Chapter Text
The story goes as told.
The God of the Underworld and the Ruler of the Rogues coveted the power that which Odysseus, King of the Gods, held over Olympus, the sky and the realm of man.
So, in a fit of jealousy, he sought to kidnap the Governess of the Seven Seas and Queen of the Dieties, Penelope. A ploy meant to throw off the king in an effort to overthrow His Majesty.
But his plans went awry and his hook instead took the midriff of the Prince of Spring, God of Youth and Patron of Philia—one Prince Telemachus.
And as they descended down the depths of Hades, chaos and mayhem followed suit.
The Lord of the Mind and the Horizons had been lost before after the war waged against the Titans, and it hadn't been long since his return. So to greet the morning with news of your son's abduction wasn't something to be taken with ease.
Much less by the Mother of the Hearth and Home, Goddess of Grief.
The two Gods marched down the Underworld with seething rage and a purpose, willing to make of anything just to get their darling son back in their arms. Even if it was at the price of worldly imbalance, divine or not.
A hundred and eight rogue Gods faced them at the mouth of the Underworld, and the ichor of a hundred and eight gods painted the banks of the river.
This confrontation had minor but essential gods leaving the mortal realm without proper ruling, and with the Prince of Spring locked up in hell—it just goes to say that hymns and homilies will forever sing tales of mortal death from a divine tragedy, as it usually goes.
Except, it reached to the extent where the rest of the chthonic dieties and even those of Olympus can no longer ignore it.
They pleaded with Penelope, to no avail. And they pleaded with Odysseus, to no avail.
So they sought to plead and negotiate with Antinous instead, also to no avail. None of the Gods, not the nymphs, nor the shades knew where the cowardly God hid, nor of where he had the Young Prince stashed away.
In the end, Great Titaness and Queen of the Night had to cradle the King and Queen asleep to calm the tides at least, even just a little bit. And this was when Antinous finally re-emerged with Prince Telemachus in tow.
Let it be known that the Prince was quick-witted and smart, silver-tongued and strong-willed. How he managed to end up cursed by Antinous' side? Plausible, but raises suspiciouns nonetheless.
He was found with traces of pomegranate seeds along his cheeks and juices of red along his swollen lips. And a ring of obsidian with embedded jewels shining a beautiful raven sheen against Prince Telemachus' fair-tan finger—one that matched Antinous' own.
"We have been wedded," they announced to the world. Antinous, with great pride, and Telemachus, with guilt painting his ocean-green eyes.
The gods then sought to arrange the return of balance to the world. The storms have been calmed and barren lands have been tilted fertile once more under the Spring Prince patronage, all the while his parents are still in deep slumber.
"Good evening, my love," Poseidon lazily greeted his husband as he rose from where he lay in his prison of spring water and wet rocks—as much as his chains would allow anyway.
"The sun's risen, my dear," Polites replies with a smile bright as always. He walkes along the path to Poseidon's spring well and lays a soft kiss upon his husband's gigantic hand. He was the size of a pebble against Poseidon's titan form, but it does little to hinder the Morning God's acts of affection.
"Forgive me, dear," Poseidon quips with a yawn. "It isn't exactly the sunniest place in existence." He eyes his prison, a large, ornate gate locking him within, and surrounded by nothing but glowing rocks and algae.
Polites only giggles as he sets down his large satchel of treats and pastries.
"But to what do I owe the visit, I'm pretty damn sure Tartarus isn't due for visits until next month—" Polites takes a large loaf of bread, meant for him and him only, and takes a bite. "—not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'd take your visits any time of the day, I swear."
Polites is silent for a few seconds as her chews neatly and properly, before plopping down on his husband's outstretched palms and settling in as he snacks.
"It gets a little lonely in here." Poseidon places his palm where Polites sits closer to his chest as he too, lays down to relax on his little underground lake, the rattling of chains a grating noise but not one they both are unused to.
"Do you remember Odysseus?" Polites starts after a few more beats of silence, loaf of bread wholly finished before he reaches to grab another pastry. Poseidon only scoffs.
"Hard to forget, husband. He's the one who put me in here in the first place," Poseidon replies, voice bitter but with dulled edges to his tone.
"In his defense, you tried to kill me."
"I tried to kill all of you!" Poseidon exclaimed and Polites levels him a look. "Which isn't the best argument... in hindsight."
"Exactly." Polites takes another bite.
"But it was my brother who led the war, I was merely an accomplice," Poseidon pouts.
"That's not the justification you think it is, my love." Poseidon pouts even more. "But quit it, I'm not here to argue with you."
"Oh, really?"
"I'm here to bring news," Polites says, raising a piece of flatbread towards his husband's lips. It was the size of a grain compared to the titan-god but Poseidon took it with appreciation.
"Gossip?" He asks with an eyebrow raised and a smirk to his lips.
"... Yes, actually." Polites hesitates but confesses with little shame. "Hard to refute since this is most likely the most intriguing of tales I might just sing to you."
"Sing to me then, beloved," Poseidon smiles as he falls deeper down his little lake. "Messenger of the Gods, what tales have you for me today."