don't forget how dangerous the gods are

by TheGrammarHawk

Summary:

As tensions continue to rise between Zeus and Poseidon, it is decided that the other Olympians should choose a side.

Ares makes his own.

or,

Odysseus barely agreed to two gods in Ithaca.

Notes:

im feral and relentless (and ruthless? perhaps). another two-parter. there is NO reason for me to be posting rn i have to get up in less than seven hours and i'm in no way ready for bed but. i continue to be so enthralled by family dynamics with the EPIC gods,

no bc my sister just shamed me for still being awake as i wrote that send help. two more weeks, i can do two more weeks of this degree and therapy practicum, i'm not losing my mind, apollo's my patron not dionysus-

abuse as usual is. gestures vaguely to rest of series and zeus and poseidon in general. as always you don't need to read previous fics to read this one but it sure does help, i simply cannot control the whims of readers and encourage chaos.

Chapter 1: to dare to defy

When the Olympians felt Zeus call them into council, many responded with weary compliance. Those such as Demeter and Dionysus responded with the same stance they always did, Demeter finding her throne and Dionysus greeting all he met on his way to his. Artemis was more wary, conscious of recent happenings but not directly involved - still, she had seen Zeus threaten to slaughter four of his children at once, including Apollo. She would never refuse summons if it meant she would be leaving her twin less defended.

The rest, well. For better or worse, they knew what they were in for.

Hera remained withdrawn upon her seat, Aphrodite masking her rigidity with the same essence of beauty she always provided. Hephaestus looked grim and agitated, clearly having been hard at work within his forge, while Ares could barely contain the anger rising within him. Apollo almost stumbled when he manifested in the divine realm, interrupted in his own work and quickly moving to his seat next to Artemis.

Poseidon had already been present from the start, glowering in his throne toward his younger brother.

It was to the surprise of all those summoned when another appeared in their wake, dark toga and hair the same as the soot of his eyes. Hades looked toward their god-king, unspoken question displayed in the arch of a single brow as he stood behind Hestia by her hearth on the floor.

Two thrones remained conspicuously empty.

“I call you here to express the rumors of war breaking out in our ranks,” Zeus began, ignoring the hiss from Poseidon. “This is no such grand scale of battle, this a mere feud - yet an important one regardless. Poseidon has insulted his king by passing judgment outside of his jurisdiction - daring to assault a fellow Olympian for acting within his scope. He has also found himself humiliated by a mortal in combat. These are inexcusable affronts - ones I must correct. I invite you here specifically to toss your favor in with the side of your choosing, knowing that if sent for you will be expected to aid whomever you have allied yourself with.”

Standard fare for godly feuds. It was little different from the Trojan war, if only for less mortals involved. While Ares’ aura grew with the news, Demeter barely concealed her sigh and Apollo buried his head in his hands. There was no doubt this current fight would continue until the mortal world became more interesting, again.

Poseidon stood, furiously slamming the end of his trident down as he did. “At least I acted in defense of my child! You nearly slaughtered your own twicefold - striking down Athena for petty insult, and purposefully attempting to take out four in one blow! Rumor has it you allowed the same tool of a mortal to bend your ear and convince you to relent before you ever heard out other gods - or are you not daring to address why you have substituted Athena and Hermes for our elder siblings?”

Lightning lit up the skies of Olympus, thunder quickly following. Zeus matched his brother’s ire in rising himself, eyes flashing like the weather he commanded.

“You continue to defy me - to shame me in my court! That is more than enough - let all present rise and pledge themself to the side of their choice.”

“Hold!”

Ares’ command was loud and forceful, surrounded by so much of the aggressive energy that he ruled. The miasma of malcontent and violence that existed as his nature had grown thick enough that neither elder god retorted, deferring to the patron of war in their way of respect.

“This is my domain,” Ares countered, smaller than either his father or uncle but in no way intimidated, the roar of battle to come empowering him further. “I demand the ability to state a faction of my own.”

“Permitted,” Zeus growled, fully aware of the inability any possessed to stop either war god from choosing whatever side they wished when enveloped in their domain. “For what purpose do you stand?”

Ares shifted his weight to a sturdier stance, raising his chin defiantly. “I stand in defense of the party wronged - for Athena and Hermes both. A path of neutrality that I do not take lightly - and should either of your roads dare cross too closely, I will fight tooth and nail to remove you from their place of rest. You can cause enough ruin on your own to sate me.”

“Contrary and boarish as ever, Alloprosallos. Very well. Then let all others here select whose banner they ally with.”

Unease befell the remaining gods. It was a surprisingly soft voice that spoke up first, the one among them that always watched, always observed, but hardly ever intervened these days.

“If it means maintaining neutrality, I think I would quite like to side with my nephew.”

Hestia’s gentle confirmation spurred the others to act as well. “I agree with Ares,” Apollo followed, lips thin and arms folded. “I cannot idly stand for either case, so I - I stand with them.”

Artemis could still feel the cold shock and horror that had overcome her when she had watched Zeus maintain his assault on Hermes, Apollo, Athena, and Ares. She could still remember the ringing in her ears as she had made to draw back her bow to strike down their father only for the lingering Aphrodite to halt her course, swearing that she would dissolve the four into seafoam if she but glimpsed Ares begin to falter - a better escape than attacking Zeus directly, especially since the king relented and recalled his bolt. “I follow my brothers.”

“I would prefer not to fight,” Hephaestus nodded, slowly meeting Ares’ eyes beneath his helm. “If that means putting aside our differences… then allow me to support Ares, as well.”

“I cannot abide the harm either of you have afflicted upon my niece and nephew,” Demeter scorned both of her younger brothers, the cross expression usually reserved for Hades now gifted to both in turn. “I am having none of this. Ares is who I shall support.”

“I fear I may have missed something of import in this past decade of revelry from war’s end,” Dionysus shifted uneasily, glancing between the growing anger between Zeus and Poseidon both. “But an Ares swearing to neutrality is maddening in itself, and I can hardly resist that sort of temptation.”

Zeus’ fists clenched at the blatant disrespect his children had all shown by their choices, ignoring the flinch Apollo gave as lightning scored the sky above them. Gods were always privy to choose the sides they wished - no true harm had fractured relationships between them in Troy, after all - but it was still infuriating to be left on equal ground against Poseidon.

“I think I shall join my beloved,” Aphrodite hummed, melting into foam and reforming to sit on Ares’ throne, for once not earning even a hint of irritation from Hephaestus. Hades coolly regarded both of his brothers, eyes dark and sharp as he looked between them.

“This explains why Hermes has not visited of late.” One of the few gods to ever visit his realm freely, even if they were not similar in demeanor, Hades quite appreciated the company of his bright and peculiar nephew. “Where war goes, death shall follow.”

With only one prospective ally left among them, Zeus turned his gaze to his wife. Hera had not once fidgeted or moved at all throughout the conversation, a mildly bored look on her face that endured every squabble and nonsense the gods provided her daily. It was to her and her alone that Zeus expressed the faintest hint of desperation, begging her through look alone to restore his dignity by not leaving his side of the argument with no followers.

Alas, while Hera regarded each and every one of Zeus’ bastards with reproach and disgust, Ares was her most favorite child. Besides that-

“I would delight in supporting our son in his endeavor.”

-there were none she loathed more than Zeus himself.

Notes:

listen as a pjo stan know that i hate hera and don't trust her as far as i can throw her but also know that this is EPIC hera and she has not yet committed some of the crimes i hold her to. more than that if there's ANYONE who founded the "i hate zeus" club it's her oml. she and hades both are sitting here like "an excuse??? to piss zeus off??? what are we waiting for???" and i love being able to bring some love to ares in EPIC bc gods know he ain't gon get it elsewhere. speaking of - Alloprosallos is an Ares epithet that relates to him flip-flopping sides in war.

odysseus you will never know peace. xoxo,

Chapter 2: it's all gonna turn out great

Notes:

steeples hands. once again i am a godless menace. ups chapter count. two am vibes are vibing. at least i only need to get up in nine hours instead of less and i already know it's a chronic insomnia sorta night so what's the harmmmmm

"i am strength" "i am speed" of course being references to HERMEEEEES and Ares (battle vid). iiiii love those two so much. it has me out here full championing like what if ares good? what if ares good brother and not bully? what if ares represents instinct and bloodlust but also has respect for war and its rules and meanings? if i had any fewer brain cells i swear i would've made a reference to the frog "strawberry jams/but my glock don't" shirt because icon, honestly

tries to gather train of thought. i almost feel like this fic is lowkey my attempt at balancing recovery like usual with some humor because i gotta hit heavy and then use a stun combo, yknow? i. i don't know. maybe i should go to bed,

Odysseus had hoped that the storm had ended after the first day - that Apollo’s blessing of sun and warmth on Ithaca had been enough to push the warring gods further out to sea. His spirits were bolstered when he had woken up the morning after the sun god’s visit in his own bed, entirely untroubled by nightmares for once, worn out by the previous day’s events.

It was looking up, at last. He had managed to enjoy breakfast with Penelope and Telemachus both, and Athena had managed to partake in ambrosia without any need for assistance. Seeing her truer, owlish form return to the more human one he and Telemachus were familiar with was a comfort, too, though she still lacked her armor and helm. It was always fascinating to view the red locks, so used to her hair being hidden or not hair at all, but feathers. He was more used to seeing it when she adorned herself in human guise, but never would he have guessed the color to be true.

Apollo’s visit had done more wonders for Hermes’ health, even if he was still far from recovered. Apollo had re-wrapped his burns and previous wounds, kissing Hermes’ crown with a shush any time he pulled away in panic. Apollo’s warmth was familiar enough to remind anyone of just who was putting their hands on them, but Odysseus swore that every time the two brothers made contact, he could hear the same hint of lyre that he had heard so long ago on Circe’s island. Apollo had managed to relax Hermes enough that he was no longer threatening to turn into a pile of feathers every time he startled, the only reminder being the scant dusting of colorful plumage on his shoulders and the wings that delicately rested behind his pointed ears.

Any convulsing had died down as the storm drifted away with Apollo’s lullabies, and Hermes was far too tired to put up a fight when nectar was pressed to his lips. No more throwing weak punches when Odysseus carefully combed through his hair, no more freezing painfully still when Athena let his head rest in her lap.

Any hope that Hermes would repeat his fortnight of sleep from his first appearance in Ithaca was dashed when storm clouds filled the sky once more not a day later. This time, at least, Athena kept her composure more readily, holding onto her humanoid legs and not letting panic pop her wings out. Odysseus, too, was weary enough to find amusement past his fear when he entered their chambers to a particularly violent bout of thunder, surprised to hear Hermes’ plaintive rasp of “Fuck!” as what remained visible of the two gods’ scars dimmed down after having been lit up by the lightning.

Hearing Hermes say anything was something to count as a win after his fall back into silence. God of language, indeed.

“Can’t tell if you’re feeling better or not,” Odysseus muttered, forcing a smile to obscure the way he still jumped at the flashes outside. He was given the rare reward of Hermes fixing a visible stare on him, a singular white eye piercing and conveying utmost exhaustion as he tried to raise a hand to palm at his temple, ignoring how it shook.

“Point taken,” the king sighed, walking slowly to the desk in the room to note what supplies were left. Apollo had brought a day or two’s worth of divine food, and he wasn’t really sure how much they were supposed to be eating. Whether or not the food of the gods was what bequeathed their immortality or simply were the only sustenance capable of providing for an immortal being was much debated between mortal philosophers, and he had only asked Athena about it once, far in his youth. She had dodged it with ease.

“So, are you immortal because you eat ambrosia? Or do you eat ambrosia because you’re immortal?”

“You ought be more concerned with what you will eat tonight, considering that you have not yet braved corralling that steer.”

If it was the former, they desperately needed to ply Athena and Hermes with as much as they could to ensure they would not succumb to their wounds. If it was the latter, they still needed the energy from eating to heal themselves - so it didn’t really matter which was true, if the outcome was the same.

Odysseus had intended to ask if either of them were interested in eating, but he stopped when he noticed shadowy figures behind the curtains, not only for the fact that it meant two men were encroaching suspiciously on the balcony, but because it meant that the sky was beginning to lighten again.

Athena merely exhaled softly, small smile masking the pain in her eyes. “Apollo… came back, then.”

It sounded like she was surprised, but Odysseus couldn’t know what she meant by it. From what he had seen of the archer, Apollo was very attentive to family matters.

He recognized the bulk of the other silhouette, too. He could almost taste iron on his tongue.

“Good morning! I see you’re awake. I, ah, brought company-”

Ares did not hesitate to remove his helmet and set it aside the remainder of ambrosia and nectar, stride strong and sure as he entered the room. Odysseus almost felt invisible as the war god ignored him entirely, turning on his heel toward the bed and letting his hair whip about his face from where it was tied up.

He stopped abruptly next to where Hermes lay, stooping down onto one knee as he scrutinized his younger half-brother. Hermes had already been pale before, but now he appeared ashen under Ares’ gaze, unable to mask the tremble of his fingers as he gave a meek wave.

With a surprisingly gentle hand, Ares dipped lower, supporting Hermes’ head upward as he pressed their temples together. Mouth set in a thin line, Ares pulled himself back, gaze tracking over every bandage that concealed a lightning-scorched burn.

“Ares,” Athena warned. Odysseus could almost sense phantom feathers bristling along her skin.

“You did not earn these scars.” If the thunder from the storm had been bad, Ares’ deep tone was almost worse. “There was no honor in this violence. This was undeserved, this was - this was punishment, not battle nor war - you should have run, Hermes. You’re good at that, remember? I’m strength, you’re speed.”

“If you’re inquiring as to whether I am stupid or brave, darling-”

Ares aggressively jabbed a finger toward Hermes’ face, eyes blazing from white to red at the way Hermes’ trace amount of feathers deflated, the way his voice was still rough from disuse, the way he could still see marks from where Poseidon had sewn his mouth shut-

“You are brave, Hermes! Brave, and a fool for thinking otherwise! Father and Uncle struck you unprompted, cheating and unfair in their attacks - it is pathetic! I cannot condone such craven, lazy acts! Only gutless assholes punch down, what kind of sick coward-!”

“I-” Hermes tried, unnecessary breath in his chest picking up with Ares’ declaration, “Ares-”

“Easy,” Apollo stepped in with a placating gesture, nodding slightly as Ares clasped Hermes’ hand in his own, Hermes weakly returning the hold. “Remember why we are here, Ares.”

For the first time Odysseus truly took the sun god in, still without words at Ares’ appearance. Apollo looked… dimmer than before, golden waves askew and standing as though he did not know how to hold himself. Far in the distance lightning lit up across the sea once more, and Apollo’s flinch did not go unnoticed.

A vision of blue passed over Odysseus’ eyes: Athena had seen it as well, but was not calling him out for it.

With little more than a brusque wave of his hand, Ares motioned for Apollo to continue on. The healer did so, fidgeting as he looked toward Athena - and briefly, at Odysseus - in a way that the king of Ithaca could not help but compare to a child confessing a transgression to their parent, their teacher - their older sibling.

“Zeus and Poseidon have… officially started their grievances in battle. They had summoned us to Olympus to settle what sides all would join.”

Odysseus’ heartbeat pulsed loudly in his ears, frozen still at Apollo’s words. Zeus and Poseidon, officially fighting - and with all of Olympus siding with one or the other? Then Apollo and Ares weren’t simple visitors - it was entirely possible they were there to assert power over them on behalf of the god they had selected.

Again, blue light filled his vision, but this time it did not immediately fade. Athena stared toward him from across the room, even as she slowly lowered herself down onto the edge of the bed.

“Hear them out-”

“This isn’t - we’re not safe, Athena, if Zeus or Poseidon is sending underlings to watch us-”

“Odysseus, breathe,” Athena challenged, anxiety writ in her brows more for him than for their situation.

“Athena, be reasonable-”

“Odysseus, you are not breathing. You cannot think if you do not breathe. Inhale.”

Odysseus sucked a breath in, watching Athena raise her fingers to count to four.

“Hold.”

This time he waited until she held up seven digits before she finished the command.

“Exhale, now. Slowly.”

Eight fingers were held up before she nodded, voice weary. “Again.”

Waiting for him to do as told, Athena carefully continued speaking. “Look at Apollo - he hides it well, but he was furious at Poseidon for harming Hermes and he has been shaken by Zeus’ unabashed attacks on his children. That, and I do not think that they would be so bold as to come here to do harm. Even if they did, did we not defeat them both in Troy?”

The absurdity of the remark caught Odysseus off guard, choking on his next timed inhale before a nervous laugh escaped him.

“Gods above, we did, didn’t we?”

With a slight nod, Athena released her Quick Thought.

Apollo continued where he had left off, either unaware of the time alteration that had taken place, or choosing not to mention it: “Ares claimed his right of domain to create a side of his choosing - one of neutrality, structured solely in the defense of - in defense of you both.”

The stunned silence was answer enough. Athena could not hide her surprise, her Quick Thought’s intervention unable to prepare her for such an answer. She rose back to her feet, looking Ares in the eye when he did the same to meet her.

“Neutrality, Ares? On account of - of us?”

Ares held his ground, snarl curling his lip. “Should either of them attempt any malevolence toward you here, all of us will rise to strike them back - every single one of them sided with me.”

“Including Hestia and Hades, in lieu of your inability to participate,” Apollo added, daintily picking up a piece of ambrosia and holding it out to Athena as though in an attempt to pacify her for being stricken from a battle roster. She took the offered bribe with a frown, looking down at it before quietly taking a bite.

“They will likely make themselves known soon,” Ares agreed, patting Hermes’ head gently before sparing a single look toward Odysseus. “Customary stuff, of course. Marking the place as sanctuary, setting wards to prevent either of them from lashing out here in anger.”

With that, Odysseus felt his mouth run dry. The mathematics ran through his head as he turned, suddenly feeling faint as he shut out the continued words of the divinities behind him - only to see Telemachus peeking into the room, an eyebrow raised and looking as though he was caught thieving snacks from the kitchen.

“Twelve,” Odysseus whispered.

“I… had noticed that the storm had started up again, and had only meant to check in on you all… Mother assumed that you would be here as well, Father,” Telemachus sheepishly tried, straightening up at Athena’s tired greeting. “What was that you said? Greetings Lord Apollo, Lord Ares.”

Odysseus hardly heard him, even when he stepped in to cautiously approach him, hand hovering over his shoulder in restraint of startling him.

Twelve. Four already here, eight to come. Twelve gods? The rest of the Olympians, as well as the other two first-born? Twelve gods with more pride and more volatile than all of humanity put together, each. A dozen gods within his abode. He needed to see if there was enough to eat - enough wine to pour out for libations-!

Wine. Dionysus. He had to offer wine to Dionysus?

Telemachus glanced past his frozen father toward where the four siblings remained, bewildered as he stole Athena’s attention in full. She didn’t seem overly concerned, giving a haphazard shrug as a translucent owl touched down onto Odysseus’ shoulder, nibbling at his ear and returning him to awareness. Uncertain in how to respond, Telemachus slowly retreated from the room, shutting the doors behind him.

“Telemachus, my heart,” Penelope moved past him, giving a small squeeze to his bicep, “a maid has informed me that a guest has been graced with xenia - could you please make sure that guards are posted in this wing so that our visiting family is not disturbed?”

“Oh - yes, Mom! Of course.” The smile he got in return lit him up, concern about… whatever was happening on the other side of the doors beginning to fade.

Maybe they’d be fine.

Notes:

thank you all once again for your support and love for this series oml i do not Deserve your kind words they are hopping me up on serotonin that my zoloft could only Dream of inhibiting uptake for which i realize is a very obscure sort of joke but that's the business baby. odysseus i am so sorry that you do not have the mental bandwidth to ready yourself for All This.

next chapter we'll see some,,, fun visitors! and enjoy rapid tonal shifts from somber and serious mentions of trauma and vague? humor? at seeing just how these gods interact with this feisty little mortal king that poseidon Swears has rabies. basically if you're here for the gods put on the vaguely rose-tinted "oh this is nbd" glasses and if you're here for odysseus, well. he's gonna need to save some of those libations for himself (disclaimer: drink responsibly and safely if you choose to pop a cold one w ody or i will cry) and yes! it is debated whether ambrosia/nectar makes the gods immortal by consuming it or that they consume it because they are immortal. who knows! i don't. it does make for fun prompts for anyone who wants them - if a god doesn't consume nectar and ambrosia responsibly, they can lose divinity. oops? run wild those who wanna whump 'em,

odysseus before, full of hope, home on the horizon: six hundred men under my command
odysseus now, exhausted and begging for an advil: a dozen gods within my abode

people really trust me with their mental health and i'm sitting here trying constantly to figure out how to parody lyrics into these fics - but hey, as a tip, if you're starting to feel overwhelmed or panicked, attempt 4-7-8 breathing to regulate the breathing by inhaling for four seconds, holding for seven, and exhaling for eight. Doing that for a couple minutes can help calm you down and stop hyperventilation.

okay yea i sleep now goodnight all xoxo

Chapter 3: storm (storm)

Notes:

it's 3:30am. i have lost control of this fic. i don't think i truly realized how much it was gonna be when i innocently thought it would be two chapters. uh. i know i COULD just commit and have this be one big chapter but like. i'm used to my typical chapters being 1k-2k words keeping things eeeven and not making lopsided chapters with some small and some long even though i know variety is ~good~. granted none of you care because you're getting the same fic in the end regardless of how i chunk it up, lol

anyways, uh. hestia and ares chapter xoxo

Penelope continued on her way, hoping to intercept the palace’s latest guest before they could get to Odysseus - gods knew her husband could use more time gathering his thoughts before dealing with more people. She had to admit, she was somewhat trepidatious about the amount of guests they had, lately - sure, they had all been divine thus far, but…

For the past ten years, since the fall of Troy and return of most men, her home had been flooded with suitors. Every time a new face turned up, she dreaded that the nightmare had begun anew.

It was for that reason that the knot in her chest eased upon finding a lone figure sitting on the hearth of the palace’s main fireplace. A woman, clearly, which undid the most of her nerves, her dress long and plain and only otherwise adorned by the veil upon her head. Ordinarily Penelope would have offered food and drink, anything to ease comfortability, but a strange feeling of pressure weighed her down as the woman spoke, voice soft, yet warm.

“I cannot stay long. Ever is it important to tend the flame of your home, and I cannot allow my own to wander unchecked.”

Penelope watched as she reached a single pale hand out, eyes widening as the fire within the hearth warmed further. The guest tilted her head just slightly, face only visible when Penelope dared glimpse under the veil’s trim.

Kind eyes, searingly white, accompanied the smile she was given. “You worry for your home. You have done much over the years to protect it and keep it functioning. Allow me to bless it now as you have throughout your tenure: may any who dare to wrest this homestead from the lineage of you and your king know that they are affronting me, and that none shall ever succeed in uprooting what has been planted here.”

Penelope smiled uncertainly as the woman stood, turning to cup both of the queen’s hands in her own. “Pardon?” The skin she could feel was warm and comforting, not unlike falling asleep next to the fire on a cooler day.

“Would that I had the time to greet your husband,” she murmured, thumbs gently running across Penelope’s knuckles. “So devoted to family and home is he, ever have I wished to bestow upon him a boon. My nephew now gives me such a chance, and I am pleased to finally ward this estate against those that would try to take it from you again.”

“I… am honored,” Penelope attempted to conceal the confusion in her tone as the guest withdrew, taking small steps back toward the fireplace. It was against xenia to ask questions of guests before they were fed, and as such she had no way of inquiring as to her suspicions.

“Hestia,” the goddess hummed with a nod, answering the unspoken curiosity and  lifting her head to gaze at her straight on. “I assure you, Queen Penelope, the honor is my own.”

Hestia stepped backward, into the flames, and disappeared.

 

6 0 0

 

Telemachus hovered outside of the guest chamber in which the gods resided, rolling onto his heels as he waited for a guard to pass him by. While he could, most certainly, go in search of one, he figured it would be easiest to do the job until one appeared - it meant that there was no way for a guest to come by in the short window between his absence and a guard’s arrival. He could distract with conversation easily enough, and if he simply projected his voice it would become clear to, at the very least, his father, allowing for whatever chaos that was held within to put itself in order.

He hadn’t really expected Odysseus to leave the room so soon, so Telemachus could not help his surprise as he turned to the door opening. “Oh, I-”

The man that exited was not Odysseus. Ares peered down toward Telemachus as the prince froze, watching the god manifest his helmet and put it on.

Though he could no longer see Ares’ face, Telemachus felt certain that it changed as the god of war’s body did. The tall and intimidating deity melted into something more appropriately sized, armor turning to the familiar set Telemachus saw every day as Ares disguised himself to mortal eyes.

“Oh, um. Lord Ares, it is very - very kind of you to offer yourself as guard for the room. It’s okay, though, I can - I can go get one to relieve you! Not that you tire, exactly, but…”

“Cease.” Telemachus quieted immediately at the order, a small huff following it as Ares turned to look at him fully. It was unnerving, seeing so little of Ares’ face, but, then, didn’t Athena and Hermes tend to hide theirs, too? Sure, Hermes mostly hid his eyes, but even Athena often wore her own helm that made it hard to see her fully.

Ares shifted uncomfortably, watching Telemachus go rigid. With a sigh that turned into a growl, he rolled his neck, choosing not to look the prince in the eyes for what he felt the need to say.

“Prince Telemachus. I misjudged you.”

“H-Huh?”

“When my sister fought to free your father… I criticized you. I deemed him as pathetic and weak as his son, and Athena flew into a fury and rage far more appropriate for me than her - she cares a great deal for you.”

“That’s… okay, Lord Ares.” Telemachus’ voice was small as he rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, not sure how exactly to respond to such a damning critique from a god. “I’m not very strong. Or brave. Especially compared to Father, I mean… I’ve never fought any war, or any monster, or any god…”

“Lies and falsehoods,” Ares grumbled, jabbing a finger toward Telemachus accusatorily. What little Telemachus could make out of his eyes seemed to burn when found. “None are born strong. Strength is built, and you have worked to build it. Bravery is learned in the moment of fear. Athena has trained you. You managed to defend yourself aptly under her tutelage. You have fought, and you have won. I do not see you buried with the suitors.”

“Father had to rescue me,” Telemachus shrank, uncertain. “That isn’t good enough.”

Ares leaned against the wall, folding his arms as he stared ahead through the palace. “Sometimes… rescue is necessary. Hostages and prisoners of war will always exist. Besides, you fought to the last - were saved when grossly outnumbered. I…”

A pause. Ares tried to school the anger that rose through him all over again as thoughts of those he dared to defend from their father and uncle peeked in.

“There are always winners and losers in war. I embody both. I have lost before, and… I, too, have been outmaneuvered, needing rescue. I was captured by giants, imprisoned in a jar. Helpless.”

“That’s…” Ares, admitting something vulnerable? To him? For… his sake? “I’m sure that you helped defeat them when Athena got you out, then! She helped me as much as she could against the suitors.”

“Not Athena,” came the soft exhale, Ares shaking his head. “Hermes. The god of clever tricks and lies, of merchants and shepherds… Easily the gentlest of my Olympian siblings, save perhaps Hephaestus. So no, little prince. I misjudged you. You have been fighting a war for years against social boundaries and political nonsense, fighting monsters every day that you could not strike for fear of breaking xenia.”

Xenia was Zeus’ domain more than anyone else’s, and to lash out at the suitors would have been criminal. Ares could not begrudge someone for not wanting to get on his father’s bad side. Even his shoulders rose and tensed at the thought of the thunder crashing in the distance, having come so close to meeting his end in defense of his siblings.

“To be brave isn’t about having no fear. It’s about being afraid, and fighting back… or even just moving forward, anyways, despite that fear. That’s what Mom always says.”

“Clever girl,” Ares smirked, pride searing his breast. “Just as your mother before you, the blood of Sparta flows through your veins. You wear it well.”

Telemachus lit up, shocked by the praise. “I - my thanks, Lord Ares!”

“Scram,” Ares scoffed in return, rolling his eyes even if none else could see. “I’ve got watch. I can’t speak for everyone that might arrive today, but I’m sure several of them are the others, here to give their bids and boons as a show of solidarity in our defense against Zeus and Poseidon. I’ll make sure only those with any business being there get through these doors.”

Telemachus found himself leaving his post, nodding as though he felt like any of what Ares said made sense to him. Defending against Zeus and Poseidon? Visits from other gods? If nothing else, his mother would benefit from hearing it - supposing his father already knew.

“Twelve.”

Oh. Was that what he had meant? Athena and Hermes were two, plus Apollo and Ares made four. And there was already another guest, one that Penelope had likely reached by now-?

Telemachus picked up his pace, centering himself. In the distance, beyond the windows of the hall, he could see the darkness of the sky over the sea, even though it was warm and pleasant in Ithaca. Nevertheless, he had to mentally prepare for whatever the gods could throw at them.

Steel his nerves.

Brace for a storm.

Notes:

every time i ever write (or think, even) the word "storm" i only hear it as the lyric. but i can't write that Out because that's wild. like. stOOooOOoORM? no, no. too lazy. too eepy. my head is full of longing for bed and wanting to kiss chickens on their little heads. chickens are so cute and nice, especially lil chicks that are still fluffy and figuring out how feathers work. but maybe rambling about chickens isn't what i am meant to do at this time of... morning, i guess.

but as you can sorta grasp from this chapter! ody might be wrong about readying favors for the gods this time around. then again, even if they're the ones giving boons, he's still just as stressed. relatable.

ok i am incoherent gn yall xoxo

Chapter 4: family's fate

Notes:

once again should i be asleep? oh absolutely. did i intend to post this rn? absolutely not, i wrote this chapter in less than an hour of sleepy haze of going "no but they deserve another chapter even if it's a lil short y'know" and hey - i'm done my masters, i'm done my practicum, i can't apply for licensure for a bit longer anyways - what else do i have to do than post fic at 3:30am? this chapter is demeter and dionysus and i'm sure dionysus would encourage the madness that is me writing and posting this late/early

epithet usage:
Chrysaoros- "Lady of the Golden Blade" referring to wheat
Androgynos- a reference to Dionysus' gender fuckery (/affectionate) and his roles of masculine and feminine energy hell yea king happy pride
Amphictyonis- symbolizing demeter's role of "wine and friendship," gotta include that when both of these two are here together
Antaea- "a goddess whom man may approach in prayers" (referring to the sort of role-reversal of deference between mortals and gods in this fic)
Enyalios- "warlike", for Ares

Odysseus had been loathe to leave the sanctity of the gods he was begrudgingly accustomed to, but it would not reflect well if he was not available to greet and attend to guests that arrived, divine in nature or otherwise. Perhaps the day could be mostly normal, if only he pretended to ignore the thunder in the distance and the foreboding presence that wrapped around him when a guard informed him that Telemachus was greeting a pair of guests that had recently arrived.

Normal. He had to perform normal king behavior, which meant that he simply had to stride across the palace at a solid pace without looking frantic or undignified, nevermind that Telemachus was likely being hounded by Olympians who wanted any sort of specific tribute-

“Father!” Telemachus greeted, raising a hand with a smile as Odysseus rounded the corner. Off to the side near the windows of the atrium was a woman that looked about the same age as Odysseus and Penelope themselves, a younger individual that was at most Telemachus’ age standing at his son’s side. While the woman’s hair was wrapped and her clothing was neat, her hands showed signs of labor and warmth from being sun-kissed. The youth, on the other hand, had long curls that fell around their shoulders, color the rich red of fox-hide, and a slender form, eyes so deeply indigo that they were nearly purple in hue.

“Lady Chrysaoros, Lord Androgynos,” Odysseus hastily bowed, unsure of what lengths Telemachus had already gone to in order to impress their piety upon them while remaining subtle enough that the staff across the way were not concerned, “know that we are honored to be your hosts, if there is anything at all that you would have us acquire in your name-”

“Be at ease, I assure you I have brought my aunt in her capacity of Amphictyonis, not Antaea,” smirked Dionysus, mortal disguise lifting only slightly from Odysseus’ eyes - enough to note the grape vines which were woven through his hair, the fruit a match for his eyes. “It is not what you can do for us, King Odysseus, but what we can do for you.”

“You are guests,” Telemachus stressed, awkward look on his face making it more than clear to Odysseus that he was struggling to balance between proper xenia and outright shying from godly intentions.

“Guests of my nephew Enyalios more than any other,” Demeter murmured, dress shifting to the colors of golden wheat and sunsets before their eyes. “He desires neutrality from my warring brothers. Such is an effort I can agree to.”

“I intend on dropping in on my wounded siblings, so I won’t make this too long - after all, Hermes, still? Athena, at ease? Ares, peacemaking? Such states are so against their natures that it astounds me they have not been driven to the edge of insanity! I would not miss it if they did!”

“Isn’t… being calm sort of the antithesis to that?” Telemachus tried, startling slightly as Dionysus’ attention snapped fully back to him. “Not that you wouldn’t know, of course, but-”

“Prince of Ithaca, you truly are refreshing. I insist on sharing a dance with you if I am able to lighten the moods of my fellows, no matter what Athena might say - but I must digress, my gift is of more import.”

With the slightest flick of his wrist, a bottle of wine appeared in the god’s hand. It was dark in hue and had the patterns of vines across its circumference in gold, and Dionysus waited patiently for Odysseus to take it when it became clear Telemachus would not.

“We really should be offering you wine,” sighed the sole survivor of his journey home, gently cradling the bottle. “I can’t say I fully understand what’s happening yet, but my thanks, Lord Dionysus, for such a treasured gift.”

“So long as it is in the possession of your family it shall never run dry,” the youngest Olympian noted, voice a mix of pride and quiet comfort. “Never again will guests consume every drop of drink.”

“Nor shall you want for food,” Demeter added, gesturing out to the royal fields in the distance through the open-air windows. “As long as your bloodline remains on the throne, never again shall your crops wither. Your harvest will always be plentiful enough for your family and whatever guests you shelter.”

Odysseus barely noticed how Telemachus moved to guide Dionysus through the hall toward his siblings, though the way the god pressed a hand to the small of Telemachus’ back in a way that made his son flush red as though he was wine-drunk could not be missed. Telemachus seemed flustered, but not upset, clearly more accustomed than Odysseus could ever have imagined him to be with their gods so close at hand.

Demeter closed the distance between them, however, one of her hands delicately touching to the fingers atop the bottle.

“Know that the lengths you have gone through to reunite with your son have not gone unseen nor unappreciated, Odysseus. It is admirable how fiercely you fight for your child upon being separated. It is a hope I hold true to my breast that you shall never again be parted by anything but choice.”

“I… am honored to be held in such high praise,” Odysseus bowed his head, careful to lower himself to below even Demeter’s feigned mortal height in respect. With a warm hum she squeezed his bicep, the image of her beginning to fade out of sight.

“I am not one to linger. Good luck, King of Ithaca, in providing this sanctuary to my brother’s children. You have done more for them than he has in the short time you have known them.”

Like an autumnal wind, Demeter drifted beyond reach, form dissipating and leaving little more than the scent of poppies and freshly baked bread behind.

An unending source of wine and a promise of plentiful harvests, with nothing expected in return but for him to continue doing as he already was? It was enough to make a stronger man’s head swim, yet the ground remained solid beneath his feet.

It was only fair to offer libations anyways, Odysseus reasoned, turning away from the quiet room. The image of Penelope brought warmth to his chest and a smile to his face - there was no one he could imagine sharing god-given drink with more than her.

If offering boons and gifts was what the gods desired, so be it. Far worse had happened, and Odysseus wasn’t about to look gift horses in the mouth, even though he had thwarted Troy by their insistence of the same courtesy. To be at home with his family, secure with them in finally having the gods overwhelmingly on his side?

Ghosts of decade-old encouragements filtered through his head: What do you live for? What do you try for? What do you wish for?

This was more than worth fighting for.

Notes:

happy pride month to everyone but especially dionysus, but also gods help him trying to flirt with telemachus because tele has no idea what the Heck is going on

i am not sure this chapter is Proper and Right and. idk how to explain that thought but. brain tired. all i knew was fruity dionysus (ha, ha) definitely had to happen before the month was over. lots of little symbols to both gods here - for example, i gave dionysus' mortal disguise here red hair because his followers often wore fox skins.

ty so much as always for how wonderful all of you are about this fic but this series in general. it is so so kind and uplifting to have such support! i was gonna ramble again but i just erased it bc it was incoherent even for me oops. next chapter isssss probably focused on hera, aphrodite, and hephaestus, so i'll see you then!

i go sleep now

Chapter 5: never once has he cheated on his wife,

Notes:

sorry for the brief lapse - been popping around tryin to work on all the things i have in my mind and also angrily throwing rocks because i can't work until i'm licensed and i can't be licensed until i take the exams for it and i can't take the exams until i have my transcripts and i ordered my transcripts twenty three days ago,

being able to sleep and play my vidya games has been nice, though. and to write fully creatively instead of for class, that too,

i go bed now <3 admittedly this chapter was the one i was least interested in writing lmao (which might explain a bit of the wait oop-) but next chapter. mm. rattles my cage.

cw: calypso mention + what is included With a calypso mention (ie., referenced SA)

“My love, you would never-”

“You may think me crazy, but-”

Odysseus let the door to his bedroom shut softly behind him, a smile hesitantly on his face as he stopped speaking, gesturing to allow Penelope to continue.

She grinned warmly in turn, moving closer to wrap her arm in his. “The goddess Hestia placed a blessing upon our homestead, my love! A ward against those who would defile it - a boon I can hardly put words of thanks toward, as precious as it is.”

“Demeter, too,” Odysseus added, kissing Penelope’s jaw with more fondness than his body could contain. “She exerted her powers on our fields for ample harvests to come. Dionysus yet roams the palace, shepherded by our son - he has gifted us an unending drink of wine.”

It was with ease and familiarity that he poured them both a glass, the weight of the bottle never once lightening as he did. Odysseus presented the cup to Penelope where she sat upon their bed, feeling nearly thirty years younger with his gaiety as he fell in beside her, taking a sip. The wine was aromatic and rich upon his tongue, dry and sweet at the same time.

It was only as she rested her head against his chest and listened to him explain the point of the visiting gods that he truly began to feel at ease again. The thunder in the distance was little more than noise, the divinity in his halls caring for each other without him needing to intervene. No harm would befall Telemachus so long as Athena was present, and he had no doubt that whatever the bearer of thrysus intended, it was in no way malicious.

Perhaps he had gone soft since he had come home. Perhaps the knowledge of having gods on his side, for once, had distracted him. Perhaps he had opened his arms without much thought to let Penelope into them. The reason mattered little, in the end: it could not change the fact that, upon looking up into the boughs of the olive tree, he saw a flash of white.

It was only Penelope’s quick reaction to his upward glance that spared the poor dove from being batted against the wall. In an instant she shifted to block him from the bird, knowing he would not dare to strike her while also making sure she did not have to restrain him and trigger a downward spiral. Instead she reached out a sturdy hand for the dove to alight upon, giving a soft coo as though pleased, fluffing up nicely on its new perch.

“Oh, so tenderhearted. I can see why dearest Athena championed you so.”

A trickle of seafoam dripped down from the olive tree’s boughs, puddling on the floor before shaping into a beautiful figure. Though it was clearly Aphrodite that stood before them, it was hard to look at her closely: her features seemed as liquid as she had been before, shifting and changing to reflect beauty as one perceived it.

At first, Odysseus could not help but want to recoil, watching as hair grew dark and eyes softened into a mirror of his beloved wife - it was far too similar to the trick the sirens had attempted. But then he watched as the grin the goddess gave melted into the same one he had not seen in ten long years since the war’s end, since Polyphemus stole it from the world, and he felt his aching soul relax into ease.

“You love so deeply, Odysseus. It is a quality I cannot help but admire. Athena said that your reunion would be an event worth my time - I daresay she was quite correct.”

“Indeed.”

This time Odysseus could not hide his startle, even with Penelope patting his thigh. Sitting near to the dresser where many of their finer jewelry were kept was another woman, her garments far more modest than the absence of Aphrodite’s. The necklace that hung about her neck was nearly a full tail of peacock feathers, colors bright and intricate if not a bit much.

“Rarely am I given opportunity to thwart my husband,” Hera mused, her gaze as sharp as a blade and as deadly as Scylla. “He has acted out against me more times than one can count. Yet here you are, King Odysseus, having spent twenty long mortal years away from your homestead - and not once did you stray from your wedded vows. Lesser men would have crumbled over their prisoners of war, as Apollo has lamented - would have easily agreed to Circe’s bargain, would have accepted the fate Calypso bestowed you. Even when you were taken against your will, you only ever had thoughts for your wife.”

Penelope’s hand tightened around his own, lips pressed in a thin line at Hera’s indelicate statement.

“People will believe as history will state it to be: that the Trojan War was provoked by Paris selecting the rightful goddess as most beautiful, and being promised Helen, despite her marital ties.” The jab toward the queen of Olympus only made Hera’s eyes narrow, though Aphrodite did not seem to care a whit. “Would it not be more accurate a statement to say that you are the one who truly started this mess?”

“I…”

“You helped the kings of Greece devise how and who best to court Helen, to take her as a wife,” Aphrodite hummed, smile almost predatory against the glee in her eyes, “all so that your path would be clear for the one who had you besotted. You desired Penelope, so you made certain that all others looked to Helen - and as such, Menelaus betrothed her. Had they continued to bicker over who would win her heart, none would have reason to hunt Paris for taking her - she would have been beholden to none. Such is the power of love: it starts wars and ends them all the same. It is what brings me here, now.”

“We have elected to join the side of my son,” Hera explained, waving her hand flippantly in the direction Ares no doubt was in. “While neither of us are keen to provide boons for so little - Aphrodite for her losing side in the war, myself for being above such paltry gifts - there is no doubt that, if anything, your heart and your steadfastness is to be rewarded. Twenty years apart and both surrounded by temptation, only for one not to fold and the other to devise tricks to keep unwanted suitors at bay…”

The dove upon Penelope’s hand took flight, turning to swoop and fly directly into the trunk of the tree. Hera, too, stood, a brilliant scepter appearing in her hand as she pointed it toward their marital bed.

“As Hera Syzygios, queen of Olympus, I decree that the testament of your loyalty-”

“-and love, of course-”

“-and love, yes, shall be forever kept as symbol by the very tool that proved your love when first it began, and when at last you were reunited.”

Aphrodite gently traced the tips of her fingers down the bark of the tree, a true fondness warming her face. “Fire and time will have no weather upon this tree, this bed of your devotion. None shall tear its roots from the ground, and any attempt to cut it down will end in the breaking of the daring tool. May it flourish eternally, just as your romance shall, I have no doubt.”

In the distance, within the altar the palace boasted, Hephaestus could not help but roll his eyes. It was plain enough to him that the king and queen would not want to be so disturbed, especially considering the depth of love his wife and mother boasted. There was no reason to overwhelm the humans with their countenance when so much was already happening. Falling over himself to dote was not in his best nature.

No, the royal family would come across his offering at their own pace. No need to intrude.

It was about time they had proper, full shrines to Athena and Hermes both, with how entwined they were with this bloodline, anyhow.

No big deal.

Notes:

honestly, you all always astound me with your kindness and how often you not only come to read my things, but reread them. it means the whole world to me, especially with how listless i feel now that i can't Do Shit until my damn transcripts- but regardless, i keep getting comments not only praising the fics, but talking of how they help you, too, with what you've been through. i'll cry, y'all, that really means everything to me. know that i would reach out to every single one of y'all if i could to just be an ear - even those of you commenting as guests (and i'm so sorry that i don't reply to guest comments! i just know that since they're guest comments that there's no way for you to know i've replied, i feel so bad but i promise i read them and hold them close to heart too!)

next chapter will focus on circling back to artemis and apollo. sometimes i think about how it's commonly said "apollo and artemis" but how that feels like it implies that apollo is the older twin when artemis is commonly shown as the older twin by having her born and immediately help leto birth apollo as she is a childbirth goddess. hm. i won't lie the next two... three weeks are gonna be a lilllll hectic. got a birthday (woo!), convention, and jury duty to attend to, but know that this fic is definitely gonna get done along the line somewhere! especially if it means using apollo as a chew toy as i. well. am wont to do.

and of course: Syzygios is an epithet of Hera regarding her as patron of marriage! <3

bed for real now byeee i cherish you all dearly <3

Chapter 6: have faith, friend

Notes:

e,,,extends chapter count one last time

it is almost 4am and i am BIG eepy but this chapter was starting to get long for me and i felt like maybeeeee i could just,,, cut it into two,,, casually,, y'know,,,

have my transcripts come in? still no i'm dying on the floor. now i've gotta Call people and be Direct about it and i am full of so much executive dysfunction over it. however! i never had to go in for jury duty, so that's a win, and Otakon was another fun time - there were several EPIC cosplays and merch, and even a photoshoot for it. while i was busy cosplaying ffxiv/trying not to die from heatstroke, i did talk to a couple cosplayers! i said hi to a hermes and aeolus duo because i was enchanted by the aeolus cosplay, it was very pretty and i hadn't seen any others as aeolus there!

anyways slight tw for references to threats of sexual assault re: the suitors.

fun fact since i just remembered i used the word in this - "nibling" (niblings, plural) is a gender neutral word for nephew/niece and i love it so much so i sorta just. throw it out there sometimes. also dionysus is still bein fruity @ telemachus because i do not control him, he writes himself,

“I admit, I am surprised at the lengths you have gone. The Trojan War is still so recent. How many of your devoted followers swell my ranks now?”

Athena was not sure how it had come to pass that she was bearing witness to her uncle wheedling Apollo, but so far, there was an uneasy calm. Of his relatives Hades was not one Apollo got on well with, their very natures of healing and death not ones that often went hand in hand. It was curious, then, that Hades was Hermes’ favorite of his uncles and aunts to match Apollo as his clear favorite sibling, even if Apollo could not reciprocate such a claim. Favorite brother, perhaps.

Admittedly, most of them shied from Hades. Death was not frightening to gods, generally, and Hades did not have the temper that his brothers boasted, but he was… unfamiliar. An unknown. He rarely, if ever, left his domain, and few were capable of entering it. Other chthonic gods dwelt in the Underworld, but there were only two gods that came and went regularly. Of Persephone and Hermes, however, only Hermes had full freedom of movement.

So it was odd to watch him interact with Hermes now, among the living. His form was a mix of lean muscle and skeletal angles, his long dark hair flowing down his back like the rivers of his kingdom. There was always something vaguely uncanny in how he looked; no matter how the light caught him, his face was always in shadow.

Yet here he was, perfectly content in sitting upon the bed, acting entirely normal as Hermes sat up against his side. Hermes had not sat up on his own since Zeus had smote him, yet he was steady where Hades supported him, his uncle chiding and patient at once as he urged both niblings to partake in nectar. And he still had the energy to spare to goad Apollo, it seemed.

For what it was worth, the bait was keeping Apollo engaged, Athena reasoned. The sun god had dutifully kept the storm out at sea ever since his arrival, light and warmth echoing through the windows. It was nearly dusk now, however, and Apollo’s pacing had taken a nervous turn. Still, he scowled back at Hades.

“I cannot hold the blame for Astyanax’s death over Ithaca’s king. Zeus issued him a prophecy - one I did not ordain, one that may not have come to pass as true as a result - and how can one blame a mortal for bowing to the god king’s orders? Father has never cared about any child of mine, be they mine by blood or claimed in my name. The onus is not for Odysseus to bear.”

Hades tilted his head just slightly, preparing another comment to stop Apollo from wearing the floor down with his nerves, when Ares opened the door. The kingdom’s prince entered with a few plates, Dionysus overly close to him, an arm wrapped around his waist.

“Father thought it would be appropriate to share a dinner with everyone - everyone that’s still here-”

“I reminded the intoxicating little mortals that we are fine to subsist on our ambrosia, but the king was awfully stubborn that we at least come together to eat, regardless of what it is we’re actually consuming. A strange sort of dinner party, but one I fully support!”

Telemachus flustered at being spoken over, but fell into sitting next to Athena with little upset. She relaxed at his side, one wing opening to wrap behind him - though he swore he heard a faint snort as Dionysus plopped down on the floor between their legs, combing his fingers through his hair before snapping with a flourish. Several dishes appeared on platters before them, assortments of roast fowl and warm bread and fresh fruit alongside pitchers of more nectar and bowls of ambrosia.

Telemachus was far too distracted by the way the youngest Olympian tilted his head back to offer him a grape - one already held delicately by the god’s teeth, which earned a kick in the back from Athena - to notice the lord of the dead fade into the shadows of the room, disappearing altogether when Apollo replaced him at Hermes’ side.

Ares nodded at him as he went, throwing a small piece of ambrosia at Dionysus’ face before he could pout at Athena for scolding him.

 

6 0 0

 

The last time Odysseus had sat around eating and sharing in comradery with a group like this had been ten years ago, now. Then, it had been his men. Now it was a group of Olympians, and there was no way to wrap his head around it.

So he stopped trying.

Dionysus kept instigating among his siblings with a smile and bat of his eyes no matter how much Athena lectured him. In fact, each time she expressed disapproval, he seemed to preen more - until Ares would snort humorously as Telemachus balked, the sound of Hermes laughing bright and infectious despite the deep winces it brought, soothed away by a sunlit hum. It made Odysseus ache for Ctimene to join them, though having Penelope at his side was a wonder and blessing enough as she teased and did her best to stain his jawline with olive oil from the kisses she would press there.

Perhaps Athena was still too on edge, eyes darting to the windows when thunder was faint in the distance, but then Telemachus would gently elbow against her ribs and nag her to eat some ambrosia. Perhaps Hermes’ laugh was smaller than Odysseus remembered, but it felt more genuine and endearing for it. Perhaps he himself felt overwhelmed by the emotional rollercoaster of the day, but he still remained sitting there, taking a part in the meal, unwavering.

He had never really expected the gods, at large, to ever be… like this. Perhaps it was their divinity that was so off-putting, perhaps it was the many lessons he had learned over his life while interacting with them. Gods were dangerous, egotistical, and often didn’t realize or didn’t care about the fragility of mortal lives - and yet.

Yet here they were, some of the most powerful in the pantheon, banded together over injustice toward family - something Odysseus could not only understand, but respect. And when Telemachus childishly stuck his tongue out at Dionysus after taking Athena’s side in a silly argument, Odysseus found he did not fear repercussion for him - no more than Dionysus threatening to take a bite out of his son, only to be shot down by a winged sandal being tossed at him from the bed.

He barely noticed when the faint sounds of a lyre played in his ears to the same words he had spoken to Eurylochus a decade ago:

“I still believe in goodness.”

There was no lyre in the room that he could see, and between the way Hermes’ eyes were hidden once again and Apollo was drinking nectar with a grip so tight his tanned skin turned white, there was no way of knowing whose fault it was. Either way, his own words thrummed internally against the beat of his pulse:

“I still believe that we could be kind.”

Perhaps his luck had run out, but fortune always waxed and waned. There had been many years, now, where kindness seemed so far beyond what he could reach - thoughts and hopes of approaching with a gentle heart dashed upon the rocks of ruthlessness and a false paradise - of how he could no longer count on anything to approach with such softness at all.

Yet the war god had declared neutrality on behalf of his kin, and divine siblings could jest and tease and embrace just as well as humans in a moment of rare downtime.

The energy cooled as the evening turned to night, those socializing doing so with quieter tones and less vigor than before. With the calmer feeling in the room, even Odysseus found that he was not startled by the figure that appeared outside on the balcony, despite the lack of warning in her arrival.

Hair as dark as night was braided back, eyes shining like silver as the woman stepped indoors. She was easily of the smallest stature among the gods within, appearing somewhere along the cusp of childhood and womanhood both.

“Iocheaira,” Athena greeted warmly, nodding toward Artemis as she stalked closer toward the group. Her sharp gaze quickly inspected all within before she inclined her head in return, taking a slow breath.

“I see that the moon did not rise too late to make an appearance among you.”

“Nah, festivities always get better at the later hours,” Dionysus welcomed, tossing a piece of ambrosia her way. Artemis caught it with deft fingers, entirely unfazed as she walked around the plates of food on the floor so that she might approach Odysseus and Penelope. She remained standing once there, looking down toward Odysseus until he stood as well, silently following her to one corner of the chamber in unspoken command.

“Lady Chrisilakatos.” He let himself bow slightly in her presence, determined not to waver under her appraisal. He could feel the gentle press of reassurance at the back of his mind from Athena as well as the comfort of Penelope’s eyes on him. He had made it through all the other gods, and he would not fall to one now.

“At ease,” Artemis returned, tone soft and yet as deadly as any one of her arrows. “I, like the others, am not here to bring retribution for Troy. No, King Odysseus - I witnessed my father strike Hermes down, watched as he yet hurled more violence down toward him even when iatrus went to aid him-”

Artemis inhaled deeply at that, anger darkening her eyes. Odysseus did not let himself reply, not trusting his wit to handle the fury of the divine huntress. Artemis took a mere moment to center herself before she restored her attention fully on Odysseus, shoulders rolling back as she took him in.

“I take it that my brother has not informed you of what our gift is to your household, fretter that he is. Undoubtedly he has been glued to epimelios as though his own hands do not shake and his own mind is not haunted. There is nothing physical we have for you, as we have chosen not to offer something of such material substance. Your skills as an archer are indeed commendable, but we see no need to reward such strength with what we could otherwise offer. Instead…”

The goddess placed a gentle hand to the wall. For the briefest of seconds Odysseus could make out an image of a deer running out from her touch, a wreath of laurel crowning its antlers, before the sight vanished before him.

“This is a gift from our realms of alexicacus and kourotrophos. It is our duty to be protectors of young men and women, especially children. Under his divine protection he shall make certain that this home is safe for those like your son - under mine, may no woman fear assault within the bounds of this palace. Any slight toward our oaths will be duly punished - and as you are well aware, Apollo and I do not offer anything less than thorough retribution.”

Such was true - the twin Olympians had made their wrath far too known to all of the Greeks in their travels and onslaught of Troy. Though they were not heralded as war gods quite like Ares or Athena, they were both fearsome to count among one’s enemies - and Odysseus prayed he would never be against them again.

Especially now, especially with this blessing - eternal food and drink was prosperous indeed, and ensuring that their family would reign without threat was legendary among offers. The blessing of their marital bed had been an honor he had never imagined being granted, but this? The guardian of maidens vowing that never again would Penelope - or indeed any woman that came after her - face the threats that the suitors had pressed upon her? That should any dare to threaten the well-being of his son, they would burn in the wrath of the sun?

“I…” He could hardly conceive of what to say, mind for once empty and still in the face of such a gift. “My thanks, Lady Artemis Ariste. My gratitude goes beyond the realm of even my forebearer.”

“Language is fickle; deeds, less so.” Artemis agreed, looking back over the group of talking people. “If you fear that you will neglect us by retiring, know that such is not the case. I will make certain that all my brothers, barring Hermes, have left by morning. I myself am drained from being around so many of them - I cannot imagine the toll on a mortal.”

There was a weariness to Odysseus’ bones, he knew that plainly. Under any other circumstance the thought of leaving a half dozen Olympians to their own devices within his home was unthinkable, though…

This day had not gone as planned, but maybe, with all of the offered hands bestowing help, be they Penelope’s patience or godly blessings?

Odysseus found he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

Notes:

don't worry i haven't forgotten about hades! his gift will be in the next chapter ;) along with some more godly sibling bonding. oh boy the late night air is hitting i need to not yap lemme at least get the epithets out-

iocheaira- "she who shoots arrows"
chrisilakatos- "of the golden arrow"
iatrus- "physician"
epimelios- "taking care of animals" - artemis specifically selects this epithet for hermes in relation to the bond between hermes and apollo over shepherding!
alexicacus- "warding off evil"
kourotrophos- "protector of children"
ariste- "goddess of women"

while i know that apollo and artemis are more protectors of young men/women, more adolescents and children, i think that artemis would extend this further to penelope as the protector of women in general. the two most closely bonded of the godly siblings of course have a lot of care in their heart for protecting family, and so they would offer such a boon to odysseus, as well, knowing how many arrows he loosed upon the suitors when he returned home.

trying to wrap up the yap so i can Bed but. genuinely, truly, thank you all so much for your kudos and comments and bookmarks and - your words are all so kind and warm. knowing that my writing has helped some of you, inspired some of you, comforts some of you - in this downtime period i have i still feel as though i am doing my duty of being there for others best i can. lord knows my hyperfixations have been ping-ponging all over the place and i am sooo easily distracted by like ten different fandoms but the love and support that you all have given to me really really keeps me coming back. i am genuinely so honored that this series is so loved <3 ... a 130-something page doc of love, how did this series get so long omg,

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 8 of we could be kind