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Hermes pats his pockets, reaches for his staff that isn’t there and then pats his pockets again. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. George and Martha are gone, stolen by Cacus. His fingers twitch, and everything seems too… quiet without George and Martha’s constant bantering and hissing in his ears. They’ve been together for eons, eons and this is the longest time Hermes has been separated from them.
Part of his wonders if he developed an unhealthy codependency on his snakes. Most of him doesn’t care. He’s too worried, too stressed. Cacus has his snakes. Hermes knows Cacus, knows how he breathes fire and knows how… ungentle and indelicate he can be with his merchandise.
Hermes doesn’t want George and Martha to get hurt. No, they’re good snakes - the best snakes - and they deserve better. They deserve all the rats in the world. Hermes vows to feed them to their heart's content when they’re safely back at his side. Of course if the worst happens, George and Martha would simply reform in a couple of decades, centuries if he’s unlucky. They wouldn’t die permanently; Hermes made sure of that when he attached them to his staff and made them immortal. But still, Hermes doesn’t want to wait centuries for his snakes to return. He wants them back yesterday.
He goes to Percy Jackson for help. His hands twitch in annoyance at the sight of Athena’s girl - Annabeth Chase. He’s still angry at the fact that his son, Luke, had gone to her under the flag of truce and asked for help, a way out and she denied him. She, his oldest friend (aside from Zeus’s girl Thalia) had looked him in the eye and said no when he begged her to help him get away from Kronos. Hermes knows the wish is futile; Luke’s destiny was already written by the fates by then but Hermes still wishes.
He gets annoyed with Annabeth Chase, and she gets annoyed straight back - how dare she? - and Percy Jackson tells her to go back to their picnic. Hermes resists the urge to scoff triumphantly. He may be the god of tricksters but he’s not that petty. Plus, he needs Percy Jackson’s help and being rude to his girlfriend probably isn’t going to help his case. Percy turns to him to ask if they can step into his office and then grabs his arm -
Instinctively Hermes fingers twitch, milliseconds away from smiting Percy Jackson when he stops, and remembers.
…
Millenia ago, when the earth’s nations were still ruled by kings and queens who still feared and revered the greek gods, Hermes frequently walked among them. He visited nearly everyone who called upon him, from the lost traveler to the richest and most powerful of kings.
More often than not, the mortals who called on him didn’t have the best of intentions. Some wanted his skill and help to steal. Others wanted his silver tongue to lie and deceive. Hermes wasn’t overly judgmental. He helped the sons who stole food and medicine for his sick family, and the mother and daughter who lied and deceived in order to get close to the tyrants that murdered their family for bloody revenge, and the kings who used trickery instead of strength to win their wars.
And then, there were those who purposefully called upon Hermes to deceive him. Out of all the Olympians, Hermes walked among the humans by far the most. He understood humans best out of all his brethren, and was the most approachable.
Some thought that this was a weakness, that this made it possible for a mere mortal to deceive and trick him, the god of lies and trickery himself.
Yeah, no. Hermes had no tolerance for mortals who thought they were better than him, in his own domain.
A king layered with gold inside a golden bath, filled with warm water, decorated with spices and petals, surrounded by servants and an ego even bigger than his kingdom summoned him, a glint in his eye. The second he opened his mouth and the words flowed spinning lies about needing more power to keep his kingdom safe and preposterous. Hermes knew it was all lies, lies, lies. Then, the king reached out and grasped his arm, as if they were equals, old-time buddies that could just casually touch each other.
Not even the gods on Olympus made that assumption about each other.
There was a very, very short list of beings that Hermes was so casual, so familiar, so trusting with. His mother, Maia was number one. His brother Apollo, another. His snakes, George and Martha. The mortal women he fell for, however short-lived. The few sons who he managed to visit and build a relationship with around Zeus’s order of no intervention. The odd hero or mortal that proved themselves and dedicated their lives to him.
This king was not one of them. Hermes smites him the second after his hand touches Hermes’s arm. His army led by his ignorant sons declares war on the Olympian god in revenge, and Hermes smites them too. Athena chids him for acting irrationally, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t regret anything. There are few things in this world that Hermes cannot - will not - tolerate, and this is one of them.
Outside his godly brethren, few recognized this. Kings, queens, lord and ladies invited him into their palaces offering feasts and banquets in his name, only to pour poisoned drink in his cup with a deceiving hand on his, or a bronzed sword against his side with a misleading palm on his back. They saw him as weaker, more naïve than the other gods, and plotted to steal his powers, his riches and his place on Olympus. Hermes smited them all.
And after one too many betrayals, Hermes realized that he was naïve. It was naïve of him to continue descending into the mortal realm, and deluding the mortals into thinking that he was approachable, or anywhere close to their playing field. He wasn’t a mortal, and as much as he liked seeing the few decent ones and delighting in their mortal pleasures and pastimes, too many were corrupt with ulterior motives.
Hermes withdrew from humanity.
Well, not entirely. His domain was still strongly rooted in mortal actions, he didn’t completely abandon them. He simply stopped responding to house calls, and appeared disguised when he absolutely had to attend to business on the mortal plane.
Eons passed, and Hermes forgot why he had even indulged the mortals. He forgets their sweet thanks of gratitude and genuine smiles. He forgets how uncomplicated their friendships are, unburned by millennia of complications, fights and baggage. He forgets the beauty in their bravery, the strength of their beliefs and the stubbornness of their determination to do good, to make things right.
…
When Percy Jacked turns to him, asks if they can step into his office and then grabs his arm -
Millenia of bad memories of deceitful mortals trying to poison, hurt and trick him instantly rush back to him and instinctively Hermes fingers twitch, milliseconds away from smiting Percy Jackson.
But Percy Jackson isn’t like those mortals. Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus isn’t distracting him with pretty words or impressive feasts and banquets. He isn’t pointing one way, and discreetly bringing a bronzed dagger to Hermes’ back.
No, the action is innocent.
Hermes stops and remembers.
Percy Jackson is everything he admires about humanity. He’s genuine, in his sarcasm, not holding his true feelings and thoughts back. He fights with bravery against forces he cannot even truly understand at sixteen, only knowing vaguely of what is good and wrong. There was a stubbornness about him; a refusal to bend under the gods to settle for second but to strive for the best outcome where he and his loved ones were victorious and alive.
His views of the gods, of Hermes is uncomplicated, unburdened by millennia of trusting only to be let down. His beliefs - however naïve in Hermes opinion - are held with unfailing strength that surprised and moved even the gods. What had Percy said at the end of the second Titan War?
“After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?” Hermes had laughed.
Percy had stared at him, a strength and conviction only seen by the strongest of heroes and the best of mortals.
“Yeah, I do.”
So when Percy Jackson turns to him, asks if they can step into his office and then grabs his arm - Hermes does nothing. He lets the demi-god take him, pull him into his van, sit them down on top of his deliveries, and ask for the story.
He does nothing, because somehow, after millennia of distrust, his young demi-god has managed to remind Hermes of his love and admiration for humanity, with a few words and a single, casual touch.
Hermes may have gone above and beyond in fulfilling Percy’s trade for a beautiful date in Paris, but what Percy Jackson did for him in return was infinitely more valuable, and would stay with him for millennia to come.
The End.