DINNER had always been an interesting affair of contemplation and existence. Much like her gardening was meant to provide a stable life of monotony and her weaving the vessel of passion, the act of cooking and eating helped to provide an outlet of contemplation and introspection that was so greatly needed in this solitary life Calypso was forced to live. Those nights spent upon the western beach with her glass of wine and a bowl of dates notwithstanding; they were a matter of freedom, far removed from any thoughts of life or abandonment, freedom or imprisonment.

It took her having company, however, for Calypso to finally understand the beauty in dinner beyond the ritual of cooking and the flavor that one is rewarded with. No, meals instead became moments of thought and realization and, when a hero was present, a time of forced socialization and peace from whatever squabbles may have been had between them throughout the day.

This learned facet of dinner had been exceptionally helpful with Odysseus, especially as their children came into their world. Odysseus was considerably troubled during his stay, but he always maintained an air of composure and forgiveness upon sitting at that great oak dining table. Nausinous brought a sense of joy and enthusiasm that not even Percy could compete with, and hastily made his presence known from the moment he could walk upon two legs. He was the first to leave Calypso's side at the table in favor for his doting father, much to Odysseus' chagrin and Nausithous' displeasure.

Francis Drake had brought with him great changes to the dining experience that was once had with Odysseus and their twins. He had laughed loudly at the "pitiful nature of Ogygian cuisine" that she had refined in the centuries since Odysseus and set to work bringing her island to his English standards.

"Drink up, my dear!"

"Drake, what in the name of Gaia are you making me consume?"

"Ale!" Drake laughed heartily, taking a large sip from his dark wooden mug. His eyes widened as the liquid hit his tongue. He belched and gave her a beaming smile. "Strong too, excellent. Praise unto you, Lady Hera!"

She shuddered. English standards, beverage-wise at the least, were not to be for Calypso. But Drake did provide for her many new recipes, flavors, spices, and sweets. Gingerbread for example had been the taste of nectar, for a time, after her servants had brought it upon a tray full of countless other delectable sweets for the pair.

Calypso sighed, looking across the great oak table at a raving Percy, headlong into another of his many tales of the outside world. A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she was allowed such an honest view of his figure and personality. He was truly the most beautiful on these nights, for Percy would be left with nothing to distract him bar Calypso's own divine beauty or the scent of his meal in front of him. There was no cloud gazing to be done, no flowers to observe her planting, and no animals to commune with.

Instead, Calypso was allowed insight into the way Percy naturally was, when he had no fatal injury to heal from, no overbearing quest to lie awake in fear of. She was able to notice the way Percy's hair would fall, the way his fingers would comb back the strands that fell in front of his eyes. How his cheeks had dimples when he smiled, and his head would always slightly tilt to one side when in a deep and true one. When he would mention his mother, his eyes would gleam. She seemed an amazing woman and had raised Percy well. When he would mention his friends, he would laugh and go into long-winded tangents about their various excursions and adventures.

"Anyway, Annabeth was getting…"

It was not as though Calypso was averse to hearing the tales of Percy's friends, far from it, but they reminded her of his outside life. His Grover seemed nice enough, Calypso rarely had any issues with the sons of Pan, but his Annabeth was a sore topic of Percy's discussions. The feeling of having such intimate competition for her desired one was something wholly new. While Odysseus was hesitant and Drake had no such issue, both had been acutely aware of both Calypso's attraction as well as their new and growing attraction to her beyond their beloved awaiting their return from the wine-dark sea. Percy's seeming unawareness of his attraction towards both her and someone else was maddening.

"…fighting, but then Chiron…"

Percy was shifting in and out of tongues, a trait that was consistent with his livelier conversations. Calypso reached for her drink to cover up the beginnings of a smile. Tonight, her servants had brought out her clay cups, ornately decorated with figures in battle, reserved only for nights wherein she would be drinking a warm beverage. Mulled wine, cider in this case, was the only beverage that Calypso found palatable from Drake's so-called 'English standards' of food. It somehow transcended the flavor of even the greatest Dionysian wine.

"…and so then Grover, right? He kicked the apple to me, and I, of course, am able to keep it in play. Which is a feat in and of itself may I add; the weight is all off if you use one." Percy set his cup down with a bit too much force, causing some cider to slosh onto the oak beneath, and paused for a moment to slurp down more of his beef stew.

"But yeah, obviously I'm able to keep this in play and, after showing off to Grover again, I go to pass it back." Calypso notices how his eyes are gleaming as he reminisces on this memory, as the corners of his lips had begun to lift up. "Looking back, I probably did pass it a bit too hard to him, because it went so much higher than I wanted. I wish you could have seen the look on his face as it came flying towards his face! He was like—" His mouth opened and his eyes widened, hands flared out to the sides, before giving Calypso a mock screech of terror that his friend emitted. Calypso could feel herself beginning to laugh and fought to contain it.

"And so this apple is coming straight towards him and he's scared for his life, right? And what does he do?"

"I do not know, my hero. What does your Grover do?"

"He…" Percy breaks out in a small laugh, and the wall of protection Calypso had set aside to maintain her facade began to break even faster. "He does probably the most 'Grover' thing ever and just keeps his mouth open, catches it in his mouth, and takes a huge bite out of the thing!" Percy slammed a fist onto her oak table, shaking the cups and bowls, and his short and small tremors of laughter then quickly became loud and roaring. And down came Calypso's barrier, joining him in the peals of laughter that filled the sound of silence in the night.

She lost herself in the moment and once more showed Percy vulnerability, only realizing when their eyes had met, and Percy looked at her with such reverence and happiness at Calypso's joy. Silently cursing herself, Calypso ripped her gaze from her hero and instead focused on her own bowl of steaming beef stew.

"There it is again," Percy said. His voice was soft with concern.

"What?" She feigned.

"You keep… pulling away, like you're trying not to enjoy yourself." A hint of accusation.

Calypso sharply breathed in, choking back a pitiful sound, and locked her eyes on her cup of cider. Cursed servants should have made the brew stronger for this night.

"As I told you, Percy," she began in a slow, flat voice. "I have been punished. Cursed, you might say." Her stomach was in knots. She allowed herself a dry chuckle.

"How? Tell me. I want to help."

He did not know about her, of course. "Do not say that. Please do not say that."

Yet Percy's bleeding heart would not listen. He looked at her, forcing her gaze from her cider, face wrought with concern. "Tell me what the punishment is."

She could feel tears forming in her eyes. Calypso wiped the saltwater out of them, and she placed a white linen cloth atop her bowl of stew, her appetite now completely gone. A servant immediately took it away. She grasped her mug and gulped down the remainder of her cider: 'liquid courage', Drake had called it. Calypso would need it for this tale.

Percy continued to look up at her with concerned eyes, and Calypso sighed, accepting that she had lost this battle. "Percy, this island, Ogygia, is my home, my birthplace. But it is also my prison. I am under… house arrest, I guess you would call it." She hoped her usage of English was correct.

Percy's eyebrows were now knit together, with pursed lips and an inquisitive look on his face. "I will never visit this Manhattan of yours. Or anywhere else. I am alone here."

"Because your father was Atlas," he stated. Because she loved her father and family.

Calypso nodded. "The gods do not trust their enemies. And rightly so. I should not complain. Some of the prisons are not nearly as nice as mine." Calypso hoped that would satisfy him, hoping that this discussion would be over and they could begin with some other thing.

Percy was exasperated at her answer. "But that's not fair," he complained. "Just because you're related doesn't mean you support him." Calypso snorted, but Percy kept speaking without notice. "This other daughter I knew, Zoë Nightshade — she fought against him. She wasn't imprisoned."

Of course Percy would go that route: he now lives in the age of the gods, fighting for them and their goals. She sighed and gently began with a breathless and tired voice. "But, Percy, I did support him in the first war. He is my father."

Percy stood up at this declaration, outrage evident in his voice. "What? But the Titans are evil!"

Calypso chuckled at his naïveté. "Are they? All of them? All the time?" She would admit to Kronos' brutality, but he was strong and wise. Rhea was a kind and fair queen. Her father was strict but just. "Tell me, Percy. I have no wish to argue with you. But do you support the gods because they are good, or because they are your family?"

Percy didn't answer. Calypso knew she hit a sore subject. His left hand was gripping the edge of the table whilst his right was slowly drifting towards his cup of cider. His lips were tight, with unfocused eyes as he fought with Calypso's question. They both knew his answer.

"Perhaps I was wrong in the war. And in fairness, the gods have treated me well," she admitted. She had seen what they had done to her father, forever burdened to carry the weight of Ouranos. Seen her grandfather, Iapetus, bound in chains and cast forever into Tartarus. Heard of poor Prometheus' torture for helping the mortals survive the darkness.

She let the silence grow for a moment longer before continuing. "They visit me from time to time. They bring me word of the outside world." Calypso's voice got quieter as she explained her curse to her hero. Her eyes were slick and her throat felt constricted. She clenched her hands into fists and choked out the reality of her situation to Percy. "But they can leave. And I cannot."

They always leave. Calypso could feel tears beginning again, could taste the remnants of salt along her lips from before. She blinked them back for now.

His eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock. Percy wet his lips and swallowed. He blinked. Twice. "You don't have any friends?" Percy was grasping at anything. He could not understand the concept of millennia in solitude, no mind could. She barely could. "I mean… wouldn't anyone else live here with you? It's a nice place."

Of course he would be the one to speak of staying first. Calypso almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Standing here on the beach wherein she would now be drinking a glass of wine with her bowl of dates, feeling free and content from it all, now being the place where her next hero might realize he can stay. Percy has to be the one to choose to stay, Calypso cannot offer such a choice.

But what if he never realized he could stay?

What if the choice lay unthought and unspoken forever, and a life of pain, sorrow, and worry remains for the pair as each refuse to acknowledge the truth? What if she spoke the question now, and Percy answered with a resounding yes?

What if she could prove the very claim that Hermes declared false?

A tear fell down her cheek as she prepared to betray her one and only vow. "I… I promised myself I would not speak of this. But—"

For the third time in her immortal life, a rumble echoed through the air of Ogygia. Percy's form went rigid, back straight and shoulders set near instantly. His eyes narrowed intensely, moving from confused, concerned, and caring to those of a soldier assessing the situation. His right hand moved to the pocket of his trousers. Percy's breathing became rapidly more intense as he focused on the wine-dark sea.

Calypso sucked in a breath, and slowly exhaled through barely open lips. She wiped away the tears from her gold-stained eyes. A servant handed her another chalice, this time containing wine. She plucked it from the air and quickly downed the burning liquid before handing it back. It was painfully obvious what was going to happen now.

"Even so, send him forth now, or beware the wrath of Zeus," rang the words of Argeiphontes.

A burning glow appeared on the horizon, as if Apollo himself had risen on the wrong side. Percy stepped forward to the shore, right hand now holding a small and thin cylindrical object. His feet were set in a battle stance, and Calypso was reminded of why Percy could never stay. He was a hero, after all.

"Cruel are you, you gods," whispered Calypso, "and so quick to envy."

The glow revealed itself to be a burning column of fire as it approached Ogygia. The fiery hues emanating from it and the surface of the wine-dark sea bathed her western shore in the colors of dawn.

And now Percy held a familiar looking, shining bronze xiphos in his hand, eyes locked on the blinding column. He tersely asked, "what is that?"

Calypso sighed. "A visitor."

Percy's head whipped to Calypso and looked at her in confusion before she beckoned for him to come next to her. Once he was next to her, she set her back straight and put on a tight and neutral face.

"Stay here, my hero, and do not move until ordered to." Calypso softly said.

Percy moved to question her before she hushed him. She then slowly walked towards the lapping freshwater waves before falling into a deep bow. The flames engulfed her being with light as her visitor landed next to her. The smell of coal and soot filled the air.

"Lord Hephaestus, this is a rare honor."

I wrote this obscenely quickly, not too happy with it, but hey we're advancing the plot!