Poseidon’s Story

The first time a woman was thrown into his kingdom, he was confused. His brother was always chasing after them, wanting more of them, and getting them pregnant. So he assumed it had been an accident. He sent her back, placing her on her ship. And they threw her back in. So he put her back again. And they tied her up, and threw her back. So he untied her, and put her on the shores her ship had left from, and it was quiet for a few months, until all of the sudden, she was thrown in again, from a different ship. And he put her back again. This whole time, he had remained hidden, using his power over the seas to move the woman to the ships and shore. But they threw her back like a too-small fish, over and over again. So, he found her, and rose to the surface with her, bringing her to an island to talk. “Who are you?” He asked, wondering what this young lady had done to be thrown to the sea so many times.

“Amphitrite,” she said simply. “I’m from Greece. I’m trying to get away from there, but the sea doesn’t even want me. They don’t want me on the ships, because I’m a girl,” she muttered bitterly.

Looking at her curiously, Poseidon knitted his brows together. “But women are a treasure, and you are exceptionally lovely. Why do they not want you on the ship?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Women on ships are bad luck,” she explained, looking at the man, realizing he is tall, strong, rather like a sailor in build...and he’s completely naked.

“No, they’re not. Not unless my brother has taken fancy to her, and even then, the ship is protected until it makes landfall.” He said this with such confidence, the young woman had no choice but to believe him. She nods a bit.

“Who are you?”

“Poseidon. Do you wish to go home?” He asked kindly, smiling sadly when she shook her head.

“No, thank you. They’ll just throw me back again.” Amphitrite seemed bitter, resigned to being drowned whenever she got on a ship but terrified to stay in Greece the rest of her life.

“Would you like to come with me?” Poseidon made this offer, clearly hoping for a yes, but perfectly okay with a no.

“Where to?”

“The bottom of the sea.” He said it without a hint of mirth, clearly serious, and Amphitrite nodded. Taking his hand, they walked into the sea, growing gills and  tails once they were deep enough to swim. And they went to a palace below the sea, and were content...until the next time a young lady was thrown overboard. This one was tied so she could not swim, and had a sandbag around her waist, and Amphitrite freed her, begging Poseidon to save her.

So he did.

And every time a woman was thrown, Amphitrite begged him to save her, until finally, she didn’t have to. As soon as a woman started to sink below the waves, tied in a way that meant she should be incapable of escape, he saved her. And she was given a tail, and gills, and a place to live in their palace below the waves...

Until one day, a child was thrown. She couldn’t be more than 10, he thought, and it had been centuries since Amphitrite was thrown. They saved her, as they had saved so many before her, though she was the youngest who had been thrown so far. They usually weren’t thrown until they had started their cycle, for that, more than anything else, was what got them discovered. But this small one had much anger, and a ferocity that Poseidon admired, and a request he hadn’t expected. His merpeople, the children he and Amphitrite kept safe, aged until they were in their full beauty, grown women capable of capturing hearts with naught but their song. And this one wished to stay small, young and innocent, a request he had not heard before.

But he granted her request, giving her what she desired, and she protected the young who were thrown after her with a viciousness even Poseidon’s brother’s hellhounds could admire. She was as merciless as the Furies, as powerful as a god, and Lyra was her name. Musical and sweet. It belied her attitudes towards men.

And there was peace in his kingdom for another fifteen years, all thrown women staying safe and happy below the waves, welcoming new sisters with open arms, avenging their attempted murders and collecting lovely items from below the waves.

And then. Yes, and then. Another young person was thrown, in all appearances a young woman, though there was something different about this soul, when Poseidon touched it. It was the soul of a man, the soul of a sailor and a warrior, the soul of one long hidden from the world behind a form that did not match the heart. Poseidon took pity on the young man, and gave him a form to match the soul, one that would help him live beneath the waves in happiness, and help him to feel at home with who he was. The first merman. His first son. His name was El, and, as was the nature of things, his odd children found each other, and found comfort in each other’s company. Lyra taught El the ways of the sea, and El provided Lyra the companionship she desired more than anything, that of an elder brother. And once again, peace reigned below the waves.