Defying Fate

Chapter 2-p1-The Deception

The child, Astyanax, was sleeping soundly, no idea that his room had been occupied by a god.. and was still occupied by the man sent to kill him.

As Odysseus watched, the baby turned over and stuck his tiny fist into his mouth, and Odysseus spotted the first signs of a front tooth poking from his gums.

It was hard to believe that this infant could possibly be his downfall. He was cherubic, with chubby cheeks and a few wispy locks of blond hair, he hardly bore any resemblance to the man in Odysseus' vision, though he knew a man could change as he grew.

In his memory, he heard humming, one of Penelope's favorite lullabies, which always soothed Telemachus when he was having trouble sleeping. He hummed it himself, reaching down and lifting the boy from his cradle. Astyanax stirred only a little as Odysseus brought him to his chest, comparing him to the son he'd known.

'Personally, I don't think you're up to it,' Zeus had said.

Odysseus had done many things over the course of the war. He'd taken responsibility for the deaths of far more... heroic men, even if he hadn't always held the sword himself. He'd concocted plans that had resulted in far more pain than victories, and as they'd neared the end, he'd found himself retreating into memories more often to escape the guilt in his heart.

Penelope's face in his mind was fuzzy these days, the memories old and worn around the edges. He could hardly remember the exact shape of her mouth, and her chin was indistinct, but her eyes were as bright as they'd ever been, though now they looked at him in confusion and disappointment. What if, by the time he reached home, she did not recognize the man he'd become? What if she could no longer bear the sight of him, knowing the kind of monster he'd had to be?

Flinching away from the images in his mind, Odysseus turned to the task at hand. This child hadn't asked for this life. He hadn't chosen his father, and he was too young to know anything about the war that had ruined Odysseus' life.

He went to the window with the child in his arms and looked out across the landscape. Behind them, the city was aflame, and it cast bronze flashes of light across the battlefield, illuminating the ships in the distance.

What could he do?

Zeus may no longer be in the room, but he was almost certainly watching.

He felt in his mind for Athena's presence, maybe sought some advice, but, something was distracting the goddess, and she was silent and strangely distant, though he still felt their connection, like the faint pull of a thread.

It was up to him then, to form a plan.

Some rubble was stacked in a corner of the room, where something had done damage to the wall near the window. Odysseus mused that, had the catapult been just a little luckier, he wouldn't have needed to be here tonight at all.

Pushing away the morbid thought, he set Astyanax back in his bed and rummaged through the stones until he found one of roughly the right size. He swiftly unwrapped the child's blanket from around him, causing Astyanax to shiver, but he still did not wake. The blanket was made of fine cloth, and embroidered around the edges with the boy's name. If the blanket were discovered with no child inside... But he'd have to hope, after the battle, they wouldn't be looking that hard.

He wrapped the still-warm blanket around the stone and set that in the cradle as well.

He had to hide the child.

Tearing down one of the gauzy curtains from around the bassinet, he fashioned a quick sling, which he slid over his shoulder, under his cloak, and set the child into it. Covering the baby with the cloak and the cloth from the sling, he prayed that the gods were distracted by all the battles around him, and they wouldn't be looking at this moment.

He lifted the stone from Astyanax's bed, and looked at it regretfully, trying to convey that he held a baby in his arms, not a brick. He moved to the window and held out the stone and the blanket.

"Forgive me," he said, unsure of his audience. Zeus, for disobeying his orders? Astyanax, for the destruction of what he would one day inherit? Or, himself? For after everything he had done, he could not bring himself to commit this final atrocity, and whatever the consequences would be, they would fall on his own head.

He dropped the stone over the sill and watched it tumble down.. down... onto the battlefield below. One end of the blanket came unfurled and it trailed like a comet's tail behind the weight of the stone, bouncing down the cliff face until it came to a stop amid the rocks at the bottom.

He adjusted his cloak to hide the sling better and turned to leave, his mission 'completed,' when the door swung open once more.