"I hate my father," Calypso said, matter-of-factly.

Leif, from where he was stretching out his injured-but-almost-healed shoulder, paused and glanced at her. "You do?"

She'd said it out of nowhere, but it had needed to be said. Leif had one of those faces; he was the kind of man that made you want to crawl in his arms and spill every secret in your heart. If she didn't tell it to him, she would never tell it to anyone, and then Calypso would go down in history as the girl who blindly loved her father and followed hm into ruin.

"You don't sound surprised," Calypso told Leif. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing at the observation. "Do you hate your father?"

Leif tilted his head to the side, pondering. "No," he said at last. "I've been angry at him, certainly, many times. But I don't hate him."

Calypso knew nothing about Leif Erikson. She had no idea of his parentage, who his father might be; no idea his quest, his life story, the girl – for she knew there was a girl, but wouldn't mention it if he didn't - everything about him was a mystery, so Calypso didn't know how to gauge his response.

After a short pause, Leif continued. "There's a kind of loyalty, I guess, to your father," he said. "At least – for a son there is. I don't know about daughters, though. Perhaps you feel more loyal to your mother-"

"No," Calypso interrupted sharply. Leif studied her; she could feel his gaze on her, but kept her eyes down.

Presently, Leif sat down on the sand. It was his fifth sunset on the island, and the light cast his face in a red glow. His hair was blond, but with threads of coppery red brushed through the strands. Freckles covered a face so white, his cheeks burned scarlet from the flush of blood.

Hesitatingly, Calypso sat down next to him. "It was loyalty to my father that got me trapped here," she explained softly.

"Who is your father?" Leif's voice was quiet, understanding. Without really meaning to, Calypso slipped her hand into his. It was large, and warm.

"Atlas," she said miserably. She didn't say anything else - he was a hero. He knew who Atlas was.

Leif was silent for several long moments. When he spoke, it was soft. "Do you know who my people are?"

Calypso glanced sideways at him. Her eyes ran over the strangeness of his clothing – animal furs, heavy linens – and she shook her head. "No."

"We're Vikings," he said. "We're from the north. We have our own set of rules..." his eyes met hers. "And our own set of gods."

Her eyes widened. She knew of the slight differences between the gods Greek and Roman personas, but...another set of gods entirely? Then he wasn't a demigod? Or a child of an Olympian? Had the island's magic grown strong enough to draw in, simply, a hero?

And another thought passed over her –Leif didn't know who her father was.

"In our land, we travel. We get on boats to find new places, and when we get there, we burn." His eyes hardened, red against the sunset. "We set fires, we steal, we take the women..." he trailed off. "It repulses you, I know. But it's our way of life."

Calypso made to answer, but Leif kept talking. "And my father, he – he's notorious. Known for his red hair, his red beard, his exile, the blood dripping down the side of his sword. They call him Erik the Red."

Leif's hand was clutching tightly to hers. Calypso looked down, and squeezed back.

"And I – me, I just want to travel. To explore, to discover. I should hate my father, but – but I don't. Calypso. I love him."

A sigh escaped Calypso's lips. "Because you always remember the good things – the warm embraces, the temple kisses, the wild stories told sitting on his knee-"

"A wink, an inside joke, a whisper that you are the best thing." Leif closed his eyes. "You know," he almost groaned with relief. "You know."

And Calypso did know. She understood.

Leif and Calypso pressed their foreheads together, lost in silent understanding for a moment. Then their lips pressed together, and Calypso didn't know when it had happened, but then she was back down in the sand and Leif was kissing her so hard she felt it in her bones.

Out on the water, something splashed against wood. Calypso sobbed into the kiss. Leif broke away, eyes cloudy. "I can't," he whispered, ragged. "I can't, I...Thorgunna..."

With shaking hands, Calypso pushed gently on his shoulders. Leif sat back, breathing heavily. "Thorgunna," he said again. "I...she..."

"You don't have to say." Calypso fought back her sobs. "I know. I know."

"I need to leave," Leif said. "I am...I was on a journey before I came here. I can't abandon it. I have to get back."

"I know." Calypso bit her lip. She strained to get the words out. "There's a raft waiting. It will take you where you need to go."

Leif touched her face. She didn't meet his eyes, but he pressed his hands against the side of her head. Slowly, she raised her gaze to him. The sun had set completely. Without its glow, Leif's eyes had returned to their normal blue.

"Forgive your father," he said softly. "For whatever he did. I don't know what it was, but I know you love him. Don't pretend to hate him. It will only make it hurt more."

Calypso was crying openly now, tears spilling over onto Leif's hands. He kissed her forehead, and got up to leave. Unconsciously, Calypso's hand reached out to grab his wrist.

She missed.

And when Leif sailed away and she cried, it wasn't just for him. It was for her father, whom she loved, whom she hated, whose actions she was punished for, whose memory she still held cherished in her chest, whom she would never see again.

"I forgive you, Father," she murmured, and something in the island lightened.

its so late and i'm so tired i can't even type straight hellp

pls forgive errors i'm so tired

Erik the Red probably wasn't even all that bad, tbh if there's one area of history i'm super cloudy on its the Vikings (so fingers crossed Uncle Rick's new series on Norse gods sheds some light on things for me)

the only backstory i know about Leif Erikson is he discovered Canada except the idiot discovered newfoundland like why would you even want to its almost as bad as quebec. and he named it Vinland. why don't we have a province named Vinland? HARPERRRR