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Mother’s hand was holding onto him firmly. Probably to stop Hermes from running down the hall and around the finely carved pillars decorating the sides of the palace. Despite the fact that if he were a mortal he would not even be walking yet, he already got himself into trouble recently. Still, he tugged on mom’s hand, trying to get her to loosen her grip. ”Please, can we go this way? Just look at all the jewels that lady’s wearing! I bet she wouldn’t even notice if I took one!”
“I bet she will. And it’s better not to take chances here, Hermes.” Mother had been nervous ever since they arrived, which was strange since the cave the both of them called home, was not nearly as comfortable as the couches with embroidered pillows or the servants passing around food on trays, and something his mother wouldn’t let him taste in tall glasses.
“But why?” His own voice sounded nagging to him.
“Because, we have supposedly been invited by the courtesy of the king and queen, and I don’t think the queen was too pleased about that.”
The queen?
That must be the stern looking lady dressed in an elegant mix of blue and green mimicking a peacock’s colour palate. She was on the other side of the expansive ballroom on a raised platform with two large chairs, presumably for her and her husband. Since she was so far away, would it be paranoid of him to mention how she has not taken her eyes of him once? Would it be paranoid to say he could feel her gaze trying to burn holes in him?
Probably.
Which is why he ignored it. Just like his mother was evidently trying to do. Given all her cautious glances around the room.
Maia herself was adorning a simple pale blue peplos, the same colour as his chiton.
She just needed to relax. Being so tense wasn’t good for her. They were at a party, and all she wanted to do was stand very still, keeping an eye on everyone! How boring! Hermes had only been on Olympus once before, which while not being amazing circumstances (given Apollo dragging him there to stand trial for stealing his prized cows) had left him very curious about the rest of it. His feet itched to fly down the hall and up and down every spiraling staircase he came across. He wanted to see the famed gardens Demeter tended to, he wanted to find every shiny valuable thing hidden in the armories. It was too tempting of a thought.
“I’m sure it’s nothing mom, maybe she just wants to say hello?” He prompted, hoping to get her too slack her hand around his wrist.
“I doubt that.” He winced as it tightened.
“I’m hungry. I’ll go get us something to eat. The bread smells delicious!” It wasn’t a lie. Not completely. The bread did smell very good and very fresh. And his stomach did grumble when he caught sight of it. Maybe he could just take a small piece- No! He has to focus.
“Nice try sweetheart, I will go with you. You made enough trouble last time you spent a few hours on your own.” She smiled at him and followed still gripping his hand.
He had a mission to accomplish. Servants were rushing around the table so fast it wouldn’t be too unbelievable if one accidently bumped into them, and his mother had to use her hands to catch herself. He pulled them in the direction of the long tables displaying all sorts of goods on decorated plates and platters.
As they neared the feast, the most beautiful sounds he’d heard in his admittedly short life filled the air. Voices, as intoxicating as the drinks passed around to all but him and a select few others. He tried to count the intertwining voices, weaving melodies and harmonies effortlessly. ‘Nine?’ He thought. ‘Ten.’
Mom heard them too. She turned in the direction of the singing, now accompanied by some instruments, ”The muses.” She muttered, her eyes widening slightly. At what? He wasn’t sure, only reaching his mother’s elbows made it less likely that people would notice his hands in their pockets, but it also meant his vision was severely limited in crowds.
People moved to the dance floor; others just stood to listen unwilling to move their attention to anything other than whatever held it so strongly.
Hermes briefly tried flapping the wings on his feet hoping to get high enough to catch a glimpse over the tall heads around him.
Mom shifted, leaning in the other direction, “He’s there. I know he said all was forgiven but let’s not try our luck.”
She started, drawing him close again. Close and away from the voices.
Away from the table.
The bustling servants he was counting on were still further away.
Hermes was starting to worry he was going to miss his only chance, his only opportunity of escape, of a taste of the freedom he yearned for. When an unlucky dancer twirled their way and he stuck one winged sandal out, tripping the dancer. The dancer barreled through them, breaking his moms hold on him. Hermes yanked his hand away and sprinted for the table.
He could just about hear the dancer apologise profusely to his mother. “Oh, it’s alright,” she was responding moving her light brown hair out of her face, before she looked over to his previous spot. Her panicked shout followed him cutting through the song in the air, “Hermes come back! Hermes!”
She sounded so distressed! He wondered briefly if he should turn around and go back?
The lure of his curiosity won out, and he ducked under the table.
Crawling to the other side, he caught sight of a white bird watching him as he stood back up.
It was a little strange but not strange enough for him to stop entirely. He had exploring to do!
Weaving his way through the crowd was a whole lot easier on his own. And with the majority of the guests focused on the performance up front, no one paid heed to his hands slipping in and out of people’s bags and pockets, collecting trinkets, silver bracelets, even a necklace or two!
He even managed to snag a piece of the bread he was ogling earlier. Eating it was as satisfying and tasteful as he thought it would be, if not more! It was drizzled with ambrosia and regrettably better than the cows he almost perished for. If he’d known ambrosia was a thing back then, he probably would’ve taken lots of it instead!
Leaning against the wall at the edge of the ballroom, Hermes sorted through every one of his newly acquired toys. He placed them in the leather bag he relieved someone in a light red, almost pink gown of. While scoping out his next victim and looking for the exit to the vast room. It really was big. He hadn’t run into anyone he met when he was here last, nor had he heard his mom since he crawled out on the other side of the table. But he could still hear the enchanting music from the other side of the room, closer to the raised platform he had seen earlier. The one where the queen and king were both currently seated.
The king. His father. The man had darker hair than Hermes himself, and his eyes were much bluer than Hermes's brown. When Zeus looked over at his wife, so did Hermes, finding his eyes drawn in her direction.
Chills ran down his back when he found her looking directly at him.
The corner of her mouth rose slightly, she made a series of motions with her hands and a servant rushed to her side dutifully signaling something to someone on her left. Hermes's suspicions were confirmed when a guard started shoving his way to where Hermes was observing the scene. All too late he realized a few more guards were leaving their stations near the doors in favor of steadily creeping closer to him. Hair on the back of his neck stood up. Mom said Hera wasn’t pleased about them being here, or Hermes existing for that matter!
He moved as quickly as he dared, not wanting to attract attention, maybe he could slip away between the colourful fabrics and disorienting dancers waltzing through the room?
Hermes turned around trying to spot how far he’d gotten from the guards. He couldn’t see them now in the middle of the busy room. They could be anywhere.
A familiar voice frantically questioned, ”Has anyone seen my son? Hermes?”
Mom! Perfect! He’d go back to her, say how very sorry he is, and she could tell the guards that it was just a misunderstanding. Everything would be fine.
Except, while he was looking for his mother a large man appeared in front of him. Blocking her possible view of him and his of her.
“You’re the new little bastard, are you?” The man did not sound friendly. Not mad either. More gleeful, in a way that made his stomach turn over sideways and do a backflip.
Hermes's eyes turned wide when he saw a big hand reach for him, and his wings fluttered anxiously. He dove under the man’s hand and raced for escape. He wasn’t even sure where he was running to. He just knew he had to move.
Thundering footsteps eagerly followed him.
Running he could do. Running he could do very well, in fact. But he couldn’t do it forever. He had speed, not stamina. Don’t misunderstand, he had much more stamina than any mortal, but he was still practically a baby and compared to some of the inhabitants of Olympus he was not exactly a challenge. They just had to keep him running until he was inevitably too tired to continue.
His eyes flicked around everywhere looking for a way to get away. A white blur caught his attention as it soared above him. The bird! It was looking at him again. Watching him and then diving in a direction, clearly intentional.
Hermes figured it was better than nothing. He had to get out of the area. Away from where the other guards were combing through the crowd.
A hand reached for his hair, nearly catching it as he slowed to turn after the bird, veering right. Just spying the arch as the bird soared through it, he followed.
Apparently, it was a good choice to follow the bird, seeing as he ran right into a garden. With plenty of places to hide. The precious seconds he bought speeding up towards the arch, came in handy now while he used them to choose a hiding spot. Seeing as he had hardly any time, he jumped into the first bush he saw and sat as quietly as he possibly could.
The man stormed into the garden trailed quickly by three more guards, and Hermes was sure the only thing keeping the guard from hearing his heartbeat trying to escape his chest was the light voices and the strum of a lyre. The instrument still turning out a tune with the siren like singing picked up now, speeding up the dancing. Strange, how he could hear it clearly even from outside.
The white bird landed on a branch near Hermes's hiding spot. Eying him with its strange eyes. One of them was black, as you would expect of a bird, but the other was ringed by gold.
“Ares did you find him?”
“Does it look like I found him?” Ares. Hera's son. He was surveying the big man like he was considering what he would look like as a frog. Somehow between him and the big man who was at least a head taller than Ares, Ares still looked more dangerous.
“And its Prince Ares to you, Giorgos.”
“Of course, my prince.” Giorgos did not sound very happy. “Why don’t we split up and look for the troublemaker?” Giorgos suggested, ”First one to find him gets to bring his head to queen Hera.” Footsteps moved along through the garden, crinkling leaves as the stomped along. These ‘guards’ really needed a lesson in How To Be Stealthy.
It did however give Hermes a chance to try and come up with a plan.
‘Let’s see,’ he took a proper look around the vicinity. Many plants, some trees, more of a rose bush garden. Which explained the stinging sensation from the flowers he was crouched behind. No matter. The thorns wouldn’t pierce his skin if he dove headfirst into them. The sharp weapons the guards were carrying around on the other hand? They resembled what he’d heard about celestial bronze.
Hermes wasn’t stupid enough to test that. He quite liked his head right where it was.
The bird cawed at him. It sounded strangely annoyed. Like its patience was waning thin, ‘How dare this curly haired child not have thought of a plan by now?’
The music reached a buildup, rising in volume.
Now that he thought about it. If he was quick enough, he could make it to the pillars of the hall surrounding the courtyard of a garden. A plan was forming in his head, as he stood up softly, valuing silence over speed. The guard searching the hall barely had time to blink before he was behind a pillar, where he could peek around it without giving himself away. Armor made it hard to identify much about the soldier, other than how short he was. Only about two heads taller than Hermes. Bet that made him popular. The marble surrounding them made echoing scuffs as he strolled down the hall, barely even making an effort.
Hermes would be insulted if he wasn’t so relieved that he could dash into a room on his left without being seen. It was dark, probably just a storage room, perfect for what he was planning.
A pot that used to stand on a table next to the door on the inside of the room, shattered on the floor. Hermes just made it behind the door when the soldier barged in. Stepping further into the dark room, the guard saw the broken pot shards. He spun toward the door too late as it shut. Hermes made sure it locked. Then rushed to find the next guard, preferably before the rest heard their friend banging on the door.
It was two guards this time. That made it a tad harder, not impossible. The room he slipped into was a type of sitting room, with chairs and couches and bookcases. It was one of the bookcases he managed to shove over. One guard went to inspect the wreck, the other was surveying the room and so happened to catch a glimpse of Hermes's chiton, “Hey! There he is!”
Right as Hermes tried to shut the door a third armored guard made herself known behind him. Hermes tried ducking under her arm as he did with the large man, so she snagged his chiton instead. One winged foot flew up and kicked her in the stomach, using the hold she had on him as leverage.
She crashed through the door, directly into the other guards. The door shut too loudly this time, making a loud clang echo down the hall.
The only two left definitely would have heard that. Even through the blaring music from the ballroom. There were no instruments now. Just powerful voices. How loud was it in the ballroom if he could hear it so far away?
“Nikolaos, was that you?” It was Ares's voice.
No answer came and Ares called again, closer now, “Nikolaos, answer me!”
Hermes didn’t have time to make another trap before Ares came around the corner.
Ares didn’t call out at him. Didn’t even react when he spotted Hermes, just started charging at him.
Hermes found that Ares was much more conscious of his own movements, as Hermes barely even heard Ares chasing after him. And the pulse drumming in his ears drowned out the little noise Ares did make. He felt terror inching on his heels instead.
Despite the horror of feeling so much like prey, he kept his head clear enough to lead him back to the ballroom. Follow the voices. The sound came from all around him, yet a gut feeling told him if he followed this way, he would reach the distinctly male voice leading the choir. It might have just been that siren like quality drawing him closer, although the white bird approving of his choice of direction was very encouraging.
An arching doorway at the end of the hall made hope thrum in his chest. He was going to make it! He was far enough ahead of Ares to hopefully lose him in the crowd. And if he did happen to get caught it would be in front of bystanders who could help! In front of his mother! In front of his father! Only a few more meters until safety. The bird was already back in the ballroom.
Ares made a frustrated sound behind him, closer than Hermes thought he was. However close Ares was didn’t matter because he was going to make it.
He was so close-
Until a body blocked his way inside.
A big body in a guard’s armored uniform.
With a huge smile on his face.
Hermes swerved a little late, just catching himself. He was headed down a different hallway now. One he hadn’t seen before. He couldn’t run for much longer, breathing starting to quicken a tad too much.
Turns out he didn’t have to.
There was a wall.
A dead end.
He was stuck.
And there was twice the amount of terror behind him now. Apparently that last bit of fear dragged-out whatever speed he had left in him. Which was not a lot. He was so tired now.
Why did he leave his mother when she told him not to? Why did he keep getting in trouble? While the first time didn’t end badly, this time definitely would. The severity of the situation truly dawned on him as a salty droplet rolled down his cheek. Talking his way out of this wouldn’t work. Ares wasn’t Apollo he was a ‘swing first ask why it’s a child he’s swinging at later’ type of person. The perfect soldier. Another tear splattered onto his chiton.
Apollo, as a protector of youth, felt inclined to listen to him, even if he was utterly furious.
If Ares or any of the armored guards caught him, he would not have any say in where his head ended up.
All because he didn’t listen to mom. All because Hera was mad at him for existing.
A stream of salty droplets rolled down his cheeks.
He should’ve stayed with her. Should’ve returned immediately after he grabbed a piece of that amazing bread.
Ares and Giorgos showed up. Another tear dropped onto his chiton.
“Well, look what we have here? A little coward who can’t even keep his tears to himself?” Giorgos taunted.
“No need to draw this out.” Ares told Giorgos disapprovingly, stepping forward whilst unsheathing his celestial bronze sword.
Hermes made a pathetic sound at the sight of it, knowing full well no one would hear him if he called for help.
The singing stopped.
Suddenly silent enough to hear a needle fall, Hermes could see Ares frown and pause.
Giorgos didn’t seem to notice. He continued closer until Hermes heard a soft growling.
Ares snapped his head in Hermes's direction and swung before Hermes could react.
The sword flew towards him, and he briefly saw his own reflection in the polished blade. It was surreal how slowly the blade seemed to move, while in real-time it wasn’t moving slowly at all. Hermes, in his exhausted state would likely have ducked the first swing out of reflex but it would undoubtedly lead to a second, more lethal, stab.
Instead, something knocked him to the ground, “Ow,” he mumbled at the cold floor.
Standing over him was a large grey wolf. A snarling large grey wolf.
“Bullying children now are we, brother?” That voice he knew.
Ares turned toward the newcomer,” Half-brother, Apollo.”
Apollo strolled forward, ”And aren’t I glad about that.”
Giorgos foolishly decided now would be a good time to intervene and stepped in front of Apollo, who was on his way to the animal still shielding Hermes.
Apollo looked at Giorgos, narrowing his golden blue eyes. Giorgos might not have thought this through very well, because Apollo dressed in all his finery of a white chiton with golden embroidery, a chlamys to match, paired with gold dusted over his face and a crown mimicking the sun’s rays (shorter than Helios's since Apollo was still in training to drive the Sun Chariot, is what Apollo told him when he asked the first time they met. It was a long way to the cave he stashed the cows in.) was quite an intimidating sight.
“Your face offends me. Move.” How courteous of Apollo to not incinerate him on the spot. Giorgos gathered every piece of courage he had and stayed planted. Idiot.
“We are here on the orders of the queen. The little thief took something from her.” Apollo raised a perfect eyebrow, Giorgos paled and hastily added,” My lord.”
“Lots of people have taken something from her. Namely her husband’s attention.”
Ares stepped forward,” Watch it. She’s your queen.”
“Or what? You’ll tell on me? Go ahead. I'l tell father what you were doing before I interrupted. And I'l tell him whose plan it was.” Apollo observed Ares, “We take this before the council and see whose side he picks.”
Ares muttered a few choice words, Hermes vaguely heard ‘father’ and ‘favourite’, before throwing his hands in the air, “Why are you defending him? You tried to exile him!”
“I changed my mind.”
“He stole from you!”
“We made up. Now run along or I might make my way over to that pretty friend of Aphrodite and see if I can change his mind too.”
“You wouldn’t. She likes him. It would hurt her.”
“Try me. I like his eyes.”
Ares took one last look at Hermes, tear-stained face and all, before shaking his head and walking back down the corridor.
Apollo turned his full attention back to Giorgos, who promptly flung himself at Hermes.
He didn’t make it two steps before the wolf was on him.
“Lýkos! Let go.” Lýkos dropped Giorgos’s arm from where he was trying to drag him into a shadow, and turned back to Apollo. All perked ears, wagging tail and big eyes.
Apollo patted his head, “Good boy.” A wave of Apollo's hand and Giorgos disappeared. Hermes didn’t care to ask where to. He couldn’t wait till he would be able to do that.
“You named your pet wolf, Wolf?” Hermes stood up. Mom said to be cautious around Apollo should they ever meet again. Hermes had broken enough of her rules, but he thought that if Apollo was at all still mad at him he would’ve let Ares finish him off. Or would’ve gone through with his own plans of tossing him to Tartarus, instead of excusing him for stealing, trading with him, taking him home, and now defending him.
Apollo looked at Hermes in mock offense as Hermes dusted his clothes off. “I was like a week old! Poetry is no simple thing it takes time to learn.”
Hermes scratched Lýkos’s ears. Apollo wasn’t done yet, “And where is your sword? I traded it to you for a reason, if you had it you could have defended yourself.”
“Against Ares?” Hermes asked sarcastically.
“Yes! You dispatched all the others that were sent after you. That’s why I waited so long to intervene.”
“You let them chase me around and didn’t help?” Hermes wondered why the revelation stung so much.
Apollo shook his head making golden strands fall in front of his eyes, “I helped. I helped you out of the ballroom. I helped you find a hiding spot. And I helped you back to the ballroom! Before George stepped in anyways.”
“Giorgos.” Hermes corrected.
“I don’t care.” Apollo replied.
“Wait a moment. The bird? That was you?” That didn’t make sense, Apollo was singing with the muses. That’s what he now assumed his mother meant with the ominous ‘He’s there.’
Apollo held his arm out and whistled. Very loudly. How could a hunter who had to be as quiet as possible to catch anything be so loud? “Technically I had help, but I’m the one who told her to follow you when I heard Maia screaming your name.” The white bird landed on his arm and cawed. “This is my friend; she is a raven.”
“Let me guess, her name is Koráki as in Raven?”
“No. Her name is Lamprós. Why are you acting so snarky?” Apollo inspected him, “You weren’t so snappish when we last met.”
Hermes snorted, “When we last met, you were planning on dangling me over the Pit.”
Lýkos’s ears perked, Apollo’s attention was immediately on the direction Lýkos was dutifully guarding. A few seconds later Hermes too heard footsteps. Elegant strides, someone walking with purpose.
Hermes’s breathing quickened again. What if it was Hera coming to finish what she ordered herself? Apollo couldn’t fight her. He was only Helios's student, sure all the other various things he oversaw placed quite high on the power scale, but he wasn’t on Hera’s level. Not yet anyways.
If Hera decided it was over for him, he was a goner. Still too tired to run, he’d need a few bites of ambrosia or a big gulp of nectar if he was planning on duplicating the previous chase.
Apollo turned back to him, completely relaxed, only to see Hermes practically shaking. “Hey, it's alright,” He crouched down to be on eye level with Hermes and placed a hand on his shoulder,” It's only Caliope, I know her. Relax.”
True to his word, Calliope came into sight. Wearing similar coloring as Apollo, stylus pinned in her hair. “There you are,” She noted Hermes hiding behind Apollo and waved, “You found him then?”
He nodded briskly and she gently mentioned to Hermes, “Your mother has been looking for you. She’s asked me twice if I saw you.” She met Apollo eyes, “Which I assume has something to do with you?”
“Why do you always assume I did something?”
She took his hand with both of hers, “Dear Apollo I mean this in the fondest way possible, when have you not been involved in something?”
Was Apollo blushing, or did he add extra gold dust when Hermes wasn’t looking?
Hermes cleared his throat. This was too much ‘staring into each other’s eyes’ for him to handle.
Calliope and Apollo both looked at him. Apollo's stare, unamused as Calliope let go of his hand.
“Calliope would you mind letting Maia know I’ve found her son?” Apollo asked, “We can talk after she collected him.”
“Of course. I do so enjoy our conversations.”
Que gagging noises from Hermes.
She snickered, walking down the corridor.
Apollo steered Hermes toward the bathrooms, where he took a washcloth and helped Hermes clean the tear tracks off his face. He cleared the blotchy redness of Hermes's eyes with a healing touch. Then took him back to the ballroom, pausing outside. “Hermes don’t hesitate to call me if you need assistance, okay? Lamprós will not always be there.”
Hermes felt the reassurance spread in his chest. Calming his remaining nerves. “Okay. Thanks-” He didn’t get to finish the sentence.
“Hermes!” Mom’s arms surrounded him. “Sweetheart I was so worried! Please never run off like that again.”
Hermes hugged her back tightly.
A warm hand ruffled his hair, “Goodbye, little brother.” Apollo walked away, rejoining the sea of guests.
Mom picked him up and walked away from the chattering noises of the partygoers. “We are going home.”
Hermes didn’t complain, he could use some rest on one of the piles of hay covered in soft blankets they called beds.
Later, after they returned home and he had a much-needed nap, he picked up the bag of acquired things he dropped on the floor last night, right before he face planted into his pillow. Giorgos told Apollo that Hermes took something from Hera, but he couldn’t find what that supposed thing was. Until he was placing everything back in the bag, that is.
The leather bag he knew he took off a person in pinkish clothes. So why did it have a peacock feather carved into the inside? Was he overthinking this and whoever the real owner of the bag was, just liked peacocks? Her gown and her glare imprinted in his memory told him that no this wasn’t a lucky coincidence. Was she purposely trying to get him to steal from her? Going so far as to hand random guests her things in the small chance he would target them? To have a real reason to accuse him?
How was he supposed to compete with this when he was eventually strong enough to join them on Olympus?
He would have to figure it out. Apollo and Artemis were targeted by her too, they figured it out.
Besides Hermes would have help.
His brown-eyed gaze landed on the caduceus propped up against the dark rock wall of the cave. Sleeping snakes twined around it, snoring quietly.
From a friend.
From a brother.