Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Acacius still remembered the day his dad had disappeared. Maybe disappeared wasn’t the right word; bailed on him, ditched him, abandoned him with a father he barely knew. Took the first chance he got to finally rid himself of him.

One day he’d been there. The next he’d been gone. When Acacius had needed him more than ever. He’d been sick with a disease of the lung at the time, the kind that had killed almost everyone that had been struck by it. When he’d cried out to his dad in pain and in fear and he hadn’t been there. He’d always been there before. What had changed so suddenly?

He’d fallen asleep thinking he was going to die, and woken up feeling completely healthy. He’d been happy, getting up to see his dad and tell him he was feeling better. Only to find the palace in chaos and the king yelling at guards. Upon seeing him, he had taken him into his arms and just cried.

Acacius had asked so many times where his dad was. Odysseus never answered him. Eventually he had come to the conclusion that he’d run away. What else could it have been? He’d finally gotten sick of taking care of such a needy and ill child and dumped him where he could be raised by his other father. His other father he had known only days, he hadn’t known existed his entire life. And suddenly he was raising him.

That wasn’t true either, Odysseus never raised him. He said he was his father and told him what to do or not to do, but he didn’t raise him. He had nannies do that for him, servants he paid to raise his own son because he couldn’t be bothered to.

Acacius was told to respect his father, to be grateful he gave him so much. Acacius couldn’t help but feel resentment.

Telemachus was a great brother. Truly. He’d been more of a father figure to Acacius than Odysseus had ever been. He’d taken him under his wing, taught and trained him how to be a prince. Going from a nobody, raised in isolation and the wilderness, to being a prince. Strange how life could twist.

Acacius sat up with a hearty yawn and stretched. Another day. Another round of the same old. He got dressed and picked through the breakfast a servant had brought him.

He went to his lessons and tried to pass the time by drawing his teacher and his stupidly big nose and ears. He got a few smacks on his fingers and a promise to talk to his father when his sketches were discovered.

He ate a light lunch alone.

He ditched his archery instructor to wander around town. He liked chatting with the people, he liked being among them. Liked it a lot better than being in the stuffy palace all day. He ate half a sausage a woman pressed into his hand with a wink and put the other half into his satchel for later. He wandered down to the harbor and watched the bustle of merchants coming and going. How he wished to sneak onto a boat and just… leave. Leave all of this behind. Start fresh somewhere new where no one knew his face and associated him with their bitter old king. Where he could just live and be himself. No more boring lessons, no more training, no more Odysseus.

As the sun was setting, Acacius slowly made his way back to the palace. Kicking a pebble, he didn’t pay much attention to the path in front of him. He wasn’t looking forward to the lecture he was surely about to get from his father. It was fine, he was used to it. He would hang his head and say yes, father and I’m sorry, father and be done with it. Until the next day.

A shadow in the perephery of his vision. Acacius froze and looked around. He was in the richer part of town, near the palace. The streets were cleaner and emptier, the people living here didn’t need to be out in the evening.

Acacius saw the movement again, in the shadow of a large bush. Something small. He bent down in an attempt to see better.
A dirty little thing of a dog was hiding under the foliage, shaking. It’s eyes were huge as it stared at him.

„Hey there.“ Acacius whispered, carefully reaching out.

The puppy growled and bared its teeth at him.

„It’s okay, not gonna harm you.“ He smiled. He kept his hand just out of reach, should the dog decide to sniff it.

It looked at him, clearly frightened.

Acacius felt bad for the little thing. It couldn’t be more than a few weeks old and was already too thin. It’s fur was so dirty and matted, it was almost invisible in the fast approaching darkness.

Remembering the half eaten sausage, he slowly reached into his satchel, keeping an eye on the dog, hoping not to scare it away. „Easy, boy.“ He whispered. „Here, I got something for you.“

Slowly he reached out, and presented the food.

The dog eyes him cautiously, torn between fear and hunger. Eventually the hunger won and he scooted forward bit by bit until he could snatch the sausage and retreat again.

Acacius smiled. „There’s a good boy. Good job.“

The dog devoured it in a few bites and looked to Acacius for more.

„I’m sorry, that was all I had on me.“ Acacius said softly. „But if you come with me, I can get you more!“

As if understanding, the dog scooted forward a bit to sniff on his hand.

Slowly as not to frighten him, Acacius moved his fingers. The dog sniffed them, then licked them.

Acacius chuckled and reached out slowly with his other hand. „Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.“

The dog moved closer, still shaking. He was probably cold, the winter nights in Ithica could get quite cool. Nothing like Acacius had known growing up, but still a temperature one was more comfortable inside in.

The puppy flinched when Acacius touched his flank, but didn’t run away. „That’s good, good boy.“ Acacius whispered as he carefully pulled the dog closer until he could scoop him up into his arms. „Oh dear, you sure do smell. Nothing a nice warm bath won’t fix.“ He carefully pet the top of his head.

Whining and still shaking, the dog pressed himself against the teenager, likely searching for warmth.

Smiling, Acacius got to his feet and began walking towards the palace. 

Odysseus was looking angry when he stepped through the door. He was late for dinner. The king insisted that his sons eat with him every night. „Where were you?“

Instead of answering, Acacius held out the puppy. „Look what I found! I’m gonna name him Errare!“

„You brought a street dog into the palace?“

„Isn’t he the cutest?“

„You are going to bring him right back to where you found him.“

Acacius cradled the dog close. „I won’t.“

„You are not keeping that dog.“ Odysseus said with finality.

„Dad,“ Telemachus interrupted them, „He’s been asking for a dog forever, let him have this.“

„No.“ Odysseus stood. „I do not allow you to keep it.“

„Why not?“ Acacius argued, hiding the shaking puppy in the folds of his cloak.

„Because I said so!“

„Dad.“ Telemachus tried to put a hand on his father’s shoulder, but was shaken off.

„And because you’re the king, is that it?“ Acacius shot back.

„Because I am your father!“

Acacius scoffed. „That doesn’t mean anything to me!“

Odysseus took a few steps towards him. „I have given you everything since-„ His voice broke and he froze.

Acacius stared at him unblinking. „Since my dad ran away? Yeah well kicking your eight year old bastard to the streets would not have been a good look, your majesty.“

„Do not speak ill of your father!“ Odysseus thundered. „You know nothing!“

„Because you never tell me anything! What happened to him? Why did he leave?“ Acacius pressed on. „Why won’t you ever talk about him?“

„This discussion is over. You will put the dog back outside and then you will go to bed without dinner.“

„I won’t!“

With a huff Odysseus quickly stepped to his son and tried to snatch the dog away. „If you won’t do it, then I will!“

The puppy yelped in fear and pain as Odysseus tried to pull him from Acacius’ arms.

„Stop it! You’re hurting him!“ Acacius yelled, trying to turn his back to his father.

But Odysseus was quicker and stronger. In just one hand he held the puppy above his head and glared at his son. „Go to your room. Now.“

„I hate you!“ Acacius screamed and ran from the room, slamming the door after him. 

Acacius didn’t look up when someone knocked on his door. Still he wiped the tears from his cheeks and the snot from his nose. He had no lock for the door, if someone wanted to enter, they would enter.

Another knock and Telemachus called softly: „Hey, can I come in?“

Telemachus was nice, he had always been kind to Acacius. But he was still their fathers son, the actual heir to the throne. Even he could not defy their father whenever he pleased.

„Fine.“ Acacius grumbled as he sat up.

Telemachus entered and closed he door behind him. He was carrying a tray. „Here, snuck you something from the kitchen. It’s no full dinner, but I figured it’s better than nothing.“

Despite his mood, Acacius smiled. Telemachus was always looking out for him. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been sent to bed without food. „Thank you.“ He muttered.

„Anything for you.“ He sat next to him and ruffled his hair. „I managed to talk dad into letting the puppy stay. He’ll likely be trained as a hunting dog.“

Acacius nodded as he scarfed down his meager dinner. At least the poor thing wouldn’t end up back on the street. And Acacius could go visit and hunt with him. It wasn’t the dog to cuddle and play with he’d wanted for so long. Dad had once promised him a dog once he was old enough. Dad would have let him keep the puppy. Too bad he wasn’t here. Too bad he’d ditched him years ago.

„Don’t be too mad with him, he’s just…“ Telemachus trailed off, then sighed. „No, he’s being a dick.“

Acacius snorted. „You can say that again.“

„After my mom and then your dad, he’s… he’s been through a lot.“

Acacius didn’t answer. He knew his father had been through so much in his lifetime. A decade long war, away from his home and family, Polites taking their son and running away, his wife dying, Polites disappearing, leaving him to raise their son on his own. None of it made his behavior acceptable.

„He just can’t bear to loose you too.“ Telemachus said softly, placing an arm around his younger brother.

„Yeah, well he already did.“

Telemachus was silent for a long time while Acacius licked the plates clean. When the dishes were stacked and the try put away to be collected by a servant, he spoke up again: „Ace, there- there is something you should know.“

Acacius looked at him with a frown. „What?“

„Dad had me swear never to tell you, but… you have a right to know. You are old enough.“

Acacius searched his face for mirth, but found only seriousness. His mouth felt a little drier, he didn’t like seeing Telemachus so serious.

„Your dad didn’t just disappear. He left behind a letter.“

Acacius sat up straighter. In six years of living at the palace, he had never once heard about a letter. „What did it say?“ He inquired.

„I don’t know.“ Telemachus admitted. „Dad keeps it locked in a chest under his bed.“ He looked at him intently. „Whatever you do, do not sneak into his bedchamber and look into that chest.“

Acacius couldn’t help but chuckle. „Of course. I promise.“ A liar. Just like his father. 

With his heart pounding, Acacius opened the door to his fathers bed camber. He had lied to the guard that he had some documents the king had asked him to put into his rooms and he’d let him through without even glancing at the blank pages he was carrying around. He had hours until his father would return, still he didn’t want to linger any longer than absolutely necessary. If he got caught snooping, being sent to bed without dinner would be the least of his problems.

He had rarely ever seen this room, never mind been alone in it. There was a small table and chairs, a divan by the balcony. Two portraits hung side by side. One of the late queen, his fathers wife. Acacius had never met her, but the staff still talked about her. She’d died from the disease he had miraculously survived. Beside it hung a smaller portrait. Polites smiled down at him like he did in his memories. Acacius grimaced and looked away. If his dad had left a letter, he would have left a reason. Why not tell him? Why keep him in the dark?

The bed took up the most space, carved from a living olive tree. Only one side was slept in, the other kept pristine.

„Alright.“ Acacius dropped the pages onto the unused bed side and got on his hands and knees, crawling along the bed, searching for a hidden chest. He didn’t have so search long, near the head end of the bed he found a piece of wood that was discoloured, as if hands had pried at it many times over years and years. It took him a few attempts to open the compartment. When he finally managed, he pulled out a chest about the size of his hand. This was all that remained? This was all father had kept?

The chest was locked, of course it was. Acacius simply broke the lock open with practices ease, it was old and rusted and didn’t put up much resistance. Inside he found a ratty old piece of fabric, torn and stained. He found a lock of hair, carefully bound with a red piece of string; it looked just like his own. He found a golden bracelet that was way too big for his wrist. On the bottom, he found the letter. It was well worn, the edges soft and torn. Acacius didn’t recognize the handwriting. He did recognize the name that was signed beneath it.

Polites

Unable to breathe, he traced his fingers over it. This was what his dad had left behind. This is what had been hidden from him for six years. Tense, he began to read.

My love,
please forgive me for this. Do not come looking for me, I will likely be too far to find. We both know Acacius will not survive. Not without divine intervention. I plan to make a deal with the god of the sea, if all goes well, he will trade my life for our sons health. If all goes well, you will not see me again. Please understand this is something I have to do. Please keep me in your heart as Acacius grows. Please raise him with all the love I can not give him. Please know I love you both more than I could ever express with words. 
Polites

Acacius stared at the lines, reading them over and over. His dad hadn’t abandoned him. He had sacrificed himself for him. His miraculous recovery wasn’t so miraculous after all. A life for a life. His dad for him.

Acacius couldn’t stifle the sob. His dad had willingly handed himself over to the god of the sea. For him. To save his life. Acacius knew enough of his dads life, he knew how the had been abducted and assaulted by the very god he described. How he had several brothers born of rape. And this was the god his dad had sacrificed himself to. For him.

He was so deep in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the door opening. He heard the footsteps coming towards him, he wasn’t fast enough to hide the letter before it was snatched from his hands.

Startled Acacius looked up and immediately froze. „Father, I-„ He tried to explain.

Odysseus’ gaze was downright murderous. „Get out.“ He said, his voice low.

„Why did you never tell me?“ Acacius confronted him, getting to his feet. „Dad never abandoned me, why did you let me think-„

„I said, get out!“ Odysseus shouted at him.

In all the years living here, Acacius had never seen his father this angry. Never once had he actually feared him. Instinctually, he looked away. „Yes, father.“ He muttered and hurried from the room. He didn’t know if it was his imagination, but for just a moment, he thought he heard sobs coming from the bedchamber.

Back in his own room, lying on his own bed and staring at the ceiling, Acacius couldn’t get the letter out of his head. Why had his father never told him? Why keep this from him? Why let him believe his dad had abandoned him? It didn’t protect him. It had only made him resentful.

He looked to the window and the ocean beyond. His dad was somewhere out there. He was sure of it. Somewhere out there his dad was kept prisoner by a god and missing him just as he was missing him now.

Before he could think better of it, Acacius began to collect clothes and supplies, stuffing them into the biggest satchel he owned. He put on his warmest cloak and stuffed whatever valuables he could into a separate bag. What could he trade for his dad? He didn’t know, but he was going to find out and get it. No matter what.

With a deep breath, Acacius gripped the belt of the satchel and bag and looked out over the shimmering ocean. „Don’t worry, dad.“ He whispered to himself. „I’m coming for you.“

Chapter Text

The room was beautiful. Large, spacious. The floor was entirely marble as were the elaborate pillars with their golden capitals. The walls were covered in rich tapestries, the ceiling a gallery of the most beautiful art. The bed was softer than anything any mortal had ever called their own, the sheets finer than any fabric known to them. Every piece of furniture was masterfully carved from flawless wood and decorated with brass, bronze and gold. The mirror hanging from the wall was immaculate, clearly crafted by divinity for no mortal could ever achieve such perfection. There were multiple divans arranged around a small table, they were all impeccably crafted. Further away was a pool, large enough to fit ten people. The water was always warm. There was no hearth in the room, still the temperature was pleasant.

The room was beautiful. Filled with riches and luxury not even the wealthiest of mortals would ever see in their lifetime.

There was one door and five windows. The door was locked and guarded. The windows were kept shuttered, there wasn’t anything to see outside except the blackness of the oceanic abyss anyways. 

Polites hated it. The marble floor was cold under his bare feet, he wasn’t allowed shoes. The sheets were so smooth, it felt wrong on his skin. Everything in this room felt too smooth, too perfect. There was not a scratch on any of the furniture, not one darned hole in the fabrics, not one childish scribble on the walls. It felt wrong. This was a room to look at, not to live in.

Not like what he was doing could be considered living. Existing, at most. It had been his choice. He didn’t regret it. That didn’t mean he was happy with the result.

The door opened. Polites didn’t bother raising his head. He knew the routine. Nymphs that didn’t even look at him brought him his meals, placing the tray of rich and exotic foods onto the low table before quickly leaving the room again. They would return some time later to carry away the dishes and untouched food.

It was hard to keep track of time down here. No sunlight reached the abyss in which Poseidons palace was built. Bottle like lanterns lit the room and could be doused whenever he pleased. He mostly lay on the stripped bed and slept. When he couldn’t sleep anymore, he stared at the walls or ceiling, trying to remember what warmth felt like.

The smell of the food made his stomach growl. Fish soup. Fresh bread. How they kept a fire going to bake it was beyond him.

He kept lying there, trying to ignore his stomach clenching in hunger. When he couldn’t take it, he sat up with a quiet sigh and walked over to the table. He sat with his legs closed on a divan and picked up the bowl with soup. Despite this not being the first time he’d been put into a female body, there were still things he was getting used to. The first time he’d been pregnant for the entire time. Turned out existing as a woman was a very different experience than being pregnant as a woman. What was this life he was leading?

He drank a few sips of the broth. It was rich and flavorful, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. It did not cure the ache in his heart. It did not stop the tears from falling. He missed his home. He missed his son. He missed his love. How he wished to see them, just one more time. Just one last time.

The door opened again. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Putting down the bowl slowly, he took a deep breath to steady himself. „Lord Poseidon.“

The god came walking up to him with a smug smile on his lips. „Beloved Servestia.“

Polites couldn’t help but shudder when the god ran his hands down his body.

Poseidon leaned in and kissed the shell of his ear. „I want to fuck you. Right here.“ He whispered.

Polites didn’t put up a fight. There was no use. The god could overpower him easily even if he tried. Not like he ever would. Not with his sons life on the line. He’d offered himself; his body, in return for Acacius’ health. The second he went back on the deal, so could Poseidon. Polites didn’t dare oppose him.

His sweet boy, his’ and Odysseus’ son, a child they could have never anticipated and still loved more than their own lives. Evidently, as Polites had given up his own in return for his’. He prayed Acacius was well, that he could live a good life with his father and half-brother.

Poseidon pinned him down on the divan, covering his neck and throat with bites and kisses. He removed his clothes with ease, tossing them aside without care. He admired the body he had sculpted, had given his prisoner; perfection in every aspect, down to the curls between his legs. Poseidon buried his face there, running his tongue along the slick folds.

Polites hated that his body reacted, that he had to bite down the moan threatening to spill from his lips, that his hips buckled at the stimulation.

Poseidon sat back with a smirk, licking his lips. „Have you settled in well? It has been a few weeks now, hasn’t it?“

Polites shrugged. He couldn’t distinguish the days from nights down here. He didn’t know if it had been days or years.

„Are the accommodations not to your liking?“ He asked like he cared.

„They are beautiful.“ Polites answered quickly.

Poseidon hummed as he looked around. „Maybe a bit empty. We should change that.“ He looked back to Polites with a grin. „What did you name the last one?“

„Cleon.“ Polites whispered. „Can I see him?“

„No. You would only turn him soft like the serpent.“

Polites had to fight to stop the tears at the mere mention of his first son. „His name was Syllo.“

Poseidon waved it away. „Whatever.“ He lifted Polites’ left leg by the hollow of his knee, spreading them apart.

Polites closed his eyes and let it happen. He knew the routine. 

The first sign was the nausea. Then the headaches. Polites knew he was pregnant even before he was examined.

„Your mistress is expecting.“ The nymph that had been poking about his abdomen concluded as she stepped back.

Poseidon looked delighted. Polites threw up over the side of the bed. It had only been a matter of time until this inevitable conclusion. The amount of times Poseidon was visiting him, it was a surprise it hadn’t happened sooner.

As soon as they were alone again, Poseidon had his way with him on the bed. He was almost gentle. Kissing his belly and praising the new life within. 

Over the next weeks, Poseidon acted almost loving towards him. Brought him gifts, sat next to him as he ate and even slept at his side sometimes. Polites tried his best to keep going as normal. It would be over soon enough. In a few months he’d squeeze out another monstrosity, be praised for delivering a son and have his baby immediately taken from him, never to be seen again.

And in another few month he’d be pregnant again and the circle would begin again. Again and again until the god would finally be satisfied or until he could finally die. Never seeing his home again. Never holding his son again. Never kissing his love again.

Poseidon left with an annoyed grunt as Polites cried into his too soft pillow. 

The child was still just a bump in his abdomen when he woke with cramping and bleeding one day. He simply continued lying there and hoped it would be over soon.

By the time he was brought breakfast, he was lying on his side, arms wrapped around his middle and shaking from the pain. A healer rushed to help him. After that things got blurry. He mostly remembered the many hands on his body, the strong smell of blood and the loud urgent voices all around him.

„Wake up.“ A slap across his face.

Polites flinched as he was rudely awoken. His body was sore, he felt lightheaded. The room was darkened. The smell of blood still lingered in the air. Poseidon was standing at his bedside, looking furious.

Polites hummed and looked away.

Poseidon grasped his face and forced him to look back at him. „What happened?“ He hissed.

Polites shrugged. „It’s gone.“

„Did you do it?“

He shook his head. „These things can happen.“ He wasn’t sad about it. He mostly felt numb. Maybe a little glad to have it gone. That he could have peace for a little while longer. It was only a matter of time until it would be replaced. 

He was given time to recover, medicine to help him heal. He didn’t speak for days. The nymphs that brought his food didn’t look at him. The healers that examined him and gave him medicine never spoke to him. He often wondered if this could even be considered living.

He overheard the healers speaking to Poseidon about his condition. The only way he could find out anything. Apparently the isolation, irregular eating and sleeping had made him sick enough to cause the miscarriage. „Mortals are fragile.“ The healer explained. „They need stability and routine.“

After that day, the lights in his room dimmed and brightened in regular intervals, mimicking the rising and falling of the sun. The nymphs that brought his food always stayed and made sure he ate everything. Mostly there were three or four of them and they chatted amongst themselves, throwing quick glances towards him as if asking him to join. He didn’t. He had no opinion on the migration of fish, the unusual warm currents on this side of the abyss or the latest in hair styles. These nymphs were here because they had to be, not because they wanted to be. He ate quickly so they could leave quickly.

Poseidon began visiting him again a few weeks later. He kept him on his hands and knees. Polites was glad not to have to see his face.

It began with a headache and sore muscles. He was in denial when the healers pronounced him expecting again, when Poseidon became sweet towards him again, when he was treated gentler again; until his belly began to swell noticeably.

The pregnancy was exhausting. He was soon bedridden as even things as getting up and moving around were deigned too risky. The nymphs that brought his food now gathered around his bed while he ate, fawning and cooing over his growing belly and the newest child of their master.

Polites tried his best to distance himself from the life growing inside of him. He refused to get attached to something that would be ripped away from him in a matter of weeks. Even when it moved and stretched beneath his skin, he forced himself not to caress his belly, not to whisper sweet words to the child.

The delivery was the worst of all. There was no one to hold his hands, no one to wipe his brow with a cool cloth, no one to hold him and encourage him, tell him he was doing well, it would be over soon. Just a crowd of healers gathered at the foot of the bed.

He clawed into the mattress as he screamed and cried and vigorously pushed to get the thing out of him. His throat was raw and burning, his face wet with tears and sweat when the healers finally pulled it out.

Polites collapsed into the pillow, sobbing and shaking as the child wailed. It was carried away before he even had the chance to glance it.

A few healers stayed behind to patch him up, give him water and medicine and chastising him for pushing too hard and injuring himself. Polites hadn’t even noticed, everything from below his chest to his thighs felt like one big raw wound. He simply closed his eyes and let the exhaustion pull him under. 

„A son!“ Poseidon exclaimed happily when he visited next. „A beautiful healthy son!“

He surely wouldn’t be as happy if it had been anything else. Polites still wondered if he’d delivered something even vaguely human. Still he asked with a voice rough from screaming: „Can I see him?“

„No. He will be raised by a nursemaid.“

As if Poseidon would ever allow him anything more than what he needed to produce more sons. Polites vaguely remembered hearing that a mother who didn’t nurse could get pregnant again quicker than a mother who did. Having his child taken away immediately after birth would likely yield the same result. Anything to breed him more efficiently.

„However, I have a surprise for you.“ Poseidon announced with a smile.

Polites looked at him flatly. A surprise from his captor, he couldn’t imagine it being anything outstanding. Maybe a special desert, maybe some exotic soap, maybe some more time with the nymphs, maybe a sex toy only Poseidon would enjoy.

He was actually surprised when the door opened and a nymph stepped through, guiding along a small child by the hand. He couldn’t be more than four, dressed in a rich tunic. His legs were bent backwards and ended in hooves. His hair was dark and curly. There was only one eye below his forehead. Dark red iris. Slit pupil.

For a moment Polites felt like he’d forgotten to breathe. He knew that eye, had seen it when it had first opened to the world eight years ago, when the child had been a babe he could hold in his arms. „Cleon.“ He breathed.

„You are not to be alone with him. Platanea will be accompanying him everywhere. For now, you can see him once a week. If you behave, we can talk about more frequent visitations.“ Poseidon instructed, looking at Polites sternly.

Polites wasn’t listening. He was still staring at Cleon, his son, his baby he had taken from him eight years ago. „My boy.“ He whispered, unable to stop the tears. „Why are you so small still?“

The nymph picked him up and carried him over. The child hid his face into her shoulder.

„Cyclops’ mature different than mortals.“ Poseidon explained as the nymph stopped to his bedside. „Come on, Cleon, say hello to your mother.“

The child slowly moved again to look at Polites. His eye was wide and fearful.

Despite his own pain, Polites made himself smile softly. „Hello, my sweet.“ He whispered. „You don’t remember me, do you?“

Cleon quickly turned his face away again.

It hurt. Of course Polites knew Cleon wouldn’t remember him, ripped away from his arms when he had been only days old. Cleon didn’t see him as his father, he saw him as a stranger. It still hurt to see his own son be afraid of him. „That’s ok.“ Polites muttered. He reached out carefully. „Is it okay if I touch you?“

Cleon still clung to the nymph and didn’t look at him. She firmly detached him from herself and placed him onto the bed. Not knowing what else to do, Cleon sat there and looked down towards his hooves.

Biting down a pained noise, Polites moved a little closer to his son. „Look at that, you got my hair too.“ He smiled, reaching out carefully to brush over the ends of his curls. „Just like your brother.“ He had to force down the sob at the mere mention of Acacius. How old was he now? Did he remember him still?

Cleon finally looked at him with a confused expression. „But he has no hair.“

It took Polites a moment to understand Cleon was talking about his newborn brother, not his twin. Cleon had seen his newborn brother, likely shown off to him by his father. When Polites hadn’t even been allowed to catch a glimpse of him.

Polites swallowed heavily. He tried to remind himself not to feel for the child he’d just delivered. He would never know his face, never know his name. The child would never know his father. Maybe it was for the better. Maybe it would hurt less. He tried to smile. „Your other brother, your twin Ac-„

Before he could continue, Poseidon snatched up the child and held him facing away. His glare was angry. The message was clear. „That’s enough for today. You can see him again next week.“ He carried him away before Polites could even try to protest.

Over his shoulder, Cleon looked at him with his eye wide and inquisitive.

The next time Cleon was allowed to visit, the nymph was carrying him. Poseidon wasn’t with them. Still Polites didn’t dare mention Acacius. He had no doubt Platanea would report everything he did and said back to her master.

Still recovering from the delivery, Polites stayed in bed. Cleon sat on his legs and curiously compared his hooves to his fathers feet. He didn’t talk, but sometimes he would look back and stare at him for a few seconds before resuming his task of counting his toes. A few times Polites wiggled his toes, causing Cleon to startle and then laugh. Funnily enough, his female body had much more control over each individual toe than his male body ever had.

Cleons laugh was the most beautiful sound Polites had heard in months. At the end of the day, he was just a child, just a boy curious about the world around him. Even if he had a monstrous appearance, Polites knew well enough that didn’t mean anything.

„Did you know you had an older brother?“ He asked softly.

Platanea shoot him a stern look. Cleon looked at him interested.

„His name was Syllo and he was a mighty sea serpent.“ Polites continued and wiggled his toes in a wave like motion.

Cleon gasped. „Is he big?“

„Very big! He would not even fit in that pool over there.“

„That is very big!“

Polites smiled and suddenly he was back in that tiny leaky cabin in the mountains of Epirus, holding Acacius in his arms and telling tales of his family. He couldn’t help it, he began sobbing.

Cleon scooted closer and put his tiny hands on his cheeks. „Don’t cry. I can ask father to make the pool bigger.“

Despite the tears, Polites managed to smile at his son. Looked like he didn’t even need to ruin him, Cleon was already a soul as kind as his brothers. 

As promised, once a week after lunch Platanea brought Cleon to his room and they had a good hour to play together. While Cleon might have been small for his age and only about half of it in development, he was undeniably strong. The only other cyclops Polites had ever encountered had been Polyphemus; who had been twice the size of a normal man and strong enough to move boulders his own weight. Cleon, despite barely reaching to his waist, could pick him up easily and carry him around.

They often sat together and Polites told him stories. Old legends he had been told by his own father, embellished stories of his life and the war, completely made up tales. He had to work hard to capture the boys attention, if he wasn’t completely immersed into the story, he would look around for something else to do or just wander off. Luckily, he’d already had plenty of experience on how to keep a toddler entertained. From his own sisters to lookin after Telemachus to raising Acacius, he knew plenty how to pull their attention if it threatened to wander.

When they sat on the floor near the table, Cleon in his lap and eating snacks while listening to his stories; Polites could almost delude himself into thinking things could be alright like this. 

Poseidon still visited him regularly. From Polites performing oral favors to offering himself up on whatever surface and position, he did everything he could to keep Poseidons favor. Anything to be able to keep seeing his son.

Poseidon always had him below him, always in the subservient position, always the receiver.

Polites was lying on his back, one leg slung over Poseidons shoulder, gripping onto the sheets and trying not to whimper at the rough penetration.

Over him Poseidon grunted as he thrust into him again and again, not caring for his partners pleasure. He hummed as one of his hands wandered from his waist to his belly. „You’re ready for another.“ He decided after a moment.

Polites closed his eyes and tried to fight the tears. Anything to keep Poseidons favor. Anything for his son. 

„Why is your belly getting so big?“ Cleon asked as he tried to wrap his arms around him.

„Because your brother is growing in there.“ Polites forced himself to smile and brushed through Cleons hair.

„How did he get in there?“

Polites looked to Platanea for help. She only stared back at him. She never spoke, only ever observed them. „Well, you see-„ He licked his lips, trying to find the words on how to explain the process to a child so young, „your father planted a seed in my belly and now it is growing.“

Cleon looked confused. „Is my brother a plant?“

Despite himself, Polites laughed. „No, many things can grow from seeds.“

„Like plants and brothers.“ Cleon nodded. He lifted his tunic and poked at his belly button. „If I put a seed in my belly, will I get another brother?“

„No, my sweet.“ Polites gently pulled the tunic down again. „Only women can do that.“ He knew he was lying, sadly so did Cleon.

„But my Zeus also grew brothers, you said so yourself!“ Cleon argued fiercely. „Why do you lie?“

Polites sighed and dropped his hands. „You’re right, I’m sorry.“

Cleon hit his arm. „Don’t lie!“

Polites flinched at the pain, reflexively curling to protect his belly. „Cleon!“

Immediately Platanea stepped in to pick the toddler up. Cleon screeched and flailed, but the nymph held him firm.

„Don’t- don’t hurt him.“ Polites insisted, reaching towards them. „He didn’t mean it.“

Platanea simply carried him off. The door was closed behind them. 

Over the next weeks and months it became clear that while Cleon had the capacity to be kind and gentle, he also had a temper. A bad one. The moment something didn’t sit right with him he would begin screaming and throwing punches, which at his strength were dangerous to Polites.

Polites tried everything he could, explaining how his behaviour hurt him, showing him the bruises left behind. Cleon showed no remorse for his actions.

„Father does it too.“ He said and hit his wooden sword against the leg of a divan, leaving a dent.

„Well maybe he shouldn’t.“ Polites said softly.

Platanea narrowed her eyes at him.

Polites stared back at her. As long as Poseidons child was still growing in him, he was all but untouchable. Poseidon didn’t care about him. He sure did care about his sons and any even perceived threat against them was not taken lightly. So as long as he was carrying this child, he was going to take every advantage he could. „Maybe sometimes we shouldn’t approach everything with violence.“

„No.“ Cleon quickly decided as he flung his sword across the room. „It’s more fun.“

Polites sighed and sat back, a hand on his belly. Cleon was too young to understand empathy and reason, he knew that. Still it couldn’t hurt to plant the seeds now and nurture them later.

He winced at the child kicking him right into his lungs. He hadn’t kept the time, didn’t know how far along he was. Still he was confident it wouldn’t be much longer. With how big and round his belly was and how quiet the child, he guessed about two or three more weeks.

He couldn’t stop his hand caressing the curve and smiling softly. Despite trying so hard not to grow attached, not to think of this as his child, he was failing. He knew it would be taken away, he knew he would never see it. Still a tiny treacherous part of his heart wanted to hold it, wanted to whisper to it and kiss its cheeks. Just wanted to hold a newborn and together recover from the pain and the fear of birth. Instead he would be left in his own blood and sweat while his son was taken away to be comforted and raised by someone else.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. Polites leaned his head back against the divan and tried to blink away the tears. This was the fourth son he was giving Poseidon. When would he finally be satisfied? When would he consider their deal fulfilled and let him go?

Probably never. In his desperation, Polites had offered himself with only one condition. Let Acacius be healthy, let him live a long life free of illness. There had never been talk of an end to their deal. For all he knew this was his life. For however long this body would last. For however long Poseidon pleased.

Cleon stopped swinging his sword when he heard him sobbing. „Don’t cry.“ He climbed onto the divan and sat on his lap. „I don’t like crying.“ He said softly.

Polites sniffled and wiped his eyes. This was why he refused to give up on Cleon. He could be so sweet, so caring. So far only when he cried or was visibly upset, but for a mentally four or five year old, that was a lot. „I’m sorry.“ He whispered and brushed through Cleons hair.

„Is my brother hurting you?“  

„No, no, he isn’t.“ Polites soothed him.

Cleon pressed his hands against the belly, causing Polites to wince.

„Don’t press that hard, my sweet.“ Polites explained calmly. „It hurts me and your brother.“

„Oh.“ Immediately Cleon took the pressure off and Polites took as deep a breath as he could. It was a start. Cleon put his ear against the belly. „When is he coming out?“

„Hopefully soon.“

„Does he look like me?“

„I don’t know. You will have to wait to find out.“

Cleon made an unhappy noise, but laid down with one hand on his belly and thus disappearing from Polites’ field of view. 

Poseidon was present for the delivery. Not the whole labor, no he had his healers take care of that and only showed up when the child was already crowning. He didn’t hold Polites’ hand, he didn’t encourage him, barely even looked at him. Not like Polites had expected anything else. While he lay there screaming and crying and pushing his spawn out, the god looked on with disinterest.

Only when one of the healers handed the red screaming baby to him, did his expression change into a soft smile.

„A healthy son, my lord.“ The healer announced.

„Beautiful.“ Poseidon whispered as he took in the child in his arms.

Polites tried to reach for his son. Poseidon had already turned his back and was walking away. 

Chapter Text

Acacius had not gotten very far at all. The moment he’d stepped outside his room, a guard had strongly recommended he go back in before he was forced to make him. Kings orders.

Acacius had turned and walked back into his room and slammed the door. He had been stuck in there ever since. A whole entire day of house arrest. So far.

He was contemplating climbing out of the window when a knock sounded at the door. Acacius hesitated. Telemachus had visited him just this morning, he wouldn’t be back yet. His father would certainly not see him. It wasn’t lunch time yet.

Another knock. „Heard you got arrested.“

Acacius rolled his eyes. „Fuck off.“

The door opened and his cousin stepped through. „What’d you do? Coup? Didn’t finish dinner?“

„Got caught snooping.“ Acacius admitted. „Did you know my dad left a letter?“

Proctus frowned and sat next to him. „No. Did you get to read it?“

„I did.“ Acacius worried his lower lip. He threw a glance towards the door. It was closed again. „I know what happened. He didn’t run away.“

„He didn’t?“

„It wasn’t by chance I was one of the few that survived the illness a few years ago. My dad sacrificed himself so I could recover.“

Proctus’ frown deepened. „Damn. So what happened?“

„He sacrificed himself to the god of the sea. Remember what your mom told us about Syllo and Cleon? The Earthshaker wouldn’t kill him, he’s keeping him alive somewhere out there!“

Proctus hummed as he looked to the window. „You think so?“

„I’m sure of it.“

The older nodded. „So what’s the plan?“

„Break out, commandeer a boat and find him.“

„Cool, I’m in.“

„You-„ Acacius whipped around, „What?“

„I’m coming with you.“ Proctus clarified and got up. „When are we leaving? Gotta warn you, I won’t be ready until this evening.“

Acacius laughed. „I won’t be ready either. Need to find a way out without alerting my father.“

„Dude, use the window.“

„I am not climbing out of the window!“

„Why not?“

Acacius gestured to it. „It’s two stories up!“

„So? Use your flabby arms.“ Proctus clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh, then lowered his voice. „Harbor at midnight?“

Acacius stared at the window. „Harbor at midnight.“ He confirmed. 

Climbing out of the window was easier said than done. Acacius spent minutes just staring down at the ground that only seemed to get further and further away. He took a deep breath- and stumbled backwards, his heart beating in his chest. „I can do this.“ He muttered to himself, pacing the room. „I can do this.“

He gripped his bags, marched to the window, looked down- and froze.

„I can’t do this.“ He threw his bags to the floor and paced back to the bed. Then he remembered his dads letter. Acacius couldn’t let him down. His dad had sacrificed himself to a god and his son couldn’t even climb out of a second story window. What an embarrassment he must be.

Acacius walked back to the window and picked up the bags. Making sure they were securely slung over his shoulders, he took another deep breath. „Don’t look down.“ He whispered and climbed onto the window sill.

The night air was cold, it was the middle of winter after all. „Don’t look down.“ Acacius reminded himself again and again as he turned, holding onto the window sill and slowly lowering himself over the edge, trying to find purchase with his feet. „I can do this.“ He whispered and slowly let go of the window sill with his left hand, finding someplace to hold on to further down. „I can do this.“ He whispered with a grin as he found a rock to grasp and lifted his right hand- and promptly lost his grip and fell with a yelp into a bush right below his window.

Gasping for breath, he lay tangled among the branches and stared at the night sky. That could have gone better. After allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, making sure he wasn’t injured and no one had heard him, Acacius climbed out of the bush and quickly snuck into the shadows of the back alleys.

Proctus was waiting for him by the harbor house, hidden in the shadow. „Thought you’d ditch me.“ He greeted him.

„Shut up.“ Acacius smiled and hugged him. „Thank you. For coming with me.“

„Anything’s better than looking after my sister.“ Proctus shrugged.

Acacius grimaced. He liked Proctus’ little sister. Even if she could be annoying, she was very sweet. What he wouldn’t give to have a little sibling.

There were only two guards at the harbor. It was easy to avoid them. The two boys waited until the guards had walked past their hiding place and a bit further, then quietly hurried to the boats. They had always been good at sneaking. Proctus’ mom said it was a family trait.

Proctus hurriedly walked up and down a pier, checking out boats best suited for their endeavor. He was a much more experienced sailor. And by that it meant he was experienced at all. Odysseus didn’t let Acacius learn how to sail, kept saying he wasn’t ready; when Proctus’ dad had begun teaching him at eleven.

„That one.“ Proctus whispered and pointed to a small vessel one pier over.

Acacius nodded and they quietly walked back towards land and then onto the pier. He felt around for the mooring for the rope to untie it.

„Took you long enough.“ A third voice spoke and both boys jumped with a stifled yelp. Telemachus came crawling out from underneath the bow and crossed his arms.

„What are you doing here?“ Acacius hissed, looking around for the guards.

„I could ask you the same.“ His brother said.

„You can’t stop me. I’m getting my dad back.“ Acacius argued fiercely.

„I know.“ Telemachus said.

„Then what are you doing here?“

Telemachus’ expression dropped into an easy smile and he ruffled through Acacius’ hair. „Making sure you two come back alive.“

Acacius blinked at him incredulously. „You… you’re coming with us?“

„Of course.“ Telemachus grabbed the bags Acacius was carrying and stowed them under the bow where he’d previously hid. „You two need adult supervision.“

The younger crossed his arms. „We do not!“

„Oh really? Did you two goobers think of packing any food? Water? Medical supplies?“

Acacius looked to Proctus. Proctus looked to Acacius.

„My point. Now hop in, the guards will be back around in another few minutes.“

The two teenagers looked at each other, then quickly climbed into the boat. 

By the time the sun rose, Ithica was only a shadow at their back.

„Father is going to kill me.“ Acacius decided as he watched it slowly disappear beyond the horizon.

„He wouldn’t.“ Telemachus replied calmly.

„How do you know, you’re his favourite!“

„No, I’m just the older.“ Telemachus smirked.

Acacius sat down with a huff and put his face in his hands. „I’m so dead.“

Proctus pat his back. „Can I get your room?“

„You are not helping!“ Acacius shouted.

They sailed all day until the sun was low in the sky and the wind calmed. Telemachus striked the sail and handed out provisions for them. „We got enough for two weeks, three if we stretch it. Still we shouldn’t go too far.“

„I have a question,“ Proctus asked with his mouth full, „Where are we going?“

Telemachus looked to Acacius. Acacius looked back at them. „What?“

„You wanted to go, you should know where we’re going.“ Telemachus said.

„I don’t know! I figured we’d just… ask around.“ Acacius said with a shrug.

„Ask around? Lords above and below, Ace, that is the stupidest plan I have ever heard! Walk up to a random stranger and ask if they’ve seen the sea god around lately?“ Telemachus sighed.

„Do you have a better one?“ He snapped back.

Telemachus was quiet for a moment, looking towards the rising moon. The waves lapped against the hull of the boat, somewhere a gull cried. „Gerenia.“ He concluded. „There’s a big temple to the sea god there and it’s far enough from home. We could prod for information there, maybe the priests know something.“

„And that’s why you’re the favourite child.“ Proctus declared. 

It took them a few days to reach Gerenia. While they got lucky and didn’t encounter a storm, the weather wasn’t exactly favorable either. Acacius was quite the seafarer as it turned out. Even when the waves got strong enough to make Telemachus pale around the nose, he didn’t feel anything. When the ocean shook their little boat enough to make Proctus grip the mast in fear, he stood firm.

They moored their boat and Telemachus paid the harbor master. They had their first warm meal in days at the market. After that they started their walk up to the temple.

„Who’s idea was it,“ Acacius stopped to wheeze, „to build a temple,“ Wheeze, „to a sea god,“ Wheeze, „on top of a fucking cliff?“

Telemachus clapped his shoulder with a sympathetic look and kept walking.

When he finally reached the top, Acacius was sweating and gasping for breath. Telemachus and Proctus were waiting for him.

„You doing good?“ Proctus asked a little concerned.

„Fine.“ Acacius wheezed. „Just- gimme a moment.“

Telemachus wordlessly handed him a water skin. Acacius drained it.

„How many of your afternoon sports have you skipped?“ Proctus asked.

„A few?“ Acacius tried as he stood up straight and took a deep breath.

„Try every single one for three months straight.“ Telemachus took back the water skin. „Seriously, do I have to start lecturing you too?“

With a grumble Acacius shoved past them and walked up to the temple. Telemachus quickly caught up to him and held him by his arm. „Let me do the talking.“ He said sternly.

They stepped up to the pronaos, the porch of the temple and bowed their heads to the priest that was welcoming them. „I see three weary travelers at the door of our mighty lord of the seas. How may I assist you?“

„We are most gracious to receive your welcome and grateful to your lords hospitality. We come seeking information about our brother.“ Telemachus spoke with all the grace of a king.

Acacius frowned at him.

The priest nodded. „Was he lost at sea?“

„I suppose that could be said. You see, your lord took our mother as his lover and she bore him a son. A child of the cyclopes. He was taken mere days after his birth and now we seek him.“

The priest looked very contemplative as he glance towards the naos and the statue of Poseidon. „Why do you seek this child? If he is with his father, surely there is no reason to.“

„Our mother has taken ill, she wishes for the chance to see her child before she passes.“ Telemachus lied smoothly.

The priest hummed as he looked out towards the ocean. He was silent for a long time. Acacius and Proctus shifted nervously. Finally he spoke again: „There is an isle, about a months travel by boat east of here, near Thera. There have been many cyclopes sighted there. However I cannot recommend you go there. As benevolent as out lord may be, his offspring can be… brutish. Cyclopes are not known for their kindness and welcoming attitude.“

They of course all knew of Odysseus’ encounter with Polyphemus, how he had trapped them, been tricked and then sworn his vengeance. This whole damn mess could be traced back to that one encounter.

„We will consider it. Thank you for your time and wisdom.“ Telemachus bowed and handed over a few coins.

The priest bowed in return.

Before they left, Telemachus made a small offering at the altar inside the naos to ask for safe passage over the seas.

„What was that?“ Acacius asked as they were making their way back towards town.

„We have a lead, now we have to follow it.“ Telemachus explained.

„You’re making us go to a cyclops island? Are you insane? One of those things killed Ithican men, almost killed our fathers and they’re known for eating humans!“

„And one of them is your brother! Finding him could get us a lead to your father. That is our entire goal, is it not?“

Acacius opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally he settled on: „Why not just ask about my dad?“

Telemachus stopped with a sigh. „How, Ace? How am I supposed to ask for a man that disappeared six years ago? How am I supposed to ask for a gods lover without raising suspicion?“

Acacius tried to argue for a moment, then gave up with a huff and kept walking.

They had dinner at an inn and slept back to back in their boat. Early the next morning they used a public well to wash and refill their water supplies. Telemachus; after stopping the younger two from spending money on sweets, gathered their collective funds and bought supplies to last them for a few weeks.

Before noon they were back on the water, heading towards their destination of Thera.

Three people on a tiny sail boat was never a good time. One adult and two teenagers even less so. The travel to Gerenia had been bad enough, but now  they had been on the boat far longer already, traveling over open sea with no land or harbor in sight.

They were all a little sleep deprived, a little hungry from rationing their supplies and smelling to the heavens. To say the mood was strained would be an understatement. 

Acacius was going to smother Proctus in his sleep if he didn’t stop fidgeting with that rope this second. He hadn’t kept the days, Telemachus said they’d been on open waters for thirty days. It felt like much more. He was starting to question if this was really worth it. Of course he wanted to save his dad, but sitting here, on a tiny boat in the middle of the ocean, food and water dwindling; he wondered if his dad would have wanted this.

He spoke what he’d been thinking for a few days: „Maybe we should turn around.“

The other two froze and looked at him. Telemachus took a deep breath. „We are out here because of you.“

„And look around!“ Acacius stood. „Do you see anything? Anything to help us, anything that could lead us to my dad?“

„We’re in the middle of the ocean, Ace. Of course there’s nothing.“ Telemachus said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

„And how much longer are we going to be out here? How long have we been away from home?“

„Did you think this was going to be quick? Did you think we would sail a week and then be back again? We’re lucky we even got one lead.“

Acacius groaned in frustration and sat back down. „I don’t know!“

They sailed on in silence.

Dusk fell and Acacius took the rudder so Telemachus could rest. Proctus was silent as he looked at the sunset. 

„My, my, what have we here?“

Acacius jumped up, grabbing an oar and brandishing it like a spear. „Who’s there?“ He demanded, looking around for the unknown voice.

A laugh. A flutter of wings. And suddenly there were four men on the boat. The newcomer was wearing simple travelers garb, but the clothes were too clean to have seen much traveling. „Just a friend.“ He drawled with a grin.

On the other side of the boat, Proctus was slowly getting to his feet. Telemachus was deep asleep.

„What do you want? How did you even get here?“ Acacius demanded.

The stranger pushed the oar away from his face. „No need for hostility, I am here to help.“

„How could you help us?“

„You’re searching for the cyclops’ island. You won’t find your brother there.“

Acacius grit his teeth. „How do you know this?“

„That is my job.“ He flashed a bright grin before turning serious. „My uncle keeps your father in his palace below the waves. You cannot rescue him.“

„How do you know?“ Acacius yelled, stepping forward. „I will save him!“

„I never said you wouldn’t. I am saying you will have to be crafty and use that brain of yours.“ He stepped forward and pressed a finger to Acacius’ forehead. „Use your wit, not your strength. Follow the light.“

And just like that he was gone again. Acacius straightened and blinked, looking around as if he’d just woken up. His eyes met Proctus’. „Did that just happen?“ Acacius asked quietly.

„Pretty sure it did.“ Proctus whispered back.

Acacius lowered the oar and looked around. Somewhere in the distance, over the far horizon, he saw a glow.

Proctus had noticed it too. „Is it sunrise already?“

„No.“ Acacius shook his head softly. „It’s too early. It’s southeast.“ He looked to Proctus. „Hold on.“ And he turned the rudder to steer them towards the dim glow on the horizon. Follow the light.

Chapter Text

For a son of the sea god, Cleon was a terrible swimmer. How he got around in an underwater palace was a mystery. Polites kept him on the shallow bench part around the edges of the pool, even if he didn’t like it. He kept trying to get away from him, kept trying to get past him into the deeper waters of the pool, insisting he could handle it.

„No, you stay there.“ Polites repeated again, trying to hold back the supernaturally strong child.

Cleon screamed and kicked, by now Polites knew how to stay out of his reach. He had no doubt if those hooves hit his arms they would fracture his bones.

„Cleon, stop it!“ Polites raised his voice just a little. Even he didn’t have infinite patience.

„Let go!“ Cleon shrieked, trying to wind his way out his his grasp.

„No, stop it!“ Trying to adjust his grip on the squirming child, Polites got just a bit too close and promptly received a hoof to the face. He fell backwards like a rock, hitting the water and going under. Everything went gray and far away. He could see the rippling of the water, the reflections of lights.

Just as suddenly as he’d gone under, he was hauled back up. He was gasping for air, coughing up water he’d unwillingly inhaled.

Somewhere he could still hear Cleon crying. He tried to move towards him, even when the water in his eyes made it hard to see. His child was crying. He could be hurt or in danger. He needed to make sure his boy was alright. „Cleon-„ He gasped out, reaching towards the crying.

Hands held him back, big figures were gathered around him. The crying only got louder.

„Cleon!“ With strength he didn’t know he had, Polites tore himself from whoever was holding him back and rushed towards his son. Only when he finally held him, when he felt those small arms wrap around him, did he stop to breathe. „It’s okay.“ He whispered, kissing his hair. „It’s ok. I’m here. I’m here.“

„Mom.“ Cleon cried, clinging to him. „Mom. Please, I’m sorry.“

„It’s okay.“ Polites held him closer. „You’re ok.“ The hands were on him again, he tried to fight them off. This time he wasn’t strong enough. This time his son was ripped from his arms. His own screaming tuned out Cleon’s as he was dragged backwards. When the door slammed and Cleon’s crying became ever more distant, he stopped fighting and slumped, sobbing. 

„I want to see my son.“ Polites demanded when Poseidon entered his room that same day.

„No. He needs time away from you.“ Poseidon dismissed him immediately.

Polites grit his teeth, then took a deep breath. „Perhaps you are right. Some more discipline would do him good.“

Poseidon stopped and looked at him intently. So far Polites had only ever argued or quietly submitted, he’d never agreed with him. When he approached, he was cautious but smiling. „To think we would agree on something. Is this a ploy to see your sons? Because I can tell you right now, it won’t work.“

Polites shrugged and laid back, sprawling across the pillows. „We can always make more.“

The smile on Poseidons face turned sly as he leaned over him. „I like this new side of you.“ He kissed him roughly. „I better take advantage of it while it’s there.“

Polites pulled him in. He played the willing mistress, he opened his legs for his captor, made obscenely loud moaning noises, scratched his nails across his back. Tried to image it was someone else fucking him. Tried to picture clever dark eyes and a cunning smile, tried to remember the feeling of rough fingertips brushing through his hair.

He pulled him in again and again, round after round, from the bed to the floor to the pool and back. Even when the exhaustion threatened to become too much, even when he felt like vomiting from the repugnant feeling of cold cum dripping down his legs, he kept going.

When Poseidon lay next to him snoring; to think he had managed to tire out a god, he lay wide awake, both hands on his abdomen and praying he had conceived. The last child had only been a few weeks ago, he knew the odds were low. But he had lain with a god, they were incredibly fertile by nature. Poseidon had seemed convinced enough to focus his attention on getting him pregnant. And by all that was holy and divine, they had been going at it for long enough. If Polites wasn’t pregnant after all that, he was going to eat a shoe.

With a small sigh he closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of his abdomen beneath his hands. As long as he was pregnant, he had a modicum of power. As long as he was carrying a gods son, he was untouchable. While harming him meant harming the child, he had leverage. 

Cleon was kept away from him until the healers confirmed his pregnancy. Poseidon seemed so happy about the news, Polites didn’t even need to finish his question. „Sure, whatever. Anything to keep you happy.“ Poseidon kissed the tiny bump again and again.

Cleon ran to him with open arms and hugged him tightly. He didn’t cry. „Mom! I missed you!“

„I missed you too, my sweet!“ Polites kissed the top of his head. „Did you grow since last I saw you? I could swear you were smaller!“

„I am going to be bigger than father!“ Cleon proclaimed proudly.

„If you are anything like your brother, you will be.“ Polites quickly shook the image of the blinded Polyphemus from his mind.

„Father says I have many brothers!“

„You do! Even I don’t know how many.“ He looked to Platanea, but she remained silent as always. Polites was beginning to suspect she might not be silent by choice.

They were only allowed a few minutes together. For now. Polites was certain if he played his cards right he might be able to see Cleon multiple times a week. Cleon had a small bag of toys, shaped like various creatures from legend. They sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and reenacted scenes from the tales Polites had already told him.

Polites cried when Platanea took Cleons hand and led him away. Cleon wiped his tears away. „Don’t cry, mom. Father says tears are weakness.“

Polites cried harder once the door had closed behind them.

Polites still cried almost every night. He still missed home, his son, his love. He still missed what could be a life.

The nymphs that sat with him while he ate were not his friends. They were only there because they had to be.

The healers that examined him didn’t care for him as a person, only for his womb and the child forming within.

His only solace was Cleon. His sweet little Cleon. He was getting bigger. And sadly more influenced by his father. Polites did all he could, but he could see Cleon slip more and more into the image of his father. Ruthless, violent, selfish. Sometimes there were peeks, just tiny little moments of kindness and compassion. Enough not to let him give up hope on turning his sons upbringing around. 

This pregnancy took a lot more of a toll on him than the previous ones. Well, maybe except Syllo. Syllo had been by far the worst, had been a breath away from killing him. He was quickly getting winded, his lower back began hurting just weeks in and he was constantly fatigued.

It was no surprise when he was quickly bedridden again, just to make sure the risks to the child were as small as possible.

„I have a favor to ask.“ Polites began.

„What is it?“ Poseidon asked, his head resting on the bump of his stomach.

„There’s a meal I’ve been craving. From my home. I would like to taste it again.“

Poseidon frowned. „I don’t see the harm in it.“

„Thank you, my lord.“ Polites smiled brightly at him. He had no doubt that the god knew exactly what he was doing. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Poseidon was a lot more attentive to him. Wether it was just because of the pregnancy or because he had noticed Polites’ sudden shift in behaviour, he couldn’t tell.

Polites played the happily expecting mother, caressing his belly and talking about senseless things like names and whose eye colour the baby would have. A meal request was just the beginning of his plans. Bit by bit he would chip away at Poseidons hold over him, bit by bit he would push boundaries. Until he could see his family again. And if he had to carry five more sons, he was willing to go through with it. For Cleon. For Acacius. For Odysseus.

For the first time he began to feel more like himself again, began to feel a spark of that fighting spirit he had once held in his heart. He had made a deal with Poseidon. He had willingly put himself into this situation. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t manage to get out of it again.

The revelation that he was carrying twins shattered every bit of confidence Polites had scraped together. It was stupid, he knew it was. That didn’t stop him from starting to sob hysterically as he heard the news.

Twins. Like Cleon was. Like Acacius was. His two boys he had loved from the beginning, that he had held and kissed and promised to keep safe. And still had failed them both.

That night Poseidon made love to him like a lover would. Gentle. Considerate.

Polites only cried into the pillow. 

Cleon loved feeling for his brothers. Polites had to keep reminding him not to press his hands into his skin too much.

„Easy.“ He would mutter and gently push him away. „Don’t hurt us.“

„It’s okay,“ Cleon assured him, „Father does it too.“ He always left bruises behind.

It took weeks for Polites to recover from the shock, to get out of the memories and guilt. He still felt mostly numb to the world, only Cleon’s smile could bring the faintest light into his heart.

He tried to distract himself from the situation. He asked for books and scrolls to read, requested elaborate meals and deserts, had toys made for him and Cleon to play with. He pushed the goodwill of his captor to its limit. At least when Poseidon got angry and left bruises on him, he could feel something.

„Careful, don’t want to hurt the twins.“ Polites spoke coldly when Poseidon next raised his hand at him.

Poseidon froze, then stomped away, slamming the door. 

„I want to go outside.“ Polites demanded.

„No.“ Poseidon shot back immediately.

„Why not?“

„You are carrying my sons. I will not risk anything happen to them.“

Polites snorted. „Big words for someone who only checked in once when I carried his first sons.“

Poseidon glowered at him, but didn’t do anything. Instead he placed his head back down to listen to the twins. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again: „My heir is visiting in a few days’ time. If you behave, I will consider letting you join the festivities.“

Polites nodded quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to see the sky again, feel the warmth of the sun, breathe the fresh air. But a step outside this room was a step towards freedom. 

Before exiting his room, Poseidon had to give him gills. Almost every room of the palace was filled with water. Polites gasped and sputtered for multiple minutes while trying to get used to not breathing like he’d breathed his entire life. When Poseidon and the healers began discussing putting him back into his room to not stress him out even more, he forced himself to breathe calmer, to copy the merfolk around him. It was still a strange sensation, even as he got more and more used to it. He was breathing. Just different than he knew. He had to focus to stop the breath at his throat and not use his mouth or nose, but the gills on the side of his neck. Every now and then he tried to inhale through his nose reflexively, causing him to cough and sneeze to get rid of the water in his system.

While he had managed to convince Poseidon and the healers that he was alright to join the festivities, the god still had a small room by the yard drained, so he had somewhere to escape to, should the gills not work for him.

Poseidon placed him onto a divan somewhere on the outskirts of the yard, two guards, a healer and his nymph „friends“ gathered around him. As if Polites could escape even if he were left unattended. Not with his belly heavy with the twins.

He stayed on the divan the entire evening, watching the crowd mingle amongst themselves. Even if he was on the outskirts, just being among people made him feel more at ease. Even if they didn’t talk to him, at least he wasn’t alone in his room. He snacked on all sorts of food the servants were carrying around and eventually even found something he could talk to the nymphs about. It was about the children. But it was better than nothing. It was better than keep sitting there in silence and stuffing his face with yet another tiny serving of something he didn’t recognize.

It felt almost normal. He felt almost… happy.

The party was winding down and Polites was starting to feel drowsy. He wasn’t used to socializing anymore. All the food sat heavy in his stomach and even the twins were quiet for once. He was just starting to doze off, comfortable on his plush pillows and blankets, when someone cleared their throat near him.

He startled a little as he opened his eyes and tried to sit up straighter. In his surprise, he had swallowed some water and was coughing it up again. „Sorry.“ He muttered as he looked to who had approached him. He had expected it to be Poseidon, instead it was another man. Well, man was maybe a stretch. He had the upper body of a man, dressed richly and laden with jewelry; his lower body had no legs, but a long tail, coiled beneath him like a serpents.

„Hello.“ Polites said, not knowing what else to say. He didn’t know who this was and why he had approached him.

„You’re Servestia?“ The man asked, his face pensive.

Polites grimaced. He hated that name. A name Poseidon had given him to strip even more of his identity from him. To really make him a nobody. „My name is Polites.“ He replied coldly.

The man chuckled and uncrossed his arms. „Glad to know my father hasn’t completely gotten to you.“

Father. One of Poseidons sons. „Can I help you with something?“ Polites was tired, he had just been so comfortable, he wanted to go back to that.

„I simply wish to know the mother of my newest brothers.“ The man sat next to him and touched his belly unasked.

„There’s three more somewhere around. No need to wait on these two.“

„Oh I have already met them.“

Polites wanted to be sassy, wanted to get angry. Instead he just felt sad. How this man had met his sons when he’d never even been allowed to see them.

Under the mans cold hand, the twins were stirring. He smiled and rubbed the skin gently. „I have talked to father, we will take them in as soon as they’re born.“

Polites froze. „What?“

„All of my own children are grown and have made their homes somewhere else, how I miss the sound of laughter in my halls.“

Polites had to remind himself to breathe. This- this man was talking about taking the twins. Bad enough Poseidon had his children raised by nursemaids, but to just give them away? „Absolutely not!“ Polites somehow got to his feet, immediately some of the nymphs were by his side.

The man looked unimpressed. „It’s already been decided. They will have a good home with me and my wife.“
„No! Fuck you! I am done having my children taken from me!“ Polites spat at him. „I am the one who carries them! I am the one who delivers them! And I am the one they’re torn away from!“

Suddenly Poseidon stood beside them, a hand tight around his arm „Servestia, calm down.“ He warned with a low voice.

„And fuck you too!“ Polites yelled, trying to kick at the god. „Fuck you for abducting me! Fuck you for raping me! And fuck you for taking my sons from me!“

One moment, Polites was causing havoc, screaming and kicking and making a scene- the next he was back in his bed, a blanket softly resting on top of him. He frowned as he sat up slowly, one hand on his aching lower back.

„Have you calmed down now?“ Poseidon was sitting in a chair near the bed.

„No.“ Polites spat and bared his teeth at him.

He woke up again, this time on his other side. A nymph was braiding his hair. „Fuck.“ He muttered to himself as he blinked rapidly to get his eyes to focus again.

The nymph quickly helped him sit up, neatly folding the blanket over his belly. „Are you feeling alright? Would you like something to drink? Something to eat?“

„I’m fine.“ Polites groaned, rubbing his forehead. „What happened?“

„You were suffering a hysteric episode. Our Lord Poseidon deigned it safer to subdue you for a time.“ She explained like it wasn’t a big deal.

Subdue. Polites felt like nothing at all had happened. He’d been in one situation one moment and in another the next. Almost like he’d lost consciousness but didn’t remember.

A cold chill suddenly ran down his back. This had happened before. While carrying Cleon and Acacius, he’d had multiple spells he’d never remembered. According to Odysseus, he would get a faraway look and his face would fall. Poseidon subduing him. Poseidon messing with his head.

Polites wanted to scream and yell and throw the stupidly ornate vases against the wall. Instead he just began to sob. 

At this point, giving birth was more a chore than a special moment. Polites had gone through it so many times, his body was used to it. That didn’t mean it wasn’t painful. That didn’t mean he stopped screaming and crying and cursing.

The healers had moved him to the pool, sat him on the shallow bench and let him labor for hours until it was finally time to push. There was nothing to grip on to on the smooth edge of the pool, there was nothing to press his feet against on the slippery tiles.

At least twins were early, twins were smaller. It still took him almost an entire hour to deliver the first one. As he slipped out, the healers didn’t catch him, didn’t immediately lift him above the waters surface to allow him to breathe.

Just before Polites could begin to panic, he noticed the tiny body twitching, moving and stretching, folds on his neck and ribs beginning to move in a rhythmic pattern. Gills. He had gills. He was fully aquatic.

One of the healers quickly cut the umbilical cord and gently guided the newborn into a corner of the pool where towels and kelp had been laid out.

„My son.“ Polites whispered, trying to reach out. He looked like his oldest brother, fair hair, human torso, a tail and fin. His eyes were still closed as he laid down into the nest, snuggling into the fine fabrics.

A new contraction forced him to focus back on the one still inside of him. With a deep breath Polites closed his eyes and pushed. And pushed and pushed and pushed.

„Crowning.“ One of the healers said calmly. Polites didn’t need anyone to announce it, he felt it.

„Inform Lord Triton.“ Someone else said.

„Push. Push.“

„Oh look at all that hair, just like his brother!“

„Head is out.“

„He is on his way.“

„Don’t push now.“

„He will be so pleased.“

„Push. Stop.“

„Do you think they’re identical?“

„Push.“

„Our Lord Poseidon has many twin sons, I don’t think he has identical ones.“

With an exhausted grunt, Polites gave one last push and felt the child slip out. He didn’t try to look at it. He just leaned his head back against the cold hard marble and closed his eyes. They would be gone soon. Handed over like a commodity, like a present. 

Despite multiple pregnancies, one of them with twins, constant abuse from his captor and sometimes even his own son; there was not a flaw on Polites’ body. Not a single stretch mark, not a scar, not a wrinkle. No matter how much or little he ate, he never gained or lost fat. Cuts and scrapes healed within minutes, bruises within hours. Nothing left its evidence behind, not even time. The one time Polites had smashed the mirror and cut his hands and arms open, the wounds healed perfectly. No scar. No evidence. Just perfectly smooth skin.

He never thought he’d miss scars.

Poseidon didn’t visit him for weeks after the twins’ birth. Likely too busy cooing over his adopted grandsons, that were also his sons. Or maybe he was finally growing bored of his newest mistress.

At least it allowed him to talk Platanea into bringing Cleon around more often. Every second day after lunch, the nymph brought his son so they could play together. By now Cleon seemed to be somewhere around six or seven years old. He could show sympathy, he rarely did. He loved to hit and kick and swing his toy sword around. He rarely stopped when Polites told him to. When he was met with a No, he would get angry and violent. He’d broken several of Polites’ fingers when he’d tried to take the toy sword away from him after Cleon had used it to hit a nymph. He’d bitten through skin and flesh when Polites didn’t let him eat more sweets. He’d given him a black eye when Polites didn’t let him continue to tear down the curtains.

And despite it all, he still loved him. Despite it all, Polites held his son and kissed him and told him he loved him. He was just a child. He was just emulation his father. He didn’t mean to cause so much harm. He didn’t know any better.

With Poseidons absence and his womb empty, Polites had no sway over any of the staff. When he asked for special foods, he was denied. When he asked for different sheets, they were changed for him, but remained the same too smooth fabric. When he asked to be allowed to just step outside his room, he was shoved back inside.

He cried more often. He wished he could die more often.

Cleon wiped his tears and said sternly: „Stop crying. Tears are weakness.“

When Poseidon returned, he was in a foul mood. He all but threw Polites into the pool. There he fucked him rough and hard until he was out of breath. When he was done, he left, leaving Polites floating alone in the water. He hadn’t said a word the entire time. 

Like a snap, he was suddenly important again. He was listened to again. He could request almost anything and it be brought to him.

„Why do you always do that?“ Polites asked quietly, his gaze towards the ceiling.

„I like listening to them. I like to hear them moving, growing.“ Poseidon explained, his head on his belly.

„You can do that?“ Polites frowned.

„Mortals can’t. I can.“

Polites hummed and exhaled with a sigh. „How many?“

„Just one.“

Polites hummed. He looked down when he felt Poseidon move his head. The god was grinning at him.

„Want to know something?“

Polites shrugged.

Poseidon placed a kiss on the spot right below his navel. „It’s a girl.“

Swallowing heavy, Polites looked back towards the ceiling. A girl. He hadn’t thought that was even a possibility. Poseidon valued his sons so much, he had never once even mentioned a daughter. „A girl.“ He whispered.

After Poseidon left, he was still lying on his back, both hands on the bump in his abdomen. „A girl.“ He whispered to himself and closed his eyes.

And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel. Allowed himself to imagine a baby girl in his arms, with dark hair and keen eyes. Allowed himself to imagine tiny hands grasping his finger, imagined a baby’s laugh, clear as bells. Allowed himself to know that the pain of separation was inevitable, and still love this baby.

„Penelope.“ He whispered to her.

„I don’t want a sister.“ Cleon crossed his arms.

„Well that’s too bad, because you’re getting one.“ Polites smiled softly at Cleon and pat his hair.

„Stop that.“ Cleon smacked his hand away.

„Alright. You can just say it, no need to hit me.“

Cleon huffed and walked away, kicking over some of his toys. „Father says I can go to the surface soon.“

Polites tried his best not to let the pain show on his face. The surface. Sunlight. Fresh air. Warmth. Home. „You’re lucky, it’s beautiful up there.“

Cleon grimaced and stomped on a wooden soldier, splintering under his hoof. „I don’t want to go.“

„Why not?“

Cleon shrugged and kicked the splintered wood across the floor. „I want to stay here.“

„Well surely you’ll return?“ Polites looked to Platanea almost begging. She nodded and he let out a relieved sigh. He had tried talking to her, befriending her, charming her. She was like a stone wall. Rarely showing emotion, never talking. When she observed their play time, she was more like a shadow than a person.

„I don’t want to go.“ Cleon reiterated, stomping his hoof.

„There’s a lot of great things to see at the surface. Like- sheep,“ Polites cringed inwardly, „trees, clouds, stars. Maybe you can even meet more of your brothers.“

Platanea gave Polites a stern look. Anything concerning Polites’ life before this, was forbidden. He got one warning glare, after that the nymph would take Cleon away until the next play time.

„That sounds stupid.“ Cleon decided.

„Well you can’t know until you’ve seen it.“ Polites said gently.

Cleon huffed and stomped another toy soldier.

„Cleon, stop it.“ Polites spoke more firmly.

Cleon stomped on another.

Polites stood up, one hand unconsciously protecting his belly. „We do not destroy our toys.“

With a yell, Cleon picked up a horse and threw it at him. Luckily his aim was terrible and he missed.

Platanea stepped between them and grabbed Cleons arms firmly. He immediately stopped and looked away.

„Don’t hurt him.“ Polites tried to interject. „It’s alright.“

The nymph gave him a sharp look before dragging Cleon out of the room.

Chapter Text

The trio landed on a tiny island somewhere south of Thera a few days later. A few windswept trees dotted the island between boulders and small hills. With a brisk walk, Acacius assumed he would be able to cross the land within 30 minutes.

„Are you sure this is the right place?“ Telemachus asked as he looked around. „This looks… not like the right place.“

„It is!“ Acacius insisted. „You saw the glow too!“

Telemachus grimaced. „That could have been anything.“ He tried to reason. He clearly hadn’t believed the younger two when they had told him about their divine visitor.

„It’s the right place!“ Acacius insisted.

Telemachus looked around. „Let’s… walk around, see if we can spot anything.“

The oldest walked in front, leading them towards the biggest hill and the only real vantage point on the island. If it could even be called an island. From atop the hill, there wasn’t much more to see than from the beach. Just more misshapen trees, a few bushes, rocks and boulders. And ocean. So much ocean. Acacius was getting sick of the ocean.

„There’s nothing here.“ Proctus observed with a frown. „I don’t know what I expected, but- well it wasn’t this.“ He gestured to the island around them.

Acacius huffed and climbed onto the nearest boulder. „There has to be something!“

„Ace, get down from there.“ Telemachus said. „You’ll fall and hurt yourself.“

Acacius squinted as he shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. „Wait, there’s-„ He leaned forward. „There’s something.“ Behind a smaller hill he could see something that resembled a crude shelter. Something definitely man made.

Leaning forward just a little bit more, Acacius suddenly lost his balance and fell forward with a yelp. One moment he was on the boulder, the next he was looking at it from underneath. Telemachus’ face entered his vision. „Told you.“

Acacius rolled his eyes and sat up with a grunt. „It was slippery.“

„Sure.“ Telemachus helped him to his feet. „Which way?“

„This way.“ Acacius marched ahead through the grass and over the stones lining their path towards the shore.

As they rounded the hill Acacius had spotted, he felt his mouth go dry. What would they find? Could it really be his brother? The one he’d been separated from mere days after their birth? Would he recognize him? Would he attack him? They had nothing to defend themselves with, except the dagger Telemachus was carrying.

He carefully rounded the corner and looked around. The shelter he had spotted was two branches buried in the sand with a plank of wood lying on top, a long edge held up by the dirt of the hill.

A woman was standing under the shelter. She startled when she noticed them and stumbled away.

Immediately Acacius raised his hands. „We come in peace, please don’t be afraid.“

The woman looked at them with wide eyes. Her hair was dark and braided with strands of pearl, her eyes were light, shining like the sun on the ocean. She wore only a simple dress, but the fabric was finer than he had ever seen at court. A nymph. Likely a naiad.

Telemachus approached carefully. „Please excuse our disturbance, my lady, we mean no harm. We are looking for someone, perhaps you have seen him?“

She shook her head slowly as she backed away.

Acacius got to the front. „My brother, he’s my age, he’s a cyclops.“

The nymph now looked terrified as she turned and ran. She ran straight for the water and disappeared beneath the waves.

„Wait!“ Acacius called and followed her, but stopped when he stood to his knees in the water. „We just want to talk!“ He called after her, but the only thing that answered him was the waves lapping at his legs. With a frown he walked back onto dry land.

„Now what?“ Proctus asked.

Acacius huffed and looked around. „I don’t know.“ He was at a loss. The nymph had been their only lead forward. Now they were back at zero.

„Ace, Pro, come over here.“ Telemachus called. He was standing under the shelter. As he moved to the side, he revealed a door in the hillside. It was small so that even Acacius would have to crouch to step through it. Its colour blended almost perfectly with the windswept grass of the hill, no wonder he hadn’t noticed it with a glance.

The two younger hurried over and gathered around the door. „What do you think is in there?“ Proctus asked.

„We won’t find out by discussing it.“ Acacius stepped forwards, but quickly noticed the door was lacking a handle or a knob. He felt around the edges, looking for any weak spots. He found an indentation in the wood, just deep enough for his fingers to find purchase. He pulled and the door swung open without any resistance.

„Well that’s disappointing.“ Proctus commented.

Beyond the door lay what could only be described as a cubbyhole. Barely big enough for two adult men to lay in. A few crumpled up pillows and blankets were shoved into one corner, a handful of pots lined one wall.

„What did you expect, a treasury?“ Acacius crouched down and crawled into the cave, digging through the pile of blankets.

„I don’t know. Just something more than… that.“

Telemachus leaned down to catch a glimpse into the cave. „Anything interesting in there?“

„Not really.“ Acacius had moved on to the pots. Salted fish, dried fish, dried fruit, bread. „Just food and supplies.“ He reported.

„What are you doing?“

All three turned to the beach, from which the unknown voice had come. A child of no more than seven was standing there, holding a large fish by the tail and dragging it across the sand. He was dressed in a simple ragged tunic. His legs were weirdly bent and he had hooves where a child would have feet. The most notable characteristic however was the singular eye.

Telemachus recovered quickest and approached the cyclops child. „Hello, please forgive our intrusion, we are looking for someone.“

The cyclops mustered him. „Who are you?“

„We’re just travelers. I am Gallus, these are my friends Idomeneus and Telines. What may we call you?“ Telemachus lied smoothly and bowed low.

The cyclops looked at him with an expression that could be a frown. „My name is Cleon.“ He spoke eventually.

Acacius felt like he’d just been hit in the head. This was his brother? This was the one they were searching for? He was half his age at most and nothing like his dad had used to describe him. Then again it had been fourteen years and dad had only seen him as a baby. Babies never looked like the children they would become a few years later. Acacius knew because his father had saved a painting of Telemachus as a baby. The fat little baby on the painting looked nothing like the lean tall adult.

Again it was Telemachus that salvaged the awkward silence. „Well met, master Cleon. We apologize for disrupting your home, please let us fix it again.“ He glanced to Acacius.

Acacius understood and quickly put the pots back where he’d found them, folded and placed the blankets and pillows neatly into a corner. He clambered out of the cave and closed the door behind him.

Still looking weary, Cleon said: „That’s not my home.“

„Where is your home?“ Telemachus asked gently.

Cleon pointed to the ocean.

„Then why are you here?“

„Father says I need to learn to live on my own.“ He looked to the dead fish. „I don’t want to though.“

„And is your father here?“

„No, he is at home with mom and my brothers.“

Acacius spoke up quickly: „Your mother, is she alright? When did you last see her?“

Cleon shrugged. „I don’t know. She says I’ll have a sister soon. I don’t want a sister.“

„Is your mother with you up here sometimes? Can we meet her?“ Acacius asked.

Cleons frown turned mistrustful. „Why?“

Before he or anyone else could stop him, Acacius continued: „Your mother, she is my mother too, you’re my brother! We’re looking for her, we want to bring her back home! And you can come too! You don’t have to stay with your father!“

Telemachus pulled him back with a sharp warning glare. „Ace!“

Cleon took a step backwards. „You are not my brother.“

Acacius followed him. „I know it’s hard to believe, but you have to trust me! Did he tell you about Syllo? He told me about him too-„ He was cut short by a fish being flung in his face with such a force, it knocked him off his feet and into the sand.

Telemachus was kneeling beside him, helping him sit up again. He looked almost panicked. „We better go. If he tells his father about this…“

„Bad.“ Proctus noted very eloquently, staring at the waves the cyclops had just disappeared beneath.

Telemachus pulled his younger brother to his feet and hurried him along over the island, back to their little sail boat and as far away as they possibly could from the little mass of land that had been their only lead. 

„Why did you do that?“ Telemachus asked quietly. „You blew your our only lead.“

„Did you not hear him? Multiple brothers and a sister on the way, he keeps him trapped down there, has him delivering children like life stock! We need to save him!“ Acacius argued fiercely.

„And you think yelling at a child is going to help with that?“

„He is my age, he is fourteen!“

„Clearly he ages differently!“ Telemachus took a deep breath and leaned back with a sigh. „We’re going home.“ He decided.

„What? No!“ Acacius grabbed for the rudder. „We have to go back!“

„Are you insane? There is no way Cleon won’t tell his father about us. Do you want to stand opposed to a pissed of major god?“

„If that’s what I have to do to save my dad!“ Acacius yelled.

„Then go!“ Telemachus lost his patience. He stood and pointed towards the island on the horizon. „If it means that much to you, go! But don’t pull us in with you!“

Acacius looked at him with his mouth open. „I can’t swim.“ He said slowly.

„Yeah,“ Telemachus retorted, „that’s what I thought. Sit your ass down. We’re going home. And you better pray he doesn’t find us.“

Acacius huffed, opened his mouth, then sat down and crossed his arms.

Proctus wordlessly put a hand on his shoulder. 

They sailed for two days in silence. Telemachus and Proctus took turns on the rudder. Acacius was sulking in the corner.

He had been so close. So close to rescuing his dad. He had left his home behind, had sailed for weeks, had found his long lost brother just to be forced back at the last moment.

Cleon had not been what he’d imagined. When he thought of cyclopes, he thought of towering beasts, barely intelligent enough to string together a few words. Cleon was smaller than any of them, even him. And while he was definitely not as intelligent as an adult man, he had been surprisingly eloquent for his apparent age. Maybe it was the fact that their dad was mortal. Maybe that’s what made him different, that’s why he wasn’t with the other cyclopes. His hair was so similar to his own. So similar to their dad’s. How many siblings did they have now? How much was his dad suffering because of him? How was he ever going to save him?

It was late evening, the last light of the sun was fading beyond the horizon, when the wind suddenly stopped. They sat in complete silence, not even the water made any sound as it lapped on the sides of the boat, no one daring to breathe too loud.

Telemachus was the first to move again, he slowly got to his feet, a hand reaching for his dagger. 

„That won’t help you.“ The silence mocked him.

Acacius swallowed heavily as he looked to Telemachus. Telemachus was white as a sheet, his breath quick. If Telemachus was scared, they had a big problem on their hands.

„Show yourself.“ Telemachus spoke loudly, but he couldn’t hide the quiver in his voice.

A chuckle that shook their boat. „I am here. I am everywhere you look.“

Thinking quick, Telemachus dropped to his knee and glared at the younger two to do the same. „I simply wish not to accidentally turn my back to you, o lord Poseidon.“

Water rushed and splashed as the god rose from the mirror smooth sea. He was taller than the entire boat, carrying his mighty trident. „You were the ones accosting my son.“

Not even trying to deny it, Telemachus quickly answered: „We were. And we apologize for our transgression.“

Poseidon looked over each of them. His eyes lingered on Acacius. „You.“

Acacius swallowed heavily as he tried to get his wildly beating heart under control. „Y-yes?“

Poseidon was suddenly standing in front of him, seizing him by his collar and pulling him off his feet. „You’re the one she gave her life for. Why are you here, child? What do you think you can do?“

„I- I want to- to get my dad back.“ Acacius stuttered out, trying to avoid looking into the god’s eyes.

Poseidon was silent for a moment. Then he laughed and dropped Acacius back onto the boat. „Get him back. He is bound to me. There is nothing you can do.“

„Is he happy? Does he even want to be with you?“ Acacius challenged him.

Telemachus pulled on his cloak, urging him to get on his knee and shut up.

„That doesn’t matter.“ Poseidon shrugged. „He offered, I accepted.“

„Is there really nothing I can do?“ Acacius pleaded.

Poseidon sighed as he leaned his head back, contemplating between just disappearing beneath the waves and drowning the annoying little mortals. Eventually he looked back down at them. „You are determined, I give you that. Coming out all this way in a sail boat with no real plan.“ He leaned on the boat, making it list dangerously. „Let us make a deal. You bring me something of my choosing and I will let your mother go.“

Acacius stood face to face with a god, the one who had made his parents’ life miserable, who had taken his dad from him, who could drown them with just a flick of his finger; and nodded. „Deal.“

Chapter Text

The first time Cleon had come back from the surface, he had brought Polites a bushel of grass. It had been soaking wet, bend and a little flattened from someone sitting on it. Polites had put it in a vase as if it was the most beautiful bouquet.

They sat together on the floor for hours and Cleon told his mother excitedly about all the new things he had seen. 

The second time he brought him flowers. Actual real flowers that looked and smelt like sunshine. Polites held them until they wilted. 

Cleon didn’t return to him after that.

When Polites asked the nymphs, they said he was still on the surface. He believed it. Until he didn’t. Until weeks and months passed. And while his daughter grew in his belly, his son still didn’t come back.

He asked Poseidon about it once. He got no answers.

When his labor pains began, Polites kept quiet. He was determined to go through it by himself. If there was no one at the birth, no one could take his daughter from him.

It was easy to hide early in the day, the contractions still weak enough to not show the discomfort on his face. He ate his breakfast as usual, chatting a little with the nymphs.

He spent the rest of the morning until noon in the pool, letting the warm water soothe his muscles and nerves and later wash away the evidence of his water breaking.

When the nymphs brought him lunch, he ate it quickly, trying his best to downplay his rapidly strengthening contractions as just cramping. Soon after they were gone, he barricaded the door with chair legs, sheets and furniture.

He spent the afternoon on his knees by his own bedside, panting through the contractions and biting pillows to muffle his sobs. „Come on, come on.“ He muttered through gritted teeth, shifting his hips back and forth slightly, trying to speed along the delivery.

Soon the nymphs would be back to bring him his dinner. With blocking the door, he had bought himself time. But the moment it was discovered, time would be quickly running out.

He could feel her now, could feel her pressing down in his pelvis. Polites pressed his arms into the mattress, gripping a pillow tightly as he bore down with all he had, leaving him dripping in sweat and gasping for breath. „Please.“ He whispered as he closed his eyes. „You want to come out too, don’t you?“ He whispered to her. „You want to meet your mom, don’t you?“

He bit his lip so hard it bled and choked down a sob as he pushed. He could feel himself opening up, could feel her head start to emerge. „That’s it, that’s it.“ He grunted and took a steadying breath against the pain. He reached a shaking hand between his legs and could feel the hard shell of her head, could feel the slimy texture of wet hair. „That’s it.“ He whispered and adjusted his position a little.

With the next contraction he had to bite down on a pillow again to muffle the sounds of pain he couldn’t choke down. He pushed fiercely, could feel her little head emerge bit by bit.

The doorknob moved.

Polites whipped his head up and cursed. „Not yet. Please.“ He pleaded quietly.

The doorknob moved again. There were several knocks. „Servestia, are you alright in there?“

Polites took a deep breath and pushed. „Come on, please.“ He whimpered.

„Open this door!“ The door rattled. The barricade groaned.

„Come on, come on, come on.“ Polites muttered like a prayer as he pushed and pushed until he felt lightheaded.

A bang. The door shuddered. „Open up!“

„Go away.“ Polites muttered.

More voices beyond the door. Polites couldn’t make them out. He was running out of time. He needed to deliver his daughter now.

The door shook with another bang. The furniture scraped across the marble floor with a terrible noise. Someone gasped. „She’s in labor! Get the healers! Quickly! Inform Lord Poseidon!“

Polites swore. „Alright, Pen, it’s now or never.“ He grit his teeth and closed his eyes as he pushed.

The door flew open, furniture toppled and screeched across the floor. Many footsteps came running into his direction, a multitude of voices.

„Don’t fucking touch me!“ Polites screamed with his eyes still closed. „Go away!“

„Stay back!“ Someone said. „She’s made it this far alone.“

Polites couldn’t help the little chuckle. At least someone believed in him. He could feel them gathered around him, just a step away. Likely glancing around, unsure what to do.

Her head finally slipped out. Polites gasped and allowed himself just one moment to lay his head on the bed and catch his breath.

A soft hand on his shoulder. „You’re doing great.“ A young voice said gently.

For once it wasn’t out of fear or pain or sadness that Polites sobbed. „Thank you.“ He whispered back.

The hand rubbed his back. „Deep breath in. She’s almost there.“

Polites took a shuddering breath and pushed.

A hand held his’. Someone brushed his hair back. Towels were placed under him. Someone steadied the baby’s head. „Just a little bit more.“

Polites sobbed and groaned and grimaced. He was exhausted, he’d given birth almost entirely by himself and now it had been all for nothing. His baby would be taken away. He would never hold her.

With a grunt Polites pushed and little Penelope entered the world. He could hear her cough and wail as someone else held her. He could hear the nymphs cooing and awing over the newborn.

Someone gently helped him sit down, helped him lean against something soft, placed a light blanket over his shaking body. And then something else was placed on him. A tiny weight, a flailing little thing of a baby, red and covered in fluids and screaming her tiny little lungs out. Polites was too stunned to do anything but hold her and cry.

„You did so great!“ Someone praised him.

„A little girl, you must be so proud!“ Someone wiped a cool cloth over his brow.

„So strong!“ Someone noted.

Polites cried as he held his baby and looked her over. A thick head of dark hair, two eyes, a tiny little nose, all ten fingers and toes. „Thank you.“ He whispered, not knowing who he was thanking. „Thank you.“

Hurried footsteps were getting louder, voices calling to each other. A group of healers came running into the room and froze at the sight in front of them. The first one that recovered began calling orders as the healers surrounded them and pushed the nymphs aside.

Polites held his daughter as tight as he dared and screamed: „Don’t touch her! Go away!“

A healer approached him. „We need to make sure she’s healthy, just-„

Polites spat in his face. „You will not touch her!“

„It’ll just be a moment.“ Someone else tried.

Polites bit at his outstretched hands. As if sensing his distress, Penelope began screaming louder.

„Quiet!“ Poseidon roared.

Everyone immediately fell silent and looked to the god standing in the door. Even the newborn only whimpered quietly.

The god stepped forward, the nymphs quickly made way for him. He casually walked to where Polites was propped up by a small mountain of pillows. He clicked his tongue. „What exactly was your plan here?“ He asked evenly. „Hide her from me? We all knew you were excepting her. Claim you lost her? Not without a body to present instead.“ He knelt next to him. Polites tried to shield his daughter from him. „Not letting go of her? You have to sleep eventually. And I can always just-„

Polites opened his eyes. He was lying in the bed. His hair was damp, he was wearing fresh clothes, the sheets were new.

Penelope was gone. Polites began screaming and sobbing as he hugged himself, trying to find any warmth remaining from the tiny body that had rested against his chest.

There was nothing left.