Chapter Text
As Poseidon nervously took the trek up to his bedroom, his thoughts raced with the events from that night. He had seen Antinous, but he still didn’t quite believe it. On the other hand, it had all been so real. The way he carried himself as if he were better than any one, the way his face had flashed from anger to a sly smile so quickly, those traits were all fundamental aspects of Antinous. The differences between his friend in life and death did no more to help the events feel less real. All the changes– the grey hue that had settled into his skin, the slight dullness to his skin, and the chains– they all helped to solidify that the apparition had been dead for seven years.
Poseidon’s fate was sealed. He was doomed to be bound by chains that were formed by his many, many misdeeds.Poseidon knew what he had done; he knew that he was cruel, but he still did them. Not even the bliss of ignorance could save him. He was no longer ignorant of what came after death; he could no longer be ignorant of the consequences to his actions.
All of the terrible deeds Poseidon had committed came rushing to his mind. Every cruel eviction (he had even evicted people who had missed the mortgage because they were caring for a sick child!) every cruel word said to his only family, every time he had treated his lone employee terribly, every time he put money over people. However, Poseidon could feel no remorse for what he had done. Why should he? There was no way to change his fate; he could not dig himself out of the hole he had created. So, he would continue living as he did, forging a new chain with every step.
With a steeled mental state, he dressed for bed and crawled under the covers. Poseidon tried not to let his mind dwell on the events of the day, and at all costs, he did not let himself believe that there could be hope to change his fate. If the spirits that Antinous warned him about did come, they would not be able to change Poseidon’s fate; they only came to mock him.
Soon, sleep coaxed Poseidon into its comforting embrace, where no thoughts could force open his mind and give him new worries for the coming day. As he slept, he had strange dreams, but none strange enough to pull him from the grasp of rest.
Once the clock let out one lone chime, Poseidon bolted upright. At first, he could not understand why; he could not remember a dream or an unusual noise that caused him to stir. However, once he recovered his senses and looked at his clock, he understood why. Some part of his mind had been so fearful of what was predicted to come that it had awoken him, but nothing seemed out of sorts. There was no apparition in his bedroom.
Poseidon sighed; of course Antinous had lied to him. Sometimes, when his associate was alive, Poseidon had wondered if Antinous and Hermes were meeting up to scheme the best way to get under Poseidon’s skin. However, this did help to further solidify the fact that it really had been the ghost of Antinous who had visited him that evening. With a little comfort of knowing he would not see anymore ghostly figures that night (and a quiet increase to the fear that his fate was truly sealed, destined to be bound by the chains of his sins) Poseidon laid back down.
Just as his head hit the pillows, a bright, unearthly light bathed the room. It was blinding. Once Poseidon could see again, due to a combination of the light dimming and his eyes adjusting, he could make out a tall, regal figure.
“Are you the spirit whom I was told about? The one who has come to guide me?” Poseidon asked nervously.
With a quick nod the figure replied, “I am here to show you your past. If you keep these in mind, you may just have a chance to change your fate, assuming you take the advice of the other spirits of course.” Her voice was just as regal as her appearance. Her posture was straight, as one would be in battle, but her posture also had a looseness to it that signified she could move quickly. This proved to be true, for when she did move it was swift and elegant, almost as if she were gilding. For all Poseidon knew, she could be gliding. Her dress and cloak both reached the floor,covering most of her figure, but what Poseidon could make out of her figure was muscular, complemented nicely by long, red hair tucked neatly into a thick braid.
Timidly, Poseidon dared to ask another question, “May I have your name, Spirit?”
“I do not have a name,” she responded, “but you may call me Athena. Now, follow me so that I can show you the beginning of your journey.” She swiftly made her way to the window and opened it, motioning for Poeisidon to step through it.
Poseidon cleared his throat nervously before speaking to the spirit. “Athena, I am mortal; if I leave through the widow I will fall to my demise.”
Athena huffed impatiently, “You will not fall. Now follow me; we don’t have all night.”
As Athena gracefully made her way through the window, a large, ornate chariot pulled by two majestic winged horses materialized under her feet. Poseidon followed, practically tripping into the chariot. Athena urged the winged horses forward, and they took off over the streets of London.
The view was one that most mortal men were not blessed to see, and while it was still marvelous, the sight was not as magnificent as one might think. London was a dirty city; everyone knew that. However, when viewed from a bird’s eye, the city seemed worse. All the filth of every street could be seen from above. There were collapsing roofs and decaying walls at every corner. London did not look like the grand city Poseidon liked to believe it was. It looked like a nightmare for anyone who had no other place they could go.
Soon, a soft glow could be seen in the distance that steadily grew brighter. For a brief moment Poseidon thought that it could be dawn, but that thought was quickly doused. While familiar, the light was not a warm glow of the coming morning, but rather that unearthly glow that he had seen far too many times that night.
“Athena, what is that strange glow on the horizon?” Poseidon asked.
Athena gave a disappointed huff as if she had expected him to figure it out already, “That is the past, which I will be showing you tonight.”
The glow drew closer and soon enveloped them in a bright flash. Poseidon shielded his eyes and waited for the light to calm. When he opened his eyes, he was startled at the familiarity of their location.
“You know this place.” Athena stated rather than asked as the chariot vanished from beneath them when they reached the ground.
“Why yes! It’s my old school.” Poseidon whirled around taking in every sight and sound. “It looks just as it did when I was a boy! Look! There are some of my old schoolmates! Ares, Apollo! Over here!” he called out to some of his classmates.
Athena stooped down to face him with a cold, intelligent stare, “These are the shadows of the past; they cannot be changed. Now, follow me there is a reason I brought you here.”
Athena led Poseidon into a very familiar room. Everything was just as he remembered it: the desks had numerous carvings from the many boys that had spent countless hours sitting at them, the walls all had the scratches and dents in them from the occasional roughhousing that occurred too close, and the smell of chalk, books, and old paper filled the air of the classroom that Poseidon had spent many years of his youth in.
Athena pointed to a boy sitting at a desk near the front of the classroom. “Do you remember him?”
The boy was a young version of Poseidon, one with a few hopes and dreams still intact, but many of his hopes had already been dashed by a cruel world. “Yes, I do. I know him well.”
One of the school boys had run up to Poseidon looking cheerful and holding more of a youthful glow than that of the young Poseidon. “Poseidon, the coach is here to take us home aren’t you coming?”
The gloomy boy replied, “No, my father says that Christmas is for children and that I am not allowed to leave the school. He wants me to use the time to study.”
“Well, your father seems like an old pigeon-livered grump.” After a beat of silence the boy quickly added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that, only that I’m sorry for you, Poseidon. Have a Merry Christmas!”
“You have a Merry Christmas too.” Poseidon gave a slightly solemn reply.
Once the boy left and Poseidon watched the coach roll away, he sat back down and solemnly opened a book and tried his best to read its contents through teary eyes.
“You were often alone.” Athena stated bluntly.
“Yes, but it was better that way.” Poseidon said with a wobbly voice. “There was more time for studies, and it served as a time to . . . reflect.”
“But soon your Christmases would not be spent alone.” The room was encased in that otherworldly glow that had become more and more familiar to Poseidon. He saw his whole childhood pass by him. He saw when he secured his first apprenticeship and saw when the coach took him away from the prison of his childhood.
Suddenly, he found himself in a London street. One that he had always looked forward to walking down at one time in his life. Knowing where Athena was likely taking him, he began to walk the familiar route to his first place of employment.
Poseidon soon reached the building, Athena following him by a few paces. The building was just as he remembered it. The beautiful shutters were starting to peel a bit and would probably be given a fresh coat of paint in the spring. The sign labeling the building was a beautiful scarlet red that nicely matched, but also stood out from the dusty bricks. It was Zeus’s market, the place where Posiedon had learned almost all he needed to know about running a business.
“This was one of the first years you had worked here. Old Zeus was kind to you.” Athena stated, startling Poseidon out of his thoughts.
“Yes he was. He was the kindest man I ever knew.” Poseidon said, peering in through one of the windows but he couldn't quite see inside. He looked to Athena, confused as to what he was supposed to observe. Athena gave one of her short huffs and gestured for Posiedon to use the door. He sheepishly crept inside and almost began to tear up at the sight before him.
There was Poseidon as a young man sitting at a desk fussing over finances. A middle-aged man stood nearby. He had a slightly bemused look on his face.
“What troubles you at this merry time of year, Poseidon?” Zeus asked in his boisterous way.
“It’s the Christmas party that you throw every year, Sir. It causes so many expenses which don’t have a direct input into the accounts.” the younger video of Posiedon exasperated.
“Why of course not! If everything we did was for profit nothing good would be done! We aren’t going into debt for the party, and it provides a great deal of joy for our associates.” The young man attempted to give an argument but was quickly cut off. “Now, what are you still doing here on Christmas Eve! Go home, and I expect to see you tomorrow at my home for Christmas dinner.”
The young Posidon gave a quick nod and went to grab his coat. He was stopped by Zeus who handed him his payment for a week. The young man then left for the night. Poseidon did not follow him, but he knew that a few paces down the road he had found an extra coin in his pocket that was no doubt left by his kind employer.
“Zeus would be ashamed to see what you have fallen to, Poseidon.” Athena said in her blunt manner.
Instantly, Poseidon felt the need to defend himself. “You don’t know that! The world is cruel! One cannot afford to spare mercy in this world! Why, not showing mercy to others is showing mercy to ourselves!”
Athena shook her head at Poseidon’s antics. As Poseidon prepared another round of arguments, he found himself suddenly back in his bead, arguing with his comforter. He groaned and slid a hand down his face before checking the time. It was only five past one. Poseidon flopped down onto his mattress in an attempt to sleep before his next guest came at two.