Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1- Cast Away

So many years… so many sunrises and yet it would never cease for her. 

Life was supposed to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. A journey.

Not for Calypso. Not for a daughter of a Titan who was bound to the often described primeval island of Ogygia. Dawn’s early light peered with a gentle serenity into the goddess Calypso’s cave. As it always had, and as it always would. Feeling the pleasant warmth was a welcome invitation to partake in the day as opposed to trying to sleep off an immortal existence of isolation away. On days and nights when it rained, Calypso would take the opportunity to doze off much longer and allow the pitter patter of the raindrops outside echoing within the cavern to serve as a lullaby to slumber. With vicious storms on the other hand, Calypso had to respond to the volatile elements demands (Which also aggravated her into imagining it was Zeus’s doing) to take action regardless of her mood. So the feeling of sunlight was as much as she could expect and appreciate as she rose from her bed, one fashioned for her as a favor from the Olympians and with a graceful canopy of airy fabric hanging around from the cavern ceiling. After rubbing her eyes in a moderately dreary stupor, she distinctly recalled for the umpteenth time the time she had been made to endure this isolation.

“You forsake the will of the rightful rulers of the world, standing against us! Condoning the devouring of our kin by your leader Cronus and believing yourselves unstoppable! For one as young and gorgeous as you to be among them and fight so savagely like them is a grave pity. You know no better as a daughter of a Titan but you do possess considerable gifts that stand to not go to waste. I see you fit for a place to call your own and that will be your eternal home to share your voice to all who listen. It’ll be known as the Island of Ogygia and for you, Calypso I see no better outcome for you.”  Zeus had just stripped her father away from her to perform an accursed duty as he spoke with the diction of an arrogant stranger who didn’t care for her.

Her stance had been forced to kneel with Poseidon and Demeters weapons drawn to her neck, poised to silence her should her last act of defiance be to try to bewitch their brother with her ‘considerable’ (Her father had called it cherished and miraculous) gift. She had been so young then as opposed to the hundreds of years she’d lived through to get to the present, and had honestly been too scared and distraught to behave as the Calypso of now may have done. Tears had doused her face and dress from the sorrow of already being parted from her father for far too long so she had taken it all in with a lack of resistance. In a way she envied how Mortals were known for resisting regardless of the impossible odds. Mortals could rebel against the gods as they had destiny on their side and believed in themselves living full lives. Gods trying to rebel against another god would lose the protections of any ‘destiny’ they may have had in their lives once another one had taken its place. Zeus and the now enduring Olympians had the one distinct advantage that their “destiny” was prophesied to end in their victory. Calypso had fought as hard as she could with her voice, a powerful magical aria that charmed and weakened the wills of those listening to it to follow her will, but she feared her inexperience in warfare damned her father. Damned herself too penultimately as she first lost him forever and then she lost her future to this island paradise.

Yet paradise it truly was. She could see it in the glorious structures of the mountains and trees, smell it in the rich dances of fruits and flowers, feel the comforting blanket of sand beneath her toes, hold things that looked and seemed rare and like they were her own treasures.

Hear her gift at her own whims.

And her gift… her voice had so much more to it as it turns out.

She'd learned in her earliest of days that her voice could stir life on Ogygia with every note she emitted from her larynx. The flightful and spritely birds like owls and the formidable falcons would stay and listen to her with docile temperament and keep her company just a bit longer. The very plantlife and blossoms would flourish and grow sooner without compromising the bounty. They could even grow with rapid vitality into wonderous sizes to control like extensions of herself (Provided as the daughter of a nymph, nature had always been tied to her). Her voice could of course bewitch beings like it had done long before her imprisonment, but with no one to stumble upon Ogygia yet, this attribute went woefully unused these days aside from being able to lure fish over to her island so that she may catch them for meat. Calypso used to joke to herself (Back when she felt fine talking to herself) that the first person that’d come to her paradise would be made into her most loyal and devoted servant after singing to them. She no longer joked about it having been alone for so long. So much of her wanted someone entirely devoted to her though she didn’t think ‘servant’ sounded very polite. It sounded parallel to a description like her immortal wardens that jailed her here would use. She wanted someone that she could love and care about that would do the same for her.

Calypso pushed aside the recollection of the tragedy that was being sent to Ogygia and thought on what sort of activities she should do today to fill her schedule.. The schedule that always remained the same. 

Early morning, forenoon, mid-day, late afternoon, and then night. 

All possible activities would be quite contentious perhaps if she didn’t live on a primeval island yet Calypso had grown and harnessed her skill in whatever mundane domain she could. Using her loom with a golden shuttle to weave her own garments was her most common activity, followed by composing and coming up with her own songs. She’d also become quite the grower, using the seeds of birds that had pollinated the island over time to grow exotic and unique crops that she’d like to imagine Demeter kept secret from mortalkind. Who needed the powers of the harvest when your own voice could nurture and grow these mysterious new meals? A curved, sweet yellow fruit that hung on trees being her particular favorite of note though she’d learned to peel off the skin first for a more delectable experience. At night she would chart the very constellations held in the celestial sphere her father was now fated to hold aloft. It felt like her way of still speaking and reaching out to him regardless of the boundless distance between them. She kept every chart neatly wrapped in a bundle with rope and she had come up with her own interpretations of the design of the constellations. She had conjured riveting images like ‘Heartsong’ and ‘Cupbearer’ and ‘Calypso Herself’ within the stars that were jovial to her. She could cook using the fire at her cavern hearth, had some experience with nursing and taking care of herself whenever she was cut or bruised, and had the stamina to climb up trees and jog around the island for a noteworthy duration. She also deeply enjoyed singing and dancing to this very day, able to charm herself every time with a self-directed show.

And share her voice to all who listen.

Loathing having to admit it, but she always knew the Gods still watched and glanced at her from time to time. How could they not when she sang with a harmonious majesty utterly befitting her divine nature that only they alone knew? How could they not when your very island’s skyline is ruled by the most lecherous and loathsome god king and your surrounding sea is ruled by his ruthless and temperamental brother? The very elements were an unconscious surveillance that had always brought her great discomfort. Though it had been rather recent since she felt the sea having any intent with her, as there had been less instances of the tides lapping impatiently at Ogygia’s shores and less storms. Zeus though? He was always the one she could tell when he was witnessing her as she could feel him staring down at her from a vantage point that only her father truly deserved. As for any other gods, Calypso wasn’t sure. The sun was ruled by Helios but he often kept to himself on his sacred isle with divine cattle or his own responsibilities and she hadn’t seen or heard from him in ages. She also didn’t delight in the possibility of other unknown or new deities spying on her, whether as an animal familiar or some other natural force so she kept herself from diving into the waters of paranoia. It was always easier not to think about the what-could-have-beens.

So these days, she sang for herself, for her father, for her long since disappeared mother Pleione, her long since absent siblings and relatives, for Ogygia, and for anyone who was on her island. She rarely talked aloud these days, only sang. What use was there for talking when no voice had responded to her with words and inflections like only a mortal or immortal could? On her first days in Ogygia she had talked to herself to get comfortable with the idea of accommodating herself to this new, unfamiliar world. It seemed like a way to at least feel noticed by someone who cared if that person who cared was herself. Over the years she had come to the conclusion talking to herself just served to remind her of what her hideous predicament on paradise was. Not having anyone to share it with. Always alone. A lost goddess growing up all on her own yet not feeling grown up. The numbness she had developed over this truth was the true dampener on her smiles. It was easy to be bitter and furious and some days she found herself consumed by exhausted rage and sad tears.

Tears that her father would’ve wiped away if he were there with her. Tears that shouldn’t be felt by someone only hoping to have a good life. Tears just as heavy as the ones she had cried at the Titanomachy’s conclusion when she last saw her father’s noble face.

Calypso ate one of several usual breakfasts (Which she had eaten more than enough times that she simply couldn’t enjoy it as much anymore), got herself primped and preened in the reflections of the fountain waters (It felt more attuned to her than using a mirror), and stepped outside her cave to take her usual trek around the island. Her naturally flowing stride drew the eye of the many exotic and far-traveled birds who perched on the trees on the isle and eagerly awaited her first notes to herald another day in paradise beginning. She thought carefully about whom to sing to today as she eyed and appreciated the almost mystical pattern of shadows of the sunlight through the leaves of the trees along the earth. As her feet gracefully crossed through the groves around the island, they made satisfying crunches on fallen leaves and branches. These small sounds became the opening notes as she began to sing to her desired audience.

“Years upon years where my song echoes through tears.” She pushed through some bushes excitedly and stepped out onto the main shoreline of Ogygia.

“Reflections of your gaze, permanently placed,”

“Upon my heart.” Calypso placed a poised hand deeply onto her heart as she saw the same sight she had always seen. A vast plainly visible yet altogether invisible sea that led to nowhere she could go.

“Eternal, ethereal, ephemeral.” How could a sea feel so much like the lock of a door with a missing key?

“Your encouraging gaze, carries me through these days”

“To play your part.” She eyed the sky as she imagined with a small smile that her father would have happily wanted her to have grandchildren. It didn’t matter how many times she had held onto this thought living here, it was still a cherished thought.

“The mythos gives way… the wills of the god may…”

“One day finally bring a goddess to fall…” * She then frowned as she knew that by looking up to the sky, she was also acknowledging the Olympians. Acknowledging Zeus. Only during the night was she sure that she was not directly addressing or attracting his attention by looking up to the heavens.

“But I am Calypso! Undeniable!! I am legendary and immortal!” Turning away from her cage and from the tormenting sky, she instead addressed herself as the goddess she was.

“A voice of which hearers rejoice and praise my name.” She held her arms out and spun around in an elegant pirouette.

“I am Calypso! Irreplaceable!! Destined to be redeemed!”

“From the evils of gods and their corrupted game.” She started running along the island’s beach at a pace quite similar to that of a noble horse.

“A hundred years of shrouding but the island knows, the island knows…”

“That the song in your heart always comes and goes!!” Her run would take her around the whole island as she always kept an eye out on the small chance that she would ultimately (desperately) see something or someone new. She would do this every cycle of the day. Early morning, forenoon, mid-day, late afternoon, and night. Soon it would be forenoon by the time her song continued.

“A day became a week, formed into months, it’s bleak” She was nourishing her crops as nearby birds had started serenading with her, shrill crying from a seagull being rather charming in her ears. She moved with subtle, practice gestures that were both elegant and not at all bringing unease to those around her.

“Without you dad…” Her smile since the song started turning into a struggle to maintain joy. It was a common feeling whenever she sang these days.

“Celestial attunement, a task imprudent” Now she was climbing up trees to collect fruit with the deftness of an Amazonian warrior.

“Why can’t we fault the gods for being bad?!” She gripped a fruit so tightly that it burst and she drank the juices down her throat as if she imagined drinking the ichor of the ones who condemned her. Though she didn’t really have the heart to do anything so barbaric, she certainly wished she had the power to free her father and then make the gods bow before her if only for one day.

“I spend all my yearning in song… for however long…” She was now drawing with a stick upon the sand a simplistic drawing of herself with a partner. At this point it mattered not if it was a woman or a man, it just would be a miracle of the highest power to feel foreign fingertips.

“Just for my life to finally begin …” As her eyes began to water, Calypso wiped them away with a defiant arm rub.

“For I am Calypso! Teller of tales!! Why should my saga end here?!” Calypso stood at the highest cliff, presenting herself as the beautiful voice that she was and twirling and kicking about with drama. She truly believed that was her greatest power at this point and it was really the only thing she could manifest as a way to keep going. If someone happened to hear her, even if just for a minute, they could find an incentive to come to Ogygia. They’d come to love and admire what she brought to their lives and the paradise that they were in.

“I am Calypso, carrying onward, one day enshrined within your stars!!” Calypso’s powerful voice made the birds take flight, rising into the sky as if beckoned to battle.

“I am Calypso… I am Calypso… I am Calypso…” Calypso felt confident and renewed at first by this reaction. Then she felt some negativity when it was clear the birds started swirling over the waters to which she could not go towards that they were still not truly aligned with her. They would not enrich her life meaningfully with their passive routine as animals. She needed the complexities of emotions and interactions and just knowing she was thought off. The only one who she knew would think of her to their dying breath were her family members and they had long remained forcibly absent from her life and she hated it. She hated how each day she couldn’t just ignore her situation and was forced to bear this tormented isolation because of the natural demonstration of love that was standing by her family.

“A hundred years of shrouding and the island knows… the island knows…” Calypso fell to her knees and sighed in exasperation and defeat. Then it was mid-day when she paced about in the jungle with upset, tired strides with no particular direction.

"I'm weary and dreary, seeing myself as a ghost!”

“Can it really be paradise with only a host?” She clutched her arms, looking down, shaking her head wildly, and fighting the urge to cry for the hundred thousandth time. At this point it was hard for anyone who’d have heard her to distinguish whether or not she was singing or venting. Based on the wild shaking of the trees nearby, compelled to share in her rage, it was more likely the latter.

“I wish there was a presence, breaking through the silence,”

“For once, I wish there was someone who’d say ' I love you'!!” She reached out to the shimmering waters visible through the jungle foliage in a desperate, prying reaching grasp for someone. But there was no hope for that was there? She imagined there was hope, that there was a chance even after 100 years of anticipation and grief. All she could find comfort in really was the idea of her father still watching over her and maybe taking care of her in some fashion.

“Only the gods know… only the gods know…” She whimpered quietly, tearing up to herself as a few leaves from the trees fell as if they too wept for her. She didn’t bother wiping her tears this time as she just frowned and for a moment acknowledged that her cherished chords more frequently than ever turned into anguished arias. Then it was the late afternoon before she knew it as she sat down on the shores of Ogygia to eat her one of several usual late lunches.

“I am Calypso. Suffering solo. A song can only get you what’s present.” She sang softly, sounding oddly content in spite of crying earlier. She had considered it a defense mechanism from really going off the deep end that if she could find some kind of peace from letting out her emotions, it meant she was still living her life. Plus she was in paradise. A gorgeous island. How could she take it for granted even if she was the only goddess on it? That… ‘felt right’.

“Long ago I’ve accepted my fate.”

“I am Calypso, knowing whom it is I resent” Calypso wrapped her arms around her knees. She was more than ready to conclude this song… and start thinking of a new song. Maybe one that wasn’t about her this time around. Yet she knew her father adored hearing songs about his daughter no matter how sad and pathetic they were.

“Waiting and waiting will not corrupt my heart with hate.”

“No matter if I’m shrouded… beyond the island they’ll know… past the island they’ll know..” She looked again at the sky when suddenly she saw it. Something that had not been witnessed by her in a hundred years. Something that was startling and truly alarming but a vision perhaps.

“They’ll know me as Calypso!” Finishing the song without singing but rather as a sudden statement of shock, Calypso expressed her surprise at the sight and scampered to her feet.

Far off where the sunset traced its endless imagination for those below, she could see it. Intensely dark clouds that rumbled with the power they carried within unnaturally moving at an ominous pace towards some unknown destination. She could even vaguely make out some other shape within the clouds, something that was like a living thing (From what she could discern it had wings like a great bird) but she recognized right away as someone far greater than any mortal being on the planet.

 ZEUS. 

The loathsome god king was up to something or more presumably after someone. Although she was confused as to what that might have been, she did have a faint idea as to the intention here from this sight. Zeus himself had told her as he desposited her on Ogygia that he traditionally liked to appear before people he was interested in (An unenviable position she had assumed), intervened to dole out punishment of his own justice (Yet never having to answer to his own injustices), or in disguise as a different being. Based on the severity of the hue of the clouds, it may have been that he was on a journey to deliver some kind of punishment. With how he had dealt so many blows to her fellow Titans in the Titanomachy it was likely going to be severe for an immortal. For any mortals? A cataclysmic way to go. Yet it oddly brought Calypso some strange feeling of joy. This was her first time in ages that something new and different could be seen from her island. That something was happening nearby her immediate and only world available to her. Even if it came from her most despised deity.

“A sign…” She muttered to herself as she gave a fond look out to the horizon. It had to be. The sightings of anything fantastical were surely an omen of something to come. Something that could help her life begin and surely reassure her that this was not to be an eternal suffering until the time all things in existence ceased. She really had to hope for that this time though because some days she just wished she could ask whoever had the domain of rest amongst the gods to put her into eternal sleep.

That night she was at the cliffside again, seeing the constellations in the sky with her charts and a writing utensil handy. It was her time to recount her stories to her dearest father Atlas and see if any new and magical sights in the stars he brandished had appeared. Most nights on the island were chilly from the winds of the sea so she would brandish herself with an especially warm blanket, wrapped around her like a tender embrace, and hold down her charts with stones so they wouldn’t be blown away. It was her daily nighttime ritual and she valued it heavily. She valued the thoughts that came at this magic hour to her and the reminiscing of the life she had before being captured here.

Atlas was the God of Strength and Endurance and it reflected in both his instincts for overcoming the odds and working with what was provided. He’d help to craft much of the Titans finest architecture and worked the land as a provider. He was an amorous and somewhat flirtatious god, siring a number of children before Calypso herself had been born but she had seen how he gave his children hope, unconditional love and support. He had taught Calypso that she was a powerful goddess in her own right, praising the way her voice could even overcome the strength of will of powerful beings. 

Cherished and miraculous he haid said of her gift. Two words that she knew were so personal and so filled with love that she dreamed of being able to use them towards someone herself.

He was her guardian and he also didn’t shy away from letting her be involved in the sometimes complicated dynamics of the Titans. It was why she had volunteered to fight alongside him in the Titanomachy, believing she had the spirit to help them win. He had been pleasantly surprised with her conviction and gladly welcomed her aid though told her firmly he'd like her to avoid the frontlines as much as possible. She had agreed. Her mother Pleione was a nymph of the water and the protectress of sailing (A job Calypso knew she had been the best at over the likes of Poseidon). She was lovely and fair, and always praised Calypso on the things she would learn and practice, help her when she felt lonely or neglected, and made her feel happy. She told Calypso that she was so proud of her being both nymph and goddess, and that she was set to have a special place in the world. One that only someone as amazing and gifted as her could fill.

A Domain.

That Domain, Calypso deduced sadly, had not been imagined to be a singular island as it was now by either of her parents.

When the Titanomachy was underway, Atlas’s powerful mind and body was entrusted to be Cronus’s second in command. Calypso had never been entirely secure with Cronus’s leadership among the Titans as he scared her. He was a deity that had repeated the history of his own father Uranus, succumbing to the paranoia of a prophecy. He was volatile, cold, and had never seemed compelled to involve himself with the lives of his brothers and sisters. In fact, it was he who had arrogantly taken the leadership of the Titans and threatened the others into never seeking to take his place. As the Olympians would proudly proclaim and boast before the defeated Titans following the war’s conclusion, Cronus’s own actions of devouring the children he had sired drove his wife Rhea into giving the youngest Zeus the life and opportunity to fulfill this prophecy he had quaked in terror of. Such a story to an outsider would make Zeus seem sympathetic, a noble hero that had avenged and freed his children and ended tyranny. An overcomer. 

Not at all like whom Calypso saw as an enemy during the battles. Zeus had ravaged Atlas with lightning bolts, cackling as she had to hear her father scream in a newfound agony and her last sight of him was of him scarred with vicious streaks of gold emblazoned on his skin and burns. Of Zeus brazenly gripping her father’s jaw and sending him to the ground with a toss as the Thunderbringer taunted his great win over him. Calypso's mother had not fought. She was not fit for the conflict and instead tried to look out for the Titans not partaking in battle away from the battlefield and perhaps that was why as far as Calypso knew, she was still around.. But had disappeared from her life. Zeus even specifically sent Atlas off to his punishment before addressing Calypso and telling her she was to be exiled to Ogygia. The last thing her beloved father had said to her was,

“I’m not sorry for loving you, Calypso. My daughter. You have a genuine gift. You also have my strength and you won’t see a sorrowful end if you use it as our family always has!”

So Calypso was not sorry for the love she had for him either. She was not ashamed in the slightest. As much as the Olympians probably desired her to hold bitterness towards him, having to abandon her with sick glee, all she was sorry about was not being able to fight well enough to help the Titans win and keep her from this endless ending she saw herself in now. In this moment she miraculously had something new to finally share with Atlas, gazing up at the sky and speaking to him with a slightly happier tone than every other night over the most recent years. Happy that her father could finally find comfort in knowing things were happening in her life again.

“Zeus is up to something father, but it’s close by! I think he must be punishing someone who’s committed a blasphemy against the Gods or done something to anger them. It could mean then that something new will happen soon. Maybe Zeus will come to see me and ask if I noticed anything. Maybe there’ll be a new constellation as soon as he is finished with his actions…” Though part of her wasn’t sure of that since there was no new constellation tonight and deities were always known for turning individuals into stars to bring new life into the world and immortalize honorable beings. “Or maybe… Maybe it could be something I would never expect to happen.”

Calypso had to admit deep down inside this all sounded so foolish of her to put any sort of faith or hope in Zeus of all people. The insidious, arrogant, cruel deity that he was. Someone who dehumanized all Titans and not just the belligerent one who had consumed his siblings. But it was all she really could ever hope to have at this point. Even the cruel idea of waiting one more year with nothing new and only occasionally knowing she was being watched by a god was too much for her to bear. Her family's strength was dwindling inside of her but now she felt a renewal of it. All she could really do was keep on waiting. Hopefully this teased something new would come as soon as tomorrow.

Hopefully it’d be a person.

Ok maybe a talking animal would be fine too. Though it seemed much too childish for her now. Calypso on her first days on Ogygia had imagined her singing could make animals talk or that any birds who’d fly onto her island paradise could speak with her but they couldn’t. The pain of not having a person or thing to talk to certainly was more welcome than attracting a creature like a Harpy to her island with her voice at least. One time she had attracted a Siren and that had led to a very uncomfortable encounter she’d rather keep to herself.

Once Calypso finished proofreading her understanding of the cosmos, she headed back to her cavern and ate one of several usual late night desserts. She took her time to unwind, catching up on some recreational activities and washing up in a bath before finally settling in her bed (resting place) again. It had been so uncomfortable the first month sleeping in Ogygia as a newly appointed prisoner of paradise. The unforgiving darkness, the quietness of her cavern and how hollow it seemed, the concerns of not knowing if someone would just crawl into her room to do unspeakable things, and not having anyone else to turn to for security. She imagined it was what sleeping in the Underworld was like for the restless, unfortunate souls lost too soon. Atlas and Pleione always had the patience for her when she was extremely young to let her sleep in their shared bed for a night where she felt lonely or scared and reassure her. They’d even encouraged her to sing along to nightly tales of legends that Calypso liked to imagine made the Olympians legends that they created look soulless. It all helped to give Calypso tremendous self esteem in herself that she never shied away from using her gifts. It was the isolation and loss of any sort of love these days that had done the most damage to her over time. It also felt like she would never see for herself if this meant she could carry herself with her father’s strength and her mother’s purity as a grown deity.

Or if she even retained them at all.

“Good night Ogygia.” She said with a yawn and a sad gleam in her eyes. “May something miraculous happen soon…” She whispered that second statement to herself, almost afraid of tempting fate for the worse if some deity wanted to play a cruel trick on her. Just another day had passed in paradise. The same day that had been going on for a hundred years for the goddess Calypso.

At some point in the early hours of dawn of the following day, even from before when Calypso herself would stir, someone came. Someone living out their own saga. Someone who was suffering from their own saga.

A mortal washed ashore on Ogygia. And her story would finally begin the moment her eyes awoke.

To Be Continued…

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 Know What I’ve Gone Through

With Helios’s beloved sun in the sky again, Calypso woke up with a small headache. Closing her eyes and rubbing her head, she groaned in small frustration as she knew she brought it upon herself thinking about the sighting of Zeus’s storm yesterday too heavily. She’d had a dreamless dream as she usually had which both helped at tempering her anticipation but also made it much more likely she hadn’t witnessed a sign. Whether or not it actually meant anything special was to happen today she’d have to discover for herself. There was a joy in that but also a dread in that. The same routine could continue endlessly as it always did or finally she’d receive a new experience. A new encounter. Newness.

Early morning, forenoon, mid-Day, late afternoon, night.

Nothing to lose, all to gain. After taking a homemade remedy from the different flora around the island to take her headache away, she stepped outward into Ogygia without a song to sing. She would sing only once she was sure it was a song of unbridled joy or a grim lament of the heaviest caliber. On the way she grabbed one of the sweet yellow curved fruits to eat, promptly dropping the peel unceremoniously in the bushes somewhere. The immediate shoreline she could see showed nothing was there nor anyone. Except a few shells that had washed ashore. Shells were quite lovely and Calypso did have a collection of some of her favorites but it wasn’t anything new. She wasn’t about to let this discourage her. Her island’s beach was long so as long as she hadn’t encircled it, she could still have a discovery to make. The real question was at what pace should she traverse around the island? Slowly to let herself be surprised, or quickly just to find a sign of anything new. Or what if it wasn’t on the beach at all but on the cliffside or in the forest somewhere?

… No. She was a water nymph’s daughter. What she valued most would be closest to water. She was sure of it.

Waiting…

Waiting…

Waiting…?

“Huh?” Calypso had been walking nearly three-fourths of the island, her slow walk turning into more of a brisk scurrying before she finally did see something.

A shape.

Something solid and possibly living. Resting on the edge of where her eyes could see along the scope of the shore. Someone or something had washed up on her isle!

“Past the winds and past the rain, a godsend docked to end my pain.” She sang slowly and happily. Reserving her greatest joy and exhilaration for whoever she was about to meet, she slowed her pace. She walked with the same poise and respect one might approaching the temple of a mighty god or goddess.

“Feels too real, feels too fast. I can only wonder what lies past where my eyes can see…”

“Here I go now. Here I go now. May my feet not fail me now!” Somewhat childishly. She immediately went back on her idea of approaching slowly and quicked herself as the shape she could see became less further away from her vision.

“Here I go now. Here I go now. I’m a giant wave now!”

“I wouldn’t take no then and I won’t submit here, the person of my dreams to cleanse my fear! His glory is on the rise, I see him now! Love in paradise!” She could now make it out that it was a masculine figure. A mortal! Or immortal! Someone muscular, powerful-looking, and for her eyes only. Her heart beat faster (And not just from her exercising) as she couldn’t wait to decipher the finer details. To let him know that she was there for him. Always.

“Here I go now. Here I go now. A tale of us will begins now. Here I go now. Here I go now. He’s the nearest love I’ve got now. I won’t let it die, I’ll let it bloom. He’ll be devoted to me as my groom. And…” Calypso had started whispering to herself and now had begun walking again as she finally could discern more of this mysterious man upon the sandy beach.

There was something off.

“And he seems…” Her eyes widened when she took note of the bandages, dry-stained with red on a spot where it seemed he had been injured on the right side of his torso. It appeared to be a noticeable amount of blood and looked recent.

This someone was off.

“... Is he alive?” She stopped singing when she saw that it appeared he had been burned. Burned on both of his upper arms arms along the  where it burned through the sleeves of his garbs and singed the fabric. The burns were small but significant, as if they were scalded. It’d leave scars for certain.The most curious quality of these burns was the strange yellow tint that seemed contrary to a burn’s normal smoky color.

Like a lightning strike.

Like the lingering yellow wound on her father’s chest after the Titan’s defeat from being struck down by Zeus’s accursed lightning bolt.

“That cur…” Quietly, with great rage and also great pain, Calypso hissed this insult to herself. She didn’t know if the Godking was watching. It was at this moment she finally took into note the weather out of concern for this possibility, having been so caught up in her search since she woke up that the world around her passed her mind. The day was uncommonly overcast and cloudy as opposed to the usual sunny and clear skies she was graced with. Zeus certainly could be hiding among the blankets of grey but Calypso also knew he’d probably have addressed her specifically about this washed up castaway. Made himself appear before her in his traditionally theatrical (And terrifying) fashion. Perhaps to say something snide or possessively claim this castaway as his own since HE delegated Calypso to this island. Yet he hadn’t.

Which could only mean one thing.

This was a dead mortal on her isle or a living mortal unconsciously lying before her now in this moment. That this was who Zeus must’ve come after yesterday and dealt his divine punishment with this unknown body perhaps the only remaining proof of the event. An indirect lightning bolt must’ve been what left those burns and given the sheer explosions matched by the deafening thunder of Zeus’s divine weapon, he had not been the main target.

Zeus only ever cared to deal with immortals with seriousness and respect (At least if it was something that would concern himself and his immediate Olympians). Vicious seriousness and respect at that if the Titanomachy was any indication. Mortals were but coral within his vast ocean of the domain of the sky and of ruling over all gods. So it stood to reason that this confirmed the nature of this man surely. There were other options that Calypso wasn’t really confident in thinking about but what she was least confident and most hurt by was the possibility this man was dead.

She could’ve held hope for this long for nothing but a cruel twist. That would be too much to take.

“Atlas my dearest father, god of Strength and Endurance. Please I beg of you in my time of greatest needs. Give this man the blessings you bestowed upon me as your daughter regardless of his nature, his history, his deeds. I just need someone… anyone at all. More than ever.” Calypso prayed to the only deity she would ever pray to with such adoration, hands clasped and head bowed. She didn’t want to cry yet. Giving Zeus any satisfaction would just be submitting entirely to his victory so long ago which she never wanted nor ever would. Even if she gave up on living, it would be because of herself and not because of him. She walked over, crouched down, and put an ear to his chest.

It felt cold and wet from the seawater but the chest muscle was astonishingly firm and elegant. Like he was a warrior at heart. And… she could hear a heartbeat.

She mouthed ‘thank you father’ to the heavens, held her heart as she stirred about with comfort and sighed blissfully. Now she could truly see this mortal’s form for who he was knowing he’d be with her.

He had richly dark brown hair, like that of a revered bear, that seemed to have become unkempt with time with the way it was sprawled about on the sand. Yet it looked so welcoming to grasp. His muscles extended to his arms and his legs, especially his thighs which looked powerful enough to outmatch any wrestler’s legholds. He was barefoot, likely having lost his shoes in the aftermath of whatever came of his and Zeus’s encounter. His outfit was a chiton that was understandably damp and had taken a bit of wear from the elements and indirect impact of lightning.

He also had on him a sword holster strapped around him over his right shoulder. A sword’s hilt showed that he very much hadn’t lost it when he washed up on her isle. She for a moment thought about disarming it from him but she felt that would make a bad first impression. If he held it on his being all this time and saw that it had been taken, what if he assumed she had done it with ill intent once he awoke? She needed to respect his privacy and let him keep his belongings to prove she was trustworthy.

Which certainly explained his heavenly physique though also implied a lot about the man. A lot of potentially dangerous qualities about to whom felt that sharp edge and how many lives it may or may not have claimed. Calypso was a goddess through and through so she wasn’t afraid of the option that he’d try to strike her down. That’d be outrageous of him to try when she was going to welcome him with open arms.. Yet when combined with that bandaged wound… had he been stabbed himself? Zeus didn’t partake in swordsmanship, preferring to use his lightning bolts or shapeshift to catch an opponent off-guard in battle. So he had to have faced someone else that dealt that kind of blow to him. Furthermore if he was a warrior, was he sailing from home or towards home? Was he good or was he evil under the moral alignment? It made Calypso become impatient to wake him up and finally hear from him though at the same time she was feeling a bit of worry for him.

Dealing with Zeus in any shape or form was bound to break even the strongest of hearts and minds in some way. For him to have survived even a small part of Zeus’s lightning strike was a miracle in itself. He was already scarred physically but he could very well be scarred mentally. She would have to find out exactly what this man was like before she began her plan 100 years in the making. So she waited patiently for him to rise with a gracious smile.

Grateful that 100 years of sleeping all alone to herself would end either way with this man’s presence.

…

If you had asked, say, 12 years ago, about how Odysseus slept, the King of Ithaca would say he slept wonderfully. He would sleep next to his wife. Penelope always was a source of relief, affection, warmth, and light even if he was dealing with heavy responsibilities as king of Ithaca. In the wedding bed he had built for them from the olive tree from their first meeting. Even when he would find himself sleeping in the barracks with the other soldiers who had gone to fight in Troy, he was still able to sleep soundly alongside his brothers in arms. If you had asked Odysseus the same question 10 years ago, he’d say that it was much more difficult. He had taken the life of a newborn who had the most limited grasp of life and all of its innocence. All because Zeus had foreseen a prophecy of this infant bringing an end to his life and home once he identified Odysseus as the one who killed his family (In hindsight on some nights of critical thinking, he wondered if this fate would’ve come when he was already old and ready to pass on to the Underworld). He couldn’t bear losing Penelope or Telemachus if he could protect them from a future threat so he had made his decision and lived with it in pained secrecy. That and the bloodshed of Troy caused him nights of struggling rest and nightmares that were dripping with blood, shocked gasps, and people looking at him with audacity for murdering a baby. If anyone present and breathing had thought to ask him now how he slept? He would’ve had not even the stamina or strength to bother responding to them. All he heard was screams and menacing lyrics and vicious laughter and crushing sounds of jaw snapping or weapons contacting in his dreams. All he saw was gods, monsters, long-gone faces of good friends, and the spirit of his mother long-gone much to his deep regret.

The worst dreams were scenarios where Penelope and Telemachus behaved either numb to how monstrous he had become as he ruled or spent time with them as he was drenched in blood, or his family doing everything in their power to stay away from him with frantic fear. The most painful sight of all these nightmares was of them seeing him and how much he had changed for the worst with looks that implied he was now a stranger to them.

‘It’s No Longer You.’

Yet ironically he had gotten rest after what was essentially being knocked out twice in what must’ve surely been a few days (He’d dread imagining the events were any longer than that)… The first time by his brothers-in-arms and the second time by a devastating lightning crash destroying the last piece of his fleet. The last sign of him being a Captain of a grand 600 man army that had won the battle of Troy ended so easily. Ending his existence as Captain in fact. 

Now he was just Odysseus. So by the time he started coming to notice his surroundings, he would not realize that someone was perched over him with what could be perceived as an affectionate posture. Like his dog Argos. His eyes focused finally, not daring to hope it was Argos. Or Telemachus. Or Penelope.

But as he expected, he wasn’t at Ithaca. Not if this strange, exotically beautiful, and sun-kissed young woman’s attentive glance and all too cheerful smile was any indication. He’d seen someone like her before. Several times in fact.

“Morning Sleepyhead. You’ve been resting for a while. I swore that you were dead, when you washed on my isle.” Calypso thought singing to him was the best way to introduce herself. That and she did have the control over her gift to be able to sing normally without needing to tap into more of her divine power as she did so. Little did she know that to the man she was finally poised to grace with her presence and become an inseparable part of his life, he was processing her voice and intentions vastly differently.

‘Since we left home, we've faced a variety of foes from a wide range of places

Gods, monsters, you know the roster

Hostile creatures that we could resist

But this was a hell of a twist

'Cause we are weak to a power like this’ The late voice of Eurylochus, now associated with a man who had been ready to die, who had betrayed him more times he thought was possible, and had brought death upon the brothers he had trusted with disrespecting a god’s territory.

‘What was it?’ What Odysseus had said at the time, keeping down the innermost moral agony of being down to forty-three men, being told to remember the darkest moment in his life by the god who had enacted it, and instead worrying about what befell the rest of the scouts (There had at least been men then).

A Woman.

Odysseus in the present’s eyes widened slightly and he broke out in a cold sweat. Everything about this melodious maiden implied some kind of new, beautiful, dangerous being on his journey. Everything about her seemed like a cordial welcome but he had learned to never trust at face value the intentions of such a greeting. If she hadn’t done something to him while he was unconscious it could only mean she wanted something to do with him that needed him to be conscious. That and she was alone. Why else would she refer to this new destination as their isle and show up all on her lonesome to find him washed ashore? She could only do that if this was her territory and she had control of what happened here. He was in another place. She was another foe. But..

He was going to resist. He had to get home. He had nothing else to hold onto but his wife’s embrace, his son’s childhood, and his kingdom.

Then he sighed as he slowly shook his head. The prophecy of Tiresias and Zeus’s test of Odysseus’s true nature tightened around his already fragile mind.

The idea of his wife’s embrace, his son’s childhood, and his kingdom could only be within reach if he was still Odysseus. If they felt comfortable with him again.

If he felt comfortable with himself again.

Calypso hadn’t actually paid too much attention to the mortal’s visage as she had sung to him, looking more at his firm chest and also the grim remnants of Zeus's attack he'd survived that he seemingly didn’t take note of yet himself. Looking at his face, Calypso could vaguely see the sweat on his forehead and brow and the eyes in particular now that they were open.

Eyes of a vivid scarlet. Or was it just some sort of illusion? Could mortals really possess a strange and even foreboding shade of pupils?

“... Not much for singing?” Calypso spoke this time, trying to keep this going naturally. She was now at a strange point in this discussion she had imagined in her head where she didn’t feel it was alright to ask him his name yet. In fact she felt a bit frazzled at this new obstacle that was a man looking outright hostile to her. She suspected he might still be shaken from what had happened prior to coming to Ogygia and it seemed she was right. He slowly grabbed at himself  as it appeared he was now coming to terms with the injuries he had been inflicted. He hissed once he discovered the burns of Zeus’s lightning on his arms, and she wondered if him reaching for his sword’s sheath was a moment of him processing what had actually happened to him.

The man pulling it out was another matter entirely for her. Revealing the blade held within was a Xiphos.

Then he gripped the hilt with a surge of strength and if Calypso hadn’t been in a war where instincts to react to a sudden attack were a means of survival, she would’ve otherwise had been dealt a vicious blow to her chest once he swung it at her!

“Aaahhh…!” She gave a small scream as she felt the blade deliver a decent cut to her left arm, a flash of pain that lingered slightly afterward. Why didn’t I disarm him? Calypso was now realizing her earlier musings of ‘worrying about coming off untrustworthy by invading his privacy’ was her being too merciful. This however also deeply aggravated her as a result. She was a goddess and this mortal who landed on her isle rewarded her consideration for him and soon-to-be destiny of staying in paradise with her dared attack her? He had merely survived Zeus (As actually impressive a feat that was) but that didn’t give him the will to do whatever he wanted with another deity. She was about to instinctively use her voice aggressively on him but as she backed away slightly and got to her feet she took a more careful look at this mortal warrior’s demeanor now that he was awake.

He got to his feet with a measured posture that showed he was also very experienced in battle as he held his weapon correctly and kept his stance at the most optimal for seizing initiative. As if he thought she had ambushed him in his sleep. He swung the sword down towards the sand, seeing the golden ichor of Calypso from its edge splatter in a strange brilliance before the waters of the fickle sea dragged it away like an offering.

“A goddess. I knew it. Can’t close my eyes, must use my wit.” He sang. He actually sang. He sounded absolutely breathtaking. Though in his tone, it sounded as if it was entirely drained and hollow, echoing of numb ease. Calypso (nervously) quickly looked to his face as his very musical address to her had made her feel extremely vulnerable despite the fact he himself must’ve known he was up against someone who can’t die. The red eyes focused in on the sword, his mouth settled in a bizarre small smile, and the sweat had already disappeared as if he was comforted by the fact he had attacked and confirmed Calypso’s nature. 

This wasn’t someone who seemed like the type of person to survive Zeus, let alone have been potentially spared by him. Compared to the victims of Zeus’s wrath that she knew, her father was incredible and loving and sweet and driven. The other Titans who she didn’t sympathize with but still fought valiantly against Zeus all were loyal to the cause of the Titans. They fought for their kin with duty and reason, and bloodlines to protect. That and other Titans she trusted and cared for who she did sympathize with also had been dealt similar blows by other divine weapons like Poseidon’s trident.

Yet this man had just attacked her within minutes of seeing and hearing from her all to confirm she was a goddess? Why was that? How… could someone who seemed dishonorable, foolishly brave, looking as if he hadn’t felt love for so long the same way she had, and was all alone like she was, but apparently witty... had survived Zeus? 

While she was still very much offended and upset, Calypso was now beginning to find something very unnerving yet curious about this warrior. He was definitely unlike anything she had ever known but it was for all the most discomforting reasons. She was still picturing a future in this paradise with him after all and she wasn’t intent on ending him for this slight against her. She would have to find a way to get through to him and find these answers. Yet he had already moved on from examining his sword as he suddenly lifted the Xiphos to her like he was giving a command directly against her…!

“Goddess of the isle, won’t stay for a while,  I’ve got somewhere I’ve shed blood to see. I’m sure you’d like to have me be your pet or plaything but there’s ruthlessness in me. Through ages your kind can, demoralize a man. So I must ask just to be sure. What new thing would you have me do?” He frowned at her as he sang to her. Then as he got to his last line, his expression didn’t match his eyes as his eyes suddenly looked almost distraught for a moment but then sharpened with that same merciless cold glare at her. Calypso flinched as her fingers traced over the cut on her arm, knowing she could remedy it easily at home like she had with her headache, but realized that by him saying ‘kind’ he may be referring to more than just Zeus in his past. So he had to have been on a journey with some other people. Though comparing her kind with Zeus stung deeply. She was no Olympian nor would she ever want to be. 

She was a Titan. The ones that came before and crafted the world. 

Demoralize a man though… that phrase suggested that whoever this mortal was, they didn’t see themselves the same way they once upon a time did before dealing with immortals. How long was that for them?

“I’ve no idea of your name, I won’t understand unless you share-” Calypso decided that taking an aggressive approach in her response would possibly risk another attempted attack. She wasn’t on equal footing here like she normally would be as a goddess not knowing his name. He was hiding it from her… Which was genuinely ingenious if he respected the immortal’s different ways of acquiring information. But he cut her off.

The first time she had ever been interrupted in her song.

“History has shown you wouldn't care!!” The mortal warrior snarled at her in a strong high note. The look in his eyes betrayed great pain and suffering though his anger and spite seemed to be coming from a very recent place.

“I’m aware of who you are and why I’m here, fate has shown me that my journey’s clear. I’ve lost people to protect, choices I regret, so what’s there left for me to fear?” Odysseus clenched the fist of his other hand as the goddess before him was staring at him with a slightly open mouth of stunned terror and shock. Flashes in Odysseus’s mind of Polites and Eurylochus' final moments and countless arms reaching from the ocean waters filled his mind. Athena’s disapproving stare and a godsforsaken wind bag held by loathsome Winions troubled his mind. Then he just smiled at her and made a cavalier-like shrug of the shoulders as his eyes and sardonic voice showed just how used to this ‘journey’ he was. Eurylochus was right about this being more like suffering through hell at this point, 12 years in.

“If you make one wrong move, then you’re done for.” At this point the mortal man made strides towards her, clasping his blade’s hilt with both hands and stepping with the intensity of a predatory beast as his voice held no concern for either’s well-being. It was eerily similar to the slow strides of Poseidon with trident drawn. as he would confront the goddess in the Titanomachy, unphased by her voice from stuffing seaweed in his earlobes to cancel her effects. Calypso slowly took a step backwards…

“Friends or enemies close in, then you’re done for.”

“Greet the world with open arms, then you’re done for.” Odyssey’s voice at this line twinged with an emotion that was compared to the sardonic sound he had been making sounded much more regretful. More towards whatever was happening or had happened to himself than trying to direct any of the lyrics meaning to her. As if he knew this encounter between them was a foregone conclusion…

It was this point here that Calypso finally seemed to understand that here he was almost singing to himself. Singing to the world. A tribute similar to how Calypso would for her absent family but filled with an angst that she had also remembered a number of her songs dripping with. Having sung for so long and trying her hand at everything from personification to allusion to similes, she felt confident in deciphering this mortal singer’s song. No matter how hostile his body language and expression was towards her. Those red eyes and his willingness to suicidally defy a goddess still scared her though… That and now another thought was coming into her mind. 

Was… he even a mortal at all? Sure the bandages were red on his injury but… had the Olympians developed the power to disguise their blood as mortals? She didn’t know. How could she know? Maybe that was why the burns from Zeus were so minor? Why he had possibly let the man be on her island without interference so far?

She froze. He carried on without missing a stride in his rhythm.

“All I take is suffering from you!” Odysseus saw her hesitation as her bracing herself for something she was about to do to him. He paused, getting himself ready to react.

“I am a different beast now, a monster within a man now, myself and the deceased, ‘cause all we took was suffering from you!” Odysseus could see the goddess’s timid expression in an almost hazy state. Like whenever he was within Quick Thought with Athena but with only a madness that seemed to have now filled his voice like it did with the Sirens massacre. Only what he was seeing was this new goddess switching her expressions, parts of her appearance and even her posing into looking like familiar foes he perceived she was no better than. He saw her holding a bag that contained the storm inside while she winked at him. He saw her carrying a trident and glaring down at him with no forgiveness. He saw her holding a pig in her arms with a whimsical smile. He saw her reaching out to him as though serenading him in Penelope’s garbs. He saw six dog heads surrounding her like an aura while she had a bloodthirsty grin on her face. And lastly he saw her wielding a thunderbolt and smugly grinning with a pride only a ruler of Olympus could earn. His stare grew colder and more furious, as if he wanted her to disappear on the spot. It drove the goddess to finally respond again.

“Stop this! Stop this please! I… I don’t mean to come off like a monster!” She did not sing. She cried out. Calypso now genuinely wasn’t sure anymore. This miracle was becoming a nightmare. Like it was a cruel trick of the gods. Was a god truly pretending to be this mortal warrior throwing accusations at her, lamenting about what evils the gods did, and threatening her? Would they manifest their true form and end her existence if she didn’t bow to him or give him some yet unknown request? And… was any of her increasingly visible concern for his well-being true being seen for what it was? She looked into his eyes again and while he did slightly soften his eyes, she could also now see that any perceived loathing had now become almost a deadness. 

A resignation. Just as his sardonic tone earlier hinted at. He had heard a line like what she had just said before. Though based on the frown returning, he likely hadn’t responded positively to this particular kind of plea. In some dark way given the circumstances, it made Calypso truly want to know more about him if he really wasn’t a god in disguise. But would she? 

Calypso decided to try. She took a deep breath trying to recompose herself. She was a goddess after all. Daughter of the God of Strength and Endurance. If the wound on her arm hadn’t stunned her, nor should her first visitor in paradise. Then she began to sing in the intended welcoming notes she had imagined in her song for this mortal but now much more melancholic and quiet. 

“Your suffering’s clear, I’m sorry to hear, I only want to know one crucial fact. Are you or are you not? Mortal or god?” Calypso wrapped her arms around herself and looked at the mortal man somberly. There was a pause as he stared her down but then just showed a small quiver of his lip, looking truly sad for a moment.

“I’m a monster…” Odysseus seemed almost glad that he had a reason to fully address the truth of the matter at this goddess’s question, eyes growing emptier than they already looked. Did it matter if he bled red if living things bled red around him first? It was who he was-

“I can’t accept that, from what I’ve looked at, I observe that you hold immense remorse. Mortals wear their hearts on their sleeves, your choices I won’t force.” Calypso sang gently as she took initiative to bravely approach him. In truth it pained her to yield this much power to him. To essentially give this man the right to potentially leave her for good. To have come all this way in her life to finally meet someone… only for them to maybe want to flee just as suddenly as they came into her life. But this man was suffering much more extremely than she had ever felt in 100 years. The pain didn’t differentiate them but it was the ways that pain affected them. He needed to see what Calypso felt she was seeing in him and that was a new friend (Love was certainly farthest from her mind after being slashed at) in immense pain.

“You don’t know what I’ve gone through!” Odysseus suddenly took a step back from Calypso as he felt as if the goddess was offering a bait into a trap, repeating his line from earlier, and looking away from her, instead looking out at the ocean. The overcast sky made all seem so dark and grim just as his heart had become. He couldn’t see how Calypso was almost offended that he seemed to think that in this moment the ocean was more comforting than her actual presence, but then he started getting misty-eyed.

“You don’t know what I’ve sacrificed… Every comrade I long knew… Every friend… I saw them die… You’ll just bring me pain…” He was tearing up now, looking like he was trying to resist her with every fiber of his being. Like it was his last resort, his last strength. Maybe his only remaining friend was the very emotion of feeling like a monster. Though Calypso also couldn’t fathom what it must’ve been like if that was true. 

For every one of the ones that knew and cared about him in his life to just be gone. 

Now that she processed it in her thoughts, it was exactly like what she had experienced with her family. She may not have seen them die like he had with his comrades, but they both could feel the torment their absence had afflicted them with.

That would absolutely demoralize a man who now only had himself right now and at this point Calypso knew that he needed her. Just not in the way she expected him to. After all, the fact he still seemed like he had somewhere to be. Somewhere he had shed blood for just to reach which indicated it was a very important place to him and perhaps to his late comrades as well (In the back of her mind it begged the new question of if it was truly Zeus who had ended their lives, how had they had earned his ire so personally)?

“I wouldn’t.” Calypso stopped singing. And the man’s world shook with shock as he looked over to her, the redness in his eyes finally fading into what seemed to be his natural eye color. Something astonishing that she hadn’t imagined. One brown and one blue eye. Earth and sea. It was gorgeous but Calypso knew looks didn’t matter in the face of how sorrowful they currently appeared.

“Please don’t mean to make me do what I wouldn’t do…” Begging Zeus failed and he was left alone. Begging Poseidon failed and the sea became his enemy. Begging this goddess was his last hope. He just didn’t want to be at this goddess’s ‘pride’ or ‘mercy’. He couldn’t bear another god taking an invaluable and cherished part of who he was as Odysseus from him permanently. He wanted to at least come back to Ithaca and show Telemachus how to string a bow perfectly and tell Penelope that she was his greatest power. If nothing else. He wanted to be buried there and have a service for all 600 men before then.

“Why would I ever make the first mortal I ever met in 100 years do something that they didn't want to do?” Calypso expressed straightforwardly her innermost feelings on this man. Anxiety. Hurt. Curiosity. Concern. Empathy. In a genuine question. She had chosen so long ago that the first person she met she would get to know without swaying them with her voice. She was only hoping that this poor, traumatized survivor of some terrible journey could finally realize her intent. And for the first time, the mortal man realized she had something that no other deity who he had crossed him possessed. A familiar pain of intense loneliness. That her words had come from something that had truly happened and existed for her. That she also had suffering.

“100 years?” Odysseus asked her, breathless as he dropped his blade. Hostility abandoned in the face of the goddess looking misty-eyed for a moment.

“What I wouldn’t have given to have comrades like yours for any period within those 100 years. With how their loss makes you carry such burdens upon your mind and heart, it proves that you were very important to them as they were very important to you. You shouldn’t call yourself a monster when monsters terrorize, punish and kill for reasons against their victims' will. If you won’t give me your name to protect yourself from the monsters that have pained you greatly then that’s alright. I will tell you mine so that you don’t have to see me as part of a ‘kind’ and in hopes that you can start to heal and trust me. I am the goddess Calypso.” Calypso did a graceful hand gesture and offered a docile smile. Not quite serving an all-powerful and benevolent goddess, but showing a bit of flair that she hoped brought him some joy.

“Calypso…” He repeated it. It was very plausible she could still be lying but he heard her words. She was understanding and seemed to realize the intent of some of his actions, the past intense moments between them, better than he had anticipated. Though he was a capable strategist and had adapted to the ways gods had been thinking, Calypso was not an Olympian it seemed. She may have been like Circe who contained her own home and thought rather independently from them with intense actions but reasonable and selfless motivations. Only Calypso had no nymphs with her, it appeared. Only herself and this isle she seemed to cherish as her only domain. That and she still didn’t seem to agree with him that he was a monster when every one of his actions since Troy seemed to suggest that. How could she be so… patient? Like Penelope must be waiting so agonizingly for him… And all the others from Ithaca who wanted their families, lovers, siblings and friends back… He fell to his knees stricken with guilt. Even if Calypso was trying to lift his suffering… he didn’t think he could bear it any longer.

“I, was their Captain and let them down

I, know there’s a god who’d see me drown

I, fear I won’t be able to continue life like this, so many died through this. *Sob*” Odysseus’s next lines were very slow and harmonious, as if they were truly his lament. The heart of his suffering. He was trying to still hold everything inside. The tears rolled down his face as it seemed to indicate that in fact, he could not close off his heart. That deep down inside, he did take responsibility for his failings. It was what Athena wanted Odysseus to do way back when he had the option to finish the Cyclops off for good with his identity hidden, and he was too stubborn and proud in choosing to instead avenge his fallen friend Polites and mark his name in history. That all this suffering was brought about by him and not just by the deities being cruel to him. Yet admitting it at this moment to this Calypso… What if it just meant he was never going to get home by doing so? That she would just keep him here forever? Did she really care about his pain?

“... There’s nothing I can say about what I don’t know ‘Captain’. What I do know is the importance of releasing your feelings and not keeping it inside yourself eternally. Suffering can only be taken away when you confess to it. There’s no other experience more freeing.” Calypso moved over to be at his side and crouched down beside him as she urged him to just finally cry, gently putting one arm around his shivering form.

Odysseus promptly started wailing to the skies, tears flowing like the very River Styx, and giving up ruthlessness entirely. In this private moment between two suffering and lonely figures, he grieved.

Now he was finally a man again. 

A man in great pain, a man who lost much of his best years of his life and his best friends. A man still standing and now able to express his emotions earnestly without a jeering or judgemental audience. A Man I’d be proud to call my friend and help him through this, Calypso thought as she petted his back in motion with his heaving sobs and laments. He soon curled up upon the ground, head to the sand as he kept crying for much of the morning until it was nearing forenoon.

Calypso had stayed silent for the mortal warrior, and stayed resolute and comforting as she too had moments where she found herself sobbing and wailing during her tenure on Ogygia. Especially in her youth, she’d sulk and sob enviously at the sea, wrapping her arms around her legs and thinking if this was really all she could have in life now. Things were different with this guest’s arrival and as much as she had earlier reminisced and desired his love, there was much more she had to unpack first with him. He was a worn down adventurer missing home and having endured great trials in his adventures. There could be such powerful and amazing songs from that. Yet he had a lot of healing to do before he could share them with her and she wanted him to smile. She had never seen a smile other than hers and her mother had always said a smile was a sign of security and of love. Self-love, unconditional, romantic, or familial.

When the man finally had stopped sobbing, now looking rather exhausted and hungry as his different colored eyes paid attention to the scenery of the isle. It seemed he was taking it all in quietly to himself… or maybe thinking more about something the goddess could only wonder what it was. She let go of him (Silently being so grateful he hadn’t pushed her away or shoved her aside as she held him through his grieving), and stood up.

“Come now Captain. I fear as much as you are missing home, it may serve you best to stay a while in my paradise to recoup from your perils. I’ll give you food and fresh water, a place to bathe, fresh bandages for your wounds, and new clothes right away. Then if you are feeling up to it, I could take you along to show you everything Ogygia has to offer.” She tried to sound a bit more responsible than her usual bubbly tone. Reminding him that she still was a goddess and ruler of this island and that maybe for future reference he wouldn’t try slashing at her again. Honestly, Atlas himself was hot-blooded sometimes but never to that extent. While she was still being honest to herself, she also had no actual men’s clothes available for him so she’d probably have to work on a new outfit and give him one of her out of rotation pieces to customize to his size.

Odysseus unconsciously felt at the spot where his current bandages were, and then where the new burns from Zeus marked his arms, and frowned. The perils from friend and foe alike would their scars on him forever. It was true though he needed to recoup after trying to find every way around the domain that he was still on the run from and from just everything else that had pushed him this far from who he once was. It’d do him some good to try, if only for one last time, leading from the heart.

“Thank you Calypso… Although, I don’t think I’ve earned the right to be called Captain.” The man slowly sighed, as he struggled to pick himself to his feet. He sounded just as exhausted as he seemed and his eyes, red from the tears, supported the notion that he was not going to object to staying at the moment. Calypso hid a smile at her progress in helping him though she also wondered genuinely what she should do about addressing him.

“Are there any names you are comfortable with dear?” She’d always dreamed of calling someone ‘dear’.

Hell no am I being called ‘dear’ by anyone other than my wife, Odysseus still had some charisma in him currently to have that thought as he looked a little bit unimpressed that she had jumped to that intimate-sounding nickname.

“Maybe not ‘dear’. That’s already been taken by someone else who’s waiting for me.” He grunted as he looked down at his Xiphos. He was genuinely considering leaving it behind because it just reminded him of his stab wound from his men. That he might have to use it again in the worst of ways just to make it home again. Yet… if Calypso hadn’t taken it away from him while he was unconscious, perhaps the goddess had deemed it something important to him. That was nice of her and that niceness made the blade feel like it was still integral to him getting home. That and it could be useful to use on this island for menial tasks.

“Hmm. Well it’s not worth making too much of a fuss over. Just let me know what you'd like to be called so that our communication may flow smoothly between us, mortal.” Calypso, deeply pained inside to a humorous degree by him not letting her use ‘dear’ for him, still wanted to accommodate and help him perk up.

She turned around. She faced her paradise with an excitement she hadn’t felt in ages. She was about to lead him towards her cave but then he said it.

“Odysseus. You can call me by my name. Odysseus.” The sound of the Xiphos being sheathed back in its place followed suit. 

Calypso looked back at him with a delighted smile and hopeful warmth in her eyes and from that point she had made a new acquaintance. Perhaps even a soon-to-be friend. Life would be so much better now with him at her side. … Just as soon as she learned exactly what she was dealing with of course.

To Be Continued…

Chapter Text

It felt awkward for Odysseus to be the one invited further into a goddess’s domain given every instinct he had developed along this journey. Euryomachus had been so shaken up from what resulted from his scouting party’s tryst with Circe in her palace that the idea of following Calypso along would surely be a grave blunder. Not to mention that he finally relented in giving her his name (When the last time he had done that he earned a deluge from Poseidon himself). Why had he done that? With his clarity returning to him from so long holding onto a numbing suffering in his heart and head, the part of him that had been Athena’s champion once before was scolding himself. He was risking a lot in believing that this goddess with an enchantingly beautiful voice, a potentially genuine concern for his well-being, and the mercy to not react to an assault against her the way an Olympian would was as she had acted. He told himself then that he should keep a more guarded approach to what was to be his new place of recovery for now as he paced after the goddess, away from the ocean horizon. This was his last chance to get some rest he felt before the final stretch of heading to Ithaca. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling there was a risk he was going to keep himself from home for even longer if things went awry.

100 years she had said? That he was the first human she had ever seen? The first person to arrive at her island?

He shuddered to think of why that was. Why would a goddess be here for so long without anyone having visited her before?

Calypso was humming to herself as she moved with a graceful fluidity like a deer that Artemis would’ve revered. Odysseus wasn’t sure if he would have fallen for a goddess had Penelope not blessed his life with her love, beauty, wisdom, intelligence, and strength but he wasn’t about to imagine it now. He could see how Calypso would be desirable with her very presence being like the riveting energy of a waterfall in motion. How her voice was mesmerizingly gorgeous and echoed deep within the listeners hearts. He was also curious about why it was that she seemed to naturally communicate in song. Singing was Apollo’s domain so perhaps she was one of his daughters the same way the cave cyclops had been Poseidon’s son?

“...” Odysseus grimaced, as if he could feel the pain reappear from his sustained injuries from the gods. Thinking about that accursed giant eyeball who took Polites from him was the last thing he wanted right now. In hindsight he would’ve gladly had just slain the monster like Athena had insisted if it would’ve spared him from losing brothers in arms and companionship that had carried him through such dark times in his life away from Penelope. Then there was the matter that he still had to respect and understand Calypso as a goddess herself. He’d have to find out how she acted as a guest in her domain. Something that was not historically an easy or quick task for mortals.

Distracting himself from his dark thoughts, he took a closer look at this island around him. Compared to Circe’s island, there was something more secluded about it. Circe’s had been very much open forest with an element of mystery, with trails all around including the one that led to her illustrious palace. It had also been more developed and lived in. The playpens of enchanted swine, the wild beasts roaming around freely as if it were truly an animal kingdom, lavish decor around and within that perhaps Circe had conjured herself and the many nymphs that Circe fiercely protected being the main populace gave it the feeling of something like an isolated civilization. A culture all its own and that did not seem to answer to nor need governance from any of the Olympians. By contrast within this isle, there were no clear paths aside from what seemed to be natural findings within this much more exotic-seeming jungle. They were wading through bush, walking along sand, and it was more quiet by extension. It felt undiscovered and private like a territory waiting to be transformed by settlers. Odysseus had never imagined expanding Ithaca or even the scale of his kingdom the way some rulers may have sought in history. There was so much to his island kingdom that he cherished and the people who lived there all contributed to a thriving civilization. Maybe that was why Polites expressed such an idealistic viewpoint when facing new encounters because there was so much to already be happy at home about. Why would they need to be hostile or aggressive to residents of foreign lands keeping this in mind?

It wasn’t like him to be reflecting this much since they left Troy. He’d even shut himself off from thinking about Polites after coming back from the Underworld. Odysseus wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Could it be that he was just adapting to the fact that he no longer had anyone to really talk to about his tenuous adventure by learning to talk to himself inside his mind?

“We should nearly be there Odysseus!” Calypso thankfully (Finally) spoke again to cut through Odysseus’s inner concerns as she pointed towards what she called her home. She had wanted to hold his hand but he had looked at her gesture of holding her arm out with a tired head shake. It seemed he didn’t feel like being held now so she had respected that and merely guided him the way her father would when showing her someplace new.

“Calypso…?” Odysseus’s downtrodden and weary voice responded.

“Yes?” Calypso blinked and looked at him.

“What *is* the name of your island?” Odysseus asked her.

“Ogygia. The name’s meaning is ‘ancient.’ Since it’s my home it has very much remained the same and hasn’t changed.” Her reply came in a slightly sardonic tone. Zeus had told her the name of this island and its meaning. She wondered then as a curious and scared young Titan if he and the other Olympians had access to a lot of other unknown isles that they saved for banishment and punishments of those who opposed them. Odysseus seemed to pick up on this. Compared to the confidence of Circe when she was upon her island, Calypso seemed almost reticent in regards to the relationship between her and this Ogygia.

“Ogygia… That is my first time hearing the name.” Odysseus blanked and frowned. The nightmarish journey home certainly was filled with many firsts and many new details to record should he return.

“And it’s my first time having a visitor here. The irony is laughable.” Calypso giggled, enjoying that Odysseus was as new to this as she was in a sense.

“Is that so? Not even your own family visited?” Odysseus asked, rubbing his new scars insecurely. Calypso gave a somewhat surprised glance.

“Were that the case then I’d have no reason to lie about having had company once before. What’s most important to know is that my island stays unknown. No other gods have bothered me or would even think of setting foot here. You are free to heal and gather your bearings as long as you desire.” Calypso twirled around and continued on her way. The idea of not experiencing another visit from an Olympian sounded immensely uplifting to Odysseus.

Of course he didn’t know that on this point, Calypso was lying to herself.

“That’s a relief knowing we won’t have sudden divine interventions. If you are a goddess then who are your birthparents?” Odysseus could buy the Olympians being that cold and standoffish to not visit her. Athena outcasted him, Poseidon ‘chilled with the waves’, Zeus was all too gleeful to make Odysseus condemn his own men, and the stories of the other actions of gods like Hera were renowned as warning signs and hostile by scholars and priests. Yet Calypso didn’t seem like them at all. Not if she was calling her own paradise unknown.

Unknown like no one would ever find him here if he was trapped here.

He swallowed just as Calypso paused for a moment, held her arm with her other one while she turned her back to him, and he could almost hear her take a breath of caution. The question was difficult for her. Somehow though, it was reassuring. She had been so quick to become rather airy and ethereal in her demeanor when it was the more uncertain, humble, and human (Mortal) gestures of showing vulnerability and letting him cry that he had grown to initially trust her for. To know she wasn’t in any way trying to play him like Aeolus had. As much as he could trust a deity that was not Hermes at any rate.

“I expected curiosity but this is quite surprising to hear Odysseus. My birth parents are dear to my heart and the strongest beings I can trust. I’d share more about them when I feel the time is appropriate but rest is most ideal for you within this moment. I don’t want to dwell on matters of divine nature for too long in my paradise.” Calypso’s tone seemed measured and a little defiant. It was less that she didn’t *want* to tell Odysseus about Atlas and Pleione but rather that she didn’t know if he’d appreciate being told about the Titans and what became of her family after everything he’d gone through.

“... So you’re not… Never mind. You are right that I feel like I could feast and sleep for the rest of the day….” Odysseus felt even more tired all of a sudden. Calypso by her own admission had been waiting a great deal of time for any kind of connection. In that way, he realized he didn’t want to risk incurring her wrath by treading too deeply into what seemed to be untreaded social territory. That and it seemed like she didn’t want to talk too deeply about who her parents were yet her compliments indicated she clearly loved them. It all made the status of her being a god’s child and alone on Ogygia that was christened ‘her island’ seem much more mysterious.

And lonely. He worried this was exactly how Penelope and Telemachus must’ve felt being on an island that was theirs but without the one that they loved most in the world.

“Behold! Where you may feast and sleep for the rest of the day.” Calypso played along with Odysseus’s words as she revealed the entrance to her cave.

Odysseus took a step back as he was flooded again with the grim memories of the last cave on an island he’d been to. The bitter part was that the cave looked much smaller than Polyphemus’s, the entrance was surrounded by lush plant life and had slightly more welcoming lighting with sunlight illuminating the passageway. He would have likely been rather joyous to come across a welcoming place for him to stay that was safe from the elements many years ago. Now though it felt like a tumultuous deja vu that was only made doable by the company of Calypso being here. She herself seemed to take note of the way Odysseus’s skin had gone pale and him holding himself back with his body instinctually.

“I’m afraid this cave really is my main dwelling here Odysseus. I could perhaps fashion us some outdoor campground to your liking but the main bath, my immediate supplies, furnishings, my golden loom, and the finest bed for your liking are here.” Calypso murmured apologetically, intertwining her own fingers.

It mattered that she was giving him a choice.

“It’s alright Calypso… I would gladly take the familiar discomfort if it means getting to finally sleep and get myself cleaned and groomed again.” Odysseus forced a bit of chipperness in his response as he didn’t want Calypso to feel like she was disappointing him. She certainly hadn’t been since they found even ground on their situations in life together.

“Familiar discomfort. Was a cave part of the suffering you endured?’ Calypso asked as she slowly moved her feet along the sand. 

Odysseus did not answer but the slight roll of his shoulders and the way he started striding into the cave almost obediently seemed to indicate it very much was related. He was closed off from her but Calypso could at least understand why if it was part of a specific and terrible tragedy. Though part of her did sigh to herself. Interacting with her siblings in the past was more trying (It was not a stretch to say the Titans were a feisty bunch) but a lot easier to get into more meaningful discussion matters than this would pose to be. She’d have to really help Odysseus heal to the best of her abilities. Knowing this, she followed after him slowly.

Odysseus’s eyes widened as he took his first look within Calypso’s cave. It reminded him of Circe’s palace; only it was completely contained within the space of this moderately big (although certainly still dwarfed in size by the cave that he had lost Polites in) cave. There was an ancient-looking stone fountain pouring fresh water, a magnificently golden loom just as Calypso had described which looked much more pristine than even Penelope’s normal loom, and various baskets filled with clothes, food, paper, tools, and bottles. The bed she had described looked very welcoming with a benevolent-looking canopy just as the ones that had been used in his palace on Ithaca and in particular reminiscent of the wedding bed he’d prepared for his beloved. There were several open spaces in the cavern where sunlight could come in but more troublesome elements could be avoided and while some furnishings such as the desks and chairs looked ancient, others looked like they had been carved by hand like the table that seemed to be set for meals. Perhaps she had crafted them herself as the goddess of the island? Or was she related to a god whose domain had a knack for such handiwork like Hephaestus or… Athena?

No, she definitely didn’t strike Odysseus as a daughter of Athena, namely because Athena was a virgin goddess and as far as he had known, would never have a child. She had told him herself once during the discussions about love and marriage when Odysseus first was thinking of courting Helen of Troy before ultimately discovering the majesty that was Penelope. If anything Calypso being around for 100 years implied maybe she was related to even more ancient deities than he could envision right now. That was a touch unnerving to think about it but maybe it meant she was in some ways different from the Olympians altogether. The most hopeful option of this revelation was that she was actually capable of showing mercy.

“Enchanting isn’t it? It’s much better I think when having this type of space to be able to share it with someone. Makes it really feel more like a home to me than ever before.” She had gotten behind Odysseus and whispered to him in an almost sensual tone from sheer excitement at how mesmerized Odysseus seemed. How his eyes brightened noticeably and with focus that clearly wasn’t thinking back to whatever cave trauma he’d previously gone through. Calypso had never shared this space with animals because she knew they could leave droppings in here and she didn’t wish to bother cleaning it up. So between them, she felt as though the thrill of togetherness and connection was mounting. Alas, Odysseus was just as quick to slightly turn away and step away from her as he realized how close she was. As well as how excited she seemed.

“I didn’t think it’d be this decorated and adorned like an authentic home. It’s pretty to look at.” Odysseus muttered ever so slightly shyly. He faced her again once the space between them was established and saw Calypso smile brightly at the compliment. Clearly all her time developing the perfect balance of what looked nice and what was practical in her cavern paid off. Then he continued, 

“Were these fashioned by you?” He was about to also ask her if someone else made them for her but he had already been told of her life in solitude. There were no crafters to call upon their services or a way to trade on this island which made it all the more unusual that she had these.

“I’ve no tools like the kind that architects possess here I’m afraid. It’s more like I found these here within this cave for me already. The clothes you see are all crafted by my loom. Designing my own fashions is one of my many pastimes.” Calypso was doing her best to not give too much of her burden away. In truth, Zeus had given much of the furniture to her, built by Hephaestus himself to keep her comfortable (Or perhaps feel indebted to the gods for not mercilessly leaving her to fend for herself but it won them no favor with her). Though some of the oldest looking pieces of furniture were actually brought to her from the ruins of the Titans dwellings after the Olympians purged their presence from the earth. Zeus had probably brought those for her as a subtle warning of ever trying to defy the Olympians command again. Not that he needed to do that given he eclipsed Calypso but it just reflected his truly spiteful nature.

Just like Penelope, Odysseus thought fondly while Calypso was giving a modest smile about this fact.

“I guess there wouldn’t be anything you’ve made already for a man of my size then?” He asked with a little bit of jokingness as he sat at the fountain and idly brushed his fingers across the cooling waters. Calypso shook her head with a giggle. She wasn’t trying to appease him, she sincerely had found his statement quite funny since it was true.

“Everything I currently possess would likely be dwarfed by your physique Odysseus. Regardless, you can probably make do with some of my hand-me downs and do a bit of tailoring whilst you bathe. Then tomorrow, perhaps even tonight while there’s still hours in the day, I’ll start working on a new chiton for you.” Calypso said as she couldn’t help but take a look at the way Odysseus’s arms reminded her of her father’s famed arms. Even Pleione had told her it was Atlas’s chiseled limbs that had been the most desirable physical feature at first sight when Calypso asked her how they came to be. Not even the scars from Zeus’s lightning could tarnish the reflection of beauty and power that they possessed.

Odysseus and Atlas both.

“What are you staring at?” Odysseus now gave an amused smile. It wasn’t the first time that someone female and new had given him a gaze of interest beyond the conversation topic. Calypso gasped at the fact that her snooping was caught so easily (Even if this was the first time she had anyone to actually tell her now that she was old enough whether her female gaze was obvious to perceive). Then she naturally looked down, eyes bouncing left to right in an embarrassed manner and thought of an easy way around this before heading over to the basket of garments.

“I was already working out how to properly take measurements of your arms for the outfit. That’s all…” Of course she wasn’t going to point out the scars. They both knew why those scars were there. This was a much more reasonable excuse. As for Odysseus, he admittedly felt a very rare old feeling of delight. Of delight that he could still leave even an immortal being a bit entranced and pacified in his influence. The same confidence that had allowed him to earn the favor of gods and successfully survive encounters against the unfathomable. This smoothness was a trait he would’ve thought lost for good this morning and while he still didn’t exactly feel enthusiasm in teasing Calypso as his younger pre-Troy self would’ve, it did help him get more at ease with being here. 

In paradise as she called it.

There was a small silence as Calypso sought some garbs and accessories she felt would suffice for Odysseus to gather them in her arms, as well as fresh bandages for the recent wound he’d sustained. Lastly, she reached into the basket filled with bottles and found one that looked to be in a pearlescent flask with what appeared to be olive oil (Odysseus winced recalling how the olive tree was a sacred symbol of his former patron goddess). She then promptly handed him the bottle of olive oil to be used as soap and set the clothes and bandaging on the bed before clapping her hands together and decreeing,

“Now it is time for your bath Odysseus. Your clothes have taken such wear and tear that I do believe it is ok to discard them unless you wish to keep them.” Her smile was infectious yet Odysseus couldn’t help but look and feel awkwardly in regards to the fountain that he had just absent-mindedly been fooling around at. That was the indoor bath she mentioned? Well I guess if she relied solely on natural bodies of water in Ogygia  it’d be uncomfortable bathing in the middle of a storm, he thought considerately. Then there was the matter that she was looking at him as though she was a mother encouraging her child to get into the bath. A goddess encouraging a grown mortal married man into the bath.

“I don’t… mind getting rid of them at this point. Are you going to be doing anything in the meantime while I bathe?” He asked carefully as he fingered the cut in his chiton from a crewmate’s sword. This was one of Penelope’s chitons she had prepared for him specially for his journey so it would hurt to part with it in a deeper sense. He knew it’d hurt more never seeing Penelope again and it’d be a relief being rid of some of the intensely negative memories associated with this chiton now.

“Yes, I am going to gather the necessary food and drink that’ll renew your energy, quench your thirst and help you feel like a new… sorry, restored man.” Calypso remembered how Odysseus seemed to hate how he had seemingly changed so she changed her figurative language to reassure him. It seemed to work as Odysseus looked eager to dine on this legendary meal (It’d probably be fish, some salad, and squeezed golden apple juice). Yet he noticed she still had not moved or stopped gazing at him even after he got up and released his Xiphos hilt to the floor She was slightly bouncing on her feet like some of his more excitable and youngest troops in the early days of the battle in Troy.

Was she really intending to observe him undressing?

Maybe she had her own kind of thirst after all. Odysseus knew he could probably shut it down telling her about Penelope but he had no intention of risking any god of an unknown domain knowing of Penelope’s name. Not to mention that it was very possible it could incur some kind of change in Calypso’s demeanor that might be resoundingly negative if she took it the wrong way. On the other hand, he also wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of her being this interested in seeing him physically exposed after she saw him so incredibly emotionally exposed already. It was probably down to her not knowing social graces with another person for 100 years but it had to be called out.

“Is it really necessary for me to be stared at while I disrobe and bathe in your bath Calypso? I know this is your island but I want to imagine that I can have some privacy for enjoying this bath. I haven’t been able to afford this luxury for the longest time since I’ve been out at sea.” Odysseus said as eloquently as one could get away with talking to a god.

Calypso flinched.

Then she looked guilty and frowned.

“Y-you’re right. I shouldn’t take advantage of my own hospitality. I’ll go get our meal Odysseus. When you are finished bathing just be sure to get dressed and wait for me here. I promise to be back soon.” Calypso tried to perk herself up with a fake smile and a promise. It was foolish what she just did. Even if she truly did want to see him at his most beautiful and handsome, this was much too early and he knew it too. He was getting there in terms of feeling more comfortable but not quite all there to be relaxed. The bath and alone time was what he needed most right now until sustenance arrived. That and she believed it was the right thing to do to allow him the same ‘privilege’ of aloneness when she never had felt the benefits of aloneness.

“Thank you Calypso.” She wasn’t expecting a sincere and sweet tone of gratitude from him in response when she turned to leave. It made her feel a lot better as it equally made him feel a lot better. She then took her leave, her movements having a bright energy as if she were listening to a melody.

And for the first time since he was no longer a Captain, Odysseus found himself truly alone. He couldn’t get out of his tarnished clothes fast enough and stepped into the fountain's water. While warm water would’ve been preferable (hot water being the best possibility), at least its waters didn’t feel freezing to the touch like the ocean did. It was more like the pleasant chill you’d long for on a hot summer day in Ithaca. That was all the relief he could really ask for as he finally washed off the salty brine, dried blood, sweat, and any lingering grime off in the waters. Regardless of how pleasant it all was, feeling the stab wound just beginning to heal on his torso brought him back to reality. As did the unmistakable markings left on his arms by Zeus’s lightning strike. The grim reality of what brought him here to Ogygia.

Eurylochus.

He’d been his rock for the longest time as a childhood friend and a warrior who was proud to train alongside him. His second-in-command who carried him and his 600 men through many tumultuous battles throughout the war of Troy. The one who was the pragmatist to Polites optimist. The one who won the heart of his sister Ctimene and asked him earnestly for his blessing to marry her. Odysseus had ok’d it in a heartbeat knowing that Eurylochus was one of the most honorable men he knew. Someone who was devoted and that he could trust with his… back.

 …Gods what would he tell his sister about her husband’s fate? His stepbrother’s fate?

“...” Odysseus scrubbed his hair with the olive oil soap vigorously with grunts as his eyes narrowed as he finally started to think about where it had all gone wrong. He never would’ve conceived that when the fleet began its journey home to Ithaca the possibility he’d be seeing his sister widowed. His mind recalled how Eurylochus continuously had given him grief about his leadership that disrespected him in front of his 600 men. The seeds of doubt. The tension that formed suddenly between them.

‘How much longer 'til the snake breaks free?’

“When you opened the windbag while I was asleep…” He found himself muttering as his mood took a sullen turn.

‘How much longer 'til your great days cease?’

Hiding the fact of the matter until the very moment they were within Scylla’s lair. Whether or not he was committed to the six sacrifices amongst his crew (Knowing that it was a necessity to lose someone to her from myth), the moment Eurylochus had dared to say he was ‘so sorry’, Odysseus only saw the burning flames of the torches in his eyes. Upon reflection, Odysseus realized just how much he didn’t want Telemachus to know of just how easy it was for his father to finally decide a lifelong friend was a liability fit to be fed to a monster.

‘How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?’  

When he was powerless to maintain a trust between himself and his crew when it mattered most. Left tied up like a captive of war as he saw them trespassing on Heliod’s island and slaughter the gods sacred cows all for some meat. Odysseus found himself hugging his knees in the waters. The tranquility of Calypso’s cave couldn’t numb the worst part of it all for him about his (former) second-in-command’s actions.

‘You rely on wit, and people die on it, whoa’ That damned choice… That inevitable choice. The choice that had ended his crew’s lives for good. The crew’s shock and betrayed trust while Eurylochus almost seemed accepting behind his somber gaze. A haunting image… A haunting choice that led Odysseus to this. 

Odysseus finally was able to truly think about it now.

‘I have to see her.’

Part of the reason for his choice was from hearing Penelope’s voice again. Whether it had been a conjuration from Zeus or somehow her very being called forth to him like the vision from Tiresias it reminded him of the family that was longing for him. Waiting for him. He’d never see his mother again but he knew that there was something he had built on Ithaca that could only ever be destroyed if Odysseus didn’t return. Part of it was a guilty conscience that he did feel as though he was entitled to choosing himself. That he was the king, the war hero, the captain, the warrior of the mind, the same as Scylla. The infamous Odysseus. Prophesied to return but no longer as himself.

Was he really just fulfilling the prophecy at that point?

Was that why Eurylochus said ‘but we’ll die’ as if he was warning Odysseus that he was already no longer the man he knew if it seemed he was not aware of the mortal lives at stake? Was that why Eurylochus kept his own outraged men from trying to attack and assault Odysseus on the eve of destruction even when Odysseus had aimed for his death twice in short succession? That he still wanted to protect the Odysseus he had asked for a wedding blessing and had made him second-in-command out of believing in his friend one last time?

“... Thank you Eurylochus…” Odysseus’s tears splashed onto the water as he now seemed to find his answer.  The journey home had taken its toll on Eurylochus and the rumors of the Winions without Polites conscience to mediate had been what caused his tragic downfall. Yet he tried his damndest to look out for his men, like he did on Circe’s island and when he at least tried to feed his men the cows. In his final days as a proud Ithacan, Eurylochus had turned against the monster Odysseus saw himself as in that moment hoping that the man he knew would come back even after he was vaporized by Zeus. That was what Ctimene had seen in him and loved about him. That was what Odysseus had cherished about him the most aside from his sharp instincts and assured tone. Odysseus could never make it up to him or to his wife. Could never bury him or the 599 others. It didn’t help him feel any less like someone who would finally return to Ithaca only to encounter scorn, shock, and a betrayed kingdom. A kingdom who’d demand him to atone for what he had done, what he had caused, whom he had sacrificed. A son who might be appalled by him and a wife lamenting how she had lost her husband all those years ago even when he stood in front of her. A horrible fate…

At least he could appreciate Eurylochus in memoriam for trying to help but Odysseus feared it was too late. How could he ever come back from his true nature being revealed? If anything maybe it was a good thing this island was unknown. He’d be isolated long enough to… change? Do something to redeem himself? If anything could be done to redeem himself? Calypso… Was she really truthful in saying he could heal here? That she wouldn’t make him do anything he wouldn’t want to do? Odysseus gave a great big yawn as he finished wiping his tears away. Maybe it was just the exhaustion, the recollection of the past 12 years, and the familiar unfamiliarity making him feel so negative even when alone.

“... Calypso.” Odysseus couldn’t help but say her name with somber curiosity as if she was a prayer for him in this moment of darkness and self-reflection.

As much as Calypso herself wished she could’ve said she found the food gathering more interesting with company to feed it really wasn’t. What brought her the truest joy was knowing that she would be able to help Odysseus open up and start to recover from his trauma with a satisfying meal. He had mentioned to her he had someone he called ‘dear’ at his home destination so she was nervous about the inevitable comparison. Odysseus didn’t seem stuck-up but he also was willing to cut her with his blade to determine her divine nature. Cutting her down with words for a meal that she’d had made for herself more out of necessity than enjoyment these days would be a crushing blow. Yet she sang to the fish to catch two more than her usual serving, she gathered her golden apples with accompanying fruits for the salad, and harvested her crops some vegetables as well as edible seeds for a garnish. She returned a decent while after she had departed as admittedly she really didn’t want to risk invading his privacy anymore than she feared she’d risked by returning too soon. When she returned…

Ok Odysseus looked ridiculous in her lesser-worn clothes. It made her giggle while Odysseus gave a hungry looking and embarrassed frown.

He was wearing a red peplum (That she had hand-dyed after learning that some of the vegetation on Ogygia made for very useful dyes) that had a long train and a shorter skirt that always went above her knees, which for Odysseus’s physique had now managed to get half way up his legendary thighs. He’d also been given a pair of perizoma for some modesty and necessary protection. She had designed it and many other of her outfits for her own flair and practicality for running around the island as there was no point in worrying about any modern standards she was seemingly never going to encounter. In fact, she often made more new outfits than she repurposed or fixed older ones, for she would wear out her clothes from wearing them so often. Still, even the bodice of the peplum seemed tight on Odysseus and it definitely was encouraging her to make sure this new chiton she made for him was done perfectly. In fact the only reason she had gone with such a revealing peplum for him was because it gave more room for his legs and as a warrior, she believed he’d appreciate it. It appeared upon closer inspection he had rested his weapon in the corner of the cave, changed the bandages on his injury, and put away the soap where it had been taken while leaving his old chiton hanging over a chair. Maybe to imply she studied it carefully for reference when she would make his new one? How thoughtful!

“No. Comments.” Odysseus looked and sounded close to blushing.

“You seem merry. I’m glad that you enjoyed your bath. I do apologize that I have yet to have anything to truly fit you. This outfit’s also easier for you to move around here in paradise” Calypso said.

“It’s well crafted and beautiful in its colors but, I don’t usually dress like this. I feel overdressed and somehow also underdressed.” Odysseus partly enjoyed his bath as his face changed to a more sad one as he looked at Calypso’s hands full of ingredients and food desperately. In truth he never fashioned himself a showy or extravagant king in Ithaca. At most his and Penelope’s outfits were always of the finest materials but never seeking to flaunt their status or appear exceptionally lavish. More importantly he was very hungry and he hoped Calypso could focus on that. It wasn’t likely she was going to taint the food with magic like Circe at this point and even if she could, it was a risk his dying thirst and heavy hunger would chance on.

“You are calling my work overdressed? Good to know that I’ve been in fashion all this time without any inspirations in mind. Now, I’m ready to prepare our meal. Would you wait at the table sweetheart?” Calypso made another bid for an endearing nickname for Odysseus as she went to get her cooking tools and prepare the hot water to cook the fish.

“I will Calypso. As for calling me ‘sweetheart’ I don’t think that’s a nickname I’m comfortable with, I'm afraid.” Odysseus walked forward towards the table, ignoring the small discomfort around his chest but appreciating the roominess for his legs at any rate. Meanwhile Calypso’s feelings were once again comically hurt by yet another affectionate nickname being shot down by him. She decided he wasn’t stuck-up exactly but he was very picky.

Upon late afternoon, the meal was done and Odysseus had felt as though he hadn’t tasted anything this good in years. Somehow it was all so simple and yet perhaps because of all the free time she had to spare as an immortal in paradise, Calypso had understood and mastered the culinary offerings here. Seasonings, spices, mixes, and presentation were all balanced and all of it was satisfying to him. For a moment the sullen thoughts and exhaustion that were still weighing on his mind melted away into satisfaction. Notably, after she presented the meal, she left with a large hydria in hand and returned shortly with the freshest water he had ever known in 12 years to thoroughly make sure he was hydrated. It spoke a lot to him that Calypso was a charitable goddess going out of this way to make sure all his needs were tended to. It made him forget about the awkward outfit she had picked out for him.

Although she did stare at him very fondly as and after he was done eating.

“Do I have something on my face?” Odysseus asked.

“On the contrary. You’ve gobbled everything up on your plate and drank everything in your cup. Mortals have big appetites apparently. I find it adorable.” It also reminded her of feasts with her siblings and parents but she didn’t want Odysseus to know about her exact god heritage yet.

“It’s not like I eat so eagerly regularly. It’s just the long and intense journey I’ve been on that made me behave so gluttonous in front of a goddess… It really was amazing though.” Odysseus defended himself a little bit out of flustered pride. To him being called ‘adorable’ seemed dehumanizing coming from a god. Sort of like how Athena sometimes seemed to take pride in his feats less like they were achieved by Odysseus himself and more from how it was an accomplishment from someone under her godly mentorship.

“Oh of course. I know the circumstances behind you being famished are unique Odysseus. What matters for me is there’s nothing more amazing  than being able to simply share a meal I’ve prepared with someone else for the first time. It doesn’t take very long for a deity to eventually learn how to cook well but I’m sure you’ve put a great deal of effort into recipes and understanding your many foods over decades.” Yet her curiosity and interest was infectious.

“I’d probably agree except I’m not actually that much of a cook. I only know the basics… Pol…” Odysseus’s eyes closed suddenly and his body language seemed to pull away from Calypso. Calypso could tell she must’ve hit some sort of mental weight involving this ‘Pol’. So she did the most sensible thing possible.

“You can tell me about Pol and whoever else has shaped your destiny later. It’s early but given everything you’ve gone through today and previously, I’d recommend you get some rest. I can work on your chiton in the meantime.” She spared him having to divulge any details. 

Odysseus looked relieved. He had yawned a lot waiting for Calypso to return from gathering the food and at this point he was definitely ready for a siesta even with some streaks of sunlight illuminating the cavern walls (He had to admit this was easily the best cave he had ever been in). Typically he had never slept early in a day on Ithaca, not unless on rare occasions Penelope really wanted to sleep in after a particularly lively festival or busy day. Several times this had happened before Telemachus was born and twice had been after he was…

I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now, Odysseus sighed.

Which then turned into a yawn. So he quickly replied,

“I’d very much like that. Thanks Calypso. Maybe you are the goddess of hospitality?” He offered a playful guess to her domain as he got up from his seat.

“...” Now it was Calypso’s turn to have her body language change as she awkwardly brushed her hair back. Odysseus didn’t particularly notice her reaction this time as he walked towards the canopied bed in a daze. Then he ungracefully plopped onto its inviting landscape, face and chest first before getting comfortable under the covers. It made Calypso smile and get her mind off having to explain to him she had no such domain.

“Pleasant dreams Odysseus.” She wished him as she started cleaning up after their meal. She heard Odysseus mumble something she couldn’t make out fully and minutes after as she prepared herself for tidying up, heard him snore surprisingly loudly. Yet peacefully. Like the sound of someone who was happily indulging in sleep without a care in the world. That was surely a mortal privilege rather than an immortal’s privilege. Calypso wondered if this breakthrough in her life would mean she could finally dream of something distinct and wondrous again. Like when she slept side by side with her parents. She then hummed to herself as she would clean around the house, empty the fountain water and replace it, put bandages around the cut on her arm that Odysseus left from the misunderstanding, and then finally examine Odysseus’s old chiton. 

It certainly seemed like it had been well-crafted by someone talented and of a very nice material as well. It was like the garments Rhea herself would wear before her disappearance amongst the Titans back in the day. Yet it was made by mortal hands so it stood to reason that maybe this person was the ‘dear’ in Odysseus’s life? Pol perhaps?

“I’m looking forward to this challenge.” She smirked as she declared this to herself. A double meaning of both getting her first men’s garment done successfully and finding out Odysseus’s story. So for the rest of the afternoon she started her work on Odysseus’s chiton . Regrettably she realized it might take longer than a few days…but at least it was a decent start and she had an idea of what fabrics to use. The color would likely remain a default white as she had an odd feeling Odysseus was not one for colors like she was. As the glow of Selene illuminated the cave in the night, Calypso knew she could not work on it any further. She took an exhale of exhaustion and realized she did feel quite tired. Yet she had one more thing she absolutely had to do as she gazed outside up towards the night sky through one of the natural windows of the cave. 

Normally she would walk up to the cliffside to talk to him but she refused to leave Odysseus unattended and alone on his first night on Ogygia by any means. Of course she also didn’t want to wake Odysseus up as she knew there was a way she could reach her father’s ears. It didn’t matter if her song came from within her cavern and was carried out through an opening in her cavern.

“Father holding the moon.”

“The greatest news I bring tonight.” Her voice was a hushed lullaby. A finger caressing the petals of a blossom. The feeling when Odysseus would give her smiles no matter how seldom they came on this day.

“Father holding the moon.”

“Destiny decided to make things right.” She clasped her hands tightly together in prayer. This was not just her telling her father of the miracle. It was a hope he’d bless this miracle as much as he possibly could from his station.

“Someone arrived today. Someone arrived today.”

“On my island he will stay. Can’t wait to talk and play.”

“He’s hurting inside. He’s hurting inside.”

“We can mend one another, connect instead of smother.”

“It only took 100 years… lifting my fears” She closed her eyes solemnly.

“Father of my life.”

“My wish has been granted.”

“Father of my life.”

“I’ll take good care of these seeds long since planted.”

“So all I ask, so all I ask.”

“Is for your love. Strength. Endurance. Patience.”

“To hold Odysseus’s hand. The awakening of a land.”

“I’ll always remember this and promise to be gracious…”

“As my dream’s cooooooome trueeeeeee…” As her notes were drawn out in a peaceful yet powerful display of her control, she would bow her head and then get up. Her little lullaby was over and it marked the day’s end as well.

She walked over to her bedside with an almost childishly gleeful smile on her face. This was the first time she had someone aside from her in rest like she really had been married to the love of her life rather than just with family. She got under the covers and placed herself next to Odysseus, being careful not to disturb him from his slumber. As the strongest being in the cave she also made sure she was facing the entrance so that she could get up and defend Odysseus from any potential invasion (As completely unrealistic as that possibility was nowadays). The feeling of brushing against him ever so slightly meant that he would still be real to Calypso tomorrow morning. He would not be leaving her and he was no illusion. He was a genuine mortal friend of hers now and as a new friend of his, she’d have to do her part. To help him recover from his ordeals. It was this joy of the full revelation that let Calypso fall into sleep far more easily than she ever could recall doing previously. Letting her hopefully finally experience dreams again the way she sang about them.

 Stirring… 

To Be Continued…