Instinctively, he grabbed a rock and slammed it down hard on whatever was attacking him. The same slimy thing hit him in the face this time, then slid against his side and quickly headed outward.
He saw it only at the last moment, illuminated by the sunlight. A moray eel. A large brown moray eel covered in small yellow speckles. It had decided to abandon that lair and had fled very quickly, probably fearing to become the prey of a much bigger fish.
Odysseus brought his wounded arm to his mouth, licking those holes and feeling really lucky that the animal had decided to give up, instead of attacking again. Surely he had wounded it too but in the conditions he was in, maybe he should have rushed to flee too if it hadn't done so first.
It wasn't a cave like the one where the Nereids had healed him and fed him. It was dark, small and full of rocks and algae that prevented him from moving easily. But he felt protected in there.
Soon he found himself pushing those rocks outside and tearing away the algae that scratched his cheeks, then holding the longer ones and tying them tightly over that bite. It hurt, the salt water burned and even though that bandage wasn't enough to really help the wound, at least it protected it from the sand.
Before nightfall, Odysseus was asleep among those rocks, his head resting on the ground and his long tail moved in front of the entrance to block it, if you could call it that, fearing that some other larger fish or the same eel from before would decide to swim inside with him and bite him while he was resting.
He knew he had been brought to that area for a particular reason, but he was so tired.
For the next few days, Odysseus only tried to hunt and swim so that he could find an island where he could drag his ships or what was left of them.
On the fourth day, however, without knowing how, he found himself chasing a sand colored fish, which quickly darted far away along the seabed before he could even get close to it. But the most surprising thing was noticing how its tail had started to move following his commands. Unlike how he saw the triton move, he instinctively still tried to kick with his legs and as a result it moved up and then down. Raising the sand and giving him very little movement control, but at least he was swimming without having to hold on to the seabed to drag himself around.
He didn’t have time to feel relieved that he had finally made some progress, when a voice made him jump, then quickly move his hand to his side, as if he expected to find a sword ready to be drawn and pointed at anyone who approached him.
“If you raise the sand like that, you’ll help it hide” it was a young voice, and it almost seemed whoever spoke, was holding back a laugh.
When Odysseus calmly turned around, he could clearly see who had just talked to him.
He looked like a triton, but his skin was definitely less pale. He had the same eyes as the Nereids and their gentle features. He seemed to be only a little more mature than the soldier who had escorted him to the wrecks on Poseidon’s orders.
This young man had mahogany-colored hair, with bright red highlights, and two long antennae sprouted from the center of his head and ran down his back.
His tail was not long and serpentine at all, but rather resembled the tail of a shrimp, red and with small legs that were currently holding him firmly right above the rocks of the small cave that Odysseus had been using as a shelter for the night for a few days now.
He did not seem hostile at all, but something about the young man made him tremble. Those bright eyes without pupils, the eyes of an immortal, were not just like the eyes of the Nereids. There was something else that made him different from them.
And then he realized. Was he a god?
Odysseus’s eyes opened wide and he sealed his lips closed, suddenly afraid of what he might have wanted from him. He had had enough encounters with the gods, and he could not trust them. Most of the time, it would lead to no good, being in their presence.
He could not recognize who it was, he was not able to. But he was sure the one in front of him was a god and not a simple triton.
“M… my lord.” Odysseus bent his head downwards, trying his best to bow, feeling his body immediately go numb and his heart start to pound in his chest. Was he there because of Poseidon? Was he here to take him back?
Of course, that had to be the reason. He had wasted too much time trying to swim and gain control of the situation, and now the Lord of the Sea was tired of waiting, he was going to tear him to pieces. He was going to take his arms away too.
The words that were spoken just a second later were not the ones he had expected.
“No, no wait,” he heard the other approach, “you don’t need to talk to me like that.” When he looked up, the god had dived forward and then landed without even moving much water, while now those little legs were taking him much more easily towards him, sinking delicately through the seaweed and sand.
He gave him a gentle smile, and for a second, just for a second, Odysseus was reminded of a dear friend of his. Someone who had long been gone. For more than three years. Since before he met Poseidon.
“You are… you are a god.” It wasn’t a question, he was now able to recognize that light in the gaze of a deity.
“A god bound to this sea.” the other confirmed, bringing a hand to his chest and nodding. “But I would never force you to address me with such reverence. Please, I wish I could speak to you as you would speak to a friend.”
The gods did not want the friendship of a mortal. Odysseus tilted his head, confused. And yet he didn’t seem to be lying.
He looked young, almost younger than Hermes. But everything he had experienced brought a voice in his mind that shouted at him to keep his guard up, to trust nothing. This was Poseidon’s domain, and this god was surely hostile to him.
And yet…
“I know your name, my sisters address you as Odysseus. Thetis recognized you before everyone else when you first arrived here.” Thetis, Achilles’ mother. So, he was indeed close to the Nereids. He shared a brotherly bond with them, it seemed.
The other spoke to him in such a calm voice, and the mortal could not hold back his tongue. “Yes,” he nodded slowly, “it is my name.” But after all, there was no reason to hide it any longer. Especially, if Thetis had recognized him, as he had already discovered.
“My name is Nerites,” the god introduced himself, smiling and making those long antennae tremble slightly. “As I said, I am a god bound to the sea.” He ran a hand through his hair, then grabbed a lock that had moved in front of his eyes and curled it between his fingers before moving it away. “I serve Poseidon as his charioteer.”
Just from hearing that name, Odysseus couldn’t help but flinch, feeling panic take over, attacking him out of nowhere.
His charioteer? And he had sent him there for him? Had he really been sent because he had angered him once again, by wasting time?
Odysseus looked around, as if expecting to feel himself getting suddenly grabbed by the neck.
He put his hands in front of his face, fearing that the god in front of him would jump on him and hit him.
“His… his charioteer? But… I, he…!”
Nerites, however, surprised him yet another time by moving away from him, taking a few steps back with those little claws to give him space, as if he could sense how scared he was.
In fact, he lowered his tone of voice, trying to sound even less aggressive “Don’t worry. I’m here because my sisters asked me to look for you. They heard that you’ll be serving them, but they had no idea where you ended up.” then he looked somewhere behind Odysseus, staring at his teal tail “but I guess you disappeared because you still have to learn how to use it, right?” just for a moment, that happy expression vanished. He seemed to be thinking about something else and then blinked and gave him a different, melancholic smile.
“You don’t have to worry. I can take you to the palace, to them, and don’t worry, I’ll swim slowly, so you can remember the way back here.”
Odysseus reached out to the young god. He knew that part of him didn’t want to trust. The one in front of him wasn’t his friend, and yet he couldn’t help himself. In the past he would have recoiled, tried to walk away, and even if he knew it was useless to try to escape the gods, he would have still tried to just get away. It didn’t really matter if he succeeded or failed. It was about refusing to give up and fight.
But perhaps because everything still hurt so much, it was easy to trust a god who wasn’t hurting him, who was offering to help him.
He grabbed his hand, surprised by how much warmer his skin felt, but a glimmer of sanity made him look at Nerites in the eyes before choosing his next words carefully.
“The gods don’t bestow favors on mortals like me without a price.”
“I know,” the god admitted, “but I don’t want anything from you. However…” he began to think aloud before helping Odysseus hold onto him. “You look very weak. You haven’t even managed to eat a little bit fish these days, have you?”
He wasn’t his friend, he should have remembered it. Nerites was Poseidon’s charioteer. He had just told him that. Why couldn’t he get his head to keep him on high alert? Maybe it was that gentle tone. That smile. He really tried to force himself to feel scared and in danger, like a human should feel in the presence of an immortal god. But somehow Nerites didn’t make him feel scared and helpless. Even though he was underwater, even though he was a god, and even though he had managed to sneak up on him without being heard, Odysseus couldn’t help but feel relieved as the other grabbed him firmly by his forearms and led him back to the palace of the God of the Sea.
_
“Gone.”
such a simple word. Yet, despite being the goddess of wisdom and military strategy, Athena found herself repeating it after a brief moment of silence, broken only by Calypso’s crying. As if it were the first time she had heard such a word in all of her years she lived.
“What does it mean gone?”
She asked aloud, shifting her gaze to her brother, too busy staring with an unreadable expression at the goddess kneeling in the sand and sobbing, to pay attention to that question.