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Odysseus is exhausted.
He is angry, exhausted, cold, and absolutely soaking wet.
He can feel the water dripping down his hair and clothes while the wind dries it onto his skin and makes him even colder than before. As he gets progressively more cold and tired, his anger starts to fade.
Don't get him wrong, he's still absolutely furious at his situation and especially this god who's fault it is that he's not home. But the god isn't moving. He's just laying in a puddle of gold, gazing at the raging sea with dead eyes. Odysseus doesn't even remember when the screaming stopped or how long he's been torturing the god.
With the trident buried in the god's chest, Odysseus takes a moment to breathe. He just wants to get back to his wife and son.
When he rips it back out, the god under him doesn't even flinch. If he didn't know better, Odysseus would believe him dead.
He doesn't have the strength to use his full power anymore, so his next strike is slower and weaker. It's fine. No one would be able to move after being stabbed so many times.
Or not, as when the weapon plunges down, Odysseus sees a glint in the god’s eyes and knows he's fucked up.
Poseidon grabs his trident and yanks it from Odysseus' weakened hold. He surges up and hits Odysseus with its side. The mortal collapses to the ground.
Odysseus desperately tries to get up, but it's too late. Poseidon is already standing over him and stabs the trident down.
‘I'm sorry Penelope…’
Odysseus feels a steady pressure on his neck and opens eyes that he didn't realize he'd closed.
He is pinned to the ground with the points of the trident embedded into the rock of the small island on both sides of his neck. He glares furiously at the god while trying futilely to pry the trident off.
“I'm impressed.” says Poseidon, watching the raging storm while ignoring Odysseus entirely “Not many take my lesson to heart. Especially not as efficiently. But you…”
Poseidon turns his blank white eyes at him.
“You are a good, if slow, student.”
Odysseus just continues glaring.
“Let's make a deal. Every year until you die, you will sacrifice your kingdom's finest bull to me. In exchange, I will forget your offenses and personally bring you back to your island.”
Odysseus doesn't drop his glare, but knows that this is his only chance to go home.
“You will bring me immediately to Ithaca. Not a week or a year from now, immediately.”
Poseidon looks at him for a moment before answering.
“Then it is sealed.”
A flash of blue light briefly blinds Odysseus. Then he feels the pressure on his neck recede.
He stands up and watches Poseidon morph into a horse like the first time they met. Gathering his resolve, Odysseus walks up to the god and climbs on his back.
It's a bit difficult, since the horse is taller than any he's ridden, but he manages.
And like before, when Poseidon steps on the water, it stills under him despite the storm surrounding them.
Poseidon doesn't seem to be in a hurry as he calmly walks across the water. Odysseus doesn't have the energy to argue. This is still much safer and faster than if he'd gotten his wish and had to continue on the raft.
His eyes keep sliding shut despite his best efforts to stay awake. He blames the relief of knowing that he'll be back in Ithaca soon and the soft fur and mane in front of him. It's odd, the horse looks like it's made of dark water, but it feels more like an actual horse.
“Why did you hunt me and my crew down? I thought that gods didn't really care about their kids.”
Odysseus blames his hazy mind for it. If he were fully conscious he wouldn't have opened his mouth to offend a god carrying him through a violent storm. On the other hand they'd already signed a contract, so the possibility of Poseidon dropping him into the ocean was low.
Poseidon however didn't seem annoyed.
“I wouldn't have needed to chase you down if you hadn't told your name to Polyphemus. Even if I had found it out indirectly I could have just ignored it.”
Odysseus feels a sudden twinge of guilt. Of course the Cyclops had a name, and now knowing that name makes it more real. He buries the guilt back down. The Cyclops killed his men, it was only fair.
“Why didn't you do that anyway? You clearly wanted to leave it and go home like me.”
Poseidon exhales a deep sigh
“If you had just left in silence, no one would know who attacked Polyphemus and I wouldn't have enough evidence and reason to track you down. But now an entire island and anyone they've told knows and is waiting for my answer. If I do nothing, I'm setting a precedent that offending me and mine has no consequences. I'm sure you've figured this out by now.
It is true that I don't care much for my children, but in the end, they are mine.”
Odysseus didn't realize when he'd leaned his weight forward onto the horse’s neck, but he was very comfortable. He was wrong before. It didn't feel like a normal horse. The fur felt soft and luxurious as silk. He could just fall asleep here…
He just had a final question.
“Then what am I?”
The answer came immediately.
“Annoying.”
Odysseus pouted, but the god wasn't done.
“You hurt my son, you insulted me, and you dared to attack me. But despite all that, you are interesting.”
Those were the last words Odysseus heard before he fell asleep.
Waking up to being dropped from a horse’s back onto sand is not the most pleasant way Odysseus had woken up.
Spitting sand out of his mouth while standing up, he glares at the horse towering over him. He stepped back and brushed what he could from his clothes.
He nodded at Poseidon and turned to walk away. Suddenly he felt something cold and smooth crawling around his shoulders and neck.
He jumped in surprise and turned his head to see what it was. All he saw was the tail of a black and bluish-white striped snake before it wrapped around his bicep. He turned fully around to see the horse gone.
“Lord Poseidon?” he hesitantly asked.
The answering humm came from right next to his ear.
Apparently the god had decided to turn into a snake and was currently leeching on his remaining warmth.
Bastard.
Now that the god’s side of the deal was completed, Odysseus doesn't care what he does as long as it doesn't get in his way.
Odysseus looked around once more to figure out he was in a small cove he'd frequented in his younger years. Now knowing where he is, he began walking towards his city, a god in snake form wrapped around his shoulders.