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Odysseus and the men had somehow rowed from the shore of Polyphemous’ island. At first the adrenaline still ran rampant, and Odysseous had barked orders at the men as if they were still in the midst of battle. One poor sailor winced when she shoved past him without a thought, but Eurylochus had laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. The rage and the fury in her bones died a little, and she and Eurylochus had just… stared at each other. 

They had lost their best friend. Dear Polites…

Whenever Odysseus had thought Troy would break her, ruin her morality, Polites had always reminded her of everything good and beautiful of Ithaca. He had supported her since they were children, since before the golden laurel crown had been placed on her head. 

He and her brother-in-law were one of the few people that knew her truth. They hadn’t cared. They were family. 

And now he was gone. 

After two days of sailing, Odysseus mechanically ordered the men to anchor at a small island and set up camp. With their newly acquired sheep cooking, the men filled their water stores and harvested edible plants from the island. Eurylochus had set up a fishing line on the shore and offered to have her join him. Odysseus shook her head but gave him a reassuring smile. 

She had someone to deal with. 

Ever since she had ignored Athena’s sharp words in the midst of fighting the cyclops, the goddess hadn’t appeared to her. Usually, Odysseus felt a constant presence in her mind, a reassurance that her patron goddess was with her. But with the grief clouding her mind, she had hardly noticed the absence of it. 

After gathering firewood with some of the men, she’d felt the anger of Athena in her mind, snapping her mind almost out of reality. She’d hissed and startled her men. After checking with her other captains and leaving Eurylochus in charge of their crew, she ventured out into the forest, hand on her sword. 

Athena’s frustration pulsed in her temples, and when Odysseus finally sat on a fallen tree, twiddling with Polites’ headband, the goddess appeared in a blinding light. Odysseus cringed at the shriek of an owl piercing her ears and held her hands up defensively as Athena’s owl form swiped dangerously near her face. 

“So this is what I am to you, Odysseus?!” roared Athena. “Someone to talk to at your convenience. An advisor you can dismiss! ”

Odysseus swallowed hard. “I’m… I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to scare the men anymore.”

Athena sneered, morphing into her warrior form, her helm glinting in an ethereal beam that lit up the dark forest. She was taller than she usually was, and she bent her helm-clad head inches from Odysseus’ eyes. “Oh… you should be afraid,” she laughed hauntingly. “Do you realize what you have done?”

Odysseus fought the urge to turn her sight away. She had already ignored the goddess once and turning away would only anger her more. “I know. I got my men killed. I should have acted sooner, put more lotus into the wine or—”

Athena growled, pure rage in her tight form. “You reckless, sentimental mortal!” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Where is this coming from? This… regret. That is not what I have taught you.”

Odysseus shivered. This is the will of the Gods! The words of Zeus and the patheon echoed in her mind from the nursery in Troy. Athena’s voice had been there too, demanding the death of Hector’s infant son. They hadn’t talked about it. They hadn’t discussed any of the deaths, the struggles, or the sleepless nights Odysseus endured. But surely the goddess wasn’t blind to her guilt?

“I have told you since I lend you my blessings that you cannot be a soft queen, that you cannot rule from the heart like a king’s wife. You’re a warrior meant to lead. How many more dead friends will you lose before you realize that?”

“Hey!” burst out Odysseus, her restraint slipping. “Don’t bring them into this. Don’t act like you cared about them.”

“Stop this,” ordered Athena sternly. She straightened up again and gazed at the stars. “I warned you over and over again, daughter of Laertes. I warned you not to sway, but when have you ever listened to me? From taking a lover and a child, disrespecting me to my face. To casting my words aside! You gave the cyclops your name, you idiot.”

Odysseus stood like lightning, hands balled at her side. The goddess only cocked her head at the angry display. Odysseus’ heart shattered like glass. She knew Athena had been… displeased when she married the prince of Sparta in secret, but had she actually taken it as blatant disrespect? Of course, she had. Odysseus scoffed. The goddess wanted her to be nothing but a mindless pawn, a reflection of her, a perfect follower. No love, no remorse, and no doubt. 

As if reading her own thoughts, Athena sneered and spoke in a low voice. “I have taught you for seventeen years, and you still ignore the wisdom I freely give you. I don’t know where I went wrong…”

Odysseus froze at the words. When she was young and willful, she had often rebelled against Athena. But the goddess often scolded her, and endearing look in her eyes that hardened over the years. As Odysseus had aged, she had learned not to question the goddess on things (in the heart of Troy, with the blood, oh such blood , haunting her dreams there had been no time for doubt). But even when she had messed up, never had the goddess been this angry

“You failed me for the last time. If my teachings mean so little to you, then I will leave you be. I will give you my goodbye and see how you fare then without me, Odysseus!” the goddess shouted, shapeshifting back into an owl. 

No, no, no… Was that it? All those years, almost two decades a waste? She couldn’t… Odysseus’ heart pounded, and her breath came in quick. Athena flapped her wings, preparing to take off. 

Her friend… Her mentor… Did she mean nothing to her?

“Athena!” she pleaded. “I’m sorry, please…”

The owl turned its head backwards and narrowed its eyes. Though the eyes were a pupiless white, that face could only mean one thing. 

Failure. 

Odysseus’ fear hardened as that anger returned. How dare she? Athena had led her to war, to her calling, to lead her people in wisdom… She had sacrificed so much for the goddess and the one time she didn’t follow through… 

First Polites and now Athena?

Had she ever cared to begin with? Or was all the affection just praise for a warrior she was shaping to blindly follow her will, to never question. To be a monster to do her dirty work. 

Odysseus gripped her sword as Athena took flight. “Why should I be surprised?” she laughed into the air. Her thoughts were erratic. Athena didn’t turn back. Just flew up and up and away. 

Well, she wouldn’t get the last word. She may be immortal, but if she really felt that way, that she had wasted her time on teaching and helping Odysseus, then the feelings were mutual. Odysseus had erected a temple, had people praise Athena as the patron goddess of their king, had sacrificed so much for her. Had considered her friend…

She flung the sword into the air, her wrath blinding her fears. “You were my friend!” she screamed. “I thought you were different from the other gods! I knew you wanted me to be your warrior of the mind, but I thought you cared! I just lost my best friend, and all you care about is that I didn’t follow you blindly?!”

As her tears cleared, she saw Athena seething on the ground, the sword piercing her wing. She transformed back to her humanoid form in a flash and held her spear to Odysseus’ neck, hand fisted in Odysseus’ robes. 

“Careful, mortal,” she spat. “Or you may lose my favor for good.”

If Odysseus was really going to die, at least she would speak her mind. She was a warrior of the mind was she not? “Unlike you, whenever someone dies, I still deal with the strain, all the guilt. I can't wash the blood off my hands. Do you think I can forget my friends who died? The mothers and children I killed in Troy? Do you think it's something I can just brush aside? Is it worth your favor if I can never sleep at night?”

Athena’s power intensified, pulling Odysseus from her physical body and into the familiar mindscape. Odysseus landed with a thud and pushed herself away from the goddess, her vision spinning as she tried to focus on the stars around her. “I thought you loved me,” she whispered, maybe to herself, maybe to Athena. “I thought you cared.”

Athena kept her back turned to her. “I was never looking for a friend. I was looking for a warrior. I thought you could be her, my general. Something above the rest of you senseless Greeks. But you are still that lost little girl who didn’t want a teacher. You wanted a friend, and I wasted my efforts on you.”

Odysseus stood again and composed herself with a deep exhale. “Then have your damn goodbye. At least I don’t abandon those who follow me.”

Athena jerked her head toward her, anger and attention focussed back on her. “And what is that supposed to mean?” she drawled.

“I mean with your record, I should have been wiser. I should have rejected your offer from the start. After all, as the legends say, your priestess who was violated by the Lord of the Seas loved you with all her heart, and you still abandoned her when her vows were broken. Even though it wasn’t by her choice.”

Athena’s face turned away, and her features dropped. Odysseus almost saw hurt on the goddess’ face, but she felt no remorse. No regret. 

Isn’t that what you wanted? 

“You gods are all alike. As soon as one of us are no longer your perfect warrior or follower, you rid yourselves of us. You say you’re above the ‘mindless Greeks,’ but I’ve seen that same behavior in men who claimed girls from Troy. They’d assure them they loved them, that they would care for them, but as soon as they were done playing with them, they killed them. They were pigs.” She grabbed the knife in her belt and stepped toward the hazy barrier of the mindscape.

“At least I know what I’m fighting for. At least I don’t have to spend my life searching for companions like you. You’re alone,” she concluded, stabbing the barrier. The stars flickered in protest, but Athena’s power began to dwindle on her mind. Soon, they were back in the forest. 

Athena stood before her, devoid of her anger but also any affection. Odysseus retrieved her fallen sword and sheathed it. She waited for Athena to say something— anything— for a few tense moments. The longing turned to disgust as the moments ticked by, and Odysseus walked back toward the sight of the campfires on the shore. 

“Hear me, Odysseus of Ithaca. One day you will realize that you will have to sacrifice everything to be a warrior and leader. But when that day comes, I will be far from you, and you’ll realize you’ve thrown everything away.

“This is my goodbye.”

Odysseus ignored the pain rekindling in her heart as she heard the flutter of wings and then the silence of night.