Chapter Text
“No thank you,” Odysseus says, pushing the plate back towards Eurylochus. The man frowns.
“Captain, you need to eat.”
“The crew’s afraid of me,” Odysseus says quietly. Helios’s island is small, their temporary camp for the night is smaller, and voices carry. “Their lives were in my hands, and they’ve realized how much their mutiny could have cost them. If I eat their food, it’ll only increase their resentment.”
“They’re not afraid,” Eurylochus retorts. “They feel guilty.”
Odysseus can’t deny the twinge of satisfaction he feels at his second-in-command’s words, but he shakes his head regardless. “They feel indebted. That’s not the same thing.”
“Captain-”
“I’m not hungry,” he says, loud enough for the men on the other side of their camp to hear. “Distribute any remaining meat among the crew.” It’s a trick he used during the war - raising his voice enough for any dissent to be perceived as direct insubordination. Eurylochus never openly challenged him then, but now-
Eurylochus sighs as he turns away. Despite his misgivings, he knows as well as Odysseus that any hint of public conflict between them so soon after a mutiny will only break the fragile peace. “Of course, captain,” he says, and only Odysseus can hear the minutely fond irritation in his voice. He tucks a half-smile into his fist.
The crew don’t speak to him, which Odysseus understands. They do watch him while they think he’s not looking, whispering amongst themselves. Odysseus clings to the high spirits escaping Zeus’s wrath has inspired within him, trying to ignore the hunger and loneliness clawing at his insides.
- - -
Between the hunger, the guilt, and the fear of another mutiny - although would it really be mutiny if Odysseus isn’t sure what his current standing is among the crew? - Odysseus doesn’t sleep well that night. He drifts off a few times but something - the crashing of waves, or a man’s shout in his sleep - always startles him awake, and after a few hours, he stops trying.
He had gratefully accepted the offer of sleeping in the captain’s tent when Eurylochus offered, but the air inside tastes like blood and guilt, and not half the night has passed before he drags himself outside instead, pacing and staring at the sea blocking their way home. He is alone as he does so. Eurylochus hadn’t instituted a night watch - why bother, when they’d just escaped a wrathful god and there was no civilization on the island to endanger them? Odysseus is therefore the first person to notice Zeus materializing a stone’s throw above the captain’s tent.
“Zeus, god-king, lord of the heavens,” he shouts, loud enough that he hopes his crew take the warning and wake. “Thank you for blessing us with your presence.”
“Right, right,” Zeus says, waving his hand as if to dismiss Odysseus’s formalities. “I come with another prophecy.”
Odysseus stares in disbelief. “What?”
“See, I just realized - you killed another cow, didn’t you? That means the curse upon you is doublefold.” Zeus grins, teeth sharp. “So I ask you again: You? Or your crew?”
“…What?” Odysseus repeats, bleary-eyed. “Are you- Are you making me choose between my crew and myself again?”
He probably shouldn’t be talking to the king of the gods with the same tone he took with Argos when he was young and his dog had dragged in his fifth dead bird of the week, but he can’t stop himself. Why couldn’t the gods leave him alone?
Zeus, thankfully, doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone. “Yes. And no tricks this time. You can’t just choose some random cow. What do you choose?”
“Well, that’s difficult,” he says, straining for a way to stall. “I’ll, um. Need to think about it.”
“Again?” Zeus asks - whines, really, like a petulant child. Odysseus stares at his crew, who as a whole are looking far more bewildered than alarmed as they stumble out of their tents. He raises an eyebrow at them. A few shrug back.
“Yes, my lord,” he says eventually. “Please, grant me this freedom. I must be given some time to think before making this, uh, exceedingly difficult decision.”
“Fine,” Zeus grumbles, and goes to the shore to sulk.
Eurylochus, with wild bedhead and brows so high they seem to have joined his hairline, meets him privately.
“What will you do, captain?”
“I don’t know, Eurylochus,” he says, groaning. “I thought we were done with this. I can’t believe-” He blinks at how Eurylochus’s posture has tightened. “What.”
“You don’t know what you’ll choose?”
It takes a few minutes for the words to land, probably because he’s hungry and exhausted. He doesn’t have the energy to flinch back when they do, so he settles for a glare. “Are you serious? No, I’m not going to choose to kill you. Or myself,” he amends, when Eurylochus still looks concerned. “Why would I do that when I had the chance yesterday?”
“Well- you heard Zeus,” Eurylochus reasons, though Odysseus’s words have caused all the tension to drain from his figure. “You have to choose one or the other, and he said he won’t let you choose a random cow like last time.”
“I know, I know- Wait.” He looks up slowly.
Eurylochus meets his eyes, a grin of anticipation slowly spreading across his features. It’s the same look Eurylochus gave him before Odysseus drew up the plans for the wooden horse, and nostalgia curls bittersweetly in Odysseus’s gut. For a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed. “You have an idea?”
“I think so,” he says. “But… I’ll need your help.”
- - -
An hour later, Odysseus stands and clears his throat. Zeus whirls towards him, eager.
“Yes?” he demands. “Who do you choose?”
Odysseus turns towards Eurylochus and the thirty-five other men that make up his crew. “I- I’m so sorry, Eurylochus,” he says, voice breaking.
Eurylochus startles. “No. Wait, Captain, no, you can’t.” His sword climbs an inch out of its scabbard. “You promised to keep all of us safe! You promised!”
The crew, previously lulled into a complacency by Eurylochus’s calmness, immediately draw their swords in unison and begin shouting.
Odysseus shakes his head, dizzy. Is he crying? He thinks he’s crying. “Eurylochus, you heard Zeus. I don’t have a choice.”
“You- You bastard!” Perimedes screams. “You’d spare us one day, only to execute us the next?” He lunges forward, but Eurylochus grabs the back of his tunic. “Let go of me!”
“It’s no use,” Eurylochus says, grim. “There is no stopping the will of the gods.”
“We can’t just-”
“The second-in-command is right, boy,” Zeus booms, and Perimedes stills as all of Zeus’s attention centers on him. “There is no thwarting my will, nor that of fate. Now, mortal, tell me what you have chosen.”
Odysseus clenches his jaw, trying to hold back his emotion. “I choose… Buttercup.”
“NO!” Eurylochus howls, and falls to his knees sobbing. “Captain, please, not her! WHY?”
“It’s for the greater good!” Odysseus screams back, voice cracking. “It’s so we get home safe!”
Zeus’s jaw has dropped. “Who- Who’s Buttercup? What are you talking about?”
“That’s Buttercup,” Eurylochus says, and points to-
A cow. It’s grazing near where the boat is docked, visibly unconcerned by the bawling men, the baffled god, or the stunned crew.
Zeus stares at it, then at Odysseus. “Explain.”
“She’s our cow,” Odysseus explains wearily, even as his tears fall. “She’s been with us through thick and thin, and survived great tragedies. We raised her since she was young, and she’s-” His voice breaks. “She’s the most precious cow in the world to me. I can hardly imagine life without her.”
“And still, you sacrifice her to appease the gods,” Zeus says, looking pleased. “Though, she looks rather… golden. Is she not one of Helios’s-”
Eurylochus wails loudly, cutting Zeus off. “She is worth her weight in gold, yes!” he cries, distraught. “And she has a heart of gold, forever mild and gentle. We all love her and cherish her like nothing else in this world!”
“All of you?” Zeus asks slowly. A thread of suspicion enters his voice. “The rest of your men seem… less than sympathetic to this bovine’s plight.”
Odysseus tenses. “They- They will soon become agitated, my lord. They are just… slower to react than my second in command. They do not yet realize what I propose.”
“You FOOLS!” Eurylochus cries to the men gathered around him, his shaking voice touching the sky. “Do you not see what the captain is doing? He seeks to sacrifice Buttercup, our most beloved animal companion, to save our wretched skins for another day! Would you not rather die here and now?”
There’s a beat of silence.
And then Perimedes steps forward, pointing his sword at Odysseus in a way that evokes a stunning amount of deja vu. “You villain!” he shrieks, voice pitched high. “Not Buttercup! You can’t!”
Odysseus makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, one that sounds just as much like laughter as it does a choked sob. “Perimedes, I-”
“Buttercup taught me the meaning of love!” another crewman screams, and Odysseus clutches his heart in what looks like a paroxysm of agony and guilt.
More voices join the chorus quickly: “That cow has saved my life ten times over!”
“I love her more than I love anyone on this godsforsaken ship!”
“If Buttercup dies, my heart dies with her!”
Odysseus is shaking where he stands, face buried in his hands. “My crew, please-”
“You have made your choice, Odysseus of Ithaca?” Zeus asks, visibly delighted by the crew’s preemptive mourning and fury.
“Please, don’t make me do this,” Odysseus begs, feeling faint.
“Choose!” Zeus demands, and Odysseus points to the innocent cow.
Zeus laughs and snaps his fingers. In a moment, Buttercup is nothing more than charred, dead meat. Eurylochus wails, fever-pitch, and Odysseus falls to his knees. Zeus disappears in a puff of smoke.
For a moment, there is nothing but ringing silence.
And then Odysseus snorts into his hands, and Eurylochus’s crying morphs into snickering, and Perimedes hesitates and says, “Wait, Buttercup wasn’t really our cow, was she?” and then in an instant, all thirty-seven men are howling with laughter.
“I can’t believe that worked, Odysseus, thank the gods - or rather, thank you,” Eurylochus says breathlessly. He clasps Odysseus’s hand and yanks him up, sending blood rushing to Odysseus’s head. “I never would have thought to- Captain? Are you alright?”
Odysseus opens his mouth to respond, dazed, and then the world flickers dark. When his eyes open next, he has a beautiful view of the clear sky. There’s shouting somewhere, distant. Eurylochus’s face appears, swaying dizzily. He looks panicked.
Just keep your eyes open, someone begs him, either in the confines of his own mind or outside of it, but tiredness sweeps over him in waves and he’s helpless to its pull. The sky is so blue, and then so black, and then he’s gone.