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Ithaca.
Why couldn’t he stop scanning the coast in his mind? He’d been humiliated there, tortured by an accursed mortal with no respect for the gods.
Poseidon ground his teeth, muttering a curse.
He had recovered quickly under Apollo’s care. The blow to his pride, however, would not heal quite so quickly. Or so fully.
Olympus, he wasn’t sure if it would ever close up. Especially not with Zeus forcing it back open every few days. His pride, along with the sense of failure regarding his son, festered in the back of his mind like some rotting creature.
Once more his mind drifted back to the coast, mentally scanning for any sort of activity.
Maybe he was a bit curious how far the man's pride would take him. Maybe he just wanted to sense his dead body the moment it hit the water.
There was nothing more to do, as Athena and Zeus were ensuring that he didn’t get his hands on him.
A struggle on the shore caught his attention. He closed his eyes, sensing the scene through the water. The vision was blurry, but he could hear what was happening.
“Not so mighty now, Little Wolf?” a strangely smooth voice called out.
A scream rent the sea.
Poseidon’s brow furrowed as he focused on the scene. Hazy figures came into view. He could make out a group of men holding a smaller man down in the shallow surf. The closest man raised a knife and slashed at the man – boy, really, who was writhing in the shallow water.
“Who’s gonna save you, little prince?” taunted the man. “Your mama? The sea?”
He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Your father? Oh yes, he’ll come traipsing right back here to save your hide!”
Poseidon’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the side of his throne. This was the prince. He would be fully justified in letting the accursed mortal’s bloodline end here. And yet . . . something about the situation made him uneasy. He frowned, pressing a hand to his temple as he reentered the scene.
Just in time to see two knives plunge into the boy’s head. The god stiffened, tremors of fury running through him.
They just gouged his eyes.
Olympus, they just gouged them out.
His mind rang with the boy’s screams, muffled for a moment when his head was forced under the water. One of the men pulled him back up by his hair, laughing as he did so. The boy huddled into himself with his hands clutched to his face. Poseidon could hear the panicked breaths he was taking, he registered his tears falling into the sea.
It was quite painful to watch, especially considering its uncanny similarity to some of his own memories.
He’d seen enough.
The god opened his eyes, slowly withdrawing his consciousness from the situation. That was when the boy cried out the only word that suddenly, inexplicably cut him to his core.
“Father! Father, help me - “
His words were broken by another scream as one of the men pressed down on the skin around his eyes, laughing.
Incandescent fury filled Poseidon. The next thing he knew he was breathing heavily on the surface and the bodies of the attackers were rising and falling with the surf. He rushed over to the boy, lifting him into his arms.
“I got you.”
The boy screamed again, trying to push him away. “Let me go!”
Poseidon held him tightly as he thrashed. He raised his voice so he could hear him. “Kid, listen to me, you’re safe now. The sea took them. Hush, you’re safe.”
The boy froze, covering his eyes with his hands. After a moment he lifted one of them slowly, trembling with pain. Poseidon inclined his head to meet it. The boy rested the hand on his cheek, a sob escaping his throat.
“ . . . father?”
“Kid, I’m sorry but I’m . . . I’m not him.”
The boy recoiled his hand as if he’d burned him. “Then who – who are you?”
“I’m . . .” He struggled for a moment for the right words. “I’m someone who knows your father. If my suspicions are correct, he’ll be here soon.”
The boy covered his face with his hands, trembling from pain.
“Of course he would come back now.”
Poseidon tilted his head, perplexed. “Aren’t you excited to meet him?”
“He’s going to be ashamed of me!”
“What?” the god muttered.
“Can’t you see? I wasn’t strong enough!” The boy clenched his teeth in an effort not to cry. “He’s coming home expecting a brave prince, a strong heir, not . . . not a crippled wolf pup.”
His lip trembled as he clutched at his face. “He’ll never love me. He won’t, he won’t!”
Poseidon drew him closer, drawing his hands away.
“Listen here kid, that’s not what a father's like. He’ll take you back. No matter what. That’s that.”
He adjusted the boy’s tunic, applying careful pressure to his injuries.
Another sob tore from him.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Trust me. I know.”
After a moment’s hesitation he ripped off part of his own tunic and drew some condensation from the air into it.
“I’m gonna clean you up a bit, kid. I’ll be careful around your eyes, I promise.”
The boy cringed as the cloth met his skin. Poseidon tried to be gentle, not wanting to irritate his injuries more. Olympus, it’d had been a long time since he’d done anything like this. The boy tightened his hold around his chest, tears trailing down his cheek.
"It's going to be alright, I'm nearly done," the god muttered. He wiped the last bit of the blood off the boy's face, rinsing the cloth through with a current of water before pressing it to one of the deeper cuts.
“My head . . . ” he whimpered.
The god looked out over the sea, unsure how to reply.
"You're not going to leave me, are you?" the boy said softly, fresh tears trickling from his damaged eyes.
Poseidon cradled him against himself in response, the power of the sea humming through him.
Almost like a lullaby.
“I’ll hold you as long as you need me to, kid.”
***
Hours passed. Poseidon had long since moved to the shade of a rock outcropping as the sun was irritating to the boy’s eyes. He knelt on the ground, still holding him in his arms.
The air was silent but for the waves and the boy’s groans of pain. He considered walking him back to the palace but figured it would send the wrong message. His brother and niece might attack him themselves if they saw him approach the accursed mortal. Besides, there was nothing much to be done for his injuries. Apollo wasn’t an option. Any interference in the mortal’s world beyond what he’d already done was sure to incur the wrath of the Fates.
The mortal would come soon enough, he was sure of that.
And as much as he hated it, he was coming to realize that his final interaction with him might look much different than he had previously pictured.
Not because of any change in the accursed man, no.
Just . . .
No child should have to lose their sight and their father in the same day.
He returned to the present when the boy coughed. Olympus, his throat was probably as dry as driftwood. Trying not to jostle him too much, he retrieved the water skin from the boy’s waist and opened it. He directed condensation from the air to fill it before raising it to his lips.
“Come on kid, this should help.”
The boy swallowed and grimaced.
“Could we talk some?” he asked. "It might . . . might help me think of something besides the pain."
There was a pleading in his voice that tore at Poseidon’s heart. He paused.
“I want you to drink some more first, ok?”
The boy nodded and accepted another drink. After a moment he cleared his throat.
“What is your name?”
The god froze. He mentally racked through some of his old nicknames, finally settling on one that might suffice. “Sei. You can call me Sei.”
“Sei?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Mh.”
Poseidon’s legs were falling asleep from kneeling for so long. He stood slowly, doing his best to avoid disturbing the boy. Despite his best efforts the boy’s head shifted, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out.
“Y’know kid, I’d take the pain myself if I could.”
“Really?” the boy asked in a faint voice.
“I think any father would.”
“My father . . . what is he like?”
A bitter laugh escaped him. “Well, he’s incredibly stubborn, I’ll give him that. He wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting back to you and your mother.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I meet him?”
“He’ll come soon enough.”
Silence hung for a few moments.
“Sei?”
“Yeah?” Poseidon shifted slightly. He wasn’t too comfortable with the direction the conversation was heading.
“I’m adrift without my sight.” The boy’s voice held a tremor.
The god was silent for a few moments before speaking.
“Tell me, what can you sense right now?”
The boy paused, focusing. “I can feel your arms. I can hear the waves and smell the breeze.”
“What else?”
“I can feel the wind. I can hear your voice, your humming a while ago.”
“Exactly.”
The boy sighed.
“I wish I could see what you look like.”
Poseidon paused for a moment. “You could, in a way.”
“Really?”
The god took one of his hands in his own and placed it against his forehead.
“You can get a sense of what I look like, kid.”
The boy hesitated. “It seems disrespectful . . .”
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
Poseidon inclined his head, closing his eyes as the boy’s fingers brushed past them. He felt over his face, his brow furrowed. After a few moments a smile grew on his face.
“I see you.”
***
Odysseus’ feet pounded on the sand. His mind raced frantically. He’d only just returned to Ithaca and a sinking feeling was already in his stomach. He had entered the palace early that morning, entering his wife’s room by way of a password only they knew.
Oh, that reunion had been sweet.
Penelope had assured him that his son was safe on a diplomatic mission, set to return that evening. Given the stillness of the palace they had assumed the suitors were still sleeping in some corner of the vast halls. That assumption faded as the early afternoon came and went with no sign of them. Both of them had sensed that something sinister was afoot. An assassination attempt, perhaps.
Odysseus slowed his steps as he approached the shore, searching the rocks for any sign of the suitors or his son. Nothing. He rounded a rock outcropping and his heart stopped. All too-familiar blue eyes met his.
It was Poseidon.
He had found him first.
Odysseus fought back revulsion as he saw the bloody mess that was left of his son’s eyes. His body was battered, hanging limply in the god’s grip. Odysseus couldn't even tell if he was alive. A guttural scream tore from his throat.
“What have you done to him? What have you done?!”
"I saved him!" Poseidon hissed back. "Those blasted men would have killed him given a few more minutes!"
Odysseus stared at him, his mind in utter confusion.
“Father?” the boy called.
His heart leapt. “Yes son, it’s me. I need you to stay calm."
"The suitors are gone, father, they were trying to kill me. Thank the gods Sei happened to be nearby."
Odysseus froze. If Poseidon really had saved him, it could only be to make an example out of him. His mouth went dry.
His only comfort was that the boy didn’t seem to understand what was at stake.
Not yet, at least.
“Poseidon . . .”
Telemachus stirred. “Poseidon’s here?”
He seemed to tighten his hold around the god’s chest. Odysseus’ heart pounded.
“Telemachus, I'm here to bring you home.”
He locked eyes with the god.
A strange understanding passed between them, an agreement to spare the boy the gravity of the situation. Odysseus motioned to Telemachus and pointed at a place on the beach. He pointed at his chest and motioned in Poseidon’s direction, a lump growing in his throat. The god nodded.
After a moment he shifted his hold on the boy.
“All right kid, I’m going to set you down on the beach."
“Is Poseidon actually here?” Telemachus asked in a hushed voice.
The god paused.
“Yes, he’s here."
“Isn’t he dangerous?”
“He won’t hurt you, kid, I promise. I’m going to set you down now. Remember what I told you about your senses," Poseidon said, setting the boy carefully down on the sand.
Odysseus gawked as Telemachus hugged him. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
The god humored the boy for several moments before pulling back. Odysseus eyed him suspiciously, but he simply walked to the edge of the water and stood there silently.
Waiting.
For the moment, Odysseus couldn't care less.
He wrapped his arms around his son, tears spilling from his eyes.
“My son, sweetest joy I know!”
"Father! You’re finally here!”
He cupped the boy’s face in his hands, his heart breaking at the damage the suitors had done to it.
“I'm so sorry I wasn't here earlier, I didn't know - we thought you were coming back tonight -" he stammered. "I should have known."
"Don't blame yourself," Telemachus said quickly. "It's not your fault."
Odysseus sighed, shooting a suspicious glance at Poseidon before dropping his eyes to his son again. "I'm relieved you're alive."
The boy smiled faintly.
“Father?”
“Yes?”
“Can I see what you look like?”
Odysseus froze, uncomprehending, until the boy extended his hand. Then he guided the boy’s hand to his cheek. The boy felt over his face lightly, his own face glowing.
“You look just like mother said you did.”
A low humming filled the air and Odysseus tensed. He glanced over at Poseidon, who was watching the exchange from the edge of the surf. Patience was not a virtue of his.
“Oh, that's just something Sei does,” said Telemachus, who must have felt him stiffen. "I think it helps him relax."
Odysseus’ eyes flickered back to Poseidon, whose humming had started to take on an edge of menace. He hugged his son again, trying his best to sound nonchalant.
“Your friend and I need to work something out.”
“Father? Where are you going?”
The panic in his voice wrenched at Odysseus’ heart. He held the boy out by the shoulders.
“Stay here son. You’ll be safe.”
“Father? Sei? Don’t leave me! Please don’t!” Telemachus called frantically.
Odysseus closed his heart as best he could to his son’s voice. He took a deep breath and looked up at Poseidon. He felt a grief mingled with acceptance course through him. He’d beaten him. He’d made it home. But even he knew he couldn’t run forever. The god gestured towards the water and he followed. Soon the sound of the waves blocked out Telemachus’ cries.
***
Poseidon was lost in his own thoughts. Given the fact that he’d interacted with the accursed mortal without interference, he assumed that Zeus and Athena were not attentive at the moment. It made sense, he figured, they had seen him reunite with his wife and assumed that all was well.
In truth, he really had only meant to speak with him separately. Nothing more, as the boy needed him. Yet, he found a deep satisfaction in seeing the man finally understand his own helplessness. It was nice to see him respect his authority for once.
Nothing wrong with having some fun with him.
He paused in his stride and the mortal stopped as well, the water reaching past their knees. He met his eyes and detected only a sense of great weariness and grief.
Poseidon smiled.
“You have two options, I’ll even give you the luxury to choose.”
The mortal blanched at the last word.
Poseidon seized his face, forcing him to meet his eyes.
“Here’s the first one: I kill you in the slowest, most painful ways I can conceive of. You'd be amazed at all the toxins the sea holds.”
He saw the flicker of fear the man was desperately trying to hide. Poseidon glanced lazily over at the boy before meeting his gaze again. “As for him . . .”
The man’s eyes blazed. “Touch him and you’ll face a new breed of ruthlessness, I swear it. Take me, torture me all you care to, you sick bastard, but leave him alone.”
Poseidon had predicted an answer of that sort, he'd merely wanted to confirm it. The boy would be taken care of. Good.
He smiled grimly.
“The second option is to leave my waters forever and live out the rest of your pitiful life as that boy’s father. Thanatos will finish you off himself.”
Utter confusion flashed in the mortal’s eyes for a moment before fading to a sort of amusement.
“That’s your fakest proposal yet.”
“It’s not a trap.”
“Your entire personality is a trap,” the mortal grimaced.
“Choose.”
He stared at him stupidly. " . . . the latter."
Poseidon released him, throwing him to the side. The man stumbled for a moment before righting himself, dashing water from his eyes. He turned to face him.
“I once asked if you could learn to forgive.”
The god regarded him icily. “This isn’t forgiveness. Trust me, if it wasn’t for him –“ he gestured in the direction of the boy, “ - I’d carry out my threats. But he needs you.”
The mortal blinked, uncomprehending.
Poseidon strode through the water, leaving him in his wake. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to say my goodbye to him.”
He heard a frantic splashing noise behind him and allowed himself a grim smile.
He stepped onto the beach next to the boy.
“Well, I’m back.”
“Sei? Where’s my father?”
“He’s coming to take you home. I just came to say goodbye.”
The boy caught hold of his outstretched hand and squeezed it, smiling through the pain.
“Thank you, Sei.”
“Mh. Don’t forget what I told you.”
“I won’t."
***
Odysseus watched in disbelief as the god’s form dissipated into mist. His son was left laying on the beach. He was broken. But he was alive. He was alive. Years of pent up grief and longing welled up in him. His throat tightened as he took the boy’s hand.
“Father?” Telemachus said softly.
And the tears came.
***
Telemachus recognized the path back to his home. He’d walked it a thousand times before. His father walked beside him, a hand resting on his shoulder to help guide him. A whiff of smoke passed in the breeze, alerting him to the fact that they were almost home.
Grief prickled in his stomach at the thought of his mother seeing him like this.
“Father?”
“Yes, my son?”
“Could you let mother know what happened before she sees me like this?”
“Of course.” He felt gentle hands guide him to a bench. Based on the proximity to the palace, he assumed it was one of the benches in the garden.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” Odysseus said, squeezing his hand before he left.
The boy sat in the garden, listening to the sound of birdsong. He ran a slow hand over the sleek marble beneath him. His head still ached, but he no longer felt helpless.
It must have only been a few hours since he was attacked, only a few hours since he was saved by the stranger with a rough voice and gentle hands.
What a life was his own.
“Telemachus?” came a soft voice.
“Mother,” he whispered, “I missed you.”
And just like that he was caught up in her embrace.
“I’m sorry, mother! I should have never left you for that mission, I – I –“
“Hush,” she whispered. She cupped his face in her hands, rubbing his cheek softly.
“You are the bravest son I could ask for. My beautiful Telemachus.”
A sob escaped his throat. In a moment he felt the embrace of both of his parents, one on either side of him. An overwhelming sense of peace descended on him. It was a wholeness that was fully new to him.
And he knew, with a surety that transcended sight, that everything would be made right again.