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That one day was completely not the best day of Poseidon. Clearly.
First troubles on the western shores, then - the sirens had stumbled upon a ship with just a few people. He had to discreetly send them a few more victims so they wouldn't be so hungry.
Sometimes it reminded him of parenting. Not that he was particularly happy about this idea. As if having careless followers wasn't enough.
If that wasn't enough, there was Zeus, who persistently continued telling his stories about earthly adventures that nobody cared about. What the hell difference did it make to him how many people Zeus had slept with that day.
And finally - this coward. Something inside was rising - an unpleasant enormous wave, ready to flood his entire being with a sticky feeling of hatred. Reckless. Stupid. But how could one feel anything else when it came to...
"Odysseus!" Poseidon struck the stone table at which he had been sitting for some time. The blow was so powerful that the furniture itself shook, and from somewhere on the neighboring mountain came the cries of ravens. Zeus disapprovingly glanced at his brother, taking a sip from his goblet and following with his eyes a young girl who was passing by with a tray in her hands.
Poseidon rolled his eyes and snorted angrily. Oh yes, Zeus. As always in his repertoire.
"Don't brood, brother."
"Don't call me that."
"Brood?" Zeus looked a bit suffisant.
"Brother"
Poseidon frowned even more.
"Only if you stop talking about this mortal. What did he do that was so terrible? Killed your son?" Zeus took another sip and a tired smile flashed across his face.
Oh Great Titans. A tired smile on Zeus's face, what the hell was he tired from? From casting glances at half-dressed girls and boys? From the best damn wine in the whole world?
Zeus was definitely another reason why Poseidon's day wasn't going well.
"What did he... damn it... do? THIS is what you`re asking me?"
"Pff, calm down. Never thought you were such a family man."
Zeus was right, he wasn't. Poseidon exhaled convulsively, mentally trying to calm down. Unfortunately, he was doing terribly at it. So terribly that the tip of his beard began to move in barely noticeable waves.
"It's not about me." He looked at Zeus from under his brow, "and not about my family. Really, fuck my son. Its not abought him"
"Woah..."
"Not in that sence you pervert piece of titan shit, you shouldn't be allowed near anything that moves" - Poseidon frowned with even more anger. The fact that Zeus seemed immensely proud of his joke didn't help matters at all.
"It's about what he did."
"Odysseus." Zeus nodded understandingly.
Poseidon was ready to groan in despair. God, who was he trying to prove what to? To the one who had helped this Odysseus at the beginning of his journey?
"Mhm. Athena's chosen one," he found the strength to squeeze out a weak attempt at explanation.
"Not anymore," Hermes interrupted as he passed by. Poseidon glanced at him - this scoundrel always knew when not to appear. And always did it with brilliance.
"Not anymore?" Zeus raised an eyebrow with interest, instantly switching attention to the new gossip. And this was the supreme god. Poseidon pursed his lips.
"Actually still yes, but they're in a prolonged fight... Well, I thought you knew that, well," he glanced at Poseidon. Probably this action was supposed to be inconspicuous, but Hermes never succeeded at such things, "didn't think Poseidon would sacrifice relations with a god for some mortal."
Poseidon instantly rose to his feet. His long hair swayed in time with his words, as if emphasizing each one especially strongly.
"This is a matter of honor."
"Mhm," mumbled Zeus, seemingly extremely uninterested in continuing the dialogue.
"I'll deal with him yet. It's not about Athena, but about personal offense."
"Uh-huh," Zeus didn't even raise his eyes to him. Ashole. GodASS ashole.
"Yes, we understand, you're developing another hate obsession," Hermes snickered, seemingly losing interest in the conversation. Although, knowing him, he could just have been pretending to lose interest.
"Oh, get away from me! I never NEVER had any of these... hate obsessions." Poseidon shook his head.
Maybe once or twice. No more. It was pleasant to live hating someone.
"Of course, uncle," Hermes flew into the air, winking at the god in whose eyes a hurricane was beginning to splash.
"You! Little shit!"
...
When Poseidon learned that Odysseus had ended up on Circe's island, something inside him responded with unpleasant discontent.
Now he would be stuck there for several years or, even worse, would be killed. This wasn't right. The one who should kill him should be Poseidon. He should see his blood and hear his death rattles. It couldn't be that some... pathetic nymph dealt with this with her underhanded tricks.
It seemed laughable. He hated this man, which meant he had to be worthy of his hatred. If putting the question this way - Odysseus had to be worthy of his hatred and had no right to die.
In any case, he didn't stop Hermes when he, trying to be inconspicuous, rushed past with some flowers. He knew who they were for. Maybe it would have given him pleasure to follow his nephew and enjoy the scene of Odysseus's humiliation, but now he had too many things to do.
He also didn't stop Hermes when he ran to warn Circe, and then looked for special glasses to observe the duel.
Let the gods have fun in their divine way.
....
Coming to Hades that evening wasn't a necessity, but rather a gesture of will.
Intuition, if you wanted to call it that. As if something was pulling him there, reminding that he hadn't paid a courtesy visit in a long time.
Therefore, when he arrived at...
Poseidon grabbed some heavy air not taking his eyes off the man at the edge of the cliff.
Oh.
It was he who had made Odysseus a monster. It was he who had hardened his soul, it was he who had planted hatred in it, it was he who had made his voice more determined.
Oh.
From this realization, shivers ran down his cold skin, giving birth to a strange pleasant feeling inside. Satisfaction. Oh, he would make this man hate, he would make him hate as strongly as only a mortal could hate.
Hate him, Poseidon. Only him.
This realization was so good. Almost poetically beautiful - Poseidon was sure that Hades would appreciate this thought.
His eyes followed the man unblinkingly as he shouted something into the void with cruelty. Poseidon liked that Odysseus had decided to outsmart him. He liked that he hadn't expected this, he liked understanding that his enemy was clever, oh how clever and desperate.
He heard his name, which the man spat out with disgust, and the corners of his eyes darkened with deep satisfaction. Yes. Odysseus was worth hating.
Definitely worth it, if this hatred made the whole body tense like a string. He would give this an outlet yet. But not now. Not in these domains.
...
Poseidon sharply raised his head, looking intently at Apollo. The day was drawing to sunset, painting the waves near the shore in a reddish tint. Very poetic. Poseidon would hardly admit that this was exactly why he sometimes came out here.
Though usually without company in the form of an imposing self-confident youngster.
"What did you say??"
Poseidon looked at Apollo, who, having settled on a stone as if it were the finest royal throne, continued humming something under his breath.
"Huh?" Apollo wrinkled his neat nose, "about Odysseus?"
Of course. Who else could it be about, damn it. It was always Odysseus, after everything they had made him go through.
"Not only did he kill the sirens, but he also got to the cows...," muttered the god, plucking the strings on his instrument. Seemed today it was a lyre, "never mind, Zeus will deal with this impudent one, oh how he'll deal..."
"Zeus?" Poseidon frowned distrustfully, "what is he planning?"
"Oh, you know"
The grin on Apollo's face became slightly mischievous as he rose to his feet.
"Nothing fatal, don't worry. We all know about your little... dependency. No one will kill him."
The god laughed and walked away from the shore with a light step.
Poseidon's eyebrows lowered as he followed the departing Apollo with his gaze. Whatever Zeus had thought up - it shouldn't be too cruel. Odysseus shouldn't hate anyone more strongly than he hated Poseidon.
No one should hate Odysseus more strongly than Poseidon hated him. No one else could feel this all-encompassing intoxicating feeling.
Probably Hermes was right. Poseidon was mature enough to admit that. He had some sort of hate-obsession. And it was exactly this feeling that made him remarkably whole, complete. Oh yes. He knew exactly what he wanted.
...
Seven years were a difficult time.
It was driving him mad. Hatred, endless feeling of hatred.
He would cast glances at Calypso's island from Olympus. Nothing serious, he wasn't going to help. He caught rumors with the edge of his ear.
And, what was even more important, he couldn't find his place.
The feeling was becoming sharper, more necessary. He needed to grab Odysseus by the hair, he needed to hear curses directed at him, he needed to taste his enemy's blood, he needed to...
"Hephaestus, can you make my trident stronger?"
The god turned his eyes in surprise, not looking up from his anvil. This was already a sign that Poseidon had managed to interest him. Hephaestus rarely took his eyes off his work.
Sparks were flying in the forge. The temperature seemed to be rising higher with each second - a little more and Poseidon would start to boil.
"Why do you need to make it stronger? It's already a divine weapon."
"The titans see it that way," Poseidon raised his hand to run his fingertips along the bright, unstained steel, "but I need it to be stronger."
Hephaestus stopped for a moment, most likely catching the commanding, excited notes in Poseidon's tone. With a sigh, he raised tongs in the air and lifted with them the sword that lay on his anvil.
"I'll do it. I'll make your trident stronger."
A wave of anticipation instantly spread through Poseidon's body. His weapon had to be strong if he planned to fight Odysseus again. It would either cut through his weak, tender human flesh like paper, and give Poseidon a moment of pleasure in the opportunity to look into eyes full of hatred, or...
Poseidon shuddered at the thought that came after "or". And this was a pleasant shiver of anticipation.
How pleasant it was to hate someone so strongly.
...
"God, who do they take me for. Release Odysseus - after they asked me to lock him up."
Zeus looked grim. Very grim. In several kingdoms, probably right now a storm was raging.
Hearing these words, Poseidon jerked sharply. He didn't even try to hide the fact of his interest. However, Zeus was too busy to notice this. He angrily ran his hand through his beard and adjusted his impeccable, albeit somewhat chaotic, hairstyle.
"First Athena, now - Hermes. Who's next? Hera? You?"
He snorted, as if enjoying his joke. But Poseidon barely heard what his brother was saying. Inside, a familiar half-forgotten wave was rising. How he had missed this. Soon, very soon, he would achieve what he had been waiting for so long. Complete attention, all his deserved hatred.
"What the hell are they asking for something like this now? I had to fight with my own daughter because of a mortal."
Poseidon again didn't answer anything. He watched how the supreme god's chest rose angrily, while his fingers convulsively gripped the handle of his weapon tighter.
Zeus would do this. Oh, he was always weak before people and before the requests of his children. Zeus would do this and then, finally, Poseidon would touch what he had been preparing for so long. Not running, not avoiding. Even the worst outcome would be what he so desired.
Because he needed a battle. He needed blood and undivided hatred, only his, only Odysseus's, endless and slippery. No love, no weakness, no other emotions. Only what really made thoughts curl and turned white sea foam into wine.
"Maybe you should."
"Huh?" Zeus looked at Poseidon in bewilderment as he rose from where he was sitting.
"Maybe you should let him go."
Poseidon slowly turned around, walking towards the sea with heavy steps.
Zeus turned his head, watching as his brother disappeared among the tall restless waves. Wow. Maybe he really should allow Odysseus to leave.
...
Poseidon stood in the middle of the raging storm and, witness all Gods and Titans together, he was so indulging in this feeling. The salty wind wandered in his loose hair, turning them into knots and raising waves. This was his element, this was his place.
This was the man he had been waiting for so long before him.
The adrenaline from the upcoming battle made his heart beat faster, making his hands grip the trident, making a sharp-toothed smile bloom on his face.
Odysseus.
There he stood - alone on his tiny boat, so mortal and so... furious.
"There you are, coward"
The hair behind his back was slowly and steadily ruffled by the wind. Oh, how long he had waited for the opportunity to say these words. They curled like nectar on the tip of his tongue. He felt so good now, he felt so good indulging in his own hatred and the expression on the face of the man standing under his feet.
Odysseus, so tiny, so confused. A strand of Poseidon's hair caught the wind and sprayed it in the face of the man below him.
"I've been waiting for this moment, For the perfect time to strike..."
The god leaned lower - out of desire to tease and out of desire to see the loss closer. To see how the fury in his opponent's eyes began to grow, to see how he would lose his temper. Now Poseidon was in his divine form - and he had never felt so whole. As if the sea and fury mixed in equal proportions, as if he existed only to direct his trident at Odysseus.
"Oh, how do you like this, Odysseus? Your home is so close..." Poseidon glanced at the land behind his land. Hardly enough for a mortal to attack, especially from his pathetic raft.
He just wanted to clearly convey his thought. Simple, obvious, bright. Odysseus had to hate him.
"So I can't go letting you walk...or else the world forgets I'm cold"
He hadn't been cold for a long time and this made him feverish. A world without this burning passion, without this tart, gum-burning feeling that he had experienced for more than seven years - what kind of world would it be now.
But Odysseus didn't need to know about this.
He was a simple mortal. He wouldn't be able to understand this buzzing pleasure in the veins. Poseidon leaned even lower, so low that a little more - and Odysseus could touch his face even by just stirring.
Fingers gripped the trident in a death grip. Yes. Just what was needed. This was worth the wait. He felt how the air slowly became heavier - either from the storm or from the approaching battle.
"Wait..."
Oh, of course. This was Odysseus. The glorious, righteous king of Ithaca, who had sacrificed six hundred people. Of course he would try to negotiate.
"Be quiet."
Poseidon threw his head back and his hair flowed down his back, along with his height. He flowed, he felt how water danced in his body, danced as it had danced from the first kindled spark of fury. He looked straight into the eyes - exactly where he wanted to look. But Odysseus's eyes were tired. They were not full of fury, as the god would have liked.
"Aren't you tired, Poseidon?" Odysseus was the first to look away. Oh, how pitiful. This was absolutely not what the boiling hatred in his veins needed.
Poseidon dives into the water. Just for a moment, he knows that Odysseus won't have time to run away, he has nowhere to run. He just wants to play.
Bad habit. But he could afford it---he could afford to let the adrenaline surge in his chest. Poseidon leaned close, so close he could almost feel the shiver racing across Odysseus's skin under his lips.
"No. I'll never tire of hating you. Never."
He felt the tremble in Odysseus, felt it against his lips, brushing against the skin of his opponent with every word. Odysseus suddenly jerked back, breaking from Poseidon's closeness, and lunged with his sword, aiming for the god. Poseidon only smirked.
This was something.
"So, are we finally going to play? Step into the water. Come closer. Drown in your hatred." That was all Poseidon could think when Odysseus took a step, disappearing beneath the waves.
He didn't consider for a second that Odysseus might be dead. Oh, he had waited too long, believed too long to lose faith so easily.
So when Odysseus rose from the water, a grin on his face, Poseidon wasn't surprised. But a sharp thrill coursed through him---a thrill of battle, of good battle, of battle with Odysseus.
"I don't think you seem to get it. I can't afford to die."
With every word, Odysseus's strikes grew fiercer. Poseidon felt every shudder, that liquid hatred saturating the air, seeping from every word, from every movement.
"Because I will get back to my son. And I will get back to my wife."
Wife. Son. Such small things, so insignificant compared to this desire, this breath-stealing hatred. And then a sudden, cutting pain struck his side.
Poseidon felt the cold metal sinking into his flesh. A hoarse groan tore from his chest, raw and unrestrained. He was certain that every god watching from the heavens knew this feeling. Hatred intoxicated him, the fight rushed through his veins, and this man was so much more than just another foe.
"Can't you see? You sealed your fate just to beat me." Blood trickled from the corner of Poseidon's mouth as he watched Odysseus, his gaze alight with fury. Sharp rocks dug into his back, amplifying the raw, aching feeling coursing through him.
But he couldn't stop smiling.
"Now you'll never get back." Never had sounded so good, so right, as he looked into his enemy's burning eyes. Odysseus looked like he could tear down an army, overthrow gods.
And Poseidon wanted to believe it was all for him.
"You're going to call off that storm." Odysseus's quiet voice cut through the air, making Poseidon gasp. He shouldn't have revealed how much this excited him.
Odysseus wouldn't beg, wouldn't plead. Poseidon saw the eyes he had longed to see for so long, the look he had craved, that wretched, bitter longing that consumed him.
It was disgusting, and he was willing to admit it---because he was a god. Gods didn't fear their desires.
"Or what? You can't kill me." The smirk spread wider across Poseidon's face. He had waited too long for this to end it now, and he would savor this hatred to the very last.
"Exactly."
Odysseus's voice hardened, just barely audible over the waves crashing around them. Yet his opponent leaned down, seizing the weapon Poseidon had dropped.
Ah. Damn. His own weapon. It was harder to hide the shudder now. Poseidon caught his reflection in the raised trident---and oh, how clearly he saw the anticipation and hate reflected back.
"Wait---" His flesh was pierced by the cold, divine metal.
But that wasn't what mattered. It was who wielded the metal. He couldn't look away from Odysseus, whose hands clamped around his neck in a sudden, ruthless grip. He choked---a sound he barely recognized as his own, a blend of pain and pleasure, something nowhere near defeat.
The sea roared with his ecstasy, life gathering in his veins, pulsing wherever Odysseus's bloodied fingers made contact with his cold skin.
"How does it feel to be helpless? How does it feel to know pain?" Odysseus's words pierced him deeper than any weapon. Poseidon shuddered, each syllable drawing a hoarse sound from him. This was the pain he had dreamed of, the pain he had desired, pain at the hands of someone stronger.
"You said the world was dark... Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our---"
If this wasn't so agonizingly good, he would have laughed.
Oh, yes. Odysseus had no idea what he was doing to him. He couldn't see the waves of pleasure and pain rippling through him, didn't recognize that this, this feeling of his flesh meeting cold steel, was something Poseidon craved. The look in Odysseus's eyes, that steady flow of hatred... Poseidon trembled. He would have given anything for this to go on forever.
He felt it. Loudly, painfully. He heard his own bones shattering, his insides twisted into a bloody mess by his own weapon.
Yet his gaze never wavered from Odysseus, whose eyes were locked onto the god. The corner of Poseidon's mouth twitched, a smirk filled with defiance, tinged with mockery. The sight of his blood on his enemy's face, that disgust and beauty mingling---it was perfect.
On the hundredth strike, the cold steel no longer burned; it was warm with his own blood.
How he loved that sight---his blood on Odysseus's hands, on his own body, staining his enemy's face. He didn't need Odysseus's pathetic tenderness, his kisses, his pity.
All he wanted was Odysseus's undivided hatred. His attention. The privilege of having it. It filled his veins, overflowed with every harsh breath he took.
On the three hundredth strike, all Poseidon could see was the wild, red-hot hatred burning in Odysseus's eyes. Unmasked, raw.
Oh, yes. Before him stood a monster. A monster driving his trident through Poseidon's chest. The face of a monster, painted in the god's blood, lips stretched in a crazed, mad smile. His own blood pouring from his wound, staining his enemy's face.
On the six hundredth strike, Poseidon realized he wanted this to last forever. For pleasure to surge with every fresh pain, for his eyes to never leave his enemy's, for the air to reek only of hatred---hatred so thick it felt almost physical.
"Stop..."
He had to say it. The hoarse sound caught in Poseidon's throat as he forced out the word, clinging to the seascape, to the gleaming weapon in Odysseus's hands, to anything but his face, anything but those eyes blazing with hatred, anything but the blood streaking down that hated, beautiful face.
If he didn't stop, Poseidon knew something inside him would break.
He had to stop, or else he simply wouldn't have withstood it. Otherwise, something inside would break from the desire to consume this man completely, along with his hatred, his contempt, his anger and fury---the very sight of which sent him into ecstasy.
"Please."
Poseidon leaned his head back, watching as Odysseus walked away. His shoulders were still held high, his stance still tense. Ready for battle. Poseidon tried to take a breath, but his lungs refused to listen, still spilling blood everywhere around him.
He saw Odysseus carelessly toss his trident into the sea with the casual grace of a victor. Poseidon closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.
This was the end.
The hatred was fading, and the sky was beginning to clear.
To his joy, it was the end. To his regret.
"Well, I didn't expect... that kind of performance from you..." a deep, contemplative voice echoed from somewhere on his right.
Poseidon groaned inwardly, not even bothering to open his eyes.
He was too exhausted, too satisfied with the remnants of pain radiating through his body.
He was definitely not ready for a conversation with his fucking brother.