Prompt Twenty-Three

Young Atlas

(Post-Series)

Reference is made to various myths. I'm aware there are always variants in lore and mythos, but I've gone with those most recognized.

"Take your time Young Atlas." Strickler waited, wings opening a little in a stretch. "There's no rush."

Jim squinted at the book. "'For the myths…inspired…by the battles of the troll warriors were great…the accounts of Voltar are particularly…detailed." He closed his eyes and covered his face with his mismatching hands. "I'm never going to be able to read trollish fluently."

"It will likely take some time Jim. But you're progressing well." Strickler glanced up at the cave ceiling and listened to the distant drip of underground water. He'd taught in some dilapidated places, but this damp, unfinished, barely-lit-by-crystal cave? It ranked up there with the worst. "It might help if you had a quiet, insulated place to study."

Jim's shoulders slumped and Strickler noted that his t-shirt was already fraying from wear and tear. He was constantly busy. "Strickler, please don't take this the wrong way because I really do appreciate you trying to help me, but I don't have time to properly sleep, let alone find a cozy niche to read in."

Strickler nodded. "Of course." He hesitated while Jim pulled out a few sheets of paper from the dirty rucksack at his side. It contained a few items that didn't fit in his pockets, and Strickler felt sure Jim had found it in a dumpster. He made a mental note to tell Barbara that Jim needed a proper pack. Strickler had donned a glamor mask and, utilizing all the resources left in the Janus Order's Arcadia center – to be fair, not much – had procured a flight to New Jersey. The travel points had been enough to cover it.

He didn't trust Merlin. He trusted Blinky but a troll could not be expected to know all the needs of a hybrid being. No one could really, but as a changeling, Strickler had the best shot of anyone other than Nomura and NotEnrique. Claire was a sensible, responsible girl but she was still a teenager. It was unfair to expect her to handle all the emotional baggage that came with such changes.

And none of this might have happened if Strickler had only been faster, stronger. Rescued Barbara and got her home just a little faster. Jim wouldn't have been left alone with Merlin, and-

There was nothing for it now. Strickler watched Jim scribble onto the pages, as if trying to familiarize himself with the characters of the trollish alphabet. He looked uncomfortable sitting by the flat rock he was using as a table, as if his limbs were all too long for him to write comfortably. "Young Atlas, I have a few books that should help you pick up trollish more easily. I'll have them sent to you. I also brought those academic pamphlets you requested." He pulled a few out of his pant pocket. Adjusting his clothes for his troll form had been difficult, but his frame hadn't changed too terribly much. It hadn't required much tailoring. And it was better than running around in a loincloth all over town.

Jim accepted them, looking at the requirements. "I might be able to get a diploma, right?"

"Of course Young Atlas. Many people have obtained one even with disturbances to their education," Strickler said. Jim kept writing but he slowed.

"What's that name mean anyway?" Strickler cocked his head. "You said 'Atlas too held the world on his shoulders' or something. Who is Atlas supposed to be?"

"Oh dear. I really neglected your mythology education, didn't I?" Strickler stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Atlas was a titan, a powerful being in Greek mythology. The people of that time believed that Atlas held up the world as they knew it, not knowing as much about astronomy and gravity as we do now. An ingenious theory to be sure."

Jim grunted noncommittally. "He held up the Earth, huh? Sounds like a big job for one person."

It did. It really did. "Atlas did not only hold the world of men," Strickler said. "He held what was known as the celestial spheres. In those days, it was believed that the stars and the heavenly bodies were layered spheres roving around the Earth in a ring. Upon Earth all things rode and Atlas bore all."

Jim sighed. "Why? Because he was the only one who could do it? Destiny or something?" His tone had become flat and tired, and Strickler had to wonder how much "destiny" had come out of the mouth of those around him, well-meaning or otherwise. Strickler knew from experience the word only placated for so long.

Strickler considered his answer before deciding on truth. "Actually…he was sentenced to it as punishment. He and the other Titans fought against the beings that would become the gods of the Greeks, and when they were defeated the others were consigned to Tartarus. He, however, was assigned the role of bearing up the celestial spheres."

Jim looked at him, and Strickler instantly regretted speaking. He seemed really interested, but it wasn't a warm, intrigued interest. It was more like disbelief. "He was punished? That's why he held up everything? He…he didn't have a choice?"

"There are multiple accounts," Strickler said at last. "But most historians recount the tale as a punishment. Not a duty he elected to take." Jim lowered his eyes to the stone he'd been using to provide backing for his paper.

"Did he ever get a break?"

"Well, there are two stories he's best known for. One deals with Perseus and the other with Heracles – Hercules to the Romans." Strickler sat down in front of him. "Heracles was tasked with gathering golden apples from the Hesperides, Atlas' daughters. Obviously Atlas himself would be ideal for fetching them, so he requested the titan's assistance. He held up the spheres while Atlas went to obtain the apples, and Atlas returned, intending to take his freedom for good. Heracles asked him to take the burden back a moment so he could make himself a support. When Atlas agreed, Heracles took the apples and left Atlas to…his…"

Jim's expression was even sadder if that was possible. "So he had a chance at freedom, but because he did something kind, he got trapped again?" Strickler stared at him. That was true. Well, as true as any myth was. Jim put down his pencil, clumsy hands resting against the rock. "And the story of Perseus?"

"That one took place before the tale of Heracles." Strickler glanced at the cave walls and checked his phone. "You know, perhaps we've taken enough time."

"Strickler. What happened in that story?" Jim's eyes were tired and Strickler hated himself.

"In that one, he had heard a prophecy that a son of Zeus would take the golden apples and set himself against the person – ironic, considering it Heracles in that other story that actually did it. Perseus, being one of Zeus's many offspring, seemed to fit the bill. Perseus is known for slaying the Medusa, and with her head he turned Atlas-"

He stopped, realizing what he was about to say. Jim looked away. "I know about the Medusa. So Atlas got turned into stone."

Strickler had felt heartbreak. Barbara turning away from him in disgust after her injury had been unbearable. But there was something defeated in Jim's motions that took all the fight out of him. "Yes. That's how the story goes. This didn't last obviously, as Heracles came later."

Jim stood up. "Strickler, I…I think I am pretty well finished for the day. Thanks for working with me on this." He was taller than Strickler now, hair wild and thick like an animal's, coarse, and-

Strickler hugged Jim with his arms and wings. If Jim was surprised, he was too low to care about reacting. "I did not give you the name 'Young Atlas' because I thought this…any of it…would happen. I called you that because you bore up under heavy weight and endured. Atlas was known for his strength. That was all I ever meant from it Jim."

"I know. I guess it just drives it home. How much what I was supposed to do was laid out for me." Jim leaned against Strickler, returning the hug lethargically. "Or maybe it's all just coincidence. Or a cosmic joke. I don't know. I don't really want to think about it."

"Of course." Strickler released him. "I'll assist you with the project again later. When you feel up to it."

"Thanks." Jim left the room, and Strickler picked up the papers and pencil he'd been using. His writing was clumsy, disjointed, worse than before. He hadn't quite gotten used to his mismatching hands. Strickler stacked the pages neatly and took them with him as he left the tiny chamber.

Changelings didn't accept the status quo. They survived it. Strickler's fingers clenched around the stack of paper. He found the tiny opening he was calling home while in what would become the new Trollmarket, barely more than a closet-sized cave, and put his things down. After a minute of thinking, he opened his case, tucked into the corner, and pulled out a laptop. He stored many books on it, and not just human ones. Technology was too convenient not to utilize and he needed particular old books for reference now.

All things had once been impossible. Men flying, traveling across the planet in hours, going to the moon, none of it would have been believed when Merlin was fighting Morganna. Impossible to return a person to their true form? Strickler snorted. Maybe for the lazy, for those unwilling to pore over books for hours, days, even months if it required to find a new way. Magic was mad and wild, but it too operated by laws. It had rules.

Strickler began to read, making notes as he went. It didn't matter how long it took, he would find a way to open a new door, a new path. Jim deserved someone to go to bat for him against the "impossible," at least enough that he could make his own choices again instead of being cut off from so many. Why not a Changeling, a being whose existence was an abomination against both worlds? Why not a creature that had once been believed impossible but stood now, defiant against it all?

Atlas would be freed from his tyrannical burden. Strickler swore it.

End of Prompt Twenty-Three