Chapter Text
The waves at the foot of the cliff grew quieter. The roar of battle, which had shaken the air just moments before, died down, replaced only by the hissing of foam. Odysseus, breathing heavily, stood over the fallen body. His sword, with which he had dealt six hundred blows, turning his trident into a weapon of a thousand wounds, fell from his weakened hand. The body of the god that lay before him was no longer a colossus. It was merely a wounded, bloodied giant, wheezing.
Odysseus turned to leave. He took a step, two, three, across the wet sand. And then it began.
At first it was a moan, low and vibrating, making his teeth ache. Then the moan began to fragment, disintegrating into frequencies that should not exist in nature. The voice of Poseidon, the Shaker of the Earth, was transforming into something else. It became high-pitched, piercing, unbearably sweet and... familiar. Familiar to the point of icy horror.
It was the cry of the sirens.
The very same ones whose severed tails he had once cast into the sea. Their death song, full of pain and curses, now burst from the throat of the God of the Seas. Odysseus froze. Instinct screamed at him not to turn around, but the warrior's reflexes were stronger. He turned his head sharply.
A shockwave, invisible and all-destroying, crashed down on him. The world turned into a white flash and a roar. Odysseus was thrown backwards into the cliff with such force that the limestone cracked. The light faded, leaving only dancing crimson spots before his eyes.
How much time had passed—a moment or an eternity—he didn't know. As his vision began to return, the blurred outlines of the world formed a picture that defied his conscious mind.
There were two of them.
One, the smaller one, was no taller than Odysseus himself. He lay on a huge boulder, his body... his body was riddled with the very thousands of wounds the King of Ithaca had just inflicted. He was motionless.
The other... The second was tall. A veritable colossus. He stood unsteadily on his own two feet, a terrifying, triumphant smile frozen on his face. This giant didn't even glance at his wounded self. His entire attention was riveted on Odysseus.
An instant—and a huge hand closed around Odysseus's throat. The impact with the rock was the second that day, knocking the air from his lungs.
"Finally, he won't bother me," whispered a voice like the sound of the surf. The giant leaned close to Odysseus's face, and his smile widened. "You know, O great Odysseus of Ithaca, you are very fortunate that at our first meeting..."
He turned his gaze to the prostrate body of the lesser god. Such disgust swam in his eyes, as if he were looking at a dead jellyfish.
"...HE kept me from killing you."
Odysseus, wheezing and trying to tear at the steel fingers on his neck, looked at this scene and couldn't believe it. Two Poseidons. One, the embodiment of fury and storm, standing before him now. The other, the one he had wounded, who, it turns out, had been... protecting him all this time?
The giant clutched his coats tighter, preparing to deliver the justice he so craved.
And at that moment, lightning split the sky. It struck exactly where the giant had just stood. The sea god, managing to dodge at the last moment, roared in rage and, casting a hateful glance at the thunderer who had appeared out of nowhere, simply... vanished. Disappearing into the salty air.
And before Odysseus, shaking the earth with the weight of his tread, stood Zeus. A grim Hades emerged from the shadows next to him, followed by the other Olympians.
Zeus paid no attention to Odysseus. His gaze was fixed on the small figure on the stone. The king of the gods turned paler than he had in millennia.
"Damn it!" he roared, sending rocks raining down from the surrounding cliffs. "Apollo! Take him to the infirmary now!"