Chapter Text
Stab, duck out of range, repeat.
It's alarming how easy it is to fall back on the old tactics.
Of course, Polites thought 10 years of war would do that to a person. Following Odysseus's orders, he struck the heels and moved out of range, circling until the cyclops let down his guard again.
He doesn't like fighting. He doesn't think he ever would. But someone has to fight the war for the people who can't. Besides, he reassured himself he struck first. Even so, he mourns the life that must be shed.
The cyclops roared in pain, so loud that Polites heard it over the shouts of the men, and for one flitting moment, Polites feared the ceiling would fall. Suddenly the cyclops had its club in its hands. And it was coming straight. for. him.
Dimly he thinks he should run. Do something. Move! But his muscles wouldn't give. He thinks he sees someone running towards him from the corner of his eye, but all he can do is stare at the club as it sinks closer and closer towards him. Right as it was right on top of him, he felt someone push him out of the way. Skidding away from the club and on the floor, with a CRACK, the club fell.
Suddenly he was a child, wide-eyed and staring as a boar charged closer and closer. And just like now, he was pushed out of the way. Polities saw Odysseus push him out of harms way as the boar's tusk grazed Odysseus's leg. Swiftly like a bolt of lightning, he had a feeling who pushed him out of the way.
No.
He scrambled up to his feet and ran over to the body.
NonononononoNO
“Captain…?”
There on the ground was the broken body of Odysseus.
His captain. His friend. Dead.
He dropped to his knees, fumbling for a pulse, checking his breathing, anything.
Nothing.