Clipped

by nada_noname

Summary:

Divine Intervention. That can get a god in real trouble. Hermes knows this, but still aids Odysseus in his journey home. What happens, though, when Zeus finds out?

~~

Updates three times a week (maybe more if I feel like it)

Notes:

Please read Chapter 5 (Author's note) for some important information about this series!

Chapter 1

“And I call this root, Holy Moly! Hahahahaha!”

The start of a mistake. In Hermes’ defense, he was just trying to be helpful. Odysseus was his great-grandson after all.

“All you have to do is not open this bag.” 

Divine intervention. Twice. At least with the windbag, it was asked of him. Zeus still hadn’t found out about the Moly yet. There was no way. Hermes was still alive to tell the tale.

“Don’t thank me, friend, I’m not the one who fought for you.” Hermes’ heart ached for Athena. He still hadn’t been allowed to see her since the aftermath of the games. He glanced back at his great-grandson and realized he was waiting for something. Hermes just smiled, tipped his hat, and flew off, bidding the king one final “Good luck!”

Convinced the Great King of Ithaca was safely on his way home, Hermes flew off, headed towards Olympus.

His days were always busy – between delivering messages when asked, guiding souls to the underworld, and driving Apollo mad – he rarely had time for himself. Maybe today, he’d skip annoying his brother and take a nap instead. But when he got to Olympus, his plans instantly changed by his aforementioned brother racing out to him.

“Did you miss me that much, brother?” Hermes teased, grinning as Apollo raced over. His grin faded as he noticed the fear evident on the sun god’s face.

“Pollo? What’s wrong?”

“You have to go. Now!” Apollo shouted.

“Go? Go where, darling? I live here,” Hermes teased.

“Hermes, this is serious. Zeus found out. About the Moly. He’s furious.” Hermes felt the ichor drain from his face. He shook his head.

“That’s impossible. He can’t know. He can’t –!” Apollo cut him off.

“He does. I don’t know how. I don’t know who told him, but he knows. If he sees you, if he gets word you’re back, you’ll be summoned.” That wouldn’t be good. 

“Hermes, you’ve returned,” Hera’s voice interrupted the two. They looked at the doors of the palace where she stood. Hermes froze; it was too late. He threw a weak smile at Apollo before squaring his shoulders.

“Well, let's get this over with, shall we?” He walked towards Hera and into the palace. Anyone watching would see both sets of wings hanging straight down, unnaturally stiff. To those who looked closer, as Apollo did, they’d see the tiny tremors and shakes betraying the messenger god’s fear.

With a loud, echoing BOOM, the doors slammed shut, leaving Apollo outside and trapping Hermes inside. 

The walk to the throne room was silent, save for Hera’s heels clicking along the marble flooring. The usually talkative god found himself silent, unable to say anything. 

I’m his favorite son, right? Maybe my punishment will be lighter. As long as he doesn’t go all Thunder Bringer on me, I should be able to survive. Yeah, especially if I –

“He’s waiting for you,” Hera’s voice cut off his thoughts. He nodded.

“Right, umm, thank you,” he hoped the queen didn’t hear the way his voice cracked and shook with fear. He took a deep breath, braced himself, and entered the throne room.

“Hello, Father. Lovely to see you.” Hermes forced himself to smile, to be cheerful, to not give away the terror seeping into his very bones.

“Hermes. You know why you are here.” It wasn’t a question. Zeus towered over the messenger from his throne.

“Yes, yes, yes, Odysseus, Moly, windbags, all that,” he said, trying to maintain his usual, nonchalant tone.

“Divine intervention. UNAUTHORIZED divine intervention.” Zeus’s voice boomed. Hermes felt the air becoming prickly with electricity. 

“Father, he’s my kin. I had to help. I couldn’t do nothing.” Hermes pleaded.

“That was not your call. Giving your precious Moly to mortals is dangerous. Helping any mortal you want sets a precedent for all of us. We do not have time to help every one of our kin. You know this, Hermes.” Zeus’s voice left no room for argument. Hermes bowed his head.

“Yes, Father,” he said.

“You are the messenger of Olympus, and so you shall become a message. Let it be known to every god, goddess, and divine being: interference with mortal fate shall not go unpunished. For your transgression, I hereby temporarily strip you of your titles and your place among the Olympians.” Zeus declared.

“But, Father – !” Hermes cried out.

“I’m not finished!” Zeus roared. Hermes fell silent.

“Since you care so much about the mortals, you will learn to live as one.” Zeus snapped his fingers, and a tickling sensation wrapped around Hermes’ wings.

“You will keep your knowledge and your immortality, but until I deem you worthy of your titles again, you will not be a god.” Before Hermes could try to plead, to beg the God King to change his mind, he felt his godhood leave. There was a nagging sensation, begging him to leave Olympus, screaming that he no longer belonged there. 

Tears began rolling down his cheeks.

“Father, please,” he whispered, throwing himself at the king’s feet.

“Be grateful this is all I did, Hermes. You could have met a fate far worse.” Hermes thought back to Athena.

“Now, leave Olympus. You are no longer welcome here.” The words cut straight through Hermes. Banished. He was banished. His wings fluttered, trying to carry him away from the king, off Olympus, but he could not get himself airborne. 

“Your wings will be of no help to you, messenger. Now LEAVE!” Zeus roared. Hermes ran, tripping and stumbling, desperate to get away. He could fix his wings later. He raced through the halls, past gods and goddesses alike. Family and friends who would no longer look at him. He stopped at Apollo’s room, banging on the door.

“Polls. Pollo! APOLLO!” he cried. The door opened, and he stumbled inside, collapsing into a ball. His brother’s arms wrapped around him.

“Shhhh, Herms. It’s okay.” Apollo murmured, his hands gently carding through Hermes’ hair.

“I have to go. I’m not welcome in Olympus anymore.” Hermes sniffled. He looked up at Apollo, eyes full of worry.

“What do I do now?” he whispered. 

“I don’t know, Hermes. I wish I could help, but we’ve been ordered not to assist you. I’m not even supposed to speak with you until Father permits me.” Apollo’s hands brushed past the delicate wings on either side of Hermes’ head and froze.

“Hermes. What happened? What did father say?” Apollo whispered. Hermes recounted his punishment to the other. 

“He did something to my wings, they don’t work now. I don’t know what he did, Pollo.” Hermes said.

“Oh, Hermes. Your wings. They’re -” Apollo hesitated.

“They’re what? What happened?!” Hermes’ hands flew to either side of his head, feeling the delicate feathers. They were usually soft and fluid in their layering, until they ended abruptly.

“clipped,” Apollo said softly.

“No,” Hermes breathed, feeling the pair at his ankles as well. They, too, had been clipped. What were once beautiful and soft to the touch were now uneven and jagged beneath his fingertips.

“No. no, no No NO!” Hermes shouted. “I–I can’t fly! I’m stuck. How-Where-What,” he trailed off, voice broken. Apollo opened his mouth to speak when the door slammed open.

“Hermes, you have to go. Zeus knows you haven’t left. Don’t make him angrier with you.” Artemis stood in the doorway. “Please,” she added softly. Hermes nodded slowly and stood. He felt like time moved slowly as he left his brother’s room, as he walked down the halls, and out the door. He stood at the edge of Olympus and looked down. Below him lay the mortal world, where he would spend the next however long of his immortal life.

No longer the god of messages. No longer the grand psychopomp. No longer divine. 

Just Hermes. 

He spared only a glance behind him, the doors to the palace firmly closed. No one there to say goodbye. He took a deep breath and stepped off.

Falling had never scared him before; he often found free-falling fun, catching himself moments before hitting the ground, wings saving him. Now, he was terrified. There was nothing to catch him. 

The winds picked up momentarily, slowing his descent, gently cradling him in their arms and lowering him safely to the ground. Once his feet were steady, he looked up, knowing she couldn’t face him, but knowing they were there. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Hermes whispered into the wind. They would not respond to him, could not say anything by the bidding of the God King, but Hermes knew he was there, watching him. The wind seemed to wrap around him, holding him for a moment, before the air stilled again.

Alone. Hermes was alone. He looked around him, the land unfamiliar. It wasn’t sunny, clouds covered the sky, threatening to rain. Yet life stirred in the forest surrounding him. A soft whine came from behind, and he turned. A small wolf stood there, looking at him.

“Why hello, friend. I assure you I mean no harm, nor any disrespect.” Hermes bowed his head slightly to the animal before him. He stayed still as it stepped closer and closer, before brushing its head against his hand. Hermes carefully reached out and scratched its head. The wolf yipped and licked his hand before turning and running off.

“Goodbye,” Hermes whispered, watching the animal run off into the woods. The air cooled rapidly as night fell. Hermes found a large tree and curled up beneath it, letting the weight of the day drag him down, the stress finally consuming him. 

He wept, exhausted, apologies tumbling from his lips, begging for any sort of comfort. He missed his home, the warmth of Olympus. He missed his brother, even if they annoyed each other, he was one of the closest friends he had. He missed his mother, his family, even his father. A lone howl filled the air, soon joined by more and more voices. As the wolves sang, exhaustion overtook Hermes, and he succumbed to sleep.

---

Tiresias sat in their cave as they often did, lost in thought. It was quiet, too quiet. Hermes hadn’t visited in a while. Usually, the god tried to visit once a week. Sometimes, he could only make it once a month, but Tiresias understood. The duties of a god are demanding and time-consuming. Tiresias was always happy to see Hermes whenever he could show up.

But now...now it had been months.

Months had passed since he had seen the messenger god, and Tiresias was getting worried. They had tried not to hope, not to notice, but the ache in their chest spoke louder than his thoughts. 

Tiresias had grown to enjoy Hermes’ company. The mischievous god had quickly become more than a visitor, he had become a friend to the prophet. His laughter echoed in this cave long after he’d left, and his voice had painted colors into Tiresias’s mind that even blindness could not dim. Hermes was the warmth that had been missing from Tiresias’s existence for so long.

Tiresias had once called Hermes annoying. Too talkative and overly fond of dramatics for their liking. Now, they missed the very things he used to groan about. His ridiculous stories, the feeling of air shifting as he hovered close, the way his fingers had once cupped their chin just so when trying to make a point.

Tiresias pressed their palms against the cool ground, grounding themself in the present.

Perhaps he’s simply forgotten.
Perhaps he grew bored.
Perhaps he’s moved on to brighter company.

Tiresias figured it would happen eventually, but that didn’t make the thought hurt less. He told themself they should have known better. What business did a god have keeping company with a blind, dead prophet in a cave?

Still, they waited.

Then, a sound. Footsteps. Soft, tentative. Tiresias’s heart stuttered, breath catching in his throat. He leaned forward, listening.

A flutter of wings? None came.

The cave remained heavy and still, the sound of feathers absent.

His shoulders slumped before he could stop himself. Not Hermes. Not this time.

Still, duty stirred, as it always did. They stood slowly, running a hand over the staff beside them, ready to greet whoever it was that sought prophecy today.

But his mind lingered, stubbornly, on what it had been hoping for. Hermes, they thought.

Where are you?

Chapter 2

Summary:

Hermes makes it into the underworld and Tiresias gets a visitor.

When Hermes awoke, the first thing he noticed was the cold. It bit into his skin, seeped beneath the light tunic he was wearing, and wrapped around his very bones. A shiver ran through him. He curled into himself for a moment before rising slowly. Helios was already lifting the sun into the sky, chasing the shadows back and bringing a touch of warmth to the waking world.

He stood, brushing off the dirt and leaves that clung to him, his limbs stiff, and surveyed his surroundings. Somewhere beneath his feet, he felt it: a tug, faint but steady. The pulse of the Underworld. It wasn’t the forceful pull it had been when he bore messages between realms. It was quieter now, more like a memory.

“Still there,” he murmured. “At least some part of me still remembers.”

There was an entrance nearby. He could sense it.

“Will Uncle Hades see me?” he wondered aloud, pushing through the forest. “Am I still allowed to call him that? Am I still welcome in his realm?” The question twisted in his chest.

His thoughts wandered to someone who always welcomed him, Tiresias. How long had it been? Too long. Shame curled in his gut.

“Hopefully, he’s not too upset with me,” Hermes muttered. “I’ll explain what happened. Apologize. Maybe he’ll let me stay for a while. At least until I figure out what to do next. He wouldn’t mind... right?” The uncertainty lingered, but he clung to the idea anyway. It was better than nothing.

“I know, I'll bring him a gift.” His voice brightened. “They like flowers.”

He started scanning the forest floor. “Tulips,” he recalled, his lips curling in a faint smile. “He told me they’re his favorite.” He found a clearing filled with flowers and carefully picked a few, arranging them clumsily but with care, clutching the small bouquet like a prize.

He searched for the entrance once more, following the subtle pull until he found it nestled behind a waterfall. Hidden from mortal view, but Hermes, even fallen as he was, could still see it shimmering, beckoning him closer. 

He stepped closer and paused, uncertainty gnawing at him.

The underworld had never harmed him before, but he used to belong there. Would the realm still welcome him now that he was no longer required? He took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

He stepped through and found himself, once again, falling. There was no Aeolus to cradle him this time. No divine wind to bear him down gently. The realm of the dead greeted him with silence and a hard, unrelenting floor.

He hit the ground with a thud.

---

“Prophet of Thebes,” A voice spoke, rich with power. Tiresias fell to their knees.

“Lord Hades,” He breathed, “What brings you to see me?”

“Rise, prophet, and tell me your name.” Tiresias stood, as instructed.

“My name is Tiresias, Lord Hades. It is an honor to be in your presence,” they answered.

“Tiresias of Thebes.” Hades continues. “I come on behalf of my nephew, Hermes.” 

Tiresias stilled, suppressing a gasp. A million questions lay on their tongue: Is he alright? What happened? Why hasn’t he visited? Am I in trouble with him or you? But he withheld them, waiting for the king to speak.

“I understand the two of you have formed a friendship of sorts, haven’t you?” Hades asked.

“Yes, Lord Hades.”

“He needs your help,” Hades said. Tiresias tilted their head slightly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be of much help. The gods remain beyond my sight; I cannot see their futures. They rarely appear in my visions at all. I apologize, Lord Hades, for wasting your time.” Tiresias said, lowering back to kneel before the king.

“That is not what brings me here, prophet. All I ask is that you receive him when he arrives. My brother has punished him. He is stranded, cut off, and, by Zeus’s command, the other gods cannot intervene. I would go to him if I could, but even I am not foolish enough to openly defy the God King.” 

“I would be honored to help in whatever way I can, Lord Hades.” He bowed his head.

“Thank you, Tiresias of Thebes. He has just entered the Underworld. Rest assured, my realm will not harm him. My only concern is of harm he may cause himself.” Tiresias nodded, his heart already aching for the god, worried about whatever punishment Zeus had given Hermes.

“Of course, Lord Hades. Lord Hermes is my friend; I would never turn him away.” Tiresias said.

“My wife and I thank you. We will watch from afar and help as we can.” Hades said. Tiresias heard the rustle of Hades’ robes as the god turned to leave. 

“Oh, and Tiresias,” Hades said, turning back over his shoulder, “wish him well from us. If either of you needs anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The prophet nodded.

“Of course, Lord Hades.” With that, the king's presence was gone. Tiresias remained kneeling long after, his thoughts racing.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Hermes makes his way to Tiresias's cave. Turns out, the Underworld is not as forgiving to those who don't belong there.

Notes:

So this one's a little on the short side, but the next one is worth it, I promise!

Hermes groaned as he pushed himself upright, brushing bits of dust and bone from his tunic. He shivered as the cold of the dead realm seeped into him.

“Curse these thin Olympian tunics,” Hermes mutters, wrapping his arms around himself, careful of the flowers in his hand. “Now I understand why Tiresias wears all those robes.”

He stumbled forward, the air heavy with silence, until the dark waters of the Styx came into view. And there, standing in his boat with oar in hand, was Charon.

The Ferryman's hollow eyes narrowed. “No coin, no passage,” he rasped automatically, then paused. “Unless it’s you.”

Hermes managed a weak smile. “Still remember me, old friend?”

Charon’s expression didn’t change, but he motioned him forward. “Get in.”

The ride was quiet, save for the splash of the oar and the occasional groan from the river. When they reached the far bank, Hermes turned to thank the Ferryman.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Charon said. “It’s different now.”

Hermes hesitated. “I have nowhere else to go.” His voice was quiet.

Charon nodded and bowed his head to the fallen messenger as he left the ferry.

“None of that, friend. My status has been revoked.” Hermes corrected.

“I bow not to a god, but to the soul of a friend. I wish you the best, Hermes.” Hermes looked down, unsure how to accept such reverence when he felt so hollow inside. As the boat began to drift back to the other side, Hermes returned the gesture, inclining his head to his friend.

The deeper Hermes wandered into the realm, the more the land seemed to resist him. Paths shifted beneath his feet, and twisted voices echoed off cavern walls, tempting him to stray. He nearly did once, drawn toward a faint light, flickering with warmth. A trick, he realized too late, as bony fingers reached for him from just beyond the shadows. He scrambled back, panting, until the whispers died away.

When he finally reached the banks of the River Lethe, he dropped to his knees, the scent of forgetfulness thick in the air. Across the water, perched on a jagged outcrop, sat the home of his prophet.

Hermes stood shakily, bouquet still miraculously intact, and stepped forward hoping, praying, that his friend still waited there. The Lethe babbled beside him encouragingly, its mist curling around his ankles, raking through the clipped feathers there.

Hermes stared up at the entrance.

It hadn’t changed. The cave still yawned like a half-lidded eye, ringed with soft moss. It was quiet, save for the distant splash of Lethe’s current, and the rhythmic beat of his own heart thudding painfully in his ears.

He clutched the bouquet tighter, mindful of the delicate stems. His hands were shaking.

Would Tiresias still want to see him? 
Would he care to know a wingless god? 
A former deity exiled and stripped of purpose? 

Hermes swallowed hard. He had always spoken so confidently, so effortlessly, when he visited before, spinning stories and regaling the tales of his days to the prophet. But now, now he didn’t feel like he belonged here. He was just a disgraced god with nowhere to go.

He took a breath and stepped forward, one foot dragging slightly behind the other. The wind didn’t answer him. The ground offered no comfort. He was utterly alone, except, maybe, for the hope that Tiresias still waited beyond the shadows of that cave.

He reached the mouth of it, pausing beneath the stone arch. “Tiresias?” he called softly, voice barely more than a breath.

No answer. But the air inside shifted, warmer somehow. Familiar.

Hermes stepped inside.

The cave was a maze of twisting caverns. If one went down the wrong tunnel, they could meet a gruesome end. Luckily, Hermes knew the tunnels like the back of his hand. He quickly forced himself back into his old mannerisms – smiles, teasing, and witty remarks – before stepping into the central area of the prophet’s cave.

“Tiresias, darling, I’m back!”

Chapter 4

Summary:

They finally reunite with each other...enjoy :)

Hermes, punished and stranded. The thought didn’t sit right with Tiresias. It stirred up far more worry in his heart.

What happened?
Is this why he’s been away?
Is he okay?

It was silent, save for the Lethe’s babbling outside. Then – a footstep.

Tiresias froze. It couldn’t be, could it? There was the softest flutter accompanying the steps.

It was Hermes. It had to be.

But something was off. The steps were far too audible. Hermes loved to float in, wings carrying him in a way he thought was undetectable to the prophet. He never walked.

A soft breath and then a voice.

“Tiresias, darling, I’m back!” It was Hermes, his voice was unmistakable.

Tiresias turned to face the god.

“Lord Hermes,” A smile broke across the prophet’s face, and he moved toward the other. Had he been able to see, Tiresias would have seen Hermes’ smile fall as the messenger visibly winced at the title.

“Now, now, darling. Let’s drop the formalities, shall we? Hermes is just fine, my darling prophet.” Off. Something was off. His voice wasn’t right. There was a hollowness behind the charm, like he was performing a version of himself that no longer quite fit. 

“Hermes, are you alright?” Tiresias asked, now close enough to feel the warmth radiating off the god. It all felt wrong.

“Hmmm? Why, of course, I’m alright, darling. I just had to come say hello.” Hermes reached out and gently took the prophet’s hand in his own, rubbing his finger over the back of it. “It’s been far too long, hasn’t it? Simply unacceptable on my part.” Hermes placed something in his hand. Leaning his staff against himself and freeing his other hand, Tiresias felt the objects given to him. 

“Flowers?” He asked, momentarily forgetting the off-ness of the situation. “Tulips!” They exclaimed more excitedly, feeling the petals of the flowers.

“Only the best for you, darling,” Hermes said, chuckling a little. There was the wrongness again. The laugh was too forced. Tiresias sighed and picked his staff back up. He walked over to a small crevice in the wall and laid the flowers down among many other, now wilted, bouquets from Hermes.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Hermes asked, still on the other side of the room.

“You’re hiding something from me, Hermes.” Tiresias walked back over. “Something is wrong.” They reached their hand up towards Hermes’ face. The god guided their hand up until Tiresias’s fingers rested against his cheek.

“I wish you wouldn’t hide things from me. You know you don’t have to.” Tiresias whispered, tracing his fingers along the outline of the messenger’s features, before running through his hair. As their hand approached the small wings that lay on either side of Hermes’ head, the god tensed, his breath catching. Then, his fingers closed gently around Tiresias’s wrist, halting his movement.

His grip was gentle, but firm enough to stop the prophet’s movement. Hermes’ breath hitched, a sound catching in his throat that couldn’t quite become words.

“Lord Hermes,” Tiresias murmured, feeling the god flinch at the word this time, “What is troubling you so deeply, my friend?” Hermes sighed.

“You’ll find out soon enough; just please,” he trailed off, letting go of Tiresias’s hand. “Don’t think less of me.” 

Tiresias’s hands reached the base of his wing, “You know I never could.”

The moment was short, yet it seemed to stretch on for eternity. Hermes could feel as Tiresias slowly made his way towards the clipped end of his wings, he held his breath, nervously awaiting the prophet’s reaction.

Tiresias gasped when his fingers brushed over the jagged ends of the wings. His fingers lingered at the ragged edge. The silence stretched until it became unbearable. “Oh, Hermes,” he whispered. The fallen god shuddered, pulling his head out of the prophet’s grasp.

“Please,” Hermes whispered, “spare me the pain. I’m as ashamed of them as you are.” His voice was broken.

“Ashamed?” Tiresias began, his hand reaching back out, trying to find the god. “Why would I be ashamed?” he asked softly. Hermes stared at him incredulously.

Hermes let out a shaky breath, looking away. "Zeus, he punished me. For helping Odysseus without permission from the gods. I've been stripped of my status and place as an Olympian. My godhood has been revoked. I’m no longer who I was. My wings…” He trailed off, reaching his hands out to meet Tiresias’s still outstretched one, grasping it in his. “He clipped my wings, Tiresias. I can't fly anymore. Not until he decides I can have them back. I'm stuck here, grounded, trapped. I’m not the god I once was. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with me anymore.”

Tiresias let out a sharp exhale, his grip tightening on the god's hand. His staff clattered to the ground as his other hand raised behind his head, finding the tie on his blindfold. He tugged it free, letting the cloth fall from his face. That same hand then reached out and cupped Hermes’ face, gently turning his head to face him.

“Hermes,” he began. “My beloved, Hermes,” he whispered reverently. He felt the god’s gaze meet his own. Hermes inhaled, overtaken by the beauty of Tiresias’s eyes.

“Why should I be ashamed of your imperfection when you’ve been so accepting of mine?” they asked, voice gentle. Hermes stayed silent. He didn’t have an answer, well, not one that Tiresias would accept. Instead, he collapsed into the prophet’s open arms, trembling.

Tiresias pulled Hermes into a gentle embrace, his hands moving to soothe the trembling god. He rested his cheek against Hermes’s head, murmuring quiet reassurances, his voice a steady anchor. His fingers brushed over the clipped wings, showing love to the places that Hermes felt were undeserving of such a sentiment.

Hermes melted into the embrace, eyes stinging as the warmth of Tiresias’ presence seeped into his very being. For the first time since the fall, the tightness in his chest loosened. Here, in the dark, someone still saw him - still held him.

“Thank you,” Hermes whispered, the words almost lost in the fabric of Tiresias’s robes. Tiresias tilted his head slightly, a soft hum of acknowledgment.

“Hades was here earlier. He asked me to wish you well.” Tiresias murmured into Hermes’ hair. “He said the realm will not harm you while you’re here.” 

“Can I stay with you, please?” Hermes choked out, lifting his head from the prophet’s shoulder, meeting his unseeing eyes once more. “I promise I’ll stay out of the way, I just,” he paused, “I just need a place to stay while I figure things out.” 

“Oh, Hermes,” Tiresias breathed, “of course you’re allowed to stay.” Hermes released a breath, “Thank you.” He whispered.

After a few moments of quiet comfort, Hermes’ body stiffened subtly, his hands pulling away from Tiresias’ back. The god shifted uneasily, his gaze falling toward the floor as though he were searching for an escape. Slowly, he pulled away from the embrace, his wings fluttering slightly, a sign of restlessness. Tiresias could feel the tension in his movements, could feel the restlessness and unease in the other’s movements.

“Hermes?” Tiresias whispered, sensing the change in the air. He reached out and gently cupped the side of Hermes' face, guiding his gaze back to meet his own. “What is it?”

Hermes hesitated, his eyes flitting away as though he couldn't hold Tiresias’ steady gaze. He drew in a breath, a shaky sigh escaping him as he wrung his hands. “I can’t stay here, Tiresias. You’ve been so kind, but…” His voice trailed off, an uncomfortable tightness in his throat making it hard to speak.

Tiresias’ hand remained on his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against the skin. He gave Hermes a soft, patient smile. “You’ve already stayed, my beloved Hermes,” they murmured. “And you’ll stay as long as you need. You don’t have to leave.”

“I’m a burden,” Hermes muttered, barely audible. His shoulders slumped.

“No,” Tiresias replied firmly, their voice soothing, but unyielding. He gently tried to pull Hermes back into their arms, but the fallen god resisted. “You are not a burden. Never a burden. You are welcome here. You are needed here.”

“I’m not a god anymore, Tiresias.” his hands flew to the wings on either side of his head, wrapping around the jagged feathers and pulling. He didn’t even feel the pain. “I can’t fly or do anything I’m supposed to do. I’m nothing, I’m not important anymore. I’m just…” his voice quieted as his fingers dug in harder. 

Tiresias reached up and gently unthreaded Hermes' fingers from the delicate wings, quickly straightening the few feathers Hermes had tugged out of place. 

“You may not be a god, but you’re still Hermes. My Hermes.” Tiresias whispered. Hermes tried to speak, to argue, to say anything, but all that came out was a strangled whine. Tiresias softly shushed the god before guiding him into the warmth of his embrace again.

Hermes stiffened for a moment but didn’t pull away. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes and surrendering to the prophet’s embrace. His body relaxed, and he let the warmth of Tiresias’ arms ease him back into a state of peace.

“Please, don’t send me away,” Hermes whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. Tiresias felt how the god’s fingers tightened in their robes, almost desperately holding onto the prophet.

Tiresias chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly, as if to reassure him even more. “You’re not going anywhere. Not while you need me, and I need you.”

Notes:

Seriously, do you want this to continue? It may anyways, but I'd love to know.

Chapter 5: Author's Note - Some Important Information

Hello!

I've decided that I will be turning this into a series. I don't know how long it will be, but my plan is to get some more written before I post any more chapters. I have a bad habit of starting a series and losing interest in it far too quickly.

That being said, I already have the next two chapters written. I will probably update once or twice a week. I don't plan on having specific update days as of now.

A few things about me to be aware/respectful of (please):
I am a college student who is taking spring and summer classes. The work for these classes comes before my writing (unfortunately).
I also have jobs to work and a social life to commit to that take up time.

This is why I say I will likely only update once or twice a week. Don't worry, though, I do plan on updating as regularly as possible. Just please be respectful if I have to miss an update. I will always try to keep on schedule, but life happens.

Some expectations about the story:

I will not be writing smut, I'm just not comfortable with it. I may elude to it eventually if it feels fitting in the moment, but I will not be writing smut scenes. I'm sorry if that's what you're here for.

This will be a romantic HermesxTiresias story. I know many people who only view them as friends and are uncomfortable with portraying them as partners, so if that's you, please read ahead with this knowledge.

My portrayal of these characters is not a portrayal of any actual gods, goddesses, deities, divine beings, or other religious figure. I am writing them as the characters from EPIC. While I am not a Hellenist, I have respect for all religious figures and feel uncomfortable writing about the actual deities. This is in no way meant to represent the divine beings, this is simply fiction.

 

Thank you for taking the time to read this author's note, I know it's not the actual story, but I promise, I'll have a new chapter out soon! Keep an eye out tomorrow (May 4) or Monday (May 5), it should be up then.

Hope you all have a great day! Thank you for being excited (I hope you are anyways...)

Love y'all!
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 6

Summary:

Apollo is lost in thought, missing Hermes and feeling guilty for not standing up for him. After chatting with Athena, Ares, and Aphrodite, he decides to confront Zeus about Hermes’s punishment.

Apollo wandered through the halls of Olympus. It was far too quiet, too still, without Hermes’ chaos racing through the halls. He sighed, wandering aimlessly. There were duties to attend to, but the god found himself unable to do them. 

Hermes, I hope you’re safe. Wherever you are. I hope you found someone to keep you company. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you.

He stopped walking and sighed. 

“He’ll be okay, you know,” Athena’s voice came from behind him. He turned to face her, a small smile on his face. A large scar crossed her face, the aftermath of Zeus’s anger following the games to free Odysseus.

“He’s tougher than you think, Apollo. He has a lot to figure out, but he’ll be fine.” Apollo nodded silently.

“Athena, good to see you up and well. I assume Odysseus has made it home safely now?” He asked. She nodded.

“He is with his family again. His son is turning out to be quite the warrior as well.” She smiled softly.

“I’m sure, under your teachings, he will continue to grow,” Apollo said warmly.

“That was quite the spectacle, now wasn’t it!” Ares’ voice boomed from down the hall. The two turned to look and saw a wide smile stretching across the god’s face.

“When you promised me bloodshed, Athena, I had my doubts, but he pulled through. What a sight indeed!” The God of War cheered. Aphrodite stood next to him, holding his arm in her hands.

“Did you see his reunion with his family, though? He’s such a sweetheart.” She sighed. Athena frowned.

“Remember how, not too long ago, you were all for letting him rot with Calypso?” The two frowned. Apollo scratched his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was called to the games. If you ask me, Helios would have been a better pick if Zeus didn’t want you to win. He loves his cows,” he mused.

“I don’t really know what Father was thinking, but I’m glad it was you. I find it hard enough to just have a conversation with Helios, let alone trying to convince him of anything.” Athena sighed. Apollo shrugged.

“I mean, the sirens’ deaths were a shame, but I don’t blame him. It was just really brutal. I mean, cutting off their tails and then still throwing them back in to drown? Yikes.” Apollo shuddered.

“Yeah, maybe not his best moment…” Athena trailed off. 

“Or sacrificing all of his crew for himself,” Aphrodite added.

“No, I think I’m with him on that one. I mean, especially since Eurylochus opened the windbag after Odysseus told him not to. Killed one of Helios’s cows after Odysseus told him not to.” Ares started counting on his fingers, “And then the rest of Odysseus’s entire crew banded against him and stabbed him.” He looked at Aphrodite, “I’d say he was justified.” She rolled her eyes.

“Say what you want, Ares. It wasn’t very noble of him,” she huffed. Athena stepped between the two.

“It was a messy situation for both sides. While I don’t agree with his choice, I can’t condemn him for it.” 

“Very wise, Thena,” Ares teased the Goddess of Wisdom. She rolled her eyes and lightly punched him in the arm.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” But a smile was evident on her face. Ares chuckled.

“At least you’ve still got a sense of humor. Glad Zeus didn’t fry it out of you,” he laughed, Aphrodite joining in. Athena and Apollo soon followed, laughing softly with the other two. 

Hermes should be here, with us. Apollo caught himself thinking, the smile quickly fading from his face. The others noticed. Ares and Aphrodite quickly excused themselves, heading off to do their respective duties of the day. Athena turned to Apollo and knelt down so their eyes met.

“It’s okay to miss him. I miss him. We all do, even Zeus – though he won’t admit it.” Apollo nodded and sighed.

“I just wish I could do something. Convince Zeus to change his mind. But Father would never admit he’s wrong, would never go back on his punishments.” Athena nodded, understanding.

“He didn’t deserve it, Thena,” Frustration bled into Apollo’s voice. “He didn’t deserve to be cast off Olympus, to have his wings clipped, to be unable to receive help from any of us.” He paused a moment. “He didn’t deserve that,” he whispered.

Athena didn’t answer at first. Her eyes searched his face, as if trying to find the right thing to say that wouldn’t break him further. “You’re right. He didn’t.” She settled on. “But we’re gods, Apollo. Kindness doesn’t teach lessons, it isn’t always merciful. Sometimes, kindness teaches far more damaging lessons.”

Apollo’s hands clenched at his sides. “Then maybe it’s time someone taught Zeus a lesson.” He glared at her. There was a long silence between them. Apollo’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Athena took a breath. “Mind what you say, young god. You may not agree with our father, but it would be unwise to openly defy or anger him.” Her voice was low, serious.

Determination filled Apollo’s mind, her words seemed to blow right past him. He turned on his heel, heading for the throne room.

“Apollo, wait. Think this through!” Athena called behind him, but he ignored her. He stormed up to the throne room and pushed the doors open.

“FATHER!” He shouted. The very ground rumbled beneath him as the King turned to face him.

“You presume much, son of mine,” Zeus said, voice low and dangerous. “Storming into my court. Demanding. You are lucky that no one is here to overhear such insolence.” He rose from his throne, every movement echoing with power.

“I want to understand why,” The sun god’s voice was tight with barely contained fury. “He helped. That’s all he did; he helped someone. A mortal who needed it. Odysseus was never going to win without that protection. You know that. Aren’t we supposed to be kind beings? Isn’t that what the mortals believe? That we protect them? Hermes was just upholding that belief!” He argued.

Zeus’s eyes flashed.

“You undermine my authority by questioning it.”

“I am questioning it!” Apollo shouted now, his voice cracking with anger. “You clipped his wings. You cast him down. You banished your own son for showing compassion!”

“Compassion?” Zeus sneered. “Is that what you call defiance now?”

“He helped his family, his blood. And his other family, the ones who should have protected him? They punished him instead.”

Zeus took a step forward. The thunder rolled louder.

“He broke the rules.”

“And who made the rules?!” Apollo snapped. “Was it justice? Or was it your pride?”

“DO YOU WISH TO JOIN HIM, APOLLO?!” The God King roared. Thunder rattled through every realm, shaking the core of every being, alive or dead.

Apollo fell silent; the realization of just what he was doing, who he was accusing, set in. He spoke again, voice barely more than a whisper.

“No, Father. I was wrong. I was angry and lashed out, but I had no right to behave in this way. He fell to his knees, lowering his head. “Forgive me, please, Almighty Zeus.”

Zeus sighed, staying quiet for a moment, the thunder quieting. He then spoke, voice soft. “I know Hermes’ absence has been hard. I know you were close. I will forgive you this once, as I know emotions are strong. But do not let it happen again.”

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” Apollo muttered. He turned as fast as he could, racing out of the throne room, breathing heavily.

What was he thinking?

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed!

Don't worry, we'll be back with Hermes and Tiresias soon.

I decided to post this today since I'm actively writing Chapter 10 already and have the next few planned out too!

Chapter 7

Summary:

Hermes and Tiresias go on a small adventure :)

The cave was quiet. The two had moved to Tiresias's couch. 

A couch, Tiresias had only acquired upon Hermes’ insistence. They ran their fingers over the fabric of the couch, remembering that day. Hermes had been so insistent, so certain that comfort was a necessity, even in the Underworld. Tiresias smiled softly at the memory.

~~Flashback~~

“Darling, this cave is much too barren. How can you be comfortable?” Hermes asked, glancing around the cave in disbelief.

“I have no need for comfort, Lord Hermes. I am here simply to deliver prophecies, not to live a lavish afterlife.” Tiresias responded, unseeing eyes gazing out into the mist of the Underworld. Hermes groaned.

“Yes, yes, yes. I know you believe you don’t need comfort, but, seriously, darling. You don’t even have a bed.” He exclaimed.

“Why do I need a bed? I do not require sleep.” Tiresias pointed out.

“Neither do I, darling, but it’s still lovely to indulge in once in a while,” Hermes grinned.

“I am to be accessible at all times, Lord Hermes. Do not forget that. If I were to be asleep and someone required my services, I would be punished.” 

“Tiresias, how often do souls actually come to you for prophecy?” Hermes asked. Tiresias fell silent.

“Exactly!” Hermes exclaimed. “You needn’t worry, dear prophet. I will take care of arranging to get the furniture. I just want your approval.” The messenger fluttered over to the prophet, who sighed. 

“I suppose. As long as you promise to walk me through where everything is placed, so I don’t run into it throughout the day.” Tiresias relented.

“Of course, darling, of course,” Hermes said, pulling the prophet into a brief hug. 

~~End Flashback~~

Comfort, something Hermes didn’t think he would feel again. But here he was, lying on Tiresias’s couch, his head in the prophet’s lap. Tiresias’s hands brushed through his hair, fingers grazing the wings on Hermes’ head. Hermes briefly tensed, but settled again after a moment.

Tiresias won’t judge him. He told himself.

The prophet noted the wings flicking lazily back and forth, content. He briefly felt the set on the former messenger’s ankles, which mirrored the action.

“You feel more relaxed.” Tiresias’s voice broke the silence. Hermes smiled.

“Shhh. I’m sleeping.” He murmured. Tiresias smiled too.

They stayed like that for a few moments more, letting time pass on its own, content in each other’s company. Then it grew too still for Hermes, too quiet.

Tiresias felt the other’s wings flitting back and forth more restlessly. Then Hermes groaned and sat up, startling the prophet briefly.

“Hermes?” They asked, reaching out. Hermes guided their hands to his face.

“I’m bored,” he stated, a small pout on his face. Tiresias felt this and smiled.

“Of course. I should have known you wouldn’t be able to sit still for this long.” He laughed. Hermes gasped.

“It’s not my fault. Remember, darling, I am the god of,” he paused briefly, “sorry, I was the god of speed.” The former god waited to feel remorse and sorrow, but to his surprise, none came.

“How could I forget? I can only hope that you find it in yourself to forgive me.” Tiresias laughed, letting his hands drop from Hermes’ face.

“Hmmm,” Hermes pretended to consider the prophet’s words. “I suppose I can forgive you if you join me on a short journey, my dear.” He flashed a smile at the prophet.

Tiresias felt their heart jump at the nickname. He was no stranger to Hermes' flirtatious nicknames, but the fallen god had never called him ‘my dear’ before. Surely it was just another nickname. Tiresias knew there was no way Hermes could return his feelings.

“A journey?” The prophet sounded hesitant. “I don’t know, Hermes, I’m not overly fond of leaving my cave.” They fretted. Hermes’ face softened. 

“Oh, darling, you have nothing to fret about. I’ll make sure no harm befalls you. I only wish to visit the Lethe. Just outside of your cave.” He promised, gently taking Tiresias’s hands in his own.

“Very well, then. A trip to the riverbanks it is.” Tiresias said, feeling around for their staff. Hermes picked up the staff from beside the couch and pressed it gently into Tiresias’s searching hands.

Hermes shivered as the prophet’s warmth left him. He sighed again, looking down at his outfit.

“Darling?” He asked. Tiresias glanced over at him.

“Hmm?” Hermes grinned sheepishly.

“You wouldn’t happen to have an extra set of robes, would you? I hate to bother, but this tunic is far too thin for this realm.”

“I tell you to dress warmer every time you visit,” Tiresias says, walking towards the small side room of the cave that Hermes had designated his bedroom. A small closet had been carved into the wall to store Tiresias’s robes. He grabbed a set and handed it to the fallen messenger.

“I hope they fit,” he added as Hermes took them. The messenger winked, though the prophet didn’t see.

“I’m sure it will be just fine, darling.” Sure enough, when Hermes slipped them on, they fit perfectly. Hermes sighed in content as the warmth surrounded him.

“Thank you, darling.”

“Of course. Are you ready to go then?” Tiresias asked.

“Yes, yes. All ready now. Nice and warm.” He took the prophet’s hand gently. “Thank you for indulging me, darling,” he said, slowly leading the prophet away from the comfort and familiarity of their cave. 

The two walked slowly, side by side, not quite touching, but close enough that the prophet knew he wasn’t alone. They paused as they left the winding tunnels, stopping just before the mouth of the cave.

Tiresias’s fingers curled tightly around his staff, nervous to step outside. The air shifted subtly here. It was cooler, thinner, touched by the strange hush of the Underworld’s rivers. Tiresias didn’t need sight to tell they were entering a new place; they could feel the difference, and it made their stomach tighten.

Hermes noticed the other’s hesitation. Of course he did. He stepped to the prophet’s side, careful not to crowd, but near enough that the small wings on his ankle brushed against Tiresias, reminding him of his presence. 

“You’re alright, darling,” he said softly. “It’s just a short walk. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Tiresias didn’t answer immediately. His free hand opened and closed by his side, like he was grasping for something to anchor himself.

“I haven’t left this cave since I first arrived,” they admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Not really. It’s…” He trailed off.

“Unfamiliar?” Hermes offered. “A little scary?”

Tiresias exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Hermes reached out, slowly, giving Tiresias time to pull away, but the prophet didn’t. Hermes pulled him closer.

“You have nothing to fear, darling,” he said, his voice warm with something like reverence. “I’ve traveled through this place enough times.”

Tiresias nodded once, small and uncertain. “Just…” he paused, “tell me what to expect. I hate not knowing.”

“Of course,” Hermes murmured. “There’s a slight dip just past the threshold, nothing sharp, just a small incline. I’ll help you down. Then it levels out. The stone path is smooth, a little damp, but not slippery. The air is cooler outside, but I’m sure you already noticed, you brilliant prophet.” Tiresias’s face flushed ever so slightly at Hermes’ compliment. Hermes chuckled, noticing. 

“You’ll hear the river before we reach it, Lethe sings softly.” He mused. Tiresias hummed.

“I never thought to ask what the rivers sounded like.” A smile danced across their face.

Hermes squeezed his hand gently. “They each have their own voice. Acheron groans. Styx hisses. Lethe hums. You’ll like her song. It's a melody I always find comfort in. She sings a different song for everyone.”

“What does she sing to you, if I may ask?” Tiresias looked towards the fallen messenger.

“You may, darling. She sings to me the song of my family. I hear a different voice every time I visit, whoever I need to hear, she sings. Most often, it’s my mother.” Hermes’ voice was wistful, full of fondness. Tiresias gently squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, Hermes, for sharing.”

“Anytime, darling. Are you ready?” Tiresias nodded, more confident with Hermes by his side.

They stepped forward together. Tiresias’s staff tapped the ground cautiously, but he leaned subtly toward Hermes as they walked. With every step, he felt the cave receding behind them, the unknown growing closer.

When the stone gave slightly beneath their feet, Hermes murmured, “Here’s the dip. Just a small one. Then we’ll start going downhill.”

Tiresias slowed, but didn’t stop. He cautiously stepped forward, his foot catching on a small stone. Unbalanced, they tipped forward, fear gripping their heart. They let go of their staff, palms facing forward, prepared to meet the cold, hard ground, when two warm hands gently caught them.

Tiresias froze, heart hammering against his ribs. Hermes' arms held firm around his middle, steady and warm.

“It’s alright,” Hermes whispered, his breath brushing the back of Tiresias’s neck. “I’ve got you.” 

The prophet clung instinctively to the arm around him. He hadn’t realized how fast their heart was racing until he felt Hermes' pulse against his back.

A shudder wracked through the prophet and he turned, seeking Hermes’ comfort.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” The former god soothed, wrapping his arms around the shaking prophet. They stayed still a moment longer, Tiresias catching their breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see the stone there. I would have said something.” Hermes apologized. Tiresias waved him off.

“I’m okay, Hermes. Just a little shaken. Thank you for catching me.” They murmured. 

“Of course, darling. Are you okay to continue?” He asked. Tiresias nodded.

“Yes. Just maybe a bit slower.”

“We’ll go at your pace,” Hermes promised. He quickly bent down, picking up the prophet’s staff.

When he moved to hand it back to its owner, Tiresias shook his head. 

“Do you mind if I hold your arm instead? It’s comforting to be closer to you.” He asked nervously.

“I do not mind at all, darling. I’m happy to help in any way, especially if it brings you comfort.” Hermes smiled.

“Thank you,” Tiresias said, letting out a soft breath.

Hermes led the two slowly down the slope, careful to follow the prophet’s pace, keeping a sharp eye out for any more rocks that might cause his friend trouble. They approached flatter land, the ground evening out again, and the prophet exhaled. 

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Hermes said.

“You flatter me.”

“Always,” Hermes grinned, brushing his thumb over Tiresias’s knuckles. “But not this time. I mean it.”

The sound of water reached them soon after. Tiresias’s head tilted slightly, listening.

“That’s Lethe,” Hermes said. “She’s just ahead.”

They walked the final stretch in silence. Hermes didn’t rush. He let Tiresias set the pace, let him feel the world shift around him. Let them be brave.

And when the banks of the Lethe spread out before them, soft and silver in the gloom, Hermes finally let go, but only to ease Tiresias down to sit beside him in the grass.

“You did it,” he said with a smile.

Tiresias didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he turned his face toward Hermes.

“You’re still holding my staff.”

Hermes blinked, then laughed. “Ah. So I am. Shall I keep it, or is it terribly improper?”

Tiresias reached out and nudged him. “Don’t push your luck.”

The former god laughed, passing the staff back to Tiresias.

“Luck was never really my forte, my friend. I shall leave that to Lady Tyche instead.” He grinned. Tiresias smiled, reaching a hand over in Hermes’ direction. 

“Thank you for bringing me out here, Hermes,” he whispered. Hermes gently took their hand.

“Of course, my dear.” Tiresias’s heart leaped again at the nickname. “Now, listen to the waters. Lady Lethe is singing.” Hermes bid. Tiresias turned his attention to the song of the river.

They struggled for a moment to understand what Hermes meant earlier, about hearing a voice. Then it hit him. It wasn’t a voice, but it wasn’t *not* a voice either. The voices of his children filled his heart. He gasped quietly, which was met by a gentle squeeze of Hermes’ hand. The prophet didn’t respond, causing the god to gently pull them closer, laying their head on his chest.

“Oh, Hermes,” they breathed, “it’s my kids.” Hermes smiled. The prophet always loved talking about their kids. He gently placed a kiss on the top of Tiresias’s head and turned his own attention to the song of the river. He closed his eyes, expecting to hear his mother’s voice calling to him, but Lethe sang a different song today.

The melody shifted. It was still soft, still grounded, but it didn’t hold the same warmth that his mother’s song held. This was a different warmth. 

It was light and playful, brilliant and piercing. Each note rang with sharp clarity, like the string of a lyre plucked.

Hermes' eyes flew open. His breath hitched.

That voice.

“Apollo,” he breathed.

Beside him, Tiresias straightened slightly, his grip tightening instinctively. “Hermes?”

Hermes didn’t answer at first. His heart was beating too quickly. He sat up, wings flicking anxiously, the grass rustling beneath him. The Lethe’s melody wrapped around him like a net, too familiar and too strange all at once. The melody picked up, seeming to whirl around him.

Was it a warning?
What was he trying to say?
Was something happening?

“Hermes, it’s alright. Take a breath.” Tiresias’s voice cut through the fog of Hermes’ thoughts. He blinked, and the melody faded away. Tiresias’s hands were on his shoulders, unseeing eyes meeting his own. He let out a breath.

“I was expecting my mother,” he said at last. “That’s who she usually sings to me.”

Tiresias said nothing. They waited, giving the messenger time.

“But this time,” Hermes swallowed. “It was Apollo who sang to me.”

“Your brother,” Tiresias said gently.

“My brother,” Hermes echoed, the word bitter on his tongue. “His voice,” he paused, grasping for the words. “He wasn’t angry. It was urgent. Like he was calling for me.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. “The river never lies, Tiresias. It doesn’t show what you want to hear. It shows what your soul is reaching for. And right now, it’s him.”

Tiresias reached out and brushed his fingers against Hermes' arm, grounding him. “Maybe it means he’s thinking of you, too. Or maybe something is happening.”

Hermes turned toward him, eyes sharp and wide. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the Lethe steady behind them. Tiresias placed a steadying hand on Hermes' chest, just above his heart.

“You’re not alone,” he said. “Whatever this means, whatever it brings, you’re not alone.”

Hermes didn’t answer right away. But he leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against Tiresias’s.

“I know,” he whispered. “That’s what scares me most. Because I don’t want to lose that again.”

“You won’t,” the prophet reassured. “You’ll always – and I mean always – have me.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Hermes kept his voice soft, scared to disrupt the moment. Tiresias smiled.

“You showed kindness to a soul that thought itself undeserving of such treatment. You brought warmth and joy without expecting anything in return.” They whispered.

Hermes was silent for a moment, finding the right words.

“My dear prophet. My Tiresias,” he began, voice hushed yet full of adoration. “How could I not show such a wonderful being the kindness he deserves?” The air seemed to still in anticipation, knowing what both hearts longed to say, but knowing neither would be brave enough to say it.

“Hermes,” Tiresias whispered, hands raising to cup the messenger’s face.

“Hermes,” he whispered again, softer, saying the god’s name like a prayer. Hermes’ hands rose to cup the prophet’s face.

Hermes leaned in, eyes scanning the prophet’s face, searching for some kind of sign that they wanted this too.

“Tiresias,” he began. “Can I —” 

Thunder crashed through the Underworld, rattling the very stone beneath them. Hermes flinched, wings flaring as if instinctively preparing to flee. He knew that thunder, that anger. It scared him, even though he was safe in a different realm.

“Zeus,” he said, their moment shattered. “Something happened. He’s angry.” The Lethe’s song changed, softer, timid.

“Hermes?” Tiresias asked, their voice still soft.

“I think,” Hermes said, “Apollo just did something stupid. Something that angered the God King.”

Notes:

What was Hermes gonna ask? Maybe you'll see in the next chapter...

Hope you enjoyed! And, as always, take care of yourselves. Drink water, eat food, and take your meds if you have them!

Love you all!
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 8

Summary:

Their first fight...if you can even call it that. Tensions lead to some important confessions.

Enjoy :)

“Angered the God King?” Tiresias repeated.

“That’s what Lethe was trying to warn me about,” Hermes fretted. He stood, looking upwards. Past the roof of the underworld, past the mortal sky, to where Olympus would lie. His wings flapped anxiously, trying to raise him, to bring him to Olympus, to protect his brother.

“Hermes!” Tiresias called, feeling around for his staff or his friend. His fingers closed around the soft wood of his staff, and they tried to pull themself up. The ground was too soft, the staff couldn’t get a good hold, and it slipped out from under him. They collapsed to the ground, fortunately, a much softer fall than the one earlier would have been.

“Hermes!” They shouted again, desperate to get the worried man’s attention. Fear raced through him as he struggled to get up. Each attempt resulted in their staff slipping and him falling again. Still, Hermes didn’t respond. His thoughts swarmed with worry and fear for what may be happening.

“HERMES!” Tiresias shouted, fear fueling his cry. His hand reached out, searching through the air to find the messenger. His voice echoed overtop the worry raging in Hermes’ mind. Hermes looked over his shoulder and saw the prophet frantically reaching out. Guilt washed through him, and he dropped to his knees, reaching out and grabbing the prophet’s hands.

As soon as the fallen god’s hands met the prophet’s, they latched on, holding tightly. Tears streamed from their eyes. Hermes tried to pull one of his hands free to wipe them away, but he tightened his grip.

“Please don’t leave me,” they cried. 

“No, no, no, my dear. I would never leave you. I’m so sorry.” He bid, gently pulling Tiresias closer. The prophet came willingly. Hermes quickly folded the blind man into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to upset you. Worry got the better of me, but it was stupid. I would be powerless to do anything, even if I could fly to get there. But I’m not powerless here, with you. I’m so sorry, my dear Tiresias. My darling. So terribly sorry.” He whispered into the prophet’s hair, pressing a kiss there. 

“I couldn’t…You weren’t there.” Tiresias struggled to form a sentence. Hermes gently ran a hand through their long hair.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not leaving. I promise.” He said. It was quiet for a moment. Tiresias considered what he wanted to say.

“Can we go home?” He asked. “I’ve had enough adventure for today.”

“Of course, darling. Of course we can.” Hermes slowly stood, helping Tiresias as well, who seemed hesitant.

“Would you trust me enough to let me carry you back?” Hermes asked. “The path is uneven, and I promised not to let any harm befall you…” He trailed off. “I’ve done a lousy job of that, though, haven’t I?” he muttered.

“Oh, Hermes. I’m not upset with you. I understand your worry. I was just scared. I will be fine walking.” Tiresias responded. Hermes looked at the prophet. 

Tiresias had his staff clutched in both hands, knuckles almost white. Fear painted their face, and they seemed hesitant to take a step. Hermes sighed.

“I trust you’d be fine, but, humor me, would you?” He held a hand out. Tiresias seemed to consider a moment, hesitant to accept, then nodded.

“That would be appreciated, Hermes,” he whispered. Relief washed through Hermes, and he quickly, yet gently, scooped the prophet into his arms. Tiresias wrapped their arms around Hermes’ neck, careful not to hit the messenger with his staff. He rested his head against Hermes’ shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured. Hermes hummed, and the prophet could feel the vibration in the fallen god’s chest.

“I’m going to start moving, okay?” He asked. Tiresias nodded.

Hermes adjusted his grip slightly, cradling Tiresias close as he took his first step. The river’s hum faded behind them, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the soft crunch of grass beneath Hermes’ feet. The air around them was cool, laced with the scent of damp stone and old earth.

They didn’t speak for a while. There was no need. Tiresias’s breathing was slow and steady against his collarbone, and Hermes let its rhythm guide his pace. 

“Is the path smooth?” Tiresias asked after a while, voice quiet, a trace of fear evident.

“For now,” Hermes was quick to reassure. “If it gets rough, I’ll slow down.”

A pause.

“You’re warm,” the prophet mused, a faint smile in their voice.

Hermes chuckled softly, his breath stirring their hair. “You say that as if it were a surprise.”

“I just,” he smiled, “I didn’t expect to feel so safe. Even now.”

Hermes didn’t have a response and instead just held the prophet a little tighter and kept walking.

Up ahead, the mouth of the cave came into view, its silhouette familiar in the muted light. Home, for now.

“We’re almost there,” he said softly.

“I know,” Tiresias whispered. “I can feel it.”

Careful of the divot, Hermes stepped through the mouth of the cave, the air inside cooler and still, familiar. He crossed the room and carefully set Tiresias down on the couch. He didn’t let go until he was sure the prophet was comfortably settled. Then he sat down next to him.

Tiresias kept one hand lightly on Hermes' arm even after he was seated, reluctant to break the connection.

“Thank you,” they whispered softly.

“You don’t have to thank me every time,” Hermes replied, brushing a few strands of hair from the prophet’s face. “I’d do anything for you, my dear. I’d carry you to Mount Olympus and back if you asked it of me.”

A small smile tugged at Tiresias’s lips, and Hermes smiled back. The silence between them settled like a soft blanket. Both souls found their minds drifting back to the moment by the river.

I was going to kiss him. Hermes thought.

Was he going to kiss me? Tiresias wondered.

Hermes shifted closer subconsciously. Tiresias leaned into him without hesitation, and the messenger let his eyes drift shut, drawing strength from the closeness. Relaxing in the moment.

But it didn’t last.

The quiet began to feel too quiet. The memory of thunder, sharp and unrelenting, cracked through Hermes’ mind. His shoulders tensed.

Tiresias felt the shift instantly. “Hermes?”

Hermes opened his eyes, staring beyond the walls of the cave, as if he could see Olympus. “It’s nothing.” Tiresias didn’t fall for it. He stayed silent, and the messenger relented.

“I can’t stop thinking about that thunder.”

He stood, slowly pacing a short line along the edge of the cave, wings twitching with unease.

“Something happened. I know that sound. That wasn’t just Olympus stirring; that was Zeus furious.”

Tiresias’s expression dimmed. “You think it was Apollo.” His voice was flat.

“I know it was,” Hermes replied, voice low, brittle. “Lethe’s melody was the warning. I could feel the urgency in her song. And then that sound.” He paused, raking a hand through his hair. “I need to know what happened.”

“You need to rest,” Tiresias said gently, hoping to ease the god back onto the couch where they could care for him.

“I need to help,” Hermes snapped, though the words weren’t meant for Tiresias. They hung in the cave like cold mist.

Tiresias stood slowly, steadying himself with his staff. “Hermes,” they said again, calm but firm. “You’re not there anymore. You don’t owe them anything. You no longer carry the sky on your shoulders.”

Hermes turned away. “Then why does it still feel like it’s crushing me?” His wings fluttered, desperately trying to propel him to the sky, to the palace that lay beyond. Tiresias heard the flutter and sighed in annoyance.

“Hermes, please, stop straining your poor wings,” He tried to soothe.

“You don’t understand, Tiresias. I have to go help. Apollo is my brother, he’s family. If he’s in trouble, I…” He trailed off.

“Where was he when you needed help, Hermes? Where was he when you were banished?” 

“That’s unfair, Tiresias. He couldn’t do anything. No one could. Zeus ordered them to do nothing. I can do something. I can go find him. He probably crashed near where I did. I can go –,” Tiresias cut him off.

“You can’t leave. You promised you wouldn’t leave me. If you go to the mortal realm, I can’t go with you.” He pleaded.

“I’ll be back as soon as I find him.” His sentence was once again accompanied by wings trying to fly him away. “I just have to make sure he’s alright.”

“Hermes, please.”

“No, Tiresias. I have to try. He’s my brother. What if he needs me?” Hermes cried.

“I NEED YOU!” Tiresias broke. The cave was quiet for a moment before Hermes spoke, his voice soft but low.

“What need could you possibly have for me? I’m a fallen god. Cast out by Zeus himself. Unwanted and unneeded by my own father. By all of Olympus.”

“Why do I need you?” Tiresias asked softly, shocked by the fallen god’s harsh words. “Oh, Hermes. I can't stand the idea of not having you here. My heart aches at the very thought of it." 

Deep down, Hermes knew what the prophet was saying. His heart longed to respond, to say what they both needed to hear, but he pushed the feelings aside.

"Tiresias," he began.

"No." The prophet's voice was sharp. "I will not let you ignore this, Hermes. You said it yourself earlier. You would be powerless to help if you were there." They shouted. “Besides, Hermes, you don’t even know if something happened.” Hermes practically snarled, wings flaring.

"Something had to have happened, Tiresias. You felt the thunder, too. But I'm here, unable to do anything about it." Hermes shouts back. His hands flew into the air. "But you’re right, I'm helpless wherever I go. Unable to do anything but worry. I'm not needed anywhere!" Tiresias was quick to cut him off.

 "You're needed here, Hermes." They said, voice firm.

"Why?" The god shouts back.

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" Tiresias shouts, heart aching. 

Notes:

You know, I felt nice and decided to post a third chapter this week since I've got enough drafted. But then I realized leaving you with this as the chapter end may be a bit evil. Oh well. The next chapter will be worth it.

See you next week! And, as always, take care of yourselves. Drink water, eat food, and take your meds if you have them!

Love you all! <3
Kari (pen name)

PLEASE READ: So far, chapters have been around 1,000 words. I'm tempted to make them longer, but this may end up affecting publishing later on. I'd probably end up making them around 2-3,000 words average, some longer, some shorter. Would you guys like longer, more detailed chapters? Or do you like the shorter ones that I've been posting now?

Chapter 9

Summary:

Hope you're ready for the continuation of last chapter...

Nobody spoke. The cave was quiet, save for their heavy breathing. Tiresias awaited the messenger’s response nervously.

"You do?" Hermes asked quietly, stepping closer.

Tiresias sighed. “My darling, Hermes. Of course I do. How could you not see it?”

He reached out, brushing gentle fingers against Hermes' wrist. The former god immediately guided their hands up, melting into the touch as Tiresias cupped his face.

“You may have annoyed me at first with your incessant chatter. But I found myself growing fond of your stories, as dramatic as they are, and I found myself missing them when you were away. Missing your voice. Missing you. I learned the sound of your footsteps so I could tell when you approached. I can always feel your presence in a room before you speak. I can’t stop smiling every time you laugh, simply because you’re laughing. Because you’re here. My Hermes.”

Hermes stared, stunned into silence. His mind raced, struggling to process the words that fell so effortlessly from Tiresias's lips.

Love.

Tiresias loved him. He loved him not for his titles or his speed, not for the way his wings once carried him across the skies. He loved him for the way he laughed, the way he filled the room with stories, the way he simply was. It was a love unburdened by divinity or expectation. 

His heart thudded painfully in his chest, his wings giving the slightest, trembling flutter. Olympus had been grand, but love had always come with conditions. With expectations and obligations. He was the messenger, the trickster, a son of Zeus, there was always a purpose, a use for him. But here, in this quiet cave, Tiresias loved him for him, not for what he could do or the errands he once ran. Just Hermes. 

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His hands moved instinctively, covering Tiresias’s where they rested on his cheeks. He swallowed, voice cracking with disbelief. “I…you love me?” he whispered, voice trembling.

Tiresias’s hands squeezed gently. “I do,” they murmured, voice tender and unyielding. “I love you, Hermes. In every way there is to love.”

Hermes stared, his vision blurring with tears. It was too much. Too beautiful. He didn’t deserve this; not after everything, not after being cast out and clipped. But Tiresias’s hands were so warm, so real. He had kissed his scars, held his shaking hands, and now, now he was saying that he loved him.

The prophet slowly led him back to the couch, settling down next to him, their hands never breaking contact.

“I fell in love with you the first time you brought me something just because you thought it might make me smile. You didn’t expect anything in return. You never do. You just care. I never thought that a blind, dead prophet like myself would attract the attention of a divine being as wonderful as you, but there you were. You visited because you wanted to know me, and you stayed because you care.”

Tiresias’s voice softened to a whisper.

“And every time I’ve reached for you, you’ve been there. Like you were meant to be.” He felt a few tears fall against his hand.

Hermes’ voice was ragged, shaking. “Tiresias, my dear, my prophet, my heart,” Hermes stammered. “Oh, my dear. I. you.” He stopped talking briefly and leaned closer, hands moving to cup the prophet’s face. “Please, can I?”

“Yes,” Tiresias whispered before he could finish, his voice trembling but sure.

Hermes let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Slowly, reverently, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the prophet’s.

It was gentle. So gentle it nearly broke Tiresias’s heart. His lips were soft and uncertain, the kiss more question than answer at first. But Tiresias answered with quiet certainty, tilting his face upward and deepening the connection with the small movement.

Hermes’ hands still held the prophet’s cheeks, thumbs trembling against his skin. He kissed them like someone afraid to wake from a dream, as though Tiresias might vanish the moment he pulled away. Tiresias, steady as always, grounded him. One hand cupping Hermes' face, the other curling lightly into the fabric of his robes.       

The world stilled. No thunder. No Olympus. Just the warmth of their shared breath and the steady rhythm of their two heartbeats.

When they finally parted, it was only by an inch. Hermes pressed his forehead to Tiresias’s, his eyes fluttering shut. His voice was soft, broken with wonder.

“You kissed me back.” A hint of teasing crept into the messenger’s voice.

Tiresias smiled, eyes wet. “Of course I did. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Hermes smiled and leaned back in, claiming the prophet’s mouth again, more sure this time.

Tiresias responded just as eagerly, hands pulling Hermes closer to him, accidentally pulling too hard. Unprepared for Tiresias’s force, Hermes tipped forward, pinning the prophet to the couch below him.

The two broke apart, laughing. Hermes gazed down at Tiresias’s flushed face.

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, not wanting to make the prophet uncomfortable. He knew the reputation Olympians had – primarily his father – when it came to consent, and he was determined not to fit said reputation.

“If you don’t start kissing me again soon, I will send you to your uncle’s house for the night,” Tiresias threatened, hands winding in Hermes’ hair, tugging softly.

“Alright, alright,” Hermes chuckled, leaning in again. “You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable at all, though, right?” Tiresias’s face softened.

“Of course, my darling. The same goes for you. Now shut up and kiss me.” Hermes smiled.

“Your wish is my command.”

He brought their mouths back together, more forcefully this time. A promise echoing. One that they both felt. Hermes gently nipped at Tiresias’s lower lip, eliciting a gasp from his partner. Hermes smiled into the kiss.

“Tease,” Tiresias accused, but gasped again when their partner repeated the action.

It felt more urgent now, like they were making up for all the unsaid words. Tiresias responded by gripping Hermes' shoulders, pulling him even closer. Their breaths mingled, shaky but eager, as they moved together in a rhythm that felt as though their hearts had always known it.

Hermes' hand slid to the back of Tiresias’s neck, tilting his head just slightly, and their lips parted, tongues meeting with a soft, heated urgency. Tiresias let out a soft moan, the sound almost lost against Hermes' mouth. The messenger’s wings fluttered against Tiresias’s fingers, and the prophet traced a finger over the base. Hermes shuddered, a shaky gasp escaping his lips.

Tiresias froze, pulling back, afraid he had caused pain. But, unbeknownst to him, the fallen god’s eyes were dark with need, his lips swollen and slightly parted, as though he could scarcely believe this was real.

Tiresias was still hesitant, hands hovering near their partner’s head. Hermes sensed this and pressed a soft kiss to Tiresias’s nose. 

“You’re okay, my love. They just get a bit sensitive.” He explained.

“Sensitive,” Tiresias echoed. His fingers found Hermes’ face again, brushing along his jawline, before pulling him in again, deeper this time. His hands wandered, exploring, trying to memorize every inch of the god above him.

Hermes answered with equal fervor, his hands sliding down to the prophet’s waist, pulling him closer, as if to fuse their bodies together. Their hearts pounded against each other’s chest, and in that moment, the world outside seemed to fall away.

Eventually, they broke apart, chests heaving, drawing in as much air as they could. Hermes brought his head down to rest against Tiresias’s.

“My love,” he whispered.

“My Hermes,” they whispered back. The smile etched on their face faltered momentarily. Hermes frowned at this.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, sitting up and pulling the prophet into his lap, holding him close.

“Please don’t leave,” Tiresias whispered. Hermes sighed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I was foolish earlier, I’m sorry.” He gently kissed Tiresias’s forehead.

“You’ll stay then?” The prophet asked.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

Notes:

Sorry for leaving you guys on that ending last chapter, but I hope this was worth the wait.

See you guys in the next chapter! And, as always, take care of yourselves. Drink water, eat food, and take your meds if you have them!

Love you all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 10

Summary:

Hermes has a nightmare, softness and care ensues.

The evening flew by, soft and tender, kisses lovingly exchanged quietly between the two. They had moved to Tiresias’s bed at some point and now lay there, content, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

“I think I started loving you,” Hermes began, “or understanding my feelings for you, when I visited after a long day of guiding souls, children’s souls, and I was heartbroken.”

Tiresias remembered the day. Hermes had been so broken, so quiet.

“You didn’t ask, you didn’t press, you just let me exist with you.” Hermes traced patterns on the prophet’s back, holding them close. “You’ve never once pressured me into being a god while I’m with you. You just let me be Hermes.” Tiresias pressed a kiss to his partner’s chin.

“My love,” they whispered. Hermes glanced down, a grin spreading across his face. 

“I love you,” he breathed. Tiresias’s eyes widened slightly, silver and white meeting sky blue, and they smiled.

“Say it again,” he asked. Hermes obliged. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses pressed gently across the prophet’s face, leaving Tiresias giggling softly. Their hands reached up and cradled the fallen god’s face.

“My Divine Hermes,” they smiled. Hermes’ face faltered.

“Your titles are not what makes me call you ‘divine,’ my love. It is your soul. The one that greets mine with warmth, without expectation. That is what makes you divine.” Tiresias whispers.

“Oh, Tiresias. You could give Apollo a run for his money with your poetry.” Hermes responds, tears welling in his eyes.

“I speak the truth, Hermes. You know this.” They say. Hermes responds with a gentle kiss, one that Tiresias returns.

They lay in each other’s arms, gently fading into the realm of Hypnos, into the realm of sleep.

Hermes was flying. At first, he didn’t believe it. He glanced behind him at his ankles, the tiny wings flapping, propelling him through the sky.

The sky was blue and endless, wind against his face, hair streaming behind him. He laughed and cried in joy, because he had freedom. He watched as the sky parted for him; his sky.

Somewhere below, Olympus gleamed. He dove, rolling and flipping, skimming over rooftops, wings blazing gold in the sun.

He was so very happy. He spotted the other Olympians out by the palace. He waved, slowly landing to greet them.

As soon as his feet touched the ground of Olympus, they all turned sharply at once to face him. Their eyes were hollow. They spoke as one, bodies seeming to meld together to form the God King, now towering before him. Hermes froze, cowering slightly.

“You overstepped,” Zeus boomed. Hermes tried to say something, but his voice didn’t work. He watched in horror as the god’s form began to morph and change, shrinking, taking the form of someone new. 

“You should have known better.” Apollo now stood before him. Disdain was written on his face.

The sky darkened as thunder rolled nearby. The ground beneath him started to melt away.

His wings seized.

“Why should I want help from a powerless god who was cast out of Olympus? You can’t do anything!” His brother shouted. Hermes stood, frozen with fear, as the ground around him slowly vanished.

“Apollo,” he tried to whisper, but again, his voice stayed silent. His brother vanished and then reappeared directly in front of him.

“You don’t belong here,” The voices of all Olympus spoke, and Apollo’s hands reached out, pushing Hermes off the remaining ground. He fell.

Hermes tried to flap his wings, but they wouldn’t respond.

He was falling.

Faster and faster.

The wind rushed in his ears as Olympus shrank above him. His breath caught; this time, nothing cradled him, nothing slowed his descent. 

He hit the ground.

With a strangled gasp, Hermes jolted upright. He was alive.

The cave was dark. Beside him, Tiresias slept soundly, their soft breaths filling the room.

Hermes gulped down air, trying to slow his heart. His wings, he could feel them moving again, fluttered anxiously, flaring, defending him as best they could.

He sat there, hunched over, Apollo’s words running through his head.

Why should I want help from a powerless god who was cast out of Olympus?

He shuddered.

“Apollo doesn’t think that. He cares.” Hermes murmured to himself, trying to convince himself. The sheets shifted beside him.

“Hermes?” Tiresias’s voice echoed softly in the dark as the prophet felt for him.

“Shhh, darling,” Hermes whispered, gently reaching behind him to meet the prophet’s hand. “I’m right here.”

“Where’d you go?” Tiresias gently tugged on the fallen god’s hand, trying to pull him back down.

“Silly prophet, I’m here. I just said that.” Hermes leaned down and kissed Tiresias’s forehead. They took the opportunity to wrap their arms around him and gently pull him down.

“You’re warm. Come back.” He murmured, snuggling his head back into Hermes’ chest. Hermes sighed, happily running his fingers through Tiresias’s hair, who quickly fell back asleep.

Hermes shut his eyes, hoping to fall into a dreamless sleep.

“You will be the message!” Zeus’s face appeared, and Hermes startled back awake. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again.

It’s just a dream. He told himself. I’m not there anymore.

He was plummeting down. Zeus’s laughter echoed from above. His eyes shot open, and he scrambled away, accidentally waking Tiresias.

“No,” he whispered softly to himself. “No, no, no, NO!” He whispered, louder now, his hands running through the soft wings until they reached the clipped ends. He raked his nails over the offending feathers.

“Hermes?” Tiresias whispered.

“Stupid, useless things,” Hermes cried. His hands grew more forceful, snagging on a feather every now and then. Tiresias sat up, gently feeling for the distraught god.

“Hermes,” he whispered softly. His hand found Hermes’ knee, and Tiresias pulled himself over. They carefully lifted their hands until they met Hermes’ face. The messenger stilled.

“My love, what’s wrong?” Tiresias asked. Hermes didn’t answer. Tiresias’s hands continued moving, finding the other’s hands tangled in his wings.

Tiresias’s fingers gently untangled Hermes' from the tattered feathers, just as he did when the god first arrived after falling, their thumb brushing over a sore patch where a few had been tugged loose.

“Shhh,” they murmured, voice low, soothing. “Let me help you.”

Hermes trembled beneath their touch, wings twitching and shivering, caught between the instinct to flee and the desperate need to be held.

Tiresias slowly guided him to turn around, knees drawn up, and moved to kneel behind him. His hands moved with reverence, fingertips trailing down the curve of the wing joints, soothing the muscles there, coaxing the wings to relax.

One by one, he began to smooth the ruffled feathers, straightening them with infinite care.

“Your wings are not useless,” he whispered, “They are still yours. Still beautiful. Still part of you.”

Hermes let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“Even clipped, they carried you to me.”

That broke something in him. A quiet sob caught in his throat as he folded forward, hands clutching at his knees, letting Tiresias work.

The silence between them wasn’t empty; it pulsed with care. Every feather gently aligned, every whisper of touch said what words couldn’t.

When Tiresias reached the clipped ends, they paused.

“I hate what was done to you,” he said softly, “but even now, you are still the god who could fly.”

Hermes turned his face slightly, catching the edge of their voice. “You make me feel like I could.”

Tiresias smiled, brushing a kiss against each wing. “You will again. But even if you never leave the ground, you are still my Hermes.”

Hermes sat still for a long moment, shoulders trembling, breath catching as Tiresias’s words settled over him like a blanket. Tiresias didn’t stop until both wings were in pristine condition.

“Would you like help with the set on your ankles?” They whispered. Hermes was quiet.

Then, without warning, he twisted around and pulled Tiresias into his arms, desperate, clinging, burying his face into their neck like he might disappear if he let go.

Tiresias didn’t hesitate. His arms came up around him, holding him as tightly as he needed, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other holding his middle tightly. Their fingers continued the gentle motion, soothing, grounding, as Hermes shuddered in their embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I didn’t mean–”

“Shhh,” Tiresias murmured. “You don’t have to be sorry for hurting. Not with me. I’m glad you woke me. I would hate for you to be suffering alone, my love.”

Hermes held them tighter.

“I keep dreaming that I’m falling. And no one’s there to catch me.”

Tiresias didn’t speak at first. He just rocked him slightly, their touch like a lullaby against his bruised soul.

“Then let me be the one who holds you when you land,” they said at last, voice soft as the air around them. “You don’t need to fly to be free.”

Hermes choked on a breath, then nodded against their shoulder. Slowly, the tremors began to ease.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in their bed, the only sound the quiet rustle of feathers and the steady, patient rhythm of love.

The morning came quietly, slipping into the cave on soft feet. The darkness of night faded into the soft gloom of day in the realm, gently encompassing the two figures still lying tangled together, a fallen god and a prophet, limbs clinging to the other as if they might disappear.

Hermes didn’t remember falling asleep again, but he must have. He stirred first, not moving much, just enough to notice the gentle weight of Tiresias’s arm draped across his chest, the sound of slow, even breaths at his shoulder. The nightmare had passed. This. This was real.

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to Tiresias’s temple. The prophet slowly stirred, waking up.

“Good morning, darling,” Hermes whispered.

“Good morning, my love,” Tiresias whispered. Tiresias rose slowly, much to Hermes’ dismay.

“Surely you’re not getting up?” Hermes asked, sulking like a child.

“As much as I wish I could lie in bed all day with you, I will have a visitor today. I must be ready for them. If I turn them away, it would mean serious trouble.” Tiresias said. Hermes sighed.

“Fine. Do you want me to leave? I can go find something to do.” He said, glancing around. Maybe he could go get some new flowers for Tiresias.

Tiresias leaned down and pressed a kiss to pouting lips.

“No, my love. You do not have to go anywhere. However, I can’t have you in the room while I tell the prophecy.” Hermes nodded.

“What if I get you some new flowers?” He asked. Tiresias hesitated.

“You’d go to the mortal realm for them, yes?” They asked. 

“Yes. Not for a while, though. Just long enough to get some flowers and be out of the way for your visitor.” He promised, rising from the bed. He reached out and hugged the prophet from behind.

“You’re free to do what you want, Hermes. Just please, be careful.” He paused, hesitant to continue. “Please, come back to me. Don’t leave me alone.” He whispered. Hermes gasped at the idea.

“Of course I wouldn’t, my dear prophet. I could never leave you. You mean the world to me.” Hermes assured. “I won’t be gone longer than the day.” He swore.

“Thank you, Hermes.” Tiresias smiled. 

“Anything, darling,” He said before claiming the prophet’s mouth. When he pulled away, he asked, “Any particular flowers you’d like?” Tiresias hummed in contemplation.

“Daffodils, if you can find any. They have such a lovely smell.” Hermes smiled and bowed.

“As you wish, my love.” He kissed Tiresias once more before bidding farewell.

Tiresias listened to the echoes of his footsteps fade before preparing for the prophecy he was to give. They slipped their usual blindfold back on over their eyes and peered into time, unraveling the answers to give.

Notes:

I know I know. I already posted today. But I may have just finished chapter 40 and realized just how much I have written in comparison to what I have posted. So, I'll likely be posting a bit more this week than usual, just to get "caught up."

Once we get closer to catching up with where I'm writing, I'll settle into more of a schedule for updates. But, until then, enjoy Plenty of 'Clipped!'

As always, take care of yourselves. Drink water, eat food, and take your meds if you have them!

Love you all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 11

Summary:

Tiresias gets a visitor...and a little overwhelmed.

Tiresias waited for the prince to arrive. Footsteps approached the cave, not a moment too early or too late.

A tall figure entered: broad-shouldered, draped in crimson and gold, each step deliberate and self-important. His silver circlet marked him as the prince Tiresias was expecting.

Their voice was low and calm. “You did not come for pleasantries, Prince Agetes.”

“No,” he said. “I’ve come for the truth. And I expect you to give it to me.”

Tiresias inclined their head slightly. “Ask.”

Agetes stepped forward. “My father is dying. My brother circles like a vulture waiting for the throne, and the council whispers behind doors. I need to know, do I act now, or do I wait?”

Tiresias closed their eyes and took a deep breath. Then responded:

“One crown, two heads.
Blood before breath.
The throne will outlive both.
Choose: legacy or survival.”

Silence. The prince’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

“What does that mean? That I’ll die? That my brother will?”

Tiresias stayed silent. 

“I didn’t come here for riddles,” Agetes’s voice rose. “I came for guidance. A path forward.”

“The truth is not always a comfort,” Tiresias said quietly. “I can only speak what’s given. I am not permitted to tell you–”

“You speak doom like it’s air,” the prince snapped, interrupting the prophet. “How many lives have twisted around your cryptic words? How many kings broken?”

Tiresias remained still. “Truth bows to no one, my lord.”

Agetes stared at him, breathing hard. “You say truth. I say rot.”

He turned sharply.

“May the gods have mercy on those who still come crawling to you.”

He left. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Tiresias stood alone.

He didn’t move for a long moment. Then, slowly, their fingers found the edge of the table. They gripped it. Tight.

His breath trembled.

He didn’t cry. They just bent forward slightly, shoulders curling inward like they could fold themselves small enough to disappear. His face was unreadable, but his whole body sagged, pained by the fact that his words were never good enough. 

Then – footsteps. 

Hermes.

He stepped into the cave with a small bouquet of assorted flowers in his hand and a soft expression on his face.

“Tiresias?”

They straightened too quickly, turning to the god with a smile that was too forced.

“You’re back,” they said, voice too even.

Hermes crossed the space slowly. He reached out, fingertips grazing theirs.

“Yeah,” he said gently. “I promised I would be.”

Tiresias didn’t answer right away. Hermes gently pressed the bouquet into their hands. Tiresias smiled softly, feeling the soft petals.

“Thank you, my love. I’m sure they’re absolutely beautiful.” He whispered.

“I heard what that man said to you. Is this what you often deal with?” He asked, gently cupping the prophet’s face. Tiresias leaned into Hermes’ warm hands and sighed.

“I’m not here to speak comfort and soft words, Hermes. The truth is a hard matter to deal with, it is rarely kind and gentle if people seek it from me.” They sighed, setting the flowers down.

Hermes didn’t answer right away. He simply stepped closer, wrapping his arms gently around Tiresias’s waist.

“You don’t have to be kind all of the time,” he murmured. “You just have to be human.”

Tiresias let out a soft, shaky breath. “I’m not,” they whispered. “Not anymore.”

Hermes’ brow furrowed. He leaned his forehead against theirs. 

“You are,” he said. “I know because I’ve seen you grieve. I’ve seen you laugh. I’ve felt your hands tremble.”

Tiresias’s shoulders stiffened, but Hermes didn’t pull away. He only held him closer, voice soft.

“You don’t have to carry it like this. Not with me here. You told me not to hide my pain from you, now I ask the same from you. Let it out. Please.”

A silence stretched. Tiresias’s breath caught.

Then, “I’m tired,” he said. It came out quiet, raw. “I’m so tired, Hermes. Of speaking into the dark. Of people twisting what I say and blaming me for their pain. Of being feared. Of being right.”

Hermes reached up and undid the knot of Tiresias’s blindfold, letting the cloth fall away.

“There is nothing to be feared in my eyes. You are a kind soul. Your scars only show strength. They are not something to be afraid of.” Hermes murmured.

“Then why are people disgusted by them?” The prophet’s voice was small.

“Because they lack true vision,” Hermes answered, arms tightened around them.

Tiresias pressed his face into his shoulder, and at last, their voice cracked.

“I try to stay resigned, to not let their words affect me, to not feel it. But it stays with me. Every scream, every plea, every name they curse me with when I don’t – when I can’t–” his voice broke on that word, “give them the answer they want.”

He gently stroked their back. “You don’t have to pretend you have no emotions. Not with me.”

Tiresias’s fingers curled into his robes, knuckles white. His breath shuddered.

Then, quietly, like a dam breaking in silence, Tiresias began to cry.

No sobs, no wails. Just quiet tears, slipping free as their shoulders trembled and their hands clutched the one person who still stayed.

Hermes said nothing. He simply held them like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because it was.

Time passed slowly in the hush of the cave. Tiresias’s tears quieted, though the weight in his chest hadn’t fully lifted. Still, he stayed wrapped in Hermes' arms, grounding himself in the warmth of his partner.

Hermes didn’t rush him. He just rested his chin lightly against Tiresias’s head, one hand smoothing slow circles over their back. The other cradled the back of their head with a tenderness that made Tiresias’s heart melt.

Eventually, Hermes shifted just enough to kiss their temple. “Let’s get you off your feet,” he murmured.

Tiresias nodded, voice too hoarse for words. Hermes guided him to sit beside the small hearth, lighting a small fire. He helped them out of their heavier outer robe, folding it neatly aside, and settled close, keeping one arm around him, their sides pressed together.

“I picked these for you,” Hermes said quietly, grabbing the small bouquet from the table nearby. Daffodils, violets, tiny white starflowers. “They reminded me of you. Bright and stubborn and impossible to ignore.”

Tiresias gave a soft laugh, and it was real this time.

“They’re beautiful,” he said. “You always bring life with you.” He softly smelled the flowers, letting their scents soothe his racing mind.

After a long stretch of quiet, Hermes shifted beside them. “May I?” he asked softly, brushing his fingers through the long white curtain of Tiresias’s hair, which had fallen over one shoulder.

Tiresias gave a small nod, lips lifting faintly. “If you must.”

Hermes grinned. “Oh, I must. It’s far too pretty not to.”

He gathered the snow-white strands with reverence, running his fingers through them slowly to smooth out any tangles. The hair was soft as silk, catching the firelight like threads of starlight. Hermes took his time, hands gentle and sure as he began to braid.

“I used to do this for my sisters,” he murmured. “But none of them had hair like this. Aphrodite’s is probably closest, but yours is even prettier and softer than hers.” He dropped his voice, “But don’t tell her I said that.” He whispered.

Tiresias chuckled under his breath. “Flatterer.”

“I only speak the truth,” Hermes said, mimicking their earlier tone with a fond smile.

Once the braid was secure, Hermes plucked a few of the flowers he’d picked, soft violet, pale daffodil, white starflower, and began to weave them into the folds of hair. He didn’t rush, letting each bloom sit just right, his fingers lingering with care.

When he finished, he leaned close and kissed the top of Tiresias’s head.

“There. A beautiful braid for my beautiful prophet.” He smiled, admiring his work.

Tiresias reached up, touching the braid lightly. His smile trembled, but it stayed.

“It’s beautiful,” they whispered.

“So are you,” Hermes replied without hesitation.

Tiresias leaned into him, letting his eyes close again. “You’re relentless,” they said, but there was warmth behind the words.

Hermes wrapped his arms around them, “I know,” he replied cheerfully. “And yet you haven’t banished me. Curious, that.”

Tiresias let out a hum of amusement, their head resting on Hermes’ shoulder. “You’re very difficult to banish.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

The fire crackled softly. Outside, the gloom of the Underworld darkened into night, but in the heart of the cave, the world felt light and safe.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Tiresias let themselves relax. Not as a prophet, or a vessel, or a bearer of grim truths. Just as a person. Just as someone held.

And Hermes, no longer winged or golden or divine, leaned his head gently against theirs and smiled.

“I love you,” he said, like it was the easiest truth in the world.

Tiresias closed their eyes and whispered, “I love you, too.”

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed reading this one! I'm pretty excited for the next few chapters. I will be posting those pretty soon actually, maybe even later today if I think of it, but who knows.

As always, take care of yourself! Eat, drink water, and take your meds if you have to.

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 12

Summary:

Just a lovely day out for our two lovers :)

Notes:

Fyi: This Chapter is a small time skip. Until now, Hermes' banishment happened about 5 days prior. This chapter brings us to day 12 of his banishment. It says that in the opening line, but I wanted to make sure it was clear.

Enjoy! :)

It had been twelve mornings since Hermes first arrived in this cave. There still were rough moments for him, but there were fewer and fewer with each passing day. Each morning had been warm, intact, and unhurried. Much unlike the restless, rushed mornings of his day as a messenger, where each precious second wasted only furthered his work for the day.

But here, mornings had been different. Instead of waking to divine orders, he woke to the soft rhythm of Tiresias's breath beside him. 

The two had gone for a walk to visit Cerberus the other day and accidentally nicked the poor dog. While they had been able to bandage the small wound, Tiresias insisted they make a disinfecting ointment as well.

They had rummaged through Tiresias’s storage of dried herbs, gifts from Hermes over the years at the prophet’s request, hoping to find the right ingredients. 

Now, with a blanket still wrapped loosely around his shoulders, Hermes sat cross-legged at their table, absently sorting dried leaves into little piles. His fingers moved faster than his mind.

“You’re putting the sleep leaf in the pile for the disinfectant,” Tiresias murmured without turning from their work. “Unless you’re trying to knock Cerberus out for a week, I suggest you use the sage instead.”

Hermes snorted, flicked a leaf toward him, and corrected the pile. “Maybe I am. He keeps sniffing me like I’m a chew toy.”

“He likes you,” Tiresias said, unbothered. “Or he likes the way you smell.”

“Comforting.”

But there was no sting to the words, just warmth, a familiar thread of teasing in the quiet.

Visitors came and went from their cave, seeking Tiresias’s visions. Hermes found himself missing Olympus less and less.

“You know, I’m beginning to grow comfortable with this whole living like a mortal thing. Maybe Zeus will never take me back. I’ll be able to stay here forever.” He mused. Tiresias paused, turning away from the heated oil.

“Tiresias?” Hermes asked, noticing him turn.

“I hadn’t considered that you’d have to leave once Zeus forgives you,” he said. Hermes shrugged, passing the pile of sage to the prophet, who carefully added it to the oil.

“Yeah, but I’ll still come back. I may not be able to be here every second, but rest assured, I will not leave you. Nothing could keep me away from you.” He said. Tiresias smiled.

“Promise?” They asked. Hermes stood up and walked over.

“I swear on my life as an immortal, I will never leave you,” he swore, leaning down and sealing the promise with a kiss. Tiresias melted under his touch, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Hermes,” they whispered. 

“Shhh, I’m trying to kiss you,” the fallen god complained.

“Yes, and that’s lovely, but,” Tiresias interjected between kisses.

“But nothing, darling,” Hermes said.

“The oil is going to overheat and we’ll have to restart,” Tiresias explained. Hermes backed off with a groan.

“Fine. But this,” he motioned between them, “this isn’t over.” A dark glint flashed through his eyes. Tiresias grinned, blushing slightly, much to the messenger’s delight.

“I’ll hold you to it, my love.” They turned back to the salve, pulling the leaves out.

Hermes smiled, turning back to the piles of leaves, sorting them back into their places.

Tiresias hummed softly to themself as they collected the small amount of liquid into a jar to take to Cerberus.

Later that afternoon, they made their way down the winding path toward the Underworld’s edge, where Cerberus was resting in the warm light filtering through the gloom. The great beast perked up at the sound of their approach, tail thudding against the stone.

“Hey, big guy,” Hermes greeted, holding out the jar of salve. “Ready for your spa treatment?”

Cerberus let out a low, contented rumble and flopped over, exposing the small nick along his middle shoulder. One of his heads leaned in to sniff Hermes' hair again.

“He definitely likes how you smell,” Tiresias said, grinning.

“Not helpful,” Hermes muttered, though he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice.

Tiresias gently applied the ointment while Cerberus melted into the floor like an oversized house pet, two heads nuzzling at Hermes' arms while the third let Tiresias work. Once the salve was applied and rebandaged to be safe, Cerberus curled up with a contented sigh, trapping both visitors in a loose circle of warm fur and tail.

Tiresias leaned back against one broad side of the creature, tilting his head toward Hermes. “We could head back.”

Hermes yawned. “Or we could just... not.”

Tiresias laughed softly, settling in beside him. “Alright. Just for a while.”

With his shoulder pressed to Tiresias’s and Cerberus’s heartbeat steady beneath them, Hermes let his eyes drift shut. For the first time in what felt like eons, he slept without dreams of falling, or wings breaking, or voices raised in fury. Instead, he dreamed of simpler things, of laughter on a hill and of Tiresias’s fingers threading through his hair while stars shimmered overhead.

When he woke, his cheeks were wet.

Tiresias stirred beside him. “Hermes?”

Hermes blinked and let out a quiet breath. “Nothing’s wrong. They’re tears of happiness.”

Tiresias didn’t ask more. He simply reached for his hand and held it, thumb brushing lightly across his knuckles.

They stayed like that, tucked into the warmth of Cerberus, the sound of soft breathing and the distant hiss of Styx accompanying them.

Eventually, Cerberus gave a great huff and rolled onto his side, giving the pair just enough space to leave.

Tiresias stood first and offered Hermes a hand up. Hermes took it, brushing the last of his tears away as he rose.

The walk home was quiet, their footsteps soft against the stone. The air had cooled a little, making Hermes grateful for the prophet’s robes once again. He hadn’t worn his tunic since he fell; it just didn’t feel right.

“You know,” Hermes said at last, voice low and thoughtful, “I used to be scared of Cerberus.”

Tiresias turned his head, surprised. “Really?”

Hermes laughed. “When I first started doing delivery runs down here, he’d growl every time I got too close. I thought he’d eat me whole one day.”

“He probably would have, if you hadn’t brought him bones every single visit,” Tiresias replied. “You bribed your way into his heart.”

“True,” Hermes grinned. “You can win over just about anyone with a snack. But now…” He glanced back toward the spot where Cerberus had curled up again. “Now I think he’s kind of adorable.”

Tiresias smiled at him, warm and quiet. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Hermes bumped his shoulder playfully into theirs. “Are you flirting with me, prophet?”

“Maybe,” Tiresias replied, completely unfazed. “Is it working?”

Hermes only laughed, lacing their fingers together as they continued the walk home.

“Oh, my darling prophet, it worked,” he whispered, leaning close to Tiresias’s ear, his breath curling around the shell, sending tingles through the prophet. Tiresias started walking a little faster. 

“Don’t we have to pick up our activities from earlier?” They asked, innocence in their voice. Hermes flashed a smile.

“Oh yes, we do, my prophet, yes we do.”

Notes:

I absolutely loved writing this chapter. Such a soft and happy adventure for Hermes and Tiresias. Hope you all enjoyed as well!

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 13

Summary:

Hermes has another nightmare and goes for a walk to clear his mind.

Notes:

IMPORTANT:

Hey everyone. So, I haven't been putting trigger warnings on any chapters so far as this has been a generally dark-ish story. However, nothing has happened too bad so far. However, I'm going to put one out for this chapter.

This chapter has a small scene that can be perceived as suicidal actions and/or attempts. It is not what happens, what happens is an accident and someone falls. However, if this may be triggering, please only read on with care.

Please be safe and enjoy the chapter at your own pace.
<3

The two spent the rest of the day tangled in each other’s bodies. Mapping out every inch of skin before falling asleep, curled safely in each others' arms.

Hermes dreamed of sunlight.

At first, it was golden and warm, like the gentle morning light that used to stream through Olympus’s high windows. He stood in a marble courtyard, barefoot, wind tugging at his hair. A familiar melody drifted toward him. Gentle, plucked strings, weaving melodies through the air like silk.

Apollo’s lyre.

Hermes turned, heart swelling. There he was, Apollo, sitting on a low step, bathed in radiant light, the lyre cradled in his arms. He smiled, bright and familiar. He played for Hermes, just like he used to.

“You remember this one?” Apollo asked, eyes sparkling.

Hermes nodded, stepping closer. “You wrote it for me.”

Apollo’s smile widened. “Then come. Play with me.”

Hermes reached out, hands trembling with joy. His fingers brushed the strings, notes coming back to him, then everything changed.

The golden light turned harsh and white-hot. The lyre flared beneath his hands, the strings no longer hummed; they hissed, searing through his skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Hermes screamed, tried to pull away, but the instrument clung to him like a living thing.

“You shouldn’t touch what isn’t yours,” Apollo said, voice flat, eyes cold now.

Hermes looked up in panic, but more gods had arrived, Zeus, Athena, Hera, all watching from the shadows, their eyes full of judgment.

“You don’t belong here,” they said in unison.

Hermes fell backward, dropping the lyre onto his ankles by accident, his wings flaring in agony. Flames licked the feathers.

Burning pain raced through him.

He opened his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Tiresias had rolled in his sleep, now facing away from the fearful god. 

Hermes shakily rose, climbing out of bed. He slipped his robes back on and left the bedroom. His thoughts raced, and he desperately needed to quiet them.

When he had nightmares on Olympus, he sought comfort from his family. His heart longed to wake Tiresias and find comfort in their arms, but,

“I’ve already bothered them enough. Aren’t I supposed to be healing? Getting better? That’s what Tiresias keeps saying.” He whispered to himself.

The sky always soothed him, so he began to walk. He left the cave, finding a ledge nearby overlooking the rivers and the realm of the dead below. 

The wind in the Underworld was different. Hermes had always noticed this when flying between realms.

It wasn’t real wind, not like the breezes Hermes used to ride high above the mortal world, but it moved all the same. A slow, ever-present current that hummed through the gloomy realm, stirring his robes and whispering through the hollow places in his heart.

Though they weren’t the winds of Aeolus, he still longed to feel the air move through his feathers as he flew.

Tiresias was still peacefully sleeping inside while Hermes tilted his face upward, eyes fluttering shut.

His wings flexed once, twice, the instinct still there. The ache to rise. To move.

To be what he used to be.

“What if I glide down? It’s not the same, but it may feel close enough to soothe this ache.” He thought aloud.

His heart screamed not to do it. He knew he shouldn’t, but what if he was to prove to Zeus that he wasn’t useless? Would his father welcome him back?

He shook his head.

“I should go back to bed. Tiresias wouldn’t want me to try,” he reasoned.

You’ll never be welcomed back if you can’t fly. Prove to us that you can. Come home, Hermes. Zeus’s voice rang in his head, soft and gentle.

“But, my wings. I can’t fly.” He said, confused.

Don’t you want to come home, Hermes? Your brother misses you.

Yes, please come home, brother. Please come home. I miss you. Apollo’s voice joined this time.

“But I can’t,” Hermes cried.

Fine. Then stay forever. Their voices began to fade.

“No, WAIT!” Hermes called, scrambling up. His wings began flapping, and he raced toward the voices, jumping from the ledge, trusting his wings to fly him home.

They flapped and flapped, desperate and wild, beating as much power into holding him as they could. But, no matter how hard they tried, they were still clipped. No new feathers had grown in, none would until Zeus allowed it. Hermes fell.

Only this time, it wasn’t a nightmare; he was awake.

He didn’t try to stop it, couldn’t even glide down. He just closed his eyes, preparing for the hard impact of the ground. He could hear Zeus’s voice laughing at him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Why must you hurt me, Father?” He whispered, words swallowed by the wind.

He crashed into the ground.

The sound of impact echoed faintly through the lower reaches of the cave, dull, distant, like a body hitting the earth.

Tiresias jolted awake.

For a moment, he simply listened. The cave was too quiet. No familiar breath beside him, no rustling wings in the dark. The cold emptiness beside him sent a chill down his spine.

“Hermes?” he called softly. No answer.

Tiresias sat up fully, grabbed his robe and staff, and moved quickly through the bedroom. His hands brushed the table, still set with the dried herbs they’d sorted the day before. No sign of Hermes. The air was cold.

Their heart twisted.

Something was wrong.

He followed the faint tug in his chest, the pull that always led him to Hermes. Step by step, he found the ledge where the god so often lingered in his thoughts. But it was empty.

Then they felt it.

A disturbance in the air. A ripple of fear.

Carefully, staff tapping out in front of him, Tiresias followed the slope leading to the cliff's base. Each step was filled with dread. When his foot finally touched level ground, he heard it, a ragged, shallow breath. A body shifting weakly.

“Hermes.” Tiresias dropped his staff and knelt.

His hands found the god in the dark, limbs curled inward, body trembling. The feathers at his ankles were bent at unnatural angles, his robes torn, blood warm beneath his fingers.

“Oh, my love,” Tiresias whispered. “What have you done?”

Hermes flinched at the touch. “I-I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I thought— maybe I could—”

Tiresias hushed him quickly. “No, no explanations now. Just breathe. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

He ran his hands gently along Hermes' limbs, checking for breaks, murmuring reassurances under his breath. Hermes whimpered when his wings were touched, and Tiresias pulled their hands back immediately.

“Alright. We won’t touch those. Just hold onto me, love.”

He shifted, coaxing Hermes up just enough to loop his arms around his neck. With strength born from worry, Tiresias carried the god back up the slope, one step at a time, staff forgotten, whispering his name like a prayer.

When they reached the cave again, he laid Hermes down on the softest place he could find; their bed, still warm from earlier.

“Stay with me, Hermes. You’re safe. You’re home,” he murmured, sitting beside him and brushing the matted curls from his forehead.

Hermes blinked up at him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, eyes glassy. “I just wanted to fly again.”

Tiresias swallowed the lump in their throat and leaned down, pressing their foreheads together.

“Oh, my sweet Hermes,” he said. “You don’t need wings to be everything I love.”

The god remained silent, processing what had happened.

Tiresias pulled the blanket over Hermes' trembling form, then stood only to gather a bowl of water, cloths, their small store of salves, and a new set of robes. He moved with calm purpose, but his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Hermes tried to sit up when Tiresias returned, guilt written all over his face, but Tiresias placed a firm hand on his chest.

“Stay down,” they said gently.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like that,” Hermes whispered, blinking up at him. “It just hurts. All the time.”

“I know.” Tiresias dipped the cloth into the warm water and gently dabbed the dirt and blood from Hermes' face, where they could feel it. “But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not to me. Not to them.”

Hermes closed his eyes as Tiresias cleaned a scrape along his jaw, his breath hitching when the cloth passed over a tender spot. But Tiresias never rushed, never pressed harder than he had to.

“You’re not angry?” Hermes asked, voice fragile.

Tiresias paused. “Never at you. Only at the world that makes you feel like you have to break yourself to be worthy.”

Hermes turned his head from the touch, tears slipping quietly down his face.

“If I break enough, I can put the parts back where the gods want. So that they’ll want me again.” He whispered, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.

Tiresias gently turned the god’s head to meet his unseeing eyes.

“Hermes. Please do not change yourself to be worthy. You are perfect without change. I fell in love with you,” they said, placing their hand over his heart. “Not the version of you that Zeus wants. You.” He repeated.

“But I’m,”

Tiresias cut the messenger off, “Perfect.” They kissed Hermes’ forehead. “You are perfect, my love. And I will tell you that every day until you believe it. And until you do, I will believe it enough for you. I do not expect you to change your mind overnight, my dear. You’re healing. It’s not a fast process, nor does it always move forward. But I will be here, every step of the way. Because I love you, Hermes. God or not, wings or none, I love you.”

“I love you,” Hermes whispered. “I love you so much, Tiresias,” he said, the name a prayer in his tongue.

“And I, you. Don’t ever forget that.” Tiresias responded, tending to the rest of his scrapes.

Then, with the bowl set aside, Tiresias offered the new set of robes to Hermes.

“I tore your robes,” Hermes murmured softly.

“Unimportant. I have many more sets,” they said, helping Hermes slip out of the torn robes and into the fresh ones.

Once the god was settled in his clothes, they reached for Hermes’ ankles.

“May I?” he asked softly, fingers hovering near the ruined wings.

Hermes hesitated, then whispered yes.

Tiresias gently cradled one ankle, fingers brushing over it just enough to examine the twisted feathers. The clipped ends were raw where they had scraped against stone. A few bent shafts had nearly snapped.

“Poor things,” Tiresias whispered, voice catching. “Even clipped, they tried so hard to hold you.”

Hermes swallowed hard. “They remember what it felt like to fly.”

Tiresias pressed a kiss to the inside of his ankle. “They will again someday.”

He worked carefully, trimming away the bent and damaged feathers, smoothing what he could with oil-dipped fingers. They preened with soft, reverent touches; thumbs gliding gently along the shafts, coaxing out the pain with every pass.

Hermes didn’t speak. He simply watched, breath shaky, as the man who once spoke only riddles and fate now touched him like he was something sacred.

When the worst of the damage was tended, Tiresias lifted Hermes' foot to his lap and gently began to massage the tense muscles in his calf and arch.

“You’re so warm,” Hermes whispered. “Always so warm.”

Tiresias smiled. “That’s because you make me feel alive.”

When they were done, Tiresias folded Hermes into his arms and helped him sit up slowly, wrapping the blanket around both of them. Hermes sagged into his chest, exhausted.

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you,” he murmured. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be a burden,” Tiresias said firmly. “You are mine to care for, Hermes. Let me.”

Hermes blinked up at him, eyes wet again. “How did I ever earn you?”

Tiresias kissed the tears from his cheeks, then his nose, then finally his mouth, soft and lingering.

“You were simply yourself,” they whispered. “That was enough.”

Hermes exhaled, finally letting himself sink into the comfort he’d been craving.

Notes:

A bit of a whirlwind chapter, but honestly, one of my favorites to write. I think we all need a Tiresias to tell us we're perfect.

Anyways, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 14

Summary:

Hermes goes on a vacation to see his family.

The night passed quietly, Tiresias’s arms around the messenger, driving away any more nightmares waiting to plague him.

When morning arrived, Tiresias woke first. They were careful not to move too much, not wanting to wake Hermes, still curled in his embrace. They sighed, gently preening the wings atop his head. They weren’t in as rough shape as the lower ones had been last night.

“I wish you’d see the worth you still carry, my love,” they whispered to the sleeping god. Hermes shifted softly, waking up. He felt the fingers carefully preening his head wings. 

“You don’t have to do that, darling. You’ve done enough.” He said.

“Nonsense, I’m more than happy to help care for your wings,” he responded. Hermes smiled.

“If you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” Tiresias quickly finished the last of his work. “There you go. Good as new.” They said.

Hermes sat up, “A kiss to pay for your fine services,” he said, placing a kiss against the prophet’s lips.

As the two got up, Tiresias reached for his staff, fingers closing around empty air. They felt around for a moment, finding nothing.

“Hermes, love? Can you see my staff? It’s not here next to the bed where I always leave it.” He asked. Hermes turned, glancing around the room, seeing nothing.

“Umm, no, love. I don’t see it anywhere.” Panic rose in Tiresias, but they took a deep breath.

“Well, it can’t have gone far, right? Unless it’s magical and able to move on its own.” Hermes added. Tiresias laughed, panic dying away.

“No, it’s not enchanted. The only place I went last night was to find you…” They trailed off. “I left it at the bottom of the cliff.” He determined.

“Oh, would you like me to go run and grab it?” Hermes offered.

“If you wouldn’t mind, dear. I would go myself, but” Tiresias shrugged.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Hermes said, heading towards the exit.

“Thank you, love!” Tiresias called after him. 

Hermes wandered through the Underworld, making his way down the cliff edge to where Tiresias had found him. 

As Hermes picked his way carefully down the slope, the memory of falling remained fresh in his mind, cautioning his steps. The cool air tugged at his robes, and every so often, he glanced up toward the ledge where he’d jumped. From here, it looked so much higher. So much more reckless.

Gods, he thought. What was I trying to prove?

He reached the base of the cliff, eyes scanning the ground until he spotted the familiar glint of polished wood. Tiresias’s staff lay where it had fallen, half hidden by a dying shrub. Hermes bent down to retrieve it.

Then he saw, glinting in the gloomy Underworld light, a single feather, dull gold, torn and bent at the edge. It rested just beside a rough stone, caught gently in a curl of dead grass.

Hermes stared at it.

He knelt, slowly picking it up. It wasn’t much, one of the smaller ones from his wingtip, but it was unmistakably his. A piece of what had once lifted him skyward.

A piece of who he used to be.

The wind shifted softly, curling around him, gently disturbing the feather, and for the first time in a long time, Hermes didn’t reach for it.

“I used to think these made me powerful,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “That, without them, I was nothing.”

He ran his thumb along the broken shaft.

“But they were never what made me, me.”

He closed his eyes.

Every time he tried to claw his way back to Olympus, he ended up here, on the ground. Alone. In pain. And yet.

He looked up toward the path that led back to the cave. Back to Tiresias.

Tiresias, who had held him like he was whole. Who had whispered truths and kissed his scars.

“They never broke me,” Hermes said, still holding the feather. “But Zeus would have, if I’d let him.” And deep down, Hermes knew he would have let him. He would have continued to break himself, removing piece after piece of what made him, him.

He stood slowly, brushing off his robe. The wind picked up once more, and this time, Hermes let it gently pull the feather out of his hand. He watched it float away, drifting further and further until he could no longer see it. Then, with the staff in hand, Hermes turned his back to the cliffside. Turning his back on Olympus.

And started walking home.

Tiresias was sitting by the hearth when he heard the soft footsteps outside. He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t need to.

The rhythm was different. Slower. Calmer. Less burdened.

Hermes stepped inside, the air of the cave shifting with his arrival. Tiresias didn’t speak; they simply waited. There was no rush.

Hermes crossed the space and knelt beside him, placing the staff gently in Tiresias’s outstretched hand. Their fingers brushed, and in that single touch, Tiresias felt it.

Something had changed.

Not broken, released.

He smiled faintly, fingers curling around the familiar wood of his staff. Then his free hand reached out and gently brushed against Hermes' cheek, fingers trailing softly down to his collarbone.

No wounds. No tremble.

“You’re here,” Tiresias whispered.

Hermes leaned into the touch. “I am.”

Still, no explanations. None were needed.

Tiresias reached for Hermes' hand and guided him down beside him. They sat in silence for a while, the warmth of the fire dancing across their skin. Hermes rested his head on Tiresias’s shoulder. His breathing was slow. Grounded.

Tiresias smiled again, brushing his thumb across the back of Hermes' hand.

Yes, he thought. You’re finally coming home to yourself.

“I think I may visit Ithaca for a few days soon,” Hermes said after a moment.

“Hmm?” Tiresias said softly. 

“I’d love to go see how Odysseus is settling in. I haven’t seen him since he left Calypso’s island. I heard he messed up Poseidon, wish I could’ve seen that. But I haven’t heard what happened since he returned.” Hermes said.

“He’s your grandson, right?” Tiresias asked.

“Great-grandson, actually,” Hermes corrected.

“Ahhh. Why wouldn’t you go visit? That sounds lovely.” Tiresias said. Hermes paused a moment.

“Ithaca isn’t an easy place to get to without wings. And, while there is an exit from this realm to the island, it lies across Archeron and sits in the sky. I can’t get there without my wings, unfortunately.” He said. 

Tiresias thought for a moment. “Circe.”

“What about her?”

“She would be able to help. And there's an exit that leads to her island that you don’t have to fly to.” Tiresias said. 

Hermes groaned. “I really do hate asking her for help. She does love to torment me.” 

“In all fairness, love, you love to torment her too. Perhaps, the two of you can take a break from bothering one another to solve this.” Tiresias pointed out.

“I’ll try, but I make no promise about her,” Hermes pouted.

“Wonderful. When were you thinking of going?” 

Hermes shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just had the thought and wasn’t even sure if I should go or not.”

“I think you should. Why don’t you leave tomorrow morning? Before the cold hits the mortal realm. Go see your family and meet his. I’ll be busy anyways.” Tiresias offered. 

Hermes smiled, excited. “Tomorrow it is then.”

~~~

“Circe, please! Open the door! I swear I’m unarmed. No moly, no tricks. I only seek your aid!”

The fallen god found himself stuck outside the palace doors, the solid oak remaining firmly shut despite his attempts.

“I told you, Messenger God, leave. You are not wanted here.” Circe’s voice echoed from within. 

Hermes sighed. “Can you just hear me out? I’ll be out of your hair sooner.” 

“NO!” She shouted.

“It’s official Olympian business. I have a message.” He tried. 

Silence. Then footsteps approached the door.

It opened just slightly, enough for Circe’s face to peer through. “Very well then. I’m listening.” She said. 

He sighed. “Fine, I have no message.” 

The door started to close. “Wait, wait, wait! Please.” He shouted, and desperation filled his voice. 

Circe must have heard because the door stopped. “What do you want, Hermes?” She asked, her voice flat.

“I’m trying to go to Ithaca to visit Odysseus. I haven’t seen him since helping him off Calypso’s island.” He said.

“Why does that concern me, Messenger. Just fly there yourself.” She said. He internally cringed.

“Ahhh, well, slight problem with that, dear sorceress.” He spun in a flourish, bowing his head and showing the clipped wings to her. She gasped.

“Hermes, what happened?” She asked, opening the door and ushering him in.

“Zeus got angry with me. For helping Odysseus here, actually.” He told her.

“Maybe if you stopped giving people moly just to hurt me, you wouldn’t wind up in trouble,” she said pointedly.

“But, darling, you’re so fun to torment. It would be a shame to give up one of my favorite pastimes.” He flashed a wink at her, laughing. She rolled her eyes.

“What did you come here for, Hermes?” She asked again.

“I was hoping you could open a portal for me. To Ithaca.” He asked softly.

“Why should I help you, Hermes? All you do is come to my island to torment me.” She argued. He sighed.

“I know. I’ve been quite rude to you, haven’t I, Lady Circe?” She paused, glancing back at him.

“You’ve changed, Lord Hermes,” she murmured. He shrugged.

“It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted. Her features softened.

“I was honestly surprised Zeus hadn’t also ordered you to ignore me. He has all the gods doing that.” Surprise crossed her face.

“He did? You’ve been cast out of Olympus and are being unaided and ignored?” She sounded genuinely upset.

“Yep. I’ve been staying with Tiresias for the time being. They’ve been wonderful.” Hermes informed. Circe sighed.

“Very well, Hermes. I will help you.” He blinked in surprise.

“Really?” 

“Any chance to anger Zeus is a good day for me. He can’t punish me for helping you either, I supposedly have no clue about your punishment.” She winked and he grinned. He gave another dramatic bow.

“Why, thank you, Lady Enchantress,” he exclaimed. 

Within a few moments, an opening to Ithaca appeared, and Hermes stepped through, saying goodbye to Circe.

As the portal closed behind him, he turned away from the witch only to see a spear pointed directly at his face.

Hermes quickly threw his hands into the air, not wanting to anger the one with the weapon.

A young boy, around 20 years old, stood before him, brandishing the spear. 

“Who are you? What brings you to Ithaca? What do you want from my family?” The boy asked, tone biting. As Hermes studied the boy, he noted the resemblance to Odysseus. This must be the young prince Telemachus. He realized. 

Hermes bowed his head slightly, careful of the spear. “I’m just a friend, young prince. I bring no harm to you or your family.” He said calmly. 

“Telemachus, Telemachus. Calm down.” Odysseus’s voice called from behind them. Hermes glanced up and saw the king hurrying down towards the beach.

“Telemachus, this is Hermes. Lord Hermes. Remember, I told you about how he helped me with the witch?” Odysseus asked his son. Hermes, again, internally cringed at the title.

“He’s a nice one?” Telemachus asked warily.

“Yes. Very nice. Some may say I’m the nicest. As long as you don’t ask Apollo.” Hermes flashed a smile at the boy. Telemachus lowered his spear, still clearly wary of the stranger in his home. Hermes knelt in front of the boy.

“You have my word, Prince Telemachus of Ithaca. I will not harm you or your family while I’m here.” He bowed his head, clearly surprising both mortals. A deity bowing before them.

“Very well. I’m sorry to have greeted you so harshly, Lord Hermes. I hope you can forgive me.” 

“Water under the bridge, young prince. I admire your bravery. Your form is immaculate, by the way, I can see Lady Athena’s teachings have not gone to waste.” Telemachus smiled.

“You think? I practice every day.” 

“Oh, most definitely. You’ll have to pass my compliments to her next time you see her,” he said before turning to the king, pulling him into a hug.

“Odysseus, so good to see you again. Glad you finally made it home. I heard what you did to Poseidon. He had it coming, if you ask me. Someone’s needed to teach that fish a lesson.” He tapped Odysseus on the nose.

Odysseus chuckled, “Yes, well, I couldn’t have done it without all of your help. Thank you, Hermes. Seriously.” Hermes gave a dramatic bow.

“No need to thank me, friend. It’s all in a day's work.” He grinned. “Now, where is this Penelope you kept telling me about?”

Odysseus blushed and turned to the palace. “Of course, let me introduce you -” He was cut off by the door flying open. A strong, beautiful woman raced out.

“Telemachus!” She shouted, grabbing the spear from his hands. “That is no way to greet a guest in our home, especially a god.” She scolded.

“But, Mom!” The boy started, but she had turned to Hermes.

“Divine Hermes, please forgive my son’s insolence. He meant no harm. Our family has had a rough time these twenty years, and my boys seem to forget that we are mortal still.” She bowed her head, curtsying.

“Ahhh, please. None of that, my friends.” Hermes said with a laugh. “You are family after all. You have nothing to fear from me.” He smiled.

Odysseus laughed, “Please, Hermes, come inside.” The king turned to walk inside the palace, but paused when Hermes walked behind him. Not floated, not flew…walked. He shook it off. Hermes was a god after all. What he did was not Odysseus’s worry. Though the king silently noted, the robes are new. Less ‘godly’ and more ‘underworldly’ even. He shrugged. It wasn’t his place to ask questions.

Penelope ushered them inside, the scent of herbs and warm bread welcoming Hermes more than any golden throne on Olympus ever had. The palace may not be grand in the way the gods might consider, bearing the signs of wear and survival, but it was lived in, and that made all the difference.

In the dining hall, a meal had been laid out: roasted lamb, olives, figs, fresh bread, and wine. Hermes smiled.

“Please, sit,” Penelope offered.

Hermes took the invitation, settling into a seat beside Telemachus, who still cast him wary glances between bites. Odysseus sat across from him, easy and attentive, while Penelope sat at the head.

“So,” Penelope said, slicing a fig, “Lord Hermes, we’ve heard many stories. But now that we’ve got you in our dining hall, we’d love to know what’s true and what’s not?”

Hermes laughed softly, ignoring the title. “Well, I didn’t actually invent fire. That was a rather dramatic misunderstanding involving stolen torches and a bored afternoon.”

That got a laugh out of Telemachus, who began eagerly asking questions: “Is it true you turned into a crane to escape a titan?” “Did you really steal Apollo’s cattle?”

Hermes answered with charming skill, offering just enough truth to spark delight, never quite venturing into the darker things. He found joy in the stories. 

Odysseus watched, quietly warmed, as Telemachus smiled like he’d known Hermes his whole life. For a little while, the god was just a strange uncle at the dinner table, eccentric, maybe, but welcome.

After the plates had been cleared and the family turned in for the night, Hermes wandered into the courtyard, drawn by the quiet. The stars shimmered above Ithaca. The breeze off the sea curled through his robes.

Odysseus joined him after a while, steps quiet.

“You didn’t eat much,” the king observed.

“I’m used to smaller meals these days,” Hermes replied.

They stood in silence for a moment.

“I noticed,” Odysseus said eventually, voice low, “you didn’t fly in.”

Hermes didn’t answer right away.

“My wings were clipped,” he said finally.

Odysseus turned to him. “By Zeus?”

Hermes nodded. “And I’ve been cast out. No contact. No help. Not even recognition from the others.”

A long silence stretched. The sea whispered against the stone walls.

“I’m sorry,” Odysseus said. “This happened because of me. If I hadn’t—”

“No,” Hermes cut him off. “Don’t. I made my choice. I helped because I wanted to. Because I believed it was right. And I’d do it again, even knowing the cost.”

Odysseus looked at him, brow furrowed with guilt. “Still. You shouldn’t have paid that price.”

Hermes gave a sad smile. “Maybe not. But if it brought you home, if it brought this,” he gestured toward the quiet halls, the peace and love held within, “then I can live with it.”

A moment passed.

“I’m staying with Tiresias now, the prophet you met,” Hermes said, voice soft. “They’ve helped more than I can explain.”

“Then I’m glad,” Odysseus murmured. “Truly. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need,” 

They stood in silence again, two weathered souls beneath the stars.

“I’ve missed the stars,” Hermes began. Odysseus turned to him. “They don’t appear in the Underworld,” he explained. “I used to fly amongst them, imagining I could reach out and touch one.” He sighed, gazing upwards. “But no longer.”

“When I was trapped, on Calypso’s island,” Odysseus began gently. “I would watch the stars and tell them about my family, my friends, the people I lost, and the people I refused to lose. I imagined that someone was listening, my wife, my son, Athena, you.” He said. Hermes turned to him.

“You were the first god to show up and help without asking for anything in return. No repayment, no expectations. Just kindness.” Odysseus explained.

“Athena worried about you after your,” Hermes tried to find the right word, “separation.” He settled on, making a bit of a face. “She often asked me to keep an eye on you as I have more freedom to travel than the others do.” 

“I thought she hated me. I regretted our fight every day after.” He murmured.

“She fought for your release, you know. She was the one who went against Zeus.” Odysseus froze.

“For me?” He asked. Hermes nodded.

“I didn’t know,” Odysseus whispered. 

“You did good, Odysseus. Your house is whole again. Your son’s a fine warrior. And your wife–”

“Is still smarter than me?” Odysseus offered with a grin.

Hermes laughed. “Always has been.”

The two stood in silence once more, enjoying the sound of the sea.

After a while, Odysseus said softly, “You should stay the night. We’ve got a guest room that’s yours if you want it.”

Hermes hesitated. The sky above Ithaca was clear and full of stars, and the stone beneath his feet was solid. Real. He thought of the Underworld, of the hush and gloom, of the way Tiresias always curled around him in sleep, how they whispered shhh when nightmares pressed in.

“Are you sure?” he asked, glancing sideways.

“You are my family,” Odysseus said, firm but gentle. “We’d be honored to have you.”

So Hermes nodded.

Inside, the room was simple: stone walls softened by woven tapestries, a small bed with fresh linens, and a window that overlooked the sea. Someone had left a small oil lamp burning beside the bed.

Hermes stepped in slowly, murmuring a thanks to Odysseus as the door closed. The sheets were cool and crisp. The air smelled faintly of thyme and sea salt. He ran a hand along the edge of the bedframe, unsure why his chest felt tight.

He changed into a light tunic left for him and lay down, staring up at the wooden ceiling beams. The silence felt too quiet. The air, though warm, didn’t carry the familiar breath of Tiresias against his neck. The space beside him remained cold.

He tried closing his eyes. He tried to imagine Tiresias’s voice. The steady cadence of their breathing. The soft way his fingers stroked his wings to lull him back to sleep.

But his body wouldn’t relax. It was as if it had forgotten how to rest without them.

Down the hall, Penelope was extinguishing the last candle when Odysseus approached, quiet as always.

“He’s staying?” she asked.

Odysseus nodded. “Just for the night. Maybe longer.”

She tilted her head. “Is he alright?”

A pause.

“No,” Odysseus said softly. “He’s in trouble with the gods. I can’t say much, but it’s been hard.”

Penelope frowned. “Poor soul. He always struck me as the kind who hides his pain with a smile.”

Odysseus nodded. “He helped me when I was lost. Asked nothing in return. Maybe now he’s the one who needs help, and just doesn’t know how to ask.”

Penelope wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist. “Then let’s make sure he knows he’s welcome. For as long as he needs.”

Back in the quiet room, Hermes finally curled onto his side and pulled the blanket close. It smelled unfamiliar, earthy, and clean, but it wasn’t home. 

Still, he held onto one thought like a thread of light:

Tiresias will be there when I return.

And, with that, sleep finally came.

Notes:

I absolutely love writing Ithaca. These chapters are so much fun!

Anyways, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 15

Summary:

Just a little check in with Tiresias. He misses his Hermes.

The cave was quiet, there was no flutter of wings, no silly laughter, no heartbeat aside from their own. Tiresias sat cross-legged near the hearth, fingers idly tracing the grooves in his staff. He hadn’t moved much since Hermes had left. 

It was strange, the emptiness that followed. Tiresias had always been alone for so long, but now, it was different. It felt wrong without Hermes’ movement.

A shift in the air rippled through the cavern, cool and deliberate, power oozing from the very presence before them. Tiresias stood, hands curling tighter around his staff, before dropping into a bow.

“You’ve come again,” Tiresias said, voice steady. “It’s been a while.”

Soft footsteps approached, measured and unhurried. “I promised I would,” Hades replied, his voice even, echoing softly through the stone cavern.

Tiresias lifted his head. “I suppose you want to know how he’s doing?”

There was a pause. Hades did not rush his words. “I imagine you would tell me without me having to ask.”

Tiresias allowed himself a small smile. “I would.” He leaned back, head tilting slightly as though he could see through the gloom of the underworld to Hermes, safe in Ithaca. “He’s healing. Slowly. But he’s healing.”

Hades stepped closer. His presence was not like Hermes'; it was bright and warm and full of movement. Hades’s aura was still and powerful. “He is with you still?” The god asked.

“Yes,” Tiresias confirmed. “He’s gone to Ithaca for a few days to see his family.”

A soft hum of approval. “Odysseus’s island. Fitting.”

“Indeed.” Tiresias’s hands ran over his staff, grounding themself. “It’s good for him to be away for a little while. To remember there is more to the world than his punishment.” He hesitated, then added, “But I miss him already.”

Hades’s silence held something of understanding. “He has always been a restless soul,” the god murmured. “You ground him. That is not a small thing.”

“Coming from you, I’d take that as high praise,” Tiresias said.

Hades let out a soft breath that could have been amusement. “It is.” He paused, the stillness stretching out. “You’ve done well by him, prophet. I came to tell you that.”

Tiresias’s heart fluttered with surprise. “I-I only did what anyone would have done.”

Hades stepped closer, his power growing sharper, more defined. “No. You did more. You saw him when others turned away. Even I,” he paused. “Even I could not help him. But you did.”

Tiresias swallowed, the weight of the words settling on his shoulders. He felt pride bloom in his chest, unbidden and almost startling. He knew how much those words meant coming from not just anyone, but Hades, the god of the Underworld, the one who knew isolation and abandonment better than anyone. 

And yet, confusion bled through the pride. To him, what he had done for Hermes was natural. It was simply what was right. How could anyone not see him? How could anyone turn away? The idea baffled him. To him, it was not a requirement, it was a natural act to care for Hermes. It was simply love.

“He deserves it, you know. He deserves to be seen. Not just as a god, but as Hermes,” the prophet murmured.

Hades’s eyes softened. “I agree.” Then he added, “He is good for you, too, prophet. You have been leaving your cave more often.” Tiresias nodded.

“Hermes is insistent about exploring. I admit I was nervous the first time he asked me to leave, but it was enjoyable,” they said.

“I’m glad for that,” the king of the underworld said.

There was a moment of silence.

“May I ask you something?” Tiresias ventured, voice gentle.

“You may.” Hades’s reply was prompt, neither warm nor cold, simply patient.

“Why do you care so much? About Hermes and his situation, I mean.” The prophet asked carefully.

Hades was silent for a long moment, and Tiresias wondered if they had overstepped. But then, quietly, Hades spoke. “Because I have known what it is to be cast aside. To be made to watch while others thrive above.” His voice held no bitterness, only the weight of truth. “And I do not wish that for him.”

Tiresias nodded, absorbing the gravity of his words. “I will continue to watch over him. As long as he allows me to.”

“I know you will,” Hades replied. He stepped back, the coolness of the Underworld retreating with him. “And should you need me, prophet, you have but to call. I keep my promises.”

With that, the air lightened, and Tiresias was alone once more. He exhaled slowly, hands relaxing around his staff.

For once, Tiresias felt the weight of a promise intended to be kept.

Tiresias lingered by the hearth long after Hades had gone, his fingers once again tracing the grooves of his staff, the fire crackling softly in the background. His mind wandered back to Hermes. To the way his laughter filled the cave, bright and unrestrained. To the gentle flutter of his wings when he was restless. To the way he always seemed to bring life into the dark corners of the Underworld simply by being.

It was unsettling, the silence.

Tiresias rose, his hands running along the familiar stone walls as he made his way to the bed. He settled under the blankets, the coolness of the sheets a stark reminder that Hermes was not there to warm them. His hand instinctively reached out to the space beside him, fingers brushing against nothing but the cool linen.

For a moment, Tiresias just lay there, listening to the faint Underworld breeze outside. He tried to imagine Hermes' voice, the way he would tease him in the morning or hum some distant tune. But the silence pressed back, heavy.

“He’s alright,” Tiresias whispered into the dark, the words more for his own comfort than anything else. “He’s with his family. He’s happy. He’ll be fine for a few nights.”

The words settled like dust in the still air.

He turned onto his side, curling into the blankets. He had grown used to Hermes being there, warm and steady, a heartbeat beside his own. He hadn’t realized just how much he had come to rely on that presence until it was absent.

But Hermes would be back. He’d promised.

Tiresias squeezed his eyes shut, holding onto that promise with everything they had. Eventually, the weight of the day pulled him into sleep, dreams skimming just along the edge of consciousness – dreams of soft wings, bright laughter, and the faintest whisper of warmth beside him.

And for just a moment, in that space between waking and dreaming, Tiresias could almost feel Hermes there, curled against him, safe and whole.

Notes:

Okay, I am loving Hades in this story. Such a nice guy!

Anyways, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 16

Summary:

Hermes tries his hand at sparring again.

The morning light filtered softly through the window, casting delicate patterns on the stone floor. Hermes stirred, the unfamiliar bed beneath him a stark contrast to the warmth he was accustomed to. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, half expecting to feel the weight of Tiresias’s arm draped over his side, the steady rhythm of his breathing at his back.

But when he reached out, his hand met only the cool, empty linen. Reality settled in.

He sighed, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling beams. The room smelled like thyme and sea salt, not the slightly damp, comforting scent of Tiresias’s cave. The absence of his presence was notable, almost tangible.

He resisted the urge to sink into that feeling. Instead, he took a deep breath, grounding himself.

“It’s just a few days,” he murmured. “I’m still me. I’m alright.”

Slowly, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His bare feet touched the smooth stone floor, and he stayed there for a moment, just feeling the chill. A part of him wanted to curl back up, pretend it wasn’t morning, pretend he didn’t have to face the day alone.

But he couldn’t. Not anymore.

“I can do this,” he whispered. “I did it for centuries.”

He straightened his shoulders, shaking off the remnants of sleep. As much as he missed Tiresias, he wasn’t powerless without him. He didn’t need to be constantly protected or soothed.

For the first time in a long while, Hermes found himself remembering what it was like to wake alone and be alright with it. It was strange, that realization. 

Hermes made his way down the hall, following the scent of bread and fresh herbs. As he approached the dining room, he could hear Odysseus laughing softly and Penelope’s quieter tone, calm and steady.

When he entered, both turned to greet him. Odysseus smiled, raising a hand. “Good morning, Hermes. You sleep alright?”

Hermes nodded, though it wasn’t quite true. “As well as one can in a strange bed.”

Penelope smiled knowingly. “It takes some getting used to. Please, sit. You’re welcome here.”

Hermes took the offered seat, and Penelope set a plate of bread, cheese, and olives before him. He murmured his thanks, and for a moment, the room was quiet, the sound of breakfast being passed around filling the space.

Odysseus spoke up first, casually. “Telemachus has already left to train. He’s been working on his spear form since dawn.”

Hermes gave a small grin. “He’s dedicated. Athena should be proud.”

Penelope nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “He takes his role as protector seriously. Ever since Odysseus returned, he’s been determined to make sure no one can threaten us again.”

There was a flicker of guilt in Odysseus’s eyes, but he covered it with a bite of bread. Hermes, noticing the tension, tried to ease it. “It’s a good sign. Shows he’s learned from his father.”

Penelope’s gaze flickered toward Odysseus, calm and perceptive, then back to Hermes. “I imagine it must be nice, seeing him like this. You’ve watched over him for so long, haven’t you?”

Hermes blinked, a little surprised by her insight. “Yes, I suppose I have.”

Her eyes softened. “You were the first one to help him when he was stranded. You guided him back to us.” She paused, her gaze sharp, but her tone remained gentle. “It must be difficult, not having to watch over him like you used to.”

Hermes' hands stilled, bread halfway to his mouth. His smile faltered just a bit. “It’s different for sure. Feels almost empty in a way.” He wasn’t just talking about no longer watching over Odysseus, but about losing the ability to watch over anyone like that ever again.

Penelope exchanged a glance with Odysseus. She leaned in a little closer, her voice softer. “You didn’t fly here, did you?”

Hermes stiffened, fingers clenching slightly around the bread. He managed a chuckle, though it was thin. “I’m…taking a bit of a break from that.”

Her hand reached out, gently resting on his. “Hermes,” she said gently, “what happened?”

Hermes stared at her hand for a moment before his eyes flicked up to hers. There was no judgment there, only quiet understanding. The kind of understanding that came from living through things that left a mark.

“It’s nothing, really,” he tried, but Penelope didn’t move her hand. “I–Zeus–he…” Hermes took a deep breath. “He clipped my wings. Cast me out. I–I can’t return to Olympus.”

The words spilled out before he could stop them, raw and unguarded. His eyes dropped back to his plate, unable to meet theirs.

Penelope’s grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly. “I’m sorry, Hermes. I truly am. No one deserves to be cast out, especially by their own father.” Her voice was soft, sincere.

Odysseus, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his expression tight with empathy. “You’re welcome here for as long as you want. You know that, right?”

Hermes looked up, surprise flickering across his face. “I couldn’t,” he stopped and instead said, “thank you.”

Penelope’s eyes shimmered with understanding. “It must be difficult. To go from running the skies to,” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, “to feeling grounded.”

Hermes let out a shaky breath. “You could say that.” He tried for a smile, but it came out lopsided. “But I’m getting used to it.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” she said simply. “We’re here.”

Odysseus nodded. “Family takes care of each other. Even the gods.”

Hermes' eyes softened, the walls he’d built up cracking just a little. “I suppose I’ve always thought it was my job to take care of everyone else.” He swallowed, his voice going softer. “I didn’t expect anyone to do the same for me.”

Penelope’s smile was gentle, almost motherly. “Even the gods need rest, Hermes.”

Hermes managed a real smile this time, something warm unfurling in his chest. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Odysseus clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re family. Family is always welcome.”

Hermes nodded, feeling a warmth in his chest that wasn’t just from the tea. He didn’t know how long he’d stay in Ithaca, but for now, this was enough.

He wasn’t running. He wasn’t rushing. He was just existing.

And that, for the first time in a long while, felt like progress.

Breakfast finished in peace, soft conversation exchanged among the three until Penelope excused herself to return to her weaving.

Odysseus stood, stretching his shoulders. “You should join us at the training grounds,” he said, voice casual but warm. “We’d be honored to have you teach us anything.” 

Hermes glanced up, surprise and uncertainty flickering across his face. “I don’t know,” he began slowly, “I trained with speed and flight.” He glanced at the wings on his ankles, the clipped ends a harsh reminder. “I have neither ability anymore,” he finished. 

Odysseus gave him a soft smile. “But your skills are still there, trust me, friend.” 

When Hermes hesitated, gaze still fixed on his ankles, Odysseus added, “At least come watch. Telemachus would love to show you what he’s been working on.”

Hermes looked up sharply. Worry flashed in his eyes. “Odysseus, to join you would be to put myself on display and reveal my current state to many mortal eyes. I don’t want to become a spectacle to your soldiers in training.” Hermes said. His wings fluttered involuntarily, feathers brushing against his calves. “My inabilities are my own matter. They are not something to be shown to the mortal world like one of your plays.”

Odysseus’s face softened, understanding in his eyes. “My apologies, Hermes. I would never ask you to be on display. It’s just Telemachus and me today. The rest of the soldiers train tomorrow. My son just insists on practicing daily. You will be safe from prying eyes. I swear it.” Odysseus assured him.

Hermes considered a moment longer before nodding slowly. “If you insist.” 

Odysseus smiled, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come, then.”

The two left the palace grounds, the path winding toward the training fields. As they walked, the clang of metal against metal began to grow louder, ringing through the morning air. Hermes hesitated, wings shifting uneasily against his ankles, but he pressed forward.

When they reached the field, Hermes stopped in his tracks.

Telemachus danced across the field, sword swinging gracefully through the air as he practiced against his opponent. Someone Hermes thought he wouldn’t see again for a long while. Someone he hadn’t seen in a long while, either.

“Athena?” He breathed. The goddess’s face showed pure determination and focus as she moved with a practiced fluidity, each step deliberate, each swing of her blade confident. To Hermes’ surprise, Telemachus held his own, parrying and countering, his movements sharp but, Hermes noted, the boy was hesitant; moving half a second slower than the goddess.

Athena’s sword swept low, forcing Telemachus to jump back, feet shuffling against the dirt. But Athena seized the advantage and pressed forward with a sharp lunge. Telemachus barely deflected it, the force reverberating down his arm.

“You’re getting slower,” Athena chided, circling to the right, blade held steady. 

Telemachus grunted, adjusting his grip. “No, you’re just getting faster.”

“Perhaps.” Athena flashed him a grin before moving again, quicker this time. With a feint to the left, a flick of the wrist, and a sharp upward strike that caught Telemachus off guard, the prince’s sword flew from his hand, clattering to the ground a few paces away.

Telemachus stood there, breath heavy, eyes wide with surprise.

Athena lowered her sword, offering a hand. “Better,” she said, voice warm with approval. “You’ve been practicing.” Telemachus beamed.

“Every day,” he told her. Odysseus stepped forward, drawing the attention to himself and Hermes. Athena froze when she saw the messenger.

“Athena,” the former god murmured.

“I’m afraid I must be off,” she said, her voice hurried. Hermes saw her glance fearfully to the sky.

“Athena, wait. I’m sorry. Please, don’t stop your training on my account. I don’t want to be the cause of any trouble.” Hermes said, stopping the goddess from leaving.

Athena’s eyes darted once more to the sky, her jaw tightening with something like regret. She sheathed her sword with a quick, practiced movement.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her gaze dropping to the ground. “Zeus’s command was clear. I cannot,” she faltered, voice dropping, “I cannot be caught aiding or even speaking with you.”

Hermes' wings curled against his ankles, and his head wings drooped. He swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I understand, Thena.” He took a step back, wings quivering, betraying the sorrow he tried to hide. “I wouldn’t want to put you at risk. I know what that feels like.”

The goddess raised her head, something unreadable flickering across her eyes, regret, maybe, or perhaps sorrow. “I am sorry, Hermes,” she said softly. “I truly am.”

Hermes nodded, offering her a wave that was more of a dismissal than a goodbye. “Go on, then. Be safe, Thena. Tell,” his voice faltered. “Tell Apollo I’m okay. Tell him I miss him, but that I’ll be okay. Please?” He practically whispered the request.

She hesitated, like there was more she wanted to say, then nodded sharply. Her gaze lingered on him for just a breath longer before she vanished, a shimmer of silver light and the whisper of wind the only sign she had been there at all.

Hermes stared at the empty space for a moment, his hands falling to his sides. He felt the ache in his heart deepen, that familiar emptiness clawing at his chest. He took a deep breath, turning away from the empty space where she once stood, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. He really had been cut off. No one would speak to him. His eyes met Odysseus's, who watched him with a heavy, empathetic gaze.

“I didn’t realize it would be that severe,” Odysseus murmured, his voice low. “Even your family?”

Hermes managed a hollow laugh, brushing invisible dust from his robes. “Especially family.”

Telemachus watched, confused. “Why did she leave? Did I do something wrong?”

Odysseus placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. “No, Telemachus. It’s not your fault. The gods have rules and rivalries we don’t always understand.”

Hermes let out a long, slow breath. “It’s not you, Telemachus. It’s me.”

Telemachus frowned. “What do you mean?”

Odysseus caught Hermes' eye, and the fallen god gave a short, reluctant nod. “I helped your father when I wasn’t supposed to. Zeus wasn’t happy about it. As punishment, he clipped my wings and forbade the gods from aiding me. Athena was just following his orders.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. “That’s not fair.”

Hermes huffed out a bitter laugh. “No, it’s not. But what’s done is done. If this is the punishment Zeus has determined necessary, then so be it. I am not the one to question him. Not again.”

Odysseus glanced at the training field, then back at Hermes. “If you’d rather go back, I understand.”

Hermes hesitated, wings shifting restlessly. He didn’t want to leave. Not again. He had to stop running from the things that hurt.

“No,” he said finally, straightening his shoulders. “I’m staying. I’d like to watch Telemachus train, if that’s alright.”

A relieved smile broke across Telemachus’s face. “Of course! I want to show you what I’ve learned.”

Odysseus nodded approvingly. “You’re welcome to join in, if you’d like. No pressure.”

Hermes looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. Could he still fight without his speed? Without his wings?

He swallowed hard, not meeting Odysseus’s gaze. “Perhaps, later,” he murmured. Odysseus nodded in understanding. 

“He’s good,” Hermes observed, nodding at the young prince.

Odysseus smiled with pride. “He’s determined. A little too tense sometimes, but that’s youth.” Hermes chuckled.

Odysseus’s smile dropped then. “He’s scared. He won’t admit it, but he’s scared.” The king said.

“Of losing you again?” Hermes asked. Odysseus nodded.

“His life hasn’t been easy. My absence was hard on us all. He believes that if he trains hard enough, he can stop any god, goddess, or other threat that may come to our shores.” Odysseus’s voice held the weariness of his journey. Hermes nodded.

“He’s dropping his right shoulder,” Hermes pointed out, nodding towards the prince. “He’ll be off-balance if someone counters him.”

Odysseus raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to tell him that?”

Hermes hesitated, hands brushing against the edge of his robes. “I don’t know…”

“Nonsense,” Odysseus clapped him on the back. “You know more about battle and movement than either of us. Come on.”

Before Hermes could protest, Odysseus led him closer to where Telemachus was practicing. The young man glanced up, brows raised. “Lord Hermes?”

“Drop your right shoulder less,” Hermes called, voice carrying with a confidence that surprised even him. “When you swing upward – yes, like that – you’re off-balance. It leaves your left side exposed.”

Telemachus blinked, then nodded, adjusting his stance. He swung again, this time more evenly, weight distributed better.

“There you go,” Hermes encouraged. “Keep your feet lighter. Your left hand is stronger than your right. Don’t compensate with your shoulders. It’s a habit that’ll get you killed.”

Telemachus tried again, and this time his form was sharper, cleaner. He looked back at Hermes, eyes shining. “Like that?”

Hermes smiled, a real, genuine smile. “Exactly like that.”

Odysseus crossed his arms, watching the two with a soft grin. “You still got it,” he murmured. Hermes looked over, brow raised. “What?”

“That,” Odysseus motioned to Telemachus, who was now running through the drill again, visibly more confident. “That ability to see what’s wrong and fix it. You haven’t lost that.”

Hermes looked down, wings fluttering slightly. “Maybe not,” he admitted. “But it’s different. I’m different.”

Odysseus tilted his head. “Maybe. But different isn’t always a bad thing. It opens you up for new opportunities.”

Hermes glanced back at Telemachus, watching the prince move with newfound ease. He felt something stir in his chest, something warm, something familiar. “Maybe you’re right.”

Telemachus stopped after a moment, chest heaving from exertion, but his grin was bright. “Would you like to join us?” he asked, voice earnest. “I could use the extra eyes.”

Hermes smiled and nodded. 

“I’d be honored to watch you train, young prince.” Telemachus frowned.

“Oh.” His voice was soft. Hermes’ smile faltered.

“I’ve upset you,” he murmured. Telemachus quickly straightened, his frown disappearing.

“No! No, you haven’t, Lord Hermes. I would be honored to have your eyes and insight in whatever way you’d like.” Realization washed through Hermes.

He wants me to spar with him.

A glance at Odysseus confirmed his thoughts. He stiffened. Odysseus noticed the god’s hesitation.

“You are under no pressure to participate, friend,” he whispered. Hermes nodded.

“Come, Telemachus. Let’s show Hermes what you’ve learned.” Odysseus said, walking over to his son. 

The clanging of swords rang out across the training grounds as Telemachus and Odysseus circled each other, blades raised, eyes locked in concentration. Hermes watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, wings flicking absently against his calves.

Telemachus lunged, quick and sharp, but Odysseus parried with practiced ease, stepping aside and redirecting the blade with a flick of his wrist. Telemachus stumbled slightly, catching his balance just in time to block a counterstrike.

“Your footing!” Hermes called out, voice clear but gentle. “You’re leaning too far forward. Keep your weight centered.”

Telemachus adjusted, nodding in acknowledgment. He met Odysseus’s next strike with more stability, their blades scraping against one another, the prince’s posture more secure this time.

Odysseus raised a brow, casting a quick glance at Hermes. “You always did have an eye for the details.”

Hermes grinned, a flicker of old pride sparking in his chest. “Hard not to notice when he’s practically tripping over his own feet,” he teased.

Telemachus rolled his eyes but smiled, parrying another strike. His stance was more solid now, and his movements less frantic. He swung again, a bit too wide, and Odysseus easily stepped out of reach.

“Watch your elbows!” Hermes called, stepping a little closer. “You’re overextending. It makes your balance weaker and your reach shorter.”

Telemachus faltered, pulling back his swing to adjust. “Like this?” he asked, shifting his grip and realigning his stance.

Hermes tilted his head, appraising. “Better. But relax your shoulders. You’re stiff. It’s making you slow.”

The young man nodded, rolling his shoulders back and relaxing just a hair. He tried again, his movements smoother this time, more deliberate. Odysseus nodded approvingly, stepping back to reset his stance.

“Good,” Hermes said, voice warm. “Now keep that up and don’t let him bait you forward too easily. He’s trying to make you chase him.”

Telemachus’s eyes flicked toward Odysseus, who raised a brow.

Telemachus smiled. “Bring it on, old man,” he teased.

Odysseus lunged, but Telemachus held his ground, parrying with more confidence. Hermes watched closely, arms still crossed, his eyes catching the minute shifts in their weight, the flicker of movement just before a strike. He found himself stepping closer without realizing it, eyes narrowed with focus.

When Telemachus stumbled slightly on a backstep, Hermes couldn’t help himself. He moved forward, swift and purposeful, catching the young man’s elbow and adjusting it.

“Here,” he murmured, hands gentle but firm. “Your weight is all wrong. If you’re going to retreat, don’t lean back. It’ll throw you off balance. Stay grounded, like this.” He moved Telemachus’s arm back into place, pressing lightly on his shoulder to straighten his stance.

Telemachus blinked, startled, but didn’t resist. He followed Hermes' instructions, shifting his weight forward just enough to regain stability. “Like that?” he asked.

Hermes smiled, his hands still on Telemachus’s shoulders. “Exactly like that. You see? You’re harder to unsteady now.” He stepped back, nodding in approval. “Try it again.”

Odysseus, who had been watching with raised brows, stepped back into position. Telemachus readied his stance, more centered and controlled. They moved through the drill again, and this time, Telemachus held firm. His feet didn’t slip, and his movements were more deliberate.

Hermes found himself watching, analyzing, his hands itching to correct the smaller things: the grip, the angle of the blade, the twist of the torso. He didn’t realize how close he was standing until Telemachus looked back, grinning.

“That was better!” he said, pride gleaming in his eyes.

Hermes blinked, startled at his own proximity, but then he grinned back. “You’re learning fast. Keep your grip tighter on the backswing, though. If your hand slips, the whole strike falls apart and you’ll be left wide open for attack.”

Telemachus adjusted without hesitation, nodding eagerly.

Odysseus watched the exchange with a smile, stepping back to let them work. “You know,” he began, voice light, “we could use another partner in the ring.”

Hermes hesitated, wings flaring instinctively. His eyes drifted down to his hands, still poised as if ready to correct Telemachus’s stance again. He opened his mouth, then closed it, uncertainty flickering across his features.

But then Telemachus turned, eyes wide and hopeful. “Would you?” he asked. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Hermes felt the question settle in his chest, heavy and hopeful. He looked back at the training ring, the swords gleaming in the sunlight, the space open and waiting.

And slowly, he nodded.

“I suppose,” he said, voice steadying, “I could give it a try.”

Hermes took the offered sword, its weight unfamiliar but not unwelcome. He let it rest in his hands for a moment, feeling the cool metal, the shift of balance, the way it responded to his grip. Memories of his Caduceus flashed briefly in his mind, how it spun effortlessly in his hands, light as a feather and twice as sharp. He pushed the thought aside. This was different. But not impossible. A new opportunity, he reminded himself.

Odysseus stepped back, adjusting his own stance. “We’ll start with the basics,” he announced, nodding toward Hermes. Telemachus, a little ways off, groaned playfully.

“Always with the basics,” the boy muttered, though his eyes were bright with excitement.

Odysseus shot him a look. “The basics are where you learn control. And control is the difference between victory and defeat.”

Hermes chuckled, flexing his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “I remember that lesson,” he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. “I just never listened to it.”

Odysseus raised a brow. “I can believe that.” He shifted his feet, sword steady. “Ready?”

Hermes nodded, wings twitching at his ankles.

Odysseus moved first, a measured swing toward Hermes' left side. Hermes reacted instinctively, bringing his blade up to meet it. Metal clanged against metal, the sound reverberating through the training grounds. Hermes stepped back, grip tightening. Odysseus stepped forward, testing with a quick jab. Hermes parried, shifting his weight like he used to, light, precise.

But it wasn’t just instinct; it was calculation.

Hermes' eyes flicked to Odysseus’s shoulders, reading the movement before it happened. He sidestepped just as Odysseus swung low, the king’s blade cutting through empty air. Hermes pivoted, moving behind him in a flash, his blade tapping Odysseus’s side.

“Clever,” Odysseus noted, turning to face him. “You don’t fight head-on.”

“I never have,” Hermes replied, flashing a grin. “That’s more your style, isn’t it?”

Odysseus chuckled. “Perhaps.” He lunged again, heavier this time, his strikes more forceful. Hermes didn’t try to block each one, instead, he danced around them, footwork light and fluid. He stepped back, then sideways, blade flicking out not to strike, but to distract.

Telemachus, who had been watching intently, couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t tell if you’re winning or just playing with him.”

Hermes glanced over his shoulder, eyes bright. “Why can’t it be both?”

Odysseus took the opportunity to press forward, and Hermes only just managed to deflect the blow, the clash of metal sparking between them. But rather than meet the king’s strength with his own, Hermes twisted, letting the force pass by him harmlessly. His blade swept low, nudging Odysseus’s knee just enough to make him stumble.

“That,” Odysseus said, regaining his balance, “is pure trickery.”

Hermes tilted his head, wings fluttering with laughter. “I prefer the word strategy.”

Odysseus laughed, stepping back to catch his breath. “You’re faster than you look. I thought without your wings, you’d be,”

“Helpless?” Hermes offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Grounded,” Odysseus corrected, a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “But you’re proving me wrong.”

Hermes sheathed his blade temporarily, his breath steady. “I’ve always found there’s more than one way to win a fight.” He turned to Telemachus, who was now practically buzzing with excitement. “What do you think, young prince?”

Telemachus grinned. “I think I want to see more.”

Hermes stretched his shoulders, wings fluttering at his ankles. “I think I want to do more.” He turned to Odysseus.

“Again,” he commanded. The king nodded and took his position once more.

This time, Hermes adjusted his grip, settling his feet more firmly on the ground. He rolled his shoulders back, feeling the weight of the blade become more familiar. Odysseus smiled approvingly, readying his stance.

The swords met once more. Hermes' strikes were sharper now, his footing more grounded. Each swing felt more natural, more instinctual. Odysseus blocked and countered, his strength evident, but Hermes moved with a fluidity that hadn’t fully left him. He ducked under a wide swing, stepping forward and tapping the king’s side with the flat of his blade.

Odysseus blinked, then laughed, stepping back. “You’re still fast,” he acknowledged, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. “Even without your divine speed.”

Hermes hesitated, a flicker of sorrow passing through his eyes, but he nodded. “Indeed, I am,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Telemachus raced over, eyes bright with admiration. “You moved so fast! I almost missed it!”

Hermes turned to him, offering a small grin. “Speed isn’t always about how quickly you move, young prince. It’s about when you move. Anticipation is half the battle.” He straightened up, glancing at Telemachus’s stance. “You’re watching your father’s sword too much,” he observed. “If you focus solely on the blade, you miss the body’s intention.”

Telemachus frowned, glancing down at his form. “What do you mean?”

Hermes set his sword aside for a moment. He stepped behind Telemachus, gently adjusting his shoulders and tapping his legs into a stronger stance. “It’s in the hips, the shoulders,” he explained, his voice calm and instructive. “A sword is only an extension of the person. If you watch the arm alone, you won’t see the strike coming. You have to watch the whole body.”

Telemachus nodded, eyes narrowed with focus. He adjusted his stance again, mimicking the form Hermes showed him. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Hermes said, pride slipping into his tone. He stepped back, nodding to Odysseus. “Try again.”

Odysseus raised his blade, moving slower this time, a controlled swing toward Telemachus’s left side. The prince reacted quicker, catching the motion in Odysseus’s shoulder and bringing his blade up to meet it. The swords clanged together, and Telemachus held his ground.

“There you go!” Hermes called out, his wings fluttering with excitement. “Keep your weight balanced. Don’t lean forward too much.”

Telemachus adjusted mid-strike, parrying another blow. This time, he held his ground longer, his eyes more focused, his movements less rushed. Odysseus nodded in approval, stepping back and lowering his blade. “Well done, son.”

The young prince beamed, turning to Hermes. “You make it sound so simple!”

Hermes chuckled, crossing his arms. “That’s because I’ve spent millennia practicing.”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide. “Millennia?”

Hermes smiled wistfully. “Time is a strange thing to a god. I’ve lived for so long, have seen the world grow and change, and yet I learn every day.”

Before Telemachus could ask more questions, Odysseus stepped forward, raising his sword again. “What do you say, Hermes? Want to give it another go?”

Hermes hesitated, glancing at the sword he’d set aside. His fingers twitched. He was winded, sure, but it was the good kind of exhaustion. The kind that made him feel alive, like he was finally moving again. His wings fluttered against his ankles, itching for motion.

He reached for the sword, the weight familiar now, not quite like the Caduceus but still powerful in his grip. He turned back to Odysseus, lifting the blade with newfound confidence. His chin tilted up, eyes sharp.

Telemachus stepped forward, sword in hand, eyes bright with anticipation. “Would you like to spar?” he asked, his voice hopeful but steady.

Hermes blinked, surprised by the request. He glanced at Odysseus, who only smiled and nodded in encouragement. “Go on,” the king said. “I think you’ll find him a quick learner.”

Hermes hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly on the hilt of his own borrowed sword. “Are you sure?” he asked Telemachus. “I’m a bit rusty, you know.”

The young prince only grinned, adjusting his grip on the sword. “I’ll take my chances.”

Hermes couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He admired Telemachus’s confidence, the way he held himself like he was ready to take on the world. The god nodded, stepping forward and settling into a stance.

Telemachus’s stance was steady, his grip on the blade firm. He squared his shoulders and nodded, signaling he was ready. Hermes raised his sword, feeling the weight of it settle comfortably in his hands. He offered a nod back.

Telemachus moved first, a sweeping arc aimed at Hermes' side. Hermes blocked it easily, stepping back and observing the prince’s form. He was quick, deliberate, but something else caught Hermes' eye.

He could see Athena mirrored in the prince's movements. The way his feet moved, the precision of his strikes, the way he held his shoulders steady with every swing. It was all Athena.

Hermes swallowed, wings twitching restlessly against his ankles. He shifted his grip, trying to remain focused on his opponent, but his thoughts wandered back to Olympus. To his family.

His mind slipped, unbidden, to one of the countless days he’d sparred with Athena beneath the high arches of Olympus. She always stood with perfect form, blade angled just right. 

“Less trickery, Hermes,” she would call out, voice sharp but never unkind. “You can’t always dance your way out of a fight.”

Hermes, who had been dodging, weaving, and floating around her strikes, flashed her a grin. “But it works so well,” he taunted, spinning out of her reach and tapping her shoulder with the flat of his blade. “Point for me, I think.”

Athena straightened, her eyes narrowing with a glimmer of pride she tried to hide. “A lucky hit.”

“You always say that,” Hermes laughed, wings flaring with energy. “One of these days, you’ll admit I’ve got talent.”

“One of these days, you’ll earn it,” she retorted, but her eyes were bright with amusement. Off to the side, Apollo lounged on a low stone wall, plucking idle notes on his lyre. He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “I don’t know, sister. I think he might have you there.”

Athena scoffed, adjusting her stance. “You would take his side.”

Apollo only shrugged, the strings beneath his fingers humming softly. “Of course I would. He’s my favorite.”

Hermes' heart twisted at the memory, the echo of laughter ringing in his ears. He blinked, pulling himself back to the present, the training grounds of Ithaca coming back into focus. But the vision clung to him, wisps of the past tangled with the present.

Telemachus lunged forward, his stance eerily familiar, Athena’s perfected form mirrored in every strike. Hermes flinched, not from fear, but from the raw ache of memory. He could almost see her there, guiding Telemachus’s hands, adjusting his shoulders, critiquing his footwork.

He hesitated. Just for a moment.

But it was enough.

Telemachus moved forward with the momentum, expecting Hermes to block as he had done a dozen times before. But Hermes' sword was just a little too slow, his footing off by half a step, his mind still lingering on the shining marble floors of Olympus.

The blade swung wide, cutting through the air, and Hermes had only a breath to realize his mistake before Odysseus stepped in, his own blade catching Telemachus’s just inches from Hermes' side.

The clash of metal rang sharp and sudden, snapping Hermes back to the present. He stumbled back, heart pounding, breath catching in his throat.

“Steady,” Odysseus murmured, his eyes sharp and questioning. “You alright?”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his wings fluttering anxiously against his calves. “I-I’m fine,” he said, though his voice wavered.

Telemachus straightened, his face pale. “I’m so sorry, Lord Hermes. I thought— I thought you would block it.”

Hermes forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No harm done, young prince. You did well. I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”

But his hands were shaking, the weight of the sword suddenly too heavy. He handed it back to Odysseus slowly.

“I apologize for cutting our sparring so short, Telemachus,” Hermes murmured, stepping back. “Perhaps another day.”

Odysseus’s brow furrowed. “Hermes—”

But Hermes was already turning, wings fluttering with restless energy. “Thank you for the opportunity,” he said over his shoulder, voice tight. “But I think I need a moment.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and left the training grounds, walking quickly back toward the palace, the ache in his chest growing stronger with each step. He needed space. He needed to breathe. He needed–

He needed Tiresias.

The realization hit him hard and fast, nearly stealing the breath from his lungs. He missed their presence, their calming touch, the way they always seemed to know when he was unraveling before he even realized it himself. But Tiresias wasn’t here. He was alone.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep walking, to not crumple under the weight of it all. But his hands still shook, and the phantom echoes of Athena and Apollo’s voices refused to quiet.

He hurried through the palace corridors, searching for somewhere, anywhere, quiet. His breath was coming quicker now, panic clawing at his chest.

But then he turned a corner and nearly stumbled into Penelope. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she steadied him with gentle hands. “Hermes? What’s wrong?”

Hermes blinked, the sudden softness of her voice cutting through the haze of memory. He opened his mouth to answer but found the words caught in his throat. His head wings drooped, pointing to the floor in distress, and his other wings curled around his ankles as if they could protect him from the harshness of the world. He swallowed hard, blinking back the sharp sting of tears.

Penelope’s hands did not move from his shoulders. “Come with me,” she said softly. “Let’s find somewhere quiet.”

And, for once, Hermes did not argue.

Notes:

Oof. Athena.

Aside from that, we got to see Hermes grow so much more confident! Buckle up, the next chapter is easily one of my favorites.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 17

Summary:

Hermes spends some time with Penelope...and gets an unexpected delivery.

Penelope led him through the winding corridors of the palace, her hand light on his arm, guiding him with a gentle steadiness. Hermes kept his head low, wings curled tight around his ankles, his head wings drooping, brushing against his cheeks. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. There was something soothing in the silence, the way it wrapped around them gently.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of a wooden door, slightly ajar. Penelope pushed it open, and Hermes blinked as sunlight spilled across polished stone. The room was spacious but warm, its walls lined with wooden shelves stacked with dyed threads, folded linens, and spools of yarn in every shade imaginable. A large loom sat in the center, its wooden frame sturdy and well-worn, the threads already stretched and waiting.

Penelope led him inside, shutting the door softly behind them. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she moved to the loom, her fingers brushing along the taut threads with the familiarity of years. Hermes watched her in silence, his eyes drawn to the fluidity of her movements, the way her hands seemed to dance across the loom’s surface.

It was a different dance from the one he had performed outside. This one was far more delicate and light than his sparring had been.

After a moment, she glanced back at him, her eyes soft and steady. “Would you like to sit down?” she asked gently.

He gratefully slid to the floor and closed his eyes. He focused on the memory of Tiresias’s voice, letting it soothe the ache in his chest and wash away the voices causing his heart pain. He opened his eyes and glanced at the queen. 

She was humming a soft tune while she worked. Her hands moved with practiced grace, threading the shuttle through the loom, drawing it back, tightening each line. The steady rhythm of it mixed with the lull of her song was calming, almost hypnotic.

“Do you know how to weave?” she asked after a moment, not loud enough to disturb the peace in the room. 

Hermes shook his head, a small smile flickering at the corners of his lips. “I’m afraid not. I’ve seen Athena do it.” A pang hit his heart, but he pushed it away. “She was always a bit of a natural. I could never copy her, though.”

Penelope chuckled softly. “I imagine you did just fine for a beginner.” She paused, her hands stilling. “Would you like to try again?”

Hermes blinked, surprised by the offer. “I-I wouldn’t want to ruin your work.”

“You won’t,” she assured him, patting the seat beside her. “Come. I’ll show you.”

There was a gentleness in her voice that reminded him of his mother. It made his heart ache, but he moved anyway, stepping closer and kneeling beside her. Penelope handed him the shuttle, her hands covering his, guiding him slowly.

“Here,” she murmured, her hands warm and steady atop his. “You slide it through like this, nice and even. See? Not too tight, not too loose.”

Hermes watched their hands move together, the thread weaving through the loom in a perfect line. His touch was tentative at first, but with Penelope’s gentle encouragement, he grew bolder, his hands moving more fluidly. The thread danced under his fingertips, each line pulling tighter, cleaner.

“There you are,” Penelope said softly, her voice full of quiet pride. “You’re a natural.”

Hermes almost laughed. “I’ve never made anything before,” he admitted. “Not like this.” His voice was softer now, almost reverent. “I never thought I’d find myself doing anything of the sort.”

Penelope’s smile was warm. “Sometimes, it’s the simple things that heal the most.” She let go of his hands slowly, letting him take control. “You keep going. I’ll watch.”

Hermes hesitated, glancing at her. “You trust me?”

“I do,” she said simply.

And so, Hermes wove. His hands, once only used for trickery, for theft, now moved with care, with purpose. The shuttle slid through the loom’s threads, drawing lines of color across the frame. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it was his.

The rhythm of it calmed him, the steady pull and slide, the gentle whisper of thread meeting thread. His wings relaxed against his calves, his head wings perked up just slightly. He wasn’t thinking about Olympus. He wasn’t thinking about Zeus, or Athena, or even Apollo. He found himself thinking solely about what was in front of him.

The fabric began to take shape, uneven but earnest, lines of soft blue threaded with strands of ivory. It was comforting to watch it come together. Hermes almost didn’t realize when Penelope leaned forward, her eyes soft with approval.

“It’s beautiful,” she said simply.

Hermes blinked, his hands stilling. “You think so?”

“I do,” she said, and the conviction in her voice made his heart stutter.

Hermes looked back down at the loom, at the soft threads woven under his hands. His hands. He had created this. He had made something. And in that moment, something unfurled in his chest, something warm and quiet and hopeful.

He looked back at Penelope, his eyes bright. “I want to keep going,” he said softly, almost like a confession.

Penelope’s smile grew. “Then keep going, Lord Hermes. I’ll be right here.”

And he did. For a while, the two sat there, the sunlight shifting across the stone floor, casting shadows and light over the room. Hermes worked in silence, his fingers moving steadily, Penelope beside him, occasionally reaching out to guide his hand, to show him a new stitch, a different way to pull the thread.

But for the most part, she simply watched, offering him the space to create. To heal.

Time passed quietly, the sun inching its way across the sky outside the window, painting the walls with shifting patterns of light. Hermes kept weaving, his hands moving steadily, the threads pulling tighter, smoother. His shoulders began to relax, his wings settling comfortably against his calves as his head wings lifted, flitting lazily back and forth as he worked. Content.

Penelope watched him, her own hands busy with a smaller loom in the corner of the room, her movements practiced and fluid. She glanced up occasionally, offering a smile or a nod of encouragement, but mostly she let him be. She understood the quiet magic of creation, of hands busy with work that didn’t demand anything but time and patience.

Hermes paused, fingers tracing the edge of the fabric he had been weaving. It was imperfect, the threads slightly uneven in places, the color pattern not quite as smooth as Penelope’s, but it was real. It was his. He touched the edge thoughtfully, a spark of an idea flickering in his mind.

“Lady Penelope?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up, her eyes warm. “Yes?”

He hesitated, his fingers running over the soft threads again. “Would it be possible for me to make something with this? I mean, something more than just a simple swatch.”

Penelope smiled, setting aside her work and moving to join him. “Of course,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

Hermes swallowed, his hands stilling on the loom. “A scarf,” he murmured. “I want to make a scarf.”

Her eyes softened with understanding. “For Tiresias?”

Hermes' cheeks flushed ever so slightly, and he nodded. “It’s just that their cave is always so cold, and I thought,” He trailed off, a little embarrassed by the rawness of the thought. “I thought maybe they could use something warm.”

Penelope reached out, placing a gentle hand over his. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She moved to the shelves along the wall, running her fingers over the bundles of thread. “What colors do you want? We have plenty.”

Hermes followed her, his eyes flickering over the colors. Deep reds, rich blues, bright golds, and soft silvers. His fingers hovered over a bundle of soft, deep green, the color like pine needles after rain. He picked it up, running his fingers over the texture. “This one,” he said quietly. 

Penelope nodded approvingly. “It’s a beautiful choice. And for the accents? You can use more than one color.”

Hermes scanned the shelves again before his eyes landed on a soft, gentle blue. He picked it up, holding it next to the green. “This, I think. To line the edges.” His voice was stronger this time, more confident.

The colors would match Tiresias’s robes while also standing out just enough. He smiled, and Penelope mirrored the expression warmly. “Perfect.” She handed him the skeins of thread and moved back to the loom. “Come. I’ll show you how to start.”

They settled back into their seats, Penelope guiding his hands as he threaded the loom with the new colors. Hermes watched closely, eyes sharp with focus, taking in each step. Under her guidance, the threads began to form a pattern, the green twisting with the blue, soft and elegant.

“You’re a fast learner,” Penelope remarked, her voice soft with admiration. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d been doing this your whole life.”

Hermes blushed, his wings fluttering with pride. “I suppose,” he laughed. “I never used to listen to instructions, ask anyone on Olympus. Athena especially hated training me in anything, I always found workarounds and loopholes.”

Penelope laughed, returning to her work.

Hermes continued to work with surprising patience, each thread slipping into place with care. His mind drifted to Tiresias, to the way they always curled their cloak tighter when the chill of the Underworld crept in.

This scarf would change that. It would bring him warmth, comfort, something from him that he could hold onto. Something that would remind them that they were not alone.

For hours, he worked. Penelope occasionally came by to check on his progress, offering tips and gentle adjustments, but mostly she left him to it. She saw the determination in his eyes, the focus, the gentle way his hands moved over the threads like he was weaving something sacred.

And, in a way, he was.

The green and blue wove together beautifully, the edges bordered with delicate lines reminiscent of the sea. Hermes ran his hands over it, feeling the soft threads, the gentle give of the fabric. It wasn’t perfect, but it was his. It was real.

Penelope returned just as the last line of thread was tucked into place, the end knotted securely. She let out a soft gasp, her hands coming to her mouth. “Hermes,” she murmured, eyes bright. “It’s beautiful.”

Hermes looked down at the scarf, his hands smoothing over the fabric. His wings fluttered at his ankles, head wings lifting slightly. “Do you really think so?” he asked, his voice soft.

Penelope nodded, her eyes full of admiration. “I do. Tiresias is going to love it.”

Hermes looked back down, his fingers tracing the edge. He could already imagine it. The way Tiresias would wrap it around their shoulders, the soft green standing out against the dark folds of their cloak, the warmth it would bring.

But then the silence crept back in. The loom was quiet, the palace halls hushed with the soft murmur of distant voices. Hermes swallowed, his hands stilling. He carefully lifted the scarf from the loom, folding it with the kind of reverence usually reserved for relics. His fingers brushed over the edges, smoothing out the imperfections. He hadn’t made it perfect, but it was his.

Hermes held it to his chest, eyes shutting briefly. Memories creeping back in his mind. Athena and Ares’ skilled battle discussions. Their hands tracing over maps and spears, sharing ideas. He saw Apollo’s hands tuning his lyre, nimble and sure, teasing him for being sentimental whenever Hermes lingered too long on a crafted trinket.

A soft hand on his shoulder gently pulled him back. He turned to see Penelope standing there, her eyes warm and understanding. “May I say something?” she asked gently.

Hermes managed a nod, folding the scarf in his lap. Penelope settled beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Creation is a kind of healing,” she said softly. “When Odysseus was away, I spent years weaving. It was the only thing that kept me steady.”

Hermes looked at her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “The shroud?”

She nodded, a soft smile playing at her lips. “I wove it every day. And every night, I unwove it. A promise to myself. A reminder that he would return.”

Hermes' wings shifted, brushing against his calves. “How did you wait that long? How did you believe?”

Penelope’s gaze softened. “Because good things are worth the wait,” she said simply. “And Ithaca survived. We survived. It wasn’t easy, and there were days I wanted to stop weaving, to let it unravel. But I didn’t. Because I had faith that what I was waiting for was worth it.”

Hermes stared at the scarf in his hands, his fingers curling around the soft threads. He could feel the ache in his heart, the longing for something steady, something real. He thought of Tiresias, the way their hands always found his when he needed it, the way they held him close during the nights when the silence grew too loud.

"You're healing, Hermes," she continued. "Healing, though tough, will be worth the time it takes. One day, you'll be able to face the memories that I know haunt you with a smile. They'll always hurt, but they won't always consume."

“You’re wise, Lady Penelope,” Hermes answered. She smiled.

“I speak from experience, Lord Hermes. Though these twenty years have been difficult, my family is always worth the wait.” Hermes’ face faltered.

“Is it wrong of me to love my family? Even though my father caused this?” He gestured to the clipped wings, still contentedly swaying in a gentle pattern. Penelope’s face softened, and Hermes’ heart nearly broke at the warm and kind expression she wore.

“I do not think it is wrong at all. They are family still. Though your father hurt you, he does care.” She sighed. “Sometimes, we make mistakes. This does not exclude the gods, though I dare not offend them. It is natural to be angry, and even more natural to love. But remember, Tiresias is your family as well, as are we. If Olympus cannot be there for you, trust that we will. We’re honored to help you as long as you need it. Even after your punishment is lifted.” Penelope promised, and Hermes felt a warmth in his chest. Love.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

The light in the weaving room had shifted, growing softer, warmer, as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Hermes still held the scarf in his hands, his fingers gently running over the threads he had woven. Penelope sat beside him, her own work resting in her lap, but her attention was solely on him. She did not speak, only watched as the god smoothed his hands over the fabric, his wings occasionally flicking gently at his ankles, grounding him while his head wings remained content in their swaying.

The quiet was not uncomfortable. It was peaceful. There was no pressure for words, just peace. Penelope’s presence was grounding.

The soft creak of the door broke the silence. Penelope glanced up, her hands stilling in her lap. Hermes did not look up, still focused on the scarf. But the footsteps were familiar, steady and deliberate. When Hermes finally raised his eyes, Odysseus stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern.

“There you are,” Odysseus said, his voice low and relieved. He stepped further into the room, the soft light casting shadows across his face. “I was looking for you.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flickering across his features. “For me?”

Odysseus nodded, glancing at Penelope before his eyes returned to Hermes. “You left the training grounds so quickly. I was worried.”

Hermes' fingers curled a little tighter around the scarf, his wings drawing in closer, remembering the events of the morning. “I needed some space,” he murmured.

Penelope gave Odysseus a soft, reassuring smile. “He’s been here with me,” she said gently. “We were weaving.”

Odysseus’s eyes flicked to the scarf in Hermes' hands, and something softened in his gaze. “That’s beautiful,” he said, voice genuine. “Did you make that?”

Hermes hesitated, then nodded, his wings twitching slightly, enjoying the praise. “I did.”

Odysseus stepped closer, his eyes sweeping over the craftsmanship. Hermes could see the admiration in his expression. “It’s good work. It will keep you warm in the Underworld.”

"It's for Tiresias," Hermes murmured.

"He'll love it," The king said.

Hermes swallowed, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes. “I hope so.”

Odysseus straightened. “You’ve got a knack for it,” he added, his voice softening. “Didn’t expect to find you with a loom.”

Hermes gave a small laugh, brushing his fingers along the edge of the scarf. “Neither did I.”

Penelope rose gracefully, smoothing her dress with her hands. “I’ll leave you two for a moment,” she said kindly. “There’s more thread I need to fetch.” She offered Hermes a gentle smile, one that spoke of understanding, before she slipped from the room, leaving the two of them alone.

For a moment, neither spoke. Hermes' hands stayed on the scarf, his eyes tracing the woven patterns, while Odysseus watched him with careful eyes.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Odysseus said finally, his voice low and steady. “But I wanted you to know, I understand.”

Hermes looked up, his wings stilling. “Understand?”

Odysseus nodded, stepping closer and pulling a chair to sit across from him. “That feeling of…being cut off from everything you knew.” His voice was rougher now, edged with something raw. “I spent years at sea, years away from my family. I lost everyone who left on that journey with me. My son barely knew me when I came back. And I can’t get those years back.”

Hermes' gaze softened, his hands stilling over the fabric. “But you came back,” he said quietly. “You found your way back.”

Odysseus nodded, his eyes flickering with something warm, something hopeful. “I did. And you will, too.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re not lost, Hermes. You’re just on a different path.”

Hermes swallowed, the weight of those words settling in his chest. “I don’t know if my path leads back,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Odysseus’s eyes didn’t waver. “Paths change,” he said firmly. “And sometimes, they lead us right back to where we belong.”

Hermes didn’t speak right away. He just stared down at the scarf, his fingers running over the soft threads, the weight of it grounding him. “Thank you,” he murmured finally.

Odysseus reached out, a firm hand settling on Hermes' shoulder. “You’re not alone,” he said. “Not here.”

Hermes looked up, the sting of emotion sharp and unbidden. But it was comforting too, that promise. That understanding.

Odysseus gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before standing. “Come find me when you’re ready. Telemachus wants to show you something.”

Hermes nodded, watching as Odysseus slipped back out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He looked back down at the scarf, his wings shifting slightly. For the first time since he’d left Olympus, he realized that maybe, just maybe, his path wasn’t as broken as he thought.

Odysseus left  with a soft smile, the warmth of it lingering even after he’d gone. Hermes watched him disappear down the hall, his footsteps fading to a gentle hush. Silence fell for a moment, before Penelope returned.

Hermes gently folded the scarf he had made, smoothing the edges with care. His hands lingered on the soft fabric, his thoughts drifting to Tiresias and how it might feel to wrap this around their shoulders, to give them something warm, something real.

Penelope’s hand rested on his arm, pulling him gently back to the present. “He’s a good man,” she murmured. Hermes nodded, his eyes still on the scarf.

“He is,” he agreed quietly. “You chose well.”

Penelope smiled, squeezing his arm gently before standing. “Come,” she said. “There’s still daylight left, and I know Telemachus would like to see you.”

Hermes blinked, looking up. “Odysseus said so too.” She nodded.

“He asked for you earlier. Said he had something he wanted to show you.”

Hermes' brow furrowed, curiosity flickering to life. “What did he want to show me?”

Penelope only smiled mysteriously. “I think it’s best if you see for yourself.”

Hermes followed her through the winding halls of the palace, sunlight spilling through the open windows, casting golden pools on the floor. He felt lighter somehow, the weight of the day eased by Penelope’s kindness and Odysseus’s sincerity.

They reached the courtyard where Telemachus was waiting, sword strapped to his side, a faint sheen of sweat still on his brow. He brightened visibly when he saw Hermes approach.

“Lord Hermes!” he called out, jogging over. “I was hoping you’d come.”

Hermes smiled at his enthusiasm. “Penelope said you had something you wanted to show me?”

Telemachus nodded, his expression turning a little more serious. “I do. Athena came back after you left,” he began. “We worked on form. I showed her what you showed me. She said to tell you that your footwork has improved.” He glanced around as if checking for prying eyes before reaching into his tunic and pulling out a small, tightly folded piece of parchment. “She also told me to give this to you.” He held it out to Hermes.

Hermes blinked, his heart leaping into his throat. “What is this?” 

“She told me it was from Apollo. That he wanted you to have it.”

Hermes' hands trembled as he took the parchment from Telemachus, his wings flickering restlessly at his ankles as his head wings flared out. He unfolded it carefully, the edges worn as though it had been handled many times. His breath caught in his throat as he saw Apollo’s familiar handwriting, bold and sweeping, unmistakably his.

The note was simple, but it carried the weight of worlds:

Brother,

I wish I could say more. I wish I could do more than nothing. 
I love you.
I miss you as well. Be safe. I’m watching.

Always.
Apollo.

Hermes stared at the parchment, his hands gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles whitened. His vision blurred, but he didn’t care. He could hear Apollo’s voice in the words, feel the warmth of his brother’s presence just by looking at the ink on the page.

“Lord Hermes?” Telemachus’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Hermes cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. He folded the note carefully, holding it to his chest for just a moment before slipping it into his robes. He turned to Telemachus, his voice rough but steady. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Truly.”

Telemachus smiled, relieved. “I’m glad it got to you.”

Hermes managed a smile in return, though it was wobbly. “So am I.”

“Are you alright, Lord Hermes?” Telemachus asked.

Hermes managed a nod, “Yes,” he replied, voice steadier than he felt. “I just, I need to send a response.”

Telemachus grinned, stepping forward. “Well, I may not be the Messenger God, but I’m happy to help.”

Hermes chuckled, the sound a little shaky but real. “I appreciate it, young prince. I’ll be quick.” 

They walked inside, finding a small desk in the entryway. Hermes quickly pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill. His hands shook a little as he dipped it in ink, but he steadied himself, closing his eyes for a moment before he began to write.

Apollo,

I miss you more than I can express here. More than I can ever say.
I do not fault you for anything. You are doing enough. Take care of yourself. I love you too.
Be careful as well. Be safe. Don't risk yourself for me.
I’m always with you. Even now.

Hermes

He folded the parchment carefully, sealing it with a flick of wax from the candle on the desk. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the way his name curled across the back. Then he turned, handing it to Telemachus.

Telemachus raised a brow. “You trust me with this?”

Hermes smiled softly. “I do.”

The young prince puffed up with pride, tucking the note safely into the folds of his cloak. “Lady Athena thought you would. She’s waiting outside. I’ll go give it to her.”

Hermes blinked in surprise. “She…she’s still here?”

Telemachus nodded. “I think she wanted to make sure it got where it needed to go.”

Hermes' heart clenched, but he forced a smile. “Then, please, thank her for me.”

“I will,” Telemachus promised, and with that, he darted out of the room, a flash of youth and energy, leaving Hermes alone once more.

But this time, the silence felt a little softer, the air a little lighter. And Hermes allowed himself the smallest sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, Apollo would be waiting for his reply.

~~~~

Apollo paced the length of the stone terrace, his footsteps muffled by the thick vines creeping over the marble floor. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting fragmented patterns over the columns, but Apollo hardly noticed. His hands moved restlessly, fingers tapping against his palms, occasionally drifting to his lyre, which sat untouched against the wall.

He'd tried playing earlier, usually a comfort for him, but the strings had rung hollow beneath his touch. The melody had faltered, his fingers slipping over notes he’d played perfectly a thousand times before. It was like his own mind had betrayed him, wandering to places it shouldn’t be. To Hermes. To the clipped wings. To his brother, lost and alone. To the hollow ache that had settled in his chest since Athena had whispered the news to him.

Hermes was alive. He was healing. He was in Ithaca, with his mortal family who saw him and not his title.

The thought had soothed part of Apollo’s restless heart, but it hadn’t been enough. Not without hearing it from Hermes himself. Not without seeing him, touching his shoulders, ruffling his hair like he always used to. But Zeus’s command lingered like a shadow, and Apollo could do nothing but wait.

That’s why the letter meant so much. Athena had agreed to deliver it, though her eyes had held that familiar flicker of worry. He knew she was taking a risk. He also knew that she would do it anyway. Loyalty, after all, wasn’t something that simply evaporated because Zeus was in a mood.

Apollo stopped his pacing, his gaze turning toward the horizon. Athena would be back soon. He knew it, could feel it in his core. His fingers itched for his lyre again, and this time, he moved to pick it up, plucking at the strings absently. A soft melody floated through the terrace, gentle and aching, a tune he hadn’t played in centuries.

He let it carry him for a while, eyes closing, the sun warming his skin as the music drifted around him. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Apollo allowed himself to feel hope.

“Apollo,” Athena’s voice cut through the soft melody he’d been playing. His fingers stopped their plucking, and he turned. 

“He got my note?” He asked softly. She nodded.

“The young prince delivered it,” she said. He smiled.

“Good,” he sighed. “I wish I could do more.”

“That note meant a lot to him, Apollo. Here,” she said, handing him a small slip of parchment. Apollo immediately recognized the loopy scrawl spelling out his name.

“Is this–?” He looked up to find Athena gone already.

Apollo stared at the letter, his hands trembling as he broke the seal. The familiar, quick strokes of Hermes' handwriting greeted him, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He read the first line, and his heart clenched.

Apollo,
I miss you more than I can express here. More than I can ever say.

Apollo’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening on the edges of the parchment. He swallowed, willing himself to keep reading, but the words blurred for a moment, the ache in his chest overwhelming.

I do not fault you for anything. You are doing enough. Take care of yourself. I love you. 
Be careful as well. Be safe. Don’t risk yourself for me.
I’m always with you. Even now.
Hermes

A strangled sound escaped his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Apollo pressed the letter to his chest, closing his eyes tightly, his shoulders shaking. It was like having a piece of Hermes with him, a tangible reminder that his brother was still alive, still thinking of him, still loving him.

He opened his eyes and read it again, slower this time, tracing the loops and curves of Hermes' handwriting with his fingertips as if the letters themselves could offer comfort. Each word wrapped around his heart, both a balm and a new wound.

“Idiot,” he whispered, a watery smile breaking through. “You always did worry more about everyone else than yourself.”

He folded the letter carefully, tucking it inside his robe, close to his heart. The ache didn’t lessen, but it felt different now. Sharper, but not entirely hopeless. He could almost hear Hermes' voice, playful and soft, reminding him to breathe, to smile, to live.

Apollo sank onto the stone bench, his hands covering his face as he tried to collect himself. The memory of Hermes' laughter echoed in his mind, bright and free, a sound that used to fill the halls of Olympus. He could see his brother darting through the gardens, teasing him about his somber expressions, tugging at his lyre strings just to get a reaction.

He choked on a laugh that turned into a sob, his shoulders shaking. How long had it been since he allowed himself to break like this? Since he let the weight of loss exist within him without trying to shake it off or bury it under his duties?

But Hermes had always been the one to see through his masks, the one to tease him into lightness when the world felt too heavy. And now, in the silence that followed the letter, Apollo could almost feel that presence again, like a hand on his shoulder, reminding him to keep moving forward.

“I’ll be safe,” Apollo promised aloud, wiping his eyes and straightening his posture. “I’ll keep going. For you.”

He couldn’t change what Zeus had done. He couldn’t undo the punishment, couldn’t mend Hermes' wings, couldn’t bring his brother back to Olympus. But he could carry this letter, this promise, and hold onto it like a lifeline.

And he would. For as long as it took, he would carry Hermes' words with him.

Because as long as Hermes was still out there, still holding on, so would he.

Notes:

Okay, I absolutely love Apollo and Hermes' brotherly bond. Don't hate on me, but he'll definitely keep showing up.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 18

Summary:

Some sparring with Telemachus and some goodbyes.

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds. The grass was damp with dew, the air crisp and clear. Hermes stretched his limbs, feeling the pull of muscles that had been sorely underused since his fall from Olympus. The sword in his hand felt more familiar now, its weight a comfort rather than a burden.

Telemachus joined him, his eyes bright with that eager energy of youth. “I’m ready,” he announced, holding his blade steady.

Hermes smiled, spinning his own sword with practiced ease. “Good. Show me what you’ve got, young prince.”

Telemachus moved first, just as Hermes expected. His form was solid, a tribute to Athena’s training. His strikes were well-placed, his footing steady, but there was a predictability to it. Hermes could almost see the strings being pulled by Athena’s methodical hand.

Hermes deflected the strikes easily, stepping back and side to side, never meeting strength with strength. He slipped just out of reach of Telemachus’s blade, letting it whistle through the air where he had been standing just moments before.

“Your form is strong,” Hermes commented, parrying a swing. “But you’re too obvious. Every step, every move, I know what you’re going to do before you do it.”

Telemachus blinked, stepping back. “Obvious? How?”

Hermes raised a brow, twirling his sword idly. “You fight directly. That’s good, but it’s also predictable. A skilled opponent will use that against you.” He stepped back, motioning for Telemachus to attack again.

The prince did as instructed, moving forward with purpose. This time, Hermes slipped past his guard with a sidestep, tapping him on the back with the flat of his blade before Telemachus even registered that he had moved.

“See?” Hermes grinned, taking a step back. “You’re expecting me to meet you head-on. But I don’t. I shift. I dodge. I mislead.” He dropped into a ready stance, wings flicking slightly. “Again.”

Telemachus’s eyes narrowed with determination. He charged, but Hermes danced around him, blade flicking out to tap his shoulder, then his back. Telemachus spun, but Hermes had already moved, slipping out of reach with fluidity and ease.

Telemachus stopped, catching his breath. “That’s…that’s not fair,” he panted, but there was no malice in his voice. Just admiration.

Hermes' smile widened. “No, it’s strategy. Strength is important, yes. But so is cleverness. You don’t always have to hit harder; sometimes you just need to hit smarter.”

Telemachus sheathed his sword, breathing heavily. “Show me,” he said, voice steady with resolve. “Show me how to do that.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It’s not the most honorable way to fight.”

Telemachus shrugged. “But it works. And if it works, then I want to learn it.”

Hermes couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Alright then. Let’s get started.”

Sorry, Athena. He thought, shaking his head.

And for the next hour, Hermes showed Telemachus how to be light on his feet, how to read an opponent’s weight distribution, where to strike that would unbalance them, how to dodge instead of block. Telemachus stumbled at first, but he was a quick learner, his movements becoming more fluid, less rigid.

When the sun had fully risen over the horizon, casting its warm light over the training grounds, Telemachus was panting but grinning. “You really do fight differently,” he commented.

Hermes sheathed his sword, stretching his arms above his head. “I always have. And now, so will you.”

Telemachus grinned, clearly energized by their training. “I think I’m starting to understand now. It’s not just about strength or speed. It’s about being unpredictable.”

Hermes tapped the side of his nose, winking. “Exactly. Never let them know your next move.”

Before Telemachus could respond, the distant sound of footsteps caught their attention. Hermes stiffened, his wings twitching against his ankles, and Telemachus turned toward the edge of the field, where a handful of young soldiers had begun to filter in, their voices loud with early morning cheer.

“Looks like the others are here,” Telemachus noted, wiping the sweat from his brow. “They must be eager to train.”

Hermes shifted his weight, eyes flicking to the newcomers. His lower wings trembled slightly, curling behind his ankles, attempting to hide the clipped ends from prying eyes. His head wings flared and flapped with nerves. Telemachus glanced back at him, brow furrowing. “You alright?”

Hermes forced a smile, stilling his wings before they could draw unwanted attention. “Of course. I just wasn’t expecting an audience.”

Telemachus’s expression softened with understanding. “You don’t have to join if you don’t want to. I understand.” But there was disappointment in his voice, carefully hidden but still present.

Before Hermes could respond, one of the younger soldiers, a tall, lanky boy with wide eyes and a patchy beard, glanced over at them, his gaze lingering on Hermes' wings. His eyes grew wide, and he nudged his companion, whispering something hurriedly.

Hermes' wings fluttered instinctively, and he crossed his arms, trying to look indifferent. But the whispers spread quickly, eyes darting toward him with mixtures of awe and uncertainty. He could almost hear their questions: Why is he here? What's wrong with his wings? Why do they look like that? 

Telemachus’s gaze sharpened, and he straightened his shoulders. He stepped forward, his voice clear and confident. “Is there a problem?” he asked, his tone holding a hint of challenge.

The whispering stopped instantly. The young soldier who had first noticed Hermes swallowed, shaking his head. “N-no, my lord. I just, I didn’t realize there was a god among us.”

Telemachus’s eyes narrowed. “And you think it’s appropriate to gawk and whisper?” His tone was sharper now, commanding. “Lord Hermes graces us with his presence, and you repay him with disrespect?”

The young man paled, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean any offense.”

Telemachus stepped closer, voice lowering but still firm. “Perhaps you’d like to be the one to tell him what you were saying?”

The soldier’s eyes went wide, shaking his head furiously. “N-no, my lord. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

Telemachus held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded curtly. “Then get back to your training and keep your eyes where they belong.” He turned back to Hermes, the hardness in his eyes softening immediately. “Sorry about that.”

Hermes blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, touched by the young prince’s compassion.

“Of course I did,” Telemachus replied without hesitation. “You deserve respect, Hermes. Always.”

Hermes' wings fluttered gently, brushing against his calves. He managed a smile, genuine and warm. “Thank you, young prince.”

Telemachus smiled back, his eyes bright. “Anytime.”

The sun hung a little higher in the sky now, warming the morning dew that still clung to the grass. Hermes stepped back from the edge of the training grounds, watching as Telemachus rejoined the young soldiers. He moved with a little more grace, a little less rigidity, as he sparred. Hermes couldn't help the flicker of pride that warmed his chest. He had listened; he had learned.

He lingered just a moment longer, feeling the pull of time. His hands brushed absently over his robes, fingers then moving to brush over the scarf he had safely tucked away for Tiresias. Ithaca had been good; wonderful, even. He hadn’t expected it to be, but it was. There was something grounding about being among his descendants, something strangely comforting about watching Telemachus grow stronger, steadier.

But it wasn’t his home. Not really. He had felt the ache building for days now, that quiet longing to return. Hermes breathed in deeply, eyes closing for just a moment. He could almost feel Tiresias’s presence, steady, grounding. Home wasn’t Olympus anymore. It wasn’t even the skies he longed to return to. It was something simpler, quieter. A cave by a river. A prophet with gentle hands.

Home, he thought, the word settling warmly in his bones. It was time to go back.

He made his way back toward the training grounds, where Telemachus was demonstrating a series of defensive moves to a group of younger soldiers. The young prince spotted him from across the field, pausing mid-swing to wave him over. Hermes chuckled, obliging with light steps that barely touched the grass.

"I didn’t think you’d be back so soon," Telemachus said, brushing sweat from his brow.

Hermes offered a half-smile. "I’m afraid I’ve come to say goodbye."

The words struck like an arrow; Telemachus’s face fell for just a moment before he caught himself, schooling his expression. "You’re leaving?"

Hermes nodded. "It’s time. I’ve lingered long enough, and there’s someone waiting for me."

A flicker of understanding crossed Telemachus’s gaze. He sheathed his sword and stepped forward, offering his hand. Hermes took it, the prince’s grip firm and steady. "I won’t forget what you taught me," Telemachus said, his voice softening with sincerity. "Thank you."

Hermes squeezed his hand in return. "And I won’t forget you, nephew."

Telemachus hesitated, eyes brightening at the familial recognition. "Will I see you again?"

Hermes' smile grew warmer, eyes softening. "Of course," he said, voice gentle. "I couldn’t forget about my family, now could I?"

The prince blinked, surprise flickering across his features before it melted into something softer. "Family," he echoed, the word carrying weight and promise.

Hermes nodded, releasing his hand and placing it on Telemachus’s shoulder. "Family," he repeated. "Take care of them. Ithaca needs strong hands and brave warriors."

Telemachus straightened, pride flaring in his eyes. "I will," he promised.

Hermes stepped back. He raised a hand in parting, and Telemachus returned the gesture, his hand lingering in the air even as Hermes turned to go. The god’s steps were light, but his heart felt heavy in that strangely sweet way that comes with farewells.

He walked until the training grounds were far behind him, the voices fading into silence. Hermes paused at the edge of the path, looking back just once to see Telemachus still watching, sword at his side, shoulders squared with the weight of new lessons. Hermes breathed in deeply, then turned his gaze forward. He had a few more goodbyes to say, and then he would be on his way home to Tiresias, his love.

Hermes made his way back to the palace, his footsteps light but purposeful. The sun had climbed higher, casting long shadows that stretched across the stone corridors. He navigated the familiar halls, the cool air whispering through the open windows, carrying the faint scent of thyme and saltwater. It was strange; he had only been here a short time, but it felt familiar now. Almost like a second home.

He found Odysseus in the courtyard, sharpening his sword with long, practiced strokes. The king glanced up as Hermes approached, setting the whetstone aside and rising to his feet. “Hermes,” he greeted, brushing the dust from his hands. “I wondered when you’d find me.”

Hermes chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. “Did I make it too obvious?”

Odysseus’s smile was warm, genuine. “I suspected you might come by. I saw you talking with Telemachus. He looks stronger, doesn’t he?”

Hermes nodded, the memory of their sparring fresh in his mind. “He’s a good fighter. Better than I was at his age.”

“Don’t be modest, friend,” Odysseus replied, clapping him on the shoulder. “I saw the way you moved out there. You haven’t lost your touch.”

Hermes' smile faltered, just for a moment. “Maybe,” he said, his voice softening. “But I’ve learned something new as well.” His eyes lifted, meeting Odysseus’s. “Thank you for that.”

Odysseus’s gaze softened, his grip firm on Hermes' shoulder. “You know, it’s strange,” he began, his voice dropping just a bit. “I always thought the gods would be distant. Unreachable. But you’ve proven me wrong. You’ve shown me that even the divine are capable of loyalty, of friendship. That they can care.” His eyes shone with sincerity, the weight of his words settling between them. “You’re a good man, Hermes. I’m proud to have known you.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flickering across his features. “I, thank you, Odysseus. That means more than you know.” He stepped back, wings fluttering slightly against his calves. “I suppose this is goodbye.”

“For now,” Odysseus replied, his grin returning. “You’ll come back, I’m sure of it. You’re part of this family now, whether you like it or not.”

Hermes laughed, the sound warm and light. “I suppose I am.”

Odysseus extended his hand, and Hermes clasped it firmly. Their eyes met, and in that moment, there was no god and mortal, no hierarchy of power. They were just two friends, parting with the promise of reunion.

“Take care of them,” Hermes said, voice steady. “Take care of Telemachus.”

Odysseus’s expression turned resolute. “Always.”

Hermes stepped back, wings fluttering slightly. “Goodbye, Odysseus.”

The king nodded. “Until next time, friend.”

Hermes turned, his steps echoing softly through the stone halls. He wandered for only a short time before he found Penelope, seated in her weaving room, the threads stretched out before her. Her hands moved gracefully, the shuttle gliding through the loom with practiced ease. She looked up as he entered, her eyes brightening with recognition.

“Lord Hermes,” she greeted warmly, setting aside her work. “Come to say goodbye?”

Hermes nodded, stepping forward. “I have.”

Penelope rose, smoothing her hands over her skirts. “I was hoping I’d see you before you left.” She stepped closer, her hands reaching out to take his. “You’ve done more for my family than I could ever repay. For that, I’m grateful.”

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly, his fingers brushing against hers. “It was my honor. I didn’t expect,” he paused, considering his words. “I didn’t expect to feel so at home here.”

Penelope’s smile was gentle. “Home is not always where we are born. It’s where we are known. You are known here, Hermes.” She squeezed his hands lightly. “And you always will be.”

Hermes felt the familiar sting of longing, tempered with something softer. Hope, maybe. He looked at her, eyes softening. “Thank you, Lady Penelope. For everything.”

Before he could pull away, Penelope reached over to a small wooden chest beside her loom. She opened it carefully, drawing out a folded tapestry no bigger than his outstretched hands. The fabric shimmered with deep blues and soft golds, threads of silver running through it like veins of light. It was Ithaca. He recognized it instantly. The jagged cliffs, the sprawling hills, the sparkling seas. She handed it to him, her eyes gentle.

“For you,” she said softly. “A piece of Ithaca to carry with you. I wove it myself.”

Hermes' breath caught in his throat as he took it, his hands smoothing over the delicate threads. The craftsmanship was beautiful, meticulous. He traced the lines of the hills, the tiny glimmer of the sea. “Penelope. I,” He swallowed, emotion tightening his throat. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it.”

Penelope’s hands came up to rest on his shoulders, her smile warm and full of understanding. “Family is not always blood, Lord Hermes. Ithaca will always be here for you. You’ll always have a home here.”

Hermes blinked back the sting of tears, wings fluttering with emotion. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’ve said enough,” she replied gently. “Now go. Tiresias is waiting for you.”

Hermes tucked the tapestry close to his chest, nestling it alongside his brother’s letter, the weight of them grounding him. He bowed his head, voice soft and reverent. “Goodbye, Lady Penelope.”

“Safe travels,” she replied, her voice steady. “And come back to us, Lord Hermes.”

Hermes nodded, his wings flitting softly. “I will.”

With one last smile, he stepped back, turning toward the exit. He had been welcomed here, made part of something more.

And now, it was time to go home.

As he left the palace, he began searching for the tug of the Underworld. He knew there was an entrance on the island, he’d used it before, long ago. He found it after a few minutes, hidden between a thick grove of trees.

He glanced at the sunshine once more, letting the light wash over him. For a moment, he could feel his brother’s arms surround him within the light, holding him close. He smiled and then ducked into the realm of the dead.

The chill was the first thing that greeted him. Then he realized he was falling. It wasn’t a long fall, just enough to bruise his pride and nothing more.

“Of course, this one couldn’t be on the ground,” he muttered, brushing himself off. He stood and realized he was right next to Cerberus’s post. The giant canine looking at him curiously.

“Hey there, boy. I didn’t bring anything for you this time. But I promise I’ll be back soon.” He said, patting the dog’s paw. Cerberus seemed satisfied and curled back up, still watching the influx of souls, making sure none of them tried to flee.

Hermes watched the newly dead for a moment too. Remembering how exhausting it was to guide them across. He shook his head and walked towards home.

As he wandered closer and closer to home, the castle in the distance caught his eye. Part of him longed to go, the visit his uncle, but he knew his heart couldn’t handle that rejection. Not yet. Instead, he focused on the outcropping jutting out in the distance. A smile crossed his lips.

Tiresias, darling, I’m almost home.

Notes:

So that's the end of Ithaca. Will it be back? Who knows? I do...wait and see!

So, I think this is actually going to be the last chapter before I get back into a 'normal' update schedule. I am, however, changing that schedule to 3 or possibly even 4 times a week. I have plenty of chapters written and feel comfortable posting that much. Sorry, for messing with emotions...oops.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 19

Summary:

Just softness. Just softness.

The cave was quiet, the only sounds the distant drip of water and the gentle whisper of Lethe’s current outside. Tiresias sat, nestled on the couch, fingers tracing idle patterns along his staff. His mind wandered through the silence, brushing against memories of Hermes. His laughter, his light steps, the soft flutter of wings that always seemed to follow him.

Then, a sound broke through the stillness.

It was faint at first, a gentle scuff of footsteps against stone, barely more than a whisper. Tiresias’s head shot up, unseeing eyes widening. His grip tightened on the staff, knuckles turning white.

He knew that sound. He’d know it anywhere.

“Hermes?” he whispered, voice barely carrying beyond their own breath. But the footsteps grew louder, stronger, coming closer with the soft rhythm of wings flitting about.

Tiresias didn’t wait. He surged to his feet, the staff clattering to the floor as he moved toward the entrance, hands reaching out instinctively. The sound of footsteps grew louder, closer, and then–

“Darling, I’m home,” Hermes breathed, his voice cracking just slightly.

Tiresias all but stumbled forward, hands outstretched, and Hermes crossed the remaining distance in two steps. They collided, not gently, not gracefully, but in a rush of limbs and grasping hands.

Tiresias’s arms wrapped around Hermes' shoulders, pulling him close, fingers tangling in the fabric of his robes. Hermes' hands came up to cradle the back of Tiresias’s head, wings fluttering with frantic energy.

“You’re here,” Tiresias murmured, breathless, hands clutching at Hermes' back. “You’re actually here.”

“I promised I’d come back,” Hermes whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Tiresias’s hands found Hermes' face, fingertips grazing over his cheeks, his brow, his hair, mapping him out as if to confirm his presence. “You’re really here,” he repeated, disbelief warring with joy.

“I’m here,” Hermes assured, voice softening. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Tiresias’s, his wings brushing gently against the prophet’s temples. “I’m home.”

The prophet’s unseeing eyes were bright, his blindfold nowhere to be seen, for which Hermes was grateful. He loved his prophet’s eyes. “I missed you,” he whispered, his hands moving to trace the lines of Hermes' face, memorizing everything again. “Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Hermes chuckled, leaning into the touch. “I’m fine, really. Ithaca was kinder to me than I deserved.”

Tiresias hummed, his hands sliding down to rest on Hermes' shoulders. “I worried,” they admitted softly. “I kept thinking, what if something happened? What if you needed me and I wasn’t there?”

Hermes leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Tiresias’s forehead. “I was alright, love. I promise. And even if something had happened, I would have found my way back to you.”

Tiresias huffed a breathy laugh, his arms winding around Hermes' waist, pulling him close once more. Hermes let himself sink into the embrace, his own hands running up and down Tiresias’s back, grounding himself in the familiar warmth.

“I missed you, too,” Hermes whispered against Tiresias’s temple, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I thought possible.”

Tiresias tightened his grip, his face pressing into the crook of Hermes' neck. They stayed like that for a long moment, neither willing to pull away, the cave filled with nothing but the soft sounds of their breathing.

Finally, Tiresias pulled back just slightly, his hands still cradling Hermes' face. “Your wings,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over the small ones at Hermes' head. “They’re restless. Are you okay?”

Hermes laughed, slightly embarrassed. “I’m fine, love, they’re just fluttering. They do that when I’m excited. Though they haven’t felt comfortable enough to express our emotions in a long while.” He admitted.

Tiresias’s lips curved into a fond smile. “I like it,” he said softly, brushing his fingers over them again. “It suits you. You’re like a little bird.”

Hermes felt his heart stutter, warmth blooming in his chest. "Pollo always called me a little bird, said I was restless and flitted about like one. Dite and him would always help me care for my wings. Said that even silly birds deserve to have their wings pretty, even if I'm just gonna mess them up again." He laughed, leaning forward, brushing his lips over Tiresias’s, soft and reverent. Tiresias returned the kiss just as tenderly, his hands slipping down to rest against Hermes' chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

When they parted, Tiresias let out a contented sigh, his fingers still tracing gentle patterns over Hermes' shirt. “You’re real,” he whispered, almost to himself. “You’re really here.”

Hermes chuckled, wiping away the single tear that traced down Tiresias’s cheek. “I’m real,” he promised. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tiresias’s hands moved to rest on Hermes' shoulders again, his touch grounding. “Tell me everything,” he urged gently. “I want to know how Ithaca treated you.”

Hermes smiled, his wings giving a soft flutter. “I will. I have so much to tell you.” He hesitated, his hands fumbling slightly as he reached into the folds of his robes. “But first, I have something for you.”

Tiresias tilted their head, curious. Hermes pulled out the scarf, unfolding it with a soft, almost bashful smile. “I...I made this for you.”

Tiresias’s hands moved forward, brushing against the fabric before taking it gently. His fingers traced the woven patterns, feeling the texture with a careful touch. His breath caught, and Hermes watched as his lips parted in surprise.

“It’s beautiful,” Tiresias whispered, his hands lingering over the soft threads. “You made this?”

Hermes nodded, though he knew Tiresias couldn’t see it. “Lady Penelope taught me how. I thought that since it’s always so cold here, I wanted you to have something warm. Something from me.”

Tiresias swallowed thickly, his fingers tightening around the scarf. “Hermes,” he breathed, his voice breaking. “It’s perfect.”

Hermes reached out, gently draping it over Tiresias’s shoulders. The dark green and soft blue looked beautiful against the prophet’s robes, the colors blending seamlessly with his worn cloak. Tiresias’s hands moved to hold the ends, their face tilting upward, unseeing eyes bright with emotion.

“I’ll wear it every day,” Tiresias whispered, their voice thick with gratitude.

Hermes couldn’t help the way his wings fluttered again, his hand reaching up to cup Tiresias’s cheek. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you like it.”

Tiresias smiled, leaning into the touch. “It’s warm,” he murmured, his hands finding Hermes again, pulling him closer. “Like you.”

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and full of relief. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing Tiresias again, this time a bit firmer, a bit more sure. When they pulled apart, Tiresias laughed too, brushing his nose against Hermes'.

“Welcome home,” he whispered.

Hermes squeezed his hands, his heart swelling with warmth. “It’s good to be home.”

“You have stories to tell, I know it. Now come, sit. Tell me your adventures.” Tiresias laughed, pulling Hermes to the couch. Hermes went with him, sitting down, immediately pulling the prophet into his lap, not wanting to be without him.

Hermes settled back against the cushions, his arms still wrapped securely around Tiresias. The prophet snuggled comfortably against him, fingers lightly tracing over the scarf still resting around their shoulders. “So,” Tiresias began, voice soft but eager. “Tell me everything.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings giving a small flutter. “Everything? You might regret that.”

Tiresias laughed, a warm, rich sound. “I don’t think I could ever get tired of your stories.”

Hermes' expression softened, his hand gently brushing along Tiresias’s back. “Alright then,” he began, voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Where to start?”

He leaned back, eyes drifting to the stone ceiling as he began to recount it all. “When I first got there, it was…strange. Familiar, but different. Odysseus had changed since I last saw him. He was more weathered, the years etched into his eyes, but still strong, still kind. He welcomed me with open arms. His son was wary, but kind. As expected for what he went through these twenty years. He’s a skilled fighter and a dedicated learner, though. And Penelope,” Hermes paused, a small smile flickering on his lips. “She’s remarkable. Stronger than I imagined. She welcomed me, too. They all treated me like I belonged there.”

Tiresias’s hands tightened slightly against his robe, their expression softening with relief. “I’m glad,” they whispered. “I’m so glad you weren’t alone.”

Hermes' wings swayed gently, the memory comforting. “I even sparred,” he continued, a touch of pride slipping into his tone. “Telemachus and Odysseus asked me to train with them. I was hesitant at first, you know, with my wings gone. But I did it. And it felt good. Better than I thought it would. I fought with strategy, with my mind, not just my speed.”

Tiresias’s expression brightened, unseeing eyes searching for Hermes' face. Their hands moved to touch his cheek, thumb grazing his jaw. “You did?” he murmured, the pride in their voice evident. “You didn’t need the wings? You held your own?”

Hermes nodded, pressing his cheek into Tiresias’s hand. “I did. I even managed to surprise Odysseus a few times.” He grinned, wings fluttering with pride. “Turns out, I’m more than just speed. I just had to learn to fight differently.” 

“I told you you were more than your wings,” Tiresias murmured. Hermes sighed.

“I know, I should have believed you from the start, wise one,” he teased. He then paused, eyes flickering slightly, wings stilling. Tiresias felt their lack of movement.

“Hermes?” He whispered. Hermes sighed.

“I won’t be able to get anything past you with these things reacting now, will I?” He said, though no malice lay in his voice. Tiresias frowned.

“You couldn’t hide your feelings from me before, my love. Your body and heart tell me everything. Now tell me, what’s wrong?”

 “Athena showed up.” Hermes’ answer was simple. Tiresias stiffened in his embrace. “She was there?”

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly, the memory fresh and sharp. “Yes. The first morning I sparred. She was training Telemachus.” His voice softened. “She didn’t know I would be there. When she saw me…she left.” Tiresias stiffened again, and Hermes was quick to tighten his hold, his thumb brushing soothingly over their back. “It wasn’t her fault, darling. Zeus forbade it. She wasn’t allowed to be seen helping me.”

“I still don’t like that she left without saying anything,” the prophet mumbled.

“I know, darling. It did hurt to realize how truly alone I was, but I had Odysseus’s family there for me, and I know I always have you.” He said gently, pressing a kiss to Tiresias’s forehead.

Tiresias’s hands curled a little tighter around Hermes, their brow creasing with concern. “I don’t like that I wasn’t there. That you were alone.”

Hermes chuckled, brushing a gentle hand through Tiresias’s hair. “I wasn’t. I was with Odysseus, Telemachus, and Penelope. And even though she couldn’t stay, Athena did get word to Apollo. She brought me a letter from him.” He paused, eyes growing softer. “And I sent one back.”

Tiresias’s head tilted up toward him, eyes shining with surprise. “You did?”

Hermes' smile grew, his fingers brushing along their back. “I did. He…he told me he missed me. That he was watching out for me.” He swallowed, voice dropping just slightly. “And that he still cared. Despite everything. Despite Zeus’s punishment.”

Tiresias’s hands moved to cover Hermes', their touch gentle but firm. “I’m glad,” they whispered, their voice trembling slightly. “I’m so glad, Hermes.”

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering gently, brushing against Tiresias’s cheek. “I wrote him back. I had to. I couldn’t…not after hearing from him. I told him I was alright. That I missed him, too.”

Tiresias smiled, their fingers finding Hermes' hand and squeezing. “You always care about everyone else,” they murmured. “More than yourself.”

Hermes blinked, a soft laugh escaping him. “You sound like him,” he said gently, voice filled with warmth. “That’s exactly what he used to say.”

Tiresias chuckled, leaning back into Hermes' chest, their head tucked just beneath his chin. “Perhaps Apollo and I are more alike than I thought.” Hermes' arms tightened around them, his wings swaying contentedly.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, the warmth of the cave settling around them like a familiar embrace. Hermes felt his heart swell with each breath, each whispered word. He was home. He was safe. And for the first time in a long time, he felt whole.

“My sweet bird,” Tiresias whispered, hands brushing through the soft wings, happily swaying. Hermes laughed.

“Am I a bird now?” He asks teasingly. Tiresias sat up slightly.

“Would you rather be a cow?” They asked, face serious. Hermes sighed happily.

“As long as I’m your cow, I’d be the happiest cow alive,” he said, tapping the prophet’s nose.

“Well, I’d be wary if you’re my cow. There’s a certain trickster god who found it funny to steal this blind man’s cattle.” Hermes frowned.

“It was simply a test, my love. I had to make sure Apollo chose a good prophet.” He pouted. Tiresias chuckled at the god’s upset.

“Well, I suppose I prefer calling you my bird rather than my cow. So, for now, you’re lucky. Besides, a bird is more fitting for your beautiful wings.” He leaned back against Hermes, a contented sigh escaping him. Hermes smiled, arms wrapping back around him. Then Tiresias sat up suddenly, startling Hermes,

“Darling?” He asked, slightly confused. Tiresias waved a hand at him, standing up, much to Hermes’ dismay, and walking over to a small shelf in the corner of the room.

“Lord Hades dropped off some scrolls for you. Said you may find comfort and joy in them. I was hoping you’d read them to me.” They said, carefully picking up a few scrolls and carrying them back to the couch. Hermes raised an eyebrow.

“My Uncle dropped them off?” He asked. “He visits you?”

Tiresias shrugged. “Only twice. He cares about you, you know. He came to ask how you fared.” Hermes’ heart softened.

“He cares?” The question seemed not to need an answer, but he received one anyway.

“Oh, Hermes,” Tiresias whispered, sitting back on the couch next to the messenger. “Of course he cares. He is family.” Hermes huffed a breath.

“Yeah, family. So far, my family has done next to nothing to help. Aside from Odysseus’s family, no one will speak to me.” He muttered. Tiresias’s hands found his face, turning it to face his.

“None of that. You said it yourself. They have been forbidden to do so. You would hate it if one of them defied Zeus and ended up in your situation. You know it.” Hermes’ wings drooped, and the ones at his ankle curled around his calves in comfort. He sighed.

“I know. I would never forgive myself if one of them got hurt on my behalf,” he whispered. Tireisais’s grip on his chin softened.

“Oh, my love. How I wish I could draw your pain away. I wish I could soothe every fear and worry you have.” Tiresias murmured.

Hermes smiled gently at them. “You already do, more than you know, my heart.”

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its light casting warm flickers across the stone walls. Hermes stretched his legs out, his back resting comfortably against the pile of cushions Tiresias had neatly arranged on the floor. Tiresias was curled up beside him, head resting on Hermes' shoulder, the new scarf snugly wrapped around their neck.

Hermes had insisted on making a pillow fort of sorts where the two could curl up together next to the fire. Tiresias had indulged him, finding the task fun.

In Hermes' hands was a scroll, its edges frayed from age, but its ink still clear. He ran his fingers over the rough texture, eyes scanning the first few lines before he cleared his throat.

“What is it?” Tiresias asked, tilting their head up slightly, unseeing eyes searching for Hermes' face.

Hermes chuckled. “A story. A good one, I promise.” He paused, his wings giving a small, contented flutter. “It’s, uh, well, it’s about me.”

Tiresias’s lips twitched with amusement. “Of course it is.”

Hermes laughed, nudging them gently. “Oh, hush. You like hearing about me.”

Tiresias settled back against his chest, hands gently stroking over their scarf. “I do,” they admitted, voice soft. “Read it to me.”

Hermes smiled, the kind that warmed his eyes. He smoothed the scroll and began, his voice steady and clear. “Once, long ago, the great messenger of the gods found himself tangled in a rather delicate situation.”

Tiresias huffed a soft laugh. “Delicate? That doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Hey!” Hermes protested, though he couldn’t quite keep the smile from his voice. “I can be delicate. On occasion. Maybe.”

Tiresias snorted, and Hermes continued, leaning a little closer as he read, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, this particular story involves a rather elaborate prank on a few unsuspecting mortals.”

“Of course it does,” Tiresias said dryly, their fingers brushing over the edge of Hermes' sleeve. “I’m shocked, really.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings flaring with amusement, gently brushing against the prophet’s head. “Let me finish, love.” He cleared his throat dramatically and continued. “It is said that Hermes, in all his infinite wit and charm, managed to convince an entire village that their livestock had been enchanted by a wandering sorcerer.”

Tiresias raised an eyebrow. “Did you, now?”

Hermes grinned, though Tiresias couldn’t see it. “I may have exaggerated a little. It was a slow week, alright?”

“Slow enough to convince mortals their cows were cursed?”

Hermes chuckled, running his fingers along the edge of the scroll. “They were so convinced! I didn’t even have to do anything. A few noises here, a couple of doors creaking open there. They started spreading rumors all on their own.”

Tiresias shook his head, a soft laugh bubbling from their chest. “That’s terrible.”

“It was harmless!” Hermes defended, though his voice was light and teasing. “No one got hurt. They just…may have been convinced that their chickens were laying golden eggs for a week or two.”

“Golden eggs?” Tiresias laughed outright, the sound rich and warm. “And they believed that?”

“You’d be surprised what mortals will believe,” Hermes chuckled, his hand gently brushing over Tiresias’s as he continued reading. “Of course, when the ‘curse’ was lifted, I may have left a few drachmas under their pillows to ease the disappointment.”

Tiresias tilted his head. “You’re a trickster and a thief, but not without a heart.”

Hermes faltered, his wings stilling. He glanced down at Tiresias, who was smiling softly, their fingers tracing idle patterns on his sleeve. Hermes cleared his throat, voice softening. “I guess I didn’t want them to lose faith. Not in me. Not entirely.”

Tiresias’s grip on his arm tightened just slightly. “You have a good heart, Hermes. Even when you hide it behind all that mischief.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings giving a small, hesitant flutter. “I’m not sure everyone would agree with you there.”

Tiresias leaned a little closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Well, I do. And that’s enough.”

Hermes let the words settle between them, warm and heavy. He took a breath, straightening the scroll. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s see what nonsense they say about me next, hmm?”

Tiresias chuckled. “Do go on. I want to hear more about this mysterious ‘sorcerer.’”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering with energy. “Oh, you’ll love this next part.” He cleared his throat again, voice slipping into a dramatic tone. “And so, Hermes, the great trickster, found himself at the mercy of his own illusions…”

Tiresias laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, and Hermes' heart swelled. He read on, embellishing the details, adding in voices and exaggerated gestures that Tiresias couldn’t see, but could easily imagine.

Hermes’ voice wove through the tale, each line coming to life as he recounted the climax of his trick. “And just as the townsfolk were about to declare their village blessed by the gods, I might have,” he paused, a grin spreading across his face. “I might have let a few of their so-called ‘enchanted’ sheep wander back to their pens, covered in a bit of gold dust. It wasn’t much, just enough to sparkle in the sunlight.”

Tiresias laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “You’re awful!” they chided, though their tone was laced with affection.

“I’m clever,” Hermes corrected, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth. “They were delighted! For weeks, they celebrated their ‘golden harvest,’ none the wiser.” He paused, the grin fading just slightly. “I did, however, return a few weeks later to clean up the mess. Wouldn’t be fair to leave them with false hope.”

Tiresias’s hand found Hermes', squeezing gently. “You really are a kind soul. Many would have left the false hope.”

Hermes hummed, his wings fluttering lazily. “The world has enough disappointments. No need for me to add to them.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly beside them. Tiresias tilted their head toward him, a smile playing on their lips. “You know. Some of these stories,” they began, voice thoughtful, “I always assumed they were exaggerated. Mortals tend to embellish.”

“Embellish? Me?” Hermes gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Surely not.”

Tiresias snorted, their hand finding his knee and patting it gently. “You do tend to be rather theatrical.”

Hermes chuckled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’ll have you know, most of what you’ve heard is true. Most of it,” he amended with a grin. “The rest is, well, artistic interpretation.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” Tiresias teased, turning their head toward him, their expression soft. “I’m sure the mortals would love to know how much ‘artistic interpretation’ goes into their stories.”

Hermes leaned in, “Well, if you want the real stories, I suppose you’ll just have to keep me around.”

Tiresias’s hand found Hermes', squeezing gently. “I intend to. You’re not going anywhere.” To emphasize his point, he rolled over, now lying atop the fallen god, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

“Now there’s no escape for you,” they chuckled evilly. Hermes let out a fake gasp.

“Oh no! Such a terrible fate has befallen me. Captured by my lover. Held with no hope of release. Somebody, please, save me! But don’t actually, I’m fine.” He exclaimed dramatically. Tiresias started laughing, the sound filling the cave. Hermes couldn’t help but join, his wings gently flapping with delight.

“What the great prophet doesn’t know, though,” Hermes continued, voice low and conspiratorial, “is that he captured the great Hermes.” Tiresias, playing along, gasped.

“Oh no. The Great Hermes? Whatever shall the prophet do?” He whisper-asked. Hermes smiled.

“Well, it is said that, when captured, the great Hermes will demand kisses until he gets them.” Tiresias lifted his head.

“Well, then I suppose I must give him what he wants. Who knows what may befall me otherwise?” Tiresias laughed before leaning down to kiss the god beneath him. Hermes lifted his head to meet the prophet halfway, gently bringing his hands up to cup Tiresias’s face, pulling him down, deepening the kiss.

“And what,” Tiresias broke away, “does the great Hermes do when he receives his kiss?” He asked breathlessly. Hermes leaned forward, trailing kisses down Tiresias’s chin, to his neck, sucking softly, drawing a soft gasp from the prophet. He grinned, bringing his lips up to Tiresias’s ear.

“He asks for another,” he whispered softly. Tiresias closed their eyes, a shudder wracking through their body.

“And,” they breathed, gasping softly when Hermes gently nibbled on their earlobe. “And what happens, gods,” they broke off again, as Hermes pulled their robes aside, baring their neck and shoulder to the chill of the Underworld.

“Yes, darling?” Hermes prompted, pressing soft, ticklish, biting kisses along the skin now bare before him. Tiresias took a breath.

“What happens…if the great – gods, Hermes – if the great prophet denies his wishes?” He finally got out, a soft moan escaping when Hermes bit into the soft skin, right over his pulse point, and sucked. 

Hermes pulled his head back, appreciating his work, small bruises forming on his partner’s pale skin. He glanced up, greeted by Tireisias’s flushed face, the prophet breathing heavily.

“Hmmm, no one has ever denied Hermes his kisses before.” He made a show of thinking about it, kissing Tiresias’s chin gently. “I suppose Hermes would respect their wishes. He’s a big believer in consent.”

He pulled back, giving the prophet space, and reached for another scroll, a slightly newer one, the edges still crisp. “How about another story instead?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Tiresias tilted their head, still catching their breath, “You have more?”

“Oh, darling, I have *hundreds.* I have centuries’ worth.” He unrolled the scroll, glancing over the first few lines. “Ah, you’ll like this one. It’s about the time I may have…borrowed Apollo’s chariot.”

Tiresias burst into laughter, lying back down on the god’s chest. “Borrowed? Is that what we’re calling theft now?”

Hermes smirked, wings fluttering. “I returned it. Mostly in one piece.”

Tiresias’s grin softened. “Alright then, tell me. But I want the real version. No artistic interpretation.”

Hermes raised his hand, as if taking an oath. “The real version. Swear to me.” He leaned back, pulling Tiresias just a little closer. “Alright, it started on a sunny afternoon…”

The story spilled from him like water, flowing easily, effortlessly. Tiresias laughed and gasped in all the right places. The cave felt warmer, the firelight dancing along the stone walls, illuminating the soft smile that graced Tiresias’s face.

Hermes wove the tale with practiced ease, his hands gesturing animatedly as he described Apollo’s fury upon discovering his missing chariot, the frantic chase that ensued, and the rather spectacular landing that resulted in a new riverbed.

Tiresias laughed, their head resting against his chest. “You’re impossible,” they managed, still chuckling. “I can’t believe you survived that.”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering with pride. “Oh, I’m not impossible. Just…improbable.”

Tiresias shook their head, a fond smile softening their features. “I’m glad you’re here,” they whispered, their voice suddenly tender. “I’m glad I get to hear the stories from you. The real versions.”

Hermes' grin softened into something gentler, his eyes warm. “I’m glad too,” he murmured, his hand finding one of the prophet’s and brushing along the back of it. “I never thought I’d have anyone to tell them to.”

Tiresias’s hand tightened around his, their face tilting up slightly. “Well,” they whispered, voice just above a breath, “you have me now.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, the feathers on his ankles brushing against the stone floor. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead. “I do,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “I really do.”

The fire crackled, the warmth settling around them like a cocoon. Hermes reached for another scroll, the movement gentle and unhurried. “One more?” he asked softly.

Tiresias smiled, their head resting against Hermes' shoulder. “One more.”

And so he read, voice low and steady, the words spinning out into the quiet of the cave. They stayed like that for hours, the stories unfolding around them, each one adding another layer to the warmth that filled the room. And when the fire finally burned low, the prophet had fallen asleep on Hermes’ chest, and the cave was steeped in shadow, Hermes set the scroll aside and pulled Tiresias gently into his arms, carrying him to their bedroom and laying them down softly. He climbed into the other side of the bed and quickly pulled Tiresias back into his arms. 

Tiresias, even in sleep, immediately curled around him. Hermes sighed happily. Home. This was home.

Notes:

So the chapters are going to get a bit longer from now on. Hope you're okay with that.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 20

Summary:

A soft morning, a rough afternoon, and a quiet walk.

I'm going to put a small trigger warning for dissociation in this chapter here. I don't know if this is a topic that needs a warning, but I feel it might be, so better safe than sorry. I also put a start and end warning in the chapter, so please don't read that section if you're worried it might affect you.

Enjoy :)

Hermes was the first to wake, his head wings fluttering softly, shaking off the echoes of sleep that clung to him. A soft snore drew his attention to the figure nestled in his arms, their arms wrapped loosely around his waist, head resting on his chest.

“My dearest prophet. Oh how I love you.” He murmured, careful not to speak too loudly. Tiresias’s breathing was steady and soft, each rise and fall of their chest perfectly timed with Hermes’ own. For a long moment, Hermes didn’t move. He just watched them, the way their brow furrowed slightly as they dreamed, the way their hands curled gently against his side.

Hermes’ hand moved of its own accord, brushing a stray strand of hair from Tiresias’s face. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of their cheek, the line of their jaw. 

The wings at his ankles twitched, a soft flutter that skimmed against Tiresias’s ankles, and he couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face.

This was everything. This was worth any punishment.

Hermes leaned back slightly, his eyes drifting to the ceiling of the cave. He let his mind wander, just for a moment. He thought of Ithaca, of Odysseus and Penelope, of Telemachus. The boy would be up by now, surely. The sun would just be cresting over the hills, painting the training grounds in soft light. He could almost hear the distant clang of swords, the muffled laughter of Telemachus as he teased his father, the sharp, familiar bark of Odysseus’s laugh.

He missed it, he realized. He missed the warmth of the palace, the feeling of belonging. It had been nice. It had been family. His fingers unconsciously brushed along Tiresias’s arm, a feather-light touch that he barely even realized he was doing.

A soft noise broke his thoughts, and he looked back down just as Tiresias stirred, their brow crinkling slightly before their eyes fluttered open, unseeing but bright. Tiresias blinked, head shifting slightly on Hermes' chest. “You’re awake,” they murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Hermes' smile softened, his hand moving to brush along their back. “I am,” he replied gently. “Did I wake you?”

Tiresias shook their head, leaning into the touch. “No. I think I just knew you were awake.” They paused, shifting a little closer, their hands finding Hermes' shoulders, pulling his head up to rest in the crook of the messenger’s neck. “You’re warm,” he murmured, nestling close.

Hermes chuckled softly, his wings fluttering slightly with the sound. “I’ve been called worse.” He shifted his weight, moving just enough to cradle Tiresias’s head more comfortably. “Sleep well?”

“Better now that you’re back,” Tiresias admitted, their voice soft and honest. “The nights without you were hard.”

Hermes' heart did a gentle flip, and he pressed a kiss to the crown of their head. “I’m glad I can help,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along Tiresias’s back, and the prophet sighed contentedly, melting further into his embrace.

For a while, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside silent and distant. Hermes let his eyes drift closed again, his wings brushing gently against Tiresias’s calves, swaying comfortably. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this still. This level of peace.

His mind flickered back to Ithaca again, to the warmth and comfort of it, but it felt different now. Like it wasn’t somewhere he needed to rush back to. He did miss them, Telemachus’s eagerness, Odysseus’s sharp wit, Penelope’s gentle strength, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t home.

This was. Right here, with Tiresias curled up in his arms, their breath warm against his neck. This was home. Tiresias was home.

Hermes took a breath, his arms tightening just slightly around Tiresias. “I missed you,” he whispered, barely realizing he’d said it aloud.

Tiresias hummed, a sleepy sound of contentment. “You’re here now,” they murmured back, fingers tracing small circles against Hermes' chest. “That’s all that matters.”

Hermes smiled, his wings giving a soft, lazy flutter. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice warm. “That’s all that matters.”

They lay like that for a while longer, neither in a rush to move, the morning stretching out in soft quiet. Finally, after a long while, Tiresias shifted, leaning back just slightly, their head tilting up towards him. “You’re awfully thoughtful this morning,” they murmured, their hand coming up to brush against Hermes' cheek. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”

Hermes chuckled, catching their hand and pressing a gentle kiss to their fingertips. “Oh, just thinking about Ithaca. And how I would love to take you there someday if I could.” He smiled and then reached to the table beside him, where Apollo’s note and the small tapestry Penelope had woven for him lay.

“Here, this is Ithaca. Penelope wove it for us.” He said softly, pressing the small tapestry into Tiresisa’s hands. He watched as their fingers traced the lines of the weaving, learning the land.

“I wish I could go with you next time. I would love to meet the people who cared for you while I couldn’t.” They murmured.

“I’ll find a way. Maybe I’ll sneak you out of the Underworld. I’m already in trouble with my father, there’s not much more Uncle Hades could do to me.” He teased. Tiresias sat up, face serious.

“Hermes, please tell me you’re not actually considering doing such a reckless thing,” he fretted. Hermes sat up too, bracing the prophet so they didn’t fall.

“My love, I would face the wrath of a hundred gods if it meant you could feel the sun again. Smell the freshness of life. Feel the soft winds of Aeolus in your hair.” Hermes whispered. Tiresias turned their head.

“I appreciate that, Hermes, I do. But I would much rather be able to hold you in my arms than ever feel the sun again. I am a dead soul; my time on the mortal world is over. I’ve accepted that.” He said. Hermes gently turned their head, pressing a kiss to their frowning lips.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, love. I wouldn’t risk myself at your expense. I was being silly, dear prophet.” Tiresias sighed, and Hermes' arms wrapped around them, pulling them close. They went willingly. 

“I love you far too much to bear the thought of losing you. Not even for something as glorious as the sunshine. You are far more important to me.” They smiled, leaning their forehead against Hermes’.

“I must be something terribly special then. For the great prophet of Thebes to choose me over the mortal realm.” He said, a smile in his voice.

Tiresias grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “You must be. Now come on. The morning beckons, we can’t stay in bed all day.” They gently pulled themself out of Hermes’ embrace, standing up.

“Why can’t we?” Hermes asked, a small pout forming on his lips.

“Because, you grow restless, little bird, and getting out of the cave will always do us both some good.” The prophet answered.

An idea formed in Hermes’ head, and he jumped out of bed, grinning.

“Very well then, prophet. If you can find me, we will go on an adventure of your choosing. However, if you can’t find me and give up, we return to bed for the rest of the day.” He said, feet moving deftly across the room. He stopped briefly to place a kiss on the confused prophet’s nose before racing to find a suitable hiding spot, giggling like a small child. 

“You really want to play hide and seek? Alright, but you’re not as sneaky as you think, my love.” Tiresias said.

The cave fell quiet, save for the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within the tunnels. Tiresias stood in the bedroom, head tilted slightly, listening. A smile crept onto their face as they heard it; the soft, nearly imperceptible flutter of feathers.

“Oh, little bird,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper. “You really do give yourself away.”

They began to walk slowly, their hands grazing the walls for guidance. The sound grew a little louder as they moved forward, the faint rustling a steady rhythm. It wasn’t loud, not at all, but Tiresias’s ears had long been trained to pick up on things most others would miss.

As they neared the herbs closet, Tiresias paused. The fluttering was right in front of them now, muffled slightly by the thick curtain they had hung in front of it. They grinned. Inside, Hermes was clearly trying to keep still, but his wings had other plans, brushing lightly against the stone walls of the narrow space.

Tiresias pulled back, a plan forming. Their footsteps softened, movements calculated and slow. Hermes didn’t hear them approach, too focused on keeping himself still and silent. A small giggle escaped Tiresias’s lips before he slapped a hand over his mouth, schooling their breathing.

In one swift motion, Tiresias flung open the curtain and shouted, “Got you!”

Hermes yelped, instinctively shooting upwards, only to slam his head into the low stone shelf above him. The sharp thud was followed by another yelp, this time of pain, his head wings crumpling against the harsh surface before he tumbled back down, clutching his head. A strangled gasp left his lips as his hands immediately flew to the crushed wing, the other twitching anxiously.

“Oh gods, Hermes!” Tiresias gasped, immediately reaching out. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t think–”

Hermes winced, his hands gently cradling the small, delicate wing. His breathing came in shallow pants, eyes squeezed shut. Tiresias’s hands hovered, unsure of where to touch. “Darling, I-I didn’t mean–”

Hermes shook his head, forcing a laugh that came out more like a whimper. “You got me alright,” he managed, voice strained. His wings trembled, the bruised one sagging just slightly.

“Can I help?” Tiresias asked softly, voice full of gentle care. Hermes hesitated, his hands still cupping the delicate feathers, but after a moment, he gave a shaky nod.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice fragile.

Tiresias moved closer, hands hovering just above the delicate wing, fingers trembling slightly. “Tell me if it’s too much,” they whispered.

Hermes sucked in a breath as Tiresias’s fingers brushed the edge of his wing. Even that light touch sent a sharp jolt of pain racing through him, and he had to bite back a cry. Tiresias’s hands stilled immediately. “Too much?”

Hermes was breathing faster, but he forced a smile. “N-No. I-I can take it. Just go slow, please.”

Tiresias nodded, their hands returning with even more care. The next touch was impossibly gentle, fingertips grazing the feathers, attempting to smooth out the disarray. Hermes' jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, and his hands gripped his knees hard enough that his knuckles turned white.

When Tiresias’s finger brushed past the bruised base of the wing, white-hot pain flared through him. All of his wings flared, causing even more pain to run through him.

“S-STOP!” He cried, hands flying up to cover his face, trying to defend himself from a threat that wasn’t there. He curled in on himself, pressing further back into the corner of the cabinet, trembling. Tiresias’s hands had left the moment Hermes had cried out.

“Hermes. Hermes! It’s alright, I’m done. Hermes?” The prophet’s words didn’t seem to reach the cowering god.

“Please, Father. Please stop. It hurts!” He cried. Tiresias’s heart broke.

“Oh, my Hermes. My sweet Hermes.” They whispered. Tiresias took a deep breath. He slowly reached out to the god again.

“Hermes, it’s just me,” he whispered, hands brushing Hermes’ knees. The god shook, flinching, but his breath seemed to settle just slightly. Good. He thought.

His hands ventured further, finding the god’s arms, still raised, still defensive. Hermes whimpered.

“Please, stop. Please don’t. Please. I’m sorry.” The god whispered.
 
“Shhhh, Hermes. It’s just me. It’s Tiresias. Remember?” Tiresias gently pulled Hermes’ arms down, trying to coax the god out of hiding. “You’re in the Underworld; in my cave. We’re safe here. No one will hurt us.” He kept murmuring reassurances. Slowly, he felt Hermes’ form relax.

“Hey there. Are you coming back to me?” They asked gently. A soft breath was his only answer.

“Hermes, my love. It’s okay. You’re safe.” They continued to assure.

“Tiresias?” His voice sounded so broken, Tiresias’s heart shattered.

“That’s right, my love. You’re safe. It’s just us. I know you’re hurting, but it’s safe. I promise.” They murmured. A soft scraping sound was his only warning before the god collapsed into his arms. Tiresias didn’t hesitate, carefully pulling him out from under the cabinet, holding him close.

“I’ve got you,” Tiresias whispered, their hands now rubbing gentle circles along his back. “I’ve got you, little bird.”

The silence in the cave was soft and heavy, wrapping around them like a thick blanket. Tiresias held Hermes close, their hands moving gently up and down his back, grounding him. The god’s breath came in shuddering waves, his hands clutching desperately at Tiresias’s robes as if afraid he might vanish.

“It’s alright,” Tiresias murmured, their voice a whisper in the stillness. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His hand moved slowly, carefully, finding its way to the base of Hermes' head wings, hovering just above the bruised one.

“May I?” Tiresias asked softly, not wanting to startle him again. Hermes swallowed, the tremor in his breath settling just slightly. He gave a shaky nod, his eyes shut tightly.

Tiresias’s fingers moved with the utmost care, brushing feather-light against the edge of the wing. Hermes flinched, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. Tiresias continued, whispering soft reassurances, his hands moving in slow, careful motions, smoothing out the ruffled feathers.

Hermes hissed when Tiresias’s fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot, his wings fluttering instinctively, causing him to wince. “Easy,” Tiresias soothed, pulling back just slightly. “I’m here. You’re here. It’s just me, my little bird.”

Hermes' breathing slowed, his fingers still gripping Tiresias’s cloak, but the tension began to bleed out of his shoulders. Tiresias continued his ministrations, their hands a calming, steady presence against the sensitive wing. His touch was gentle, patient, never pressing too hard, never lingering too long on one spot.

Hermes' eyes cracked open after a while, his gaze hazy and unfocused. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t–I didn’t mean to, to–”

“No,” Tiresias interrupted, voice firm but kind. “There is nothing to apologize for, Hermes. Nothing at all.” His hands continued their gentle strokes, smoothing the feathers with infinite patience. “You are safe. That’s all that matters. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I should have known better than to startle.”

Hermes’ eyes widened. “No. Please don’t blame yourself.” He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat refusing to loosen. “I, I forget sometimes,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I forget I’m safe.”

Tiresias’s hands stilled just for a moment, then resumed their gentle path. “I know, my love. But you are. You are safe.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Hermes'. “I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, less erratically this time, the soft rustle of feathers filling the small space. Tiresias’s hand moved to cup his cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had spilled over. “There’s my sweet bird,” he murmured, voice warm and soothing.

Hermes' breath hitched at the nickname, his eyes searching Tiresias’s unseeing gaze. “Your sweet bird?” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Tiresias’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Of course,” he whispered. “You flit about with such energy, even when you’re hurting. You’ve always been my sweet bird.” His fingers moved again, brushing against the delicate wing, this time without the jolt of pain. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Hermes' eyes squeezed shut, his hands curling tighter around Tiresias’s robes. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the prophet’s shoulder, wings fluttering with the motion. “I trust you,” he whispered, voice so soft it almost disappeared into the quiet of the cave. “I trust you, Starlight.”

Tiresias froze for a moment, the breath catching in their throat. “Starlight?” they whispered, voice trembling just slightly.

Hermes pulled back, just enough to meet their gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with dried tears, but his smile was soft, genuine. “My Starlight,” he repeated, the words carrying the weight of truth. “The one that always guides me home.”

Tiresias’s breath stuttered, and for a long moment, they simply held each other, the warmth between them blooming like a fragile flame in the darkness. Hermes' wings fluttered softly, brushing against Tiresias’s hands.

“My sweet bird,” Tiresias whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “And I, your Starlight.”

Hermes' smile grew, his fingers brushing along Tiresias’s cheek. “Always.”

Tiresias leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Hermes' brow. Hermes closed his eyes, leaning into the touch, his wings trembling with the gentle affection.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, the pain of the moment slowly fading into something softer, something sweeter. The cave was quiet, save for the soft whispers of comfort and the gentle flutter of wings.

 

**Trigger Warning here for dissociation**

 

Tiresias’s hands remained steady, cradling Hermes as if he were something fragile; if he held too tight, the god would shatter, and if he held too loose, Hermes would slip away. As they sat there, Tiresias began to notice something was off. The god’s breathing was slow, too slow, his chest rising and falling with a stiffness that spoke of tension, not peace. His wings, usually fluttering with emotion, were still and heavy, the faintest tremor running through them.

Tiresias’s brow furrowed. He listened carefully, tilting his head just slightly, his hands sliding down to rest against Hermes' back. His fingertips could feel the uneven rhythm of Hermes' breathing, the faint quiver of muscles beneath his touch. Hermes wasn’t here, not fully. His breath was too shallow, his body too rigid.

“Hey, sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, voice soft and low. His hands moved in gentle circles, brushing over the smooth fabric of Hermes' robes, grounding him. “You’re still with me, aren’t you?”

Hermes was quiet for a beat too long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was distant, barely above a whisper. “I…I’m here.”

Tiresias frowned, the lie as clear to him as if it had been shouted. They could feel the slight way Hermes’ hands didn’t grip back, how his body wasn’t leaning in the way it usually did. The god was holding himself up, but Tiresias knew Hermes’ weight, knew how he melted when he was present and safe. Right now, he was coiled tight, like a bowstring.

“Shhh,” Tiresias murmured, hands slipping up to cradle Hermes’ face, fingertips brushing just beneath his cheekbones, palms resting along the sides of his jaw. Hermes’ skin was cold, too cold. “I’m right here, my sweet bird. You’re safe. Where’d you go, my love?”

Hermes’ breath hitched, just a little, the smallest break in the rhythm of his breathing. Tiresias heard it, felt it even, the way the tension spiked just slightly before leveling off again. “I’m here,” Hermes repeated, but it was thinner this time, stretched taut, barely held together.

“No,” Tiresias whispered, shaking their head gently. He slid one hand down to rest over Hermes’ chest, feeling the rapid flutter of his heartbeat beneath his palm. “You’re not. You’re not here yet. It’s okay, Hermes. My Hermes.” His thumb stroked gently along Hermes’ jawline, slow and steady. “I’m right here. Come back to me, love. Come back from that hurt, my love.”

Hermes swallowed, the motion trembling under Tiresias’s touch. His hands were still slack, his wings unmoving. But there was a flicker of something. A tiny flutter of breath that stuttered out of him, shaky and uneven. Tiresias’s hand stayed firm, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his heart. “Just breathe with me,” he whispered. “Feel my hand? Right here. I’m real. I’m here.”

Hermes’ breathing hitched again, and this time it came with the slightest shudder, a crack in the stillness. Tiresias felt it, the tremor traveling through his fingertips, grounding him in the sensation. “That’s it,” they whispered, his voice steady. “Right here with me. I’ve got you.”

Another breath, stronger this time. Tiresias could feel the tension beginning to unravel, just the smallest bit. He let their hands travel up to Hermes’ shoulders, squeezing gently, a grounding touch. “There you are,” he murmured. “My sweet bird. I’ve got you.”

Hermes’ wings twitched, the feathers brushing against Tiresias’s hands in the lightest of touches. It was enough. Tiresias smiled, relief flooding his voice. “There you are,” he repeated, this time with more strength, more warmth. “I knew you’d come back to me.”

Hermes let out a shaky breath, his hands finally moving, clutching at Tiresias’s forearms like he needed the contact to anchor himself. His wings gave a slow, shivering flutter, and Tiresias reached out, fingertips brushing against the delicate feathers. “I’m here,” Hermes whispered, and this time, Tiresias believed it.

“There you are,” Tiresias said again, his hands gentle and sure. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Hermes', breathing with him. His hands mapped the god’s frame, feeling the tension ebb away little by little.

“Can you feel me?” Tiresias asked softly, his voice barely a whisper. His hands brushed over Hermes’ shoulders, feeling the god’s nod. “Good,” they murmured. “You’re here. You’re safe. I’ve got you, my sweet bird.”

Hermes exhaled, the sound shaky but real, his wings giving another small, careful flutter. His hands moved up, clutching Tiresias’s arms, his grip just a little firmer now. “I’m here,” he whispered, and it didn’t sound like a question anymore.

Tiresias’s smile was soft, gentle, his hands moving back to cradle Hermes’ face. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re safe, Hermes. You’re home.”

 

**End Trigger Warning**

 

“Tiresias,” the name escaped the god like a prayer, and he fell into the prophet’s arms.

“Oh, my love. It’s okay. You’ve had quite the scare today.” Tiresias soothed. Hermes nodded.

“I-I don’t know why it was so bad. It just hurt. And it was dark. And, gods, Tiresias, it hurt so much. I thought Zeus was going to pull it off. I’m sorry.” Hermes cried. Tiresias held him tighter.

“My love. My sweet bird. Oh, My Hermes.” Tiresias said, voice soft and gentle. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I’m so sorry you were hurting so much, my love. But you’re safe. Zeus isn’t here.”

“I’m here, my sweet bird. I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not now. Not ever.”

“How about we save the walk for another day?” Tiresias offered, his voice gentle but firm, his hand resting softly on Hermes' shoulder. The god’s wings twitched slightly at the suggestion, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“No,” Hermes said, his voice firmer than he expected. He paused, wings fluttering once before stilling. “I…I’d like to go today.”

“Are you sure?” Tiresias asked, his thumb brushing slow, comforting circles against Hermes' arm. “There’s no rush. We can take the time you need.”

Hermes' lips pressed together, his brow creasing. “I don’t want to hide just because things were scary,” he murmured, the words spilling out before he could stop them. His hands tightened at his sides, his wings curling close to his calves. “That doesn’t mean the whole day is ruined.”

Tiresias’s hand slid up to cup Hermes' cheek, thumb brushing tenderly beneath his eye. “That’s true, my sweet bird. But you don’t have to push yourself just to prove you’re alright. You are allowed to rest.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, eyes closing for just a moment. “I know,” he whispered. “But I want to move forward. I want to prove it to myself, not anyone else.” Tiresias smiled.

“Okay, my love. Let’s go visit Lethe today; her song is always a comfort to you, " they suggested. Hermes smiled.

“Oh, can we? I always love her song, Starlight.” Hermes’ voice was soft. Tiresias smiled.

“Of course we can, sweet bird. Let me grab my staff, and we can go, okay?” Tiresias said, pressing a kiss to Hermes’ forehead. Hermes carefully pulled himself from Tiresias’s arms, freezing momentarily when the prophet’s warmth no longer held him, no longer grounded him, but he forced himself to breathe. His wings all fluttered anxiously, but he steadied them.

“Well done, my love,” Tiresias said from across the room, having heard the anxious fluttering followed by Hermes’ deep, even breaths. Hermes smiled at them gratefully, taking their offered hand as they walked back over.

They stepped out of the cave together, the cool air of the Underworld brushing softly against their skin. It wasn’t cold, not like the biting chill Hermes feared. It was gentle, a breeze that carried with it the faint whispers of souls.

The path was familiar, well-trodden by their footsteps, and Tiresias walked with confidence, his hand still clasped with Hermes’, staff secure in the other. Hermes watched him with a sort of reverence, marveling at the way Tiresias knew every turn, every dip in the path, every uneven patch of stone. It was as if they saw it all with their own eyes, but Hermes knew better. Tiresias didn’t need sight to navigate his world.

Lethe’s song grew louder the closer they came, her whispers threading through the air like a lullaby. Hermes felt his shoulders relax, the tension melting away with each step. His wings fluttered softly, brushing against the fabric of his robes as if they, too, were stretching out in the comfort of her melody.

When they finally reached the riverbank, Hermes let out a soft breath, his eyes slipping shut as he listened. Lethe’s voice was as he remembered; soft, serene, and infinitely gentle. He could almost hear the echoes of memories long past, whispers of things forgotten, left to rest in her depths.

Tiresias released his hand but stayed close, fingers brushing against Hermes' elbow in a gesture of silent support. “Better?” he asked quietly.

Hermes nodded, his wings swaying gently. “Much better.” His voice was lighter, clearer. “Thank you.” They sat down, never leaving each other’s touch, letting the melody of the water soothe them.

Hermes let his eyes drift closed, his breathing falling in rhythm with the river’s pulse. He listened, the song swelling, shifting. The river’s hum was like a chorus, whispering familiar names, familiar laughter. His eyes squeezed shut, and his breath caught in his throat.

He heard Telemachus first, bright and eager, his laugh bursting like sunlight across water. Hermes saw him clearly in his mind’s eye, practicing with his sword, swinging with newfound confidence, his voice bright with laughter. Then came Odysseus, the deep rumble of his laugh, the firm steadiness of his voice. “Keep your guard up, son,” he chided, but the words were laced with warmth, with love.

Penelope’s voice followed, soft and strong, humming a lullaby that drifted like petals on the breeze. Hermes' breath hitched, his wings trembling slightly. He could hear her hands smoothing out fabric, her voice calling for Telemachus to wash up for dinner. It was so clear, so real. He felt as if he opened his eyes, he’d be back in Ithaca.

But then, Lethe’s song shifted. The hum grew softer, warmer, like embers in a hearth. Tiresias’s voice broke through, gentle and familiar. “My sweet bird,” the river whispered, the sound as delicate as a feather brushing across skin. Hermes' eyes flew open, his breath caught in his throat.

Tiresias’s voice was there, threaded through Lethe’s melody. It wasn’t calling him back; it was welcoming him home. His wings shuddered, and Hermes pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart. He hadn’t expected that. He hadn’t expected to hear Tiresias here. But he did.

And just faintly, so faintly it almost felt like a memory rather than reality, Apollo’s voice slipped through the river’s song. It was distant, like an echo bouncing off stone, but it was there. The words were muffled, but the tone was clear. Yearning. Regret. Love.

Hermes' eyes stung, but he blinked away the tears. His hand found Tiresias’s, and he squeezed gently. “I hear them,” he whispered. “I hear Ithaca.” His voice wavered, but he pressed on. “But I hear you, too. And,” he swallowed thickly. “I hear Apollo.”

Tiresias’s head tilted, their hand turning to intertwine with his. “Apollo?”

Hermes nodded, his voice choked. “I do. It’s faint, but he’s there.” He took a shuddering breath, his wings curling around his legs. “But it’s different. Lethe doesn’t lie. She shows you who your soul reaches for. And I…I heard you louder. Stronger.” He turned to Tiresias, his expression softening, eyes brimming with emotion. “You’re my home now. I think you always were.”

Tiresias’s hand tightened in his, their expression softening with understanding. “I’m glad,” they whispered. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Hermes leaned his head against Tiresias’s shoulder, the hum of Lethe singing around them, weaving through the air like threads of gold. For the first time in a long time, Hermes felt something inside him finally exhale, a weight lifting, unraveling, setting him free.

He closed his eyes, listening to the melody, and whispered, “I’m home.”

The river’s melody wove around them like a lullaby, whispering secrets and memories just beyond the edge of consciousness. Hermes' wings fluttered gently in time with the rhythm, the soft brush of feathers stirring the cool air around them. Tiresias leaned against him, head resting on Hermes' shoulder, their hand entwined with his.

For a long while, neither spoke. There was no need. The quiet hum of Lethe, the distant murmurs of passing souls, and the gentle heartbeat of the Underworld filled the space between them. Hermes closed his eyes, his breathing falling into sync with the river’s song. He could still hear the echoes of Ithaca, of Telemachus’s bright laugh and Odysseus’s firm voice overtop Penelope’s grounding melody. But it was Tiresias’s voice that lingered, steady and grounding, threaded through Lethe’s whispers like a beacon.

Hermes turned his head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Tiresias’s head. “Thank you for bringing me here,” he murmured. His voice was soft, almost reverent.

Tiresias smiled, their fingers tightening around his. “Thank you for wanting to come,” they replied, voice equally tender. “You’re stronger than you know, little bird. Not many souls would do this after going through what you’ve been through.”

Hermes let the words settle, warmth spreading through his chest. His wings puffed up in pride before returning to their comfortable swaying. Tiresias, as usual, heard their shifting and chuckled.

“Starlight?” Hermes asked softly.

“Your wings are such wonderful little things. Now that you’ve grown more comfortable with them again, they have so much to say. Absolutely beautiful.” Tiresias commented. Hermes blushed at the praise, his head wings moving to cover his face. Tiresias’s hands raised, feeling the soft wings now covering the god’s face, and they chuckled.

“Oh, sweet bird, don’t be embarrassed. I adore your little wings.” Tiresias leaned up and pressed kiss after kiss to the messenger’s lips until he felt the wings slowly retreat. Hermes returned the kisses eagerly, showering the prophet with love.

“How long have we been sitting here?” Hermes asked quietly after a moment, Tiresias now curled against his side.

Tiresias tilted his head, listening for the faint shift in the Underworld’s pulse. “An hour or two, I would think,” they replied, voice thoughtful. “But there’s no rush, my love. We can stay as long as you want.”

Hermes smiled, the expression soft and genuine. “I think I’d like to stay just a little longer.” He shifted slightly, wrapping an arm around Tiresias and pulling him closer. Tiresias went willingly, their head tucking beneath Hermes' chin, hand slipping to rest over his heart.

They sat in silence for a long time after that, neither feeling the need to break the peace that had settled around them. Hermes’ ankle wings fluttered occasionally, gently tickling the prophet’s calves. Tiresias’s breathing was slow and steady, matching the hum of the river, his fingers tracing gentle patterns against Hermes' chest.

Finally, Hermes stirred, his wings giving a soft, gentle flutter. “I suppose we should head back,” he murmured, his voice thick with contentment.

Tiresias nodded, their hand still entwined with his. “If you’re ready.”

Hermes hesitated, then nodded. “I am.” He smiled, helping Tiresias to his feet, their hands still linked as they made their way back along the familiar path.

The journey back to the cave was unhurried, their steps matching in rhythm, accompanied by the soft tapping of Tiresias’s staff, the silence between them comfortable and warm. When the entrance to the cave came into view, Hermes paused, his eyes flickering with an idea. His wings twitched, his expression brightening just slightly.

Tiresias, though unseeing, heard the wings fluttering about. “What is it?” they asked, tilting his head toward him.

Hermes hesitated, a smile pulling at his lips. “Oh, just an idea. Something I want to work on.” His wings fluttered, excitement humming through him.

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “Something you’re going to tell me about?”

Hermes grinned, pulling Tiresias into his arms and pressing a kiss to their cheek. “Not yet,” he whispered against their skin, his voice teasing. “But you’ll love it. I promise.”

Tiresias chuckled, leaning into the embrace. “Alright, little bird. I’ll trust you.” His hand reached up, brushing gently over the feathers by his head, fingers lingering just long enough to make Hermes' breath hitch.

Hermes led them back inside, his mind already alight with ideas, threads of plans weaving together in his thoughts. He had something to work on now, something special, something that would show Tiresias just how much he meant to him.

It would be perfect.

Notes:

Honestly, I loved this chapter. I hope you all did too.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 21

Summary:

Tired but dedicated Hermes starts a project.

Night fell over the Underworld, and the two climbed into bed. Hermes' head was buzzing with excitement, waiting for the prophet to fall asleep so he could begin his work.

The cave was quiet, the crackle of the fire in the hearth casting long shadows against the stone walls. Hermes' wings twitched with barely contained energy, feathers brushing softly against the sheets. His fingers tapped gently against his thigh, a rhythm of anticipation building with every passing moment.

Tiresias, ever perceptive, shifted closer, their hand finding its way to Hermes' arm. No words were spoken, but the touch was grounding. Tiresias’s fingers traced slow, soothing patterns along Hermes' bicep, the motion rhythmic and calming. Hermes' wings gave a soft flutter, settling slightly under the prophet’s touch. Tiresias’s hand drifted upwards, smoothing along Hermes' shoulder, then to the nape of his neck, fingers brushing through his curls with deliberate tenderness.

Hermes let out a slow breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He hadn’t realized how tightly wound he’d been, the excitement coursing through him almost vibrating in his bones. Tiresias’s touch was like a balm, each pass of their fingers unwinding him bit by bit.

Tiresias shifted closer still, their head resting against Hermes' shoulder. One of their hands moved to rest over his heart, the steady thrum of it pulsing beneath their palm. Hermes leaned into the touch, his wings stilling completely, their usual flutter reduced to the softest sway.

For a long moment, they stayed like that. No words, no sound save for the gentle crackling of the fire and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing. Hermes' eyes drifted closed, and for a fleeting second, he nearly forgot his plans. Nearly.

But then his wings gave the faintest of flutters, and his eyes snapped back open. The excitement, the anticipation, it all came rushing back, flooding his senses with energy. He shifted just slightly, careful not to wake Tiresias, whose breathing had evened out, the tension gone from their form.

Hermes watched them for a long moment, his gaze softening. He reached out, brushing his fingers gently along the curve of their cheek, his thumb tracing the line of their jaw. Tiresias leaned into the touch, murmuring something soft and unintelligible in their sleep. Hermes' heart clenched with affection.

“Sleep well, my Starlight,” he whispered, pressing a feather-light kiss to their forehead. He waited another moment, listening for the steady cadence of their breathing, before he carefully, ever so carefully, slipped out from beneath the covers.

His wings flared just slightly, catching the air to soften his footsteps as he padded across the cave. The fire cast long shadows, flickering softly against the walls, but Hermes moved with purpose, eyes bright and focused.

He grabbed a candle from the small table near the hearth, shielding the flame as he lit it with a practiced flick of his fingers. The light flared to life, casting a soft, warm glow around him. He held it up, eyes scanning the room until they settled on the small wooden chest tucked away in the corner.

Hermes moved silently as he knelt before the chest, placing the candle carefully on the ground beside him. His fingers brushed over the wooden lid, a grin spreading across his face as he carefully lifted it open. The contents were sparse, just a few odds and ends he had back from Ithaca, thread and skeins of fabric from Penelope as well as a small loom she had gifted him, but they were perfect. Absolutely perfect. They’d do just what he needed.

His fingers brushed over the materials, excitement buzzing through him. This would be something Tiresias could feel, something they could experience through touch. A story woven into thread, one that would tell of moments shared, of whispers by the fire, of laughter and gentle touches. He wanted them to feel it, to trace the lines of their story through their hands, to know that even without sight, the memory would be preserved.

He sat down, wings fluttering softly at his ankles and by his head, and got to work. His hands moved with deft precision, fingers weaving the yarn through the loom with practiced ease, remembering what Penelope had taught him.

As the hours passed, the tapestry began to take form. He started with the cave—soft threads for the stone walls, thick, textured yarn for the firelight that flickered against the rock. His hands moved quickly, almost methodically, as he added in the small touches: the herbs Tiresias kept drying in the corner, the woven blankets that lay folded by the hearth, the gentle curve of the couch where they so often sat, reading and laughing.

Hermes lost track of time, his hands moving in rhythm with his heart. He worked until his fingers ached, until the muscles in his back tensed from the hours of sitting hunched over the loom. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. This was too important.

When the first hint of the Underworld’s dawn began to filter through the distant caverns, Hermes finally leaned back, his hands trembling slightly, wings drooping with exhaustion. He glanced at what he had woven, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t finished, not by a long shot, but it was a start.

He hid the tapestry carefully in the chest again, making sure everything was tucked away safely and carefully. His hands lingered on the fabric for a moment, his fingers brushing over the rough weave of the stones, the softness of the firelight he had begun to craft. He smiled, wings fluttering just slightly, and closed the chest, tucking it away once more. Then, he softly made his way back to bed.

Tiresias was still fast asleep, his breathing even and soft. Hermes slipped back beneath the covers, arms wrapping gently around the prophet. Tiresias stirred slightly, leaning into Hermes' warmth, their hand moving up to rest over Hermes' heart.

Hermes closed his eyes, the exhaustion settling in now that he was finally still. But even as he drifted off, he couldn’t help the small smile that lingered on his lips.

The next night followed the same rhythm. Hermes waited patiently, his heart thrumming with excitement as Tiresias’s breathing evened out beside him. He pressed a soft kiss to their temple, whispering, “Goodnight, my Starlight,” before carefully slipping out from the warmth of their embrace.

The loom waited untouched in its small chest. Hermes pulled it free, fingers brushing over the threads he had worked so diligently to craft the night before. He traced the lines of stone, the delicate swirls that marked the curve of the hearth, the gentle outlines of the couch. It was coming together. Slowly, painstakingly, but it was coming together.

He lit the candle with a soft flick of his hand once again, the flame casting long shadows that danced against the stone walls of the cave. Hermes found the rhythm of the loom easily, his hands moving with practiced grace.

Tonight, he worked on the firelight. Penelope had taught him how to weave texture into the thread, how to make the flames feel alive beneath one’s fingertips. His hands moved deftly, tugging the yarn into place, his wings fluttering gently as he hummed to himself, soft and low, singing the melody Penelope had when they had worked in each other’s company that one afternoon.

Hours slipped by unnoticed. Hermes didn’t feel the ache in his back, the stiffness in his legs, the burn in his fingers. He only saw the tapestry, the vision of it, whole and perfect, stretching out before him. He wove until the candle’s light began to flicker, until the gloom seemed to lighten, marking the approach of dawn.

Only then did he stop, hands stilling against the loom, breath coming in soft, shallow pants. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. The tapestry glowed in the soft light, threads catching the embers of the firelight he had woven, reflecting it back in a way that looked almost real. He traced his fingertips over it, feeling the texture, the dips, and the rises. 

He let out a breath, shaky but satisfied. It was still just the beginning, but he could see it. He could feel it.

The tapestry was carefully tucked back into the chest, his wings giving a soft flutter as he winced at the stiffness in his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his head until he heard a soft crack. He felt lighter. Tired, yes, but lighter.

When he returned to bed, Tiresias hadn’t stirred, his breath soft and even in the early morning quiet. Hermes slipped beneath the blankets, curling up beside him, arms winding around their waist. Tiresias murmured something unintelligible, leaning instinctively into Hermes' warmth, and the god sighed, letting his eyes close. Just a little rest. Just enough to keep him going.

The days began to blur together. Each morning, Hermes would rise with Tiresias, his wings fluttering happily as they spent their days reading by the fire, walking the familiar paths of the Underworld, or listening to Lethe’s gentle hum. And every night, when Tiresias fell into the even rhythm of sleep, Hermes would slip away, candle in hand, to continue his work.

The tapestry grew, row by row, thread by thread. He had added the edges of the herb shelves now, the small bundles of lavender and thyme that Tiresias kept for their potions and salves. He added the little trinkets that sat on the shelves, mainly gifts from him to the prophet over the years. He wove the soft cushions by the hearth, the gentle curve of the cave walls. And every night, Hermes grew a little more tired. 

Tired was a foreign concept to the god. Sleep was never something he needed. So he found himself shaking off the nagging feeling, choosing to surrender to his project instead. But the feeling remained.

It started subtly. The way his hands trembled just slightly as he wove, fingers slipping on the thread every now and then. His wings, which usually fluttered with enthusiasm, began to drag just a little, the feathers heavy with fatigue. His eyes would linger just a little too long on distant shadows, and he found himself blinking more often, rubbing at his eyes when the candlelight blurred. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

During the days, Tiresias began to notice. Hermes' steps were just a bit slower, somewhat less coordinated. He would pause mid-sentence, blinking rapidly as if trying to recall what he had been saying. When they walked to Lethe or to visit Cerberus, Hermes tripped more often, his ankle wings failing to flutter in time to keep his balance. He laughed it off, brushing it away with a wave of his hand. “Clumsy as always,” he would joke, but Tiresias’s brow would crease with concern.

One afternoon, as they sat together by the fire, surrounded by blankets and each other’s warmth, Tiresias’s hand found Hermes', squeezing gently. “You’ve been so quiet lately, Hermes,” he murmured, voice soft with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a tired flutter before stilling, too tired to keep up with their movement. Tiresias noticed the lack of moving sound immediately. Hermes looked over at Tiresias, his smile soft but strained. “Oh, I’m fine, Starlight. Just been up to something.” His eyes crinkled with mischief, though the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” Tiresias echoed, their hand tracing gentle circles over Hermes' knuckles. “With what, little bird?”

Hermes chuckled, the sound softer than usual. “A surprise. One, you’ll just have to wait for.” He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Tiresias’s cheek, his wings giving a half-hearted flap. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

Tiresias hummed, not entirely convinced. “You’re sure you’re alright? You seem,” they paused, searching for the right word, “weary.”

Hermes squeezed their hand, his smile widening. “I’m fine, Starlight. Just excited.” He leaned back against the cushions, closing his eyes for a brief moment, his wings stilling completely. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

Tiresias squeezed his hand back, but the crease in their brow remained. “Alright, sweet bird. If you’re sure.” But the worry lingered, settling in their chest like a stone.

Hermes didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. The fire crackled gently beside them, and Hermes leaned his head back against the cushions, his eyes slipping shut for just a moment longer than usual. His wings were still, and his breathing slowed, soft and even.

Tiresias’s hand never left his. The prophet knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t quite place it.

The days continued, a rhythm that grew familiar, if not becoming habit. Morning would find Hermes stretching out his wings, shaking off the remnants of sleep that clung to him like cobwebs. Tiresias would reach out, hands brushing over his arm, their fingers lingering just a bit longer than usual. “Morning, little bird,” he would murmur, their voice laced with a hint of worry. They would read by the warmth of the flames, Tiresias’s fingers tracing over the embossed patterns of his favorite scrolls, while Hermes recounted stories, his voice rich with animation.

But slowly, things began to shift. Tiresias couldn’t stop noticing. Hermes' wings, once vibrant and full of life, began to lack movement. It was subtle at first; the way they would tremble slightly when he lifted his ankles, the more common stumbles as they walked the paths of the Underworld. His wings, which usually flared with joy, now flapped unevenly, fluttering clumsily against his calves; his headwings barely moved.

And then there were the little things. Hermes would misplace things. He forgot where he’d left the scrolls, sometimes turning the cave upside down in search of a single book that was right in front of him. Tiresias would chuckle softly and help him find it, but the crease in their brow grew a little deeper each time.

“You’ve been distracted, little bird,” Tiresias said one afternoon, his voice gentle but firm. They were seated by the fire, Hermes resting his head against Tiresias’s shoulder, wings drooping slightly. “You’ve misplaced your book three times today.”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a shaky flutter before settling back against his ankles, his head wings, Tiresias noted, didn’t even move, they just remained drooped against their shoulder. Worrisome. Hermes just rubbed at his eyes, a smile spreading across his face. “Oh, you know me. Scatterbrained as ever.” He chuckled, but it was thin, almost forced.

Tiresias’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “Scatterbrained, maybe,” he murmured, their fingers tracing soothing patterns over his knuckles. “But not like this. I can tell something’s wrong, my love. Why are you hiding it from me?”

Hermes stilled for a moment, his wings shivering just slightly. But then he plastered on that forced mask, the one where his voice tried to carry its usual humor, but lacked its fullness. “Nothing’s wrong, Starlight. I’ve just been busy.” His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from Tiresias’s cheek. “You’ll find out soon enough. I promise.”

Tiresias hummed, their fingers still tracing over Hermes'. “Busy,” they echoed softly. His hand drifted up, brushing gently over the sagging feathers at Hermes' head. He could feel the way they tried to perk up and curl around his fingers as they usually did, basking in the attention, but today, they weakly fluttered, as if moving was too much. They frowned, caressing the limp wings. “But when, my sweet bird? You’re with me all day.”

Hermes faltered, just for a moment, his wings shuddering at the touch. “I’m just sneaky,” he teased, his voice airy. “You know me. The greatest trickster of all. Not even you can catch me.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Tiresias’s cheek. “You’ll see soon enough, I promise.”

Tiresias forced a smile, leaning into the kiss. But doubt lingered in his heart. Hermes was with him all day. Every moment. Tiresias could hear his footsteps, the flutter of his wings, the gentle swish of his robes. When, exactly, was he doing this work? The only time Hermes was alone was…night, Tiresias realized.

The thought nagged at them, creeping into the edges of their mind. But before they could say anything, Hermes had already begun another story, his voice bright and animated, hands gesturing wildly as he recounted some long-forgotten prank on Apollo. Tiresias let it slide, but the worry remained.

It happened two days later. They were walking along one of the familiar paths near Lethe, Tiresias’s hand resting lightly on Hermes' arm. The path was smooth, they took it often, the gentle hum of the river threading through the air. Hermes' wings flared occasionally, the tips brushing against Tiresias’s calves with each step. He frowned.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Tiresias murmured, his hand squeezing Hermes' arm gently. “Not tired, are you?”

Hermes chuckled, though the sound was weaker than usual. “Just distracted, darling. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” He tried to laugh it off, but his wings fluttered unsteadily, the movement uncoordinated and uneven.

Tiresias opened their mouth to respond, but before they could, Hermes stumbled. It wasn’t a small stumble, not like the others. His legs buckled, wings flapping wildly, feathers flaring around them as he collapsed. Tiresias lunged forward, catching him just before he hit the ground.

“Hermes!” Tiresias cried out, hands gripping his arms tightly. Hermes was panting, his breath coming in shallow bursts, wings sagging against his ankles and head. His eyes squeezed shut, and his hand flew to his head, fingers pressing hard against his temple.

“Tiresias,” Hermes' voice was thin, strained. “I’m…I’m fine. I just lost my balance.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened, their hands firm but gentle. “Hermes, you’re not fine. You can barely stand.” Their voice was soft but unyielding, and Hermes winced, the fight bleeding out of him.

“I…I might’ve been a bit distracted,” Hermes murmured, his wings drooping pitifully. His breath came in shallow bursts, his legs trembling under his weight.

“That’s enough.” Tiresias’s voice was resolute. “We’re going back to the cave. Come on.” Their hand slipped around Hermes' back, supporting his weight as they turned, guiding him carefully back up the path.

Hermes tried to protest, his wings flaring weakly. “I’m fine, Starlight. Really, I just. I tripped.”

“No,” Tiresias said gently, their tone allowing no argument. “You didn’t just trip. You nearly fell over. You can’t hold yourself up, my love.” Their hand was firm against Hermes' back, their staff tapping steadily against the ground as they walked. “We’re going back. No arguments.”

Hermes' wings fluttered half-heartedly, but there was no strength behind them. He nodded, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Alright,” he whispered. “Alright.”

Back in the cave, Tiresias settled Hermes gently on the couch, his hands firm but tender as they guided him down. Hermes slumped back, his head wings flapping pathetically, trying to act in a semblance of normalcy. A soft brush of his fingers stilled the wings, and Tiresias felt as the small things collapsed gratefully against Hermes’ head. Tiresias then knelt beside his partner, their hands finding his, squeezing gently.

“Hermes,” Tiresias began, their voice soft. “What’s going on?”

Hermes swallowed, his eyes falling shut. His wings fluttered slightly, brushing against the fabric of the couch. “I told you, I’ve been busy,” he whispered.

Tiresias’s brow furrowed. “Busy? Being busy doesn’t leave someone in such a state, my love. When have you been working on this thing that keeps you so busy, little bird?”

Hermes sighed, his hands coming up to rub his face. “I, I’ve been working on something. For you.” He swallowed hard. “At night. I didn’t, I didn’t think I needed to rest. I never needed to before. I didn’t think I could actually get tired.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched, and they reached out, their hand finding Hermes' cheek. “Oh, sweet bird,” he whispered, voice breaking slightly. “You’re not…You’re not a god anymore. Not right now. You need rest. Your body needs to recover.”

Hermes' eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, he truly felt the weight of exhaustion. “I didn’t realize,” he murmured. “I just wanted to do something for you.” His voice cracked, wings fluttering weakly.

Tiresias’s hand cupped his cheek, their thumb brushing gently beneath his eye. “You’re more than enough just as you are, my sweet bird. I need you to be well, though.” His voice was soft but firm. Tiresias hesitated, but then asked the question he feared the answer to.

“How long have you been forgoing rest, my love?” Hermes shrugged. He truly had no idea how long it had been.

“I started working on it the night after we visited Lethe. The day I hid from you.” 

“Hermes!” Tiresias’s voice was sharp. Hermes looked up at the prophet, finding their expression sharp with concern. “That was over a week ago. No wonder you can hardly keep yourself upright. My sweet bird, you’re exhausted.” Tiresias exclaimed. Hermes’ mind was moving too slowly to keep up. He just nodded against the prophet’s hand.

“You’re awfully pretty,” he sighed. “I wish I hadn’t upset you. I love you so much, and I hate that I’ve made you mad.” His sleep-addled brain said. Tiresias huffed.

“I’m not mad at you, my love. I’m just very worried. You need to sleep. For a good long while.” They said. “In fact, I’m ordering you. You are to sleep, Hermes. For as long as your body wants. Do not try to wake up, do not fret about the time you may be missing, you’re not missing it. I will be here until you wake. But until then, sleep.” Hermes frowned.

“Order me?” he rasped, his voice cracking. The words trembled with exhaustion, his wings fluttering half-heartedly at his ankles. His head wings still didn’t move more than a weak flop, mirroring the god’s exhaustion. 

But even as the words left his mouth, Tiresias heard the strain. The way Hermes' voice wavered, the way it thinned at the edges like a fraying thread. 

“I’m a god. Not a creature you can boss around.” Hermes stood, legs shaking, then his knee buckled. He fell back onto the couch. Tiresias sighed, reaching out and pulling the god to him. Their hand moved to cup his cheek, fingers brushing over the fine bones beneath Hermes' skin. He could feel the slight tremor there, the fatigue humming through the god’s very being.

“Your voice is shaking, little bird,” Tiresias whispered, his tone achingly soft. He let his thumb brush gently across Hermes' cheekbone, grounding him, tethering him back to the present. “You’re not as strong as you think you are right now. And that’s alright. You’re safe. You can rest. I’m here, sweet bird.”

Hermes blinked, and Tiresias felt the flutter of his lashes against his fingertips, delicate and trembling. Hermes tried to argue, to pull back, but Tiresias’s hands were steady, holding him with a tenderness that defied the god’s stubbornness. “You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Tiresias continued, his voice a whisper against the quiet of the cave. “I just want you to be alright.”

He slowly maneuvered Hermes to lie with his head in their lap, gently brushing his hair. “I am not ordering you out of anything but love. I am worried, little bird. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for too long. Give your body and your mind time to relax. Please, my love. Please.” Tiresias said softly, hand soothing Hermes’ muscles.

The fallen god tried to say something, to muster up a comeback, but his tongue felt too heavy to move. He opted for a grunt instead, but Tiresias’s hands lulled his mind. His eyes slowly drifted shut, and before long, sleep overtook him, pulling him into its soft, warm arms.

Tiresias held Hermes close, his hands ghosting over the god’s frame, memorizing the subtle lines and delicate dips. He had always known Hermes to be lithe and quick, flitting from place to place with the energy of a thousand storms. But now, held in his arms, Hermes felt fragile. Too light.

They ran their fingers through Hermes' hair, brushing away the curls that clung to his forehead, still damp with sweat. His hands moved gently, feeling each thread of tension that remained, coaxing it out with tender strokes. His own heart fluttered unsteadily, the familiar cadence of it disrupted by worry. Hermes hadn’t always been this delicate; there had been strength in his steps, a boundless energy that Tiresias could sense even without sight.

But now…Tiresias’s hand moved to Hermes' wrist, fingers wrapping around it with care. His thumb brushed over the god’s pulse, feeling the steady thrum beneath his skin, too faint, too slow. Tiresias swallowed back the ache in his throat, a whisper of fear curling at the edges of his thoughts. He had never known Hermes to falter, not like this.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice cracking just slightly. His hand moved back to Hermes' hair, smoothing back the stray strands that tickled his cheeks. The motion was rhythmic, repetitive, meant as much to calm Tiresias as it was to soothe Hermes. “Just stay with me.”

~~~~

Hermes woke slowly, the fog of sleep clinging to him like mist over a river. His eyes blinked open, sluggish and heavy, the world coming into focus one hazy outline at a time. The cave ceiling stretched above him, familiar and comforting, the shadows cast by the fire dancing lazily across the stone. He inhaled deeply, the smell of herbs and firewood filling his lungs. It was warm, warmer than usual. He shifted slightly and found a weight resting against him, soft and steady.

Tiresias.

Hermes blinked again, his vision sharpening just enough to see Tiresias leaning beside him, their head resting against the back of the couch, arms wrapped protectively around him. Their breathing was even, lips parted just slightly as they dozed. Hermes' eyes softened, a small, fond smile creeping onto his face. He hadn’t even realized Tiresias had been holding him, but of course he was. Tiresias was always there.

Carefully, he moved his hands, noting with some surprise that they were no longer trembling. His wings twitched, and he braced himself for that familiar ache that had been present all week, but it didn’t come. His wings felt light. His whole body felt light, actually. Weary, yes, like he’d run for miles, but there wasn’t that bone-deep exhaustion he’d grown accustomed to over the past week.

He shifted again, just slightly, and Tiresias stirred. Their brow furrowed just slightly, and their hand moved instinctively to Hermes' chest, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his tunic. “You’re awake,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. Their hand stilled, and Hermes watched as their expression softened. “How are you feeling, little bird?”

Hermes blinked, taking a moment to really assess himself. He stretched his wings out carefully, testing them. They flared gracefully, brushing softly against Tiresias’s robes below him, before folding back neatly. “Better,” he admitted, voice rasping slightly. “A lot better.”

Tiresias hummed, their fingers tracing slow, gentle circles over Hermes' chest, grounding him. “I’m glad,” they whispered. “You slept for a long time.”

Hermes blinked again, his brow furrowing. “How long?”

Tiresias shifted slightly, adjusting to sit up straighter, but still holding Hermes close. “Three days,” he answered, voice soft but steady.

Hermes' wings flared out in shock, smacking into Tiresias. “Three days?” he repeated, voice cracking with disbelief. “I-I slept for three days?”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound warm and soft. “You did. And you needed it. When was the last time you actually slept properly, my sweet bird?”

Hermes opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned, wings twitching as he thought. “I, I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I didn’t think I needed to. I never used to,” His voice trailed off, his expression crumpling slightly.

Tiresias’s hand found his cheek, grounding him with the gentle pressure. “I know, Hermes,” he murmured, voice a whisper. “But things are different now. Your body needs rest. It needs care.” Their hand moved, brushing over the feathers on his head, smoothing them gently. “I don’t want you to push yourself like that again. Please, for me?”

Hermes' wings fluttered, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. “But I was, I was working on something important. For you.” His voice softened on the last two words, eyes dropping to his lap.

Tiresias smiled, his hand moving down to cup Hermes' cheek again, thumb brushing beneath his eye. “I know, my love. I know you were. But I would rather have you here, well and healthy, than have anything you could make for me.” His voice was steady, full of quiet conviction. “I am touched by the fact that you want to make me something. I am truly honored, but more than that, I want you well, Hermes. I want you to be safe with me.”

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly, his gaze lifting to meet Tiresias’s. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Hermes' forehead. “I will always worry for you,” he murmured. “Because I love you. Because you matter to me.” Their hand gently ran through his hair, brushing some of the knots out. “And because I want you here. For as long as I can have you.”

Hermes' breath stilled in his chest, eyes going wide. His wings fluttered with a delicate shiver, and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “I promise,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I won’t do it again.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands tracing slow, grounding circles along Hermes' back. “Good,” they murmured, their voice soft but firm. “From now on, you sleep. Every night. No more sneaking off, no more pushing yourself until you fall. I need you well.” Their voice wavered just slightly, the concern threading through his words.

Hermes nodded, his wings brushing softly against Tiresias’s calves. “Okay,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I promise.”

Tiresias leaned forward, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Hermes' brow. “That’s all I ask,” he whispered, voice filled with warmth. Their hand traced along his cheek, brushing back stray curls. “Rest for me, little bird. Your body needs to sleep.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes slipping shut. He leaned into Tiresias’s touch, his wings trembling just slightly as he exhaled. “I will,” he promised again. “I will.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands slipping back to rest over Hermes' heart, feeling the steady thrum of it beneath their fingertips. “Good,” he whispered. “Because I need you here with me.”

Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I promise.”

They stayed like that for a long time, the fire crackling gently in the hearth, shadows dancing along the stone walls. Tiresias’s hands never left Hermes', grounding him, holding him steady. Comforted by his steady hands, Hermes drifted back into a deep, needed sleep.

Hermes slept soundly, body and mind exhausted from how hard he’d been pushing himself. Tiresias moved them to their bed that night. Gently carrying the sleeping god to the bedroom, changing his clothes into more comfortable attire, and then settling into bed, cradling Hermes close. They would let Hermes sleep as long as he needed, and Tiresias hadn’t seen any visitors coming for the next while. 

However, the next day, Tiresias heard footsteps outside the cave. They were familiar. Heavy, calculated, and powerful. Hades. They adjusted Hermes, careful not to wake him, and slowly rose, brushing a soft kiss to the messenger’s head. 

Tiresias grabbed their staff and quietly walked out to where the King of the Dead waited patiently.

“Lord Hades,” he murmured, bowing low. 

“Prophet of Thebes,” Hades greeted with warmth in his tone.

“My lord, I hope I do not offend with this request, but Hermes is sleeping in the other room. If I may, I request that we keep our voices low. He needs this rest, and I don’t want to wake him.” Tiresias asked.

“You do not offend, Tiresias,” Hades’ voice lowered to a hush, respecting the prophet’s request, “I appreciate your care and concern for him. Is he alright?”

Tiresias sighed, staff warm in their hand, “He will be, but I worry. He kept himself awake for over a week working on a project he won’t tell me about.”

“A week should be no issue for an Olympian,” Hades said, voice measured, though a hint of confusion and concern crept in. Tiresias frowned.

“You forget, my lord, that Hermes isn’t an Olympian right now. His punishment changed his being. While he may still be divine in the most basic sense, his body does not function the same. It now relies on rest to give him energy. He did not understand this either and pushed himself too hard.” Tiresias explained.

“He did not do this on purpose?” Hades asked, and Tiresias could hear the relief in his voice.

“I do not believe so, Lord Hades. I believe he simply didn’t understand that sleep was required for him.” Tiresias said. Softly, Tiresias heard Hermes stirring in the bedroom.

“Starlight?” They heard him call. Soft footsteps soon followed, accompanied by the restless flutter of feathers.

Tiresias turned, forgetting that the King of the Underworld stood before him, a smile on their face. “I’m here, little bird.” He bid softly.

Hermes blinked sleepily, finding Tiresias and wrapping his arms around him, nuzzling into their neck. “You were gone,” he murmured. “I woke up and you were gone.” Tiresias wrapped his arms around Hermes, gently rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to worry you.” They softly assured the messenger.

“Why’d you leave?” Hermes asked, yawning softly. Tiresias froze, remembering why they’d left and who was in the room. 

Hades stood watching the two, a soft smile on his face.

“I’m afraid it’s my fault, nephew. I didn’t mean to disturb your rest.” The god spoke softly. Hermes stiffened, any remaining sleepiness immediately leaving. He turned slowly, stepping out of his partner’s arms. Tiresias’s hand quickly found his and laced their fingers, gently grounding Hermes.

“Uncle Hades?” Hermes whispered.

“Hermes. It’s good to see you. I’m sorry–” Hades was cut off by Hermes’ arms wrapping tightly around him. Startled for only a moment, Hades returned the gesture, holding the fallen god close.

“I’m sorry, Hermes. I should have come sooner. Despite what Zeus commanded, I should have been here for you sooner.” Hades murmured.

A soft sob wracked through the messenger. Hades gently soothed him. “I know. It’s been so hard for you, so scary. You’ve been so strong, nephew, so brave. I’m so, so proud of you, Hermes. So proud.” With those words, Hermes broke. He shuddered and finally allowed the tears to fall. 

Hermes cried. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been affected by his family’s forced negligence. He’d been hurt by Athena’s reaction and her abrupt departure. He knew how dangerous it would have been for anyone to come visit, but he’d held on hope that maybe, just maybe, Apollo would find him. But he hadn’t let himself feel the true weight of missing his family until now. Until he was being held and comforted by his uncle.

Nobody said anything, Hermes just let himself be held and comforted, knowing that this moment could easily be broken, that Hades could easily leave, that Zeus could even step in and stop it. So Hermes let himself be comforted and let himself cry.

He didn’t hear Tiresias walk away, giving the two privacy. Letting them have their moment. 

Hermes cried until he had no more tears to cry. Until his body was too exhausted for more.

“Uncle Hades,” he whispered. The god didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. His wings fluttered, feathers matted from sleep, still recovering from their exhaustion. Hades noticed their messy state, eyes falling on the clipped ends. He knew of Hermes’ punishment, but to see it, to be faced with the reality and severity of it, was far more heartbreaking.

“Hermes,” he said softly, fingers brushing the wings. Hermes shuddered.

“I know they’re not the prettiest anymore, but I’ve learned to accept them as they are,” he whispered. 

“They are still lovely, nephew, because they are a part of you,” Hades reassured, earning a smile from Hermes, all of his wings flaring in pride. He winced slightly as some of the feathers that had tangled while he slept tugged against each other. He made a note to ask Tiresias for help preening later.

“I’m very glad to see you, Uncle. Please don’t misunderstand, but why are you here? Isn’t it dangerous for you to do this? My father made it clear that I am to receive no help or contact from the gods.” Hermes asked. Hades sighed.

“I admit, his command kept me from visiting you until today. While he can’t punish me too harshly, lest this realm fall into disarray without a leader, I try to stay on his good side. However, I should have made an exception for this, nephew. I know how hurt you’ve been, and I should have been here for you sooner.” Hades said softly. 

Hades’ gaze softened as he took in the god before him. Hermes looked different. He was thinner, maybe even more fragile, but there was a fire in his eyes that had not been extinguished. His wings fluttered softly at his ankles and by his head, feathers still slightly tangled but more vibrant than Hades had expected. He reached out, resting a hand on Hermes’ shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m proud of you, Hermes,” Hades murmured, voice soft but firm. “You’ve survived what would have broken most. Not just the physical, but the loneliness, the ache of being pushed aside by those who call themself family.” His gaze was steady, unyielding. “You have done more than survive; you have found a way to thrive. That takes strength. True strength.”

Hermes blinked, his wings shivering slightly at the words. He looked up at his uncle, expression wavering between disbelief and hope. “I don’t feel strong,” he admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. “I feel like I’m barely holding on.”

Hades’ hand moved to cup the side of Hermes’ face, thumb brushing just beneath his eye. “That’s the thing about strength, nephew. It’s not always bold or loud. Sometimes, it’s the quiet endurance. It’s choosing to wake up each day despite the weight pressing down on you.” He offered a small, genuine smile. “And you’ve done that. You’ve kept going.”

Hermes swallowed hard, eyes growing glassy. “I don’t…I didn’t think anyone saw that.”

“Oh, we see,” Hades assured him. “Even from a distance, we see. Apollo, Athena, myself, and especially Tiresias. You’re not alone. And you’re not forgotten, Hermes. Not by me.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing gently against Hades’ arm. “But, if Zeus finds out–”

Hades held up a hand, his expression firm. “Don’t worry about me, little nephew. You have enough to worry about with yourself. I’ve handled Zeus for centuries. He can do little to hurt me.” His voice was calm, steady, and unyielding. “Focus on yourself. Let me handle him.”

Hermes opened his mouth to protest, but Hades shook his head, a warm smile touching his lips. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “I know how to navigate his temper. I always have.”

Hermes bit his lip but nodded, his wings giving a gentle flutter. “Thank you for coming. For being here.”

Hades' hand lingered for a moment longer before dropping back to his side. “You’re family, Hermes. Always.” He stepped back, nodding respectfully to Tiresias, who had reentered the room with a soft smile. “I’ll be back when I can. But for now, rest. Heal. Take care of yourself.”

Hermes watched him go, wings fluttering softly as Hades disappeared down the winding path back to his palace. Tiresias’s hand found his, lacing their fingers together, grounding him back in the present.

“He’s right, you know,” Tiresias whispered, voice gentle. “You are strong.”

Hermes smiled, leaning into Tiresias’s touch. “I’m trying to be.”

“And you are,” Tiresias murmured, pressing a kiss to Hermes' forehead. “You always have been.”

Notes:

Poor Hermes keeps forgetting that he isn't a god right now. And Hades? Yes!!! Hermes definitely needed that.

I hope you enjoyed!

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 22

Summary:

Really, this is just a soft, sweet chapter for them

“How are you feeling, my love? How was your rest?” Tiresias asked, gently pulling the god into their arms. Hermes let out a contented sigh.

“Better. Much better.” He whispered.

“Good. And remember, you will be sleeping every night from now on. If you’d like time to work on your project alone, you only have to ask. Please do not sacrifice your health anymore.” Tiresias said. Hermes frowned.

“I truly didn’t mean to, darling. I’ve never needed sleep before. I didn’t even consider that I may need to now.” Tiresias just hummed, accepting the answer. His hands ran through Hermes’ hair, brushing past the small wings that were lazily swaying. Hermes frowned, though it went unnoticed by Tiresias.

“They’re so much more lively now. I should have noticed their lack of energy sooner.” Tiresias murmured. “You wouldn’t have ended up in such a state.” His hands continued to brush past the wings.

They itched. A small thing, but it nagged. Hermes could feel how a few of the feathers had tangled together while he slept. They had been unable to flick dust or dirt out over the week when they’d been too exhausted to move. Now, Hermes was feeling the results. They itched. The ones at his ankles were no better; in fact, they were worse, almost painful. He knew there were blades of grass and clumps of dirt lodged between the soft feathers, tangled in knots from when he stumbled.

Hermes shifted uncomfortably, his frown deepening when Tiresias’s hands made another brush past his wings. The poor things longed for comfort, for relief. They itched.
 
“Something wrong, little bird?” Tiresias asked, feeling the god stiffen. His voice was gentle, fingertips stilling where they were tangled in Hermes' curls.

Hermes hesitated, then his wings gave a soft flicker, trying to reach out to Tiresias’s careful fingers. “They itch,” he admitted, voice just above a whisper. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out thin, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even realize until just now. I suppose I haven’t exactly taken care of them.”

“Your wings?” Tiresias asked. Hermes nodded.

“Yeah. Would you,” he paused, almost ashamed to ask. “Would you mind helping me preen them? You don’t have to, of course. They are my wings after all suffering from my negligence–” He rambled.

“Hermes.” Tiresias gently interrupted, hands moving to caress the small wings. “I would be glad to help you preen them, sweet bird. Come on, let’s get you settled, nice and comfy, so I can begin.” They murmured, leading Hermes to the pillow nest in front of the fire. He gently sat Hermes down, settling behind him.

Tiresias’s hands moved with the utmost care, fingertips brushing against the delicate feathers atop Hermes’ head. The god flinched at first, his wings had always been so sensitive, but Tiresias’s touch was impossibly gentle. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, alright?” they murmured, voice barely above a breath.

“You’re not,” Hermes whispered back, leaning ever so slightly into the touch.

With the softest of touches, Tiresias’s fingers began working through the feathers, careful and deliberate. He moved slowly, untangling the small knots that had formed, brushing away the fine dust that had settled over time. The wings twitched occasionally, feathers shivering under the sensation, but Hermes didn’t pull away.

“That feels wonderful, Starlight,” he murmured. Tiresias smiled.

“I’m glad, little bird.” He pressed a kiss to the base of the wing he was working on, a soft gasp leaving Hermes. Tiresias kissed the spot again, grinning when he got the same reaction, the wing twitching softly beneath their fingers.

“Stop teasing me,” Hermes pouted. Tiresias laughed.

“Sorry, sorry, my love. I just love your wings.” He said, continuing to gently work through the feathers.

Hermes closed his eyes, his breathing slowing. It was almost hypnotic, the rhythm of Tiresias’s hands, the delicate brushing of feathers. He felt the knots come undone one by one, and with each gentle pass of Tiresias’s hands, the itch began to fade, replaced by soft relief.

“There we are,” Tiresias murmured after a while, finishing the first wing. “You really have been neglecting them, my sweet bird.” His hands moved to the other side of his head, fingers beginning to smooth out those feathers with the same softness and care.

Hermes shrugged. “I didn’t even realize,” he admitted, voice small. “I suppose I just got used to them feeling like this.”

A frown tugged at Tiresias’s lips, their hands pausing just long enough to brush gently along the edge of the wing. “That won’t do,” he whispered, voice filled with gentle resolve. “These wings of yours are beautiful. You deserve for them to feel that way.”

Hermes' wings fluttered at the compliment, brushing gently against Tiresias’s hands. “You think they’re beautiful?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, his cheeks dusted with the faintest blush.

“Of course I do,” Tiresias said, fingers resuming their gentle work, smoothing out the remaining tangles. “They’re part of you. They always have been, and they always will be. That makes them beautiful.”

Hermes bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut as Tiresias continued to work, hands impossibly gentle, impossibly tender. He felt the last of the dust brushed away, the tangles gently coaxed into place. Tiresias’s hands moved with such care that Hermes almost forgot to breathe. 

When Tiresias finished with the wings at his head, a sigh of relief left the god, the itch having gone, replaced by lightness and comfort. His ankle wings began twitching, demanding attention, sending small jolts of discomfort through Hermes, who grimaced.

Tiresias, ever perceptive, heard the distressed fluttering and smiled softly. “Would you like help with the ones at your ankles too?” he asked.

Hermes blinked, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “They’re, well, they’re a bit worse,” he admitted, voice sheepish. “I, um. I think there’s grass in them. Maybe dirt too.” He tried to laugh it off, but Tiresias only hummed thoughtfully.

“Let me see,” Tiresias murmured. They repositioned themself at Hermes’ feet, gently reaching towards the fluttering wings. “May I?” he asked again.

“Please,” Hermes whispered.

With practiced care, Tiresias gently felt the small wings that flared delicately from his ankles. He frowned, feeling just how much worse shape they were in than the messenger’s head wings. Hermes flinched slightly, seeing the prophet’s reaction, the wings twitching nervously at the sudden attention. But Tiresias gently murmured soft reassurances, fingers brushing gently over the delicate frame.

“Oh, my sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, voice laced with the softest affection. His fingers moved delicately through the feathers, brushing out tiny blades of grass and flecks of dirt that had gotten caught between them. His touch was impossibly light, fingertips smoothing out the tangles with the same care he had shown before.

Hermes shuddered, his wings fluttering softly under Tiresias’s touch. “Gods,” he whispered, “that feels so nice, my love,” he admitted, voice breathy and unsteady.

Tiresias chuckled, his hands moving with practiced grace. “I’m glad,” he whispered. “You deserve to feel taken care of, my love.”

They continued to work in silence, the fire crackling softly behind them, the rhythm of their touch steady and calming. He would occasionally brush his thumb over the edges of Hermes' wings, gently soothing the wings when they seemed distressed.

“These ones are a lot more reactive,” Tiresias observed. Hermes nodded.

“They’re more sensitive,” he explained. “My head wings get more sensitive when I get more emotional. I’ve never quite understood why, but they do.” He shrugged, continuing. “These ones have always been sensitive. I can feel every brush against them, every time they flicker, I can feel the air between the feathers. I can even feel the smallest shift in the winds when I fly.” Tiresias smiled, gently caressing the wing, feeling it flutter at the attention.

“So small, yet so important.” He then fixed his gaze on Hermes, silver orbs staring straight through Hermes. “Things of such importance should never be neglected like this.” 

Hermes chuckled weakly. “I know, I know. I messed up. I won’t let it happen again.”

Tiresias nodded. “I’ll be holding you to that, little bird.”

He picked out tiny twigs, dusted away stubborn flecks of dirt, and straightened the feathers one by one. Gently soothing away the relentless itch.

Hermes felt himself relax further with each touch, his wings swaying gently, almost lazily now. “I never thought,” he murmured, voice soft. “I never thought anyone would do this for me anymore. Not to this extent. Pollo used to help me, but no one else did.” His voice cracked just slightly at the end, and Tiresias’s hands paused.

“Oh, little bird,” Tiresias whispered, voice warm and heavy with affection. His fingers resumed their gentle work, smoothing over the soft feathers. “I would do this for you every day if you asked. You deserve this care.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears, but he didn’t pull away. He just let himself feel the care, the tenderness, the love that poured from Tiresias’s touch.

When Tiresias finally finished, he straightened up, moving closer to Hermes’ side. “There we are,” they murmured, voice soft. His hands moved back to cup Hermes' cheeks, fingers brushing along the smooth skin. “How do you feel?”

Hermes' wings fluttered gently, his eyes bright and glossy. “I feel…lighter,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I forgot they could feel this nice. They haven’t in so long.”

Tiresias smiled, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to his brow. “I’m glad.”

Hermes let out a breath, wings fluttering softly, almost playfully, brushing against Tiresias’s temples. For the first time in ages, they felt clean, free of knots and grime. He didn’t realize how much that simple act would mean until it happened.

Tiresias leaned back, his hands still gently cupping Hermes’ face. “Would you like me to do this for you more often?” they asked softly.

Hermes' wings flared with soft pride, seeming to beg the god to agree. “I, please,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “I think I would.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands squeezing gently. “Then it’s settled. From now on, I’ll take care of you, little bird. Just like I promised.”

“Thank you, my Starlight. Thank you for caring for me.” Hermes whispered. Tiresias nestled into his side.

“Anything for you, my love.”

Hermes opened his eyes, the glow of the fire flickering softly in the reflection of his gaze. He was quiet for a moment, wings shifting idly at his ankles, brushing against Tiresias’s leg. “Seeing Hades…it meant a lot,” he murmured, voice softer than usual.

Tiresias tilted their head. His hand rested over Hermes’ curling just slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Did it?” they asked.

Hermes nodded, eyes fixed on the flickering flames. “I didn’t realize how much I missed him. How much I missed just being held by my old family.” His voice trailed off, wings fluttering nervously, reflecting the god’s anxious feelings. Tiresias gently ran his fingers along the base of one wing, soothing the restless flapping. 

Hermes swallowed hard, eyes slipping shut, letting Tiresias ground him. “I’d gotten so used to the idea that none of them would come. That they wouldn’t even try. I thought I’d made my peace with it, but,” he swallowed again, his hand gripping Tiresias’s just a little tighter. “I hadn’t. Not really.”

Tiresias’s hand moved from his wing to his cheek, soothing him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, voice thick with warmth. “You shouldn’t have had to feel that way.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, his wings fluttering softly. “I didn’t realize how much it hurt until he was there. Holding me. Calling me ‘nephew’ again.” His breath stuttered, the wings at his ankles shivering just slightly. “I’ve missed him. I’ve missed all of them. I even miss my father, though I resent him for doing this to me.” He gestured at his wings, feeling them shift away from the accusing hand. He sighed. “Even though he cast me out, he’s still my father. I wish he could hate him. I wish I could be mad, but I can’t even do that. I-I just miss them.”

Tiresias’s thumb brushed tenderly across his cheek, the motion slow and grounding. “I know you have,” he murmured. “I could hear it every time you talked about them. Even when you try to hide it.” His hand cupped Hermes' face, fingers gentle against the curve of his jaw. “You don’t have to hide it anymore, little bird. Not from me.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he blinked rapidly, fighting the sting that had begun to build behind his eyes. “I just didn’t want you to think,” He swallowed, wings curling tighter against his calves. “I didn’t want you to think I regretted being here. That I regretted staying with you.” His voice broke on the last word, and Tiresias’s grip on him tightened.

“Oh, Hermes,” Tiresias whispered, their voice trembling slightly. “I never thought that, and I never would think that. Not for a moment.” They leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his brow. “I know how much they mean to you. I know what it must have cost to be separated from them. But you are still here with me. You chose to be with me. That is enough. You are allowed to miss them, to long for their comfort. You are allowed to hurt. I could never resent you for that. I am honored every day you choose to stay. I know how hard everything is for you, do not worry about upsetting me for wanting comfort from your family.”

Hermes leaned forward, his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder, wings fluttering slightly with the motion. “He said he was proud of me,” he murmured, voice muffled against Tiresias’s robes, and he felt Tiresias’s arms hold him just a little tighter. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. How much I–” His voice broke, and Tiresias’s arms came around him, steady and sure.

“You deserve to hear it every day,” Tiresias whispered, his hands running gentle circles over Hermes' back. “You’ve been so strong, my love. So brave.” Their hands slipped up to his wings, brushing over the soft feathers gently. “I am so proud of you, too.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he clutched Tiresias a little tighter. “You are?”

“I always have been,” Tiresias whispered, voice warm and steady. “You have done more than just survive, Hermes. You’re healing. You’ve grown. You’ve chosen kindness, even when you had every reason not to.” His fingers brushed tenderly through his hair, smoothing out the knots. “I’m proud of you every day.” Hermes closed his eyes, his wings trembling with emotion.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “For everything.”

Tiresias’s hands continued their slow, tender movements, brushing through his hair, smoothing out every last tangle. “You never have to thank me, little bird,” they murmured, voice soft and full of love. “I am just happy that you are here. That you are mine for as long as I can call you that.”

“Forever. I want to be yours forever, Starlight.” Hermes whispered. Tiresias pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

“Forever, then. I, your Starlight, and you, my little bird. My sweet, brave Hermes.” Tiresias whispered. This time, when Hermes shuddered, he did not try to hold back his tears. He let himself cry, let himself be pulled into Tiresias’s arms, pulled against their warm chest. He let himself feel the pain and let it move past.

“My Starlight,” he murmured into the prophet’s robes.

“Sweet bird,” they whispered back with reverence.

~~~~

The fire crackled softly, casting long, flickering shadows against the stone walls. Its warmth spilled across the room, pooling around the nest of blankets where the two had settled. Tiresias had fallen asleep, the scarf Hermes handmade for them clutched gently in their hands, their head tilted to the side, features softened with the gentleness that only came with sleep. The firelight danced across their skin, catching in their hair, making them look almost ethereal, like something carved out of moonlight and shadow.

Hermes watched them for a long while, wings fluttering softly at his ankles and brushing the curls by his ears. His gaze softened, a fond smile curling at the edges of his mouth. Tiresias always looked so peaceful when he slept, the lines of worry smoothed away, leaving only peaceful content behind. Hermes' fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to brush a stray curl from their face, but he held back, not wanting to wake him.

He should rest. He knew that. He had promised Tiresias he would sleep, that he would let his body recover and heal. But the firelight flickered, catching his eye, and his gaze drifted to the small chest by the hearth. His heart fluttered, wings giving an excited flick. Just a little more, he reasoned with himself. Just a bit. I’ll be careful this time.

Hermes pushed himself up from the blanket nest with a practiced grace, wings flaring out just slightly to balance his movement. He glanced back at Tiresias, still fast asleep, their breathing even and steady. He hesitated, guilt flaring up in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the yearning. That burning desire to create something perfect for him.

He moved silently, soft as a whisper, crossing the room to the wooden chest. His fingers brushed over the lid before he lifted it carefully, the hinges barely creaking. Inside, the tapestry lay folded neatly, threads gleaming faintly in the firelight. Hermes' breath hitched as he pulled it out, the soft fabric sliding over his hands. His fingers traced the outlines of the work he had done. The firelight flickering against the stone walls, the bundles of herbs Tiresias had carefully organized in the small cabinet, the blanket nest the two of them had so carefully arranged, and the soft couch near the back of the room. But it was the empty space in the center that called to him. The place where they belonged, nestled in that blanket nest.

That was all that was missing, them. It just needed the souls that lived together.

His heart thrummed with anticipation as he began to stitch, settling himself carefully on the floor. He arranged the tapestry before him, smoothing it out with practiced hands. His wings flared slightly, brushing against his ankles as he got comfortable, fingers already reaching for the thread and needle. He didn’t even feel tired, not right now. He just felt alive.

Hermes worked in silence, the only sounds the soft crackling of the fire and the whisper of thread sliding through fabric. His hands moved with practiced grace, needle slipping in and out, weaving the story into place. He worked on detailing the nest first, stitching in the soft folds of the blankets, the way they tangled together in perfect disarray. He wove in the texture of Tiresias’s scarf, the one Hermes always draped over their shoulders when the chill of the Underworld crept in.

But it was when he started on them, the two figures curled into each other, tangled up in warmth and comfort, that Hermes’ hands began to shake, with emotion or exhaustion, he didn’t know. His wings flared slightly, brushing against his calves, but he didn’t stop. He wove in the gentle curve of Tiresias’s hands, the way they always cradled him, so tender and so sure. He stitched in his own wings, tiny and fluttering, curling and flaring just right. His fingers moved with delicate care, capturing the softness of their features, the peace in their expressions, the way they fit so perfectly together.

Hours slipped by, unnoticed and uncounted. The fire burned low, the embers casting long shadows that flickered and danced, but Hermes didn’t stop. His wings drooped slightly, feathers sagging with fatigue, but he kept going. The tapestry grew under his hands, thread by thread, until the image came alive with startling clarity.

He didn’t realize he was crying until the first drop splashed onto the fabric, blooming dark against the fabric. Hermes blinked, his hand coming up to touch his cheek, fingers brushing away the moisture. He let out a soft, breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Sentimental fool,” he murmured to himself, but his hands kept moving, fingers steady despite the tremor that had begun to settle in his bones.

It wasn’t until the candle he’d lit hours before flickered out, the flame sputtering its last breath, that Hermes finally stilled. His fingers hovered over the tapestry, eyes scanning the work he had done. His breath caught in his throat, wings trembling softly at his sides. It was…them. 

The woven nest by the fire, the way their forms curled into each other, Tiresias’s hand brushing softly over his head wings, Hermes’ arms wrapped gently around their form. The firelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows that seemed to dance over the tapestry’s surface. It looked real.

Hermes sat back, his wings sagging with the weight of exhaustion he hadn’t realized had settled in. His fingers ached, the tips raw and red from the hours of work, but he didn’t mind. Not when it looked like this. Not when it felt like them.

He leaned back against the wall, breathing softly. His wings twitched tiredly, feathers limp with fatigue, but his heart swelled with pride. He’d done it. He’d finally captured them, the way he saw them, the way he felt them. And it was perfect.

Hermes closed his eyes, just for a moment, the image of the tapestry burned into his mind. His ankle wings sagged further, drooping against the cold stone floor. He pulled himself up, carefully tucking the tapestry away, cleaning up the thread and any remnant of his night before Tiresias woke up. 

He knew there was more work to be done. The edges needed to be cleaned up, and a border needed to be stitched in. A few smaller details would be added here and there. But that was a job for another night. Now, he needed sleep.

He leaned against the wall, the project cleaned up. This time, he understood the exhaustion he felt, his body’s desperate craving for sleep. He would rejoin Tiresias before they woke, he decided; he just needed a moment, eyes heavy.

But the weight of exhaustion was heavier than he realized, pulling him down, dragging him under. His breathing evened out, and he slowly slid to the floor, his wings fluttering softly before going still.

In the dim light of the dying fire, Hermes slept, the image of him and Tiresias frozen in time, tangled up in warmth and comfort, woven in thread and love.

The fire had long since dwindled to embers, casting soft, fading light across the stone walls. Tiresias woke slowly, the chill of the Underworld brushing against their skin now that the blankets had been pushed aside. Their hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing across cool sheets where warmth should have been. He stilled, breath catching for just a moment.

“Hermes?” he called, voice soft and laced with sleep. There was no answer, just the quiet crackle of the last embers and the gentle hum of the cave. Tiresias sat up, their hand smoothing over the spot where Hermes had been when they fell asleep, feeling the slight dip in the blankets, the warmth that should have been there long faded. He listened intently, straining to catch the flutter of wings, the whisper of movement, anything, but the cave was still.

Concern pricked at his chest, and he reached for their staff, its familiar weight grounding him. Slowly, he rose to his feet, the soft tap of the staff against the stone steadying his steps. The air felt still, heavy with silence. Tiresias breathed out, slow and controlled, and began his path forward.

His fingers trailed along the stone walls, familiar grooves and indentations marking the way. “Hermes?” they tried again, voice firmer this time, but still no response. They reached out, brushing fingertips against the wooden chest near the far end of the room, the soft weave of the blankets still folded atop it. Their hand drifted down, brushing the cool surface of the floor, and then–

Their fingers met fabric, soft and warm from the body within. Tiresias stilled, their hand moving slowly, brushing over the familiar folds of Hermes' robes. A shiver ran down their spine, and he knelt carefully, the weight of the staff clattering gently to the side.

“Hermes?” His voice cracked just slightly, and they reached forward, fingers grazing over his shoulder. The god was curled up against the wall, shivering, his wings drooping with fatigue, the feathers brushing the stone floor with a delicate whisper. He was still, his breathing soft and even, but Tiresias could feel the exhaustion that lingered in every inch of his frame.

“Oh, little bird,” Tiresias whispered, their hand coming to rest against Hermes’ cheek. They traced gentle patterns, feeling the softness of his skin, the faint tremble in his breath. Hermes stirred under the touch, a soft hum escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake. His wings shivered slightly, brushing against Tiresias’s knee. The feathers were soft but ragged at the edges, like they’d been battered by a restless wind.

Tiresias’s hand moved, brushing gently over the wings. He traced the curve of each feather, feeling the way they fluttered weakly under his fingertips. Hermes shifted, leaning into the touch even in his sleep, his wings stretching just slightly before settling back down.

Tiresias frowned, the lines of worry deepening in their expression. They leaned closer, brushing a hand gently through the curls that framed Hermes’ face. “You promised me, little bird,” they whispered, voice trembling with both affection and concern. “You promised me you would rest.”

His hands moved slowly, brushing the hair back from Hermes’ face, fingertips mapping out the familiar lines of his features. The curve of his cheek, the gentle slope of his brow, the softness of his lips; all things Tiresias knew by touch, by heart. But there was a fragility there now, a weariness that had settled into his bones, and Tiresias felt the weight of it like a stone in their chest.

They took a breath, steadying themself before their hands moved further, trailing down to Hermes' ankle wings. Their fingertips brushed over the delicate feathers, noting the way they drooped, heavy with exhaustion. There was a faint tremble when Tiresias touched them, a shiver of sensation that whispered of tenderness and fatigue. Tiresias’s fingers were impossibly gentle, brushing over the dust and dirt that had settled into the feathers. He made a mental note to help Hermes preen later, knowing how quickly the small wings got uncomfortable, but first, Hermes needed rest. 

Tiresias leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, the touch feather-light. “Come now, little bird,” he whispered, voice steady and firm. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Their hands slipped beneath Hermes’ arms and legs, pulling him into his arms with careful ease. Hermes murmured something unintelligible, wings fluttering in protest, but Tiresias shushed him gently, pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Hush, sweet bird. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

They carried him back to the nest of blankets, and Tiresias settled him down gently, smoothing out the blankets and tucking him in with practiced care. His hands brushed along his forehead, smoothing back the stray strands of hair, fingertips tracing slow, soothing patterns along his brow.

“There we are,” Tiresias whispered, voice soft and full of warmth. “Just rest now, my love.” They leaned down, pressing another soft kiss to his temple. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Hermes murmured something again, barely a breath of sound, but Tiresias heard it. A soft whisper of their name, a flicker of a smile on the god’s lips. They stayed for a long moment, just brushing their hand along his hair, grounding themself in the rise and fall of his breathing.

Finally, Tiresias leaned back, fingers lingering on Hermes' cheek for just a moment longer. “We’ll talk about this later,” they murmured, voice gentle but firm. “But for now, just rest, little bird. I won’t let you fall again.”

Tiresias settled down beside him, hand still resting on the messenger’s arm as they fell back asleep.

~~~~

Hermes woke slowly, his mind drifting back to consciousness like bubbles resurfacing. His wings fluttered softly against the blankets, brushing the fabric with delicate whispers of sound. He blinked, the world coming into hazy focus, warmth from the fire pooling around him in gentle waves.

It took him a moment to remember where he was, curled up in the nest of blankets, his head resting on a pillow that smelled faintly of lavender and firewood. Hermes blinked again, eyes adjusting to the flickering light, and that’s when he saw Tiresias.

The prophet was seated beside him, legs folded neatly beneath him, hand resting gently on Hermes' arm. Tiresias’s head turned slightly, unseeing eyes fixed on him as if they knew the moment Hermes had stirred.

“Good morning, little bird,” they murmured, voice soft and tender. Their hand moved slightly, brushing the fabric of Hermes' sleeve. “How are you feeling?”

Hermes blinked, stretching his wings slightly. They flared just a little before tucking back against his calves, the feathers brushing softly against the blankets as his headwings flitted about happily. “I’m,” he paused, registering the ache in his hands, the way his shoulders felt stiff and tired. He frowned. “I’m alright, I guess, just sore.”

Tiresias hummed, the sound soft and knowing. Their fingers traced slow, soothing patterns over Hermes' arm. “I imagine you are,” he replied, voice laced with gentle understanding. “You were working for quite some time last night, weren’t you?”

Hermes' wings fluttered, the feathers brushing against the nest of blankets. His eyes darted away, a flicker of guilt threading through his expression. “I-I didn’t mean to stay up that long,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I just got carried away.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing softly beneath his eye. “I know, my love,” he whispered. “I know how much it means to you. But you promised me.” Their voice was soft but unyielding. “You promised you would rest.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I did rest,” he argued weakly, but the words felt thin even to him. Tiresias’s thumb continued its slow, soothing circles, grounding him.

“You fell asleep on the stone floor, Hermes,” they replied, voice still impossibly soft. “I found you curled up against the wall, shivering. Your wings were drooping, my love. You were exhausted again.” There was no accusation in their voice, just quiet concern. “You promised me, little bird.”

Hermes' wings stilled, curling tighter against his calves. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Tiresias, couldn’t bear the quiet hurt threaded in their voice. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I didn’t mean to break my promise. I just. I wanted to finish it. I really want it to be perfect.”

Tiresias’s hand moved, brushing the curls away from his forehead. “I know you did,” he murmured, voice full of gentle affection. “I know how much it means to you. But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. You’re not. You’re not invulnerable anymore.” Their voice trembled slightly, the crack in their usually unshakable demeanor enough to make Hermes look up, eyes wide with surprise.

Tiresias’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do it all in one night, Hermes,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be perfect right now. You have time. We have time. We have so much time.” Their fingers moved, brushing against the soft feathers on his head. Hermes leaned into the touch instinctively, eyes slipping shut.

“I’m just so used to doing everything quickly,” he murmured, voice muffled against Tiresias’s palm. “When you’re a god, you don’t have to worry about time. You don’t have to think about how much your body can take.” He opened his eyes, looking up at Tiresias, their expression soft and open. “I’m still learning.”

Tiresias’s hand cupped his cheek. “Then we’ll learn together,” they murmured, voice soft and sure. “But you don’t have to do it alone. You don’t have to push yourself to the point of breaking just to make something beautiful.” His thumb brushed below his eye. “I’d rather have you here, well and safe, than anything you could make for me.”

Hermes' wings trembled, curling tighter against his calves as his head wings drooped in shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Tiresias leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I know,” they murmured. “But I still want to help you. I want you to be able to create, to make all the things you want. But safely.” He pulled back slightly, hand never leaving his cheek. “From now on, if you want to work at night, I want you to tell me. I’ll sit with you, make sure you don’t push yourself too hard. I don’t want you hurting yourself for this, Hermes. Not again.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flaring in his expression. “You’d, you’d sit with me? All night?” His voice wavered, wings fluttering softly at his ankles.

“Not all night, love. Neither of us will stay up all night, but I will be there to make sure you’re safe,” Tiresias replied, voice firm but gentle. “I would stay up with you. I would make sure you were alright.” Their hand moved, brushing along his cheek. “If you want to work, you can work. But you won’t do it alone anymore. I won’t allow it. Let me help you.”

Hermes swallowed hard, eyes brimming with emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I-I’d like that.”

Tiresias’s smile was soft and full of warmth. “Good,” he said, brushing Hermes’ hair back gently. “Then it’s settled.” Their hand moved to rest over Hermes' heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath their fingertips. “I’ll sit with you. As long as you need. We’ll work together.”

Hermes leaned into their touch, eyes slipping shut as his wings fluttered softly. “I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out unbidden, raw and real. “Thank you, Starlight.”

Tiresias’s hands moved gently through his hair, grounding him. “I love you too, my sweet bird,” they whispered back, voice full of warmth and quiet resolve. “And I always will.”

Hermes woke slowly, his wings fluttering with the smallest of movements, brushing against the blanket nest with delicate whispers. The ache from the night before still lingered in his bones, a dull reminder of how much he’d pushed himself. He rubbed at his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep, and let out a long, slow breath. He stretched, wings flaring out just a bit before tucking back against his ankles and head. “I…can I get back to work?” he asked, hoping Tiresias would join him.

Tiresias hummed, the sound low and knowing. Their hand drifted to Hermes' back, fingers brushing along his spine with gentle care. “Are you sure, my love?” they asked, voice laced with concern. “You’re still so tired. I can hear it in your voice.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings stilling. “I want to,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to finish it. But,” he trailed off, wings fluttering with uncertainty. “I don’t think I can. Not right now.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently along his cheekbones. “That’s alright, sweet bird,” he murmured, voice steady and warm. “There’s no rush. You’ve done so much already. Maybe today we take it slow.” His fingers drifted to his head wings, brushing gently over the soft feathers. “You’ve done enough for now. How about we just rest? Something small. Something gentle.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering softly beneath Tiresias’s touch. “Small?” he echoed, voice tinged with curiosity.

Tiresias nodded, their hand slipping down to brush over his arm. “We could read by the fire,” they suggested, voice tender and soft. “Or we could go listen to Lethe. You don’t always have to be working, my love.” His hand brushed along his cheek, grounding him. “We can just exist. Together.”

Hermes' breath hitched, wings curling tightly against his calves. He blinked rapidly, the tension slowly seeping from his shoulders. “That sounds nice,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. 

Tiresias smiled, his hand moving back to his wings, smoothing down the feathers with gentle care. “We’ll rest. We’ll breathe. You’ve more than earned it.” Their hand found his, squeezing gently. “The work will still be there tomorrow, little bird. And I will be right beside you when it is.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing gently against Tiresias’s calves. “Okay,” he whispered, voice soft and warm. “Just for today.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands threading through Hermes' hair, grounding him, holding him steady. “That’s my good bird,” they murmured, voice dripping with affection. “Now, come. Let’s just…be.”

Hermes leaned into Tiresias’s touch, wings stilling, breath steadying. For once, he allowed himself to just be held, to just exist, knowing that for today, it was enough.

Tiresias’s hands moved gently, smoothing down the mess of curls that framed Hermes' face. “I think,” they began, voice thoughtful and soft, “that Lethe has missed us.” Their hand drifted down to rest over Hermes', their fingers intertwining with gentle care. “It’s been a while since we’ve gone to listen to her sing, hasn’t it?”

Hermes blinked, the mention of the river stirring a soft flutter from his wings. His gaze drifted towards the cave entrance, where the distant, melodic hum of Lethe echoed faintly against the stone walls. “It has,” he murmured, almost wistful. “I’ve missed it too.” His fingers tightened slightly around Tiresias’s, grounding himself in the touch.

Tiresias smiled, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then let’s go, sweet bird. We’ll sit by the bank and let the river sing to us.” His thumb brushed slowly along Hermes' knuckles. “No rushing, no plans. Just us.”

Hermes' wings gave a light flutter, his eyes brightening with a flicker of excitement. “I’d like that,” he whispered. “I’d like that very much.”

Tiresias rose carefully, reaching for their staff and extending a hand towards Hermes. “Come then,” he beckoned, voice warm and steady. Hermes took their hand without hesitation, allowing them to pull him to his feet. His wings flared slightly for balance, the soft brush of feathers whispering against Tiresias’s arm.

Their journey was unhurried, the familiar paths winding through the depths of the Underworld stretching out before them. Hermes walked close to Tiresias, their hands still linked as they moved, the prophet’s staff tapping gently against the stone with each step. The soft hum of Lethe grew louder the closer they came, its melody threading through the air like a whispered promise.

When they reached the riverbank, Hermes let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Lethe stretched out before them, its surface shimmering with gentle ripples, the water whispering secrets only the dead could hear. Tiresias’s hand squeezed his gently, guiding him down to the soft patch of moss that grew along the bank. 

They sat in silence for a long moment, the hum of Lethe winding around them like a lullaby. Hermes' eyes slipped shut, and he tilted his head back, letting the soft melodies wrap around him, brush through him. His wings fluttered occasionally, brushing softly against the moss, their usual restlessness stilled by the river’s song.

“Can you hear it, little bird?” Tiresias asked, voice soft and reverent. Their hand still rested on Hermes', fingers brushing slow, tender circles over his knuckles. “The way she sings?”

Hermes nodded, his voice hushed. “I hear her,” he whispered. “I hear Ithaca. Telemachus commanding. Odysseus laughing. Penelope singing and weaving.” His wings fluttered, brushing against Tiresias’s calf. “It’s beautiful.”

Tiresias’s hand tightened over his. “What else?” he asked, voice gentle. “What else do you hear, my love?”

Hermes stilled, his breath catching. His wings trembled slightly, feathers quivering as he leaned forward, listening. “I hear,” he began, voice barely a whisper, “I hear you.” His hand squeezed Tiresias’s, grounding himself. “I hear you, Starlight. Stronger than anyone else.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched, and his hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing tenderly below his eye. “I’m glad,” they murmured, voice thick with affection. “I’m so glad you hear me.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, his wings settling back against the moss, feathers brushing softly along the ground. “I do,” he whispered. “I always do.”

The hum of Lethe continued to sing around them, the melody soft and winding, threading through the air with a gentle, unyielding persistence. Hermes closed his eyes, listening to the whispers of the river, the familiar echoes of home, of those he loved, threaded with the sound of Tiresias’s heart.

They stayed like that for hours, just listening, just breathing. The world was still and soft, time stretching out like silk before them, unhurried and warm. For the first time in a long while, Hermes didn’t feel the pressing need to move, to run, to act. He just wanted to be.

“Hermes, my love, we should be heading back soon,” Tiresias’s gentle hands shook the god awake. He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep. 

“You need to go to bed earlier after last night, love. And your poor wings have been sitting against the ground collecting dirt all day. Let’s get home so you can go to bed and get some rest, okay, sweet bird?” He asked, hands cradling the messenger’s face. Hermes nodded, standing quickly before helping Tiresias rise as well.

“Come, little bird,” they murmured, taking his hand in theirs. “Let’s get you back home.”

Hermes turned to face them, wings fluttering softly. “I like it when you say that,” he confessed quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “Home.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and their hand tightened around his. “That’s because it is, my love,” they said gently. “For as long as you want it to be.”

Hermes' wings flared with a delicate flutter, brushing against Tiresias’s calves. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek. “Always,” he whispered against their skin. “I want it to be always.”

Tiresias’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “Then always it will be.” His voice was steady.

The walk back to the cave was slow and unhurried, each step measured and content. Hermes’ wings flared occasionally, brushing against Tiresias’s calves as they walked. Tiresias held his hand, their fingers intertwined, the warmth of Hermes' palm grounding. The Underworld’s ever-present twilight cast long shadows across the path, but the soft hum of Lethe still lingered in Hermes' mind, soothing and melodic.

When the entrance to the cave came into view, Hermes felt a pang of belonging, the cave was his home. He stepped through the threshold first, wings flaring briefly before folding back against his ankles. Tiresias followed, his hand still loosely wrapped around his arm, the gentle tapping of their staff echoing softly.

Tiresias reached up, brushing their fingers through Hermes' curls, feeling the softness of his hair slip between their fingertips. “You are going to sleep tonight.”

Hermes laughed, a soft sound. “I always sleep,” he joked, wings fluttering with amusement.

Tiresias’s brow lifted. “I mean real sleep, my love,” they corrected, their voice gentle but firm. “None of this curling up against the wall business.” Their hand drifted down to his arm, pulling him towards their bed.

Hermes huffed a small laugh, wings flapping gently. “I suppose you’ll have to make sure I do, Starlight,” he teased, but his voice was light. The ache in his shoulders and the heaviness in his bones had softened, and for once, he didn’t feel like protesting.

Tiresias raised a brow, the ghost of a smile playing on their lips. “Oh, I intend to,” they replied smoothly. Hermes couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as Tiresias led him inside.

The cave was cool and quiet, the soft embers of the fire still glowing faintly from earlier. Tiresias moved with the same familiar grace, knowing every twist in the cave, knowing exactly how to get to their bed. Hermes followed, wings tucked neatly against his calves, his footsteps light and practiced.

They reached the small room, and Tiresias guided Hermes to change into his lighter sleeping attire before gently leading him to the bed. The prophet turned, his hands finding Hermes’ shoulders, thumbs brushing gently over the curve of his collarbone. “Come on now,” they murmured, voice gentle. “Let’s get you settled.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he let Tiresias guide him down, the blankets soft beneath him. Tiresias climbed in beside him, not hesitating for a moment before pulling Hermes close. Their arms wrapped around him, fingers tracing slow, grounding patterns across his back, just as they always did. Hermes nestled in, his head resting comfortably against Tiresias’s shoulder, his wings fluttering just slightly as he exhaled, the last of the tension leaving his body.

Tiresias’s hand moved gently to the small wings at his head, fingers brushing through the feathers with the same careful touch they always had. “You’re safe, my sweet bird,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Right here. I’m right here.”

Hermes sighed, his wings twitching softly. His eyes fluttered closed, and he felt the pull of sleep come quickly. He murmured something unintelligible, his hand coming up to clutch at the fabric of Tiresias’s robes, holding on as if afraid they might disappear.

Tiresias only held him tighter, fingers still brushing soothingly through the feathers, each pass deliberate and careful. He listened, unseeing eyes fixed somewhere above, ears straining for every breath, every flutter of Hermes' wings. The way his breathing evened out, soft and steady, the flutter of his wings slowing until they stilled entirely, their gentle rustling fading into silence.

They could feel Hermes' heart beneath their hand, the soft, steady thrum of it a comfort against their palm. Tiresias tilted their head slightly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Hermes' brow, lips lingering for just a moment. “I’m here,” they whispered again, softer this time, voice full of reverence. “I’m right here, little bird.”

Hermes made a soft noise in his sleep, wings twitching just slightly before settling again. Tiresias’s hand remained steady, brushing through his curls, fingers ghosting over the soft feathers by his ears. He stayed like that for a long while, listening to the slow rhythm of Hermes' breathing, the way it filled the room with quiet, steady life.

When Tiresias was sure that Hermes had drifted fully into sleep, they finally allowed themself to relax, their own breathing evening out to match his. He kept his hand on Hermes' back, feeling the slow rise and fall, the warmth of his body nestled against theirs.

“Sleep well, my sweet bird,” Tiresias whispered, their voice just a breath against the quiet of the room. Their hand never left Hermes' back, their grip steady and sure. “I’m right here.”

And with the warmth of the fire flickering in the distance, the soft hum of Lethe still thrumming gently in their veins, Tiresias listened to Hermes breathe, holding him close as the Underworld settled into its quiet rhythm once more.

Notes:

An extra chapter this week! Yay!

Also, get excited, cause the next couple chapters starts to spark the main theme of the story.

As always, take care of yourselves! Eat, sleep, go drink some water, and take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari (pen name)

Chapter 23

Summary:

Apollo pays a visit to the Underworld.

Apollo walked the path through the Underworld, each step deliberate and unhurried. The air was cool and heavy, with the soft whispers of souls drifting in the distance. Shadows flickered along the walls, stretching long and dark in the eternal twilight. His hands were clenched at his sides, tension coiled in every line of his frame as he followed the tug towards Hermes.

He paused, just before the bend that led to Tiresias’s cave. The faintest flicker of firelight danced at the far edge of the tunnel, whispering warmth and familiarity that made his chest tighten. His breath came out shaky, and he found himself lingering just out of sight, his hands flexing and unfurling restlessly.

He could almost hear them, soft murmurs, the gentle hum of conversation that had once been his to share. Hermes' laugh, light and teasing, the flutter of wings that always seemed to herald his arrival. The ache in his chest deepened, and his hand moved instinctively to press against his ribs, as if that could somehow soothe the hollow ache that had settled there.

He took a step forward, then hesitated. His hands dropped to his sides, fingers curling into fists. His mind screamed at him to go, to just take the final few steps, to see his brother. But his feet wouldn’t move. The weight of Zeus's threat hung heavy on him, a whispered warning that kept his hands bound, his steps frozen.

Apollo’s breath came out unsteady, and he turned sharply on his heel, retreating back down the path, away from the flicker of firelight. He didn’t stop, didn’t look back, not even when the shadows swallowed up the last trace of warmth from Tiresias’s cave. His hands shook, and his breath came out sharp and ragged, but he didn’t stop.

It wasn’t until he reached the massive iron gates of Hades’ palace that he finally paused, his hands braced against the cool metal. He sucked in a breath, chest heaving, and pushed the doors open. The guards bowed their heads as he passed, silent and respectful, and Apollo moved through the halls with a desperation that clung to him like smoke.

He found them in the gardens. Hades was seated on a stone bench, his hands folded neatly in his lap, while Persephone stood beside him, her hands gently smoothing over the petals of a silver lily that shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow. They both turned when he approached, surprise flickering in their expressions before softening to something warmer.

“Apollo,” Hades greeted, his voice steady and even. “You’re far from the light.”

Apollo forced a smile, though it was thin and brittle. “Even light needs to dim sometimes,” he replied, his voice cracking just slightly. His gaze flickered to Persephone, who watched him with those gentle, knowing eyes. She gave him a soft smile, beckoning him forward.

“Come,” she said, her voice like spring rain, soft and comforting. “Sit with us.” She moved to make space, and Apollo sank onto the bench beside them, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders just a little.

Hades watched him carefully, eyes tracing over the lines of exhaustion on Apollo’s face. “You miss him.”

Apollo laughed, but it was brittle, edged with grief. “Of course, I miss him. He’s my brother.” He looked down at his hands, fingers curling into fists. 

Hades studied him, his gaze sharp and perceptive. “I expected you to visit sooner,” he murmured, voice steady. “I assumed you would want to see him.” There was no judgment in his tone, just a statement of fact.

Apollo flinched, his hands twisting in his lap. “I tried,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I got so close, but I-I couldn’t.” His eyes squeezed shut, and he turned his face away, ashamed. “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if…” His breath stuttered. “What if it just hurts him? Besides, Zeus forbade–”

“Zeus is not the King of this realm,” Hades interrupted gently, his voice steady and unyielding. “I have already granted Hermes my protection. If you wish to see him, you have that right. Let me handle your father.”

Apollo’s eyes widened, surprise flooding his features. “You. You would do that? Even for me?”

Hades nodded. “Family is still family. And family should not be kept apart.” He leaned back. “But that choice is yours to make. I will not force you.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, and his head dropped forward, hair falling over his eyes. “I just don’t want to hurt him more,” he whispered. “He’s already been through so much.”

Persephone’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You are his family, Apollo. He misses you. You will not hurt him by being there. You will only hurt him by staying away.” 

Hades spoke up as well. “If you want to see him, go. I will deal with Zeus if he raises a fuss.”

Apollo’s eyes shot up, wide and startled. “You’d do that? You’d risk his wrath for me?”

Persephone squeezed his hand. “Of course, dear one. He is our family too.”

Hades' eyes softened just a fraction. “I have dealt with Zeus’s tantrums for millennia. He will not keep me from protecting my own.” His voice was resolute, unshakable. “And neither should he keep you.”

“I can’t just…” Apollo’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I can’t just go. Zeus made it very clear. No one is to see him. No one is to help him. He–, he clipped Hermes' wings, Uncle. He clipped his wings.” His voice broke on the last word, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if saying it out loud somehow made it worse. “What would he do to me?”

Hades watched him with a measured gaze, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “You are afraid,” he observed, his voice soft but unwavering. “Of your father.”

Apollo bristled. “I’m not afraid of him,” he argued, but deep down, they both knew the truth. Zeus’s actions against Hermes left many gods wary of the God King’s anger. 

Apollo swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m just, I’m not like you. He can hurt me. He can strip me of everything.” His fingers flexed, tension coiling in his hands. “If I go to Hermes… if I help him… what happens to me?”

“Zeus holds no power in this realm. You would be under no penalty, as I have not declared Hermes an exile here. I would not allow your father to harm you for this.” Hades said, leaving no room for argument. Persephone’s hands traced small circles along Apollo’s back, soothing the worry and fear.

Disbelief sat clearly in Apollo’s eyes. “You think you can stand against him?”

Hades smiled slowly and deliberately, a hint of mischief flashed in his eyes. “I think that Zeus has forgotten what it means to lose. He has grown too comfortable, too confident in his own strength. But even mountains erode with time.” He straightened. “If you want to see your brother, Apollo, you will do so. Let me handle Zeus.”

“But…” Apollo hesitated, curling in on himself. “What if he takes it out on Hermes? What if he finds out I was there and punishes him again?” His voice was small, threaded with genuine fear.

Hades’ expression softened, just a fraction, his gaze steady. “I have already sworn protection over Hermes. He is safe within my realm. If Zeus wishes to test that, he will have to go through me.” His eyes glimmered with something fierce, something ancient. “I would like to see him try.”

“I…I want to see him,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just…I don’t know if I can. I don’t even know what I would say.”

Hades’ gaze was patient, unyielding. “Then don’t say anything,” he replied gently. “Just be there. That is enough. Words will come when they’re needed.”

Apollo’s eyes held something fragile, something raw. But he nodded. “Okay.” Persephone softly squeezed his shoulders.

“Your presence will mean more to him than you could imagine, Apollo,” she murmured.

Hades rose from his seat, the flicker of firelight casting sharp angles across his face. He extended a hand towards Apollo, the gesture both regal and familiar. “Come,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You will stay here tonight. Rest, gather your strength. The path to Hermes is not a short one, nor is it easy.”

Apollo blinked, surprise flickering across his face before he nodded slowly, stepping forward. His hand slipped into Hades’ outstretched one, and for the briefest moment, he looked almost childlike, like the young god who once roamed Olympus with laughter on his lips and sunlight in his hair. Persephone walked closely behind, her presence a constant thrum of peace and softness.

“It’s just through here,” she murmured, voice soft with a tenderness that Apollo hadn’t expected. The shadows receded as they moved further in, replaced by a soft, golden light spilling from an open doorway just ahead. Apollo blinked, pausing for a moment. Warmth, real, comforting warmth, breathed out from the room, curling around his ankles and inviting him forward.

Persephone squeezed his arm gently. “It’s alright,” she whispered, sensing his hesitation. “Hades believes even the dead deserve a place of peace. So do you.”

Apollo swallowed thickly, nodding as he stepped forward, crossing the threshold.

The room wasn’t grand, but it was perfect. A modest hearth sat at the far end, its flames flickering with a soft, steady glow that pooled warmth into every corner. Thick blankets were piled on a low bed, woven with intricate patterns of deep greens and soft blues, colors that reminded Apollo of the sea at dawn. Candles sat, softly glowing, throughout the room.

There was a simple chair by the fire, its cushions well-worn and soft from years of use. A woven rug sprawled out beneath it, patterned with delicate designs that whispered of hands that had carefully crafted each thread. A small pitcher of water and a cup sat beside the hearth, along with a bowl of fresh pomegranates, their ruby seeds glimmering in the firelight.

Persephone stepped inside, her touch falling away from his arm as she moved to adjust the blankets, smoothing them with practiced ease. “It’s not much,” she said gently, her voice laced with fondness. “But it’s warm. And it’s safe.”

Apollo stepped further in, his hands brushing over the wooden frame of the chair, fingers catching on the little nicks and imperfections in the wood. He swallowed, glancing back at the fire. “I didn’t think,” he hesitated, voice softer than it had been in ages. “I didn’t think there would be light here.”

Persephone smiled, the warmth of it audible in her voice. “There is always light where there is love,” she said simply. She turned back to him, smoothing her hands over the edge of the blanket once more. “You are welcome here, Apollo. As long as you need.”

Hades stepped forward, his gaze steady but gentle. “This room is yours for as long as you wish it,” he murmured. “Rest. You are safe here.”

Apollo took a shaky breath, nodding slowly. “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “We’ll go tomorrow to see him.” His hands were still trembling, but there was resolve in his eyes now, something fragile but real.

Hades squeezed his shoulder, firm and steady. “And we will be here tonight. Whatever you need.”

Persephone’s hand did not leave his. “We’ll always be here.”

Apollo let out a shuddering breath, shoulders sagging as the weight began to lift just slightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking with the strain of holding back tears. “Thank you.”

Persephone moved first, her hands wrapping around him, her embrace gentle and firm. Hades watched for only a moment before joining, his hand resting firmly on Apollo’s back.

“Get some rest,” Persephone murmured, her voice soft and full of understanding. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

She gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze before the two stepped back. With a soft click, the door closed, and Apollo was left alone with the firelight and the quiet hum of the Underworld.

He stood still for a moment, eyes drifting over the room, the simplicity of it soothing in a way he hadn’t expected. He moved to the chair by the fire, the cushion soft as he sank into it, and for the first time in a long while, Apollo let himself exhale. 

The warmth of the fire washed over him, brushing against his skin like a memory of summer. Apollo closed his eyes, his hands curling into the worn fabric of the chair. It wasn’t Olympus. It wasn’t the shining halls of the gods or the sunlight of the mortal world. But it was warm. It was safe. And it was enough.

~~~~

As the morning light filtered through the faint glow of the Underworld, Apollo sat up, his fingers already worrying at the soft skin around his nails. It wasn’t until the sting of it registered that he realized he’d been picking at the same spot for several minutes. He frowned, dropping his hand into his lap, but within seconds it was back, fingertips brushing against the raw skin almost instinctively.

The room was quiet, the only sound the distant hiss of Styx outside threading through the stone walls. Apollo listened to it for a moment, his hands flexing against the fabric of the blankets. He felt restless, a jittering energy under his skin that refused to be soothed. His fingers twisted and untwisted the edge of the blanket, breath coming out in slow, controlled puffs. Today. Today he would see Hermes.

He rose, stretching out his arms, the tension still lingering in his muscles. There was a soft knock at his door before it opened, revealing Persephone’s gentle smile. “Good morning, Apollo,” she greeted, her voice a soft lilt that eased some of the tension from his shoulders. “Did you rest well?”

Apollo nodded, his hands falling back to his sides. “Better than I thought I would,” he admitted, his voice still rough from sleep. He straightened his posture, attempting to shake off the remnants of drowsiness. “I’m ready.”

Persephone’s gaze softened, and she stepped further into the room, a tray balanced in her hands. “I brought you something to eat,” she murmured, setting it down on the small table by the hearth. Fresh fruit, slices of soft bread, and a pitcher of water rested on it. “You should take some time. Gather your strength. Hades will be ready to go when you are. But first, eat. The Underworld is not kind to those unused to it.”

Apollo’s eyes lingered on the food, and for a moment, his stomach tightened. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the scent reached him. He gave her a grateful nod, moving towards the table and settling down. “Thank you, Persephone.”

She smiled, a softness that spoke of ages past, and moved to stand by the hearth, her fingers brushing along the petals of a flower that had sprouted between the cracks of the stone. Apollo watched her, the way she moved with deliberate grace, her hands gentle as she traced the flower’s stem. “I never thought I would find warmth here,” he admitted after a moment, his voice low.

Persephone turned to him, her eyes thoughtful. “The Underworld is not without its comforts,” she replied. “It is what you make of it. Just like anywhere else.” Her eyes softened, voice dropping to a whisper. “It can be home, if you let it.”

Apollo didn’t respond, his eyes drifting back to the tray in front of him. He picked up a slice of bread, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth. The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but weighted with thoughts unspoken. Persephone’s presence grounded Apollo, preparing him for the day. 

The last time he’d been able to actually see Hermes had been so fleeting, so full of fear. Here, Hades assured him they would be safe.

When he had eaten his fill, Persephone stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Are you ready?” she asked gently.

Apollo swallowed, his hands flexing again, nerves buzzing under his skin. “I…yes. I’m ready.” His voice wavered, but there was determination there, a thread of resolve.

Persephone’s hand squeezed his shoulder, a soft, grounding pressure. “Hades is waiting for you at the gates,” she murmured. “I’ll take you to him.”

Apollo stood, smoothing out his tunic, fingers brushing over the creases as if that would steady his trembling hands. Persephone watched him for a moment longer before turning towards the door, beckoning him to follow. He hesitated only briefly before falling into step beside her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

His heart ached with longing, the kind that gnawed at him, hollowing him out. And then it twisted with fear, cold and unyielding. What if Hermes did not want to see him? What if his brother had moved on, found peace without him?

Persephone must have sensed his hesitation because her hand found his, squeezing gently. “He still loves you,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure. “I know he does.”

Apollo swallowed, his eyes slipping shut for just a moment. “I want to believe that,” he whispered, voice trembling. “But I don’t know if I can.”

Persephone smiled, gentle and warm. “Then go find out.”

Together, they reached the entrance of the palace, the massive iron gates looming before them. Hades stood waiting, his hands folded neatly behind his back, his expression calm and steady. He turned when they approached, eyes settling on Apollo with a nod of acknowledgment.

“Are you ready?” Hades asked, his voice steady, measured.

Apollo hesitated, his eyes flickering between the iron gates and the path that lay beyond. His hands flexed at his sides, nerves sparking under his skin. He shivered softly; the chill of the realm seeped into him today. Hades’ eyes softened. 

“Of course. I’ve grown so used to the chill of this world that I forget.” He turned behind him momentarily, before handing Apollo a long set of robes. “These will warm you, nephew. The path is long, and I want you to be comfortable.”

Apollo slipped the robes on, sighing in relief as the cold stopped biting his skin. “Thank you,” he murmured. Then he took a breath, long and deep, and stated, his voice firmer than before. “I’m ready.”

Hades stepped forward, his hand resting on Apollo’s shoulder. “Then let’s go see your brother.”

Apollo swallowed, nervous to begin their journey, fingers drifting back to the edge of his thumbnail before he caught himself.

Hades raised a brow but said nothing at first, as they began walking. The silence between them was not stifling, but Hades could feel the nerves of the young god next to him. He glanced over and immediately saw Apollo absently picking at the soft skin by his thumbnail.

He stopped, startling the music god, who glanced over, a question in his eyes. Hades simply extends a hand out in front of him. “May I?”

Apollo blinked, looking up at him in confusion. “May you?”

Hades' gaze dropped pointedly to Apollo’s hands. “Let me see.”

With a reluctant sigh, Apollo held out his hand, palm up. Hades took it gently, his fingers brushing over the red, irritated skin near Apollo’s nails. “You’ve been at this again,” he noted, his voice low and careful.

Apollo huffed, looking away. “Old habits die hard,” he muttered.

Hades' fingers moved, gently brushing along the edges of Apollo’s hand, his touch impossibly gentle for a god known for ruling the dead. “I’ve seen you do this since you were young,” Hades murmured, his thumb brushing carefully over the sore patches. “Back when you first started competing with Artemis.” His gaze flickered up to Apollo’s, his eyes softer than usual. “You used to come to me with your fingers bleeding.”

Apollo flushed, pulling his hand back instinctively. “I haven’t done that in years,” he protested, though his voice wavered. “I’m not…I’m not a child anymore.”

“No,” Hades agreed, his voice warm and steady. “But some habits linger. And it’s alright to feel nervous, Apollo. This is important to you.”

They started walking again. Apollo’s shoulders slumped, the tension seeping out of him like air from a punctured balloon. He rubbed his hands together, feeling the rough patches of skin catch against each other. “I just…what if he hates me for not coming sooner? What if he thinks I didn’t want to be there?” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I don’t want him to think that.”

“He won’t,” Hades said firmly. “Hermes knows you love him. He knows how much you care.” He squeezed gently. “And you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Apollo’s gaze flickered up to meet his uncle’s, something fragile and raw lingering in his eyes. “And Tiresias?”

Hades paused, his expression thoughtful. “Tiresias is protective,” he admitted. “But he is also wise. They know how important you are to Hermes. He will not stand in your way if you come with kindness.”

Apollo let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his hands finally stilling. He looked up at Hades, his eyes bright and shimmering. “I hope he forgives me. I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t, it was my arrow that struck him down after all.” His voice wavered, a thin tremor threading through the words. His hand drifted unconsciously to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robes as if feeling for a wound that wasn’t his. “I-I killed him. I’m the reason he’s here.”

Hades' gaze softened just slightly, but his tone remained firm. “Death comes for every mortal, Apollo. Tiresias knows this better than most.” He paused, letting the weight of that truth settle between them before continuing, “But you must be kind. And if you are, they will be kind in return.”

Apollo swallowed, his fingers still twisted in his robes. “You really think so?” he whispered.

Hades nodded, his grip steady and sure. “I do. But make no mistake, Tiresias will protect Hermes. God or not.” His voice was edged with a warning, but not unkind. “Respect them, and you will be welcomed.” Apollo nodded, but his steps faltered momentarily. 

“I hope he still wants me. I know he’s happy with Tiresias, I just hope he still wants me around.” Apollo whispered.

Hades gave Apollo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, urging him forward. “Come on,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “We’re almost there.”

Apollo hesitated, his feet dragging just slightly. His hands fidgeted again, and Hades could see the way his thumb brushed over the raw skin on his opposite hand.

“Apollo,” Hades began, his voice soft but unwavering. “You have to keep moving.”

Apollo’s head dipped, golden hair falling into his eyes, still shimmering with light despite the gloom around them. “I’m scared,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “What if…what if he doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s happier without me?”

Hades stepped in front of him, blocking his path, and placed both hands on Apollo’s shoulders. “Listen to me,” he said, tone firm but not harsh. “Hermes has spent every day since his fall thinking about you. He hasn’t forgotten you, nor has he ever stopped loving you. You are his brother.” He gave Apollo’s shoulders a gentle, grounding squeeze. “You cannot let fear keep you from him. Not when he needs you.”

Apollo bit his lip, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “But what if he hates me? I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there when he needed me most.”

Hades didn’t flinch. “And you’ve carried that guilt, haven’t you?”

Apollo nodded, his hands trembling again. “Every day,” he whispered. “I keep thinking about the last time I saw him, and I just.” His shoulders shook. “I can’t stop thinking that I failed him.”

Hades' expression softened, and he carefully pulled Apollo into a hug. The god of music stiffened at first, but then his shoulders sagged, and he let himself be held. “It’s alright,” Hades murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re here now. That’s what matters. Hermes will understand.”

Apollo let out a shaky breath, burying his face against Hades' shoulder. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Hades said without hesitation. “Hermes is kind, despite everything he’s been through. He’s always been kind. He’ll forgive you.”

Apollo pulled back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice steadier. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Hades gave him a rare, small smile. “Good.” He stepped back, guiding Apollo to walk beside him. “You won’t have to do this alone.”

The path grew narrower, the shadows deeper as they approached the bend that led to the cave. Apollo’s steps grew hesitant once more, his hands drifting back to his nails before Hades gently caught one of his wrists, giving it a squeeze. “You’re stronger than this fear,” Hades reminded him. “Hermes is your brother. He wants to see you.”

Apollo nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in his throat. “He wants to see me,” he repeated, as if trying to convince himself.

Hades' tone softened. “Yes, he does.” He let go of Apollo’s wrist, guiding him forward again. “You don’t have to be perfect, Apollo. You just have to be here.”

A shaky breath left Apollo’s lungs, and he nodded again, more sure of himself this time. “I can do that,” he whispered.

When they rounded the final corner, the faint glow of firelight spilled into the tunnel. Hades slowed his steps, allowing Apollo to take the lead. Apollo glanced back at him, searching his face for any last reassurance. Hades just nodded, his presence a steady force at his back.

Taking a deep breath, Apollo pushed forward, letting the flicker of firelight guide him. His heart pounded with each step, but he kept moving, the soft murmur of voices from inside the cave growing clearer. He could make out a soft laugh, Hermes’ laugh, and it sent a tremor through his chest, both pain and hope mingling together.

Apollo hesitated at the threshold, fingers brushing against the stone wall. Hades moved to stand just behind him, close enough to offer comfort, but not close enough to intrude.

“Go on,” Hades whispered. “He’s right there. You’ve come this far.”

Apollo took a breath, steadying his nerves, and stepped inside.

Notes:

This is the beginning of a brand new chapter for Hermes. I can't wait to post the next chapter for you all…might even post it tomorrow, or tonight if you're lucky.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 24

Summary:

Hermes and Tiresias get some visitors…who could they be??

The morning air shifted throughout the cave, gently curling around Hermes and Tiresias, who lay entwined, snuggled soundly in their bed. Tiresias stirred first, his hand brushing softly over Hermes’ curls, fingers tracing the small wings nestled among them.

Hermes mumbled something incoherent, his head shifting to nuzzle against Tiresias’s shoulder. His wings fluttered gently, brushing against Tiresias’s arm, and a contented sigh slipped from his lips. Tiresias smiled, his hand moving to cup the back of Hermes' head, brushing through his hair with deliberate care.

“Morning, little bird,” Tiresias murmured, his voice low and warm.

Hermes hummed in response, his wings giving a soft flicker. “Mornin’,” he mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes. He nestled closer, burying his face against Tiresias’s neck. “Don’t wanna move.”

Tiresias huffed a soft laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to Hermes' forehead. “Then don’t,” they whispered, thumb brushing gently over the fallen god’s temple. “We don’t have to go anywhere today.”

Hermes smiled sleepily, his hand moving to rest over Tiresias’s heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath his fingertips. “Good,” he whispered. “Don’t wanna do anything but this.”

Tiresias’s arms wrapped around him more firmly, and he let out a contented sigh. “I’ll hold you as long as you want, my love.”

For a while, they stayed like that, tangled up in warmth and each other, breathing in sync. Hermes' wings fluttered occasionally, brushing against Tiresias’s calves, and the others tickling against his neck. The Underworld’s quiet seemed to embrace them both.

Tiresias pressed a kiss to Hermes' cheek, his fingers brushing through the tangled curls. “You seem well-rested,” he murmured, his voice gentle.

Hermes hummed in agreement, his wings twitching happily. “Slept good,” he mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. “Think it was because you were here.”

Tiresias smiled, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “I’ll always be here, little bird,” they whispered. “You can rest as much as you need.”

They stayed like that for a few moments longer, exchanging soft kisses and whispered words, the morning stretching out unhurried and gentle. But then Tiresias stilled, his head tilting slightly, ears straining. A faint sound, footsteps, unfamiliar and measured, echoed from the entrance to the cave. Tiresias’s brow furrowed, and their grip on Hermes tightened just slightly.

Hermes noticed the shift, his head lifting to look at Tiresias. “What’s wrong?”

Tiresias didn’t immediately respond, his focus still on the distant sound. “Footsteps,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful. “Not Hades. And not Persephone.” He pushed himself up slowly, their hand finding their staff. “Someone’s coming.”

Hermes' wings flared instinctively, and he scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. “But who?” His voice was soft but edged with anxiety.

Tiresias stood, his hand finding Hermes' shoulder, grounding him. “We’ll see,” he whispered. “Stay close to me. We’re fine, Hades wouldn’t let danger get this close.”

They moved towards the entrance together, Tiresias walking with quiet, practiced steps, Hermes trailing just behind him, his wings twitching with nervous energy. As they rounded the bend, the footsteps grew louder, and Hermes' heart leapt into his throat.

Then, just as they reached the mouth of the cave, the figure appeared; tall, golden, and hesitant. Hermes froze, his wings flaring wide in shock. “Apollo?”

Apollo stood at the threshold, his hands fidgeting nervously at his sides. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of his brother, alive and well, and his breath hitched. “Hermes…” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Hermes didn’t move, didn’t speak. His wings fluttered in a confused, jittery motion, torn between joy and fear. “What are you…? Why?” His voice broke, and he took a shaky step back, closer to Tiresias. With that small step, Apollo felt his heart start to tear. Was he scared of him? Did he really not want to see him? 

Tiresias’s hand tightened on his staff, his expression wary. “You’re Apollo,” he stated, voice calm but guarded.

Apollo nodded slowly, his hands lifting, palms out. “I am. I-I’m not here to cause trouble,” he stammered. “I just, I had to see him. I had to make sure he was okay.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his breathing picking up. “Polly, you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice thick with panic. “If, if Zeus finds out–”

Hades' voice cut through the tension, calm and unyielding. “Zeus will not touch him. Not here.” He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Apollo’s shoulder. “I’ve given my word.”

Hermes shuddered, and his wings drooped. “But…what if he gets hurt?” His eyes were wide, pleading, flicking between Hades and Apollo.

Tiresias stepped closer, his hand finding Hermes', lacing their fingers together. “Breathe, little bird,” they whispered. “You’re safe. Your brother is safe. Hades wouldn’t risk him.”

Apollo’s eyes softened at the sight of Tiresias grounding Hermes so tenderly. “I just wanted to see you,” he whispered, his own voice trembling. “I was so scared. I thought…I thought I’d lost you.”

Hermes' eyes filled with tears, and he took a tentative step forward. “I-I thought you didn’t care. I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Apollo’s face crumpled, and Hermes moved forward instinctively, feeling the need to care for and soothe his brother, but Tiresias’s grip on Hermes' hand tightened, holding him steady. “I did,” Apollo whispered. “But I was scared. I didn’t know how to help you.”

Hades stepped back slightly, giving them space, and Tiresias remained at Hermes' side, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of his hand.

Hermes bit his lip, his wings fluttering weakly. “You’re here now,” he whispered, the tension slowly easing from his shoulders.

Apollo nodded, tears glimmering in his eyes. “I’m here.”

Tiresias gave Hermes' hand a gentle squeeze, leaning in to whisper, “It’s alright, sweet bird. Let him in.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, and then, still somewhat hesitant, he moved forward, his wings trembling. Apollo met him halfway, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug. Hermes melted into the embrace, his hands clutching at Apollo’s robes, his wings flapping and flaring.

“I missed you,” Hermes whispered, his voice breaking.

“I missed you, too, little wing,” Apollo choked out, his hands tangled in Hermes' curls. “I’m so sorry.”

Hermes had not let go of Apollo, his arms still tightly curled around his brother as if afraid he might vanish if he so much as loosened his grip. Apollo held him just as tightly, his hands still tangled in Hermes' curls, breath shuddering with the weight of everything unspoken.

But Tiresias had not moved. They stood a step behind Hermes, hand still resting on their staff, unseeing eyes fixed in their direction. His grip was firm, knuckles white where they curled around the wood. Hades watched quietly from the entrance, his expression unreadable but present, always present.

Hermes finally pulled back, his hands still clutching Apollo’s robes. His wings fluttered once before settling back against his calves. “You’re here,” he whispered, his eyes shimmering with disbelief. “You’re actually here.”

Apollo smiled. “I’m here,” he whispered back, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not now.”

A beat of silence hung in the air, stretching out long and thin. Hermes glanced back at Tiresias, his eyes softening. “Starlight,” he murmured, his hand reaching back instinctively. “He’s here. He came.” His voice wavered on the edge of breaking, as if the reality of it might slip away if he let it.

Tiresias hesitated, his grip tightening just slightly on his staff before he stepped forward. Their hand found Hermes’, fingers lacing together in a gesture both protective and grounding. “I hear him,” Tiresias replied, their voice smooth and measured, but there was no mistaking the tension and pain that lingered beneath it.

Apollo straightened, his eyes flickering to Tiresias for the first time with clear, deliberate focus. His hands slipped from Hermes' shoulders, coming to rest at his sides. “You must be Tiresias,” Apollo said, his voice low and careful. “It has been centuries since I’ve seen you.”

Tiresias inclined his head. “I am,” he replied, his tone guarded. His grip on Hermes' hand did not falter.

The tension in the room tightened, strings drawn taut. Hermes looked between the two of them, his wings giving a nervous flutter. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft. “We’re all safe here.”

Tiresias’s hand gently tugged Hermes closer, wrapping their arms around him. “Starlight?” Hermes asked, confused at the prophet’s actions. “It’s my brother. It’s okay.” The fallen god whispered.

Hades stepped forward, his presence a steady hum in the background. “There is no threat here, Tiresias,” he assured, his voice firm but gentle. “I would not have allowed him in if there was.”

Tiresias’s head turned slightly toward Hades, their fingers still entwined with Hermes'. “Forgive me, Lord Hades,” he murmured, his tone respectful but unwavering. “But I will always be protective of him.”

Hades did not flinch. If anything, he looked almost pleased. “As you should be,” he replied simply. “But Apollo is family. And family should not be kept apart.”

Tiresias stilled, Hermes still safely in their arms. Apollo watched them carefully, his gaze steady. “I know you’re protective of him,” Apollo began, his voice cracking just slightly. “I’m glad he has someone like you.” He took a breath, hands flexing at his sides. “But I can tell you don’t trust me.”

Tiresias said nothing, their head tilting just slightly, as if weighing Apollo’s words. Hermes glanced nervously between them, his wings still flickering with uncertainty. Tiresias raised their hand quickly, soothing the fluttering, gently brushing his fingers along the wing, pressing a kiss to Hermes’ temple.

Apollo took a step forward, hands raised slightly. “I understand why you don’t,” he continued, his voice soft and even. “I understand that I…That I didn’t come for him. That I stayed away.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep going. “But I want you to know…” He turned his gaze fully to Tiresias, eyes clear and unwavering. “I’m sorry.”

The cave went still, the silence settling like dust over everything. Tiresias blinked, their arms subconsciously tightening around Hermes. “Sorry?” they repeated, the word slipping from their lips.

Apollo nodded, his hands falling back to his sides. “Yes,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For not being there. For not fighting for him. For not coming sooner.” His eyes dropped to the ground, his voice shaking. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry I left him alone.”

Tiresias remained silent, his arms loosened just slightly. Apollo raised his eyes again, and there was nothing but raw sincerity etched across his features that echoed into his voice. “I know it might not mean much,” he whispered, “but I want you to know I’m here now. And I’m not leaving again.”

“And,” the god of music continued, his voice trembling now, the words heavy with something deeper. “I’m sorry for…for what I did to you.”

Tiresias stiffened, his expression tightening just slightly. Hermes’ breath caught, and he looked between the two, his wings curling inward, instinctively protective. “What you did to me?” Tiresias repeated, his voice low and measured.

Apollo’s gaze did not falter, though his hands were shaking. “You were right to be wary of me,” he whispered. “I took your life. My arrow was the one to strike you down.” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking with the weight of the confession. “I never, never apologized. I never thought I’d have the chance.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened around his staff, his hand going white-knuckled. For a long, heavy moment, he said nothing, his expression carefully neutral. “You didn’t,” he murmured finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You never did.”

Hermes' wings flared, his eyes wide and brimming with confusion. “Starlight…?” he whispered.

Tiresias shook his head, his fingers brushing gently through Hermes’ hair. “It was a long time ago,” he whispered. “Another life.” Hermes longed to go hold his brother in his arms, but he could feel how tense Tiresias was behind him. And he knew how much the act of holding Hermes grounded them.

Tiresias turned back to Apollo, his expression unreadable. “And you think that an apology makes it right?”

Apollo shook his head. “No,” he replied, voice steady and unyielding. “I don’t. But that's all I have.” His hands curled into fists, desperation threading through his voice. “I’m sorry, Tiresias. For everything.”

The silence stretched long and thin, fragile as glass. Finally, Tiresias inclined his head, just slightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I appreciate it.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he turned, his eyes brimming with tears as he looked to Tiresias. “Starlight,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

Tiresias was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he turned his head just slightly, his gaze settling somewhere in the direction of Apollo’s voice. “I believe you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but sure. “But I will be watching.”

Apollo swallowed hard, nodding. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steady. He stepped forward just slightly, his eyes fixed on Tiresias. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For taking care of him.”

Tiresias inclined his head. “You are welcome,” he replied simply, and for the first time, his voice softened just a fraction. “He is…precious.”

Apollo’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his gaze flickered to Hermes. “I know.”

Tiresias did not move, their grip on Hermes remaining steadfast, fingers still brushing over the wings that trembled softly on his head.

Hermes’ ankle wings twitched, brushing against the floor, a nervous flutter that filled the silence. He looked between his brother and his lover, his hands still clutching tightly to Tiresias’s robes. “We’re alright,” he murmured, though his voice wavered just slightly. “We’re…we’re together. That’s what matters.”

Apollo’s eyes softened, a flicker of hope threading through his expression. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything, but then the world around them shifted.

The air grew heavy, suffocating in its weight, pressing against their lungs. A low rumble shivered through the stone walls of the cave, so deep it seemed to vibrate in their bones. Tiresias flinched, his grip instinctively tightening around Hermes, fingers going white-knuckled.

Hermes' wings flared, the fluttering becoming frantic. “No…” he whispered, his voice thin and brittle. “Not here. Not here.” The very world around them became prickly with energy.

Apollo straightened, his hands balling into fists. “Hermes?” he asked, voice taut with concern. He, too, knew this feeling, this anger.

Hermes barely heard him. His wings flapped wildly, brushing against Tiresias and Apollo with sharp flicks of panic. “Not here,” he whispered again, eyes wide, breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. “He can’t be here. He can’t. We’re safe, we’re safe.”

Thunder cracked, shaking the very stone of the cave, dust scattering from the ceiling in a fine mist. Tiresias staggered, their grip slipping. “What…what is this?” they gasped, their voice shaking. It was unlike anything they had ever felt; the very air hummed with power, so heavy it crushed against their ribs, squeezed their lungs. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground with a gasp, staff clattering uselessly beside him. Their hand scrambled for Hermes, grasping for anything solid, but the amount of power surrounding them kept them down.

Hermes barely heard them. His eyes were fixed on the entrance of the cave, wings flaring out defensively. “No, no, no…” he murmured, his voice a broken chant.

Apollo stepped forward, his gaze turning hard and unyielding. He reached out, his hands finding Hermes’ shoulders. “Hermes,” he commanded, voice sharp and steady. “Look at me.” Hermes whimpered; he could feel himself falling again. 

“Please, don’t let him hurt me, not again,” he whispered. Another crack of thunder followed.

Hermes flinched, his wings giving a panicked flap, but Apollo held firm. “Look at me,” he repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s going to be alright. I’m here.” He pulled Hermes close, soothing him as he did when they were young, hands instinctively running through the soft wings atop his head, grounding the trembling messenger.

But the thunder rumbled again, the sound splitting through the Underworld like a divine crack of judgment. Apollo’s head snapped towards the entrance, his expression hardening. “I won’t let him touch you,” he vowed, voice low and full of fire. 

Tiresias, still trembling on the ground, managed to raise his head, unseeing eyes flickering towards the entrance. The power pressing against him was suffocating, like hands wrapped around his throat. “Hermes…” he gasped, his hand reaching blindly. “Hermes, what’s happening?”

Hermes turned, eyes wide and shimmering with tears. “It’s him,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s Zeus.”

And then, like a storm, Zeus entered.

The very air split with the crackle of lightning, and thunder boomed so loudly that the stone walls shook. Zeus stepped into the cave, his form towering and terrible, eyes alight with storm and fury. His gaze swept over the room, settling on Apollo with a look of pure, unbridled rage.

“Apollo,” Zeus’s voice was a crack of thunder, sharp and cutting. “You dare defy me?”

Apollo straightened, stepping forward without hesitation, placing himself firmly between Zeus and Hermes. “I do,” he said, voice firm and unyielding. “This is Hades’ realm. Not yours.”

Hermes trembled behind him, wings hugging his ankles closely and trembling atop his head. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape. He would fall again. A soft sob escaped him, unheard by anyone, lost to the thunder of Zeus’s being.

Zeus’s eyes flared, lightning crackling in their depths. “You forget your place, boy,” he growled, each word laced with thunder. “I gave you power. I can just as easily strip it away.”

Apollo did not move. His shoulders squared, his hands clenched at his sides. “And I am not alone.” His gaze flickered to Hades, who stepped forward, his expression as unyielding as the stone walls themselves.

“That’s enough, brother.” Hades' voice was low, but it carried with it the weight of the Underworld itself. “This is my domain. My rules.” He stepped forward, standing between the God King and the three trembling forms. Apollo turned to Hermes, who was still frozen in fear. He wrapped his brother in his arms, holding him close, hand cradling the back of Hermes’ head. The messenger pressed his head into the crook of Apollo’s neck, trembling with fear. Apollo murmured soft reassurances, holding him close.

“You do not have power here.” Hades’ voice rang out.

Zeus’s gaze flickered, his eyes darkening with the crackle of lightning. “You think you can stop me?” he spat, voice shaking the very walls.

Hades raised a brow, his expression unflinching. “I know I can. This is my realm. I hold power here.” He replied, his voice smooth and calm. “You are not welcome here. Leave.”

Zeus took a step forward, the ground shaking beneath his feet. “I will not leave until my son comes with me,” he snarled, his gaze landing on Apollo, burning with divine fire.

“Which one?” Hades asked, voice cold. “The one you cast out? The one you hurt so deeply and then tossed aside? Or the one that is so fearful of you that he can barely stand to even think about being anything but perfect. The one who is being crushed by the weight of your anger?” The room fell silent for a moment, but Hades continued, “You cannot touch them here, Zeus. Any of them. This is my realm. My rules. These three are under my protection.” He stepped forward, the shadows of the Underworld curling around his feet. “Leave.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy and sharp. Zeus glared, eyes crackling with lightning, but Hades did not falter. The silence stretched taut, unyielding, until finally, Zeus let out a snarl of rage, the sound splitting through the cave, drawing a shudder from Apollo and a whimper from Hermes. “This is not over,” the god king spat, the words another crack of thunder. “You will regret this, brother.”

Hades did not flinch. “We’ll see.”

With a final crack of thunder, loud enough to deafen, Zeus vanished, the air snapping back into stillness. Silence settled, heavy and thick. Apollo trembled slightly, but didn’t loosen his hold.

And then Hermes broke.

He pulled himself from Apollo’s arms and crumpled to the ground. His wings flared wildly, eyes wide and unseeing. His breathing came fast and harsh, his hands clawing at the stone floor as if he could ground himself through sheer willpower alone. “No, no, no, not again…” he gasped, voice raw and broken.

Without hesitation, Apollo knelt beside him, his hands finding Hermes' shoulders, grounding him. “Hey,” he whispered, voice shaking but steady. “Hey, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

Tiresias staggered forward, still trembling, the power having disappeared when Zeus left. He heard Hermes’ cries and was quick to go soothe, but stopped just short, disbelief and love filling them as they heard Apollo cradling Hermes, whispering soft reassurances. 

For the first time, Tiresias knew it, the way Apollo’s hands were gentle, his voice soft, his eyes full of something raw and aching. He could feel the love and the kindness the god held.

The air in the cave was still, heavy with the remnants of divine power and the echoes of Zeus’s rage. Hermes trembled, his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. His wings fluttered erratically, brushing against Apollo’s arms as his brother held him firm, grounding him in place. “I’ve got you, I’m right here. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you here,” Apollo murmured, voice a constant, unyielding whisper.

Hermes' hands twitched against Apollo’s chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robes. He gasped, breath stuttering as he tried to pull away, not fully, just enough to turn, to reach for the touch he knew would ground him. “Starlight,” he whispered, voice breaking on the word.

Apollo felt the shift and loosened his hold just enough for Hermes to turn. Instantly, Hermes' hands shot out, grasping for Tiresias, fingertips brushing against their arm. Tiresias was there in a heartbeat, hands cupping Hermes' face with a tenderness that brought a fresh wave of tears to the messenger’s eyes. “I’m here, little bird,” Tiresias whispered, his thumb brushing gentle, steady strokes along Hermes' cheek. “I’m right here.”

Hermes collapsed into the touch, wings trembling but slowing in their frantic flutters. “He was here,” he rasped, his voice cracking with fear. “He was right here, Starlight. I…I could feel him.” His wings flared, the feathers spasming like they were still feeling the crackle of Zeus’s lightning. A soft hand ran through them, stilling them. Apollo’s.

Tiresias pressed his forehead against Hermes', their breath mingling in the space between them. “He’s gone,” Tiresias soothed, their hands brushing through Hermes' tangled curls, smoothing out the tension with every pass. “He’s gone, and you’re safe. Hades won’t let him near you. I won’t let him near you.”

Hades stepped forward, his presence filling the room with a steady, unyielding weight. “Hermes,” his voice was low, but it thrummed with authority that left no room for doubt. “Zeus cannot touch you here. I swear it.” His eyes, dark and ancient, held a promise. “I have declared it, and he knows it. You are safe in my realm. He will not cross me.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes still glassy, but the tremor in his wings began to slow. “But he was…he was right here,” he whispered, his gaze flickering between Tiresias and Hades, then back to Apollo.

Hades took another step forward, a calmness that was so at odds with the fury he held only moments before. “And he is gone now. You are under my protection. He will not set foot in my realm again, I promise you.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, his hand squeezing Tiresias’s with desperate strength. Tiresias held him firm, unmoving, the thumb on his cheek never faltering in its gentle strokes. “You’re safe,” Tiresias repeated, his voice soft but unyielding. “Feel me? I’m right here with you. Come on, sweet bird. You’re safe.”

Hermes nodded, still shaky, but steadier than before. “I-I feel you,” he whispered, voice cracking, but there was relief there, the edges of his fear beginning to smooth out.

Apollo remained close, his eyes flickering with worry. He hesitated a moment before gently placing a hand on Hermes’ back. “I’m right here too, little brother,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his wings giving a soft flutter before folding back neatly against his calves. He leaned into Tiresias’s touch, his free hand reaching back for Apollo, catching his wrist and holding on tight.

Hades watched the exchange, his eyes sharp but softening as he took in the way Apollo’s hand found Hermes' and held it firm. He inclined his head. “You are under my protection,” he repeated, his voice as solid as the stone walls around them. “No one, not even Zeus, will take you from this place.”

Hermes swallowed thickly, his wings fluttering gently now, the tremors fading under the combined weight of Tiresias’s touch and Apollo’s firm presence. He closed his eyes, breathing in the warmth and the steadiness of the hands that held him. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Okay.”

Tiresias’s hand brushed through his hair, grounding him further. “You’re alright, my love,” they murmured, voice low and sure. “You’re with us. You’re safe.”

Apollo’s grip did not falter, his hand squeezing Hermes' gently. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised. “Not again. Not ever.”

Hermes let out a shuddering breath, his wings settling fully, the last of the tremors fading. He stayed like that, sandwiched between them, held firm and steady. And for the first time since Zeus had stormed into the cave, Hermes believed it. He was safe. He was safe.

A thought struck him, “Polly,” he said, voice soft. He turned, still held in Tiresias’s grounding hold, to face his brother. Apollo knelt down, meeting Hermes’ eyes.

“What is it, Hermes?” He asked. Hermes’ eyes flitted around the room with a hint of fear.

“You have duties to attend to. You’ll have to go back at some point. What do we do?” His voice cracked. “Father will hurt you. He can’t hurt you.” Hermes’ voice trembled.

“Hermes, leave Zeus to me. I will make it known that Apollo’s actions today are not to be punished. Zeus, mighty as he is, would be wise to defy me. Do not fret, nephew. Your brother will be safe.” Hades said.

Hermes let out a slow, shuddering breath, his wings finally settling, the tremors dissipating as he remained cocooned in the safety of Tiresias and Apollo’s arms. His heart still thundered in his chest, but the warmth surrounding him, the solidness of their presence, it was enough to begin soothing the ragged edges of his fear.

A silence stretched between them, soft and heavy with unspoken words. It was Tiresias who broke it first, their voice gentle but sure. “Apollo,” they began, their hand still resting on Hermes’ back. “Would you…Would you like to stay?”

Apollo’s eyes flickered with surprise, and for a moment, he faltered. His hands, still resting on Hermes’ shoulders, tightened just slightly. “Stay?” he repeated, voice edged with disbelief. “You want me to stay?”

Tiresias inclined his head, their expression softening. “Yes,” they murmured. “We have a…a blanket nest, as Hermes calls it.” He gestured vaguely towards the soft pile in the corner, layered with thick blankets and cushions that Hermes had collected over time. “There is more than enough room for you.” Their voice did not waver, steady and sure, as though the decision had been building beneath the surface all along.

Hermes blinked up at them, his eyes wide and shimmering with surprise. “You want him to stay?” he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Tiresias smiled gently, their hand brushing over Hermes' cheek, grounding him. “Yes,” they said again, more firmly this time. “I think we could all use a little more time together. Don’t you agree, sweet bird?” Hermes nodded. 

“Please,” he whispered.

Apollo’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his expression crumpled with something raw and unguarded. He nodded, swallowing hard. “I would like that,” he admitted. “I would like that very much.”

Tiresias gave a small, soft smile. “Good,” they murmured. He carefully stood, chuckling at Hermes’ whine from being moved. “Silly bird, we have to get up if you want to go over to the blankets.” They said, voice full of love. Hermes stood, pouting, but the love was clear in his eyes, too.

Apollo hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but Tiresias stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Come on, then. It’s warmer over there.”

Apollo stared at the offered hand, his eyes wide with disbelief, before slowly, tentatively, he reached out and took it. Tiresias’s grip was firm, grounding, and Apollo felt the warmth seep through his fingers.

They moved towards the nest of blankets, settling in amidst the soft folds and cushions. Hermes found his place between them, wings draping comfortably along his head and brushing gently against Apollo’s calves. Tiresias’s hand found his shoulder, thumb brushing soothing circles into his back, and Apollo reached out, smoothing a hand over Hermes' curls.

Just as the three settled in, a gentle, but deliberate cough drew their attention. Hades stood near the entrance, his presence like a shadow cast long and deep. His gaze was sharp but gentle as it swept over the three of them. “It seems,” he began, voice steady and even, “that things are finally as they should be.” He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Apollo. “Nephew, you are welcome here, as long as you intend to keep the peace.”

Apollo nodded firmly, his hands still resting on Hermes' shoulders. “I do. I swear it.” His voice did not waver.

Hades smiled faintly. “Good.” He stepped back, the shadows curling around his feet. “I have business to attend to. It seems my brother is still in need of a reminder of whose realm this is.” His eyes flickered with a flash of power, and for a moment, the Underworld seemed to rumble in agreement.

Hermes tensed, his wings flickering nervously. “He won’t come back, will he?” he asked, voice thin and edged with fear. “He’s gone?” His voice broke. Tiresias pressed a kiss to his temple, soothing his worried partner.

Hades turned, his expression softening just slightly. “No, little messenger,” he murmured. “I won’t let him near you. I swear it.” His gaze flickered to Apollo. “And I’ll make sure he understands that you are under my protection as well.”

Apollo blinked in surprise, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Hades inclined his head. “Thank me by keeping him safe,” he replied simply. Then, with one final nod, he turned and strode towards the cave entrance. Shadows peeled away from the walls, gathering around his feet, swirling and curling like sentient smoke. “I will return when I have handled things, to check in on you,” he said over his shoulder. “For now, enjoy each other’s company. It seems long overdue.”

And with that, the shadows consumed him, slipping back into the stone and the dark, leaving the three of them alone in the flickering firelight.

Apollo exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and Tiresias’s hand squeezed Hermes' shoulder, grounding him back into the present. A moment of silence stretched out, soft and unhurried, before Apollo spoke, his voice low and almost hesitant. “Do you…do you still like to play music?”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering slightly. “Of course I do,” he whispered. “Why?”

Apollo smiled softly, reaching beneath his cloak to pull out a familiar case, polished wood gleaming in the low light. “I thought maybe,” he paused, his voice turning tender. “Maybe we could play together. I even brought another.”

Hermes' wings flared with excitement, the feathers brushing against Tiresias, who chuckled, with each flutter. “You brought two?” he asked, voice trembling with joy.

Apollo nodded, his smile growing. “I did. I thought you might want to join me.”

Hermes turned to Tiresias, excitement spilling from his eyes. “Would you like that?” he asked, voice bright and full of hope.

Tiresias’s hand found his cheek, brushing gently. “I would love that, little bird,” they murmured, their voice filled with warmth. “I would love nothing more.”

Apollo moved closer, settling into the nest of blankets, his hands deftly tuning the strings. He passed the second lyre to Hermes, and the messenger’s hands curled around it reverently, his wings giving another excited flutter.

And then they began to play.

The music filled the cave, soft and sweet at first, the melodies weaving through the air like threads of light. Hermes matched Apollo’s movements, fingers dancing over the strings with practiced ease, and Apollo smiled, his own hands moving in perfect harmony. Tiresias sat beside them, their hand resting on Hermes' back.

And for a moment, just a moment, the Underworld was filled with light and music, echoing off the stone walls, reaching deep into the shadows, curling around the three of them as if to say: Here. Here is peace. Here is family.

Notes:

REUNION AT LAST!!!!

I really hope you guys don't mind seeing familial relationships (not romantic) as well as Hermes and Tiresias, cause I absolutely love Hermes and Apollo's relationship.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 25

Summary:

Brotherly bonding! Silliness and chaos.

The final notes of their song faded into the warmth of the cave, the echo lingering like a whisper against the stone. Hermes let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his wings fluttering slightly, brushing against Tiresias’s side. Apollo’s fingers stilled on the strings of his lyre, and for a moment, there was nothing but the soft crackle of the fire and the gentle hum of Lethe far in the distance.

Hermes smiled, the expression soft and genuine, his wings flaring just a little before settling. “I missed that,” he murmured, his gaze drifting between his brother and Tiresias. “I missed you.”

Apollo’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his hand resting gently atop Hermes'. “I’m here now,” he whispered, voice full of something heavy and real. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes’ wings fluttered again, brushing against Apollo’s leg with a soft tickle. “Good,” he whispered back, his hand tightening just slightly over Apollo’s. “I don’t want you to go. Not when I just got you back.”

But before any of them could speak further, the cave shuddered with the faintest rumble, a distant clap of thunder that vibrated through the stone. It wasn’t loud, not like before, but it was there; just enough to remind them of what lingered beyond the safety of the cave, before it was quelled by the soft darkness of Hades.

Hermes stiffened immediately, wings flaring wide and sharp, his gaze snapping to the entrance as if expecting Zeus to come crashing through. His breath came in quick bursts, and Tiresias’s hand immediately found his, grounding him with the warm press of their fingers. “Easy, little bird,” Tiresias murmured, their voice a soft anchor. “We’re safe.”

Apollo straightened, his hand dropping to his side, fingers flexing. “He won’t touch you,” he said, his voice ironclad. “Not here. Not anywhere.” His eyes flashed with determination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Hermes’ gaze flickered to his brother, wings still trembling slightly. “B-but if he finds you–”

Apollo shook his head firmly. “If he finds me, he finds me. I’m not running, Herms.” His hands clenched, knuckles going white. “I am not running. Not from him. Not from you.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering softly, brushing against Tiresias’s face. Tiresias squeezed gently, grounding him once more. “He means it, sweet bird,” Tiresias whispered, their thumb brushing slow, soothing circles over Hermes’ hand. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings flaring slightly before folding back down against his calves. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “Both of you.”

Apollo smiled, his expression softening. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, his hand coming up to ruffle Hermes' curls. “That’s what family’s for.”

The room grew warmer after that, the tension slipping back into comfort. They settled back against the cushions, leaning into the soft warmth of the fire. Conversation flowed easily, almost instinctively, stories slipping from their lips like the strings of Apollo’s lyre. Hermes laughed at tales of Apollo’s mishaps in the mortal realm, while Apollo chuckled at Hermes’ antics, mainly with Cerberus, in the Underworld.

Tiresias listened, a smile playing at their lips, before finally speaking up. “I remember the first time Hermes showed up in my cave,” they began, their voice soft with nostalgia. “He thinks he’s so sneaky, but his wings give him away. I thought I was being haunted.”

Hermes chuckled, nudging Tiresias with his shoulder. “You threw a jar at me!”

“I did!” Tiresias agreed, laughing. “And you deserved it. Who swoops into someone’s home unannounced? Especially when that person is blind?”

Hermes raised his hands defensively, wings fluttering slightly. “I didn’t know  you were blind!” He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Besides, I caught it before it hit the ground.”

“Barely,” Tiresias snorted, their hand moving instinctively to brush through Hermes' curls. “But I suppose I had to keep you around after that. Who else would keep my things from shattering when I lost my temper?”

Apollo chuckled, leaning forward, his gaze warm. “I never thought I’d hear of Hermes catching something instead of breaking it.”

Hermes huffed, wings flaring indignantly. “Hey! I don’t always break things. Not anymore! Tell him, darling!”

Tiresias’s hand brushed over Hermes' curls, a soft hum of agreement leaving their lips. “It’s true,” he said, voice full of pride. “He’s more careful than you’d expect.”

Apollo smiled, his gaze flickering to Tiresias. “I can see that,” he murmured, voice softening. His eyes dropped to Hermes' wings, a flicker of nostalgia threading through his gaze. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” he whispered, reaching out instinctively to brush his fingers along the edge of Hermes’ wing. “May I?”

Hermes hesitated, his wings flaring just slightly. But then he nodded, his wings dropping back down, feathers shivering. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice soft. “You can.”

Apollo moved closer, his hands impossibly gentle as he reached for Hermes’ wings. His fingers moved with practiced care, brushing through the tangled feathers, smoothing out the ones that had gotten ruffled in the earlier chaos. His touch was light, deliberate, and Hermes felt his wings relax under his brother’s care, the tension slowly slipping away.

Tiresias listened, his hand still threading gently through Hermes' hair. “You’ve done this before,” they observed softly, his voice thoughtful.

Apollo nodded, his fingers continuing their gentle work. “When we were younger,” he murmured, his voice full of something distant and soft. “I always took care of his wings since he couldn’t do it himself. He was always flying too fast, running too hard. I had to keep him together.” His voice dipped to a whisper. “I wanted to.”

Tiresias’s smile softened, their hand brushing over Hermes' head. “I think you did a good job,” they murmured, their voice full of warmth.

Apollo looked up, his eyes meeting Tiresias’s unseeing ones. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words heavy with sincerity.

The fire crackled gently, its glow spilling across the stone walls in soft, flickering light. Hermes sat between his brother and Tiresias, wings tucked neatly against his calves, feathers smoothed and pristine from Apollo's careful attention. For the first time in what felt like ages, the tension in his shoulders had melted away, replaced with something soft and warm, almost sleepy. His head rested against Tiresias’s shoulder, fingers loosely laced with theirs, while Apollo leaned back against the cushions, his lyre settled across his lap, fingers idly strumming the strings.

A soft melody began to fill the cave, tender and familiar, weaving through the flicker of firelight like the whisper of an old memory. It was gentle, unhurried, the kind of tune that had drifted through the halls of Olympus on warm summer evenings, lingering in the air long after the sun had set. It spilled from Apollo's fingertips effortlessly, his hands moving with practiced grace, and Hermes felt his wings swaying instinctively, brushing softly against Tiresias's calf.

Hermes leaned further into Tiresias, their grip on his hand tightening just slightly. He closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him, each note tugging at something deep and familiar. And then, just when Hermes thought he could melt into the melody, Tiresias began to sing.

Their voice was low and smooth, winding through the melody like a ribbon. It was soft at first, almost a hum, threading through Apollo’s music with the gentle ease of a river winding through a quiet forest. The words were familiar to Hermes, ancient and timeless, a song that spoke of warmth and longing, of light that did not fade, of nights spent cradled in soft arms and the feeling of being safe.

Hermes opened his eyes, blinking slowly, and turned his head towards them. “You know this song?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe.

Tiresias smiled softly, their hand brushing gently through his hair. “Of course I do,” they murmured, voice slipping effortlessly back into the melody. “I used to sing it often, to my children,” they paused, the words trailing off, but the song remained, winding around them like a protective veil.

Apollo’s hands never faltered, his gaze fixed on his fingers as they danced across the strings. But his expression had softened, his eyes glimmering with something tender and wistful. He played with a gentleness that Hermes had not heard in a long time, each note deliberate and warm, threading through Tiresias’s voice as if it had always belonged there.

Hermes sighed, his wings giving a soft, lazy flicker. “You have a beautiful voice, Starlight,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move from where he rested, just let the words spill from him, unbidden but true.

Tiresias’s hand tightened around his. “I am glad you think so,” they replied, voice slipping back into the melody without pause. Their hand brushed over the feathers on his head, soothing and grounding. “I haven’t sung in a long time.”

“You should,” Apollo murmured, his voice soft and sincere. His fingers stilled on the lyre for a brief moment, just enough to look up at them fully. “You should sing more often.” There was a weight to his words, a truth that hung between them, unspoken but understood.

Tiresias’s smile softened, and their voice carried on, unyielding and full of warmth. “Perhaps I will,” they replied, voice slipping back into the song with ease. “Perhaps I will.”

Apollo resumed playing, and Tiresias’s voice carried on, filling the space of the cave with warmth and light. Hermes let his eyes slip shut again, his wings settling fully, and let himself drift in that space, that gentle song. He felt safe, felt whole, cradled between the two people who meant the most to him in all the realms. His head rested against Tiresias’s shoulder, their fingers still intertwined, while Apollo leaned back, the song having ended, his lyre resting comfortably in his lap, fingers occasionally brushing the strings to send a gentle hum of melody through the room.

Apollo’s hand drifted over the strings, and the soft tune shifted slightly, the rhythm picking up, playful and inviting. “You know, it’s not fair if we’re the only ones sharing stories,” he teased, his gaze flicking to Tiresias. “I believe it’s your turn, Prophet.”

Tiresias raised a brow, his head tilting slightly in Apollo’s direction. “Oh?” they mused, a hint of a smile curling at their lips. “And what would you like to hear, Lord of Music?”

Apollo chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “Something from before,” he said, leaning back against the cushions, his hands moving absently over the strings. “I’ve heard fragments of your story, but I want to hear it from you.” His gaze softened, and his hands stilled, the lyre going quiet. “If you’re comfortable.”

Hermes glanced up at Tiresias, his wings giving a curious flutter. Tiresias let out a slow breath, his fingers gently brushing over Hermes’ hand. “I suppose it is only fair,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful. “Very well.”

Tiresias shifted, the firelight dancing across his face, shadows flickering in the lines of his features. He took a breath, steadying himself before he began. “I was not always as you see me now,” he said softly, his voice carrying a weight of history and experience. “I was a shepherd first, wandering the mountainsides of Thebes. My days were simple, quiet. That was before…” His voice trailed off, and Hermes squeezed his hand gently.

Tiresias smiled faintly, continuing, “Before I was drawn into the business of gods.” He let out a small chuckle, shaking their head. “It all began with an argument, you know. Between Lady Hera and Lord Zeus.”

Apollo’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “An argument?”

Tiresias nodded. “A debate, really, about who experienced more pleasure in love, man or woman. It was a curious thing to argue about, but the gods do love their games.” His voice softened, and Hermes' hand squeezed theirs. “And I was the unfortunate mortal to stumble upon it.”

Hermes' wings gave a soft, worried flicker. “What happened?” he whispered.

Tiresias took a breath, his expression serene. “I had encountered two serpents entwined upon the ground, and without thought, I struck them apart with my staff.” He paused, the memory washing over him. “And that, of course, brought Hera’s curse upon me. For seven years, I lived as a woman. Seven years of understanding a different kind of existence, of learning the way the world looks through different eyes.” His voice was calm, but there was something deeper there, something unspoken.

Apollo’s eyes were wide. “You…you were a woman?” he asked, voice hushed with awe.

Tiresias smiled faintly. “Yes. And I lived as one. I had a wonderful family, three beautiful daughters.” His hand drifted up to brush the curls from Hermes’ face. “And then, as fate would have it, I stumbled upon the same two serpents once more. I knew to leave them alone, that time, and I returned to my original form.”

Apollo’s eyes glittered with fascination. “And that is when Hera and Zeus called upon you,” he murmured.

Tiresias inclined his head. “Indeed. I was summoned to settle their debate.” His smile grew wry. “And I, in all my wisdom, answered truthfully.” He chuckled. “That woman experienced more pleasure. Zeus was pleased, Hera…not so much.” His grip tightened ever so slightly on Hermes’ hand. “And for my truth, I was struck blind.”

Apollo gasped. “That’s, that’s cruel,” he whispered, voice trembling with disbelief. Hermes nodded, already knowing the story and its twisted outcomes.

Tiresias smiled softly, turning towards him, though his eyes stared unseeing past him. “Do not be,” they whispered gently. “For it was in that moment that Zeus granted me something in return. He gave me the gift of prophecy. To see what others cannot.”

Apollo nodded, his expression thoughtful. “And it is said that your visions are more powerful than even many of my oracles,” he noted, his voice full of respect. “I never understood why until now.”

Tiresias tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I did not ask for it,” he murmured. “But I have made it mine. Just as I have made my life mine.” His expression softened, his hand brushing along Hermes' cheek. “And now, I have found a different kind of sight. One I would not trade for anything.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he leaned into the touch, his eyes shimmering. “I love you,” he whispered, the words coming out so softly that they barely left his lips. But Tiresias heard, and their smile grew.

“And I love you, my little bird.”

A silence settled over the three of them, heavy with the weight of history and affection. Apollo’s gaze softened, and he let out a breath, his hands drifting over the strings of his lyre. “I never knew,” he murmured, voice laced with awe. “I never knew all that you had been through.”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound soft and knowing. “We all have our stories, Lord of Light,” they replied gently. “And I imagine you have yours as well.”

Apollo blinked, his expression growing somber. He glanced down at the lyre in his lap, his fingers brushing over the strings almost absentmindedly. “I do,” he whispered. “I suppose I do.”

The fire crackled between them, the soft hum of the Underworld’s eternal song threading through the silence. Hermes leaned back against Tiresias, his wings folding neatly against his calves, and for a moment, everything was still. Peaceful.

“Would you share yours?” Tiresias asked, his voice soft and full of understanding. “We’ve all carried so much. Perhaps it would lighten the burden.”

Apollo hesitated, his fingers stilling on the lyre. He swallowed, eyes flickering up to meet Tiresias’s unseeing gaze. “I,” he paused, his voice wavering. “I think I could do that.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he turned to face his brother, a soft smile spreading across his face. “We’d love to hear it, Polly.” Though Hermes knew a great many stories of Apollo’s

Apollo took a breath, his fingers plucking a soft, melancholy chord on the lyre. “Alright then,” he murmured. “Let me tell you.”

The fire crackled softly, its warmth spilling across the three of them, casting shadows that flickered and danced along the stone walls. Tiresias’s tale still hung heavy in the air, the weight of it settling between them like a whispered echo. Apollo sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap, gaze fixed on the flames. His fingers twitched idly, as if strumming invisible strings, and the cave fell into a soft, thoughtful silence.

Hermes shifted, leaning back against Tiresias’s chest, his wings tucked close, feathers still shining from Apollo's careful preening. His eyes flickered to his brother, studying the faraway look in his eyes. “Pollo?” he asked gently, his voice threading softly through the quiet. “Are you alright?”

Apollo blinked, the haze of thought clearing from his eyes. He turned to look at Hermes, his smile small and bittersweet. “I’m alright,” he replied, though his voice wavered just slightly. His hands moved to his lap, fingers curling instinctively as if holding something fragile. “I was just thinking.”

Tiresias tilted his head slightly, listening with quiet intent. “What about?” he asked, voice smooth and even. His hand moved in slow, rhythmic strokes along Hermes' arm, a steady comfort.

Apollo’s gaze dropped to the lyre still resting at his side, his fingers brushing along the strings absently. A soft, melancholic note hummed through the space, a whisper of something unfinished. “My son,” he said finally, his voice barely above a breath. “Asclepius.”

Hermes stiffened just slightly, his wings twitching. “Pollo,” he whispered, his eyes going soft with sympathy.

Apollo shook his head, offering a small, sad smile. “It’s alright. I want to talk about him.” His hand drifted along the lyre’s strings again, the notes threading softly through the space between them. “You know he was brilliant,” he began, his voice steady but threaded with something raw. “The things he could do. I’ve never seen anyone with hands as gentle, as sure.” His eyes brightened with memory, the shadows flickering like distant stars. “He could heal anything, anyone. It was like he was born for it.”

Tiresias listened, his expression thoughtful and open. “I have heard stories of him,” he murmured. “A healer without equal. A gift from the gods.”

Apollo nodded, his gaze distant. “He was a gift. He was,” his voice cracked, just slightly. “He was mine.” His hands stilled over the lyre, the strings going silent beneath his touch. “And he was taken.”

Hermes leaned forward, his hand finding Apollo’s, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of it. “I’m so sorry.”

Apollo’s gaze met his, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, brothers bound by loss and grief. “I should have protected him,” Apollo murmured, voice thick with regret. “I should have done more. I was his father. It was my job to keep him safe.”

Hermes' wings drooped, brushing against Tiresias’s legs. “You did everything you could,” he said firmly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Apollo shook his head, the shadows deepening in his eyes. “But it was, Hermes. It was my pride, my arrogance that brought Zeus’s wrath upon him.” His voice broke, the words slipping from him like shards of glass. “I thought. I thought I could change fate. That I could bring back the dead. But that kind of power,” He swallowed hard. “It’s too much. It was too much for him.”

Tiresias’s hand stilled on Hermes’ arm, his head tilting just slightly. “You loved him,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “And you wanted to save him. There is no fault in that.”

Apollo looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “But I failed him,” he whispered. “I couldn’t protect him. Zeus struck him down, and I-I couldn’t stop it.”

Hermes’ wings flared slightly, the feathers brushing against the floor. “And you fought for him,” he countered, voice firm and unyielding. “I know you did. You defied Zeus. You tried.”

Apollo’s gaze dropped, his fingers curling around the edges of the lyre. “I did,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “And for that, Zeus…He,” His hands flexed, knuckles going white. “He destroyed everything.”

The silence stretched thin, taut with pain. Tiresias finally spoke, his voice soft and steady. “You are not the only one to defy him,” they murmured. “You are not alone in your grief.”

Apollo looked up, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “You too?” he asked softly, his gaze searching Tiresias’s unseeing eyes.

Tiresias nodded, their hand drifting back to brush gently along Hermes' arm. “We all have our burdens,” he replied, voice soft. “Some are simply harder to carry.” His hand stilled, resting over Hermes’ heart. “But we do not have to carry them alone.”

Apollo’s breath shuddered, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. His hand drifted back to the lyre, fingers brushing along the strings with a soft, trembling grace. A low, mournful melody spilled forth, winding through the cave like a whisper of sorrow. It filled the space between them, seeping into the stone, lingering in the shadows.

Hermes leaned back into Tiresias, his wings fluttering softly. “We’re here, Polly,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “We’re here.”

Apollo nodded, his hands still moving over the strings. “I know,” he whispered back, his voice breaking on the last word. “I know.”

The song wound on, rising and falling like the tides, washing over them in gentle waves. Hermes reached out, his hand settling on Apollo’s, steadying him, grounding him. And in that moment, the three of them sat together, the music weaving their stories into something whole, something unbroken.

Apollo’s smile softened, and his hand drifted back to his lyre, fingers plucking a few more soft notes. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asked, his voice brightening. “One my mother used to sing me when I was young?”

Hermes perked up, his wings fluttering gently. “Yes,” he whispered, his eyes bright and wide. “I would like that.”

Tiresias smiled softly. “As would I,” he added.

Apollo’s fingers danced across the strings, the first notes floating gently through the air. It was softer than the last melody, a lullaby of sorts, winding through the space with a gentle, unhurried ease. Hermes closed his eyes, leaning further against Tiresias, and Tiresias tilted their head, listening intently, their hand still running soothing circles over Hermes' back.

The song wound on, delicate and pure, filling the space between them. Apollo’s gaze flickered up every now and then, catching the way Tiresias’s expression softened, the way Hermes leaned into their touch. He played with more care than he had in years, each note deliberate and full of warmth.

When the final notes faded, Apollo looked up, his gaze steady. “Did you like it?” he asked, voice soft.

Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering. “I did,” he whispered. “It reminded me of Mama.”

Apollo’s eyes shimmered, and he looked away quickly, his hands brushing over the strings. “That’s what it was meant to do,” he murmured.

Tiresias squeezed Hermes' hand, their smile gentle. “Thank you for playing,” they said, their voice sincere. “It was beautiful.”

Apollo’s gaze flickered back up, and he smiled. “Of course,” he replied. “I could play another, if you’d like.”

Hermes brightened immediately, his wings giving an excited flicker. “Yes, please!” he exclaimed, his voice eager.

Tiresias chuckled softly, their hand brushing through Hermes' curls. “You’ve made him very happy, Apollo,” they murmured. Hermes huffed and swatted at the prophet’s hand.

“Stop talking about me like I’m a baby,” he complained.

Apollo chuckled, his hands adjusting his lyre. “Then I suppose I’d better keep playing,” he said, ignoring Hermes’ pout with a grin. His fingers danced over the strings again, a new melody taking shape, light and bright.

Hermes leaned back against Tiresias, surrendering to the music, his eyes slipping closed, and for a moment, everything was perfect. 

“You know,” Apollo began, plucking a lazy chord on his lyre, “I haven’t seen you this relaxed in centuries, Hermes.”

Hermes grinned, stretching his wings, letting the feathers brush the blankets with soft whispers of sound. “I suppose it has been a while,” he mused, his wings giving a delicate twitch. “Guess that’s what happens when you’re not constantly running from one crisis to another.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, fingers still tangled in Hermes' hair. “You’ve been running for far too long,” he murmured, voice tender.

Hermes just smiled, his wings flaring out just slightly, brushing the edges of Tiresias’s robes. “Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet conviction. “Not anymore.”

A moment of silence stretched between them, soft and comfortable. Then, without warning, Apollo leaned over and poked one of Hermes' head wings. Hermes flinched dramatically, wings flaring wide. “Hey!” he cried, half in surprise and half in laughter. His eyes narrowed, and a grin spread across his face. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

Apollo shrugged, entirely too smug. “I know I am,” he quipped, poking the wing again, this time a little harder. Hermes squawked indignantly, scrambling upright, pulling himself out of Tiresias’s lap, wings flaring wildly.

“You. You can’t just–” Hermes stammered, flapping his wings to shake off Apollo’s hand. Apollo just laughed, reaching out to tug one of the head wings again, his fingers brushing over the soft feathers with surprising gentleness. Hermes squirmed, tripping and falling into the blankets, his wings flapping uselessly. “A-Apollo! Not my wings!”

“Oh, come on. You’re so jumpy!” Apollo teased, his grin growing wider. “You always have been.”

“Have not!” Hermes shot back, but the giggle that escaped him betrayed the truth. He reached up, trying to protect his wings from Apollo’s playful jabs, but Apollo was faster, fingers darting out to brush along the feathers. Hermes yelped, wings flicking wildly, and pulling himself upright, one well-placed jab sent him stumbling back into Tiresias’s lap.

Tiresias, who had been listening to the exchange with quiet amusement, finally spoke up, their hand reaching out to brush along one of Hermes' head wings. “Is it really that ticklish?” they asked, their voice soft and curious.

Hermes gasped, wings flaring under Tiresias’s touch. “W-w-wait! S-stop that!” he squeaked, laughter spilling out unbidden. “They’re sensitive! And you…you can’t just–” But Tiresias’s hand didn’t move, their fingertips brushing curiously over the downy feathers, and Hermes all but collapsed back into their arms, giggling uncontrollably. “It’s all, eek! Mood-based. Polly, stop!”

Hermes flapped his wings uselessly, wriggling under the combined attention of his brother and his lover. “S-stop teaming up on me!” he shrieked, laughter bubbling up again as Apollo reached out, poking his side. Hermes jerked away, tumbling back into Tiresias’s chest. “Traitors, both of you!”

“Oh, is that what we are?” Apollo grinned, eyes sparkling. He reached out, barely brushing against the feathers at Hermes' ankles, and the reaction was instantaneous. Hermes let out a startled yelp, his wings giving an uncoordinated flap as he scrambled back, eyes wide with shock and betrayal.

“No. Don’t you dare,” he warned, though his voice was already cracking with a laugh he couldn’t contain.

Apollo’s grin only widened, his hands hovering threateningly just above the soft, downy feathers. “Oh?” he teased, eyes glittering with mischief. “I seem to remember you being a bit more ticklish than that.”

Hermes barely had time to react before Apollo struck. His fingers skittered along the delicate wings at Hermes' ankles, just grazing the sensitive spots where the feathers met skin. Hermes shrieked, his wings flaring wildly. “N-No! Wait, wait!” Hermes gasped, voice pitched with laughter, but Apollo showed no mercy.

“You should’ve seen him as a kid,” Apollo called out to Tiresias, who was grinning widely at the sound of Hermes’ joyful, unrestrained laughter. “Used to run halfway across Olympus just to get away from me!”

Hermes twisted, flailing helplessly, his wings brushing the stone floor in frantic bursts. His laughter came in breathless waves, broken up by squeaks and hiccuping gasps. “P-Pollo, stop!” he cried, voice cracking with glee. “Mercy! Mercy!”

Apollo just chuckled, his fingers trailing along the delicate bones of the ankle wings with expert precision. “Mercy? From me?” He raised a brow, hands still moving. “I don’t think I remember that being part of our games.”

“Y-You’re awful!” Hermes gasped, kicking out his legs with a wild desperation. But he was laughing too hard to put any real force behind it, and Apollo just leaned back slightly to dodge the flailing limbs, his fingers never once losing their rhythm.

Hermes' laughter grew louder, filling the cave and bouncing off the walls, light and infectious. It was genuine and full, the kind that came from somewhere deep in his chest, like it hadn’t been let loose in far too long. Apollo’s grin softened, and for a moment, he slowed his movements, just enough to let Hermes catch his breath.

Apollo raised a brow, his grin widening. “You’re right, that is pretty funny.” His hands stilled, resting on Hermes' ankle, the feathers brushing softly against his palms. “I forgot how much of a ticklish mess you are.”

“I,” he paused, trying to calm his racing heart, “am not. Ticklish.” He said. Tiresias grinned behind him.

“Oh, aren’t you, sweet bird?” He asked, hands slowly finding the god’s sides.

Hermes blinked, suspicion flaring in his eyes as he turned to face Tiresias. “Starlight. Don’t you dare–”

But Tiresias had already moved. His fingers pressed gently against the soft space just above his hips, and Hermes screeched, wings flaring wildly in surprise. “W-Wait! Starlight! Not you too!” he cried, dissolving into fresh peals of laughter as Tiresias’s fingers skittered with shocking precision.

Apollo leaned back, grinning widely. “Oh, you’ve gone and done it now, Tiresias,” he chuckled. “He’s not getting away this time.”

“I’m just testing his theory,” Tiresias responded calmly, though his hands never relented. “He said gods aren’t ticklish. I’m merely trying to prove him right.”

Hermes was helpless, caught between Tiresias’s steady, methodical touch and Apollo’s feather-light teasing along his ankles. His wings flapped erratically, brushing against Tiresias’s arms and fluttering against Apollo’s hands. “O-Okay, I yield!” Hermes cried, voice cracking with giggles. “I-I yield, you win!”

Tiresias finally relented, his hands falling back to a gentle hold around Hermes' waist. He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Well, I think we’ve found the truth,” he murmured, voice dripping with affection. “Gods are indeed ticklish. Or at least, one god is.”

Hermes huffed, still giggling as he slumped back against Tiresias’s chest, wings sagging slightly from the exertion. “Betrayed,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his words. “Utterly betrayed.”

Tiresias just smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Not betrayed, little bird. Just humbled.”

Hermes grumbled something unintelligible, his wings fluttering one last time before he melted fully into Tiresias’s embrace, a soft, lingering smile still stretching his lips. Apollo watched the two with a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there in ages, his hands coming to rest on his knees as he leaned back, basking in the soft glow of laughter that still lingered in the air.

“Alright, alright,” Hermes gasped, brushing the stray curls from his face, his cheeks flushed pink. “No more tickling. I surrender.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” Apollo teased, his fingers flexing menacingly. Hermes yelped, instinctively scooting back until he was curled up in Tiresias’s lap. Tiresias chuckled, their hand moving to brush over the top of Hermes' wings, smoothing the feathers that had flared up during the playful assault.

“Now, now,” Tiresias murmured, voice warm and teasing, “I think he’s had enough, for now.”

Hermes shot him a grateful look, wings settling back down. “Thank you,” he sighed, leaning back against Tiresias, eyes fluttering shut. “I swear, you two are menaces.”

“And you love us for it,” Apollo shot back, leaning back against the cushions, his grin still wide and unyielding.

Hermes snorted, stretching out his wings with a contented sigh. “Maybe I do.”

Before another word could be exchanged, the familiar weight of shadows and quiet power slipped into the cave. The air cooled just slightly, like a whisper of midnight settling in after a long day. Hades stepped through the threshold, his presence both commanding and gentle, the flicker of the firelight dancing across the edges of his form. He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three of them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Hades watched them, eyes flicking from Hermes’ flushed face to the crumpled nest of blankets, then to the way Apollo’s hands rested easily across his lap. His expression softened, the edges of his mouth curling into something uncharacteristically warm.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth. “I leave you alone for a few hours and come back to find my realm bursting with laughter.” He raised a brow, stepping forward. “Should I be worried?”

Hermes sat up quickly, wings flaring just slightly before settling. “Uncle Hades!” he greeted, his voice still a little breathless. “You’re back.” He paused, then hesitated, glancing at the others. “Did it…did it go alright?” His voice was small, and he curled back into Tiresias’s hold, the prophet’s arms gentle around him.

Hades nodded, his gaze never leaving Hermes. “It went just fine. Your father has been reminded of his boundaries.” His voice was cool, assuring. “You have nothing to fear.”

Hermes let out a long breath, relief pouring from his shoulders, his wings drooping in tandem. “That’s…that’s good,” he murmured, his hand instinctively reaching for Apollo, who took it without hesitation.

Hades' eyes softened further, and he stepped closer, gaze gentle. “I must admit,” he began, his voice almost reverent, “it’s been a long time since I heard you laugh like that.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flickering across his features. “You…you heard me?”

Hades nodded. “I did. It carried through the stone.” His expression softened even more. “It was good to hear.”

A flicker of something soft passed over Hermes' face, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I—” he hesitated, voice cracking just a little. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” His eyes turned to Tiresias, then to Apollo. “Not since…” He didn’t finish, but he didn’t have to. They all understood.

Hades inclined his head, his gaze gentle. “Then perhaps it is long overdue.” He looked to Tiresias, his eyes knowing and warm. “It seems you’ve been well cared for, nephew.”

Tiresias straightened slightly, his arms still gently wrapped around Hermes’. “I’m trying my best,” he replied, voice soft but sure. “He deserves it.”

Hades gave a nod of approval. “I couldn’t agree more.” His eyes flickered back to Apollo, who was watching the exchange with something akin to wonder. “And you. It’s good to see you back where you belong.”

Apollo blinked, surprise flaring in his expression before he smiled, small and grateful. “Thank you.”

Hades' expression softened just a fraction more, his presence easing the weight in the room. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, voice smooth. “I only wanted to ensure that everything was well.” He stepped back towards the entrance, shadows already curling around his feet. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

Hermes leaned forward, his wings flaring slightly. “Wait,” he called, voice bright. “Thank you, Uncle. For everything.”

Hades paused, his expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, he nodded. “Of course,” he replied, his voice carrying a weight that could only be described as fondness. “You are family.”

And with that, he was gone, shadows slipping around him like a whisper, leaving the three of them alone in the warm glow of the fire. Silence hung in the air for a moment before Apollo leaned back, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Well,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “That was unexpectedly kind.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, brushing gentle circles over Hermes' back. “Hades has always been more compassionate than most give him credit for.”

Hermes just smiled, his wings swaying in contented flaps. “I think he’s right,” he murmured, his gaze slipping between Apollo and Tiresias. “It’s been too long since I laughed like that.”

Apollo smiled, leaning back into the cushions, his hands falling to his lap. “Well,” he said, voice playful, “I suppose we’ll just have to make up for lost time, won’t we?”

Hermes' wings flickered, brushing gently against Tiresias’s robes. “I suppose we will.”

Notes:

I wasn't planning on posting today, but I just failed a quiz and decided why not. This isn't my favorite chapter that I've written. It's just not as good as the others. Hope you enjoyed it anyways.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 26

Summary:

Some more brother time. Silly and sweet.

Chapter 26:

They settled back into the cushions, the fire crackling gently, the tension from before having evaporated into nothing but warmth. Apollo’s lyre still lay across his lap, his fingers brushing absently over the strings. “Should we pick up where we left off?” he asked, his gaze flicking back to Hermes.

Hermes snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets, wings folded neatly against his calves. Tiresias’s hand was still pressed to his back, rubbing slow, grounding circles, and Apollo sat cross-legged across from him, his lyre balanced casually in his lap. The flicker of the firelight played across their faces, casting long shadows and warm light that made the space feel cozier, more intimate.

“Alright,” Apollo began, settling himself back against the cushions with a grin. “I think it’s my turn to share a story about Hermes.”

Hermes' wings twitched, immediately on guard. “Oh, no,” he objected, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t think that’s necessary. We can–uh, we can skip me.”

Apollo’s grin widened. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied smoothly. He leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. “I think it’s time Tiresias hears about the Great Wine Incident.”

Hermes flushed immediately, his wings flaring out slightly in protest. “Apollo,” he warned, voice sharp but not unkind. “Don’t you dare.”

But Apollo only chuckled, his fingers strumming an idle chord on his lyre. “So there we were, on the outskirts of Thrace,” he began, ignoring Hermes' protests entirely. “Hermes, the ever-clever messenger, had come up with this grand idea that he could out-drink Dionysus.”

Tiresias’s eyebrows raised, his head tilting just slightly. “Out-drink the god of wine?” they echoed, voice threaded with amusement.

“Yes!” Apollo exclaimed, clearly enjoying himself. “He was so confident too. Kept going on and on about how he’d been to so many mortal celebrations, how he knew how to handle his liquor.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “He did not handle his liquor.”

Hermes groaned, his head wings covering his face, cheeks flushing. “I hate you,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words.

Apollo only laughed, strumming another chord. “So there we are, Hermes already three glasses deep, and Dionysus is barely getting started. But Hermes, oh Hermes, oh no, he’s not going to lose gracefully. He tries to sneakily switch the wine with water.”

Tiresias’s hand flew to his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Did it work?”

“No!” Apollo crowed, slapping his knee. “Dionysus caught him immediately. He just looks over the rim of his cup and goes, ‘Oh, really?’ and with a snap of his fingers, every bit of water Hermes had stashed away turned right back to wine.”

Tiresias burst into laughter, and Hermes groaned louder, ankle wings flaring out with embarrassment, head wings pressing closer, trying to cover all of him. “That wasn’t even the worst part,” Apollo continued, his grin wide and gleeful. “Hermes, determined not to be outdone, keeps going. Glass after glass, until he’s practically swimming in it. By the end of the night, he’s up on a table, trying to convince a group of satyrs that he invented music.”

“I did invent music!” Hermes protested, ankle wings flaring indignantly.

“Oh? Is that why you couldn’t hold a tune to save your life that night?” Apollo shot back, eyes glimmering with delight.

Hermes' cheeks flushed and even darker crimson, and he covered the parts of his face not hidden by his head wings with his hands. “I was drunk!” he mumbled, voice muffled.

Apollo laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “And then,” he added, barely able to contain his amusement, “when Dionysus finally called it a night, Hermes swore, swore!, that the stars were singing to him and tried to conduct an orchestra made entirely of clouds.”

Tiresias was nearly doubled over with laughter, their hand clutching at their chest. “I would have liked to have seen that,” they managed between chuckles.

“Oh, it was a sight,” Apollo said, his grin softening as he looked at Hermes. “He never did live that down.”

Hermes groaned into his hands, Tiresias’s arms wrapped around him, hands finding his wings trembling over his face.

“Oh, little bird, don’t be embarrassed. You’re quite the funny god.” He murmured, fingers gently brushing the soft wings until they lifted. 

“You know, Father put a drink limit on Hermes at every banquet and feast following that night,” Apollo teased. Hermes' wings flared out as he let out a huff of annoyance.

Hermes straightened up, his wings twitching indignantly. “Oh, you think that’s bad? I seem to recall a certain hunter getting bested by a mortal in archery.”

Apollo’s grin slipped just a little. “That was a fluke,” he defended, though his tone was still playful. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Hermes snorted, his wings flicking with satisfaction. “Oh, I’m sure that’s what it was. You only hit the target once in ten tries.”

Tiresias chuckled, turning towards Apollo. “A mortal bested you?” they asked, voice laced with curiosity.

Apollo’s cheeks pinked just slightly, but he waved it off. “It was a lucky shot,” he defended. “I was distracted. Hermes had just told me that Hera was furious with me for something I hadn’t done.” He shot his brother a glare. “I was a little preoccupied.”

Hermes grinned, his wings flaring out just slightly. “Oh, right. Because you never meddled in my affairs, right?” He turned to Tiresias, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Did he tell you about the time he turned all of my messenger doves green because I beat him in a foot race?”

Tiresias raised their eyebrows, their lips twitching with amusement. “Green?”

Hermes nodded enthusiastically. “Bright green! And I couldn’t change them back for a week! Everyone I delivered messages to thought I was playing some kind of joke. All because I, the god of speed, was faster than him.”

Apollo shrugged, completely unrepentant. “They were easier to spot,” he defended, voice light.

Hermes rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t turn your chariot into a pumpkin,” he shot back, wings flicking playfully.

Apollo leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “You wouldn’t dare,” he teased.

Hermes leaned forward, his grin wide and full of mischief. “Try me.”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound low and rich. “I’m starting to think you two have more stories than I could ever imagine,” they murmured, voice warm.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Apollo said, his voice softening as he looked between them. “But I think we have all the time in the world now to share them, don’t we?”

Hermes’ wings softened, brushing lightly against Tiresias’s leg. He smiled, something tender threading through the expression. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice full of warmth. “I think we do.”

The laughter between them slowly faded into gentle smiles, the soft flicker of the fire casting dancing shadows along the stone walls. Hermes leaned back against Tiresias, feeling the steady rise and fall of their breathing beneath him, the comforting rhythm grounding him. Apollo’s lyre rested across his lap, his fingers idly strumming a few light notes that filled the space with a tender hum.

Tiresias chuckled softly, their fingers brushing through Hermes' hair. “I must admit,” they began, voice warm with mirth, “I never imagined the great messenger god could be bested by a cup of wine.”

Hermes groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You weren’t there. Dionysus cheats. I swear it,” he defended, though his voice was thick with laughter.

Apollo leaned back, his own smile stretched wide across his face. “Oh, sure, that’s what it was,” he teased. “Dionysus cheats, not you just being a complete lightweight.”

“I am not a lightweight,” Hermes retorted, wings flicking out in indignation. He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I’m just efficient.”

Apollo snorted. “Efficient? That’s what we’re calling it?”

Hermes grinned, his wings flaring again with a playful flutter. “That’s what I’m calling it, yes. I save time by getting drunk faster. Very efficient.”

Tiresias laughed, their hand resting gently against Hermes' head, fingers smoothing through his curls. Hermes sighed happily and leaned further into his embrace. “I think I’d like to hear more of these stories,” they said, voice soft but eager. “I’ve spent so long hearing only myths and rumors. It’s lovely to hear them straight from you two.”

Hermes beamed, his wings fluttering with excitement. “Oh, there are plenty of stories,” he promised. He turned to Apollo, eyes sparkling. “Remember the time with the peacock feathers?”

Apollo groaned, throwing his head back. “You promised you’d never bring that up again,” he objected, though his voice was threaded with laughter.

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident on their face. “Peacock feathers?” they inquired.

Hermes cackled, leaning back against Tiresias with a grin. “Oh, it was brilliant,” he began. “So, Apollo over here decided he was going to impress Hera by offering her this grand display of peacock feathers. He was so proud of them, had them laid out in perfect arrangement and everything.”

Apollo grimaced, his fingers strumming a discordant note on his lyre. “I was trying to be kind,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement.

Hermes continued, ignoring his brother’s grumbling. “Anyway, I may have decided that it would be funny if the feathers suddenly…disappeared.”

Tiresias leaned in, eyebrows raising. “Disappeared?”

Hermes nodded, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Gone! Right before she arrived. Poof!” He threw his hands up for emphasis. “Apollo’s standing there, all regal and mighty, and Hera walks in expecting this grand gesture, and instead, she gets a very confused Apollo holding a handful of nothing.”

Tiresias burst out laughing, their hand flying to cover their mouth. “Oh, gods. What did she say?”

Apollo rubbed his temples, though he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “She thought I was pulling some kind of joke. Spent the next hour trying to convince her I wasn’t. Hermes just sat there, sipping ambrosia and giggling to himself.”

Hermes shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “It was worth it.” His wings fluttered proudly, feathers catching the firelight. “I don’t regret a thing.”

Tiresias shook their head, still chuckling. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have the two of you together all the time. I’m surprised Olympus wasn’t in shambles.”

“Oh, it nearly was,” Apollo replied smoothly. He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Like the time Hermes decided he was going to take Artemis’s arrows and replace them with flowers.”

Hermes gasped, wings flaring out dramatically. “You said you’d never mention that!” he protested, though there was no real anger in his voice.

“Oh, I’m mentioning it,” Apollo laughed, eyes bright. “Artemis was furious. She went to hunt, pulled back her bow, and out popped a bouquet of daisies.”

Tiresias snorted, their hand coming up to cover their grin. “And you lived to tell the tale?”

Hermes shrugged. “She thought it was funny. Eventually.” He paused, his wings twitching. “It only took, like…a month. And a lot of groveling.”

“And an offering of honey cakes and three new arrows,” Apollo added smugly.

Hermes groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re the worst,” he mumbled, though his voice was thick with affection.

Tiresias laughed, their fingers brushing soothingly through Hermes' hair. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The two of you really were trouble, weren’t you?”

Apollo leaned back, his grin widening. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The fire crackled on, throwing sparks and shadows that danced around the room. The walls of the cave seemed to warm with the sound of laughter, old memories weaving into new ones, blending seamlessly. It was like they were carving out their own little piece of Olympus, right there in the Underworld, tucked away in warmth and light.

Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering with contentment. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, voice soft but steady.

Apollo’s smile softened, his eyes meeting Hermes'. “Me too, little brother,” he replied, voice low and full of something tender.

Tiresias leaned back, their head resting against the stone behind them, the firelight catching in their unseeing eyes. “I think I could get used to this,” they murmured, their hand still smoothing through Hermes' hair.

Apollo grinned, settling his lyre back into his lap. “Oh, you don’t have a choice,” he replied smoothly. “I’ll be around as often as I can.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings fluttering once more. “Good,” he whispered. “I think I like that.”

They settled into silence for a moment, the fire crackling and the soft strum of Apollo’s lyre filling the room with a gentle hum of music. Hermes leaned back into Tiresias, the weight of safety and family settling around him like a warm blanket.

Apollo strummed his lyre idly, the soft notes filling the space with a comfortable hum. Every now and then, Hermes would hum along, his voice soft and almost dreamy, blending with the music in a way that felt both ancient and eternal.

But Tiresias, ever perceptive, noticed the way Hermes' wings were starting to droop, the delicate feathers brushing against the stone floor with each flutter. His eyes blinked slower and slower, and his head grew heavier against Tiresias’s shoulder.

“You’re fading, little bird,” Tiresias murmured, his voice soft and fond.

Hermes blinked, as if suddenly realizing he’d been slipping. He sat up straighter, wings flaring slightly with the movement. “No, I’m not,” he insisted, though the words were slurred with drowsiness. “I’m, I’m awake.” He blinked again, more rapidly, as if trying to chase the sleep away.

Apollo chuckled softly, setting the lyre down beside him. “Hermes,” he began, his voice gentle. “You’re falling asleep sitting up.”

Hermes huffed, his wings flapping in indignation, though the motion was far slower than usual. “I don’t want to sleep,” he protested, his voice stubborn but soft. He glanced between the two of them, desperation flickering in his gaze. “I just got you both here. I don’t want to waste it by sleeping.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over the soft skin beneath his eye. “You’re not wasting anything,” they murmured, their voice low and grounding. “We’re right here. We’ll be here when you wake. I promise.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings still twitching, the feathers bristling slightly. “But–”

“Shh,” Tiresias whispered, their hand moving back to thread through his hair, fingertips brushing over the small wings there. “Just rest, sweet bird.” Their voice dropped to a whisper, steady and warm. “You need sleep. Your body is asking for it. You’ve done so much. Let yourself rest.”

Hermes' wings drooped, and he blinked heavily, his gaze flickering towards Apollo, as if searching for reassurance. Apollo leaned forward, his eyes soft. “He’s right, Hermes,” he whispered. “You don’t have to stay awake to keep us here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Hermes swallowed, his eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he forced them back open. “Promise?” His voice cracked, small and vulnerable.

Apollo reached out, his hand covering Hermes', squeezing gently. “Promise,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Hermes' shoulders sagged, and he leaned back into Tiresias’s embrace, his wings fluttering once before folding neatly against his calves. “Okay,” he murmured, voice muffled against Tiresias’s robes. “But only if you promise.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand continuing its slow, soothing motions through his hair. “I promise, little bird,” they whispered. “We’ll be right here when you wake.” He pulled Hermes into his lap, letting the fallen god curl up happily in his warm arms.

Hermes hummed softly, his eyes slipping shut fully now, wings twitching once before stilling completely. His breathing evened out, the tension melting from his frame as sleep claimed him, soft and unyielding. Tiresias adjusted their hold, cradling him closer, their hands brushing soothingly through his hair, fingers ghosting over the soft feathers with practiced tenderness.

Apollo watched them quietly, his gaze soft and reverent. “You’re good to him,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper.

Tiresias smiled, their hand still brushing through Hermes' curls. “He deserves good things,” they replied simply. “He deserves so much more than what he has been given.”

Apollo swallowed, his hands flexing on his lap. “I should have done more,” he admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “I should have been there. For him.”

Tiresias turned their head slightly, unseeing eyes turning in Apollo’s direction. “You are here now,” he murmured, voice soft and steady. “And that matters.”

Apollo looked down at his hands, fingers curling against his knees. “I remember when he was young,” he began softly. “I was always so proud of him. He could fly faster than any god, run messages with such grace. He was always full of light, even when everything around him was…dark.” He took a shaky breath. “I should have fought harder to protect that light.”

Tiresias shifted slightly, their grip still secure around Hermes. “We cannot change the past,” they said gently. “But you are here now. That light still burns. You can help protect it now.”

Apollo’s gaze lifted, and there was a fragility there, something raw and unspoken. “I want to,” he whispered, voice cracking. “More than anything.”

A gentle smile spread across Tiresias’s face. “Then you are already doing it.” Their hand continued its slow, rhythmic motion through Hermes’ curls. “He loves you. He never stopped.”

Apollo’s shoulders sagged, a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding slipping from his lips. “I thought he would hate me,” he confessed, voice thin and worn. “I thought he wouldn’t want to see me.”

Tiresias’s hand paused just briefly, then resumed. “Hermes doesn’t know how to hate those he loves,” they murmured. “He carries too much kindness in his heart.” He paused, the fire crackling softly in the silence. “It is a gift. One I hope you cherish.”

Apollo’s eyes shimmered, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I do,” he whispered. “I swear I do.”

Tiresias smiled softly, their hand moving gently through Hermes' curls. “Good,” they whispered back. “Because he deserves it.”

They fell into silence for a while, the fire crackling, Hermes breathing softly between them, curled up like something precious and fragile. The Underworld seemed to hum around them, a gentle whisper of warmth and stillness.

Apollo broke the silence first, his voice soft. “When he was young, he would sneak into my temple and try to play my lyre.” He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “He couldn’t reach the strings properly, but he’d try. And every time, he’d pluck it so hard it’d snap. He’d run off with the string, hiding it somewhere I could never find it.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hand still brushing soothingly through Hermes' hair. “I imagine he was a handful.”

“Oh, he was,” Apollo agreed, his voice full of warmth. “But I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.” His gaze softened, and he looked towards Tiresias. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Tiresias’s smile grew tender, and he nodded. “I am the lucky one, I think,” he replied. “He has given me so much more than I could ever hope to give back.”

Apollo tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “You love him,” he said, not a question, just a statement of truth.

Tiresias’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its gentle rhythm. “With everything I am,” they whispered, voice thick with emotion. “He is my heart. My wings. My light in the dark.”

Apollo smiled, something soft and genuine. “Then you and I are more alike than I thought.”

Tiresias turned their head slightly, and though their eyes could not see, Apollo felt the weight of their attention. “Perhaps,” he murmured, a hint of something warm in their tone. “Perhaps we are.”

The Underworld shifted to morning softly, threading its way through the cave, bringing a small amount of warmth to the blanket nest where Hermes lay curled up between Tiresias and Apollo. His wings fluttered gently in his sleep, brushing against the soft fabric of the blankets, a soft hum of contentment escaping his lips as he stirred.

Tiresias was the first to wake, their hand instinctively moving to brush through Hermes' curls, fingers tracing gentle patterns against his scalp. Apollo stirred beside him, blinking awake with a soft groan, his hands stretching out before he looked over to the two of them, a soft smile pulling at his lips.

“He’s always been a bit of a blanket hog,” Apollo murmured, voice hushed with sleep. Tiresias chuckled softly, their hand not ceasing its gentle motion.

“I don’t mind,” he replied, voice equally soft. “He’s welcome to as much comfort as he wants.”

Apollo’s gaze softened, and he reached out, brushing a stray curl from Hermes' forehead. “I wish I could stay,” he murmured, voice cracking just slightly. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

Tiresias’s hand stilled, their head tilting slightly. “Perhaps you don’t,” they suggested, their voice warm and thoughtful. “Not entirely.”

Apollo’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the entrance to the cave shifted, the familiar shadow of Hades stretching across the stone floor. He stepped inside, his presence steady and resolute, yet kind.

“Good morning,” Hades greeted, his voice even. His gaze swept across the room, lingering on the blanket nest where Hermes was still nestled between his brother and Tiresias. “It seems you all slept well.”

Apollo straightened, his hands falling to his sides. “I did,” he admitted. “More than I have in a long time.”

Hades nodded, stepping further inside, his presence seeming to fill the space. “I’m glad to hear it.” He paused, his gaze flickering to Apollo. “But I’m afraid I must call you back, nephew. Your duties do not wait.”

Apollo’s shoulders tensed, his hands flexing at his sides. “I understand,” he murmured, his voice steady but lined with something raw. He turned, his hand moving to brush through Hermes' hair one last time. “I won’t be gone long,” he whispered. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Hermes stirred, his eyes blinking open, bleary and unfocused. “Polly?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. His wings fluttered slightly, brushing against the blankets.

Apollo’s hand lingered, cupping his brother’s cheek. “I have to go, little brother,” he whispered, his voice gentle. “But I’ll be back. Hades said I can come whenever.” He glanced up at Hades for confirmation.

Hades inclined his head. “I keep my promises, Hermes. Your brother is welcome here. Whenever he wishes.” His gaze was steady, and his words carried weight, like a vow etched into stone.

Hermes' eyes shimmered with something fragile, but he nodded, his wings fluttering softly. “You promise?” he asked, voice trembling.

Apollo smiled, his thumb brushing over Hermes' cheek. “I promise,” he whispered. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I swear it, Hermes. I won’t abandon you.”

Hermes' wings flared just slightly, brushing against Apollo’s arm. “Okay,” he whispered, voice cracking just a little. “Okay.”

Apollo leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “I love you,” he murmured.

Hermes' eyes slipped shut, his wings fluttering with soft relief. “I love you too.”

Apollo pulled back, his gaze lingering on Hermes for just a moment longer before he straightened, turning to Hades. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice resolute.

Hades placed a hand on Apollo’s shoulder, a gesture both grounding and steadying. “Come,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “I’ll see you out.”

Apollo cast one last look back at Hermes and Tiresias, his expression soft and warm. Tiresias inclined his head in acknowledgment, and Apollo gave him a nod of respect before turning away, following Hades to the entrance.

Just before they left, Hades paused, his gaze turning back to Tiresias and Hermes. “Take care of him,” he murmured, voice low and threaded with something soft and sincere. “He needs it.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand brushing through Hermes' hair. “I know,” they whispered back. “And I will.”

Hades nodded, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before he turned, guiding Apollo back into the gloom of the Underworld.

Hermes' wings twitched, his eyes still closed, his body curled into the warmth Tiresias provided. “He’ll come back?” he whispered, voice feather-light.

Tiresias pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Yes, my love,” they assured. “He’ll come back. And we’ll be here when he does.”

Hermes sighed, his wings settling, his body relaxing. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s good.”

Tiresias held him closer, his hands threading through his curls, grounding him. “Rest, little bird,” they whispered. “You’re safe. And you are loved.”

Hermes' breathing evened out, his wings fluttering one last time before he slipped back into sleep, comforted and safe. 

Notes:

Don't worry, he's not gone for good. That's for sure.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 27

Summary:

Hide and seek!!!

The warmth of the morning still lingered in the cave, the fire crackling softly in the background. Hermes sat perched on the edge of the couch, his wings flickering with restless energy. Tiresias had been tidying up, fingers deftly moving over bundles of herbs and gently tapping his staff against the ground as he worked.

Hermes watched him with a growing grin, eyes alight with mischief. He waited until Tiresias was fully preoccupied, hands deep in a bundle of thyme, before springing to his feet. “Think you can find me twice, darling?” he teased, voice lilting with playful energy.

Tiresias tilted his head, brow arching slightly. “You want to play hide and seek again?” His voice held that familiar warmth, but there was an edge of amusement too. “Are you okay after last time?” Their voice softened.

Hermes nodded, his wings flaring slightly. “Yes, Starlight. I’ll make sure not to hide in small places like that again,” he assured, already backing towards the shadows. “Besides, you shouldn’t have found me last time. You must have cheated.” He tapped his ankle wings on the floor, the feathers brushing the stone in quick, flurried motions.

Tiresias turned towards the sound, lips curling into a knowing smile. “Cheated?” they echoed, their voice dripping with mirth. “I didn’t realize using my ears counted as cheating. What am I supposed to use then, my love, my eyes?”

“Well, no. But surely you didn’t find me just by listening.” Hermes challenged.

“Little bird, I don’t think you understand just how noisy you can be when you hide. I won’t cheat, my love, you have my word. Just don’t be surprised when I still find you.” Tiresias grinned.

“Good luck,” Hermes called, laughter threading through his voice. “This time, I’m picking a better spot. You’ll never find me.” And with that, he took off, wings flaring behind him as he darted into the winding paths of the cave.

Tiresias chuckled, shaking their head. “I’ll give you ten seconds, little bird. But I won’t need them,” he called out, tapping his staff gently against the stone, listening for the telltale echoes.

Hermes raced through the winding halls, heart fluttering with exhilaration. He knew he had to think bigger this time, higher. His eyes caught sight of an old stone ledge above, covered in the remnants of dust and age. It stretched out above one of the narrower tunnels, crumbling slightly at the edges but still sturdy enough for him to climb. His wings fluttered with excitement.

“Oh, he’ll never find me up here,” Hermes whispered to himself, grinning as he grabbed the edge of the stone and hoisted himself up. His wings flared for balance, the muscles straining with the effort, but he managed to pull himself up and tuck away, pressing his back to the rough stone. He stifled his giggles with his hand, heart racing as he heard Tiresias’s staff tapping along the cave floor.

“Three,” Tiresias called, voice smooth and confident. “Two. One. Alright, little bird. I’m coming.”

Hermes grinned, holding his breath as he watched from above. Tiresias moved with practiced ease, staff gliding along the ground, fingers brushing the stone walls. “I can hear your wings fluttering, you know,” they called out, voice warm and teasing. “I’d hide those better if I were you.”

Hermes clapped his hands over his mouth, trying to still the delighted laughter threatening to spill out. How does he do that? he thought, giddy and amazed.

Tiresias continued forward, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. His hand brushed the edges of the stone, tapping lightly. Hermes watched him pass below, holding his breath, watching the prophet’s head tilt slightly as he passed. “Hmm,” Tiresias hummed thoughtfully. “A bit too quiet.”

Hermes grinned, waiting for him to pass fully before shifting his weight to get more comfortable. His foot slipped just slightly, sending a tiny shower of dust and pebbles scattering below. He froze, wings flaring instinctively to catch his balance.

Tiresias stilled, head turning slowly towards the sound. “Well, that was rather clumsy, little bird,” they murmured, a smile teasing the corners of their mouth. “I’m guessing you’ve found somewhere…elevated?”

Hermes stifled a laugh, pressing himself harder against the stone. “You’ll never find me!” he whispered, half to himself.

Tiresias tapped his staff gently, listening to the echoes. His head tilted thoughtfully. “Higher, are you?” He took a step back, tapping again. “I can hear your wings flapping. And I can feel the breeze,” he murmured, almost like he was teasing. “You’re quite high up, aren’t you, little bird?”

Hermes stilled, heart thudding. “You’re just guessing!” he called, voice echoing slightly.

Tiresias chuckled. “Am I? Maybe I’m just clever.” They took another step, tapping again, listening to the way the echoes bounced off stone and crevice.

Hermes shuffled back, his wings brushing against the rock wall. “Not clever enough!” he retorted, laughter spilling out. He moved back just a little too far, one of the stones beneath him crumbling just slightly. He gasped, wings flaring as he tried to steady himself, but the ledge shifted with a groan of ancient stone.

“Oh no,” Hermes whispered, hands scrabbling for purchase. His wings flapped instinctively, but they couldn’t catch him. The stone crumbled beneath him, sending him tumbling.

“Hermes!” Tiresias’s voice rang out, sharp with worry. Hermes twisted in the air, wings flaring out as best as they could, but gravity pulled him relentlessly, the small clipped appendages powerless to save him. The wind whipped through his curls, the stone rushing up to meet him until–

Tiresias’s arms were around him, pulling him in, steady and solid. They staggered only slightly, shifting their balance. “I’ve got you,” Tiresias murmured, voice trembling just slightly, hands curling around Hermes' shoulders. “I’ve got you, little bird.”

Hermes was shaking, his wings still flared, eyes wide, and breath coming in sharp bursts. But then Tiresias’s hands moved, one smoothing over his curls, the other gently brushing the wings back down. “What were you doing up there?” Tiresias murmured, voice laced with affectionate exasperation. “You scared me half to death.”

Hermes let out a breathless laugh, clutching Tiresias’s robes. “I thought. I thought I could hide somewhere you wouldn’t find me.”

Tiresias chuckled, squeezing him gently. “I would always find you, Hermes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Always.”

Hermes blinked, his breath still shuddering slightly, but a grin spread across his face. “That was kind of fun, though,” he admitted, his wings giving a small, fluttery twitch.

Tiresias let out a soft laugh, brushing the dust from Hermes' hair. “I’d prefer you keep your feet on the ground for the next round,” they teased gently.

Hermes giggled, nodding as his wings gave a final, fluttering sigh. “I guess that’s fair,” he said with a grin. He stepped back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Best two out of three?”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound reverberating through the stone walls. “You’re insatiable, little bird,” they murmured. But there was a smile on their lips, and their hand slipped into Hermes'. “Alright then. But stay where I can catch you.”

Hermes only grinned wider, wings flickering with excitement. “You’ll have to be quick, Starlight!” And with that, he took off running again, the cave filling with the sound of their laughter.

The thrill of the game still buzzed in Hermes' veins, his wings fluttering excitedly as he led Tiresias back to the main chamber. Tiresias walked behind him, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “You’re feeling bold today, little bird,” he teased, tapping his staff along the stone floor, listening to the familiar echo.

Hermes just grinned, his wings flickering behind him. “Well, you didn’t catch me last time,” he sang, voice playful and light. “I fell, but you didn’t catch me.”

Tiresias let out a soft chuckle. “If I recall, I did catch you,” he corrected gently, but there was no edge to his tone, only affection.

Hermes waved his hand dismissively. “Details,” he chirped, already backing away. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’ll never catch me this time.”

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, though his gaze remained steady and unseeing. “I’m starting to think you enjoy being found,” they murmured, voice lilting with mirth.

Hermes only winked. “Try me.” And with that, he was off, wings flaring as he darted through the cave with practiced ease. Tiresias waited, tapping his staff rhythmically against the stone floor, counting softly under his breath. “Ten, nine, eight,”

Hermes slipped through the winding paths, his breath coming fast and light. He knew exactly where he was going this time, exactly how he would outsmart Tiresias. His eyes caught sight of the same stone ledge he’d attempted before, the one he’d fallen from. He paused, wings twitching with the memory of the fall, but then a grin spread across his face.

“My feet are grounded. I’m considering this the ground,” he reasoned aloud, nodding to himself. “Perfectly logical.”

With that, he climbed, his wings flaring out to help balance him as he scaled the rocky edge. This time, he was more careful, choosing his footing deliberately, testing each step before placing his weight. He finally reached the ledge, settling in with a triumphant grin. His wings tucked neatly behind him, the feathers brushing against the stone. “He’ll never find me here,” he whispered, a giggle slipping out before he could stop it.

Below, Tiresias had finished his countdown. He began to walk, his staff tapping methodically, ears pricked for the telltale flutter of wings or the soft scuff of feet. “Alright, little bird,” he called out, voice carrying through the cavern. “You can hide, but I always find you.”

Hermes pressed his hands to his mouth, stifling his giggles. Not this time, he thought, shifting slightly on his perch. He was high enough that even if Tiresias listened closely, the echoes would scatter.

Tiresias moved with practiced grace, staff tapping, hand brushing along the cave walls. “You’ve gotten better at hiding,” he mused aloud, voice carrying through the open space. “But I think I’m getting closer.”

Hermes stiffened, eyes wide. How does he always know? He scooted back, pressing himself harder against the stone, wings flickering with anticipation. He watched Tiresias’s path, noting the way the prophet’s fingers brushed the stone, their expression thoughtful.

But then, Tiresias stilled. His head tilted, unseeing eyes scanning the air as if searching for a sound. “Hmm,” they mused softly. “Did I go too far? Perhaps I missed him.” He tapped his staff once, twice, and then, silence.

Hermes stilled, his breath catching. His wings fluttered just slightly, brushing against the stone. “Tiresias?” he whispered, voice soft, barely a breath. But there was no response.

The silence stretched, long and thin, and Hermes’ wings began to flicker with anxiety. “Starlight?” he called, just a bit louder. Nothing. The quiet pressed in, heavy and suffocating.

Hermes bit his lip, his wings shifting nervously. “Okay, not funny,” he mumbled to himself, his voice wavering just slightly. He leaned forward, peering over the edge, but the winding paths below were empty. Tiresias was gone.

Hermes’ heart pounded, and he scrambled to his feet, wings flaring out for balance. “Starlight?” he called again, louder this time, voice edged with fear. “Where are you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; he leapt from the ledge, carefully sliding down the wall until he was a safe height to let go. His feet hit the stone with a soft thud, but then his left ankle wing snagged against a jagged edge of rock and curled under his foot and he landed directly on the poor thing. A sharp, searing pain shot up his leg, and Hermes bit back a cry, stumbling forward as he tried to right himself.

“Oh gods,” he whispered through gritted teeth, reaching down instinctively to touch the wing. He hissed as his fingers brushed against it, feathers bent awkwardly, and the joints flared with sharp, hot pain. “That’s not good.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shaky breath. “Okay, okay. Just. Just don’t let him know. They’ll feel terrible. It’s fine. It’s fine.”

He stood shakily, wings trembling, but he forced himself to straighten, pressing his lips together tightly. “Alright,” he whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “You can do this. Just find him.”

He limped forward, favoring his good ankle, his wings still flared slightly for balance. “Starlight?” he called, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. “I-I’m gonna find you! You can’t hide from me forever!” He forced a laugh, high and thin, but he hoped it was convincing.

The pain in his wing throbbed with each step, but he pushed through it, brushing sweat from his brow as he rounded the corner. “Starlight, come on, this isn’t fair! I thought I was supposed to be the one hiding,” he called, his voice cracking just slightly.

He reached the main cavern, his wings fluttering instinctively as he tried to listen for the telltale tapping of Tiresias’s staff. But there was only silence.

Hermes’ heart pounded, and he swallowed hard. Just keep moving, he told himself, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. He forced his steps to be even, hiding the slight limp, his wings tucked tightly against his back. Don’t let him know, he repeated, gritting his teeth. He’ll only worry. It’s fine. I’m fine.

But his eyes darted nervously around the shadows, searching for any sign of Tiresias. His heart pounded, and despite himself, he whispered, “Starlight? Where are you?”

And then, he heard it. The faintest tap of a staff, the gentle hum of a voice. Tiresias was near, but Hermes didn’t call out. He straightened, brushing his hands over his robes, forcing the tension out of his shoulders. He took another step, wincing as his wing brushed against his calf, but he kept moving forward, determined to find Tiresias before Tiresias found him.

Hermes took a breath, forcing his wings to settle neatly against his ankles, even as the injured one throbbed with each step. He practiced his smile, softening the tension in his jaw, letting his eyes flicker with playful mischief. You’re fine, he told himself. It’s just a bent wing. You’ve been through worse. You’ve broken them before. This is nothing.

He moved with careful precision, each step deliberate and steady. He knew that Tiresias would hear even the faintest falter, and he couldn’t risk it. His fingers traced along the cool stone walls, feeling the familiar grooves and cracks as he rounded another corner.

“Tiresias!” he called out, voice light and singsong. “You hiding from me, Starlight? You’re better at this than I thought!” His voice echoed back to him, and he forced out a laugh, a bit higher than usual but still convincing. “I’m starting to think I’m rubbing off on you.”

The silence stretched for a moment, heavy and lingering, before Tiresias’s voice echoed back from somewhere deeper in the cave. “You flatter me, little bird,” they called, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Hermes' heart leapt with relief. They didn’t notice.

“I’m getting closer, I can feel it!” Hermes teased, forcing his stride to remain smooth and confident. His ankle wing gave a painful flutter, and he quickly masked the wince that followed with a breathy laugh. “I’m gonna find you, and then it’s your turn again!”

Tiresias’s laugh filtered back to him, warm and genuine. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t found a perfect hiding spot.”

“Oh, I know you have,” Hermes countered, his grin widening. “But you know me. I’m relentless.” He quickened his pace just slightly, each step a measured practice in control. His wing ached, throbbed really, but he ignored it, pushing the pain to the back of his mind. Find him first, he reasoned. Worry about the wing later.

His eyes darted along the walls, his mind mapping out the familiar crevices and hiding spots Tiresias preferred. “Hmm,” he mused aloud, tapping his chin with theatrical flair. “If I were my Starlight, where would I hide? Somewhere tricky, somewhere clever.” He laughed, the sound light and playful. “I suppose I should be grateful you can’t fly. You’d be impossible to catch then.”

A soft chuckle met his ears, but no words followed. Hermes' eyes narrowed, his grin turning sharp. “Ah, close enough to hear me now, are you?” he called, his voice rising in pitch. “I’ve got you now!”

He picked up his pace, ignoring the sharp flares of pain with each step. His hand brushed against the wall for balance, and he forced himself to walk evenly, smoothly. “I’m coming for you, Starlight!” he called, the thrill of the game lacing his voice. “Nowhere to run now!”

He heard the faintest shift of movement, just a whisper of sound, but it was enough. Hermes straightened, his grin wide and triumphant. “Oh, I know where you are,” he declared, voice full of confidence. “Gotcha.”

He turned the corner sharply, wings flaring just slightly for balance, and there Tiresias stood, leaning comfortably against the wall, their hand trailing idly along the stone. They tilted their head at the sound of Hermes' footsteps, the ghost of a smile playing at their lips. “Well, well,” Tiresias mused, his voice soft and lilting. “You found me, little bird.”

Hermes placed his hands on his hips, chest heaving just slightly from the exertion of hiding his limp. “Of course I did,” he said, voice bright and triumphant. “You can’t hide from me, Starlight.”

Tiresias stepped forward, hand reaching out, and Hermes was quick to move into the touch, letting Tiresias’s fingers brush over his face, feeling the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw. “You sound breathless,” he observed, voice thoughtful.

Hermes blinked, his wings stiffening just slightly. “All that running,” he said, laughing it off. “You really kept me on my toes, Starlight.” He flashed a grin, even as the throb in his ankle wing pulsed steadily.

Tiresias smiled, their hand brushing gently through Hermes' hair. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” they murmured, voice warm. “You were quicker than usual today.”

Hermes beamed. “I’ve gotta keep you guessing,” he replied easily. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable with my tricks.”

Tiresias chuckled, hand slipping down to rest on his shoulder. “I suppose I’ll have to get even better at hiding, then.” His head tilted just slightly, the ghost of a smile still playing at his lips. “You’re walking lighter, too,” he commented absently, his hand brushing along Hermes' arm. “Barely heard you.”

Hermes swallowed hard, wings tensing instinctively. “You know me,” he said, his voice just a touch too quick. “Always light on my feet.” He forced another grin, his wings fluttering softly, betraying only the barest flicker of discomfort.

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. “Mmm,” he hummed, fingers brushing down Hermes' arm. “I suppose so.” But his hand lingered just a moment too long, fingertips brushing just slightly against the edge of Hermes' wrist.

Hermes stepped back, wings flaring out just a touch too wide. “Well, you found me,” he said, voice bright and chipper. “Or I suppose I found you? I think it’s my turn now!” He clapped his hands together, eager to divert the attention. “I’m going to make it so you’ll never find me.”

Tiresias smiled gently, his hand dropping back to his side. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll try,” they replied, their tone light and teasing. “But I always find you, little bird. Always.”

Hermes laughed, a bright, clear sound. “Not this time!” he declared, already stepping back. His ankle wing twinged, and he bit back a grimace, shifting his weight quickly to the other leg. “I’m going to hide so well, you’ll never catch me.”

Tiresias leaned back against the stone, a smile still playing at their lips. “I look forward to it,” he said smoothly. “But take your time, little bird. I’m patient.”

Hermes gave a mock salute. “I won’t make it easy for you,” he promised, turning sharply on his heel and hobbling off with as much grace as he could muster. His heart pounded in his chest, wings fluttering in frantic beats as he rounded the corner, finally out of sight.

He stopped, leaning against the stone, his breathing coming faster now that the act was gone. His hand reached down, brushing over the wing with delicate, shaking fingers. “Okay,” he whispered to himself, voice barely above a breath. “Okay, that wasn’t too bad. You’ve had worse. You’re fine.”

He straightened, shaking out his limbs, brushing off the pain with a practiced grace. “Just a little more careful,” he murmured, stretching out his shoulders. “I can do this.”

With a final breath, he straightened, brushing his hands over his robes. “Alright,” he whispered to himself, his wings flaring slightly. “Round two.”

Hermes took a deep, steadying breath, rolling his shoulders back and shaking out his wings. He felt the soft flicker of pain pulse through his ankle wing, a throbbing reminder that he should be careful. But that wasn’t his style. Caution had never been something Hermes wore comfortably, and now was certainly not the time to start. He was going to hide like he’d never hidden before.

A grin spread across his face, mischief sparking in his eyes. “Oh, Tiresias,” he called out, his voice sing-song and full of teasing mirth. “I hope you’re ready to lose.”

A soft chuckle echoed back, Tiresias’s voice gentle and warm. “We’ll see, little bird. I’m patient.”

Hermes smirked, stepping lightly on the good ankle, testing his balance. He could do this. He had to do this. If he could just find the right spot, the perfect little nook to curl up in, he’d be fine. He just had to be creative.

His gaze flitted around the cavern, eyes darting over familiar hiding spots he’d used before. Behind the stacks of herbs? Too obvious. Underneath the pile of blankets near the fire? He’d done that one twice last week. His eyes settled on the stone shelves above the herbal racks, a series of ledges cut directly into the cavern walls, stacked high with scrolls and jars of dried plants.

A devious grin split his face. Up there.

It was higher than usual, but if he could just get a good grip and climb up, he would be able to hide comfortably and tend to his wing.. He could hide among the scrolls, tucked away from sight, papers muffling any sound. It was perfect.

Hermes bounced on his good foot, testing the spring in his step. His ankle wing flared just slightly, and the throb of pain shot through his calf, sharp and insistent. He sucked in a breath, biting back a wince. Not now. Not yet. He couldn’t let Tiresias catch on.

He hobbled to the base of the stone shelves, hands reaching up to find purchase. His fingers curled around the cold, rough edges, and he tested his grip. Solid. Hermes grinned, looking back in the direction he’d come. Tiresias would be searching soon, feeling along the walls, listening for any telltale sounds of wings or shuffling feet. He had to be quick.

Hermes took a breath, then pushed off his good foot, hauling himself up with a soft grunt. His wings flared instinctively for balance, and he clenched his jaw against the sharp flare of pain that shot through his ankle. He ignored it, focusing on the stone ledges above.

Hand over hand, he pulled himself up, muscles straining just slightly. His wings twitched, instinctively trying to balance his weight, and he forced them still, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. The ache in his ankle pulsed, but he bit his lip, swallowing back the sharp noise that tried to crawl up his throat. Not yet. Almost there.

Finally, he reached the ledge, his fingers curling over the top. With a final burst of strength, he hoisted himself up, wings flaring for balance. His injured wing fluttered with the motion, sending a sharp bolt of pain through his leg, but he stifled the gasp, collapsing into the small nook and curling himself up tight.

Hermes let out a slow, shaky breath, his heart thundering in his chest. He pressed himself back against the stone, eyes squeezed shut for a moment as he gathered himself. You did it, he thought with a grin. You really did it.

He glanced down from his perch, peering over the edge of the shelf. From here, he could see the entrance to the cave, the firelight flickering over the stone walls, casting long shadows. He could also see the soft scuff of Tiresias’s footsteps approaching, steady and patient, his hand trailing along the wall with delicate precision.

Hermes bit back a laugh, pressing a hand over his mouth. He’s never going to find me, he thought, glee sparking in his chest. The pain in his wing still throbbed, a slow, dull ache now, but he ignored it, too consumed by his victory.

Tiresias’s footsteps paused, and Hermes watched as his head tilted just slightly, listening. He didn’t move, his breath catching, wings tucked tightly against his ankles to keep from brushing the stone. He stayed perfectly still, a grin spreading across his face. I’m invisible. I’m a ghost. I’m–

“I wonder,” Tiresias murmured aloud, voice soft and thoughtful. “Where would a trickster god hide?”

Hermes bit his lip, his heart pounding with excitement. He’s right there, he thought, his wings giving the tiniest flutter of anticipation. Tiresias’s fingers brushed along the stone shelves below him, gentle and seeking. Hermes froze, his breath hitching.

The prophet continued to feel along the shelves, brow furrowing slightly. “Hermes,” he called out, his voice calm and almost melodic. “Are you quite certain you’re hidden well?”

Hermes grinned wider, whispering softly under his breath, “You have no idea.”

Tiresias paused, head tilting slightly. “Mmm,” he hummed, his fingers tracing over the edge of a shelf. “You’re awfully quiet.” He leaned back, his fingers still brushing the edge. “Not like you.”

Hermes held his breath, curling tighter, wings tucked as close as he could manage. He couldn’t risk a laugh now, not when he’d gotten this far. I’m invisible, he repeated to himself, I'm–

“Did you climb up high again?” Tiresias asked suddenly, his tone teasing. “You’re awfully fond of that trick.”

Hermes' eyes widened, his grin slipping for just a moment. He couldn’t know. But the prophet only smiled, his hand still idly tracing the stone. “I suppose I’ll have to wait you out, then,” he said, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “I’m very patient, little bird. Very patient.”

Hermes huffed a silent laugh, pressing his hands to his mouth. We’ll see, he thought, his wings fluttering just slightly, sending a fresh jolt of pain up his leg. He clenched his jaw, ignoring it. I’ll outlast you.

Tiresias tilted his head, the faintest smile on his lips. “Oh, I know you’re listening, Hermes,” he called out, his voice full of mirth. “And I know you’re grinning like a fool right now.”

Hermes bit back another laugh, shaking his head. How does he always know?

Tiresias chuckled, leaning his head back against the stone. “I can wait,” he said simply, his tone gentle and certain. “And when you come down, I’ll be right here.”

Hermes settled back against the ledge, his grin widening. He could wait, too. Even with the soft, pulsing throb in his ankle wing, even with the ache in his calves from the climb, he would win this round. He was certain of it.

And so, the game began.

It became more and more difficult the longer Hermes sat. Between the natural urge to move and flutter and the sharp pain searing through his wing, he longed to flex and flare. To move. To do something. But he was determined to win.

Tiresias leaned back against the cool stone wall, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted ever so slightly as he listened for the tiniest sound. Hermes had gone perfectly silent, so much so that Tiresias’s brow lifted in mild surprise. He knew the little bird could be mischievous, but patient? That was new.

“Well,” Tiresias began, his tone light and conversational, “I suppose if you’re going to be this stubborn, I might just have to amuse myself.” Their fingers tapped idly against the stone wall beside them. “The fire is low. I could add some more wood. Or maybe I’ll tidy up a bit. Perhaps,” Tiresias paused, his head turning toward the fire where their nest of blankets lay, carefully arranged just the way Hermes liked it. “I should straighten up our little nest. It’s been feeling rather messy.”

Hermes stiffened from his perch, eyes widening. Oh no, you wouldn’t. The messenger thought, eyes narrowing.

Tiresias’s hand drifted out, fingers trailing along the soft folds of the blankets. “I think I’ll start with these cushions,” he murmured, voice soft and measured. His hands grazed the tops of the blankets, brushing away nonexistent dust. “I could fluff them up a bit, smooth them out. Make it a bit more presentable.”

Hermes bit his lip, wings fluttering nervously. He watched from his high vantage point, breath caught in his chest. Tiresias’s fingers traced delicately over the edges of the pillows, fingertips brushing the seam where Hermes always tucked himself. Hermes leaned forward slightly, grip tightening on the stone ledge. They wouldn’t.

Tiresias hummed softly, hands beginning to lift the edges of the blankets. “Yes, I think I’ll move this one over here.” He shifted the pillow, just slightly. Hermes flinched, his wings flaring instinctively. No, no, no, don’t mess with that one!

“And this one,” Tiresias continued, his fingers delicately tracing the pattern, the soft indentation where Hermes usually rested his head. “I think it could use a little fluffing.” They reached down, hands moving to adjust the cushion.

Hermes shifted on the ledge, eyes darting nervously. His wings fluttered again, sending a sharp stab of pain through his ankle. He hissed softly, biting back the noise, but the worry still thumped in his chest. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He knows how I like it!

Tiresias straightened, his hands lingering over the blankets. “Oh, and maybe I’ll move that soft green one to the other side,” he mused aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I’m sure it would look lovely over by the fire. Or perhaps I’ll just rearrange the whole thing. Make it feel new. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” A grin rested on their face. They knew exactly what they were doing.

Hermes' breath caught in his throat. Rearrange the whole thing?! His wings flared wide, flapping with irritation. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward instinctively, nearly toppling off the ledge. He wouldn’t dare!

Tiresias tilted his head, listening to the faint flutter of wings. “Hmm,” he hummed, his hand dropping to the blanket pile. He grabbed the edge of the green cushion, fingertips curling around the fabric. “I think I’ll just–”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Hermes' voice rang out, shrill and desperate. Without thinking, he launched himself from the ledge, wings flaring wide to catch himself. But the moment he landed, the pain in his ankle wing flared viciously, sharp and unyielding. He stumbled, nearly crashing forward, his hands bracing against the ground with a heavy thud.

He hissed through his teeth, biting back a cry of pain. His wings flapped wildly for balance, the injured one twitching helplessly. “Ow, ow, ow…” he muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment.

Tiresias straightened from his position by the blanket nest, a small, knowing smile tugging at their lips. “Well, well,” they murmured, turning toward the sound of Hermes' voice. “It seems I’ve found you.”

Hermes huffed, sitting back on his good leg, his injured wing trembling slightly. “That was cheating,” he grumbled, eyes narrowed even as he clutched his ankle just a bit too protectively.

Tiresias raised a brow. “Cheating?” he repeated, his voice full of amusement. “I seem to recall you making the rules, little bird.”

Hermes glared, though the effect was softened by the flush on his cheeks. “I didn’t think you’d mess with the nest,” he said, pouting slightly. “You know how I like it.”

Tiresias chuckled, taking a few careful steps forward. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” they replied smoothly. His hand reached out, fingers gently brushing Hermes' shoulder. “But you were awfully quiet up there. You had me worried for a moment.”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a soft flutter, though the injured one shivered with the motion. “Worried? About me? Whatever for, I’m fine,” he quipped, voice just a bit too bright. He quickly tucked the ankle with the bruised wing behind the other leg, hiding the tremor shaking the wing. “I just lost my balance a bit. No big deal.”

Tiresias raised a brow, his head tilting slightly. “You’re sure?” they asked gently, their hand moving to rest on Hermes' shoulder, grounding him. “That was quite the jump.”

Hermes laughed, a bit too loudly. “Ha! Of course! I’m Hermes. I can handle a jump.” He straightened his posture, wings folding neatly, if a little stiffly, against his legs. “See? Perfectly fine.”

Tiresias’s fingers lingered, gentle and steady. “If you say so, little bird,” they murmured, their voice soft. But there was a hint of concern, just the faintest flicker of doubt that made Hermes' chest tighten.

Hermes flashed a grin, his wings flaring just slightly. “Now, about that blanket nest,” he said, voice full of mischief. “I better not see it rearranged, or I might have to retaliate.”

Tiresias chuckled, pulling back just slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” they replied smoothly, though there was a playful edge to their voice. “At least, not today.”

Hermes grinned wider, hiding the slight wince as he shifted his weight back onto his good leg. “You better not,” he teased. “Or next time, I’m climbing even higher.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Tiresias asked, their tone soft and indulgent.

Hermes just winked, taking a step forward and flinching slightly as the motion sent a soft jolt through his ankle. But he covered it with a laugh, light and bright, wings fluttering with pride. “Of course,” he chirped. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Tiresias chuckled, brushing their hand over Hermes' shoulder once more. “I look forward to it,” they murmured, their voice dripping with affection.

Hermes beamed, doing his best to ignore the throbbing pain pulsing through his ankle wing. He wouldn’t let a little bump slow him down. Not when the game had only just begun.

Tiresias raised a brow, the slight smirk on his lips lingering as he moved back toward the nest, his hand brushing lightly against the carefully arranged pillows. “I suppose,” he began, his tone casual, “since you’ve emerged from your hidey-hole, I can leave the nest as it is.”

Hermes huffed, wings fluttering indignantly. “You suppose?” he scoffed, planting his hands on his hips. “You were about to ruin the whole thing! I saved it from disaster!”

Tiresias chuckled softly, his hand lingering on the edge of the blankets, smoothing out a wrinkle with practiced ease. “Disaster? I was just fluffing the pillows.”

“That’s where it starts!” Hermes replied, his wings flaring dramatically. He took a step forward, forgetting the twinge of pain in his ankle for just a moment, determination sparkling in his eyes. “First, it’s fluffing pillows, and next thing I know, you’re moving blankets around! I’ve seen it before.” He wagged a finger at Tiresias, voice dropping conspiratorially. “You’re a menace to blanket forts, Starlight.”

Tiresias tilted his head, lips twitching with amusement. “A menace, am I?”

“Absolutely.” Hermes straightened, his wings giving a punctuating flap, though his left ankle wing trembled slightly with the motion. He swallowed the flash of pain, brushing it aside. “And I think it’s time you face justice for your crimes against nests.”

Tiresias chuckled, a deep, warm sound. “And what, pray tell, does justice look like, my little bird?”

Hermes grinned, stepping back slowly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, his wings giving a quick flicker. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “But first, you’ll have to catch me.”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Tiresias straightened, their grip tightening on their staff, head tilted ever so slightly. “Is that a challenge?” they asked, voice dropping to a playful lilt.

Hermes' grin grew wider. “I suppose it is,” he replied, mimicking Tiresias’s earlier tone. He took another step back, wings flaring out just slightly for balance. “You did want me to play fair, didn’t you?”

Tiresias chuckled, taking a step forward. “I did indeed. And I accept.” There was no hesitation, just pure confidence threading through his voice.

Notes:

Okay. I know I know. I completely forgot to post this chapter last week. I'm gonna post another chapter today to make up for it. My bad! Enjoy this one until the next comes out in a few hours!

And as always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 28

Summary:

Hermes shows Tiresias something :)

Hermes barely had time to blink before he turned on his heel, wings flaring wide as he took off with a laugh. He ignored the sharp twinge in his ankle, pushing through it with sheer determination. He wasn’t about to lose. Not this time.

He ducked around the edge of the room, slipping behind the woven curtains that separated the nest from the entranceway. He glanced back, catching the faintest smile on Tiresias’s lips as he followed, each step steady and unhurried, their staff tapping rhythmically against the stone. It was a calculated pace, one that let Hermes get just far enough to think he was gaining ground.

“Oh, you’re too slow!” Hermes called back, voice dripping with playful arrogance. “I thought the great prophet of Thebes would be quicker than that!”

Tiresias’s chuckle echoed down the hall. “I’m just giving you a head start,” they replied smoothly. “Wouldn’t be fair otherwise, would it?”

Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing the sides of the walls as he slipped through a narrow gap in the stone. He winced as the bruised wing flared with pain, but he grit his teeth and kept moving. He was too stubborn to stop now. He ducked around the bend, pressing his back against the wall, wings flaring just slightly as he steadied his breath.

The footsteps grew closer, measured and steady. “I wonder where my little bird has flown off to,” Tiresias mused aloud, their voice carrying a teasing edge. “Such a quick one, but not nearly as quiet as he thinks.”

Hermes held his breath, a grin splitting his face. He could feel the pulse of excitement thrumming through him, the thrill of the chase. It was almost enough to dull the ache in his ankle. Almost.

But then he heard it, a soft chuckle. Hermes' brow furrowed. Why is he laughing? The footsteps paused just outside his hiding spot, and Hermes bit back a curse. How did they–

“Now,” Tiresias began, his voice slipping into a tone far too casual for comfort, “I wonder if Hermes would be terribly upset if I happened to, oh, I don’t know, fluff the blankets just a bit. Move a pillow here or there. Or maybe, switch which side is up?”

Hermes' wings flared. He wouldn’t.

“You wouldn’t dare, prophet!” Hermes called. The footsteps froze. Further along down the tunnel, Tiresias grinned in the direction of that voice. Of course, they wouldn’t mess with the nest, it was far too important to Hermes. He knew how comfortable and cozy it was for the messenger. Hermes called it perfect. The two had taken to sleeping in the soft cocoon of blankets more often than in their bed. But that didn’t mean Tiresias was above threatening to mess with it.

“Oh, and that little green pillow,” Tiresias continued, his footsteps receding, heading back towards the nest, knowing Hermes would follow. “It always seems a bit out of place. I think it would look better on the opposite end. Don’t you?”

Hermes' breath hitched. No, no, not the green one. That was his favorite. He bit his lip, eyes darting back towards the way he came. Stay hidden, Hermes. Stay hidden. It’s a trick. But then Tiresias’s voice floated back down the hallway.

“Now, I wonder if Hermes would mind terribly if I,” There was a soft shuffle of fabric. “Oh dear, I seem to be rearranging things. Oops.”

“Hey! Hey, wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Hermes burst from his hiding spot, wings flaring wide as he dashed back down the hallway, his voice echoing off the stone walls. He ignored the spike of pain in his ankle, barreling forward with single-minded determination. “Starlight! Don’t you dare!”

Tiresias paused, hand hovering just over the edge of the green pillow, a smile playing on their lips. “Ah,” they murmured, tilting their head towards the sound of Hermes' footsteps. “And here I thought you’d hidden so well.”

Hermes stumbled slightly as he rounded the corner, wings flaring to catch his balance. He winced, but covered it quickly, plastering on a grin. “You wouldn’t,” he said, voice breathless but defiant. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Tiresias’s hand hovered over the pillow, fingers drumming softly. “I might,” they replied, voice dripping with mischief. “If I were feeling particularly bold.”

Hermes' wings flared dramatically, and he moved closer, each step careful and precise. “Step away from the green pillow,” he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger. “Or suffer the consequences.”

Tiresias chuckled, hand pulling back from the cushion, but the smile never left their face. “Consider me warned,” they murmured, voice warm with amusement.

Hermes stepped forward, wings fluttering with relief as he patted the cushion protectively. “This is sacred,” he whispered dramatically, as if confiding the world’s greatest secret. “You can’t just move it.”

Tiresias smiled, stepping back. “I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind,” they replied softly.

Hermes gave the pillow one last gentle pat before straightening, his wings folding neatly against his calves. He shot Tiresias a grin, triumphant and gleaming. “I win,” he declared.

Tiresias tilted their head, an unreadable expression flickering across their face. “I wouldn’t be so sure, little bird,” he murmured, their tone low and soft.

Hermes blinked, confused, just as Tiresias’s hand shot out, fingers brushing along his side. “Now I think it’s time I get my revenge,” they teased, wiggling their fingers just above Hermes' ribs.

Hermes' eyes went wide, wings flaring dramatically. “Wait! No! No, you wouldn’t!” He pulled himself from the prophet’s grasp, backing away quickly.

“Oh, I absolutely would.”

And with that, Tiresias lunged, and the chase was on once again.

“Gods, I knew I should have never let Apollo tell you I was ticklish!” Hermes shouted, racing away.

The chase began in earnest. Hermes, wings flaring out behind him, darted down the narrow pathways of the cave with Tiresias close behind, their staff tapping steadily against the stone floor. The sound echoed, a metronome to Hermes' erratic footsteps. His laughter spilled out, wild and untamed, filling the caverns with a kind of joy that hadn’t been heard there in ages.

Though Tiresias was blind, he didn’t worry about the tunnels. They’d wandered through them enough times that the prophet had them all memorized. 

“You’ll never catch me!” Hermes called over his shoulder, voice ringing with pure glee. His wings flickered with excitement, brushing the walls as he weaved through the twists and turns. His ankle throbbed with each step, but he ignored it, pushing forward with sheer stubbornness. This was too much fun to stop now.

Tiresias followed, unhurried but precise, their staff tapping a steady rhythm. “Oh, I’m afraid you underestimate me, little bird,” they called back, voice smooth and steady. There was a hint of a grin in their tone, that mischievous side Hermes had come to adore.

Hermes ducked around a corner, his wings fluttering wildly as he squeezed through a narrow gap. He winced as his ankle twisted slightly, but he bit back the sound, pushing through with a forced grin. Just a little longer, he told himself. I can do this.

But Tiresias was catching on. They had not missed the stutter in Hermes' steps, the slight stagger when he pushed off his left foot. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Tiresias knew Hermes too well to let it pass unnoticed. Their brow furrowed, head tilting slightly as they listened more carefully to the footsteps ahead. Uneven. Unbalanced. Favoring one side.

“Hermes!” Tiresias called, voice laced with mirth. “I think you’ve gotten slower since the last time we played this game.”

Hermes scoffed, wings flicking with indignation as he peered back around the bend. “Slower? Me?” He huffed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “I’m merely being merciful! I can’t always let you lose, Starlight.” His voice was steady, but Tiresias heard the faint hitch when Hermes shifted his weight.

“Is that so?” Tiresias mused, slowing their steps just slightly. “I appreciate the mercy, but I think I’d rather catch you.”

Hermes' wings flared, and he laughed, the sound bright and musical. “You’ll have to try harder than that!” he called back, and with a flicker of feathers, he darted around another corner. His steps faltered just slightly on the uneven ground, and Tiresias’s head tilted. There it is again.

They followed, their pace deliberate and measured, staff tapping with perfect rhythm. Tiresias didn’t need speed; they needed precision. And precision was exactly what they had. Hermes' footsteps were lighter now, more staggered. He was favoring his right side. Tiresias’s brow furrowed, concern threading through his thoughts.

“Hermes!” He called again, voice still playful but carrying a hint of curiosity and worry. “Are you growing tired already? I’m almost catching up.”

Hermes barked out a laugh, though it was slightly breathless. “Not a chance!” he called back, wings flaring wide as he squeezed through another gap. He stumbled just slightly, his left ankle flaring with pain, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Not yet. Not yet. I can do this.

But Tiresias was catching up. The prophet was quicker than Hermes gave them credit for. Their staff barely whispered against the stone, steps calculated and smooth. “I’m right behind you, little bird,” Tiresias teased, voice growing closer.

Hermes giggled, a bit of desperation edging his laugh. “You’re too slow, Starlight!” he shouted, trying to pick up his pace. He almost stumbled, but his wings flared just enough to catch him. He sucked in a breath, pain shooting up his leg. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just a little longer.

But Tiresias was too perceptive. His brow furrowed again, catching the quickened breaths, the staggered steps. They lengthened their stride, picking up their pace ever so slightly. “I don’t know, little bird,” he called back, voice steady. “You sound a little winded. Perhaps I’m not as slow as you think.”

Hermes forced another laugh, though it was thinner now, pain laced through him with every movement. “I’m just giving you a chance!” he shouted back, wings flickering. But Tiresias heard it. The crack in his voice. The stumble in his footsteps.

“Are you, now?” Tiresias asked, tone light but probing. His steps quickened. “I appreciate the generosity, Hermes. But I think it’s about time I end this.”

Hermes' eyes went wide, and he scrambled forward, his ankle screaming in protest. Not yet. Just a little longer. He ducked around another bend, wings flaring to catch his balance. But Tiresias was right there, only a few steps behind.

“Hermes,” Tiresias called, their voice softer now, more focused. “What’s wrong?”

Hermes froze for the briefest of moments, his wings flickering in surprise. “N-Nothing!” he called back, forcing cheer into his voice. “You’re just slow!”

Tiresias didn’t slow. Their footsteps grew closer, more deliberate. “You’re limping,” he stated, voice gentle but firm.

Hermes' breath hitched. He stumbled forward, wings flaring to keep his balance. “Am not!” he shouted, but it lacked conviction. “I’m just. Just–”

“Limping,” Tiresias repeated, voice soft and certain. “And I’m catching up.”

Panic flared in Hermes' chest, and he scrambled around another corner, almost tripping on the uneven stone. His ankle throbbed, and he bit back a cry, shoving forward with all the stubbornness he had. So close. Almost. Just a moment longer.

But Tiresias was right there, their hand reaching out, brushing the air just behind Hermes' shoulder. “Little bird,” they whispered, voice dropping to a tender hush. “Stop running.”

Hermes stumbled, nearly falling as his wings flared for balance. He bit his lip, forcing a grin over his shoulder. “You, you almost had me!” he said, voice cracking just slightly. But this time, when he stepped forward, putting weight on his bad leg, his ankle shuddered, and he collapsed, pain catching up to him.

He tried to pull himself up, to scramble away from Tiresias, who now stood in front of him, but Tiresias stepped forward, hand landing on Hermes’ shoulder, stopping his movements. “Hermes,” they said gently, their touch warm and steady. “Let me see.”

Hermes' wings flared, pushing Tiresias’s hand away. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, voice a touch too high. “I just twisted it a bit. I’m fine.” He tried to step back, but Tiresias’s hand found his arm, holding him.

Tiresias knelt down slowly, their hand moving to Hermes' ankle with practiced care. Hermes flinched, wings flaring defensively, trying to hide his ankle, but Tiresias’s grip was gentle and firm. “Little bird,” he whispered, voice impossibly soft. “Let me see.”

Hermes hesitated, wings shivering. He glanced up at Tiresias, their expression gentle and unwavering, and finally, he relented. “Fine,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Tiresias’s hand moved gently, fingertips brushing along the curve of his ankle. Hermes sucked in a breath, biting back a wince. “Hermes,” Tiresias whispered, voice steady and calm. “How long?”

“Not long, just a few moments ago,” he tried. Tiresias’s gaze was still, unmoving.

“Don’t lie to me about your pain, Hermes. How long have you been hurting?” He asked.

Hermes swallowed hard. “Since I jumped down when you went quiet,” he admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “I-I didn’t want to stop playing.”

Tiresias’s brow furrowed, their hands impossibly gentle. “You silly bird,” they murmured, voice heavy with affection and concern. “You should have told me.”

Hermes looked away, wings fluttering with embarrassment. “I didn’t want to ruin the fun.”

Tiresias’s hands stilled for a moment, then brushed tenderly along Hermes' hair. “You never ruin anything, little bird,” they whispered, voice full of love and gentle reproach. “But I’m afraid you’ve been caught.”

Hermes let out a soft laugh, despite himself. “I suppose I have.”

Tiresias’s grip was gentle but unyielding as they helped Hermes back towards the blanket nest. Their hand remained firm around Hermes' arm, guiding him with soft, murmured reassurances. Hermes limped slightly, wings shivering with each step, but he didn’t protest. He let Tiresias lead him, his eyes fixed firmly on the path ahead, avoiding Tiresias’s face.

When they reached the nest, Tiresias guided Hermes down with careful hands, settling him among the blankets with a tenderness that made Hermes’ heart ache. Hermes winced as he tried to tuck his legs beneath him, his wings flaring slightly before curling back, the injured one trembling just a bit.

“Easy now,” Tiresias murmured, kneeling beside him. His hands were warm and steady as they reached for Hermes' ankle, fingertips brushing along the delicate feathers with the utmost care. Hermes flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. His wings twitched, the one on his ankle flaring painfully, and Tiresias’s brow furrowed.

“Let me have a look,” Tiresias said softly, voice low and gentle. His hands moved with practiced precision, fingers ghosting over the feathers, searching for the source of Hermes' discomfort. Hermes bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t flinch away.

It didn’t take long for Tiresias to find the damage.

“Oh, oh, Hermes,” Tiresias whispered, voice thick with concern. His fingers brushed over the wing, tracing the bend that was not meant to be there, the way the feathers fanned out unevenly, a few of them bent and cracked. His fingers moved lower, feeling the swelling at the joint, the heat that radiated off the delicate structure. Tiresias’s brow creased, their hands impossibly gentle. “You said this happened when I tricked you into finding me? You decided to run and climb with such pain.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the blankets. “It…it hurt, but I just. I didn’t want to ruin the game,” he admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper. His wings fluttered weakly, brushing against the nest.

Tiresias inhaled deeply, his hands stilling for a moment before continuing their careful examination. “You stubborn bird,” they murmured, their voice thick with affection and exasperation. “You should have told me.”

Hermes bit his lip, his wings curling inward slightly, protective and uncertain. “I didn’t want to stop,” he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly. “It was too much fun.”

Tiresias’s hands softened, the tension easing from their shoulders. “I know, sweet bird,” they whispered. “But you won’t be able to run and flee so freely if this had gotten worse.” His hand brushed tenderly over the soft feathers, smoothing out the bends as best they could, fingertips tracing gentle circles around the swollen joint.

Hermes winced, his hands fisting in the blankets. “Ow. Ow! Careful!” He winced, voice shaking.

Tiresias’s hands immediately stilled, their touch impossibly light. “I’m sorry, love,” they whispered, voice trembling with concern. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be gentle.” He took a breath, steadying themself before continuing. “But I need to see how bad it is, alright? I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Hermes nodded, wings shivering. “Okay,” he whispered. His hands stayed tangled in the blankets, knuckles white as Tiresias’s fingers resumed their careful exploration. Evey whimper drawn from Hermes struck like a dagger through Tiresias, knowing he was the cause of that pain. “I’m sorry, my love, just a little more. You’re doing so good, so brave. My good bird. My dearest heart.” He whispered, hoping to comfort the god as he worked.

Tiresias’s brow furrowed as they traced the injury, fingertips ghosting over the tender membrane, the swollen joint. It was worse than they had hoped. The wing was bruised, the joint swollen and angry, feathers bent in awkward directions. He could feel the faint tremor that shivered through the delicate frame whenever their hands brushed too close.

“Oh, sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, their voice laced with heartbreak. “You’ve really hurt yourself this time.”

Hermes huffed out a breath, trying to muster up a smile. “It’s nothing,” he whispered, though his wings flickered weakly. “I’m fine. I just need to rest it.”

Tiresias’s hands didn’t still, fingers continuing their soft, rhythmic exploration. “You need more than rest,” he whispered, voice low and firm. “This…Hermes, you could’ve done some serious damage.” Their thumb brushed gently over the joint, and Hermes flinched, wings flaring.

“Ah!” He cried out, trying to pull his ankle away from the pain. Tiresias’s grip was unyielding. “Starlight, it’s fine,” Hermes protested, though his voice cracked. “It’s just sore.”

Tiresias didn’t pull away. “Hermes,” they murmured, voice soft. “This is not just sore. You’ve strained it far too much. You might have even cracked part of the bone.”

Hermes' eyes flickered up, wide and shimmering. “I,” he hesitated, wings shivering. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to keep playing.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, his hands gentle as he brushed through Hermes' hair, fingers tracing slow, soothing lines. “I know, sweet bird,” he whispered. “I know you did. But you need to let me help you now.” Their hand moved back to his ankle, fingers moving with gentle precision. “I’m going to wrap it, alright? It’ll help with the swelling. I need you to sit still.”

Hermes nodded slowly, his wings fluttering. “Okay,” he agreed. “Okay.”

Tiresias moved with care, reaching for the soft linens they kept neatly folded near the nest. They worked silently, their touch impossibly tender, wrapping Hermes' ankle with practiced grace, their fingers moving with the kind of care that came only with deep affection. Hermes watched them work, eyes wide and unblinking, wings flaring occasionally with small jolts of pain. But Tiresias’s hands never faltered. Their grip was steady, their expression focused and calm.

When Tiresias moved to wrap the wing, to straighten the bend, Hermes tensed immediately. “Please,” he whispered, so quietly that he didn’t even know he said anything. But Tiresias heard. 

“Please, what, my love?” He asked, his voice so soft. Hermes froze, then shook his head.

“It’s nothing.” The request was quite stupid.

“It’s not nothing, Hermes.” The messenger hesitated.

“Do you have to wrap the wing?” He asked, voice impossibly soft. Tiresias’s heart broke.

“Yes, my love. I know it will feel strange, trapped in a sense, but I want your wing to heal, little bird. If I don’t wrap it, it could be crooked forever.” The body beneath their hands remained tense, and Tiresias then understood Hermes’ real worry. “You are safe here, Hermes. This is not meant to trap you, to keep you from freedom. It is meant to heal. You are safe with me, my love.” Hermes relaxed, a breath escaping them.

“It’s not,” he stammered, “not going to hurt me?” Tiresias pressed a gentle kiss to the wing.

“No, my love. I only want you to heal.” 

“Okay.” Hermes breathed.

“Thank you, my brave little bird,” they murmured, voice soft and warm as they finished tying the wrap securely. 

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings fluttering. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. 

Tiresias reached up, their hand brushing over Hermes' cheek, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles. “Of course,” they murmured. “You’re mine to care for. And I always will.”

Hermes' breath shuddered. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice small. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Tiresias’s hands moved to cup his face, fingers brushing through his hair. “You’re worth worrying over,” he whispered, voice trembling with affection. “And you always will be.”

Hermes leaned forward, his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder, wings fluttering softly against the prophet. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice muffled. “For taking care of me.”

Tiresias’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, holding him steady. “Always, little bird,” they whispered, voice a gentle hum in the quiet of the cave. “Always.”

~~~~

The fire crackled softly in the corner of the cave, casting warm light over the stone walls. Hermes sat, nestled comfortably among the blankets, his ankle propped up with careful cushions. Tiresias had made it very clear that there would be no running or hiding for at least a few days, much to Hermes' dramatic sighs and insistences that he was fine. But Tiresias would not budge, and Hermes, after much protesting, finally relented.

“You need to stay off it,” Tiresias had insisted, his voice firm. “If I have to tie you down to that nest to keep you there, I will.”

Hermes had flopped back into the blankets with a theatrical sigh, head wings flaring out in a grand display. “I suppose I’ll just waste away then,” he groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. “Trapped forever in a mountain of blankets, unable to hide or move or dance…” He peeked out from under his arm, a grin spreading across his face. “I hope you’re happy.”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “If it keeps you from injuring yourself further, then yes, I’m quite content.”

Hermes blew out a dramatic breath, stretching his wings just slightly before tucking them back in. Silence settled for a moment, the crackling of the fire filling the space with a kind of comforting rhythm. Hermes chewed his lip, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of a blanket. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Starlight?”

Tiresias tilted their head in his direction. “Yes, little bird?”

Hermes fiddled with the edge of the blanket, his wings giving the slightest flicker. “You said I had to stay off my feet,” he began, voice edging with that familiar hint of mischief. “But, well, that doesn’t mean I can’t do things with my hands, right?”

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “That depends,” they replied smoothly. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Hermes hesitated, fingers brushing absently over the worn edges of the blankets. “Well, I was hoping to finish that project I’ve been working on. Your surprise. You said you’d sit with me and keep me from going overboard, remember? I don’t have much left to do, just a few small things here and there. I’d be sitting the whole time, I swear,” he said, voice edging just slightly towards pleading. “Just working with my hands. Nothing strenuous.”

Tiresias hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the cushions. “You mean that mysterious project you hide from me?” His voice was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity threaded through it. “The one that kept you up night after night?”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering with excitement. “That’s the one!” He leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming. “I promise I won’t move around. I’ll stay right here.” He patted the blanket nest for emphasis.

Tiresias considered for a moment, their expression unreadable. Then, with a small smile, they inclined their head. “Very well. But,” he added, his voice turning firm, “if I so much as hear you try to hobble across this cave, I’ll take it away.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Tiresias replied smoothly. “But I trust you’ll be good.”

Hermes grinned wide, nodding eagerly. “I’ll be good. I promise.” Then he realized something. “Umm, Starlight?” Tiresias turned their head back to face him.

“Yes, sweet bird?”

Hermes chuckled softly. “Can I get up and grab it? I’ll be super fast. I’ll hardly step on my bad foot, I promise.” Tiresias frowned.

“No,” Hermes’ face fell, “but if you tell me where it is, I can grab it.” Tiresias offered instead. Hermes beamed.

“Thank you, Starlight. I just need the small chest under the blankets by the heart. I can’t quite reach it.” He said. Tiresias nodded and stood, knowing the chest Hermes was talking about.

“I was wondering why the blankets had moved atop this chest. You really are hiding this from me.” They murmured. Hermes huffed.

“It's called a surprise for a reason, Starlight. Now, no peeking.” The fallen god commands, pulling out the tapestry and thread.

“I assure you, darling, I can’t see a thing.” Tiresias laughed.

And with that, Hermes settled in, hands moving with careful, practiced grace, each stitch weaving purposefully into the tapestry. The fire crackled on, warmth curling through the cave as Hermes worked, his wings twitching occasionally with contentment. And for a little while, the world outside their cave seemed to melt away, leaving only the sound of thread passing through cloth, the crackle of fire, and the steady hum of Tiresias’s quiet breathing.

Hermes sat nestled within the blankets, his hands working diligently on the tapestry stretched out before him. His fingers moved with a practiced grace, the needle weaving in and out with rhythmic precision. He was utterly absorbed, wings fluttering occasionally with satisfaction as each stitch brought the image closer to completion.

Tiresias sat a few feet away, his hands resting on his staff, the tip of it pressed against the stone floor, peering into time. His eyes were closed, expression serene, but there was a tension in the lines of his shoulders. He had been like that for some time now, still and focused, his breath coming slow and measured. Hermes didn’t interrupt; he knew better than that. When Tiresias saw something, it was best to let him finish.

After a few moments, Tiresias’s eyes fluttered open, the tension leaving his shoulders with a shuddering breath. They leaned back, fingers brushing lightly over the top of his staff as if grounding themself. Hermes looked up, eyes bright with curiosity. “Did you see anything interesting, Starlight?”

Tiresias tilted his head towards Hermes’ voice, a small smile playing on his lips. “A visitor,” he replied, voice soft and steady. “In just a few days.”

Hermes' wings flared slightly with surprise. “A visitor?” he repeated. “Who?”

Tiresias smiled, hand brushing gently over the staff. “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?” he replied, the teasing note in his voice unmistakable. Hermes rolled his eyes, but his grin betrayed his amusement.

“But I wanna know. I won’t even get to say hi when they’re here.” He complained. Tiresias laughed.

“Such a curious mind you have, Hermes. But you’ll have to wait and see, little bird.” Tiresias knew Hermes would want to know everything, but there was a surprise in this vision. Tiresias was unable to see the futures of divine beings and rarely saw them as simply part of someone’s future unless the deity was incredibly important to that moment. He could see Odysseus fighting Poseidon, but only saw a glimmer of wings when Odysseus left Calypso’s island. Today, they saw a glimpse of light leading those same wings away from their cave when the visitor arrived. They only assumed it was Apollo.

Hermes huffed dramatically, wings flapping once in protest. “You’re always so cryptic,” he accused, though his voice held nothing but fondness. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Tiresias only chuckled. “I look forward to your attempts,” he replied smoothly before falling silent. Hermes glanced over and saw Tiresias had fallen still again, eyes glowing softly as they once again peered into time.

Hermes grinned, his fingers returning to the tapestry with renewed vigor. “I should have this finished by the time you’re done.” He ducked his head back down, fingers moving steadily. The image was nearly complete now, the final threads pulling together in perfect unison. He could feel the anticipation building in his chest, excitement thrumming through him.

Hours passed, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic whisper of thread against cloth. Hermes remained tucked away in the blankets, his fingers never pausing. He was determined to finish.

At some point, Tiresias rose, returning from viewing the future of his future visitor. Hermes remained unaware of the footsteps drawing closer, too wrapped up in his work. Tiresias knelt beside Hermes, gently placing his hand on top of the messenger’s head, careful not to startle. Hermes paused, glancing up at Tiresias.

“Little bird,” they murmured, voice low and tender. “You’ve been working long enough. Time to give your body a break.”

Hermes hesitated, eyes bright and hands still poised over the tapestry. “Just a little longer?” he asked eagerly. “I’m so close, Starlight. I swear I don’t have much left.” His wings fluttered, the excitement evident in every line of his body.

Tiresias hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing lightly through Hermes' hair. “Are you sure?” he asked gently. “You’ve been sitting like this for hours, little bird. I don’t want you to strain your back.” Their hand gently traced over Hermes’ spine, feeling the way it was hunched over.

Hermes grinned, his wings giving a delighted flicker. “I’m sure,” he replied. “Just a little longer, I promise.” His hands were already moving again, fingers deftly pulling the thread through the last few spaces, the edges of the tapestry coming together in perfect symmetry.

Tiresias sighed, but the sound was laced with affection. He settled down beside Hermes, his hand resting just beside the fallen god, not touching the god or his project, but close enough to feel the shift in air as Hermes worked. “Very well,” he murmured. “But only because I know how stubborn you are.”

Hermes chuckled, his fingers moving faster now, the image solidifying, the final threads pulling tight. His heart pounded with excitement, wings fluttering wildly. “There,” he whispered after a few minutes, voice soft and reverent. “It’s done.” Tiresias turned their head in his direction.

Hermes leaned back, head wings fluttering with satisfaction. He glanced up at Tiresias, eyes bright with pride. “Are you ready?” Hermes asked, voice trembling just slightly.

Tiresias nodded. “I’m ready, little bird,” he murmured, voice soft and full of love.

Hermes shifted closer, guiding Tiresias’s hands to the edges of the tapestry as he held it between them, his fingers gentle and precise. “It’s right here,” he whispered. “Start with the edges and work your way in.”

Tiresias’s hands hovered, fingers grazing the edges first. He inhaled sharply, the sensation of fine stitching meeting his fingertips, the threads meticulously woven, creating gentle ridges and valleys that mapped out the border. His hands moved slowly, savoring each tiny rise and fall. “You stitched the borders in knots,” he murmured, voice awestruck. “You made them…like vines, curling and stretching.” His fingers traced the tiny loops, each intricate knot crafted with care.

Hermes beamed, wings flickering with pride. “I wanted it to feel like it’s growing,” he whispered. “Like it’s alive.”

Tiresias’s hands traveled inward, fingertips brushing over the softened texture of the main design. He paused, brows knitting as he felt the ridges of stone etched into thread. His fingers dipped, finding the tiny curls of herb bundles, delicate and deliberate. “This is,” they began, voice cracking slightly. “This is our home.”

Hermes nodded, though Tiresias couldn’t see. “It is,” he replied, voice trembling. “I wanted you to have it, too. To be able to feel it whenever you wanted.”

Tiresias’s hands trembled as they passed over the bundles of herbs, the flicker of firelight caught in thread, the nest of blankets with its careful stitching. And at the center, his hands paused, finding the two figures nestled close. His breath hitched, fingertips brushing over the small wings on one of the figures and the staff beside the other.

“You,” Tiresias whispered, his voice breaking. “You made us.”

Hermes' eyes shone with tears, his wings flaring with emotion. “I did,” he whispered. “I made us. Our nest. Our fire. Everything. It’s our home.”

Tiresias’s hands swept over the image again, slower this time, reverent and deliberate. “It’s beautiful,” they murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I can feel it, Hermes. I can feel it all.”

Hermes leaned forward, their foreheads touching. “That’s all I wanted, Starlight,” he whispered, voice trembling. “That’s all I wanted.”

Tiresias’s hands continued to move slowly over the designs, feeling not only the threads and fabrics but the love and dedication poured into every stitch. 

They stayed like that for a long time, curled together in the nest, the tapestry spread across their laps. Tiresias’s fingers continued to trace the patterns, learning every detail with care. Occasionally, Hermes would guide his hand to something small, a flower he had stitched near the hearth, or the pattern of the stone walls. Each time, Tiresias would marvel, his voice soft with gratitude and love.

Then, Hermes guided Tiresias’s touch back to the two figures curled together. “And here,” he whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. “That’s us. Right in the middle. Right where we belong.”

Tiresias’s fingers trembled as they traced the lines of their entwined forms, the careful stitching that depicted the way they curled into each other, the gentle way their hand brushed over Hermes' head wings. He let out a breathy laugh, brushing his fingertips over the small stitches that showed Hermes' wings fluttering gently. “You even stitched movement,” he whispered, voice full of quiet wonder. “You made it feel like we’re alive. Right there.”

Tiresias turned his head just slightly, his lips brushing Hermes' temple. “You’ve given me more than I could have dreamed,” they whispered. “It’s more than beautiful. It’s us.”

Hermes' eyes grew damp, and he squeezed Tiresias’s hand. “I wanted you to have something that felt like home,” he murmured. “Because you make me feel at home. And I wanted you to feel that too.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup Hermes' cheek, his thumb brushing softly over his jawline. “I do,” he whispered, voice trembling with love. “You’ve given me a piece of your heart. I can feel it in every thread.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he leaned into Tiresias’s touch. “You’re my heart,” he whispered back. “But more than that, you’re my home. I realized it after I got back from Ithaca. Penelope and Odysseus assured me that I have a home there, but it wasn’t my home. I thought my home was our lovely cave, but I was wrong. It’s the prophet who lived in this lovely cave. It’s you, Starlight. Wherever you go, wherever you are, that’s my home. Because you’re my home.”

Tiresias gasped, the emotion from Hermes’ words washing over them. “Oh, Hermes. No one has ever said something so kind to me. I want you to know that you’ve given me something I never thought I’d have.” They paused, trying to find the right words to continue.

“A tapestry? Gee, Starlight. I could’ve gotten you one sooner, had I known.” Hermes teases. Tiresais sighed, affection mixed with exasperation.

“No, little trickster. You’ve given me life. You’ve given me a place, a love, a future. I never thought I’d be someone’s home. But more than that, you make me feel alive again.” They whispered, pulling Hermes in for a kiss. 

“I am honored to be your home, Hermes,” Tiresias whispered when they pulled apart.

Hermes tightened his grip, pressing his face into Tiresias’s shoulder. “You always will be,” he responded. “No matter what.”

Tiresias’s hands moved to cup the back of Hermes' head, fingers brushing through his hair. “And you’ll always be mine,” he whispered, voice thick with love. “My little bird. My light.”

Notes:

Second of the day! Love the sweet soft chapter.

Get ready for the next one on Wednesday! Something big is gonna happen (I think).

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 29

Summary:

Soft happiness time!!

A few days later, the wrap around his ankle and wing came off. Hermes was overjoyed.

“But Hermes, if your ankle starts to hurt, even starts to so much as ache, you tell me. Immediately. Understand? I don’t want you to risk damaging anything.” Tiresias’s voice was firm.

Giggling and spinning at his new freedom, wings fluttering happily, Hermes saluted. “As you command, Starlight.” 

“Thank you, sweet bird,” they said, gently wrapping their arms around the fallen god. Their hand brushed over Hermes’ head wings with a delicate touch. “I have a visitor coming by today,” they murmured, gently swaying the two, side to side. “A soul seeking prophecy.”

Hermes blinked, wings flickering with surprise. “Oh,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ve never seen you do one of those.” He leaned into the prophet. “Can I watch?”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound soft and warm. “You know better than that,” they teased. “It’s a very private matter for me and the soul who visits. You know I can’t have you watching.”

Hermes pouted dramatically. “Fine,” he sighed, stepping out of Tiresias’s arms and draping himself over the couch with an exaggerated flourish. “I suppose I’ll just waste away in boredom.”

Tiresias shook his head, clearly amused. “I think you’ll be alright, silly god,” he replied. “Especially since you won’t be alone.”

Hermes sat up, clearly intrigued. “I won’t?”

“You wound me, little bird. You think I would just let you suffer in boredom?” Tiresias frowned.

“Well, I suppose not. You do like to take care of me.” Hermes smiled, standing and hugging Tiresias, pressing kisses to the prophet’s frown until it was replaced with laughter. Tiresias’s laugh was infectious, soft and twinkling, yet full of joy. Hermes couldn’t help but join in, gently spinning them around. Laughter soon filled the cave with warmth and love.

“Is that laughter I hear? Without me?” A small squeak of excitement left Hermes as the two turned to face the new voice in the entryway.

“Polly!” Hermes exclaimed.

“There’s my little brother!” Apollo crossed the distance in three long strides, wrapping Hermes up in a tight, exuberant hug. Hermes melted into the embrace, his wings fluttering wildly.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Hermes said, pulling back to look up at his brother with wide, gleaming eyes.

Apollo chuckled, ruffling Hermes’ curls, earning a huff from the messenger. “Well, I didn’t either,” he admitted. “But Tiresias sent for me. Thought maybe you and I could spend the day together.” He tilted his head towards Tiresias, who inclined their head with a gentle smile.

Hermes’ eyes lit up. “Really?” He turned back to Tiresias. “You set this up?”

Tiresias smiled softly, hands resting on his staff. “I thought you might like to spend some time with your brother,” they said, voice tender. “While I handle the visitor, you two can go explore. It’ll be good for you to get out of the cave for a while.”

Hermes’ wings flared out wide, shimmering with delight. “Can we go to the mortal realm?” he asked, turning to Apollo with wide, eager eyes. “Can we?”

Apollo laughed, nodding. “Of course we can,” he agreed. “I thought that might be nice. I know a place with the softest grass and the brightest sun. You’ll love it.”

Hermes practically bounced in place, wings fluttering with glee. He turned back to Tiresias, eyes gleaming. “Are you sure? You won’t need me?”

Tiresias reached out, brushing his hand gently over Hermes’ cheek. “I’ll be alright, little bird,” they murmured. “You go and have fun. Enjoy the sun for me.” Hermes, trembling with excitement, hugged Tiresias again.

“Thank you, love. I’ll be careful, promise.” Hermes whispered, kissing the prophet.

“I know you will, sweet bird. Now go, your brother is waiting.” Tiresias laughed, gently shooing the messenger away.

Hermes wasted no time, grabbing Apollo’s hands and practically dragging his brother behind him.

“Gods, Hermes. Calm down. The mortal realm isn’t going anywhere.” Apollo laughed, quickening his pace to keep up with the messenger.

“It’s not, but with how slow you’re being, neither are we,” Hermes teased. Apollo rolled his eyes.

“Remind me why I wanted to come visit you again?” The god of light sighed, but there was no missing the warmth and happiness filling his voice.

Tiresias smiled as their voices got fainter and fainter. “Brothers,” he murmured, shaking his head fondly.

The sun was warm and bright, pouring down from the clear sky with a kind of radiance that Hermes hadn’t felt since Ithaca. The moment they stepped into the mortal realm, his wings flared out happily, stretching towards the light, feathers shimmering with delight.

“Oh gods,” Hermes sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “I missed this.” His wings gave an excited flicker, twitching as if drinking in the sunlight. He spun in place, arms stretched wide, letting the warmth settle into his skin.

Apollo chuckled, watching his brother with fondness. “Come on, I know the perfect spot,” he said, gesturing towards a gentle slope just beyond the trees.

Hermes practically skipped ahead, his wings fluttering with energy. The grass was soft and lush, stretching out like a green sea, dotted with wildflowers that danced in the breeze. Apollo followed at a more measured pace, a smile playing on his lips as he watched Hermes drop down into the grass with a dramatic flourish.

“Oh, I’m never leaving,” Hermes declared, stretching out his limbs and flaring his wings wide, letting them catch the sunlight. His wings twitched and flickered, basking in the warmth. He tilted his head back, eyes closed, a serene smile spreading across his face. “You’ll just have to visit me here, Pollo. This is my home now.”

Apollo laughed, settling down beside him with a graceful sweep of his robes. “You’d get lonely,” he teased, reaching out to brush a stray petal from Hermes’ curls. “I’m pretty sure Tiresias would come to drag you back.”

Hermes' wings flapped once, sending a flutter of grass blades into the air. “Well, I’d visit them, of course.” Then his eyes lit up. “Actually, I’d bring him to live here with me. He’d like the sun.”

Apollo turned his head, eyebrow raised with gentle curiosity. “Would he?” he asked, voice softening. He had seen Hermes in plenty of relationships, had watched his brother fall in love more than once, but never had he seen Hermes care this passionately about someone.

Hermes nodded eagerly, wings fluttering with excitement. “Oh, absolutely! He’s always so cooped up in that cave, don’t get me wrong, I love it there, but imagine him here!” He gestured grandly with his hands, wings flaring atop his head. “The sun on their skin, the wind through his hair. He’d look,” Hermes paused, swallowing softly, his eyes glimmering with emotion. “He’d look so beautiful.”

Apollo watched him, a smile playing on his lips. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone gentle and curious.

“Of course I have. I wish they weren’t trapped in the Underworld, though.” Hermes' expression changed, becoming more resolute. “I want to make it happen, I’d fight father himself if I had to. They deserve to feel this warmth.” 

Apollo’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently rest on Hermes’ shoulder. “Maybe one day, little brother,” he murmured, his voice threaded with warmth. “Maybe one day, you’ll bring him here. Hopefully without getting yourself killed.”

“I wouldn’t get killed, I’m resourceful, remember? I’m not the god of trickery for nothing.” Hermes said. Apollo raised his eyebrows.

“Well then, be sure to leave me out of the fight. I’d like to keep my head.” The music god teased. 

“That’s smart, you’re too slow to ever win the fight. Too clumsy. But I’ll win! I will!” Hermes exclaimed. Wings flaring indignantly. Apollo laughed.

“Sure you will. The tiny god of messages, who couldn’t beat me in a foot race, would definitely win against one of the most powerful gods on Olympus.” He teased. Hermes huffed.

“I’m not tiny!” He said before tackling his brother.

Hermes crashed into Apollo with all the force of a determined whirlwind, wings flaring wide as they tumbled back into the grass. Apollo let out a surprised yelp, but his laughter followed soon after, filling the clearing with a bright, unrestrained joy.

“Oh, so you do have some strength in those little arms?” Apollo teased, easily rolling with Hermes' weight, pinning him briefly before the messenger squirmed out from underneath.

Hermes grinned, eyes alight with mischief. “I’m stronger than you think!” he declared, diving back in and tackling Apollo to the ground. The grass cushioned their fall, blades tangling in their hair and sticking to their robes as they wrestled, laughter spilling out in bursts.

Apollo snorted, effortlessly flipping them over so that he was on top once more. “Oh really? Is that why I’m still winning?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow. Hermes squirmed beneath him, wings flapping wildly, grass and dirt stirring beneath their fluttering. Apollo’s hands found Hermes’ wrists, pinning them down with ease as his knees pressed against Hermes’ legs, mindful of the delicate wings on his brother’s ankles. “Looks like I still have the upper hand, little brother.”

Hermes huffed dramatically. “Only because you’re heavier!” he accused, his wings twitching indignantly. Apollo raised an eyebrow, grinning wickedly.

“Are you calling me fat?” Apollo asked, voice dripping with mock offense. “Because I’m fairly certain I’m just fit.”

Hermes laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just saying! You’ve got more to throw around than I do!” He tried to wiggle out from Apollo’s grasp, but his brother’s grip remained firm.

“Oh, is that so?” Apollo mused, leaning in closer. “Well, you know, there’s one thing I always remember about wrestling with you, little brother.” His grin widened, almost feral. “You’re incredibly ticklish.”

Hermes froze, eyes going wide with immediate panic. “Apollo. Don’t you dare,” he warned, wings flaring with a nervous flutter.

Apollo let go of Hermes’ hands, and the messenger immediately tried to pull away, but Apollo was far stronger than him. Hermes’ legs were still trapped, no matter how hard he tried to get away.

Apollo’s grin only widened. “Oh? What’s that? Did you say, go right ahead?” His hands crept toward Hermes’ sides, fingers wiggling in a way that was nothing short of menacing in this situation.

“No! Apollo, wait!” Hermes yelped, voice going high with panic. He squirmed desperately beneath his brother, wings flapping against the grass in a wild flutter. “You wouldn’t!”
 
Apollo’s hands hovered just above Hermes’ ribs, and his eyes glittered with mischief. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m right here. You’re pinned. It would be so easy.”

Hermes was giggling before Apollo even touched him, his head wings flaring out dramatically. “Don’t! Apollo, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what? Run away? I think I’ve got you pretty well handled right now.” Apollo’s fingers wiggled just a fraction closer, barely brushing against Hermes’ sides.

Hermes squeaked, twisting beneath him. “Apollo! I’m serious!” His voice was already cracking with giggles, wings shivering as he tried to inch away. “I’m too old for this!”

Apollo laughed, his hands finally making contact. “You’re never too old for this!” His fingers danced against Hermes' ribs, poking and prodding with practiced expertise.

Hermes erupted into helpless laughter, his wings flapping wildly against the grass, hands pushing weakly at Apollo’s shoulders. “A-Apollo! No! Sto–AHHH! Stop!” He shrieked, squirming with desperate energy, but Apollo’s hands were merciless.

“I don’t think I will!” Apollo teased, his hands darting to Hermes' sides, fingers dancing along the sensitive spots he knew all too well. “What was that you said? That I was slow? Couldn’t beat Father? What was it?”

Hermes was practically sobbing with laughter now, his wings flaring wildly. “I take it back! I take it back!” he gasped, voice breathless and shaking with mirth.

“Oh, I bet you do!” Apollo cackled, finally relenting and letting his hands fall away. Hermes collapsed back into the grass, wings splayed out, his chest heaving with frantic breaths.

“You. Are. The. Worst,” Hermes gasped, still giggling even as he tried to catch his breath. 

Apollo flopped down next to him, stretching his arms out behind his head. “You know you missed it,” he replied, his voice softening. “I used to do that all the time when you got too mouthy back on Olympus.”

Hermes snorted, brushing some of the grass from his wings. “And it was always undeserved.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? I seem to remember you getting me in trouble with Father at least four times a week.”

Hermes grinned, his wings flapping, trying to dislodge the dirt that had gotten trapped there. “Maybe five,” he admitted with a shrug, picking out a larger piece of grass from the wing.

Apollo chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, sometimes I forget how much I missed this.” His voice grew softer, more wistful. “Back when you were just a little whirlwind of feathers and trouble. Always underfoot, always talking my ear off. Father used to get so annoyed, but I always liked it. Most of the time, anyway.”

Hermes' grin faltered slightly, softening into something gentler. “Yeah?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Apollo nodded, turning to look at him with a fond smile. “Yeah. I’ve really missed you, Hermes.” He paused, then smirked. “Though I didn’t miss all of your incessant pranks.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, swatting at his brother’s shoulder. “I swear, I was framed every time!” They both saw the lie and laughed. 

Hermes’ wings twitched with laughter. He could still feel bits of dirt and glass laced along the feathers. He frowned and reached up, trying to dislodge what he could.

“Framed, were you?” Apollo teased. “Even the time when I caught you tying a chicken to my quiver."

Hermes blinked, still trying to get the dirt out of his wings. “I don’t remember anything of the sort. Must have been Athena.” He denied.

“Oh, Athena, really? I find that hard to believe for so many reasons. Mainly because when I entered the temple, ready to go hunting, you were perched on one of the columns, holding my quiver and giggling like you’d just watched Hera scold father.”

Hermes huffed, absentmindedly digging his nails a bit deeper into the feathers, trying to rid himself of the nagging itch. “I would have gotten away with it, too, if you hadn’t shown up so early.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Showed up early? Hermes, I watched you for a solid five minutes before you even noticed me.”

Hermes’ wings flared indignantly, his hands stopping their picking for just a moment. “I was focused! Do you know how hard it is to tie a chicken to a quiver without it squawking?”

Apollo laughed, the sound bright and clear. “Oh, I’m aware. Especially since the moment I caught you, that poor thing exploded out of your hands and ran away.”

Hermes cackled, clutching his stomach. “There were feathers everywhere!” The itch didn’t leave, though, and Hermes’ hands carelessly started tugging through the feathers to ease the feeling.

“I still can’t believe Father let you get away with it. You didn’t even have to help clean up the feathers.” Apollo huffed, looking away dramatically.

“They’re feathers, Polly. They blow away in the wind. Besides, they made great decoratio–OW!” His nail caught a feather, accidentally yanking it free. Apollo looked back at Hermes, frowning. He saw the poor wing flapping, and then saw the feather Hermes held.

“Geez, Herms. Be careful.” Apollo said. Hermes groaned.

“They itch, Pollo. It’s driving me crazy!” His hand returned to the wing just as forcefully, trying to pick out all the debris. Apollo reached over and gently grabbed Hermes’ arm, stopping him from hurting the wing further.

“Hermes, stop. Here, let me help.” He said, moving behind his brother and beginning to preen his wings.

Apollo’s hands were gentle, practiced from centuries of helping Hermes with his wings. He knelt behind Hermes, head wings flared gently, comfortably, before him, the sunlight cast a soft, shimmering glow across each feather. 

“Little wing, you’ve really let these go,” Apollo murmured with a chuckle, flicking away a stubborn blade of grass. “What were you doing, rolling around in a haystack?”

“Maybe,” Hermes replied, he chuckled as wings gave a gentle flutter. “Or maybe someone tackled me into the grass.”

Apollo snorted, fingers deftly working through the feathers. “You started it, little whirlwind. You know better than to pick a fight with someone stronger than you.” He paused, flicking another stray bit of dirt from a feather. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you didn’t snap a pinion the way you wrestle.”

Hermes huffed, wings twitching indignantly. “I’m more careful than you think, Pollo. And I didn’t snap anything, see? I’m in perfect condition.”

“You always were so messy,” Apollo teased, his voice light. “You remember that time Father sent you to deliver that message to Mykonos, and you came back covered in soot and mud? I swear, it took me hours to get your wings clean and back to normal.”

Hermes chuckled, wings twitching beneath Apollo’s hands. “Hey, that wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know the storm was going to come out of nowhere? Besides, you liked fixing them. Gave you an excuse to lecture me.”

Apollo snorted. “Please, you don’t need an excuse to be lectured. You create them all on your own.” Apollo’s hands continued smoothing and straightening. His expression softened as he worked, the movement of his hands rhythmic and steady. His fingers brushed along the clipped ends of the primaries, his eyes trained on the patterns he knew so well. “I forgot how soft your feathers are,” he mused aloud, voice dropping to a whisper. “I used to help you with this all the time.”

Hermes let out a soft hum, his head tilting back just slightly. “I remember,” he murmured. “You used to tell me that if I flew around like a wild thing, I’d lose half my feathers in the process.”

“And I wasn’t wrong,” Apollo teased, his hands moving to the other head wing, finding each little spot of disarray and setting it right. “You’d come back with feathers missing, twigs in your hair, mud on your sandals. And who always had to clean you up?”

Hermes' wings twitched, a smile breaking through his features. “You did,” he replied, a bit more bashful now. “Always you.”

Apollo’s hands paused just for a moment, his expression softening. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Always me.” He let the silence hang for a beat longer before picking back up, fingers working with practiced precision.

Hermes relaxed further into the touch, his wings fluttering every so often, the sensation of having them cleaned and preened so meticulously soothing him. “You’re still good at this,” he mumbled. “I forgot how nice it feels.”

Apollo smiled softly, his hands continuing their work. “I didn’t,” he replied gently. “I used to hope you’d ask me sometimes. Just so I could help you again. I’ll admit I was a little sad once you were able to take care of them yourself.”

Hermes' wings flared just slightly at that, a soft flush creeping up his cheeks. “Well, you’re always welcome to help, you know. I always struggle with getting the small specks out. It feels nice when you do it.” His voice was small, but sincere.

Apollo’s hands stilled just for a moment before continuing, slower now, more deliberate. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, smiling.

“You’ll have to show Tiresias sometime,” Hermes continued. “He does just fine, but they’re too gentle. Like they’re afraid the smallest tug will hurt me. I appreciate the concern, I really do, but it doesn’t always get everything out.” Apollo nodded.

“I’d be glad to show him sometime.” He smoothed out the last feather on Hermes' head wings, stepping back to admire his work. “Alright, those look good.”

Hermes sighed, immediately feeling the relief now that all the dirt was gone. “Thanks, Pollo. Feels a lot better.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let me see those.” He gestured towards Hermes' ankle wings.

Hermes hesitated for a moment before extending his legs, wings fluttering just slightly. Apollo’s hands moved to the delicate feathers on Hermes’ ankles, and his expression shifted immediately to the left one. 

The feathers there were in disarray, some bent at odd angles, the skin beneath still holding a faint hint of purple and blue. Bruises. Apollo’s eyes narrowed in concern, his fingers brushing ever so gently over the area.

“Hermes,” he murmured. “What happened here?”

Hermes stiffened, his wings flickering back defensively. “It’s fine,” he said quickly, too quickly. “It’s just a little bruise. I’m fine.”

Apollo’s hands didn’t move, hovering with infinite care just above the injured area. “A little bruise?” he echoed, voice dripping with disbelief. “Hermes, this isn’t little. This…this looks like you fell from Olympus itself.”

Hermes chuckled nervously, shifting in place. “Well, I didn’t fall from Olympus this time, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he replied, trying for levity. “I just had a bit of a rough landing during a game.”

“A game?” Apollo asked. He moved to the right ankle wing, fingers working through that one first. However, he pressed for more information; the concern in his voice was unmistakable. “What kind of game leaves you like that?”

Hermes hesitated, wings twitching against Apollo’s hands. “It was just hide and seek,” he mumbled finally. “I, umm, well, I might have tried to hide somewhere a little too high. And I might have, uh, landed a little harder than I meant to. And landed on top of it.”

Apollo’s hands froze. “Landed on it?” Hermes chuckled, nodding sheepishly.

Apollo took a breath, finishing the right wing. He returned to the bruised wing, brushing his fingers delicately over the feathers. 

“Hermes,” he murmured, voice laced with worry. “You’ve got to be careful. You know how fragile these wings are. You’re not,” he hesitated, “not like before.” His voice dropped slightly.

Hermes winced, nodding. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be careful, I really am. But it’s hard, Polly. I just…I don’t want to feel like I can’t do things anymore.”

Apollo’s hands continued their careful work, smoothing and straightening, brushing away any lingering bits of dirt or grass. “I know, little wing,” he murmured. “But I don’t want to see you hurt.” His fingers moved to the edges of the wing, delicately straightening the feathers.

“Hermes,” he whispered, voice thick with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Tiresias? You shouldn’t be walking on this.”

“I-I didn’t want to worry anyone,” Hermes admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And Tiresias found out anyway. They’ve been taking care of it. He wrapped it for a few days, and I’m fine now. Really. They said as long as I don’t strain it today, I’ll be fine.”

Apollo nodded. “This will heal. Tiresias did a good job taking care of it. But you have to be more careful in the future. Promise me.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings flickering with tension. “I promise,” he whispered. “I’m trying.” 

“Thank you, Hermes. That’s all I ask. You’ve been through so much pain, I hate to see more fall on you.” Apollo said. Hermes laughed, lighting the air.

“Come on, Pollo. I’ve always been resilient. Getting hurt was just part of my nature.” He laughed. Apollo smiled, finishing up the delicate wing.

“Trouble really did follow you. It was like you were a magnet, silly brother.” He teased. Hermes laughed, drawing Apollo’s attention away from the bruised wing, bringing a smile to his face. Hermes’ laugh was always a thing of joy. Something that brought light to the world around him.

But a memory hit him. One that had left Hermes in such a bad state of disarray. Apollo frowned, fingers curled slightly, nails brushing, picking against the tender skin around his thumb. 

Hermes blinked, his eyes softening, catching the movement. “Polly?” he asked gently, reaching out to catch Apollo’s hand. Apollo stilled, blinking in surprise as Hermes laced their fingers together, gently pulling his hand away from itself. 

“Hey,” Hermes said softly. “What’s going on?”

Apollo hesitated, his eyes flickering away. His hands stilled, and his fingers flexed slightly, almost as if he was resisting the urge to return to the habit. “Nothing, I’m just…thinking.” His voice was a little too light, a little too easy.

Hermes didn’t let go. He squeezed Apollo’s hand, his wings fluttering with gentle concern. “Thinking about what?” he asked softly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you do that.”

Apollo hesitated, his gaze dropping to the grass. “It’s just, remember that time? When you came back from that job Father sent you on? The one way up north?” His voice was softer now, almost distant. “You were gone for so long. None of us knew what had happened. Father didn’t say a word, and then one day you just came back covered in blood and ash. Your wings…they were so mangled.” His hand tightened in Hermes', his voice trembling just slightly. “I worried they wouldn’t heal.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings fluttering instinctively. “Pollo…”

Apollo shook his head, forcing a smile. “When I see your wings hurt like this, I can’t help but remember that day.” His voice cracked just slightly, but he steadied himself, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t want to see you like that again.”

Hermes' grip on his hand tightened, his eyes shining with gratitude. “You won’t,” he promised. “Never again.”

Apollo’s smile softened, and his free hand came up to brush through Hermes' hair. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I couldn’t handle it a second time.”

They stayed like that for a while, the sun warm on their backs, Apollo’s hand gently smoothing over Hermes' wings, and Hermes' fingers laced firmly through Apollo’s, grounding him.

Notes:

The brothers are back!!!

Teeheehee. Posting again later cause I'm too excited to wait. Stay tuned!!

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! As always, take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 30

Summary:

You know, this is easily one of my favorite chapters…just enjoy. No summary, just enjoy.

:)

The sunlight was warm, pooling across the soft grass where Hermes and Apollo lay sprawled out. Hermes' wings fluttered occasionally, still basking in the warmth, stretching out to catch every ray of sunshine. Apollo leaned back on his hands, eyes squinting up at the cloudless sky.

“You know, I missed this,” Apollo murmured, voice soft with nostalgia. “Just existing with you.”

Hermes turned his head, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Me too,” he whispered, his voice almost carried away by the gentle breeze. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Apollo’s expression darkened, just for a moment. “You know I tried,” he murmured. “After – after it happened. I tried to reach you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly, a shiver running through him. “I know,” he replied quietly. “I know you did.” He reached out, placing his hand over Apollo’s. “But you’re here now.”

Apollo squeezed his hand, warmth returning to his gaze. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m here now.”

A hush settled over them, the gentle sway of grass the only sound. Hermes' wings rustled, feathers brushing against the earth as he relaxed into the moment. But then, everything stilled.

The grass stopped swaying. The breeze fell silent. Even the distant hum of the insects ceased as if the world itself had gone still. Hermes sat up, wings fluttering with sharp unease. Apollo’s hand clenched around his. “Polly?” Hermes whispered, voice tight with sudden anxiety.

Apollo’s gaze was fixed ahead, eyes sharp and unblinking. “Hermes,” he murmured, standing suddenly, voice barely above a breath. “Get behind me.”

The messenger blinked, confusion flickering across his features as he too stood up. “What are you–”

“Get. Behind. Me.” Apollo’s voice was firmer now, edged with something Hermes hadn’t heard in a long time. Fear.

Hermes' wings flared instinctively, but he did as he was told, slipping behind his brother, eyes wide and darting around the stillness. “What’s going on?” he whispered, voice trembling.

And then, the sky rippled. A heavy, suffocating weight pressed down upon them, thickening the air and turning the sunlight cold. Hermes reached out, gripping the back of Apollo’s robe. “What is that?” Hermes breathed, voice a trembling whisper.

A low rumble rolled through the ground, vibrating up their legs and settling heavily in their chests. Apollo’s jaw clenched. “Him,” he said simply, voice a clipped edge.

Hermes' eyes went wide. He didn’t have to ask who. There was only one god who could make the air still and the earth tremble with nothing more than his presence. “Oh gods,” Hermes whispered, his wings curling tight around his calves. “Pollo–”

“Stay still. Stay quiet.” Apollo’s voice was firm, unyielding. He stood straighter, shoulders set back, though Hermes saw the way his fingers twitched, the subtle picking at the soft skin near his thumb. Hermes reached out instinctively, placing his hand over Apollo’s, stopping the motion. Apollo shot him a quick glance, surprised, but Hermes only gave a single nod. He was here. He wasn’t going to leave.

The sky darkened, sunlight flickering like a dying flame as thunder clouds covered it. Hermes sucked in a breath, wings shivering as the shadows deepened. And then…he appeared.

A crack of thunder, sharp and precise, split the silence. Zeus stepped from the shivering air, robes billowing with a power that pulsed through the ground beneath them. His eyes, sharp and cold, swept over the field, landing with precision on Apollo. His gaze didn’t flicker to Hermes, not even once.

“Hello, son.”

Apollo nodded respectfully. “Father. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Hermes' wings flickered, instinctively flaring out before he caught himself. He bowed his head, the motion more practiced than voluntary, shoulders dipping as he painfully remembered his place. He was not a god anymore, not in the eyes of Olympus, not in the eyes of the King before him. He was nothing but an exile, and showing anything less than perfect respect would bring consequences. Zeus had made that clear enough. He folded his wings in tight, head dropping lower, gaze fixed on the grass beneath his feet.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, the sky rumbling faintly with the movement. “Do not pretend ignorance with me,” he replied smoothly. His gaze shifted, just briefly, to Hermes before returning to Apollo. “You’ve been fraternizing with him.” The word was spat out, sharp and dismissive.

Apollo straightened just a fraction, his voice steady. “Fraternizing? Father, I–”

Zeus’s hand cut through the air, silencing him. “Do not mince words with me, Apollo. I forbade the gods from aiding him. He was cast out for a reason. Or have you forgotten my orders?” His eyes gleamed, the sky crackling faintly with distant thunder. “I gave my word that none were to help him, none were to offer him any form of assistance in this punishment. Exile means exile.”

Apollo lifted his chin, defiance sparking just barely behind his eyes. “I wasn’t aiding him,” he replied carefully, each word measured. “We were only speaking. You forbade the gods from offering aid, but you did not forbid conversation.”

A flicker of amusement crossed Zeus’s expression, cold and brittle. “You think you’ve found a loophole in my decree, boy?” He took a step forward, the ground seeming to hum beneath his feet. “Conversation or support, it matters not. You are consorting with a disgrace. With him.” His gaze moved to linger on Hermes for a heartbeat too long. “And you, exile, have you forgotten your place?”

Hermes stiffened, head still bowed. His wings trembled, but he forced them still. “No, Lord Zeus,” he replied, voice quiet but steady. “I remember.”

Zeus’s gaze sharpened. “Then you understand the danger of infecting your brother with your…insubordination.” The word was heavy, laced with venom.

Hermes' wings twitched, the feathers bristling instinctively. He stilled them. “Yes, Lord Zeus. I understand.” He kept his voice measured and respectful.

Zeus’s eyes gleamed, sharp and unyielding. “You are nothing more than a discarded god,” he sneered, voice dripping with disdain. “Exiled by my own hand. You think you’re still part of us? You think you’re still worthy of godly company? You are nothing, Hermes.”

Hermes swallowed, the insult slicing through him with a familiar sting, but he did not raise his head. “I understand, Lord Zeus.”

Apollo’s grip tightened, his knuckles going white. “You’ve made your point, Father,” he said carefully, his voice controlled but laced with strain. “There’s no need to—”

“There’s every need!” Zeus roared, voice cracking across the field like lightning. The clouds above shuddered, swirling darker, heavy with unspent wrath. He stepped forward, towering over both gods, his gaze piercing. “I will not have my children defy me. I will not have them sully themselves with the presence of a traitor.”

“He’s your child, too, Father. Have you forgotten that?” Apollo cried.

“He is not anymore!” Zeus shouted. The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, and for a moment, all was silent.

Hermes flinched but did not raise his gaze. His wings twitched, the feathers rustling like dry leaves, but he held his tongue. He had not expected Zeus to feel that strongly; he felt the hurt sinking into his bones. Apollo’s hand remained steady on his wrist, a lifeline of warmth and support.

Finally, Zeus turned his gaze back to Apollo, eyes narrowing. “Leave him,” he commanded. “Now. And return to your duties.”

Hermes braced himself for the abandonment. He knew it would hurt, it had hurt when Athena had run from him. It would hurt more with Apollo. But he knew Tiresias was waiting. He could go home, and Tiresias would be there to hold him, to soothe the pain. He waited, but Apollo didn’t move. His jaw clenched, eyes flickering toward Hermes just for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft but resolute. “No.”

Zeus stilled. The sky went deathly silent, the crackle of power buzzing just beneath the surface. “What did you say?”

Apollo straightened, eyes burning with defiance. “I said no. I have committed no crime. I’ve done nothing against your decree. I am simply speaking with my brother.”

The silence stretched, tension crackling between them like the edge of a storm. Zeus’s eyes blazed, and his hand twitched at his side, lightning sparking faintly at his fingertips. “You forget yourself,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper. “I can make you remember.”

Apollo swallowed but did not waver. His hand remained steady on Hermes' wrist, fingers tight and unmoving. “I have forgotten nothing, Lord Zeus.”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, his gaze like ice. “I will not say it again, Apollo. Leave him. Now.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings trembling just slightly. He knew this would not end well. He had seen Zeus’s temper enough times to know what was coming. His mind flickered back to his own punishment, the flash of lightning, the thunderous roar that had marked his fall. He couldn’t let that same pain fall onto his brother as well. His hands shook, but he clenched them into fists, grounding himself. He wasn’t going to cower. Not this time.

“Lord Zeus,” Hermes began, his voice steady, though his head remained bowed. “I am not one of your gods anymore. Remember? I was cast out, stripped of my titles, my status. All done by your hand. I have committed no crimes against the gods since then. I have minded my own business. Lord Apollo has done nothing wrong. He simply chose to engage in pleasant conversation with me. But I beseech you, mighty God King, please, if you are to punish anyone, let it be me for distracting Lord Apollo from his duties.”

Zeus turned his gaze to Hermes, eyes flaring with fury and something sharper, darker. “You dare speak to me, exile?” His voice dropped, thunder rumbling softly beneath his words. “You dare address me as if you have any place left in my court?”

Hermes straightened just a fraction, his wings tucked tight. “I only address you with the respect you are due, Lord Zeus,” he replied, voice soft but unwavering. “I am an exile, yes. But Lord Apollo is not. He has done nothing wrong.” His voice softened, almost gentle.

“Hermes, stop. Neither of us will be punished. Neither of us have done anything wrong.” Apollo fixed a glare on the great King of the Gods. “You forget, Father, that Hermes and I are under Hades’ protection. You cannot hurt us.”

Zeus’s expression faltered just slightly, a crack in the storm clouds. “Hades!” he spat, as if the name itself was something bitter. “You think that will protect you?”

A low, familiar cough echoed from behind. “Oh, I think it just might,” a smooth voice murmured, soft as shadows.

Zeus’s head whipped around, and there, leaning casually against a tree with a crooked grin, was Hades. His gaze was sharp, calculated, and entirely unafraid.

“Well, well,” Hades drawled, straightening up with the grace of shadows slipping from the walls. “Looks like I’m just in time.”

Zeus’s eyes flashed, lightning flickering across the sky. His eyes flicked to Hades, barely veiling his disdain. “You have no right to interfere, brother. They are not in your realm. You hold no power here.” His voice was sharp, a blade drawn in the air. “They are mine to handle while in this realm.” His gaze shifted to Apollo, then to Hermes, dripping with cold condescension. “And one of them has long since lost his claim to Olympus.”

Hades did not flinch. He merely adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, his expression cool and detached. “True,” he replied, his voice smooth and unbothered. “However, both are under my protection.” He stepped forward, closing the distance with a measured stride, placing himself in front of Hermes, blocking the trembling messenger from Zeus’s gaze. His hand came up to rest on Apollo’s shoulder, and the younger god visibly relaxed under the touch.

“The mortal realm is yours, dear brother. But the Underworld? That is mine, and with it, I claimed certain liberties. My rule is absolute, and it extends to my protection.” His eyes darkened, the shadows around him flickering like embers. “You hold no power over my domain. And you hold no power over those under my protection.” He gestured lightly to Hermes and Apollo. “Both are mine to guard, and you have no say in it. Mark my words, Zeus. I will not let any harm come to my family.” His voice was low and unyielding, each word deliberate and sharp.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, lightning flickering just behind his pupils. “Your family?” he repeated, the words like a curse. “I don’t recall Apollo ever pledging himself to your dark kingdom.”

Hades smiled, though the gesture did not reach his eyes. “You’re right, Brother. He didn’t.” He turned his gaze to Apollo, his hand still firm and grounding on the god’s shoulder. “But Apollo came willingly under my protection. And you will find, as always, that those I protect are not so easily harmed.”

Zeus’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You presume too much, Hades,” he growled, the sky darkening just slightly above them. “I am King of the Gods. You hold no claim over him.”

Hades’ smile widened just slightly, though it was a shadow of amusement rather than joy. “King of the Gods, yes. But not king of me.” His voice dripped with calm certainty, the kind of certainty that came with ruling a domain untouched by Zeus's grasp. He took a deliberate step forward, his gaze locked with Zeus's. “You may rule Olympus and the mortal realm, but the Underworld is mine. And the moment I took up its mantle, I was released from your command. You hold no command over me, little brother.”

“He is not yours, Hades. Apollo is my son. He is mine to command.” Zeus hissed, voice low and dangerous. Hades’ eyes flashed and narrowed.

“They are both your sons, Zeus. Have you forgotten that?” Hades sneered.

“He is not my son.” Hermes’ heart sank. He had hoped that Zeus was speaking foolishly earlier, but the God King said it a second time, and Hermes could tell that he believed it and was speaking what he truly thought. Hermes was no longer Zeus’s son. A soft, strangled cry escaped him, and he flinched, half expecting Zeus to turn on him for making noise. Zeus and Hades were too busy arguing to notice, but Apollo heard. His hold on his brother’s wrist tightened, thumb gently running along his skin soothingly.

“I had hoped you were better than that, Zeus. Forsaking your own son over such a small act. How could you?” Hades said, truly sounding hurt.

“I am doing what is responsible–”

“You are not. You are appeasing your ego; your pride. Do not mistake true responsibility with your fragile ego, God King.” Hades warned.

“Do not speak against me, Hades. He has been cast out, I cannot be associated with an exile.” Zeus answered.

“You cast him out. It was your choice to do so. You have hurt the young god–”

“He is no god right now, Hades. That was his punishment. No child of mine is not divine, Hades. He is not mine, nor is he his mother’s.” Zeus declared. Hermes faltered, barely holding back a cry. Not my mother. Please. Don’t say she isn’t my family anymore, either. He silently begged. A few tears fell, unnoticed by anyone but the bowed, fallen god.

“You have no right to speak for Maia in such a way, brother. Your arrogance is showing.” Hades growls. “You are a sorry excuse for a father, brother. Now, I believe that Olympus calls you. Leave now. They are mine to protect; your time here is wasted.

Zeus’s face twisted, fury etched into every line. “You would claim him as your own? That winged fool who defied me?” he spat, pointing an accusing finger at Hermes. The messenger flinched, shrinking back, wings pressed tightly against his calves, his hands fisted at his sides, head still bowed low. His entire body tensed, instinctively trying to make himself smaller, less of a target for Zeus’s wrath.

Hades' eyes glimmered with something sharp, dangerous. “Yes,” he replied simply. “I would. He was mine the moment you cast him out.”

Zeus stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You would dare defy me? For him?” He snarled, pointing to Hermes, who still had not lifted his head, wings trembling against his calves.

Hades' eyes flashed dangerously, his voice snapping with sudden intensity. “HE HAS A NAME, ZEUS!” The air crackled with power, a shudder rippling through the ground beneath their feet. Hades straightened, his eyes burning like cold embers. “He is Hermes. Your son. Your blood. No matter what you say. But you only ever call him by what you’ve made him.” His voice softened, but the edge remained. “And I will defy you for him. For both of them.”

Zeus’s jaw clenched, the tension crackling in the air. “You would risk my wrath over this?” His voice was low, edged with something venomous.

Hades barely blinked. “I have already faced your wrath. It did not impress me then, and it does not impress me now.” He sighed, a hint of exasperation slipping through. “You always did throw such tantrums, little brother.”

Zeus’s eyes flashed with fury, his hands curling into fists. “I am the King of the Gods!” he roared, the sky cracking with a violent boom of thunder.

Hades merely sighed, as though Zeus were no more than a child throwing a fit. “Yes, yes, you’ve mentioned.” He glanced around at the barren landscape. “And yet, you’re here throwing a tantrum over things that are no longer yours to control. Apollo is under my protection. Hermes is under my protection. And I would rather tear the Underworld apart than let you harm either of them.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “They are mine to protect, now.”

Zeus’s expression darkened, but before he could speak, Hades stepped forward, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for his brother’s ears. “You want to test me, little brother? I suggest you think carefully. You have already lost one son. Do you wish to lose another?”

There was a flicker of something, hesitation, perhaps, in Zeus’s eyes. His gaze snapped back to Apollo, then briefly to Hermes, whose head still remained bowed, wings trembling at his calves. For a moment, the air grew impossibly still, the very world itself held its breath.

Then, without another word, Zeus vanished, the air crackling with the remnants of his fury.

Hermes held his breath, wings pressed tightly against his calves, his head still bowed, hands fisted at his sides, body rigid as though expecting to be struck. Apollo’s hand was firm on his wrist, grounding him, but it wasn’t enough to pull him from his bowed stance. He remained like that for several moments, as though afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

Hades sighed, stepping forward until he was standing right before Hermes. “He’s gone, Hermes,” he murmured gently. “You can lift your head now.” He reached out, brushing his hand against Hermes' head wings, smoothing down the trembling feathers with a touch so gentle it was almost a whisper. “You’re safe.”

Hermes shuddered, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His wings twitched, but he still did not move. Hades glanced at Apollo, who was still gripping his wrist. They shared a look of understanding, and together, they moved.

Apollo knelt beside Hermes, his hand brushing gently over Hermes' back. “Hey, it’s alright,” he murmured softly. “He’s gone. You can look up now, Hermes.”

Slowly, haltingly, Hermes lifted his head, eyes wide and wary. His wings twitched, the feathers ruffling slightly, but he met Apollo’s gaze, and then Hades’, with fragile courage.

“There you are,” Apollo whispered, his hand still steady on Hermes’ back. “You’re alright. I’m right here.”

Hades stepped back, giving them space. His voice was softer now, almost reverent. “Zeus has been dealt with. For now, at least.” He inclined his head toward the sunlight spilling over the cliffside. “Enjoy the sunshine. And don’t hesitate to call for me should you need my aid.” His eyes flickered with something almost paternal. “I meant what I said. You are under my protection now.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings fluttering with the faintest tremor. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. He straightened just a little, his wings settling more comfortably at his calves.

Hades inclined his head. “I’ll take my leave, then. You two try to enjoy yourselves.” He cast one last glance at Apollo, something unspoken passing between them, before he stepped back and vanished into the shadows as quietly as he had come.

Hermes stood still for a moment, the sunlight warming his wings, Apollo’s hand still steady on his shoulder. Finally, Hermes took a breath, releasing the tension from his body, his wings fluttering softly at his sides.

Apollo squeezed his shoulder. “You alright?”

Hermes hesitated. “No. But I will be.” He looked out at the sun-drenched fields, his wings stretching slightly in the warmth. “Let’s go enjoy the sunshine. Why should we let Zeus ruin our day?”

Apollo smiled, pulling him into a quick, fierce hug. “That’s the spirit.”

The tension lingered like a whisper, fading slowly with the sunlight’s warmth. Apollo’s hand remained firm on Hermes' shoulder, grounding him, steadying him. Hermes took one more shuddering breath, eyes blinking rapidly as if to clear the remnants of Zeus’s presence from his mind. Finally, he straightened, wings giving a soft, deliberate flutter as he pulled back from Apollo’s grip.

“Well,” Hermes began, his voice too bright, too cheerful, as he dusted off his robes. “That was certainly…dramatic.” He flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess your father always did know how to make an entrance.” Apollo did not miss the way Hermes’ expression faltered at ‘your father.’

Apollo raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. “Hermes,”

“Nope!” Hermes declared, clapping his hands together loudly, wings flaring behind him with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I am not going to dwell on that. I refuse to let that old blowhard ruin my day.” He stepped back, stretching his arms wide, wings flexing outward like he intended to catch the sunlight and soak it up. “Come on, Polly! The sun’s still shining, the grass is still green, and you promised me a good time.”

Apollo’s expression softened, but the concern lingered. “Hermes, you don’t have to–”

“Ah!” Hermes interrupted, holding up a finger, his grin widening. “Nope. Not today. Today is ours. Zeus can keep his thunder and gloom. We’ve got sunshine and mischief.” He wagged his eyebrows, head wings fluttering playfully.

Apollo blinked, then a slow smile crept onto his face. “Mischief, huh?” he mused, crossing his arms. “You think you still have it in you, little brother?”

Hermes gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Still? Apollo, please. I am the god of mischief! I invented it.” He bounded forward, grabbing Apollo’s wrist and tugging him along. 

Apollo stumbled a bit before finding his stride, jogging to catch up. “Hermes, where are we going?” he asked, laughing as his brother playfully dragged him along.

Hermes only cackled in response, wings flaring wide as he pulled Apollo toward the edge of the field. “You said there were streams out here, right? With those big, flat stones?”

Apollo’s eyes narrowed with a glimmer of nostalgia. “You want to play skipstone? We haven’t done that since you were barely taller than my knee.”

Hermes' wings flapped excitedly. “Exactly! Come on, I bet I can still beat you. You remember last time?”

Apollo scoffed, shaking his head. “I remember you cheating last time.”

Hermes gasped, feigning outrage. “I would never!” His wings flared wide, fluffing up with mock indignation. “I simply found the best angle.”

Apollo burst out laughing, and the sound was like sunlight breaking through clouds. “That’s what you call it?”

Hermes grinned, mischief sparking in his eyes. “You’ll call it cheating when I win again.” Without another word, he took off, wings flaring as he sprinted toward the distant line of trees, his laughter trailing behind him.

“Oh, you little sneak!” Apollo yelled, racing after him, his stride powerful and sure. “Get back here!”

Hermes only laughed louder, his wings fluttering as he bounded over small rocks and twisted through the patches of wildflowers. He glanced back over his shoulder, catching the wide grin on Apollo’s face as he pursued. “You’re going to have to be faster than that, Pollo!” Hermes called out, his voice teasing and full of life.

Apollo sped up, easily closing the distance. “You forget, little brother, your wings are far too loud to hide from me,” he called, his eyes shining with mirth.

Hermes' voice echoed back, sing-song and teasing. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, I’d have to try harder!”

Apollo snorted, climbing up after him. “Alright, I’ll play along.” He reached the top of the ledge and saw nothing but grass and sunlight. He blinked, frowning. “Hermes?”

No answer.

Apollo took a step forward, scanning the area. “Hermes, I swear if you’re planning to–”

He was cut off by a sudden burst of wings and a shout. “Boo!” Hermes leapt from behind a boulder, wings flaring wide, tackling Apollo to the ground. They tumbled through the grass, laughter spilling out of both of them.

Hermes ended up on top, pinning Apollo’s wrists with a triumphant grin. “Gotcha,” he declared proudly.

Apollo huffed, grinning despite himself. “Alright, alright! You win this time.” Apollo chuckled. “Well, you did.” That was the only warning Hermes got before Apollo twisted beneath him, pulling his arms, with Hermes’ hands still grabbing them, apart, unbalancing the messenger.

With a soft yelp of surprise, Hermes tipped forward, grip loosening on Apollo’s wrist, allowing the god of music to pull his arms out and, once again, roll the two over.

Hermes barely had time to register the shift before his back hit the grass, Apollo’s hands pinning his wrists once more, a triumphant grin spreading across his brother’s face. “You really thought you had me, huh?” Apollo teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hermes huffed, wings flaring indignantly beneath him. “I did have you!” he retorted, struggling half-heartedly against Apollo’s grip. “You just cheated!”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Cheated?” he echoed, voice dripping with mock offense. “I think you’re just a sore loser, little brother.” He shifted his weight slightly, his grin widening. “And I think I know just the thing for sore losers.”

Hermes’ eyes went wide. “No. No, Apollo, don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare,” Apollo replied smoothly, fingers inching toward Hermes' sides. “I think someone needs to be reminded of their place as the little brother.”

“Pollo! No!” Hermes shrieked, his wings flaring wide as he writhed beneath Apollo, but it was too late. Apollo’s fingers made contact with his ribs, and Hermes dissolved into immediate, breathless laughter. “N-No! Ahh! Not—st-stop!”

Apollo’s grin only widened as his fingers skittered along Hermes’ sides, prodding gently at the most sensitive spots. “What was that?” he asked innocently, fingers moving up to poke just beneath Hermes’ arms. “I can’t hear you over all that giggling.”

Hermes flailed, wings flapping wildly against the grass, hands tugging desperately at Apollo’s grip. “You—you’re cheating!” he gasped, laughter spilling out in waves. “A-Apollo, please!”

Apollo’s eyes glittered with glee. “You know, I think you forget how ticklish you are,” he mused, fingers dancing down to Hermes' sides, squeezing gently. “You should know that that is such an easy weakness.”

Hermes shrieked, twisting beneath him. “Y-You’re evil! EVIL!” he howled, tears of laughter welling up in his eyes. “P-Pollo, mercy!”

Apollo chuckled, leaning back just slightly, but not enough to let Hermes escape. “Mercy?” he echoed, voice dripping with mock surprise. “You? Asking me for mercy? I thought you were stronger than that.”

Hermes squealed, wings flapping desperately. “You’re…you’re not fighting fair!” he cried, laughter cracking his voice. “Y-You’re cheating!”

Apollo’s fingers paused for just a moment, hovering threateningly over Hermes' sides. “Cheating?” he asked, his grin returning. “Hermes, you wound me.” His hands darted back to Hermes’ ribs, and the messenger practically screamed with laughter. “I’m just using strategy. My little brother does that all the time.”

Hermes thrashed, wings beating uselessly against the grass. “I s-swear I’m gonna—ACK! Polly!” He twisted, legs kicking up small flurries of dust. “I’ll g-get you back! I swear!”

Apollo just laughed, finally relenting and pulling his hands away. Hermes collapsed back into the grass, wings splayed out, his chest heaving with breathless giggles. Apollo stretched out beside him, resting his hands behind his head. “I’ll be waiting,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t just reduced his brother to a giggling, flailing mess.

Hermes gasped, brushing the hair from his face, wings twitching against the ground. “I’m…I’m gonna tell Tiresias you’re mean,” he huffed between breaths, voice still shaking with lingering giggles.

Apollo just smirked. “Oh, I’m sure they’d be devastated to hear about it.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “But until then, I think I’ll enjoy this victory.”

Hermes just laughed, his wings stretching out before curling back in. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, a smile lingering on his lips.

Apollo grinned. “That’s why you love me.”

Hermes rolled his eyes. “I guess I do.”

They lay there for a moment longer, catching their breath, the sky bright and boundless above them. Hermes' wings twitched occasionally, catching the sunlight.

Finally, Hermes sat up, dusting himself off. “Come on, I want to see if I still remember how to skip a stone eight times.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Eight? You only ever got seven, and that was with a running start.”

Hermes grinned, wings flaring out in defiance. “Well, it’s been a while. Maybe I’ve improved.” He bounced to his feet, offering a hand to Apollo. “Come on. I want to prove you wrong.”

Apollo took his hand, letting Hermes pull him to his feet. “You’re on, little brother,” he replied, slinging an arm around Hermes' shoulders. “But don’t cry when I win.”

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and unburdened. “We’ll see about that.”

Together, they walked toward the stream, the weight of Zeus’s fury left behind in the grass, buried deep where neither of them would touch it, at least, not for now.

~~~

“I told you I was good!” Hermes declared, wings fluttering with pride as he flopped back onto the soft grass, his grin stretching wide and smug.

Apollo shook his head, running a hand through his golden curls, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “I still don’t know how you got eight, eight, in a row,” he huffed, flopping down next to Hermes with a dramatic sigh. “Are you sure you didn’t cheat?”

Hermes scoffed, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Me? Cheat? Perish the thought!” He fluttered his wings, feigning innocence as he stretched out beside Apollo. “I’m just that good.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, nudging Hermes with his elbow. “You’ve been that good at every game of this we’ve ever played,” he groaned. “I don’t know why I still try.”

Hermes beamed, the sunlight catching his wings, making them shimmer with that ethereal glow. “Because you love me,” he said simply, his grin softening into something genuine. “And you like losing to me.”

Apollo barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “That is definitely not true.” He turned onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he regarded Hermes with a grin. “But I do love you. And I suppose I don’t mind losing to you...sometimes.”

Hermes' wings flickered with delight, and he rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky, the light filtering through the leaves and dappling his face. “It’s good to be here with you,” he murmured, voice softening. “I missed this.”

Apollo’s smile softened, and he nudged Hermes' shoulder gently. “I missed this too,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper.

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the grass where Apollo and Hermes lay side by side.

“I wish things weren’t as complicated as they are. Everything is a lot right now.” Hermes murmured. Apollo shrugged.

“Life is always complicated. But us? Right now? It’s not. You’re my baby brother. Nothing will ever change that.” He reassured. Hermes sat up, looking away.

“Are we even still brothers?” He whispered, scared of the answer. Apollo gasped and sat up.

“Hermes! What could you possibly mean? Of course we’re still brothers. What on all of Olympus could make you think otherwise?” He asked, genuine shock and concern filling his voice.

Hermes hesitated, and Apollo’s hand gently turned his head to face him. His brother’s eyes weren’t filled with anger, there wasn’t a trace. Only concern and soft, gentle, love.

“Polly,” he whispered. Apollo’s eyes softened.

“Come here, baby brother,” Apollo murmured, pulling Hermes into his arms. “I will always, and I mean always be your brother.”

“But Father, he said,” Hermes shuddered, remembering, “he said he’s not my father anymore. That makes us not brothers. If he’s not–”

“Hermes,” Apollo cut him off, tightening his hold. “Nothing he could say would stop me from being your big brother. Not even a direct command. I wouldn’t listen. You are my family and you will never stop being so. Okay?” He said. Hermes nodded.

“I love you, Polly.” Apollo gently pulled back, looking Hermes in the eye.

“And I love you. Don’t ever think I don’t. No matter what you hear, from anyone, I will always love you.” Hermes smiled and nodded.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Apollo smiled.

“Of course. Now, come on. It’ll be dark soon, and Tiresias is waiting. Let's get you home.” Apollo gently stood, pulling Hermes up with him. Hermes took a few deep breaths, and the two headed back to the Underworld’s entrance.

They continued walking, the breeze gentle against their faces, carrying the scent of wildflowers with it. Hermes’ wings flared just slightly, his steps slowing as his eyes caught the splashes of color among the grass. He stopped suddenly, crouching down to inspect a patch of vibrant blooms. Apollo halted beside him.

“What are you doing?” Apollo asked, eyebrows raised as Hermes began plucking the flowers one by one, careful not to crush the petals.

Hermes glanced up, his grin softening. “I’m getting flowers for Tiresias,” he replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Apollo blinked, his expression softening. “Flowers, huh?” He crouched down beside Hermes. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

Hermes glanced up, his grin softening. “I always bring them flowers,” he replied simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “They’re soft and smell nice. Tiresias deserves nice things like that.” His hands worked quickly, fingers brushing over petals with a tenderness that belied his usual frantic energy.

Apollo watched him for a moment, his expression turning wistful. “You really love them, huh?”

Hermes paused, his hands stilling over a particularly bright bloom. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I really do.” He glanced up, meeting Apollo’s gaze with a flicker of something soft and vulnerable. “They make everything feel real. Like I’m more than just an exile.”

Apollo’s hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’ve always been more than that,” he replied, his voice steady. “You always will be. Despite what Father says.” His tone grew firm, resolute, as though the words themselves were a promise. “You are still Hermes.”

Hermes offered him a small smile before turning back to his task, hands moving more confidently now, gathering flowers of every color. His wings flared occasionally, catching the breeze as he worked. Apollo sat back, watching with a bemused expression, eyes glimmering with fondness.

“You’ve got enough to start your own garden, you know,” Apollo quipped, gesturing to the growing bouquet.

Hermes huffed, brushing back his hair with one hand. “It’s not enough yet,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It has to be perfect.”

“Perfect, huh?” Apollo watched Hermes’ wings twitch and flutter as he moved from patch to patch. “I think Tiresias is gonna be happy with whatever you bring.”

Hermes didn’t answer right away, hands still busy plucking flowers, fingers gentle as they curled around the stems. Finally, he straightened, cradling the bouquet in his hands, wings flaring proudly. “Now it’s perfect,” he declared, turning to Apollo with a triumphant grin.

Apollo chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. “You happy with it, flower boy?”

Hermes stuck out his tongue. “I am. And Tiresias will be too.”

Apollo clapped him on the back, a grin spreading across his face. “Well then, we'd better get back before the sun sets completely. Wouldn’t want you getting lost out here with your pretty little bouquet.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t falter. “I can find my way back just fine, thank you very much.”

Apollo started walking, and Hermes followed, his wings fluttering with a lightness that had been missing for far too long. He cradled the flowers close, careful not to crush the petals, his gaze flickering down to admire the colors every so often.

As they walked, Apollo leaned over conspiratorially. “You know,” he whispered, voice dripping with mock seriousness, “if you had picked any more, I was gonna start calling you Persephone.”

Hermes snorted, elbowing him in the ribs. “Oh, please. As if I could ever make a bouquet as beautiful as any of hers,” he teased, wings flaring just slightly.

Apollo laughed, and for a moment, the weight of the world melted away, leaving only two brothers, the scent of wildflowers, and the fading sunlight guiding them home.

Notes:

EEEEK! I'm so excited to have shared this with you all. I really hope you loved it as much as I did.

As always, take care of yourselves my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 31

Summary:

Returning to the Underworld. To Tiresias. Emotions and softness.

When Hermes and Apollo returned to the Underworld, the shadows greeted them with familiar whispers, curling around their feet like old friends. The temperature dropped, and the chill of the realm hugged them as they walked back to Tiresias and Hermes’ cave. 

Tiresias was waiting for them, standing near the entrance with his staff in hand, head tilted slightly as if listening for their footsteps. A smile spread across their face the moment they heard Hermes’ wings brush against the stone. “Welcome back,” they greeted warmly, voice light and soft.

Hermes' wings flared, and he stepped forward with his usual cheer. “Starlight! Look!” He pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind his back, extending it out towards Tiresias with a flourish. “For you.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, their hand reaching out, fingertips brushing the petals gently. “You always bring me flowers,” he murmured, voice laced with affection. His hands ran carefully over each bloom, tracing the delicate shapes and feeling the soft petals under his touch. “I love them. They smell beautiful.” His fingers brushed over a particularly large blossom, pausing for a moment. “A sunflower?”

Hermes beamed. “It is! I found it growing near a whole patch of them. I thought it might look nice next to the ones you’ve been drying.”

Tiresias’s smile softened, their hand brushing over Hermes’ cheek. “You always think of me,” they whispered. “Thank you, my sweet Hermes.”

Hermes grinned, wings fluttering. “Always,” he promised, his voice light and carefree. But Apollo, watching from a few steps back, saw the slight tension in Hermes' shoulders, the way his wings stiffened just a fraction when Tiresias pulled him into an embrace. It was subtle, so subtle that Tiresias likely didn’t notice. But Apollo, who had grown up with Hermes and spent millennia learning his tells, did.

Hermes pulled back from the hug first, his smile wide and bright. “I’m going to, uh, I’ll go put these in water!” he said, his voice just a bit too loud, too enthusiastic. “I’ll be right back!” Before Tiresias could respond, Hermes gently grabbed the flowers back and disappeared down one of the side tunnels, the bouquet now clutched in his hands.

Tiresias tilted his head. “He’s…energetic today.”

Apollo hesitated, his gaze lingering on the path Hermes had taken. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “That he is.”

Tiresias’s brow furrowed, and he turned his head back toward Apollo. “What happened?” he asked quietly, voice laced with concern. “I can feel the tension. It’s like a shadow clinging to you both.”

Apollo was silent for a moment, then he stepped forward, his hand coming to rest on Tiresias’s shoulder. “He probably doesn’t want me to tell you,” Apollo began, his voice low and measured. “But I think you need to know.”

Tiresias’s grip on his staff tightened just slightly. “What happened?” he repeated, voice firmer.

Apollo exhaled slowly. “Zeus found us. Confronted us in the mortal realm.” His tone was soft, almost gentle. “He was angry. More than I’ve seen him in a long time.” He hesitated. “He tried to pull me away from Hermes. Said I was consorting with ‘the exile.’” His voice dropped on the last two words, laced with disgust.

Tiresias’s hand tightened on his staff, knuckles turning white. “Did he hurt him?” They asked, voice sharp and laced with a tremor of fear.

“No,” Apollo reassured quickly. “Hades showed up in time.” A small smile ghosted across his face. “And you know how Hades is. He wasn’t about to let Zeus hurt either of us. It was…honestly, it was incredible. But,” he hesitated, glancing back down the hallway where Hermes had disappeared. “Hermes is trying to handle it on his own. Like always. He’s pretending everything is fine.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, a whisper of sadness crossing his features. “Of course he is,” they murmured. “That stubborn little god.”

Apollo’s hand squeezed their shoulder gently. “He’s probably trying to internalize it all. Doesn’t want to bug anyone or ruin the mood. You know how he is. But Zeus said a lot of hurtful things this time, and I know he’s hurting. Please, I know he’ll open up to you.” Apollo’s voice cracked just slightly, revealing his own anxiety. “He needs you, Tiresias.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, their hands reaching out gently and pulling the god into an embrace. “I know,” they whispered, voice trembling with tenderness. “I’ll find him. But don’t forget about yourself, Apollo. You deserve care just as much as he does.” Then they straightened, turning in the direction Hermes had gone. “Thank you, Apollo.”

Apollo stepped back, hands slipping into his pockets. “Actually,” he began, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “I need to get back to my duties. But can you tell Hermes goodbye for me? And tell him I had a wonderful time today. I’ll try to come back as soon as I can.” His voice cracked just slightly, but he held it together.

Tiresias nodded, a soft smile gracing their lips. “I’ll tell him.”

Apollo lingered for just a moment longer, eyes flickering back down the hallway where Hermes had disappeared. “Take care of him,” he whispered. “Please.”

Tiresias smiled gently. “Always.”

With a final nod, Apollo turned, his form flickering with light before he vanished, leaving only the faintest trace of sunlight in his wake.

Tiresias waited until the warmth of Apollo’s presence faded entirely before turning back toward the tunnels. His footsteps were soft, careful, listening for the slightest hint of Hermes’ presence. He paused at the edge of the tunnel, listening intently.

And then they heard it.

It was faint, barely audible, but unmistakable. The soft, muffled sound of crying. Tiresias’s heart clenched, and they moved forward, following the sound down a winding path until they reached a small alcove, tucked away from the main chamber. Hermes was there, curled up with the bouquet of flowers still clutched to his chest, shoulders shaking with the weight of his grief. His knees were drawn to his chest, wings pressed tightly against his ankles. The small feathers quivered with each ragged breath he took.

“Sweet one?” Tiresias called gently, his voice soft and unassuming, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment. He stepped forward, his staff tapping lightly against the stone as he approached. “Hermes, may I join you?”

There was a long pause, a soft sniffle, then the faintest whisper of, “Y-yeah.”

Tiresias lowered himself carefully beside Hermes, settling down against the cool stone. He reached out, not quite touching, but close enough for Hermes to feel the presence, the invitation. “Would you like to come back with me? The fire is warmer.” His voice was impossibly gentle.

Hermes hesitated, wings twitching slightly. He glanced up, eyes red-rimmed and shining with fresh tears. “I just. I didn’t want to bring it back here,” he whispered. “I wanted it to stay outside. I wanted it to stay there.” His head wings fluttered, brushing the stone wall behind him. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Tiresias smiled softly, reaching out to gently cup Hermes’ cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I’m never bothered by you, Hermes. Not once.” His hand dropped, settling over Hermes’. “Come with me?”

Hermes bit his lip, wings fluttering nervously, but after a moment, he agreed. Tiresias stood first, extending a hand down to him. Hermes took it without hesitation, fingers curling tightly around Tiresias’s own. His wings shivered slightly as he stood, feathers still trembling, but he let himself be led back to the main room.

The familiar scent of their blanket nest, soft and earthy, like fresh moss and firewood, enveloped him as they entered. Tiresias guided him down, easing him back into the cushions and blankets. Hermes reached for the pillow he loved most, the one that still held the faintest scent of lavender and thyme, earthy and warm, and buried his face in it, crying, his wings curled against his ankles protectively.

Tiresias settled beside him, his hand moving gently to brush through Hermes' hair. He didn’t speak, not at first, just let the silence breathe between them, offering comfort without intrusion.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Their voice was soft, gentle, an invitation rather than a command.

Hermes’ wings shivered. “He...he found us,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “Zeus. He found me and Apollo.” His hands shook harder, and Tiresias’s hand pressed just a bit firmer against his back, steadying him.

“It’s alright,” Tiresias murmured. “I’m right here. You’re safe, Hermes.”

Hermes nodded shakily, taking a breath. “He was so angry. He…he just called me ‘him’ the whole time. Not my name. Just him.” He swallowed thickly, the memory clawing up his throat. “I had to bow. I-I wasn’t going to, but I remembered I’m not…I’m not a god anymore. I’m not one of them. I’m just an exile.”

Tiresias’s hand moved up to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You are still you, Hermes. That never changed.”

Hermes shuddered, curling tighter into the blankets. “He said…he said I wasn’t his son. Not anymore.” His voice cracked, and the tears came again, spilling over and dripping down his cheeks. “He said I wasn’t, and I just, I had to stand there and listen. I just bowed my head and said ‘Yes, Lord Zeus,’ like I always do. Like, I’m still his son. But I’m not. He said I wasn’t.” His breath hitched, wings fluttering weakly. “And I-I thought for a second he’d take Maia too. He said I wasn’t his or my mother’s. And I just,” his voice cracked, and the sob finally broke free, raw and aching.

“Oh, Hermes…” Tiresias murmured, his hand continuing its gentle sweep through Hermes' hair. “I’m so sorry.” He shifted closer, offering his presence as an anchor. “You were so brave, my dear. Apollo told me what you said.” His voice was filled with pride. “You stood up to him. You were strong.”

Hermes shook his head, his voice muffled against the fabric. “I wasn’t. I was scared. I-I bowed. I did everything he wanted. I didn’t fight back. I just…I just stood there.” His shoulders shook, wings shivering against his ankles.

Tiresias’s hand moved to his cheek, gently turning Hermes’ face towards him. “You did what you had to do to survive. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.” His voice was firm, unyielding. “You were brave to speak at all. To stand in front of him, that takes more courage than you know.”

Hermes sniffled, eyes red and shining. “But he…he said I wasn’t his son. Twice. And I think…I think he meant it.” His voice cracked, wings twitching against his calves. “What if he takes my mother too? What if I’m… what if I’m all alone?” The last words were barely a whisper, fragile and desperate.

Tiresias’s heart broke at the sound. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Hermes, holding him tightly. “You’re not alone, Hermes,” he whispered fiercely. “You will never be alone. I swear it.” His hand brushed softly against Hermes' head wings, soothing the trembling feathers. “You have me. You always will.”

“I’m not his son anymore,” he whispered brokenly. “He doesn’t want me.”

Tiresias pulled him tighter, their own eyes glimmering with tears. “Then he’s a fool,” they whispered fiercely. “Because I want you. I always will.”

Hermes' hands clutched at Tiresias’s robes, his wings fluttering as he buried his face against the prophet’s shoulder. For a long while, neither of them spoke; the crackling fire was the only sound in the quiet cave.

Finally, Tiresias leaned back just slightly, cupping Hermes' face in his hands. “You are so much stronger than you think,” he whispered, his voice filled with reverence. “And you are loved. Do you hear me? You are loved.”

Hermes shuddered. “I was scared,” he admitted. “I-I was so scared.”

“I know, sweet bird. But you were brave. So brave.” They brushed their thumb over Hermes' cheek, wiping away a tear. “And I am so proud of you.”

Tiresias’s hands remained gentle, tracing soft circles along Hermes' back. Hermes continued to shudder, the tension still held tight in his frame, though his breathing had begun to slow, if only slightly.

“There you are,” Tiresias whispered, his voice low and steady. “I’ve got you, love. You’re here. You’re safe.” His hands moved rhythmically, grounding Hermes in the present, reminding him that he was far from Olympus, far from Zeus’s wrath, nestled instead in the warmth of the Underworld, wrapped in warmth and safety.

Hermes sniffed, his fingers clinging tightly to Tiresias’s robes, knuckles pale with the force of his grip. He didn’t speak, couldn’t bring himself to just yet. His breaths came in soft, uneven tremors, but Tiresias’s hold never wavered.

“You don’t have to say anything yet,” Tiresias murmured, voice a gentle hum. “Just breathe with me.” He took an exaggerated breath, slow and steady, the sound deliberate and coaxing. Hermes tried to follow, his breath stuttering at first, but then catching, falling into rhythm with the prophet’s gentle guidance.

“There we are,” Tiresias whispered, their hand brushing up to cradle Hermes' head, fingers threading through his curls with feather-light touches. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m right here.”

Hermes sucked in another breath, the tremor still lingering, but it was softer now, less sharp around the edges. “I-I thought he was going to…” His voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Tiresias’s grip tightened just slightly, firm and protective. “He didn’t,” they replied simply. “He didn’t because you’re here. You’re with me. And I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hermes nodded against his shoulder, his wings fluttering with the faintest tremor. “He said,” Another shuddering breath. “He said I wasn’t his anymore,” he choked out, voice cracking on the words.

Tiresias stilled, his hands cradling Hermes' face as he gently pulled back, just enough to tilt Hermes' head up toward him. He couldn’t see Hermes' eyes, but he could feel the tremor in his shoulders, the way his breath hitched, the flutter of his wings that spoke of so much pain. “Hermes,” Tiresias murmured, his voice tender and unyielding. “You are not defined by him.”

Hermes' breath shuddered, his hands gripping tighter. “But I–” He shuddered. “What if he cuts me off from Maia? What if she thinks the same as he does?” His voice cracked, splintering with fear.

Tiresias’s expression softened, and his hands brushed over Hermes' cheeks, thumbs tracing gentle arcs. “Listen to me,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You are loved, Hermes. By me. By Apollo. By your mother. I do not believe for one moment that she would ever turn away from you. You are hers as much as you are mine. And Zeus has no power over that.”

Hermes hiccuped, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks. “But he’s the King. He can do anything.” His wings curled tighter, trembling against his calves.

Tiresias pulled him close, their hand smoothing down the back of Hermes' head, fingers grazing the tiny wings on his head with delicate care. “He is the king, yes. But even kings have limits. And love,” Tiresias’s voice dipped, soft and tender. “Love does not break so easily.”

Hermes clutched tighter, fingers digging into Tiresias’s robes. “He was so…he was so angry,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I-I was so scared.”

Tiresias held him tighter, the motion protective and grounding. “I know,” they whispered back. “I know, my heart. But you were brave. You stood your ground. You spoke your truth. I could not be prouder of you.”

Hermes shuddered, his wings trembling but no longer curling in on themselves. “I-I don’t feel brave.”

Tiresias leaned back just enough to brush a kiss against Hermes' forehead. “You are,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “Bravery isn’t the absence of fear. It’s standing firm despite it. And you did that today. You stood firm.”

Hermes' breath hitched, another tear slipping free. “I just wanted to help Apollo.”

“And you did,” Tiresias replied, his hands gentle and soothing. 

Hermes crumpled back into Tiresias’s embrace, arms wrapping tight around him, wings fluttering weakly but steadily. He buried his face into Tiresias’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of thyme and earth, grounding himself in the warmth of his presence. Tiresias held him without hesitation, fingers running slow, rhythmic patterns down his back, each touch careful and calming.

Hermes burrowed deeper into Tiresias’s hold, the prophet’s arms steady and unyielding around him. Tiresias’s fingers traced gentle circles against his back, grounding him, tethering him to something safe and real. But still, Hermes shook, his wings trembling against his calves, his breath coming out in ragged gasps.

Tiresias’s hand moved to brush through Hermes' hair, his voice a steady murmur. “You’re safe here, Hermes. You’re safe with me. I promise you.”

Hermes only shook his head, hands fisting into the fabric of Tiresias’s robes. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t understand what he can do.”

Tiresias’s brow furrowed, his hand never ceasing its gentle motion through Hermes' curls. “He’s not here, Hermes. He’s not here, and you are under Hades’ protection. He cannot touch you.”

Hermes sucked in a sharp breath, a broken laugh slipping out, jagged and desperate. “I-I know. I know that. But–but what if he–” He pulled back slightly, enough to look up at Tiresias with eyes that shimmered with a fear too deep to hide. “What if he stops me from coming back? What if he takes you away from me?” His wings flared slightly, shaking with the tremor of his words. “He said I wasn’t his son anymore, a–and then he said that I wasn’t hers either.” His voice cracked on the last word, a fresh wave of tears welling up. “I thought he was going to take Maia away, too. And if he does that, what’s stopping him from taking you away next?” He cried.

Tiresias’s heart clenched, his hands cupping Hermes' face with a tenderness that was almost reverent. “Hermes,” he whispered, voice firm but impossibly gentle. “Listen to me.” He brushed his thumbs over Hermes' cheeks, catching the tears that had begun to fall. “No one, no one, can take you from me. Do you hear me?” His voice trembled with conviction. “I will not let him. Not Hades, not Zeus, not anyone. You are mine as I am yours. And nothing will change that.”

Hermes' eyes shimmered, his wings fluttering with a desperate sort of hope. “But…but what if –”

“There is no ‘what if,’” Tiresias cut in gently, leaning forward until their foreheads pressed together. “There is only now. Right now, you are here, with me. Right now, you are safe, and you are loved.” He took a breath, steadying his own voice. “You always have a place here, Hermes. You are mine, just as I am yours. And I won’t let anyone take that from us. Not even a god.”

Hermes' breath shuddered, a sob escaping despite his best efforts to hold it back. “You promise?” he whispered, voice cracking with the weight of it. “You won’t let him take me away? You won’t let him take you?”

Tiresias’s hands slid to cradle the back of Hermes' head, fingers threading gently through his hair. “I promise,” he murmured, voice steady and unyielding. “I won’t let him take you from me. Not now. Not ever.”

A sob broke free from Hermes' chest, and he clung to Tiresias, wings flaring just slightly before curling back around his legs. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, voice muffled against Tiresias’s robes. “Not after everything. I-I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Tiresias soothed, his voice a soft balm to the jagged wound of Hermes' fear. “You won’t lose me. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” They leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to Hermes' temple. “You are mine, and I am yours.”

Hermes melted into the embrace, the last of his resolve crumbling as the weight of the day crashed over him. He cried softly against Tiresias’s chest, the prophet holding him steady, hands never ceasing their gentle caress over his wings and through his hair. There, wrapped in Tiresias’s arms, Hermes finally let the fear pour out, unwound and unraveled, knowing that here, he was safe. 

Tiresias sat propped against the cushions, his legs stretched out, with Hermes curled up against his chest. The messenger’s breathing was uneven, his face pressed into the hollow of Tiresias’s shoulder. His hands were fisted in Tiresias’s tunic, holding tight as if afraid to let go. His wings trembled occasionally, the delicate feathers brushing against Tiresias’s neck, restless even in his exhaustion.

Tiresias hummed softly, a low, soothing melody, his fingers threading gently through Hermes' curls. “It’s alright,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Hermes shuddered, a soft, choked sound escaping him. Tiresias tightened his hold just slightly, enough to remind Hermes that he wasn’t alone. “It’s okay, sweet bird,” he murmured. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Let it out.”

Hermes buried his face deeper into Tiresias’s shoulder, his wings curling inward, folding tightly against his legs. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice muffled and trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I just…”

Tiresias brushed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “Shh,” they soothed. “You don’t have to apologize, Hermes. Not to me. Not ever.”

Hermes shook his head, his hands still gripping Tiresias’s tunic with desperate strength. “I just wanted to be brave,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I tried. I really tried.”

Tiresias’s heart ached, and he moved his hand to cup the back of Hermes' head, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles. “You were brave,” they murmured, their voice filled with quiet conviction. “You were so brave, my love. You stood up to him. You faced him without backing down. You protected your brother.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, the feathers brushing softly against Tiresias’s arm. “But I was so scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I was terrified, Starlight. I-I thought he’d hurt Apollo. I thought he’d hurt me. I thought I’d lose you.”

Hermes finally let out the breath he had been holding, a soft, shivering exhale. His grip on Tiresias’s robes loosened, his hands slipping to rest against the prophet’s chest, fingers tracing small, shaky patterns. “I just… I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered, voice soft and aching. “Not you.”

Tiresias’s hand continued its slow, gentle rhythm through Hermes' curls, grounding him. “You’re not going to lose me,” he repeated softly. “Not now. Not ever. You’re safe, my love.”

Hermes' wings shifted, finally settling, the tension slipping from his shoulders. He pressed closer, his breath evening out, the tremors slowly fading. Tiresias felt the shift, the way Hermes' weight seemed to sink more fully into him, exhaustion finally overtaking the fear.

“There you go,” Tiresias murmured, his hand moving to brush along Hermes' back, tracing the line of his spine. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

Hermes made a soft, sleepy sound, his eyes finally slipping closed. Tiresias could still feel the occasional shudder, the remnants of the fear that had gripped him so tightly. He pressed another kiss to Hermes' temple, his own breathing slowing to match the rhythm of the messenger’s.

“I’m here,” Tiresias whispered, his voice a soft, steady hum. “I’m right here. Just rest, love.”

Hermes' fingers curled gently into Tiresias’s robes, his wings folding into a more relaxed position against his calves, the tension finally fading from his body. His breathing evened out, deep and slow, the last of his sobs fading into quiet, steady breaths.

Tiresias stayed awake, his hands never stilling, his heart aching for the god in his arms. He watched as Hermes finally slipped into sleep, the fear melting away, leaving only the quiet, fragile peace that came with safety.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered one last time, voice like a lullaby. “Sleep, my Hermes. You’re safe now.”

Notes:

Okay okay okay. I forgot to upload on Friday. Oops. Ummmmm. I'll upload again in like an hour to make up for it. Oops. heheheh.

Hope you liked the chapter though!

Take care of yourselves my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 32

Summary:

Nightmare…and comfort! But yeah. Nightmare.

Darkness stretched endlessly around him, cold and suffocating. Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering restlessly as he looked around. The air was thick, heavy, like a storm on the verge of breaking. He called out, but his voice fell flat, swallowed by the void.

Then, suddenly, a figure appeared in the distance, tall, imposing, thunder crackling at his heels. Zeus. Hermes’ heart leapt, relief flooding him; he could still change the god king’s mind, be welcomed back to the family.

“Father!” he cried, stumbling forward. “Father, wait!”

Zeus turned, his face a cold, unyielding mask. “You are no son of mine,” he declared, voice booming like thunder.

“No,” Hermes whispered, reaching out. “Please, I–”

But Zeus turned away, robes billowing, and vanished into the shadows.

Hermes stood there, breath hitching, before he caught a glimpse of soft golden light. He turned, and there she was. Maia, his mother. She was humming softly, weaving flowers into a wreath. The smell of spring surrounded her, lilac and honeysuckle, soft and gentle.

“Mother!” Hermes called, his wings fluttering in relief. “Mother, please!” He ran toward her, nearly tripping over his own feet in desperation. “Mother, I’m here!”

Maia didn’t look at him. She kept weaving, her hands moving slowly, deliberately, like she was caught in a trance. Her eyes were distant, unseeing, focused entirely on the flowers in her lap. Desperation clawed at his throat. He reached out, trying to touch her shoulder, but his hand passed through her like smoke.

“Mother, please look at me!” Hermes cried, voice cracking. He circled around, dropping to his knees in front of her, reaching up, his hands hovering near her face, trembling. “Please, say something. I’m right here. I’m here.”

Maia paused, tilting her head slightly, her expression calm and untroubled. She smiled softly, not at him, but at the flowers. “I have no son,” she whispered, and the flowers fell from her hands, crumbling to dust at her feet. She picked up another bloom, not even glancing at him as she resumed her weaving, petals falling through her fingers and disintegrating before they could touch the ground.

“No! No, please!” Hermes begged, his hands grasping at the fallen petals, but they turned to dust in his palms. His wings flared out, feathers bristling. “Please, I’m right here!” He looked up, but Maia was gone, the scent of flowers vanishing with her. “Mother!” He cried, voice cracking.

His breath came faster, chest heaving. He turned wildly, searching the darkness. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to see Apollo, his face soft and familiar. Relief flooded Hermes’ chest, tears welling in his eyes.

“Polly! Please, I need–”

But Apollo pulled away, his face hardening. “I can’t be seen with you,” he whispered, voice cold and resolute.

Hermes’ hands trembled, reaching out. “No, don’t go. Please.”

Apollo’s expression grew colder, and he took a step back. “You don’t belong with us anymore,” he said, his tone flat, detached. “You’ve been cast out. I can’t be seen with a disgrace.”

Hermes staggered back, wings trembling. “No. You–you don’t mean that.” He moved forward, his hand reaching out, but Apollo’s face hardened further, the sunlight around him growing harsher, blinding.

“It’s the truth, Hermes. We can’t have you around. I can’t have you around.” Apollo’s light flickered, and he turned, his form dissolving into the sunlight, leaving Hermes alone in the shadows.

“Wait! Apollo, wait!” Hermes stumbled forward, his wings flaring wildly, desperate to catch even a glimpse of his brother. But there was nothing. Just darkness, creeping in closer, clawing at his ankles like tendrils of smoke.

His breath came in ragged gasps, and he staggered back, only to bump into something firm. He spun around, and there she was. Athena, eyes sharp and unyielding, her armor gleaming with celestial light. Relief surged through him. “Athena!” he cried, his wings flaring with desperate hope. “You can help me. Please, I don’t know what’s happening. Everyone’s leaving. I-I don’t know why.”

Athena looked him up and down, her gaze cold and calculating. “It’s because you don’t belong with us anymore,” she said simply, her tone flat, almost mechanical. “You’re no longer one of us, Hermes. Why would you expect us to stay?”

Hermes’ wings fluttered in distress. “But...but I am! I’m still me! I’m still your friend! I’m still your–”

“Not anymore,” Athena interrupted, her voice clipped and final. “You are nothing but a memory now.” She turned, her armor gleaming one last time before she stepped forward and vanished into the mist, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Hermes stumbled forward, his breathing uneven, his wings shaking. “No...no, please. Athena! Thethe, come back!” But his voice echoed back to him, hollow and empty.

The air grew heavier, thick with mist that clung to Hermes' skin and chilled him to the bone. His wings drooped, the feathers dampening with the weight of the fog. He took a step forward, feet dragging against the ground. Shadows crept in from all directions, crawling like snakes across the floor, whispering his name in hushed, mocking tones.

Hermes…the exile…the fallen god…

He stumbled forward, the mists parting to reveal towering iron gates, twisted and lined with black ivy. Beyond them, fields stretched out, shrouded in ghostly light. The River Styx flowed lazily at the edge of the horizon, its waters dark and hissing.

Hermes knew this place. He had walked these fields. He had carried souls across these rivers. He stepped forward, relief flooding his chest. “Hades!” he called out, his wings flaring with desperate hope. “Uncle Hades! Are you here?”

There was a pause, the silence stretching thin, taut as a thread. And then, the shadows shifted, parting slowly to reveal Hades, standing tall and regal, his eyes dark as polished onyx. His expression was neutral, unreadable, as if carved from stone.

“Uncle!” Hermes ran to him, wings fluttering. “Please, I-I need help. Zeus, and Maia, and …” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t know where they went. They wouldn’t,” his voice broke. “They wouldn’t even look at me.”

Hades watched him with an inscrutable gaze, unmoving. “You shouldn’t be here, Hermes,” he said finally, his voice a low rumble that shook the mist.

Hermes’ wings shivered, feathers bristling. “W-what?”

“You do not belong here,” Hades continued, his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes flickered with something cold, distant. “You are not one of mine nor my realm. You have no place here.”

Hermes’ heart clenched painfully. “What do you mean?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I…y-you said I was welcome here. You promised!”

“That was a mistake.” Hades’ expression didn’t change, his tone smooth and unyielding. “You were never meant to stay.”

Hermes took a step back, his wings flaring defensively. “But, I don’t understand. I thought I…” His breath hitched. “I thought I belonged here.”

Hades’ gaze turned colder, frost creeping across the iron gates, whispering against the ivy. “You belong nowhere,” he replied, his tone final and unforgiving. “Not on Olympus. Not here. You are nothing, Hermes. A god without a purpose.”

“No,” Hermes whispered, his wings trembling. “No, that’s not…That’s not true. I’m still…I’m still–”

“You are nothing.” Hades’ voice was a low snarl, his eyes like the depths of the river, endless and unforgiving. “A shadow that clings to the edges, unwanted and unwelcome.”

The mist swirled around Hermes’ feet, binding him, pulling him back. His wings flapped desperately, feathers scattering like ashes in the wind. “No! Please, I-I belong somewhere! I do! I have friends, I have family!”

Hades watched him with that same distant expression. “Not anymore,” he whispered, and the gates creaked shut with a terrible, echoing clang.

Hermes stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts. The mist wrapped around him, seeping into his wings, pulling him down, down, down.

And then he was somewhere else.

Cold stone stretched out beneath his feet, smooth and polished. Torches flickered against the walls, casting long, eerie shadows. Hermes’ wings flared, feathers bristling. The room was wide and open, stone arches stretching high above, draped in crimson banners.

“Where?” he whispered, taking a step forward. The sound of his footsteps echoed hollowly in the space.

“Hermes.”

The voice sent a shock of relief through his veins. He turned, his wings flaring wide. “Odysseus!”

There, at the far end of the hall, Odysseus stood, tall and strong, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Penelope stood beside him, her hands folded neatly, her expression serene. Telemachus lingered just behind, his face young and hopeful. Relief crashed through Hermes like a wave. “Thank the Gods you’re here. You’re still here,” he whispered, stumbling forward. “You didn’t leave.”

Odysseus’ eyes flickered with something cold, and he took a step back. Hermes paused, confusion flaring. “Wait, what’s wrong?”

Penelope’s gaze drifted over him, unblinking and detached. “You don’t belong here, Hermes.”

Hermes’ wings twitched. “What? No, I-I helped you! I got you home, I-I protected you. You said,” his voice trailed off to a whisper, “you said I was family.”

Odysseus shook his head, his eyes hard. “That was before.”

“Before?” Hermes took another step forward, but the air between them shimmered like a mirage, pushing him back. “Before what?”

“Before you were denounced.” Odysseus’ voice was sharp, each word a knife. “You are not one of us. Not anymore.”

Penelope nodded, her eyes drifting away, unfocused. “We cannot be seen with you. You’re tainted.”

Hermes staggered back, his wings flaring out wide, shaking with disbelief. “No…No! That’s not…I’m still me! I’m still–” He turned desperately to Telemachus, his eyes pleading. “Telemachus, please. You know me. We trained together. We spent time together!”

But Telemachus wouldn’t look at him. His gaze stayed fixed on the stone floor, his hands clenched at his sides. “I’m sorry, Hermes,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “You’re not welcome here. Not anymore.”

Hermes felt something shatter inside his chest, sharp and splintered. “No…please, no,” he whispered, his wings curling around his calves protectively. “I-I’m still your friend. I’m still–”

Odysseus’ expression didn’t waver. “You were a god. You’re not anymore.”

Penelope’s gaze turned sharp, cold. “You should leave.”

Hermes took another step back, his wings drooping, the feathers ragged and shaking. “But… but I helped you.” His voice broke, trembling with desperation. “I helped you get home. I-I tried so hard.”

The door behind them swung shut with a hollow thud, and they were gone, the room empty and echoing. Hermes was left standing alone, shadows creeping along the walls, stretching toward him like hands reaching from the dark.

He stumbled back, breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps, his wings flaring and fluttering, desperate to keep him aloft. But the shadows caught him, dragging him down, his feathers scattering like ash.

His knees hit the ground, hard and unforgiving. He knelt there, breathless, wings dragging against the cold stone. “No…” he whispered, his voice cracking, breaking. “Please, I didn’t mean to fall. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to.”

The darkness pressed in, suffocating, pulling him under. Hermes gasped, his wings flapping uselessly against the shadows. “Please, I don’t want to be alone.”

There was no answer. Only silence. The silence stretched out, thick and suffocating, until Hermes could barely breathe. Shadows curled around his ankles, whispering in voices he couldn’t understand, their words slithering through his ears like echoes of betrayal. His wings drooped, feathers scattering like ashes on the stone floor. He didn’t move, couldn’t move, as the darkness pressed in tighter, colder.

“Starlight,” he whispered, the word falling from his lips like a prayer. “Tiresias, please.”

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the heavy weight of silence and the mist clawing at his feet. But then, a flicker of light appeared in the distance, faint and glimmering. It grew brighter, a soft, warm glow that cut through the darkness. Hermes staggered to his feet, wings flaring with desperate hope, feathers shaking loose.

“Tiresias!” he cried, stumbling forward. His legs felt heavy, like iron chains bound him to the floor, but he pushed through, dragging his wings behind him, the small appendages having no strength to move. “Starlight! You’re here…you’re still here!”

Tiresias stood beneath a twisted archway of black ivy, their staff in hand, the soft glow of prophecy shimmering around them. Their eyes were closed, head tilted slightly, like they were listening to something only they could hear. Hermes reached out, his hands shaking, his wings trembling.

“Starlight, I-I thought everyone left. But you’re still here.” His voice cracked, splintering under the weight of it. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me. I knew it.” He took another step forward, his wings weakly flaring out in desperate relief. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Tiresias opened their eyes slowly, and Hermes faltered. Their expression was distant and glassy, the prophet not even recognizing his presence. Hermes stepped closer, his breath coming out in shallow bursts. “Tiresias?” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Please, I’m here. I’m right here.”

Tiresias tilted their head, fingers brushing the staff in a slow, deliberate motion. “You don’t belong here,” they murmured, their voice soft and distant.

Hermes flinched as if struck. “W-what?” he stammered, his wings quivering. “No, no, I-I do. You said I did. You said I always would.” He stepped forward, his hands reaching out. “You promised me. You said I was safe with you.”

Tiresias’s expression didn’t change. Their gaze remained fixed on the darkness beyond, eyes dark, the familiar silver glow having vanished. “You don’t belong here anymore, Hermes.” The words were smooth, practiced, like they were spoken a thousand times before. “You never did.”

Hermes shook his head violently, feathers scattering around him like dead leaves. “No! No, that’s not true! You said I was yours!” His wings flared out wildly, desperation clawing up his throat. “You said you’d always protect me!” His voice cracked, and he fell to his knees, clutching the edges of Tiresias’s robes. “Please, Starlight, please. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t, I don’t have anyone left.”

Tiresias’s hand came down, gentle and unyielding, brushing his hands away. Hermes' grip slipped, his fingers fumbling for purchase. Tiresias stepped back, the light around them flickering, fading. “You are no longer mine,” he whispered, the words cutting through him like a blade. “You never were.”

Hermes' wings shuddered, the remaining feathers dropping one by one, scattering across the ground like ash. He reached out again, his hands trembling. “No, please, I–”

Tiresias stepped back again, the shadows curling around their feet, dragging them away, pulling them into the darkness. Hermes screamed, stumbling forward, wings flaring, but the darkness surged up, thick and suffocating, binding his legs, his arms, his wings. He fought against it, his wings flapping desperately, but it was like he was moving through water, every motion slow, heavy, futile.

“Tiresias!” he screamed, voice cracking with desperation. “Please! I’m still here! I’m still here!”

The light around Tiresias faded further, flickering out like a dying candle. They turned, their face still blank, expressionless. “You do not belong here,” they whispered one last time. And then they stepped into the shadows, vanishing into the mist.

“No! Starlight, please!” Hermes tried to lunge forward, but his wings were tangled in shadow, his hands clawing at the air. The darkness crept up his legs, winding around his waist, binding his wings to his calves. “Please! I’m still here! Don’t leave me! Don’t—”

Hermes collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged, desperate sobs. His wings drooped. His hands shook, fingers curling into fists as he screamed into the empty void. “Starlight! Tiresias!” His voice cracked, splintered. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. Please, I’m still here.”

There was no answer. No warmth. No light. Just the cold, clawing shadows that crept up his back, curling around his wings, winding around his neck. He gasped, choking for air, his wings fluttering uselessly against the weight of it.

“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Please don’t leave me.”

The darkness swallowed him whole, and there was nothing.

Hermes woke with a gasp, his body jerking upright, head wings flaring wide and trembling. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. His eyes were wide and frantic, darting around the room as if searching for the shadows that still clung to his skin.

The nest was warm, familiar; the scent of thyme and moss thick in the air. But the echoes of the dream still clawed at him, sharp and unyielding. He shivered, the wings on his head twitching erratically, his hands pulling his knees up to his chest as he curled in on himself, soft sobs wracking through him.

“Hermes!”

The voice was soft but urgent, laced with worry. There was a sound of a staff tapping lightly against the stone floor, and then a warm hand settled on his shoulder, gentle but grounding. Hermes flinched back hard, wings fluttering wildly as his hands shot up defensively. “No!” he gasped, his voice sharp and edged with fear. His eyes were wild, the dream still fresh in his mind, pain still singing across his bones.

The hand withdrew immediately, the touch replaced by a soft, soothing voice. “It’s me, Hermes. It’s me.” Tiresias's voice was low and steady, woven with patience. They knelt beside him, their staff resting across their lap, hands spread open, visible and unthreatening. Their head tilted slightly, listening, waiting for the trembling god to find his breath.

Hermes stared at them, breath heaving, head wings shivering with tension. He didn’t move, his gaze locked on their face as if searching for something, for some sign that this was real, that they were real. His hands stayed fisted near his chest, his knees still pulled up tight.

Tiresias stayed where they were, not moving closer, his hands still held out in a gesture of peace. “You’re with me,” they murmured, voice calm and steady. “You’re here in our blanket pile. You’re safe.”

Hermes blinked, his breath hitching. He shifted back, just an inch, his wings folding tighter against his head, the feathers trembling. “But you left,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You…you left me.” His eyes were wide, glimmering with fresh tears, still caught between the nightmare and waking. “You left me alone.”

Tiresias's face softened, their expression filled with heartbreak and tenderness. “No, sweet bird. I’m right here,” he said, voice trembling with sincerity. “I haven’t left. I won’t leave.” His hands stayed open, resting on his lap, patient and willing to wait.

Hermes looked down, his wings still bristling with tension. He pulled his knees tighter to his chest, shaking his head slowly. “I-I saw it. You were there, and y-you said I didn’t belong,” his voice cracked, wings fluttering weakly. “You left me.”

Tiresias took a breath, steady and grounding. “That was a dream, love,” he whispered gently. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

Hermes flinched again, wings flickering. He stared at Tiresias’s hands and then back at his face. His own hands didn’t move, just stayed curled tight around his knees. “But…but what if you do?” His voice cracked, splintering like thin ice. “What if you leave too?”

Tiresias’s expression grew resolute, and they leaned in just a fraction, enough that their voice was a whisper just for him. “I won’t,” he promised. “I won’t ever leave you.” His voice softened, warm and reverent. “I’m yours, Hermes. Yours. And you are mine. Forever, sweet bird.”

Hermes swallowed thickly, his breath stuttering. His head wings twitched, flaring just slightly before settling back against his curls. He stared down at Tiresias's hands, firm and steady, his own shaking and brittle.

There was a moment of silence, thick and heavy. Then, slowly, haltingly, Hermes uncurled just a little. His hands slipped from his knees, falling onto Tiresias's open palms. Tiresias's hands closed around his, firm and steady, but gentle, so gentle, like Hermes might shatter if touched too harshly.

“You’re here,” Hermes whispered, his voice barely audible.

Tiresias smiled softly, their thumb brushing gentle arcs over the back of Hermes’ hand. “I’m here, little bird,” he echoed, his voice a gentle hum. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes’ breath hitched, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. He squeezed Tiresias's hand, his wings fluttering weakly. “Promise?” he whispered, voice cracking on the word.

Tiresias's hands tightened just a little, his expression impossibly tender. “I promise,” they murmured, voice unyielding. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

Hermes shuddered, the wings on his head shivering with the release of tension. He took a breath, shaky and raw, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. “I was so scared,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I-I thought I lost you.”

Tiresias moved just a bit closer, their hand slipping up to cup Hermes’ cheek. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice soothing the raw edges of Hermes’ fear. “You didn’t lose me. You won’t lose me.”

Hermes shuddered again, his wings shivering but no longer flaring in distress. He took another breath, his hands finally gripping Tiresias's robes, clinging like a lifeline.

Tiresias didn’t move, didn’t rush him. They just gently pulled him close, holding him close to their chest. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, voice feather-light against Hermes’ curls. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry you were so scared, sweet bird.”

Hermes let out a ragged breath, his wings finally going still, the tension bleeding from his muscles as he relaxed, just a little, into Tiresias's arms. His breath evened out, soft and steady, and Tiresias's hands stayed firm, keeping him grounded in the present.

“I won’t leave you,” Tiresias whispered again, their hand moving gently through Hermes’ hair. “I promise.”

“It was horrible. They all were so mad. Father. M-mother. She said she didn’t have a son. She couldn’t even see me. Gods, and Apollo.” His breath stuttered. Tiresias held him just a little tighter, just a little closer. “Polly said that I was a disgrace. That he couldn’t be seen with me. He doesn’t think that, right?” Hermes whispered.

“Of course he doesn’t, Hermes. He told me that he had so much fun with you today and that he’d try to be back as soon as he could. He loves you so much. Remember the note he sent you?” Tiresias murmured gently. Hermes nodded, breathing shakily. Hermes read that note so often, keeping it safely tucked away with the small tapestry Penelope had woven. 

“He…he cares,” Hermes whispered, desperate to convince himself.

“Of course he does, sweetheart. Your brother loves you so much.” Tiresias whispered gently, kissing Hermes’ curls. Hermes took a deep, shaky breath.

“There you go, sweet bird. Keep breathing just like that.” Tiresias encouraged. Hermes frame started shaking again.

“Even Odysseus’s family didn’t want me. They told me I was always welcome, that I had a home with them, but then they said that because I was de-denounced, th-that we were no longer family. They wouldn’t l-look at me.” He cried.

“A-and Thena said I didn’t belong anymore. A-a-and Uncle Hades said it was a mistake keeping me here. Said I wasn’t worth his protection.” Hermes said softly, burying his face in Tiresias’s shoulder.

“Lord Hades definitely does not think that. I can call him here for you to hear it yourself if you’d like.” Hermes froze, thinking.

“I’d like that,” He admitted. Tiresias nodded, gently hugging Hermes again.

“Of course, little bird. Give me a moment.”

Tiresias had only done this once before and was hesitant to call now, but Hermes needed to hear someone else disprove these thoughts, and the King of the Dead had promised to help if he was needed. The prophet stretched his mind, grasping onto that connection that linked every soul to Hades and gently tugged.

The king’s response was almost immediate.

 

Tiresias?

 

Lord Hades, I apologize for any inconvenience, and I hate to disturb, but would you be able to come help comfort Hermes? He’s had a rough day, followed by a nightmare, and needs to hear from someone else that he’s still wanted. He’s calming down, I just think it would be helpful. 

 

Say no more, Persephone and I are on our way.

 

Tiresias sighed, gently running a hand through Hermes’ hair.

“Your uncle is on his way over, okay, love? He’ll be here soon.” Tiresias murmured. Hermes nodded, still trembling slightly.

Hades wasted no time getting to the cave.

“Hermes?” His voice called through, softer than Tiresias had ever heard it. Hermes just sniffled, pressing closer to Tiresias, who gently ran their hand down his spine.

“Shhh, love. It’s okay. I promise he still cares.” He whispered. Then he raised his voice slightly, careful not to startle Hermes. “We’re by the fire, Lord Hades.” Soft footsteps followed.

“Oh, Hermes,” A gentle, female voice murmured. Tiresias felt Hermes flinch in their arms, pressing impossibly closer. They continued to gently run their hands along his back, keeping Hermes grounded, not letting him slip back into the realm of nightmares.

“Lady Persephone, Lord Hades. Welcome to our home.” Tiresias nodded, the closest he could get to bowing without disturbing Hermes.

“What happened?” Hades asked, concern filling his voice. Tiresias began to answer, but Hermes cut him off.

“Do I still belong here?” Hermes lifted his head from where it had been pressed against Tiresias’s shoulder, turning his tear-filled gaze to his Aunt and Uncle. “P-please? I-I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’ll be better. P-please. I promise–”

“Hermes.” Hades cut him off, voice firm, but so gentle. Hermes took a shuddering breath, seeming to brace himself for the blow.

“Of course you belong here.” The god answered softly. Hermes blinked.

“I do?” He whispered. Tiresias continued to hold him, to trace gentle patterns along his spine, comforting him. Persephone smiled gently.

“Oh, Hermes. What could make you think we would ever want you to leave? You are loved and safe here. You will always belong here.” She whispered. Hermes took another deep, shaky breath.

“Good, love. Good. Just like that.” Tiresias whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the fallen god’s temple.

“But you said…you said that it was a mistake. That letting me stay was a mistake. Th-that I w-wasn’t worth your protection.” Hermes' voice trembled. Hades’ face softened.

“A nightmare, nephew. I have never once thought that.” He reassured.

“B-but. I heard you.” Hermes whispered.

“Hermes,” Hades interrupted. “You are my family. I would never say that to you. Never. Okay?” He assured. Hermes hesitated, but then nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. Tiresias pressed a kiss to his temple.

“You have nothing to apologize for, love. You were scared.” They murmured. Persephone walked closer, kneeling down by the blankets. She reached out and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Darling Hermes. You’ve been so brave. It’s okay to falter and need reassurance. It’s okay to need help.” She smiled gently, a small flower blooming in his curls. Hades kneeled next to her.

“You will always have a place in this realm, Hermes. Always. And if you need to hear us say it to believe it, you have but to ask.” Hades smiled. Hermes nodded, another shaky breath leaving him.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The rulers of the underworld smiled.

“Of course,” Persephone whispered.

“We love you, Hermes. Never forget that.” Hades whispered. Hermes shook his head.

“Never,” he promised. With that, the two rulers took their leave, and Hermes curled back into Tiresias, no longer trembling.

“Take another deep breath, my love. You’re okay.” Tiresias encouraged. Hermes inhaled, slowly and deeply, and exhaled just as steadily.

“Very good, little bird. Very good.” Tiresias praised.

“Thank you, Starlight. Love you.” He murmured, letting Tiresias’s warmth surround him.

“I love you, too, Hermes. Get some rest, my love, you need it.” Hermes froze.

“B-but what if–”

“I’ll be here the whole time to keep any more nightmares away. I’m not leaving, sweet bird.” Tiresias promised. Hermes shuddered once more, releasing a breath.

“Thank you.” The raw, unguarded emotion in those two small words washed over Tiresias. He could feel how exhausted, fragile, and scared Hermes was, but he could also feel the love and relief the messenger felt. Their arms tightened around the god.

“Of course, my love. I will always be here.”

Notes:

Okay okay okay. I may post tomorrow, or even again later tonight, because I am SO excited for the next part of the story. But, we'll have to wait and see when it comes out.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! As always, take care of yourselves my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 33

Summary:

So this is a huge turning point in the story…hope you like it!

“I had no idea, Hades.” Persephone’s voice was soft when they arrived back at their palace. Shadows flickered along the stone walls, dancing with the firelight that lined the corridor. Hades sighed, his shoulders heavy with thought.

“I didn’t know how bad it was at first either. I wouldn’t have kept my distance for so long had I known.” He ran a hand through his hair, the silver strands catching the light for just a moment. His eyes were distant, thoughtful. “He’s strong, though. Stronger than most would be in his place.”

“That he is. I didn’t know,” Persephone paused, fingers brushing against the petals of a flower that sprouted from the stone at her touch. “I didn’t realize that Zeus could be so cruel. To do that to his own son.” Her voice wavered, and the flower in her hand blossomed wider, petals curling as if mirroring her sorrow.

Hades’ expression hardened. “Cruelty is not foreign to Olympus,” he said, voice edged with a dark sort of finality. “But this…casting out his own blood? Stripping him of everything? And then abandoning him? It’s,” he exhaled sharply, his hand falling back to his side. “It’s unforgivable.”

Persephone watched him, her hand still lingering on the flower. “I’m glad he’s found a place here,” she murmured, eyes softening. “It can’t have been easy for him to lose so much so fast.”

“It hasn’t been easy. And Zeus is too caught up in his own pride to realize what he’s done. He’s tearing his family apart. Apollo can barely stand to think of his father without fear, let alone speak to him. And Hermes.” Hades’ face hardened with resolve. “He had to stand still and listen while his father dismissed him as family. He was forced to bow, to tremble beneath the gaze of the man who sired him, and be unable to do anything.” The shadows grew in the room, darkening, curling around Persephone’s flower. She frowned as it crumbled to dust.

“My love. Anger will not better us, nor will it solve Hermes’ situation. We must be patient and kind. We have no power to change Zeus’s mind. I worry,” she paused. “I worry that our meddling will only cause Zeus to lengthen poor Hermes’ sentence.” 

“Well then, we will keep our realm open to him as long as he needs it. But I will not cease this ‘meddling’ as you call it, my dear. Not while it serves as protection for those boys. I cannot bear the thought of them being separated again.”

“I know, Hades. But please, be kind to your brother too. He is still family. Try to reason with him. Zeus is not unwise. He will listen to reason.” Persephone said gently.

“No. He will not. Not if it conflicts with his pride.” Hades sighed. “But I will do what’s best for Hermes. He deserves kindness, not my brother’s anger.”

“He has Tiresias,” Persephone’s voice trailed off, a smile curving her lips.

Hades' expression shifted, a flicker of something like awe crossing his features. “Yes,” he agreed, voice softer now. “Tiresias has been more than I could have asked for. When I allowed him to stay after he died, I thought it was a kindness.” He shook his head, almost laughing at the thought. “I see now it was a mercy for all of us.”

Persephone tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. “He’s done so much for Hermes,” she whispered. “Kept him safe, grounded, given him a reason to stay.” Her eyes flickered back to Hades, and her smile grew. “You could repay him, you know.”

Hades' eyes sharpened, his gaze turning fully to her. “Repay him?”

“Yes.” Persephone stepped forward, her hand brushing his shoulder, drawing his attention. “I know you, my love. You don’t like debts. And what Tiresias has done,” she paused, letting the words settle. “He’s cared for Hermes in ways I don’t think anyone else could. He deserves more than just our gratitude.”

Hades looked away, the shadows of his realm stretching long across the walls. “What could I possibly give him?” His voice was low, almost a whisper. “He’s made his choice to stay here. He’s accepted his place.”

Persephone’s smile turned wistful. “Perhaps it doesn’t have to be just here,” she murmured.

Hades turned back to her, brow furrowing. “What are you suggesting?”

Her eyes gleamed with warmth and gentle mischief. “A gift,” she whispered, stepping closer. “One fitting for what he’s given us.”

He blinked, the realization dawning slowly. “You mean…letting him…”

“Visit the mortal realm,” she finished for him, her voice alight with the idea. “As a gesture of gratitude. A thank you for taking care of Hermes. A chance for him to walk the lands he once knew.”

Hades was silent, the weight of the idea settling over him like a cloak. Finally, he spoke, voice steady and resolute. “He has earned that.” His eyes flickered with decision, and he turned back to Persephone. “And I will see that he receives it.”

~~~~

Hermes was still curled in Tiresias’s embrace when morning came. The gloom lightening into a softer shade of grey. Tiresias awoke first, gently brushing his hands through Hermes’ hair. Soothing any lingering fear that may still be plaguing the sleeping god.

“Starlight?” Hermes woke, voice thick and shaky.

“Good morning, sweet bird. How do you feel?” He asked gently. Hermes took a deep breath.

“Like I got run over by Polly’s chariot,” he groaned. Tiresias chuckled softly.

Hermes sighed, “I want to go to Ithaca,” he whispered, his voice soft and gentle.

“Ithaca?” Tiresias asked, somewhat surprised.

“I want to see them. I want to know they’re okay.”

Tiresias's hand stilled for a moment before resuming its slow, soothing motion. “I know you do,” he whispered back. His voice was gentle but laced with regret. “I just wish I could go with you.”

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, his wings drooping with the weight of it. “I don’t want to go alone,” he murmured, voice cracking. “Not after…not after everything.”

Tiresias held him tighter, their forehead resting gently against Hermes’ curls. “I know, sweet bird,” they whispered, voice soft as a lullaby. “I know.”

But before Tiresias could continue, a low, familiar voice rippled through the room, smooth and deliberate. “What if you didn’t have to go alone?”

Hermes’ head snapped up, wings flaring wide with a startled flutter. Tiresias straightened, head tilting as they registered the familiar presence of the King of the Dead. His expression was calm, eyes steady as they flickered from Tiresias to Hermes and back again.

“What?” Hermes breathed, disbelief lacing his voice. “What do you mean?”

Hades stepped forward, the darkness trailing behind him, melting away into the soft light of the cave. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze settling firmly on Tiresias. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, voice smooth and deliberate. “About everything you’ve done, Tiresias.” His eyes softened, a flicker of something almost reverent passing over his features. “You’ve taken care of Hermes. More than I could have asked. More than anyone could have asked.”

Tiresias’s hands curled into the blankets, a faint blush spreading over his cheeks. “I only did what was right,” they murmured. “Hermes deserves that.”

Hades’ smile was slight but genuine. “That, he does.” He paused, his gaze drifting to Hermes, who was still curled tightly against Tiresias, eyes wide and questioning. “But you’ve done more than what’s right. You’ve given him a place here. You’ve made him feel safe. Loved.”

Hermes’ eyes glimmered, his wings twitching with the faintest tremor. Tiresias swallowed hard. “He’s my heart,” he whispered. “Of course I would.”

Hades inclined his head, as if that answer was exactly what he’d expected. “And for that, you have my eternal gratitude.” His voice dropped to something softer, more intimate. “You’ve done what even the gods would not.”

Tiresias straightened, confusion mingling with surprise. “My lord?”

Hades’ gaze was steady, unyielding. “I spoke with Persephone,” he continued, his voice carrying a quiet sort of reverence. “We both agreed that a debt is owed to you.” He took another step forward, shadows whispering at his heels. “And I do not like to leave debts unpaid.”

Hermes held his breath, his wings curling tightly against his calves. Tiresias blinked, brow furrowing. “Lord Hades, I don’t need anything. I only want Hermes safe. That is more than enough.”

Hades shook his head slowly, a flicker of a smile touching his lips. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But what I am offering is not just for you.” His gaze slid back to Hermes, whose eyes were wide and shimmering with disbelief. “You wish to see Ithaca again, don’t you?”

Hermes nodded, the movement sharp and immediate. “I-I do. But I don’t want to go alone.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Tiresias’s grip on him tightened.

Hades’ expression softened. “And you won’t have to.” He turned back to Tiresias, his voice steady and clear. “You have my permission to leave the Underworld with Hermes.”

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy with promise. Tiresias stiffened, his breath catching. “I…I don’t understand.”

“You have been the light that kept Hermes whole.” His voice dropped, turning solemn. “As a gesture of my gratitude, I am granting you the ability to leave these walls. To walk the mortal world once again, alongside him.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched audibly, their hand flying up to cover their mouth. “You would allow that?” They whispered, disbelief threading their voice.

Hades inclined his head. “I would. I do.” His gaze flickered to Hermes, who was still frozen, staring at Tiresias with wide, hopeful eyes. “For as long as you need. The boundaries of my realm will not hold you. Not for this.”

A breathless laugh slipped from Tiresias’s lips, trembling and disbelieving. “I–I don’t know what to say,” they whispered. “Thank you, Lord Hades.”

Hermes, who had been silent and still, finally moved. He threw himself forward, arms wrapping around Tiresias so tightly it was like he feared they might vanish if he let go. “You’re coming with me?” he whispered, voice cracking with hope.

Tiresias’s hands came up, grasping Hermes' back, holding him just as fiercely. “I guess I am,” he whispered back.

Hades' smile widened, just a fraction. “Consider it a small repayment for everything you’ve done. For him. For us.” His gaze softened, glancing to Hermes. “For him.” He said softly, then his eyes narrowed, just slightly. “But I do not grant this permission lightly, Tiresias of Thebes. I trust you will not abuse this gift.”

Tiresias pulled back, tears shimmering at the edges of their sightless eyes. “Thank you, my lord.” His voice cracked, heavy with emotion. “I will honor this gift. You will not regret it.”

Hades raised a hand, silencing them with a gentle wave. “I know,” he murmured, his voice almost fatherly. “Just promise me one thing.”

Tiresias straightened. “Anything.”

Hades' eyes flickered to Hermes, who was still holding Tiresias with a desperate sort of joy. “Take care of him. In the mortal realm, just as you do here.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and they placed a hand over Hermes’ head wings, fingers brushing through the soft feathers with reverence. “That,” they promised, voice firm and steady, “I can do.”

Hades nodded once, his shadow stretching longer as he stepped back. “Then it is settled.” His voice echoed, final and resolute. He turned, the shadows curling back around his form. “I shall leave you to your preparations. You will find the way open and accessible when you need it. Enjoy your time.”

As the shadows swallowed him, Tiresias and Hermes were left alone in the nest, silence stretching like sunlight across the stone. Hermes finally looked up, his eyes wide and shimmering. “We’re going to Ithaca. Together.” His voice was a whisper, awed and disbelieving.

Tiresias, still holding him tight, let out a shaky laugh. “Yes,” they murmured, voice cracking. “Together.”

Hermes’ wings flared out wide, feathers fluttering with the force of his excitement. He practically vibrated with energy, his hands clasped tightly in Tiresias's. His eyes shone bright, shimmering with the kind of joy that could light up the darkest caverns, and he stood, spinning around with excitement.

“Starlight! We can go! We can go together!” Hermes exclaimed, his voice bright and bubbling with laughter. He spun in place, wings flaring and twitching with energy. “Ithaca! The cliffs, the grass, the ocean! Oh, gods, you’ll love it! It’s so beautiful! So full of life!”

Tiresias was still seated, hands folded neatly in his lap, their face turned slightly toward Hermes as he spun and bounced with boundless energy. His fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his robes, knuckles paling with the pressure.

“And the market!” Hermes continued, barely pausing to catch his breath. “You can smell the bread baking from all the way down the road, and there’s this little stand that sells the sweetest figs you’ve ever tasted.” He stopped his excited pacing and grabbed Tiresias's hands, squeezing them tight. “I’ll take you to the hilltops where you can feel the wind rush past you. It’s like you’re flying!”

Tiresias smiled, but it was the kind of smile that barely touched their eyes. Hermes, lost in his joy, didn’t seem to notice at first, continuing to babble about the colors of Ithaca, the sounds of the sea, the wildflowers that grew in thick patches along the cliffs. His wings twitched excitedly with each word, fluttering as if trying to take off.

But Tiresias's hands trembled just slightly in his own. Hermes stilled, the flicker of movement catching his eye. He turned back, his wings drooping just slightly. “Starlight?” he asked gently, his voice softening. “Are you alright?”

Tiresias's smile faltered. They straightened a bit, fingers tightening in Hermes’ grasp. “I…It’s just,” they began, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been so long since I,” Their hands shook again, just faintly. “The mortal realm…”

Hermes’ wings fluttered with gentle concern. He stepped forward, his hands still holding Tiresias’, squeezing just a little tighter. “Hey,” he whispered, voice dropping to that soft, soothing tone Tiresias often used with him. “It’s okay. It’s just a lot, huh?”

Tiresias swallowed, their hands clenching. “I haven’t walked the mortal realm since,” they trailed off, their unseeing eyes turning just slightly toward where Hermes’ voice was coming from. “I don’t know what it looks like anymore. I don’t know what it’s become. What if…?”

Hermes moved even closer, his wings fluttering just enough to brush against Tiresias's side, a grounding presence. “It’s still beautiful,” he whispered, voice soft and reverent. “I promise.” His hands moved to gently cup Tiresias's own, thumbs brushing over the knuckles in slow, steady circles. “And you won’t have to face it alone. I’ll be right there. Every step.”

Tiresias's breath hitched, and for a moment, they looked impossibly fragile. “I used to see it,” he murmured, his voice feather-light. “I remember sunlight, the way it stretched across fields. How the grass swayed in the wind.” A tremor ran through their hands. “I haven’t felt it in so long.”

Hermes’ hands squeezed tighter, his wings curling around just slightly, like he was trying to shield Tiresias from the weight of the world. “We’ll feel it together,” he promised, his voice steady. “I’ll describe everything to you, every flower, every tree, every pebble on the path. And you’ll feel the wind. You’ll feel the sun.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And you won’t be alone. Not ever.”

Tiresias swallowed hard, their hands still shaking slightly. “You’re sure?” they asked, their voice barely above a breath.

Hermes’ eyes shimmered with sincerity. “I’m sure.” He took a breath, slow and deliberate. “And if it’s too much, we’ll come straight back. We’ll come back home, and I’ll hold you until it’s okay.”

A small, broken laugh escaped Tiresias, and they raised a hand to cup Hermes’ cheek, their fingers brushing gently along his jaw. “You’ve grown stronger,” they whispered, voice trembling with reverence. “I remember when you wouldn’t even let me fuss over your wings.”

Hermes laughed, his wings fluttering behind him, shaking off the tension. “You’re still not allowed to fuss. That’s Pollo’s job,” he teased gently. But his eyes softened, his hand coming up to cover Tiresias’. “But you’re allowed to be nervous,” he murmured, voice softening. “You’re allowed to be scared.”

Tiresias tilted their head slightly, the smile softening with gratitude. “Thank you, sweet bird,” they whispered. “I’m grateful to be going with you.”

Hermes’ wings flared just slightly, brushing against Tiresias's arms. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, just holding each other’s hands, the fire crackling softly in the background. Finally, Tiresias took a slow, measured breath, their hands stilling in Hermes’. “Alright,” they murmured, voice steadier now. “Let’s…let’s prepare.”

Hermes grinned, the light returning to his eyes. “Prepare?” he repeated, wings fluttering excitedly. “Starlight, I have so many ideas!” He bounced slightly, his wings brushing against the stone with each movement. “We’re going to see everything. I swear it.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands steady now in Hermes’. “I trust you.”

Hermes’ grin softened, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to Tiresias’. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice a promise. “Just like you’ve always had me.”

~~~~

Hermes flitted around the cave, still buzzing with energy when night fell.

“Oh, Starlight. You’re going to absolutely love Ithaca! And I just know that you and Lady Penelope will get along. She reminds me of you, you know. Steady, calm, patient, and so very gentle. She was the one to help me when I got overwhelmed. She showed me how to weave and helped me learn to let things hurt, but then how to move on. She’s wonderful. You’ll like Odysseus and Telemachus too, I know, but I have this feeling that you’ll like Lady Penelope the most.” Hermes rambled. Tiresias smiled, enjoying how happy Hermes was.

“Sweet bird, come on. We have to rest. We’re leaving tomorrow morning, and you need to have all your energy for the trip.” Tiresias murmured. Hermes continued to dance around.

“But, Starlight, I’m much too excited. Why don’t we go now? Why do we have to wait?” He asked. Tiresias laughed.

“Because, little bird, it’s nighttime and Odysseus and his family are sleeping. It would be rude for us to show up and wake them. Now, come lie down, let’s rest.” Hermes walked over, settling into the blanket nest and quickly curling up to Tiresias. The prophet’s arms immediately wrapped around him, and they started tracing soft patterns along Hermes’ back, hoping to calm the messenger down.

But Hermes buzzed with excitement.

“Oh, Starlight. You’re going to be able to experience life again. Oh, I’m so excited. Telemachus may be wary at first; he definitely was when I showed up – you know, he pointed a spear at me. Brave kid. I hope he doesn’t do that to every god or goddess that shows up. Most of them would be very offended by that. But I wasn’t. I admire his bravery.” Hermes spoke like a man on a mission. Tiresias could feel his muscles shifting as the fallen god’s hands flew through the air as he spoke, wings positively vibrating with energy and excitement. 

The prophet sighed, knowing his attempt to calm Hermes down was not working.

“I’m sure Odysseus remembers you. Do you remember him?” Hermes asked.

Tiresias remembered the King of Ithaca. He laughed. Hermes paused, looking at them.

“Of course I do. Poor soul was so confused. Didn’t realize I was talking about him when I told him I saw his wife with a man who is haunting.” Hermes laughed, the sound echoing around the chambers.

“Silly Odysseus.” Hermes sighed fondly. “He’s definitely changed since you spoke to him. He’s more cautious of the world. But he’s kind. They all are.” Hermes smiled and leaned into Tiresias.

“I’m sure they are. You wouldn’t be so excited to go back to people who aren’t kind.” Tiresias murmured, placing a kiss on Hermes’ head. “Now, are you finally settling down? Your wings are still buzzing.” Tiresias pointed out. Hermes grinned, tilting his head to kiss Tiresias.

“I feel like I could fly to and from Olympus without stopping, my love.” Tiresias sighed. Hermes’ wings flared, and the god leaped up, hurrying over to the table.

“OH! I should bring the tapestry I made to show Lady Penelope!” He paused, glancing back at Tiresias.

“Only if it’s okay with you. It is yours, of course.” He said. Tiresias stood, walking over to Hermes, pulling him into their arms.

“My love, of course, you may bring the tapestry. I’m sure Lady Penelope will love it. However, we can worry about all of this in the morning. Now, go lie down before I give you sleep leaf to make you lie down.” They said firmly. Hermes laughed, ducking out of their arms and heading to the soft blanket nest.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Hermes said airily. He turned back to Tiresias, walking backwards. “But we should definitely–oof!” Unfortunately, there was a couch in his way. Hermes’ ankles hit the side of the couch, wings flaring, and he fell backwards, landing on the soft cushions, laughing.

“Hermes!” Tiresias cried, unable to see if the god was okay or not.

“I’m fine, darling. Perfectly okay. I just forgot about the couch.” Hermes laughed. Tiresias sighed, shaking their head.

“That’s it. Bedtime. Before you actually hurt yourself.” He declared. Hermes groaned.

“But–”

“No buts. Come on, little bird. It’s time for you to rest.” Tiresias gently grabbed Hermes’ arms and led him to the nest, making sure he was settled and comfortable before joining him. Hermes sighed happily, pulling Tiresias close.

The light dimmed, and Hermes finally felt himself growing tired. Tiresias’s arms tracing soothing patterns along his back. Maybe the prophet somehow managed to get Hermes with sleep leaf, maybe Hermes was just tired, either way, he felt his body begin to relax.

“You know, darling, we sleep out here more often than we sleep in our actual bed,” Hermes mused.

“Hermes?”

“Yes, love?”

“Go to sleep.”

~~~

Hermes woke with a start, energy sparking through his veins like Zeus’s lightning. He practically launched himself out of the blanket nest, wings flaring wide as he stumbled to his feet. Tiresias stirred, groaning softly as they rolled over, covering their head with a blanket. “Hermes, my sweetest darling. Is it not too early to be flapping about? Come back to bed.” He murmured sleepily. “The night hasn’t even completely faded.”

Hermes paused mid-step, wings fluttering excitedly. “But, Starlight, today’s the day! Ithaca! We’ll be seeing Lady Penelope, Telemachus, and Odysseus! I have so much to get ready!” His eyes sparkled, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Tiresias sighed. “Perhaps a bit more quietly, love. The Underworld is not known for its morning enthusiasm.”

“You didn’t sleep before I got you a bed. And even then, you only used it when I visited. Stop acting like a Grandmother who's been woken too early.” Hermes stuck his tongue out at the prophet.

“I don’t need sight to know you just stuck your tongue out, Hermes. Aren’t you a bit old for such childish behavior?” Tiresias teasingly scolded.

“Oh, come on, Starlight. You know that childish behavior is my forte!” Hermes grinned, flitting across the room, hands brushing over the small items he’d prepared over the past few weeks. 

He grabbed a small, intricately carved dog, a gift for Telemachus. His fingers brushed over the smooth wood, and he smiled, running a thumb along the delicate curves. “Do you think they’ll like it? He said Thena called him ‘Little Wolf.’ I thought it would be nice.” He said.

Tiresias, now sitting up and stretching slowly, chuckled softly. “I’m sure he’ll love it. You spent long enough perfecting it.” Hermes beamed, tucking it carefully into the small leather pouch he had set aside for the trip.

Next, he reached for the tapestry he'd woven to show Penelope. “She taught me how to weave, you know,” he whispered, a fondness softening his voice. “She was so patient.” He placed the woven piece carefully beside the dog carving, making sure it wouldn’t get torn or frayed.

“And for Odysseus,” Hermes hesitated, his hand brushing over the last item. It was a small bag, tightly woven and bound with thick leather straps. Soft blue swirls were woven into the fabric, resembling the wind. It looked just like the windbag he’d once gifted Odysseus, the very one that the king had opened to hit Poseidon. He ran his fingers over the seams, his eyes glimmering with nostalgia. “I thought he might like it. A bit of a joke, you know?” He glanced back at Tiresias with a grin.

Tiresias raised a brow, amusement flickering over their features. “A bold joke. Let’s hope he’s in the mood to laugh.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings fluttering gently. “He’ll laugh. He always does. Eventually. Besides, the real gift lies inside.” It was the truth. Inside lie a finely carved wooden ship. An exact replica of Odysseus’s ship that had carried him through so much danger.

He carefully placed the bag alongside the other two gifts, patting them gently before pulling the drawstring shut. But as he did, a wave of melancholy washed over him. His hands stilled, resting on the leather pouch, and his wings drooped just slightly.

Tiresias tilted their head. “What is it, my love?” He asked gently.

Hermes stared down at the bag, fingers brushing over the seams. “I just…I used to have a messenger bag,” he murmured, his voice soft and distant. “It could carry anything; scrolls, herbs, ambrosia. Things for Apollo, letters for Demeter, even secret things for Father.” He swallowed, his wings twitching faintly. “It was endless. I could bring anything to anyone.” His fingers tightened just slightly around the bag he now held. “It was just…it was mine.” His voice cracked just slightly on the last word.

Tiresias’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to rest gently over Hermes’. “I’m sorry, sweet bird,” they whispered, their thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I know you’ve lost so much.”

Hermes swallowed thickly, wings curling closer to his body. He gave a small nod, blinking back the shine in his eyes. “I just…I wish I still had it.” He took a breath, shaking off the feeling and offering Tiresias a soft, fragile smile. “But it’s okay. I’ve got everything I need.” He patted the pouch again, his hands a little steadier. “These will do just fine.”

Tiresias smiled gently, squeezing his hand. “More than fine, Hermes. You’ve put so much love into each of these.”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a tiny, hopeful flutter. “You think so?”

Tiresias chuckled, patting his hand. “I know so.”

Hermes straightened, tucking the pouch over his shoulder with care. “Then I guess…I’m ready.” His eyes glimmered with a new light, brighter and less burdened. “We’re going to Ithaca!”

Tiresias groaned. “My love. The sun has hardly begun to rise.” He said. Hermes’ wings flared.

“Exactly. Telemachus will already be out training. Let’s go!” He tried to pull Tiresias to their feet.

“Hermes.” Tiresias warned and the god froze.

“My love, you need to slow down. We have plenty of time.”

Hermes’ wings twitched. “But we can’t be late. We have to get there as soon as possible…I don’t want to miss anything!” 

Tiresias chuckled softly, shaking their head. “Sweet bird, Ithaca isn’t going anywhere.” They walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath, alright? We’ll get there. I promise. But first, we need to breathe.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, his breath hitching just slightly. “Okay,” he whispered, voice softer. “Okay.” He took a deep breath and settled down.

“Thank you, my love. It’s going to be very important that we go slowly. Ithaca isn’t expecting us, and,” they hesitated. “I need time, too, little bird. This is still a lot for me. As much as I adore your energy and your laughter. I need you to be slower. Please.” Tiresias confessed. 

Hermes practically buzzed with energy as they walked side by side, the winding paths of the Underworld stretching out before them. They had taken this path more time than Hermes could count, leading them directly to Lethe’s edge. The river trickled quietly beside them, its waters singing her soft song. Tiresias’s hand rested on Hermes' arm, their staff clicking softly against the stone with each step.

“Are you ready?” Hermes asked, voice bright and shimmering with anticipation. His wings fluttered slightly, their tips brushing Tiresias’s calves with each bounce.

Tiresias tilted his head, his expression calm, but his grip on Hermes' arm tightened just slightly. “I don’t think I could ever be fully ready,” they admitted, voice soft. “But I’m willing.”

Hermes grinned, his wings flaring. “That’s all I need.”

Finally, they reached it; a soft ripple along the surface of the water, almost like a curtain of sunlight spilling out from a crack in the stone. It shimmered with a faint golden light, blinking in and out of existence like it was caught between moments. Hermes paused, his wings stilling, and he turned to Tiresias. “This is it,” he whispered.

Tiresias’s hand slipped from Hermes' arm, fingers brushing the edge of the rift, feeling the warmth of it pulse under their fingertips. “It’s warm,” he murmured, voice filled with awe.

Hermes watched, eyes bright. “Are you ready to feel it? Life?”

Tiresias took a breath, his shoulders straightening. “Yes.”

Hermes stepped forward, his hand clasped around Tiresias’s, and together, they stepped through the rift.

The world broke open into light.

The first thing Tiresias felt was the sun. It poured over them in waves, warm and soft, brushing over his skin like a memory. He gasped, his hand flying up to his face, as if to catch the sunlight in his palms. “Oh,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Oh.”

Hermes watched, wings fluttering gently. “I told you,” he murmured, his voice impossibly soft.

Tiresias raised his head, the warmth of the sun pouring over his cheeks, his jaw, his hands. His hair caught the light, shimmering faintly with the glow of it. He took a step forward, the ground beneath him soft and alive, grass brushing his ankles. “It’s warm,” he repeated, voice cracking with disbelief. “I forgot…”

Hermes stepped closer, his hand still clasped tightly in Tiresias’s. “I know.”

A breeze whispered through the trees, the sound of rustling leaves filling the silence. Tiresias tilted his head, his eyes slipping closed. He took a breath, slow and deliberate, and the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth filled his lungs. A shudder ran through him. “Hermes,” he whispered. “I can hear it.”

Hermes squeezed his hand. “The wind?”

Tiresias nodded, his breath hitching. “Yes. The wind.” He took another step, his hand slipping from Hermes' grasp to brush over the tops of the grass. “It’s moving.” His voice cracked, and he let out a breathless laugh. “It’s moving.”

Hermes’ eyes shimmered, his wings flaring with gentle joy. “I told you,” he whispered, voice soft as the breeze. “It’s beautiful.”

Tiresias let out another laugh, breathless and shaking, his hands brushing through the air as if trying to grasp the wind itself. “It is,” he murmured. “It truly is.”

Hermes stepped up beside him, his hand resting gently on Tiresias’s shoulder. “Welcome back,” he whispered, voice tender and filled with love. “Welcome back to the living.”

Notes:

EEEEEEEE! HE'S BACK IN THE LIVING! To clarify, Tiresias is not back alive, just allowed to travel into the mortal realm.

I hope you loved this chapter! As always, take care of yourselves my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 34

Summary:

REUNION TIME!!

Tiresias was still absorbing it all, the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair, the distant crash of waves, the smell of salt and earth, when the sound of hurried footsteps broke the stillness.

Hermes’ wings fluttered excitedly, head tilting just slightly, as if he’d heard something just on the edge of perception. A grin spread across his face, bright and boundless. “Oh,” he whispered, grinning wildly now. “Oh, I know that sound.”

Before Tiresias could ask, the footsteps grew louder, heavier, punctuated by the scrape of sandals against dirt and the joyful cry of a familiar voice.

“HERMES!”

Hermes barely had time to turn before the figure crashed into him, arms flinging around his waist, nearly knocking him off balance. Hermes let out a surprised oof, his wings flaring out instinctively to steady himself. But then he laughed, a sound full of joy and disbelief, and his arms wrapped around the boy just as fiercely.

Tiresias froze. They weren’t wearing their blindfold. He quickly pulled it out from his pocket and slipped it over his eyes. He didn’t want to frighten the mortals with the sight of his scars.

“Telemachus!” Hermes cried, his voice brimming with warmth. He held the boy tightly, wings fluttering with delight. “Look at you! You’ve grown since I last saw you!”

Telemachus pulled back just enough to look up at Hermes, his eyes shining with admiration. “I didn’t think I’d see you again!” he exclaimed, his voice breathless from the run. “I thought, well, I thought maybe.” He shook his head, grin spreading wider. “You’re back!”

Hermes' smile softened, and he ruffled Telemachus’s hair, wings still twitching with excitement. “I said I would be,” he teased. “And I brought someone with me.” He turned, gently guiding Telemachus’s gaze to Tiresias, who was still standing a bit stiffly, a hand lightly gripping their staff.

Hermes’ smile faltered when he saw the blindfold sitting on their face.

Telemachus straightened immediately, eyes wide with curiosity. “Who…?”

Hermes stepped back, one hand still on Telemachus’s shoulder. “This is Tiresias,” he introduced warmly, his voice gentle. “My Starlight.”

Tiresias offered a soft smile, head dipping in acknowledgment. “It’s an honor to meet you, Telemachus.”

The boy blinked, gaze darting between Hermes and Tiresias, and then he grinned, wide and genuine. “Any friend of Hermes is welcome here,” he declared. His eyes shone with sincerity, and Hermes couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest.

Tiresias relaxed just a bit, his grip on the staff loosening. Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering softly and he leaned closer to the prophet. “See? I told you. No danger here.” He turned back to the young prince, squeezing Telemachus’s shoulder fondly. “You’ve gotten faster. I almost didn’t hear you coming.”

Telemachus laughed, cheeks flushing with pride. “I’ve been practicing!” His eyes flickered back to Tiresias. “Are you…are you going to stay with us?”

Hermes grinned, looking back at Tiresias with a softness that spoke volumes. “If you’ll have us.”

Telemachus beamed, nodding so enthusiastically that his curls bounced. “Of course! Of course, you’re welcome!” He turned, already jogging back toward the path. “I have to tell Mother! She’s going to be so happy!” He shouted back, not even pausing for breath.

Hermes watched him go, a fond smile stretching across his face. He turned back to Tiresias, his eyes shimmering with joy. “See?” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “We’re welcome here.”

Tiresias smiled back, their hand finding Hermes’. “Yes, love,” they murmured, voice tender and reverent. “I can see that.”

Telemachus bounded ahead, his footsteps light and hurried as he weaved through the familiar path back toward the palace. Hermes stayed right at his heels, his wings fluttering occasionally with excitement, and his voice bubbling with joy as he and the boy spoke over one another, neither pausing long enough for the other to finish. Their conversation bounced back and forth like a game of catch, a flurry of words and questions and half-laughed stories that seemed to pick up speed the longer they went on.

Tiresias, holding tightly to Hermes’ hand, allowed himself to be gently led, the rush of fresh air and sunlight still singing against his skin. His senses were sharper here, more alive; he could feel the heat of the sun settling on his shoulders, smell the salt of the ocean in the distance, hear the whisper of leaves brushing against one another in the breeze. It was overwhelming in the most beautiful way. His grip tightened on Hermes’ hand, steadying himself as the two voices around him grew louder, more animated. Hermes was telling Telemachus a story about him, Aphrodite, and Ares.

“And then, no, really, Telemachus, she took the spear right out of my hands!” Hermes exclaimed, wings flaring slightly with the force of his enthusiasm. “You should’ve seen it! One motion! I was just standing there like,” Tiresias could practically hear the way Hermes was flapping his hand around, and they couldn’t help but smile. “And she just looked at me and said, ‘You’re supposed to be the god of thieves, aren’t you? Act like it.’ Gods, I thought I was going to die right then and there.”

Telemachus laughed, the sound bright and clear, and Tiresias could feel the boy's joy rippling through the air. “I can’t believe you got caught!” he teased, and Hermes squawked in mock offense.

“I did not get caught! I was biding my time! Strategy remember, I taught you that. There’s a difference!” Hermes retorted, indignant but playful. “Besides, you would have done the same thing!”

“I wouldn’t have gotten caught!” Telemachus shot back, his footsteps speeding up with excitement. “I’m much better at sneaking than you are! Besides, I don’t know if it’s strategy, Hermes. Lady Athena said it’s cheating.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, his wings flaring. “Well, of course she would. She resented being the one to train me cause I always got shots in on her.”

“Yeah, cause you cheated!” Telemachus teased back.

Tiresias could feel the energy bouncing between the two of them, like the air was practically crackling with it. He squeezed Hermes’ hand gently, letting the messenger know he was still there. Hermes squeezed back instantly, fingers wrapping tighter around his, grounding him. Tiresias smiled, the warmth of it stretching wide across his face.

He allowed himself to be tugged along, the rapid-fire chatter between the two becoming almost a background hum. He couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, head shaking just slightly. Gods, there’s two of them, he thought, the realization both exasperating and endearing. His fingers threaded more securely through Hermes’, not wanting to lose him in the rush of excitement.

Hermes felt it, his wings fluttering just slightly as he paused mid-step. He turned to him, giving Tiresias's hand a reassuring squeeze. “You alright, Starlight?” he asked, his voice softer now, a gentle contrast to the exuberant shouts of moments before.

Tiresias smiled, squeezing his hand back. “I’m alright, my love. Just adjusting,” they murmured, voice soft and filled with warmth. “You’re not going to leave me behind, are you?”

Hermes gasped, his wings flaring dramatically. “Leave you behind? Oh, Starlight, you know I wouldn’t dare. We’re together. Step by step.” His voice softened, and he leaned in just a bit closer. “I’ve got you.”

Tiresias smiled, nodding as he allowed himself to be led again. Hermes' grip was firm and steady, grounding him, keeping him from feeling adrift amidst the rush of sensation and life. He focused on the feel of Hermes’ hand, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly over his knuckles, like he was keeping a rhythm.

Telemachus had slowed just slightly, clearly eager but willing to match their pace. “Come on! Mother’s going to want to see you!” he called back, voice filled with joy.

Hermes laughed, his wings fluttering with excitement. “We’re coming, we’re coming!” He turned back to Tiresias with a grin. “Ready, Starlight?”

Tiresias squeezed his hand again, nodding with a smile. “Lead the way, my sweet bird.”

Hermes’ wings flared with joy, and he picked up the pace, still mindful of Tiresias’s steps, his hand never leaving the prophet’s. And so they walked, following the bright and joyful shouts of Telemachus, the scent of salt air, and the promise of a warm welcome waiting just beyond the hill.

They reached the palace and Telemachus opened the doors. 

“Come on, come on, come on!" He cried excitedly. Hermes felt Tiresias hesitate slightly.

“Go on ahead, Little Trickster. Tell your parents of our arrival. We need just a moment.” Hermes smiled.

“Okay. But don’t take too long.” He ducked into the palace. “Mother! Father! You won’t believe who’s here!” His voice echoed through the halls, fading as he ran deeper into the palace.

As his footsteps faded into the distance, the sudden quiet that followed was almost startling. Hermes slowed his pace, his wings fluttering with the remnants of excitement as he came to a stop beneath the shade of an olive tree. Its branches swayed gently, the leaves whispering in the breeze. The scent of salt and fresh earth filled the air, grounding them.

Tiresias stilled beside him, his hand still held tightly in Hermes’. They stood like that for a moment, just breathing. The distant sounds of Ithaca buzzed softly, voices carrying across the hills, the bleating of goats somewhere far off, the crash of waves against the cliffs. It was so alive. Tiresias tilted his head up, eyes hidden beneath the blindfold, but his expression soft with wonder. He took a deep breath, savoring the salt and brine, the hint of thyme carried on the wind.

Hermes turned to him, his hand slipping away for just a moment, and Tiresias’s grip instinctively tightened, fingers curling like he was afraid to lose the connection. Hermes smiled softly, reaching up to cup Tiresias’s cheek. “I’m still here, Starlight,” he murmured, voice soft as the breeze. “Just one second.”

Tiresias hesitated, then nodded, his hand dropping back to his side, though his fingers twitched as if wanting to reach out again. Hermes reached up, gently brushing his thumb over the edge of Tiresias’s blindfold. His fingers lingered there for a moment, his wings twitching slightly. “You…you don’t have to wear this right now, you know,” he whispered, voice tentative.

Tiresias tensed, his hands clenching at his sides. “I…Hermes…”

“No one here is going to hurt you,” Hermes promised, his voice steady, reassuring. “And I know it’s comfortable for you sometimes. But I don’t want you to hide because you feel like you have to.” His fingers were gentle, careful not to pull the cloth away just yet.

Tiresias’s shoulders tensed just slightly, but they forced themselves to relax, a soft sigh slipping free. “I didn’t want to frighten them,” he admitted. “The scars…they aren’t exactly a pleasant sight.”

Hermes frowned. “You wouldn’t scare them. They’d understand. You don’t have to hide. Everyone in this family bears scars. While they aren’t all visible, they all have them. They wouldn’t judge you for yours.” He whispered, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric.

Tiresias hesitated, their grip on the staff tightening just a fraction. “It’s just safer,” they whispered, voice almost too quiet. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

Hermes shook his head, his fingers moving to carefully untie the knot at the back of Tiresias’s head. “No one’s going to be uncomfortable,” he insisted. “You’re here as my guest. My family. They wouldn’t judge you. I won’t let them.”

Tiresias stayed still as Hermes unwound the blindfold, letting it fall into his own hands. Tiresias blinked, his eyes remaining closed, as if unsure whether to open them or not. Hermes cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “There you are,” he whispered, his tone impossibly tender. “My beautiful Starlight.”

Tiresias’s lips twitched into a faint smile, and slowly, hesitantly, they opened their eyes. Those pearl and silver, sightless eyes turned in the direction of Hermes’ voice and Hermes smiled.

“Is that better?” Tiresias asked, voice barely above a murmur.

Hermes leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Tiresias’s forehead. “You’re beautiful either way, Starlight,” he whispered, “but you don’t have to hide them from anyone.”

Tiresias exhaled slowly, letting his head rest against Hermes’ shoulder. “I just didn’t want to make a bad impression,” he admitted.

Hermes chuckled softly. “You? A bad impression? Impossible.”

Tiresias frowned. “Hermes,” they started, but Hermes cut him off, a finger to his lips.

“Starlight,” his tone was gentle. “My sweet, sweet prophet.” He murmured. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re probably the kindest soul they’ll ever meet. You couldn’t make a bad impression if you tried.”

Tiresias huffed a quiet laugh, their shoulders relaxing more fully. “If you say so,” they murmured, the faintest hint of a smile playing on their lips.

“I do say so,” Hermes insisted, his hand moving to gently card through Tiresias’s hair. “You’re perfect just the way you are. They’ll love you. Just like I do.”

Tiresias's cheeks flushed faintly, and they couldn’t help but nuzzle closer, basking in the warmth of Hermes’ affection. “Thank you, sweet bird,” he whispered.

Hermes smiled, his wings giving a soft, contented flutter. “Always,” he whispered back.

A soft breeze stirred the air, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the distant murmur of waves. Tiresias inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the scent and the feel of Hermes’ touch. Slowly, the tension eased from his shoulders, and he allowed himself to believe Hermes’ words.

The palace doors swung open with a groan, and Telemachus bounded back out, his curls bouncing with each hurried step. He paused just long enough to grin at Hermes and Tiresias before turning back, waving frantically. “Come on! Come on!”

Two figures emerged from the shadows of the doorway, moving slowly at first, as if afraid the scene before them would vanish if approached too quickly. Penelope’s hands were clasped over her mouth, her eyes shimmering with disbelief and joy. Her steps quickened, and then she was running, her skirts flaring out behind her.

“Hermes!” she cried, voice cracking with the weight of it. Her hands dropped from her mouth, and she closed the distance, practically throwing herself into his arms.

Hermes staggered back a step, wings flaring wide to catch his balance, but his laughter was bright and unburdened. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. “Lady Penelope,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I missed you.”

Her hands found his shoulders, gripping with surprising strength as she pulled back to look at him. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes’ eyes softened, and he reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek with gentle fingers. “I promised I’d be back, didn’t I?” he murmured. “I’m not one to break promises.”

Penelope laughed, watery and breathless, before she embraced him again, her head resting against his shoulder. “Welcome home, Hermes.”

He squeezed her tightly, wings fluttering with unrestrained joy. “It’s good to be back,” he whispered.

After a long moment, Penelope finally pulled back, her eyes shining as she turned toward Tiresias, who had been standing quietly, staff held firm in their hands. Her expression softened, her eyes turning inquisitive but kind. “And who is this?” she asked gently, taking a step forward.

Hermes’ smile grew impossibly soft. He reached back, catching Tiresias’s hand in his own and drawing him forward. “Lady Penelope, this is Tiresias,” he introduced warmly. “My Starlight.”

Tiresias dipped his head respectfully. “It is an honor to meet you, Lady Penelope.”

Penelope’s eyes softened, and a smile spread across her face. She took another step forward, her hands folded gently in front of her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tiresias.” Her gaze flickered back to Hermes, and her smile grew just a bit wider. “Anyone who brings Hermes that kind of happiness is welcome here.”

Hermes squeezed Tiresias’s hand, his wings fluttering softly in gratitude. Tiresias’s hand tightened just slightly in his, and they nodded. “Thank you,” they murmured, voice soft and reverent.

Penelope regarded them both for a moment longer before she stepped back, her eyes glimmering with joy. “Odysseus,” she called gently, turning to the doorway.

He was standing there, just beyond the archway, his hands braced against the stone, eyes wide and fixed on Hermes. His gaze was sharp and intent, filled with a thousand unspoken things. Slowly, he stepped forward, the lines of his face softening with each stride. He stopped in front of Hermes, his hands coming to rest on the god’s shoulders, firm and grounding.

“Hermes,” he said, voice thick with disbelief. “You’re here.” His grip tightened just slightly, grounding himself in the reality of it. “I can’t believe it.”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering with happiness. “I told you I’d be back, didn’t I?”

Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head. “You did.” His hands lingered for a moment longer before he finally stepped back, his gaze shifting to Tiresias.

There was a moment of silence, heavy with history. Tiresias stood tall, their head inclined just slightly, hands resting calmly on their staff. Odysseus’s expression flickered with something unreadable, his eyes shadowed with memory.

“Tiresias,” he began, voice steady but softer now. “I…we spoke in the Underworld. During my journey home.” His gaze dropped for a moment, the weight of those memories heavy in his eyes. “I didn’t treat you kindly.” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t understand then. I…I’m sorry.” His eyes lifted, meeting Tiresias’s unseeing gaze. “Your words were true. All of them.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and he nodded. “You carried the weight of loss and longing,” they replied, their voice gentle and understanding. “It is not my place to hold that against you.”

Odysseus blinked, a flicker of relief and surprise crossing his features. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice raw with sincerity.

Tiresias extended his hand, placing it gently in his, and Odysseus clasped it firmly, the gesture one of respect and acknowledgment. “You are welcome in our home,” Odysseus said, voice steady and resolute. “Both of you.”

Penelope’s smile grew, her eyes glimmering with pride. “We’re so glad you’re here,” she added, her voice gentle and welcoming. “We’ll make sure you’re comfortable.”

Hermes turned to Tiresias, their hands still clasped together. He smiled, his eyes shimmering with joy. “Ready, Starlight?”

Tiresias nodded, a soft, almost reverent smile gracing their lips. “Lead the way, sweet bird.”

Hand in hand, they followed Penelope and Odysseus into the palace, the sunlight spilling across the stone floor, shadows trailing behind them as they stepped into the warmth of Ithaca’s walls.

The palace was just as Hermes remembered it: grand and sprawling, with winding corridors that echoed with the whispers of long-forgotten tales. The stone walls were lined with tapestries depicting battles and feasts, the floors polished smooth by generations of footsteps. Sunlight filtered through high windows, casting gentle patterns on the stone beneath their feet.

Penelope led the way, her skirts brushing the ground as she moved with graceful familiarity. She glanced back every so often, a smile playing at her lips as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Odysseus followed beside her, his hand resting gently at the small of her back, his eyes flickering occasionally to Hermes and Tiresias with quiet consideration.

Telemachus bounded ahead, his energy boundless, his excitement palpable. He would stop every few feet to turn back and grin at Hermes before continuing on, his sandals slapping against the stone floor. Hermes chuckled every time, his wings fluttering with delight.

Finally, they reached a hallway lined with large, wooden doors. Penelope paused in front of one, her hand resting on the iron handle. “We’ve prepared a room for you both,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming. Her gaze flickered briefly between Hermes and Tiresias, her smile growing just a bit wider. “You can both rest here. I’ll send someone to call you when lunch is ready. I imagine you’d like some time to settle in.”

Hermes' wings flared slightly, the gesture unrestrained and joyful. “Thank you, Lady Penelope,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “This is…this is more than I could have hoped for.”

Penelope’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand brushing gently over Hermes' arm. “You’ve always had a place here, Hermes,” she said, her voice tender and resolute. “That will never change.” She turned to Tiresias, her smile gentle. “And you are always welcome as well. Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both soon.” She dipped her head in a soft nod before turning to leave, Odysseus following after her, his hand resting on her back. Telemachus waved enthusiastically before jogging after his parents.

When the echoes of their footsteps faded, Hermes let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His wings drooped slightly, and he turned to Tiresias, his hand slipping into theirs with a gentle squeeze. “Starlight?” he whispered, voice soft and reverent. “Are you alright?”

Tiresias nodded, their grip tightening around Hermes' hand. “I’m alright,” they murmured, their voice trembling just slightly. “It’s a lot. But it’s good.”

Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering just slightly. “Good,” he whispered. He reached out, pushing the door open with a soft creak. The room inside was spacious, the sunlight filtering through a wide window that overlooked the cliffs and the endless stretch of the sea. A large, soft-looking bed sat against one wall, and a low table was placed near the window, already laden with fruit and fresh bread.

Hermes led Tiresias inside, their hands still linked. He shut the door gently behind them, the noise muffled by the thick stone walls. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching out, soft and comfortable.

Then Hermes squeezed Tiresias’s hand a little tighter, pulling him gently toward the center of the room. “Here,” he whispered, voice reverent. He guided Tiresias to a seat, lowering him carefully onto the edge of the bed. His hands were gentle, his wings fluttering softly. “How are you feeling? Truly?”

Tiresias hesitated, their fingers brushing over the soft linen sheets. “I’m overwhelmed,” they admitted, voice cracking just slightly. “But it’s good. It’s everything you said it would be.” Their smile was soft, fragile. “The sun, Hermes. I can still feel it. It’s warm.”

Hermes' wings flared out wide, catching the sunlight streaming through the window. He knelt in front of Tiresias, his hands resting gently on their knees. “You did wonderfully, Starlight,” he murmured, voice steady and full of pride. “You’re here. You made it.”

Tiresias’s hand reached out, brushing over Hermes' cheek, his touch soft. “I’m here,” they whispered. “And so are you.”

Then Hermes broke, his voice shaky, yet full of wonder. “Did you see them? Did you hear them? They were so happy to see us. To see me.” His wings flared just slightly, a flicker of movement that brushed against Tiresias’s arm.

Tiresias smiled, his head tilting towards Hermes' voice. “I did. You were right.” His hand reached up, brushing over Hermes' cheek. “They love you very much.”

Hermes laughed softly, the sound bright and clear. “They do, don’t they?” His eyes shone with the realization, wings fluttering with restless energy. “I was so scared, Starlight. So scared that the dream was right.” His hands squeezed Tiresias’s gently. “But it wasn’t. They were so happy. They hugged me. They didn’t turn me away.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup Hermes' cheek, thumb brushing over the soft skin. “Because you are loved,” he murmured, voice steady and certain. “You have always been loved, Hermes. That hasn’t changed.”

Hermes' wings twitched, a shudder running through him. “I was so afraid,” he whispered. “That I’d lost them. That I’d lost this.” He gestured around the room, his hands sweeping through the sunlight. “That I’d never be welcomed here again.”

Tiresias leaned forward, their forehead resting against Hermes', the touch grounding. “You’re here now,” they whispered. “And you are welcome. You belong here.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his wings folding tightly against his ankles. They stayed like that for a long moment, the world outside continuing on unbothered. Within the quiet of their room, Hermes finally let himself believe that he was safe, that he was loved, that he was home.

~~~~

Lunch was laid out across a long wooden table, the sunlight streaming in through the open windows, casting warm, dappled patterns on the stone floor. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of salt from the sea breeze that drifted in.

Penelope and Tiresias were deep in conversation, voices low and steady, as if they had known each other for years. Penelope’s eyes shone with a familiar warmth, her hands occasionally brushing Tiresias's as they spoke, her laughter gentle and unforced. Tiresias, for their part, seemed at ease, their voice soft and patient, nodding along to Penelope’s stories with genuine interest.

Odysseus sat across from them, his gaze flickering between them, a small smile playing at his lips as he sipped from his cup. Occasionally, he would join in, adding a small comment or teasing remark that would earn him a playful nudge from his wife.

Hermes, on the other hand, was currently halfway across the room, wings flaring with wild energy as he demonstrated something incredibly animated to Telemachus, whose eyes were wide and sparkling with excitement. The boy hung on every word, nodding eagerly, sometimes jumping up to mimic Hermes’ movements, his laughter ringing out like silver bells.

Hermes leapt from one foot to the other, wings fluttering wildly as he retold some grand story of his travels, hands flailing dramatically as he described the thunderous storm he’d flown through “with the grace of a swallow and the speed of a hawk.” Telemachus gasped, his hands flaring out in a perfect imitation of Hermes’ storytelling. “Did you really do that?” he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

“Of course!” Hermes declared, puffing out his chest, head wings fluttering proudly. “And I didn’t even lose a feather!”

Telemachus laughed, practically vibrating with excitement. “I want to fly like that someday!” he said, his eyes shimmering with determination.

Hermes crouched down, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You keep practicing with that spear of yours, and you’ll be soaring through the air before you know it,” he promised, voice gentle but firm.

It was at that exact moment that Hermes decided to try and show Telemachus how to dodge a falling tree trunk (for reasons unknown to anyone but him). He ducked dramatically, flinging himself sideways with all the grace of a dancer, only to crash into one of the wooden chairs with a clatter.

Penelope and Tiresias turned simultaneously, voices ringing out in unison. “Telemachus!” Penelope called, her tone equal parts exasperation and amusement. “Hermes!” Tiresias chimed in, their voice carrying that gentle firmness that always managed to ground Hermes.

The room fell silent for a heartbeat before laughter erupted from both boys, Telemachus clutching his stomach as he doubled over, and Hermes sprawled out dramatically on the floor, one wing flopping over his face as if he’d been struck down by some great invisible force.

Penelope shook her head, a fond smile spreading across her lips. “I swear, you two are more alike than you realize,” she mused, her gaze flickering between her son and the god sprawled on her floor.

Tiresias smiled softly, turning back to Penelope. “It’s good for him,” they murmured. “To be so free.”

Penelope nodded, eyes shimmering with affection. “Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

Odysseus snorted into his cup, shaking his head. “My son’s going to be chasing after gods and diving headfirst into trouble before he’s grown,” he muttered, though his voice carried only fondness. “You’ll be the end of my sanity, Hermes.”

Hermes, still lying on the floor, pulled the chair off his legs and sat up with a grin. “I like to think I bring excitement to your life,” he shot back, wings fluttering playfully.

Odysseus only laughed, clapping a hand on the table. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Lunch continued, warmth and comfort filling the room. Hermes finally returned to his seat, a satisfied smile stretched across his face as he dug into the food, teasing Telemachus between bites and occasionally reaching out to remind Tiresias of his presence.

As the plates were cleared, Hermes stood, his wings fluttering softly behind him. “Before I forget,” he began, eyes glimmering with anticipation. “I brought gifts.”

Telemachus practically bounced in his seat, eyes wide and eager. Hermes grinned and pulled the small wooden dog carving from his pouch. He walked over to Telemachus and held it out. “For you,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I remember what Athena called you. It’s fitting. I thought you might like a little wolf of your own.”

Telemachus gasped, hands reaching out but pausing just before taking it. “For me?” he whispered, eyes flickering to Hermes, wide with disbelief.

Hermes laughed, tucking the carving into Telemachus’s hands. “Of course, for you. Who else?”

Telemachus stared down at the carving, running his fingers over the smooth wood, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick. “I…I love it.”

Hermes smiled, wings fluttering with satisfaction. “I’m glad.”

Next, he turned to Penelope, his eyes softening. He pulled the woven fabric from his pouch, unfolding it with delicate care. “For you, my lady,” he said gently. “You taught me how to weave, and I wanted to make you something in return. It’s not much, but…”

Penelope reached out, her hands trembling just slightly as she took it. Her eyes roamed over the fabric, fingers tracing the delicate patterns. “Hermes,” she breathed, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “It’s beautiful.”

He ducked his head, wings twitching shyly. “I’m glad you think so. I wasn’t sure if it was good enough.”

Penelope laughed softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice thick with affection. “Thank you.”

Hermes’ wings fluttered, and he turned back to Odysseus, the grin spreading back across his face. He pulled out the small windbag, holding it up for the King to see. “And for you, Lord Odysseus.” He waggled his eyebrows, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Don’t worry, you can open this one.”

Odysseus barked out a laugh, reaching for the bag. “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood,” he teased, untying the bag with deft fingers. He pulled out the small wooden ship, his breath catching just slightly at the craftsmanship.

He turned it over in his hands, inspecting the detail, the carefully carved sails, the lines of the hull. “Hermes,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. “This is incredible.”

Hermes shrugged, wings fluttering sheepishly. “I thought you might like it. It’s, uh, a little better than the last bag I gave you.”

Odysseus let out a genuine, hearty laugh, shaking his head. “Yes,” he agreed. “That it is.” He met Hermes' eyes, his expression softening with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Hermes' wings flared with happiness, his grin spreading wide. “I’m just happy to be here,” he murmured, voice softening. “With all of you.”

The room settled back into the gentle rhythm of conversation, and for a moment, it was as if Hermes had never left. As if he had always been here, at this table, surrounded by family.

And for Hermes, that was more than enough.

The lunch stretched on, the warmth of the midday sun spilling through the windows, illuminating the room in soft light. Plates were passed, stories were shared, and laughter wove itself into the very fabric of the afternoon.

Penelope was recounting a particularly humorous tale about a stubborn goat that had decided its place was not in the field but in her kitchen, much to her dismay. Tiresias, listening intently, chuckled along, his smile soft and genuine as they imagined the chaos.

“It chewed through three loaves of bread before I managed to get it back outside,” Penelope said, shaking her head. “Odysseus tried to shoo it out with a broom, but that only made it angrier. It butted him straight into the pantry.”

Odysseus, who had been sipping his drink, nearly choked. He coughed once, then broke into laughter. “You can laugh now,” he said, eyes gleaming. “But that beast was possessed. I swear by the gods, it had a taste for bread and blood.”

Hermes, who had been absentmindedly spinning his fork between his fingers, burst into laughter, wings flaring with movement. “Oh gods, I wish I could have seen that!” he wheezed. “The mighty Odysseus, felled by a goat!”

Telemachus, practically bouncing in his seat, added eagerly, “I remember that! You were stuck in there for ages! You were so mad!” His laughter was bright and clear, a sound so full of joy that it tugged at Tiresias’s heart.

Tiresias chuckled, leaning towards Penelope. “I must say, I’ve never heard of a goat being such a fierce warrior,” they teased, their voice soft and warm.

Penelope laughed, her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, you should have seen it. I almost thought we’d need to move out and let it have the house,” she replied, wiping her eyes.

Hermes leaned back in his chair, stretching his wings with a contented sigh. “I always did like goats,” he mused. “They’re stubborn. A bit like me, I suppose.”

“A bit?” Tiresias murmured, voice so soft only Hermes heard. The god turned, mock-offended, his wings flaring dramatically.

“Starlight! I am a model of patience and humility!” Hermes declared, his voice dripping with mock grandeur.

“Oh, is that what they call it?” Tiresias replied, brow raised. “I must have missed that definition somewhere.”

Hermes gasped, clutching his chest. “I am wounded! Betrayed by my own beloved!” His wings flared, and Tiresias laughed—a soft, delicate sound that melted right into the warmth of the room.

Telemachus, still grinning, leaned over the table. “Hermes, can you tell me the story about the time you stole Apollo’s cattle again?” he asked, eyes bright with mischief.

“Oh, not that one again,” Odysseus groaned, though his smile gave him away. “You’ve heard that tale a thousand times already.”

Telemachus turned to his father, expression determined. “But I like it!” he insisted. “It’s the best one!”

Hermes beamed, wings flaring just slightly. “Well, if the young prince requests a tale I am happy to indulge. Especially one that favors me instead of my ‘perfect’ brother.” He rolled his eyes. “I swear, Apollo thinks so highly of himself, it might be time I reveal some more secrets to knock him down a peg or two.” Hermes’ eyes flashed. Tiresias raised an eyebrow.

“And I’ll be sure to tell him that next time I see him.” Hermes froze, already knowing what sort of response that would get. He let out a sheepish chuckle.

“Fine, just the one story.” He straightened up, brushing off his robes dramatically. “It was a fine, sunny morning, perfect for mischief, I might add, when I, the most brilliant of gods, decided that Apollo’s herd could use a bit of exercise.”

“You mean you stole them!” Telemachus exclaimed, giggling.

Hermes grinned. “Borrowed, my boy. I borrowed them. And I was so very careful. No tracks, no noise, no witnesses.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “And you know what happened next?”

“What?” Telemachus whispered, eyes wide.

Hermes raised his hands, flaring his wings for dramatic effect. “Apollo came storming in, robes flapping, hair practically sparking with frustration. ‘Where are my cattle?’ he thundered.” Hermes dropped his voice to mimic Apollo’s, his expression exaggeratedly stern.

Penelope giggled behind her hand, and Tiresias’s smile grew. Odysseus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, but the glimmer in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“And of course,” Hermes continued, “I played the innocent. Little me, barely a day old -”

“You were only a day old?” Telemachus gaped, mouth hanging open.

Hermes nodded proudly. “Oh yes. Quick on my feet, even then.” He fluttered his wings with pride. “Apollo didn’t know what hit him.”

“He definitely knew,” Tiresias added, voice soft but teasing. “I seem to remember he chased you all the way to Zeus’s throne room.”

Hermes waved a hand dismissively. “Minor detail,” he replied, voice airy. “The point is, I gave them back and we’ve been the best of brothers ever since.” He smiled, but it faltered just a touch before he pushed it back into place.

Penelope, who had been watching with soft eyes, leaned forward. “You’ve always been good at mischief,” she murmured, her voice carrying a note of fondness.

Hermes ducked his head, wings fluttering shyly. “It’s…sort of my specialty.”

Odysseus raised his cup in Hermes’ direction. “Here’s to that, then. May we never run out of tales of your troublemaking,” he declared.

Hermes grinned, raising his own cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

Notes:

Oh my goodness guys. I've been waiting to post this chapter. Huge things coming soon!!!

I hope you loved this chapter! As always, take care of yourselves my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 35

Summary:

BONDING TIME!!!!!

As the laughter from lunch began to fade and the dishes were cleared away, Telemachus leaned forward, eyes bright with anticipation. “Hermes?” he began, voice barely contained with excitement. “Will you come spar with me and Father? I want to show you what Lady Athena has been teaching me. She says I may even be able to beat your trickery!”

Hermes blinked, wings fluttering slightly in surprise, before his grin spread wide and knowing. “She says that, does she?” he mused, glancing over at Tiresias with an amused glint in his eyes. He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. “Well, I do always find joy in proving Athena wrong.” Tiresias rolled his eyes.

Telemachus practically beamed, his excitement infectious. “I knew you’d say yes!” He turned to Odysseus, who was already rising from his seat with a knowing grin, stretching his arms as if preparing for the bout. “See, Father? I told you he’d want to spar!”

Odysseus chuckled, clapping a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “That you did, son. Let’s see if Hermes still remembers how to handle himself with a sword.” He shot Hermes a playful smirk, one that spoke of old adventures and shared secrets.

Hermes snorted, wings flaring just slightly. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m not as rusty as you may hope.” He shot a quick glance back at Tiresias, who had remained seated, hands folded in their lap with a soft, indulgent smile.

“Will you be alright without me for a bit, Starlight?” Hermes asked gently, his voice softening as he moved closer to Tiresias, their hand reaching out instinctively to brush against his own.

Tiresias smiled, their fingers brushing over Hermes' knuckles. “I think I’ll manage,” he replied with a chuckle. “Lady Penelope and I will keep each other company. Perhaps we’ll even talk about you.”

Penelope’s laugh was soft and inviting. “Oh, I’d like that,” she agreed warmly. She turned to Tiresias, her hands clasped neatly in her lap. “I’d love to know more about the person who’s managed to keep Hermes grounded.”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering playfully. “Be careful, Starlight. She’ll have you spinning tales before you know it.”

Tiresias tilted their head toward Penelope, smiling. “I think I’d like that,” they said gently, their fingers lingering just a moment longer in Hermes' grasp before letting him go.

Hermes gave them a parting squeeze, his eyes softening. “I won’t be long,” he promised, pressing a quick kiss to the prophet’s lips, and with that, he followed Telemachus and Odysseus, the sound of their excited chatter echoing down the hallway.

As their voices faded, Penelope turned to Tiresias, her smile gentle and open. “Would you like to sit in the garden?” she asked. “It’s quiet, and I’d love to hear more about how you two met.”

Tiresias smiled, inclining their head gracefully. “I would like that very much.” They took Penelope’s offered arm, the two of them moving slowly through the halls and out into the sunlight.

The garden was quiet and cool, shaded by olive trees and wisteria that spilled from stone walls. Penelope led them to a small bench beneath a blossoming tree, the scent of fresh herbs and wildflowers thick in the air. Tiresias inhaled deeply, their face softening with appreciation. “It’s beautiful here,” they murmured.

Tiresias settled back against the bench, their hands folded neatly in their lap, the sunlight filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows over the stone. Penelope watched them, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “So,” she began, her voice gentle but inviting. “How did you meet our dear Hermes?”

A smile curved Tiresias’s lips, soft and nostalgic. “Not in the way you might expect,” he admitted, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He was being a nuisance.”

Penelope’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned in, clearly interested. “A nuisance? Oh I definitely expect that then.”

Tiresias chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, yes. I had met him many times when I still lived, but he was always respectful, well mostly.” His smile widened, almost fond. “However, when I passed into the underworld, Hermes, who traveled between realms often, got wind of a new soul to bother.”

Penelope smiled warmly, her fingers toying with a loose thread on her gown. “I can imagine it,” she murmured. “What did he do?”

Tiresias leaned back, his expression turning wistful. “It started with small things. A voice just behind me when I was alone, whispering my name, only for no one to be there. Or I’d turn around, and something would have moved; my staff, my belongings, little things. At first, I thought I was going mad.”

Penelope laughed, covering her mouth politely. “That does sound like Hermes.”

“Oh, it was,” Tiresias agreed, his smile growing. “I remember one day, I had just finished preparing for a visit the day after. I was sitting comfortably in my cave, and I heard it. A soft voice.” He paused for dramatic effect. “‘Are you really a prophet?’ it asked me.”

Penelope raised her eyebrows. “He was just talking to you?”

Tiresias nodded. “Just like that. No body to match the voice, just that question, floating through the air like a stray breeze.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I, of course, did what any soul would do. I ignored it. But that wasn’t the end.”

Penelope laughed, leaning in closer. “Of course it wasn’t.”

Tiresias continued, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “The next day, it happened again. And the next. Always just as I was alone. ‘Are you really a prophet?’ ‘Can you really see the future?’ ‘What am I thinking right now?’” He chuckled, the sound light and airy. “I thought I was losing my mind.”

Penelope's smile turned soft. “When did you finally catch him?”

Tiresias’s grin grew. “Oh, it took me a week. And by that point, I was practically tearing my hair out. I knew it was a god, of course. No soul could pull off a trick like that. But I didn’t know which one. I was ready to call upon the Fates themselves to find the answer.” He chuckled, the sound soft and nostalgic. “And then, one evening, just as I was to retire for the night, I decided I’d had enough. I called him out. I shouted into the empty air, ‘Show yourself, you menace! Or I swear by the River Styx I will find you and drag you into the light myself!’”

Penelope gasped, her hand coming up to her lips. “You did?”

“I did,” Tiresias confirmed, his grin widening. “And then, just as I finished, there was the faintest shimmer of wind, the scent of fresh rain, and I heard the softest chuckle.” Their smile softened, voice turning reverent. “I couldn’t see him, but I could hear the way he moved. Barely a whisper of sound. He came close enough that I could feel the brush of his wings against my arm. ‘You really think you can catch me, old man?’ he asked.”

Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “I imagine that only made you want to try harder.”

“Of course it did,” Tiresias agreed. “And that was the start of it. He kept coming back. Sometimes just to taunt me, sometimes to ask me questions. Sometimes just to sit and listen while I spoke of prophecies and omens.” Their expression softened, voice turning reverent. “He became my friend. And I suppose, over time, something more.”

Penelope’s smile was warm and knowing. “He chose you.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and they nodded. “Yes,” they whispered, voice thick with emotion. “He chose me.”

Penelope reached out, gently placing her hand over Tiresias’s. “I’m glad he did,” she murmured. “I can see how much you mean to him.”

Tiresias’s smile trembled, and he dipped his head in thanks. “And he means everything to me,” he whispered.

Penelope squeezed their hand, her voice softening. “Thank you for telling me,” she said gently. “He deserves someone who knows him so well. Who sees him, truly.”

Tiresias tilted his head, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m grateful that you welcome us here.”

Penelope smiled. “You are both welcome here, as long as you wish.”

~~~~

The training grounds were bathed in sunlight, the air thick with the scent of dust and olive trees. Telemachus had led Hermes eagerly through the winding paths, past the bustling palace halls, and into the open courtyard where weapons were lined up in neat rows, polished and ready.

Hermes grinned as he surveyed the space, wings fluttering with excitement. “You’ve done well for yourself, Little Wolf,” he teased, turning to ruffle Telemachus’s hair. “This is a proper battleground.”

Telemachus puffed out his chest, grinning widely. “I train every morning with Father and sometimes even with Lady Athena,” he said proudly. “I’m getting stronger, Hermes. Faster too!”

Hermes chuckled, his wings flicking with delight. “I don’t doubt it. I could hear you barreling down the path before I even saw you.”

Telemachus flushed but didn’t deny it. “I’m getting better at being quiet,” he insisted. “I’ll show you!”

Before Hermes could respond, the soft shuffle of footsteps drew his attention. Odysseus was walking toward them, his stance firm and commanding, though his eyes were bright with something softer; pride, perhaps. “If you want to spar, you’ll need proper weapons,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re not planning to go bare-handed against my boy, are you?”

Hermes laughed, a bright, ringing sound. “I don’t know, I think I could manage,” he replied, wings fluttering mischievously. “But I suppose I shouldn’t embarrass him too much in front of his old man.”

Telemachus scoffed, crossing his arms. “We’ll see who’s embarrassed,” he retorted, a gleam of determination sparking in his eyes.

Odysseus chuckled, clapping his son on the back. “Go easy on him, Telemachus,” he said, though his grin suggested he expected quite the opposite. He gestured to the racks of wooden swords. “Pick your weapon, Hermes.”

Hermes eyed the selection, his fingers brushing lightly over the hilts. Finally, he settled on a slender, polished blade, its weight perfectly balanced in his hand. He spun it once, testing the weight, wings fluttering with approval. “Not bad,” he murmured. “Not bad at all.”

Telemachus picked up his own sword, slightly heavier, its blade nicked from practice but sturdy. He adjusted his grip, squaring his shoulders as he faced Hermes. “Ready?” he asked, his stance steady.

Hermes grinned, sliding into a loose, relaxed posture, the wooden sword resting easily in his hand. “Whenever you are, young prince.”

Telemachus struck first, his feet moving swiftly across the ground, blade swinging in a clean arc. Hermes blocked it easily, wings flaring just slightly for balance as he parried. The wood clacked loudly against wood, and Telemachus stepped back, eyes sharp and focused.

“Not bad,” Hermes praised, his grin never faltering. “You’re quicker than I remember.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Telemachus shot back, lunging again. This time, Hermes danced to the side, light on his feet, wings flicking just enough to give him the edge of speed.

“Clearly,” Hermes teased, easily sidestepping another swing. “But you’re still not fast enough.” He ducked, spun, and tapped Telemachus on the shoulder with the flat of his blade. “Point to me,” he announced cheerfully.

Telemachus scowled, but there was a fire in his eyes, the spark of challenge. “That was just a warm-up,” he huffed, readjusting his stance.

“Oh, a warm-up, was it?” Hermes laughed, wings fluttering. “I must have missed the part where you told me you were going easy on me.”

Odysseus, who had been watching with his arms crossed and a proud grin on his face, chuckled. “He’s still learning,” he said, his tone affectionate. “But he’s come a long way.”

Hermes shot him a grin. “That I can see.” He turned back to Telemachus, settling into a more ready stance. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”

Telemachus lunged again, and this time, he was faster, his movements sharper, more precise. Hermes was still quicker, wings flaring just enough to give him that edge, but he had to work for it, parrying each strike with a bit more effort.

“You’ve been training with Athena, alright,” Hermes acknowledged, blocking a particularly strong blow that sent a vibration up his arm. “She always did teach how to strike with conviction.” He spun away from another jab, tapping Telemachus lightly on the back. “Two for me.”

Telemachus groaned but didn’t back down. He squared his shoulders and swung again, the crack of wood against wood filling the courtyard.

Telemachus launched another flurry of strikes, each one stronger than the last. Hermes deflected and danced around each swing, his wings occasionally flicking to help him with balance, but Telemachus didn’t falter. He was determined, his eyes sharp, his movements growing bolder.

Finally, with a particularly well-timed feint, Telemachus managed to get past Hermes' guard, the tip of his wooden sword brushing against Hermes' side.

Hermes raised his brows, wings fluttering in surprise. “Well, well!” he exclaimed, stepping back with a laugh. “Look at that! A point to you, Little Wolf!”

Telemachus’s face lit up with pure joy, and he straightened proudly. “I did it!” he gasped, turning to look at his father, who gave him an approving nod.

“Indeed, you did,” Hermes agreed, twirling his sword once more. “But don’t get too comfortable. I’m still two points ahead.”

Telemachus grinned, brandishing his sword with newfound confidence. “I’m just getting started.”

Hermes laughed, wings flaring with excitement. “That’s the spirit!” He readied his stance, his smile wide and full of pride. “Come on then, Telemachus. Show me what else Lady Athena taught you.”

And so they danced; wooden swords clashing, wings fluttering, laughter ringing through the training grounds. Telemachus fought with all the determination of a warrior, and Hermes met him with the grace and speed of a trickster. It was sparring, yes, but it was also joy. 

Hermes and Telemachus danced around the courtyard, wooden swords clashing rhythmically, the sharp crack of impact punctuating each lunge and parry. Hermes moved with the ease of centuries of practice, wings fluttering with every dodge and sidestep. Telemachus kept pace admirably, sweat glistening on his brow, but determination bright in his eyes.

“You’re getting faster,” Hermes praised, deflecting a particularly well-aimed strike. His wings flared slightly, balancing him as he twisted gracefully out of the way.

Telemachus grinned, undeterred. “And you’re getting slower!” he shot back, lunging forward with newfound confidence.

Hermes laughed, catching the blade with a clean parry. “Is that so?” he teased, stepping lightly to the side. “Well then, I suppose I’ll have to–”

He stopped mid-sentence, instinctively twisting his blade to the left just in time to meet the sudden strike from a third sword. The force of it sent vibrations up his arm, his wings flaring to stabilize. His eyes flicked up in surprise.

Odysseus grinned, wooden sword held steady, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Thought you could have all the fun without me?” he asked, voice rich with amusement.

Hermes blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, I see. The king himself wishes to duel me,” he said grandly, wings fluttering with excitement. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. But next time, Odysseus, I’d appreciate a bit more warning.”

Odysseus shrugged, stepping neatly into the circle, sword at the ready. “Where’s the fun in that?” he replied with a grin. He looked to Telemachus, nodding approvingly. “You’re holding your own, son. Keep at it.”

Telemachus, practically vibrating with excitement, straightened his stance. “Yes, Father!” he exclaimed.

Hermes rolled his shoulders, stretching his wings out behind him. “Alright then,” he said, voice dripping with good-natured mischief. “Two against one? I’ll have you know I’ve had worse.”

Odysseus raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“Try Athena and Ares at the same time,” Hermes quipped, wings flicking playfully. “Now that was a proper thrashing.”

Odysseus laughed, low and hearty. “Well, we may not be gods, but I think we can still give you a run for your money.”

Hermes twirled his sword in his hand, stepping back to gain better footing. His wings fluttered excitedly, brushing the ground as he squared his shoulders. “Alright, then,” he announced, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Show me what you’ve got!”

Without warning, Odysseus lunged, his sword cutting through the air with precision. Hermes sidestepped, wings flaring just enough to keep his balance. But Telemachus was quick, darting in from the left, his blade aimed for Hermes' ribs.

Hermes twisted, catching the strike with the flat of his blade before spinning neatly away. His wings brushed the dust off the ground as he moved, light on his feet, always two steps ahead. “Not bad!” he called, parrying another blow from Odysseus. “You two might actually keep me on my toes!”

Odysseus grinned, advancing with steady footwork, his strikes clean and practiced. Telemachus mirrored his father’s movements, sharp and swift, the two of them working in tandem, like they’d practiced this a thousand times.

Hermes found himself genuinely impressed. Telemachus had learned well—his strikes were precise, his steps deliberate. And Odysseus, despite his years, moved with the practiced grace of a seasoned warrior. Together, they pressed him, forcing him to draw on every trick he’d ever learned.

“Oh, it’s not fair,” Hermes laughed, deflecting three blows in rapid succession. “You’ve both been practicing, haven’t you?”

Telemachus grinned. “Maybe.”

Odysseus swung low, forcing Hermes to leap back. “And maybe we’ve been waiting for you to come back and try your hand against us,” he added, eyes sparkling with challenge.

Hermes' wings flared wide as he twisted out of the way, blade coming up to block a high strike from Telemachus. He chuckled, breathless but delighted. “I didn’t realize I’d be walking into a trap.”

“Oh, it’s not a trap.” Odysseus lunged again, sword meeting Hermes' with a solid crack. “It’s an ambush."

Hermes cackled with glee, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Well then,” he declared, wings flicking proudly. “I suppose I’d better stop playing nice.”

He moved quicker now, weaving through their strikes, wooden blade flashing in the sunlight. He blocked Telemachus’s jab and redirected it into Odysseus’s path, forcing the king to stumble back just half a step. It was all Hermes needed to duck under the swing, wings flaring as he twirled gracefully out of reach.

“You’re quick,” Telemachus huffed, eyes wide with admiration.

Hermes grinned, blocking another strike with practiced ease. “It’s kind of my thing,” he said cheekily.

Odysseus chuckled, stepping back to catch his breath. “You’re certainly a slippery one,” he admitted. “But I like to think we’ve kept you on your toes.”

“Oh, more than that!” Hermes replied, wings fluttering with excitement. “You’ve both gotten stronger. I’m actually impressed.”

Telemachus beamed, lowering his sword just slightly. “Do you…do you think Lady Athena would be impressed too?”

Hermes smiled softly, his wings settling behind him. “I think she’d be very proud, Little Wolf. You’ve done her teachings justice.”

Telemachus flushed, pride bright in his eyes, and Odysseus rested a hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. “You did well, my boy,” he said warmly. “Very well.”

Hermes watched the two of them with a softness in his eyes, wings twitching slightly. “That was a proper sparring match,” he said brightly. “You two may actually give me a run for my drachmas next time.”

Odysseus laughed, clapping Hermes on the back. “That’s the plan,” he replied. “But maybe we’ll give you a break before the next ambush.”

Hermes grinned, wings flaring out wide. “I suppose I can allow that,” he said graciously. He stretched, brushing dust from his robes. “Now, what do you say we go find Tiresias and Lady Penelope? I’m sure they’ve gotten into all sorts of mischief without us.”

Odysseus chuckled, nodding in agreement. “I think that’s a fine idea.”

Hermes grinned, his wings twitching with excitement. “Lead the way.”

Hermes and Telemachus trudged back toward the palace, laughter still bubbling between them. Telemachus had a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and Hermes was still brushing grass from his wings, the little ones on his head flicking in excitement; he’d have to get Tiresias’s help with preening later on. Odysseus followed a step behind them, his grin wide and eyes bright with pride. His sword was still slung over his shoulder, and his hand occasionally reached out to ruffle Telemachus’s hair, prompting an indignant huff from the boy.

“That wasn’t fair,” Telemachus protested, his eyes darting up to his father. “You just jumped in out of nowhere!”

Odysseus chuckled, the sound deep and hearty. “In a real fight, you don’t always get a warning,” he replied easily, clapping his son on the back. “Besides, Hermes managed just fine.”

Hermes scoffed, dusting off his tunic. “I managed because I’ve sparred with Athena and Ares at the same time. Your father is a cakewalk compared to that.”

Odysseus raised a brow, clearly amused. “Is that so? I seem to remember you yelping quite a bit.”

“That was strategy,” Hermes shot back, grinning. “A yelp of strategic, uhh, maneuvering. Made you hesitate.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t falter. “You were pinned twice, Hermes.”

“Only because I let him,” Hermes sniffed dramatically, wings flaring out just slightly for emphasis. “Besides, I’m rusty. Haven’t had a good spar in ages. You should have seen me back in the day.”

Odysseus laughed, clapping him on the back. “I’ll take your word for it, old friend.”

As they approached the hall, laughter and soft conversation drifted from within. Hermes paused, tilting his head to listen. He shared a glance with Telemachus, whose eyes brightened with recognition. “That’s Mother,” Telemachus whispered, his voice conspiratorial.

Odysseus grinned, his hand still resting on his son’s shoulder. “And Tiresias,” he added, voice softening just slightly. “Sounds like they’re getting along.”

Hermes stepped through the threshold, his wings fluttering with anticipation. When they rounded the corner, they were met with the sight of Penelope and Tiresias, both of them in a fit of giggles, Penelope’s hand pressed to her mouth as if to stifle the sound. Tiresias was smiling wide, his head tilted back slightly as they laughed, the soft lines of his face crinkling with genuine mirth.

“Oh dear gods, he really did that?” Tiresias gasped, their voice laced with disbelief.

Penelope nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I swear it! Odysseus came stumbling back into the hall with half a sheep draped over his shoulder, yelling about how it had attacked him and he had no choice but to wrestle it down.” She broke off into another fit of giggles. “The poor animal wasn’t even wild; it had just been startled! The farmer was mortified!”

Hermes stepped forward, his grin spreading wide. “One sparring match and I miss a good story?” he teased, wings fluttering as he moved toward the table.

Penelope looked up, her smile brightening at the sight of them. “Ah, there you are!” She stood, smoothing out her dress and making her way over to the group. “I trust you boys didn’t destroy the field?”

Telemachus shrugged, his grin cheeky. “I wouldn’t say destroyed,” he began, only to be interrupted by Odysseus’s hearty laugh.

“Just a few well-placed dents,” Odysseus admitted. “Nothing that won’t grow back.” He set his sword by the door, stretching his arms as if shaking off the dust of the battlefield. “And I see you’ve been keeping my wife entertained,” he added, casting Tiresias a grateful smile.

“I’ve been thoroughly charmed,” she replied, voice warm. 

Tiresias inclined his head, their smile softening. “Your wife has quite the collection of stories.” He said to the king, then glanced toward Hermes, his hand subtly reaching out, and Hermes took it without hesitation, squeezing gently.

Hermes leaned in, wings fluttering just slightly. “Did you hear that, Starlight? Charmed. You’re already winning them over,” he whispered, just loud enough for Tiresias to hear.

Penelope ushered them all toward the table, a broad smile lighting up her face. “Come, join us. I’m sure you’ve all worked up an appetite.”

They settled down, Hermes slipping easily into the seat beside Tiresias, their hands still entwined under the table. Telemachus squeezed himself between his parents, still bubbling with energy from the sparring match. Odysseus reached for a pitcher of water, filling the cups and passing them around. “You’ve picked up a fine technique, son,” he said to Telemachus. “Though I’d wager it’s more Hermes’ trickery you should be learning if you want to best Athena.”

Hermes raised his glass in a mock salute. “I’ll teach you all my secrets,” he promised, wings fluttering. “Just be prepared for a bit of rule-bending. But you'd better prepare for one of Thena’s lectures. She has never been a fan of my style of fighting. Ares approved, but Thena…” He gave a fake shudder.

Penelope chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Telemachus’s hair. “He’s had plenty of practice with that already.” She turned her gaze to Tiresias, eyes warm and inquisitive. “And what of you, Tiresias? How do you find Ithaca?”

Tiresias smiled, his hand still gently cradled in Hermes’. “It’s more than I could have imagined,” they murmured. “To feel the sun again. The breeze. It’s more beautiful than I remember.” His voice cracked just slightly at the end, but Tiresias maintained his composure.

Penelope’s eyes softened, her hand reaching out to gently brush Tiresias’s arm. “You are welcome here,” she said softly. “Both of you. For as long as you like.”

Hermes squeezed Tiresias’s hand under the table, and Tiresias squeezed back. “Thank you,” they whispered, voice brimming with gratitude.

Odysseus leaned back, a grin spreading across his face. “It’s good to have old friends back,” he declared, lifting his glass. “To the return of family.”

Hermes raised his cup, eyes shimmering with joy. “To family.”

The cups clinked together, and for a moment, the world felt small and safe, brimming with the warmth of laughter and love.

Notes:

Gods I love writing the Ithaca family. Especially Telemachus (who I may be writing a bit too childlike…but honestly, he's reminding me of myself a bit). I really hope you guys are enjoying the Ithaca family as well!

As always, I hope you loved this chapter! Don't forget to take care of yourselves! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap cause you deserve it! And go take your meds if you haven't.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 36

Summary:

Some check in's with the people Hermes wishes he could see.

Apollo moved swiftly through the forest, his steps light and purposeful, sun-dappled shadows flickering over his form. The path was familiar; he’d visited Maia’s sanctuary before, back when Hermes was just a mischievous child, barely tall enough to reach Apollo’s waist. Now, it felt different, heavier, laced with unspoken grief.

“Maia?” Apollo called softly, his voice carrying through the stillness. There was a rustle of movement, a whisper of fabric against stone, and then she appeared.

Maia was as ethereal as she had always been. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like rivers of moonlight, her eyes the deep shade of evergreen forests. She stepped into view with the grace of flowing water, her gaze sharp and curious.

“Apollo,” she greeted, her voice smooth and lilting, carrying the echo of rivers and the rustle of leaves. “It has been some time.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve come alone.”

Apollo’s throat tightened. He stepped forward, his eyes softening. “I needed to speak with you. About Hermes.”

Her eyes flashed with hope, worry, and fear, but she remained poised. “Is he well?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I haven’t seen him, not since,” she trailed off, her hands folding gently over one another.

Apollo hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment. “He’s alive,” he began slowly. “And safe. He’s in Ithaca with Odysseus and Penelope. And he’s not alone.” He glanced up, a soft smile spreading across his face. “He’s got someone with him. Someone who cares for him deeply. Tiresias. The prophet.”

Maia’s breath caught. “Hermes is alive?” Her expression softened. “He found someone?” There was relief in her voice, a softening of tension that Apollo hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.

“He did,” Apollo confirmed. “And they’re good for each other. I’ve seen it.” He took a breath, bracing himself. “But there’s more.”

Maia straightened, her eyes sharpening. “What happened?” she asked, her voice firm. “Tell me.”

Apollo swallowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “Zeus. He confronted us.” Maia flinched, her hands tightening. “He was angry, furious, really. I stood with Hermes. I didn’t back down.” He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But he said things, Lady Maia. Things I can’t forget.”

Maia stepped forward, her eyes blazing. “What did he say?”

Apollo hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t soften the truth. “He said Hermes was not his son anymore.” Maia’s face went pale, and her hands came up to her mouth. Apollo continued, voice shaking. “He said he wasn’t yours, either. That Hermes no longer had a mother.”

Maia’s entire body tensed, her eyes burning with a fire Apollo had never seen. Her hand clenched at her side, knuckles white. “He said that?” she whispered, voice trembling with barely restrained fury.

Apollo nodded, his hands shaking. “He did. And Hermes…he stood there and took it. Bowed his head, kept his wings still. He didn’t even flinch. But I saw it, Maia. I saw it in his eyes. It killed him.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “He thinks you don’t want him. He thinks he’s all alone.”

The nymph’s eyes blazed, her fists clenched. “My son,” she breathed, voice trembling. “He would dare to claim my son is not mine?” Her voice rose, echoing off the stone walls. “After everything? After all I did to protect him, to keep him safe. He has no right.” Her breath came in shallow bursts, and Apollo saw something crackle in the air around her, the kind of old, raw power that spoke of storms and raging rivers.

Apollo placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “He’s in Ithaca right now. He’s safe, and he’s with people who care about him.” He paused, squeezing gently. “But he misses you, Maia. He thinks you don’t…he thinks you don’t want him.”

Her expression shattered, and she stepped back, one hand covering her mouth. “Oh, Hermes,” she whispered, voice breaking. “My sweet boy.” She turned sharply, her hands moving with purpose. “I won’t let him think that. Not for a second longer.”

Apollo watched as she moved swiftly to a carved wooden chest nestled beneath a stone ledge. She opened it, pulling out soft cloths, small vials, and items wrapped in silk. “What are you doing?” he asked gently.

Maia didn’t pause. “I’m sending him everything he loved as a child. Things from home.” She glanced up, her eyes fierce. “He’s going to know, Apollo. He’s going to know I never stopped loving him. Not for a moment.” She pulled out a folded cloth, soft and well-loved. “This was his favorite blanket when he was small,” she murmured, brushing her fingers over it. “He used to wrap it around himself and pretend he was a king.”

Apollo smiled softly. “He still does that sometimes,” he whispered.

Maia’s hands trembled as she reached for parchment and ink. “And I’m writing him a letter,” she said firmly. “So he knows.” She set to work, her pen flying across the page, the words flowing without pause. Apollo could only stand back, watching as she poured her heart onto the paper. Her hands moved quickly, the ink gliding in swift, smooth strokes. When she finished, she folded it with care, sealing it with her mark. “He will know,” she whispered, voice cracking. “He will know he is mine.”

She stood, gathering the items—soft blankets, small carved trinkets, bundles of herbs tied with ribbon. She placed the letter on top, sealing the package tightly. She turned to Apollo, her eyes bright with determination. “Find him. Take this to him.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with emotion. “Tell him I love him.”

Apollo stepped forward, taking the package in his hands. “I will,” he promised, his voice soft and steady. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

Maia stepped forward, her hands coming up to cup Apollo’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “For being there for him. For being his brother.”

Apollo’s gaze softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Always,” he whispered back. “I’ll get this to him as fast as I can.” He pulled back, stepping toward the entrance. “He’s going to be so happy to hear from you.”

Maia nodded, her hand coming up to her heart. “Tell him,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath. “Tell him I’ve never stopped waiting for him.”

Apollo’s smile was soft but full of promise. “I will.” And with that, he turned, the package tucked under his arm, determination in every step. He would find Hermes. He would make sure he knew.

And he would not let Zeus take that away.

Apollo stepped lightly through the shimmering halls of Olympus, the marble floors echoing faintly beneath his feet. The sky was its usual dazzling blue above, not a single cloud marring its perfection. But there was a tension in the air, an unspoken whisper that flickered in the eyes of those he passed. Everyone knew. Of course they did.

He kept his head high, his stride purposeful, though his fingers drifted absently to the skin near his thumbnail, a habit that had only grown worse since his last encounter with Zeus. His first stop was the Parthenon, its towering columns stretching up toward the heavens. He stepped inside, his footsteps muffled by the thick stone beneath him.

“Athena?” he called softly, his voice a whisper against the grand stillness. His eyes scanned the room, lingering on the shields and banners that decorated the space, each one a testament to her victories.

There was a flicker of movement, and then she appeared, stepping out from behind one of the massive statues, her eyes sharp and assessing. “Apollo,” she greeted, her voice low and measured. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He offered her a gentle smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m here to see you. About Hermes.”

Athena stilled, her expression turning guarded. “Hermes?” she echoed, voice softening just slightly. She stepped forward, her hand brushing over the edge of her spear as if grounding herself. “How is he?”

Apollo exhaled slowly, his fingers drifting back to his thumb. “He’s doing well. He’s in Ithaca now, with Odysseus and Penelope.” He hesitated. “And Tiresias.”

A flicker of surprise danced across her features. “Tiresias?” she repeated, brow lifting just slightly. “How did–”

“Hades.” Apollo’s voice was firm. “He granted Tiresias passage.”

Athena’s gaze softened, her lips curling into a faint smile. “I see.” She stepped closer, her hand falling away from the spear. “Is he happy?”

A smile tugged at Apollo’s mouth. “Yes,” he murmured. “He’s happy.”

Athena paused, and then, as if on instinct, she turned toward one of the shelves along the wall, her hands brushing over the various scrolls and trinkets. She paused on one, a small, intricately woven bracelet, silver and sapphire threads laced together in a delicate braid. “Give him this,” she said softly, lifting it from the shelf. “He used to wear one just like it.” Her eyes softened. “Before.”

Apollo took it gently, the weight of it familiar in his hands. “He’ll love it,” he whispered.

Athena’s gaze lingered on him, her eyes glimmering with something unspoken. “Tell him I’m thinking of him,” she murmured. “That I miss him. And that I’m sorry I’m not doing more. I’m not as brave as you, Apollo.”

“I will,” Apollo promised.

Their eyes met for a moment longer, and then he stepped back, slipping the bracelet into the pouch he carried. “Thank you, Thena.”

Her smile was small, but it was real. “Take care of him, Apollo.”

“I will,” he promised, and with that, he turned, stepping back into the sunlight.

The next stop was Aphrodite’s garden.

It was beautiful, as always, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of bees. Apollo walked the path lined with roses and ivy, his hands brushing against the petals as he moved forward. He found her near the center, kneeling by a patch of violets, her hair cascading down her back in soft waves.

“Aphrodite,” he greeted gently.

She glanced up, her eyes sparkling with surprise and warmth. “Apollo!” she exclaimed, standing gracefully, brushing her hands off on her gown. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He smiled, though it was softer, tinged with nostalgia. “I’m here for Hermes,” he said simply.

Her smile faltered, her eyes growing distant. “Oh,” she whispered, her voice dropping just slightly. “How is he?”

“He’s well. He’s in Ithaca.” He hesitated. “But he misses you. I know he does.”

Aphrodite’s eyes shimmered with something fragile and tender. “I miss him too,” she murmured, stepping forward. “Hold on just a moment.” She turned, her hand brushing against the vines that hung from the garden wall. After a moment, she plucked a single pink rose, its petals shimmering with dew. “This,” she whispered, pressing it into his hands. “It won’t wither. Not for him.” She smiled, though her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Tell him I still think of him. Every time I pass the riverbank where we used to talk.”

Apollo nodded, slipping the rose carefully into his pouch. “I’ll tell him,” he promised.

Aphrodite’s hands lingered on his for just a moment, her gaze searching his. “Keep him safe, Apollo.”

“I will,” he murmured, and with one last look, he stepped away, leaving the garden behind.

Ares was next.

The god of war was sharpening his blade when Apollo entered his domain, the sound of steel scraping against stone echoing through the chamber. Ares looked up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his brother. “Apollo,” he greeted gruffly, setting the blade aside. “Didn’t expect you.”

Apollo chuckled. “I seem to be hearing that a lot today.”

Ares snorted, crossing his arms. “Well, you’re here now. What do you want?”

Apollo’s gaze softened. “It’s about Hermes.”

Ares stilled, his jaw tightening. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine,” Apollo reassured quickly. “He’s safe. In Ithaca.”

Ares’ shoulders relaxed just a fraction, but his expression remained guarded. “Good.” He paused, glancing around the room as if searching for something. After a moment, he stepped forward, holding out a small dagger, its blade etched with delicate symbols. “Give him this,” he murmured, voice softer than Apollo had ever heard it. “He’ll know what it means.”

Apollo took it, nodding solemnly. “I will. He’ll be happy to know you’re thinking of him.”

Ares scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make it sappy,” he grumbled, but his eyes were soft. “Just tell him…tell him he’s still my favorite trickster.”

Apollo chuckled, slipping the dagger into his pouch. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

The last stop was Dionysus.

He found the god lounging in his usual manner, goblet in hand, eyes half-lidded as he watched the clouds drift lazily by. “Apollo!” Dionysus called, his grin wide and unrestrained. “Come to join me?”

“Not this time,” Apollo replied, settling down beside him. “I’m here for Hermes.”

Dionysus stilled, his gaze sobering just slightly. “He’s alright?”

“He is,” Apollo assured. “But he misses you.”

Dionysus’s smile returned, though softer. “And I miss him.” He reached behind him, pulling out a bottle of wine, the label shimmering with symbols Apollo didn’t recognize. “For him,” he said simply, pressing it into Apollo’s hands. “The last one we made together.” He raised his goblet in a silent toast. “To better times.”

Apollo clutched the bottle to his chest, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Dionysus only smiled, tipping his glass back. “Take care of him, Apollo.”

“I will.” Apollo promised. He stood, bowing his head in respect. “I will.”

With his pouch heavier and his heart lighter, Apollo made his way back toward the mortal realm, his thoughts lingering on the gifts he carried. Hermes would be thrilled, he knew it. And it warmed him to know that, despite everything, Hermes was not forgotten.

Not by his family. Not on Olympus.

Notes:

I know this was a shorter chapter, but its important for setting up the next few things that will happen. I hope you enjoyed it though!

Remember to take care of yourselves, my friends! Drink some water, eat food, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 37

Summary:

Hermes and Zeus have a…lets call it a chat.

The forest was quiet. It wasn’t the kind of silence that spoke of stillness and peace, but rather the kind that crawled beneath the skin and made the hair on the back of Hermes’ neck stand on end. The birds that had been singing moments before were now eerily silent, and even the wind had stilled, as if holding its breath.

Hermes slowed his steps, wings fluttering with the faintest hint of tension. He was alone, having slipped away from the castle for a walk. It was early, the new day had barely begun, the sun just beginning to stretch over the hills of Ithaca, casting long shadows between the trees.

 He hadn’t gone far; he’d promised Tiresias he wouldn’t. He just needed a moment. The ground was soft beneath his sandals, the grass cool and damp with morning dew. He paused near a tree, fingers brushing along its bark. His wings fluttered, catching the light just slightly. He took a deep breath, eyes drifting closed as he soaked in the morning quiet.

Then, the world had stilled.

It wasn’t gradual. One moment, the wind was whispering through the trees, the birds chirping high in the branches. The next, silence. A heavy, suffocating silence that pressed against his ears, flattening the world into something impossibly still.

Hermes’ eyes snapped open, wings flaring instinctively. “Who’s there?” he called, voice sharper than he intended. His hands flexed at his sides, and his gaze darted through the trees, searching the shadows.

A low rumble rolled through the earth, so faint it was barely perceptible. Hermes’ wings twitched, the feathers bristling. His breath hitched, and he took a step back, wings curling instinctively against his calves.

“Father?” His voice was barely above a whisper, dread settling heavy and sharp in his stomach.

“You call me that,” came the voice, low and crackling with power. It wasn’t loud, but it carried through the stillness with all the weight of a thousand storms. “Even now, you dare call me that?”

The shadows rippled, bending and twisting at the edges of the trees, and then Zeus stepped through them, his robes sweeping the ground, eyes like distant thunderstorms. He looked untouched by time, his expression hard and unyielding. His gaze landed on Hermes, and the weight of it pressed against his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Hermes straightened, wings flaring just slightly. He bowed his head, the motion shaky and foreign to him still. “Lord Zeus,” he murmured, voice tight. He swallowed hard, his wings shivering with tension. “What…what are you doing here?”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, his hands clasped behind his back as he took a step forward, the ground seeming to hum beneath his feet. “I could ask you the same, exile,” he replied, voice smooth and unyielding. “I wasn’t aware that Ithaca was now part of the Underworld.”

Hermes’ wings flickered, just barely. “I am not restricted in my travels, God King. I am here visiting family.” He lifted his gaze, just enough to meet Zeus’s eyes. “I have done nothing wrong.”

Zeus raised a brow, his eyes glimmering with disdain. “That remains to be seen.” He took another step forward, closing the space between them, and Hermes resisted the urge to step back. “You’ve grown bold, boy, wandering where you please, playing house with mortals.” His voice dripped with condescension, every syllable heavy with judgment. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That I don’t see?”

Hermes’ wings curled tighter, pressing against his ankles. “I’m not…I’m not doing anything,” he replied, voice soft but steady. “I’m just living.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not bothering anyone.”

Zeus’s expression darkened, his eyes sparking with the faintest hint of lightning. “Living,” he echoed, voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. “Is that what you call it? Playing mortal, hiding away in the shadows of Hades’ realm like a rat, scraping for scraps of affection from those who would sooner forget you if they knew what was good for them.”

Hermes flinched, the words hitting with the weight of a physical blow. His wings trembled, feathers fluttering weakly. He took a breath, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I have a place here,” he said, the words barely above a whisper. “I’m wanted.”

Zeus scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting. “Wanted?” He stepped forward, towering over Hermes, his shadow stretching long across the forest floor. “By mortals, perhaps. By Hades, certainly. But you forget your place, Hermes.” He spat out the god’s name as if it was something bitter on his tongue. His eyes gleamed with something sharp and cruel. “You are nothing but a discarded god. An exile.” His hand snapped out, gripping Hermes’ chin with startling force. “And you think you can flit around my son as if you still belong?”

Hermes gasped, his wings flaring out instinctively, but Zeus’s grip held him fast. His fingers were like iron, cold and unyielding, pressing hard into the soft skin of Hermes’ jaw. “I-I don’t–”

“Stay. Away. From Apollo.” Zeus’s voice was low and edged with danger. “You think I don’t see you? Clinging to him, begging for scraps of attention like a pathetic wretch? He is mine. Not yours.” His eyes narrowed, lightning crackling faintly along his fingertips. “I have already cut you from my blood. I will not hesitate to cut you from his.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings trembling violently. “He’s my brother.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he regretted it immediately.

Zeus’s eyes flared with sudden fury, and his grip tightened. “Not anymore,” he hissed, voice sharp and seething. “I thought I made that clear.”

Hermes' eyes shone with tears, his wings curling tighter. “F-Father–!”

The slap was quick and brutal. Hermes staggered back, wings flaring wildly for balance. His cheek burned with the force of it, and he clutched his face, blinking back the shock. His eyes snapped up to Zeus, wide and filled with disbelief.

Zeus straightened, smoothing his robes as if brushing off dust. “Do not call me that,” he intoned, voice steady and unyielding. “I am not your father. You are not my son. You are nothing to me.” His eyes flickered with cold disdain. “And you will stay away from Apollo. Or I will make sure your exile becomes far more permanent.” He stepped back, shadows curling around his feet. “Consider this your only warning.”

Hermes stood frozen, hand still pressed to his cheek, wings trembling with the weight of it. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Zeus turned without another word, the forest parting for him as he walked away, leaving Hermes alone in the stillness of the forest.

The silence retreated slowly, creeping through the trees like a cautious whisper. Hermes stayed where he was, hand pressed to his cheek, wings curled tight against his legs. He breathed in, shallow and ragged, the sting still fresh, Zeus’s words ringing in his ears.

“Not his son.” His voice broke on the last word, and he closed his eyes, forcing down the tremor in his hands. He had to go back. He had to pretend. Tiresias would worry. Odysseus would worry.

He sucked in a breath, straightened his back, and wiped his eyes. His wings trembled, feathers still bristling, but he took a step forward. Then another. Until the forest swallowed the silence once again.

Hermes straightened up, took a deep breath, and forced his hands to stop shaking. His cheek still stung, a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed with every beat of his heart. He took another breath, deeper this time, his wings fluttering weakly at his ankles and head. He reached up, brushing his fingers gently over the small feathers, wincing when they caught on a few twisted strands.

You are nothing to me. The words rang in his head, sharp and venomous. He shoved them back, burying them under layers of practiced smiles and easy charm. They don’t have to know. You don’t have to burden them. He smoothed his hands over his robes, straightened his posture, and took another steadying breath.

When he finally felt steady enough, Hermes walked back up the path, his steps lighter, more practiced, each motion slipping back into that old familiar rhythm. His wings fluttered gently, brushing against his calves as he made his way back to the main courtyard. He could hear soft voices. Penelope’s gentle hum, Tiresias’s calm, even cadence.

His heart gave a little lurch of relief. He was grateful they were together, talking. He didn’t want them to see him like this. Not with his wings mussed up, not with his cheek still smarting. Not with Zeus’s words still carving their way through his chest.

He rounded the corner and stepped into the sunlight, flashing a grin that was only a little bit forced. “I hope you two haven’t been having too much fun without me,” he called out, voice bright and cheerful.

Penelope turned, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Hermes! There you are. Tiresias and I were just talking about the tapestry you made. The craftsmanship is stunning.”

Hermes' grin softened into something real. “I learned from the best,” he replied, wings fluttering a bit more cheerfully. He made his way over, settling down in front of Tiresias, leaning back into their embrace. “I was wondering,” he began, voice softening, “if you could help me preen my wings, Starlight. I, uh, I might’ve ruffled them a bit sparring with Telemachus.” He chuckled, the sound light and easy, though his hands still trembled slightly.

Tiresias tilted his head towards Hermes’ voice. “Of course, sweet bird. I’d be happy to.” They reached out, hands finding Hermes’ shoulder first, gently moved up to find the soft wings on his head. Tiresias’s touch was always gentle, reverent even. Hermes settled, his breath softening as Tiresias’s hands worked slowly, smoothing each feather back into place and picking out bits of dust and dirt.

Penelope watched with a soft smile, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “He does seem to get himself into trouble rather quickly, doesn’t he?” she teased gently.

Hermes grinned. “Trouble? I prefer the term adventure,” he shot back, winking in her direction. He didn’t miss the way Tiresias’s hands faltered just for a second, as if they could hear the tremor in his voice. But Tiresias didn’t comment, only continued their work, smoothing each feather with delicate care.

The conversation was light, gentle. Penelope spoke of the new looms she’d had constructed, the finer threads she was planning to weave, and Tiresias asked questions in that soft, patient way of his. Hermes settled back, the gentle brushing of Tiresias’s hands on his wings soothing away the ache that still lingered in his bones.

A few minutes later, there was a patter of footsteps, quick and light, and Telemachus came bounding around the corner, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Hermes!” he called out, skidding to a stop. “Can I ask you something?”

Hermes chuckled, leaning back just enough for Tiresias to finish smoothing the last of his feathers. “Of course you can, Little Wolf. What’s on your mind?”

Telemachus hesitated, eyes flicking from Hermes’ head wings to his ankles, then back again. “Your wings,” he said finally, his eyes wide with curiosity. “They’re so small. How did you fly with them?”

Hermes laughed, the sound warm and bright. “Ah, well, that’s the thing about godly magic. It doesn’t always follow the rules.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice. “They may be small, but they were fast. And strong. Got me where I needed to go in the blink of an eye.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened, awe spreading across his face. “Really? Even with just those?”

“Even with just these,” Hermes affirmed, spreading his ankle wings just slightly, letting the light catch on the delicate feathers. “They may not look like much, but I assure you, they were something.” His voice softened just a bit, and Tiresias’s hands paused on his wings, their thumb brushing just slightly over the downy tips.

Telemachus stared, eyes locked onto the wings, almost entranced. “Can I…would it be okay if I touched them?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, reverence heavy in his tone.

Hermes blinked in surprise, but then his expression softened. “Of course you can, Little Wolf,” he said gently. “Just be careful. They’re a bit delicate.”

Telemachus’s hands moved slowly, as if afraid to break something. He reached out, his fingers just barely brushing the edge of Hermes’ ankle wing. He gasped softly, his eyes going wide. “They’re so soft,” he whispered in awe.

Hermes chuckled warmly. “Feathers tend to be, you know,” he teased, though his voice held a gentle fondness.

Telemachus moved his fingers just a little, marveling at the smoothness of the feathers. “Did it hurt when you…When you lost,” he trailed off, eyes darting up to meet Hermes’.

Hermes hesitated, just for a breath, then he smiled, softer this time. “Yes,” he admitted, voice gentle. “But it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

Telemachus’s fingers withdrew, his eyes bright and sincere. “I’m glad,” he murmured. He looked back at the wings, reverence still shining in his gaze. “They’re beautiful.”

Hermes’ wings gave a tiny flutter at the praise. “Thank you, Little Trickster,” he whispered. “I think so too.”

~~~~

The moon hung low over Ithaca, casting long shadows over the courtyard as the night deepened into silence. Most of the palace had long since fallen to sleep, the gentle hush of rest settling over the walls and gardens. But the training grounds were not empty.

Hermes moved through the space like a whisper, his wings trembling faintly at his ankles and head, the feathers ruffled and frayed. He had slipped out of his room quietly, careful not to wake Tiresias. He hadn’t been able to close his eyes without hearing Zeus’s voice, echoing through his mind, ringing like thunder. He hadn’t been able to breathe without feeling the weight of his father’s – not his father - he reminded himself – hand against his cheek.

So he went to the one place that made sense: the training grounds. It was empty, save for the scattered practice swords and shields leaning against the far wall. He moved like a shadow, his wings barely fluttering as he selected one of the swords, a well-balanced one with a sturdy hilt.

He remembered the way Athena had taught him to hold it, the stance she’d made him repeat a thousand times until it was burned into his bones. A small, bitter smile curled at his lips as he adjusted his grip. “Just like old times,” he murmured to himself, voice a whisper in the stillness.

He began with basic forms, leaning away from trickery, practicing honorable fighting, his movements fluid and steady. His wings fluttered with each motion, brushing against his calves, trailing soft whispers through the air. The blade cut through the shadows, swift and silent, as Hermes danced through the forms Athena had drilled into him. It was muscle memory, instinctive and familiar. He moved faster, his breath coming quicker as he lost himself in the rhythm of it. Strike. Parry. Step back. Spin. His wings flared with each motion, giving him the momentum to move faster, smoother.

The moon crept higher, and still, Hermes did not stop. His breath grew ragged, sweat beading along his brow, but his movements never faltered. His grip tightened, his strikes becoming sharper, more aggressive. It was as if he could cut through the memory, slice away the echo of Zeus’s voice, the sting of his hand.

“Not yours,” he whispered, voice cracking with each swing. “I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours.”

He struck harder, faster, the blade whistling through the air. His wings flared wide, catching the moonlight as he spun and struck, dust kicking up beneath his feet. His breathing grew harsher, more frantic, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until it was gone, not until the voice stopped echoing, not until he felt safe.

“I’ll never be good enough for you, ey Father?” He shouted into the night. “You did this to me!” He yelled, tears brimming, his movements becoming somewhat sloppier, but he corrected himself.

“I may never be good enough for you, but I’m good enough for Hades, Apollo, and Tiresias. I don’t care about your opinion any longer!” He drove the sword deep into the ground.

He breathed heavily, reveling in the feeling left behind. It felt good. Powerful.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, moving and spinning and cutting through the shadows. His muscles screamed, his wings drooped with fatigue, but still he did not stop. His breath came in ragged bursts, the sword heavier with each swing, but he kept going. He didn’t know how to stop. Not anymore.

Dawn was creeping over the horizon when the footsteps approached, soft and cautious. Hermes didn’t hear them, too caught up in the rhythm of his swings, the beat of his heart pounding in his ears. His wings fluttered wildly, almost erratically, feathers fraying with each desperate motion.

“...Hermes?”

The voice was soft, hesitant. Hermes froze mid-swing, the blade trembling in his hand. His breath was ragged, harsh in the still morning air. He turned, eyes wild and shimmering with exhaustion, wings drooping at his sides.

Telemachus stood at the edge of the courtyard, his expression wide-eyed and unsure. “What…what are you doing out here?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes blinked, his grip on the sword tightening just slightly. “I was practicing,” he murmured, voice cracking. He tried to smile, but it fell flat, brittle at the edges. “Just practicing.”

Telemachus took a step closer, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been out here all night?” he asked, voice laced with disbelief.

Hermes looked down at the sword in his hands, the blade trembling with the shake of his hands. “I guess I have.” He laughed, a broken, hollow sound that cracked in the dawn light. “Guess I lost track of time.”

Telemachus stepped forward again, this time with more confidence. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Hermes' arm. “You’re exhausted,” he said softly, his eyes glimmering with concern. “Come on. You need rest.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering weakly. “I just needed to be prepared,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I just needed to be ready.”

Telemachus’s eyes softened, and he gave Hermes' arm a gentle tug. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” His voice was firm but kind, leaving no room for argument. “You need rest. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his grip on the sword loosening. His wings fluttered softly, feathers brushing the ground as he allowed Telemachus to guide him back toward the palace. The sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as the sun broke over the horizon, casting long shadows behind them.

The soft morning light spilled into the halls of the palace, stretching long and golden across the stone floors. Telemachus’s grip was firm and steady, his hand resting gently on Hermes' arm as he guided him back through the winding corridors. Hermes' wings fluttered weakly, brushing the floor with every step, and his eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, heavy-lidded and distant.

Telemachus paused just outside the room that he and Tiresias had been given, his hand coming up to knock gently against the wooden door. It wasn’t long before it swung open, and Tiresias stood there, staff in their hand, trembling ever so slightly. Their head turned sharply in Hermes' direction, the tension in their shoulders bleeding out just a bit. “Hermes?” they whispered, voice trembling with concern. “What happened? I woke up and you…you weren’t here.”

Hermes swallowed, suddenly feeling small beneath Tiresias’s gentle gaze. “I just needed some air,” he murmured, voice hoarse and cracked. “I’m sorry, Starlight.”

Tiresias’s brow creased, and without another word, they reached forward, arms wrapping tightly around Hermes' form, pulling him close. Hermes stiffened for only a moment before melting into the embrace, his wings drooping against his ankles, his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder. “I promised Hades I would keep you safe,” Tiresias whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “You can’t just…you can’t disappear like that. I woke up and you were just gone.” His hand came up, gently cradling the back of Hermes' head. “I was so worried.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his hands curling into Tiresias’s robes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Tiresias’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened, his hand tracing soft, soothing circles over the back of Hermes' head. “Then wake me,” he murmured, voice gentle but firm. “I would rather be woken up than wake up alone.”

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, his wings fluttering weakly. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he whispered. “I just needed to get out of my head.”

Tiresias’s hand stilled, their thumb brushing over the back of Hermes' neck. “You are never a bother to me,” he said fiercely, voice filled with a kind of devotion that bordered on reverence. “I would walk the whole world with you if it meant keeping you safe.” His hand cupped the back of Hermes' head, fingers threading through his curls. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

Hermes sniffled, and Tiresias could feel the way his shoulders trembled just slightly. Telemachus, still lingering near the doorway, cleared his throat softly. “I, um, I found him in the training yard,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “He was practicing. All night.”

Tiresias stilled, their hands still cradling Hermes' head. “Practicing?” he repeated, voice soft and unsure. “For what?”

Hermes hesitated, his wings flickering nervously. “I just wanted to be ready,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to be strong enough.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and he pulled back just enough to press their forehead against Hermes'. “Oh, sweet bird,” they whispered, their voice trembling with tenderness. “You are already strong. You have always been strong.”

Hermes shook his head, wings fluttering weakly. “Not strong enough,” he whispered. “Not for him.”

Tiresias stilled, their breath catching. “Him?” they repeated softly, their grip tightening just a fraction. “Hermes, who are you talking about?”

Hermes flinched back, eyes going wide, his wings tensing at his ankles. “I-I just meant,” he stammered, voice cracking. “I just wanted to be ready. Just in case.” He offered a small, strained smile, wings flickering nervously. “That’s all. Just…just in case.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, they knew Hermes was hiding something, but it wasn’t the time to press. Their hands moved to cup Hermes' face, thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks. “You’re safe here,” he whispered, voice firm and unyielding. “You don’t have to fight anyone. Not here.”

Hermes swallowed, his hands still gripping Tiresias’s robes. He took a deep breath, nodding slowly. “I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

Tiresias pulled him close again, their arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. “Promise me,” they whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “Promise me you won’t do that again. At least not alone.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering softly, but after a moment, he nodded. “I promise,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly.

Tiresias’s grip tightened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to his hair. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft and relieved. “Good.”

There was a long, heavy pause, the air thick with tension and relief. Finally, Tiresias pulled back, their hands still resting on Hermes' shoulders. “You’re exhausted,” they murmured. “Come rest.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering softly, but when Tiresias guided him back toward their bed, he didn’t resist. Telemachus watched from the doorway, his gaze soft and thoughtful. He stepped back, letting Tiresias lead Hermes to rest, his eyes lingering for just a moment longer before he turned and headed back down the hall, the soft echo of his footsteps fading into the distance.

Tiresias settled Hermes down, smoothing the blankets over his trembling form. “Rest now, sweet bird,” they whispered, brushing a hand through his curls. “I’ll be right here.”

Hermes closed his eyes, his wings curling around his ankles, his breath evening out with each gentle touch. Tiresias stayed there, their hand moving slowly through Hermes' hair, voice soft and soothing.

And for the first time since that awful meeting in the woods, Hermes felt safe.

Notes:

Okay, so, big things happened. I hate Zeus (this Zeus) even more. Hermes is scared. BUT, in the next chapter, MORE THINGS HAPPEN!!!! (I may post it tomorrow cause I want to…wait and see)

Anywhoozzle…hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!! As always, take care of yourselves! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!!!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 38

Summary:

Apollo stops by to say hello…and a bit more

Hermes woke to the feeling of warm sunlight spilling through the curtains, pooling around his ankles and casting delicate patterns across the stone floor. His wings fluttered softly, instinctively stretching out before curling back against him. He blinked slowly, the heaviness of sleep still lingering in his bones, but there was a warmth beneath his cheek accompanied by a steady heartbeat.

Tiresias's arm was draped around him, their breath steady and rhythmic, brushing softly against Hermes' hair. Hermes was curled on their lap, head pressed to their chest. He stayed there for a moment longer, eyes half-lidded, soaking in the stillness. His hands curled into the fabric of Tiresias's tunic.

“Good morning, sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, his voice soft and unhurried. “You slept a little longer than usual.”

Hermes hesitated, but he forced a grin, turning his face just enough to meet Tiresias's gaze. “I guess I needed it,” he replied, his voice softer than he intended. He shifted, stretching his wings just slightly. “You didn’t miss me too much, did you?” he teased, though his smile was just a bit too tight.

Tiresias chuckled, their hand moving to trace gentle patterns along Hermes' shoulder blades. “Of course I did,” they replied, voice thick with warmth. “It’s not often I wake up without you flitting about.”

Hermes snorted, burying his face into the crook of Tiresias’s shoulder. “I’m not that restless,” he protested, his wings giving a tiny flutter.

Tiresias hummed, their hand coming up to cup the back of Hermes' head. “Only on days that end in ‘y,’” he teased, fingers brushing through Hermes' hair. There was a pause, heavy and gentle. “Are you alright?”

Hermes stiffened, just barely. He kept his face pressed into Tiresias’s shoulder, hiding the flicker of emotion that threatened to spill over. “Of course,” he replied, voice smooth and practiced. “Just didn’t sleep well. You know how it is.” His wings fluttered weakly, brushing against Tiresias’s side.

There was silence for a heartbeat too long, and then Tiresias's hand resumed its slow, soothing path along Hermes' back. “If there’s anything you want to tell me, you know you can,” they whispered, voice soft.

Hermes forced a smile, pulling back just enough to press a quick kiss to Tiresias’s cheek. “I know, Starlight,” he murmured. “I’m alright.” His wings flared slightly, shaking off the lingering heaviness. “Come on. I think I smell lunch.”

Tiresias raised a brow, amusement flickering over their expression. “I see. Food is what finally drags you out of bed,” they teased.

Hermes gave a dramatic sigh, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You know me. Easily bribed with Penelope’s bread and fresh fruit.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wings stretching out behind him as he straightened. “Come on,” he urged, holding out a hand to Tiresias. “Before Telemachus eats it all.”

Tiresias chuckled, taking Hermes' hand and letting him pull them up. “I suppose we shouldn’t let him get away with that.”

Together, they made their way through the winding corridors of the palace, Hermes' wings fluttering with each step. He led the way, his hand wrapped securely around Tiresias’s, guiding them with gentle touches and soft murmurs of direction. Tiresias held their staff in his other hand, the gentle tapping echoing through the hall.

As they stepped into the courtyard, the soft murmurs of conversation paused, and all eyes turned toward them. For a moment, the sunlight seemed to still, the soft sway of olive branches freezing in place. Then, Penelope’s face broke into a wide, relieved smile. She set down the bundle of figs she’d been sorting, standing with grace and extending her arms.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, voice thick with warmth. “Telemachus told us you’d been up all night. We were starting to think you’d taken root in the training yard.” Her eyes were kind, but there was a trace of worry that hadn’t fully left.

Odysseus rose from his seat, nodding approvingly. “I see you’re still in one piece,” he said, his voice carrying the edge of a grin. “But I have to say, Telemachus came back looking like he’d seen a ghost.”

Hermes laughed, though the sound wavered just a bit. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I promise I’m still breathing,” he replied, wings fluttering with just a bit more vigor than necessary. “I might have gotten a bit carried away. I figured I’d try my hand at honorable fighting for a change.”

Penelope stepped forward, her hands finding Hermes' shoulders, squeezing gently. “I’m glad you’re alright,” she murmured, her voice softening. Her gaze flickered briefly to Tiresias, and she offered him a warm smile. “Thank you for bringing him back in one piece.”

Tiresias’s smile was gentle but knowing. “He makes it difficult, but I try,” they teased, their hand slipping easily into Hermes'.

Telemachus bounded over from where he’d been sprawled in the grass, eyes wide and eager. “I told them I found you swinging a sword like you were fighting off a hundred men!” he announced, voice full of youthful pride. “You were moving so fast, I couldn’t even keep up!”

Hermes raised a brow, his wings giving a tiny flutter. “A hundred men, huh? That might be a bit much for me. I’d need Lady Athena and Lady Artemis’s help for that for sure..” He ruffled Telemachus’s hair, wings fluttering a little easier now. “But I appreciate the confidence, Little Wolf.”

Telemachus grinned widely, ducking away from Hermes' hand. “Well, maybe not a hundred. But at least fifty!”

Odysseus chuckled, motioning them both to sit. “Come, join us. There’s more than enough to go around. And I’m sure you could use something to eat after your midnight training session.” His eyes twinkled with good-natured humor. “Wouldn’t want you falling over before the afternoon’s even begun.”

Hermes shot him a grin, wings fluttering with relief as he settled down at the table, Tiresias slipping gracefully beside him. The spread was generous: fresh figs, warm bread, cheese, and slices of roasted meat still steaming from the kitchen. Hermes reached for a hunk of bread, tearing it easily and passing half to Tiresias. “See?” he teased, voice light. “I told you I’d be fine.”

Tiresias raised a brow, fingers brushing over the edge of the bread. “You did. But I’m still considering putting a bell on you.”

Hermes barked out a laugh, nearly dropping his piece. “A bell? Really?”

“It would make finding you at dawn a bit easier,” Tiresias quipped, their voice soft but teasing. “Or maybe I’ll enlist Telemachus as a tracker.”

Telemachus perked up immediately. “Oh, I could do that!” he exclaimed, nearly knocking over his plate in his excitement. “I’m really good at finding things!”

Penelope chuckled, reaching out to steady his plate. “Let’s save the grand hunt for another time, shall we? For now, let’s just eat.” Her gaze softened as she looked back at Hermes, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Hermes swallowed around the lump in his throat, forcing the smile back onto his face. “I’m glad too,” he replied softly, wings fluttering with just a touch more ease.

The conversation flowed easily, laughter spilling over the table as Odysseus recounted a particularly disastrous fishing trip with Telemachus. Penelope rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and even Tiresias chuckled quietly, their hand resting lightly over Hermes' beneath the table.

The sunlight filtered gently through the leaves, casting dappled patterns across the courtyard where laughter and soft conversation filled the air. Telemachus was still talking animatedly with his mother, recounting stories with a dramatic flair that had Odysseus chuckling into his drink. Tiresias was settled beside Hermes, their hands lightly resting atop one another, fingers intertwined beneath the table while Tiresias leaned into Hermes.

And then, a soft shimmer danced at the edge of the courtyard, flickering like sunlight on water before it swelled, growing brighter and brighter until it coalesced into a familiar figure. Golden curls caught the light, shimmering with divine luminescence, and the unmistakable presence of a god settled over the garden.

Telemachus was on his feet before anyone else had even processed what had happened, his spear in hand, eyes wide and wary. “Who are you?” he demanded, voice strong but edged with the kind of fear that comes from knowing you are standing before something far greater than yourself.

Hermes' wings gave a sharp, instinctive flutter, Zeus’s voice ringing in his ears.

And you will stay away from Apollo. Or I will make sure your exile becomes far more permanent.

Hermes tensed, remaining seated, eyes fixed on the figure across the courtyard. Apollo stood tall, his expression softening the moment his gaze settled on Telemachus. He raised his hands, palms up, a universal gesture of peace. “I’m not here to fight,” he said calmly, his voice warm and melodic, and Hermes flinched. “I come as a friend.”

Telemachus didn’t lower his spear, his eyes darting to his father for approval. Odysseus, while not hostile, was guarded. His hand settled on Telemachus’s shoulder, gently urging him to lower his weapon. “It’s alright,” he murmured, though his eyes remained sharp. “He’s a god. We show respect.”

Telemachus slowly lowered his spear, though his grip on it didn’t falter, his eyes flickering with recognition. “Lord Apollo,” he breathed, bowing his head.

Apollo smiled, brilliant and bright. “Hello, Young Prince of Ithaca,” he said, inclining his head. “I am looking for my brother.”

At that, Hermes stiffened. He swallowed hard, his wings giving a nervous twitch. Tiresias’s hand tightened around his, and Hermes glanced over, eyes wide and filled with something frantic. He leaned in, voice barely a whisper. “I need to go. Just for a bit.”

Tiresias’s brow furrowed, their head turning slightly toward him. “Hermes?” they murmured, voice low and cautious. “What’s wrong?”

Hermes' hands shook slightly as he pulled back. “I-I just need to step away for a moment. I’ll be back. I promise.”

Tiresias opened his mouth to argue, but then they stopped, their grip loosening. “Hermes.” But Hermes was already gone, wings curled tightly against his ankles as he made his way toward the path leading to the cliffs.

Apollo’s eyes scanned the gathering, a touch of confusion flickering across his features. “Wait, where is Hermes?” he asked, voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

The courtyard stilled. Tiresias’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, brow furrowing. “He just stepped out,” Tiresias murmured. “Toward the cliffs.”

Apollo’s gaze snapped to Tiresias, brows raised. “Did he say why?”

Tiresias shook their head slowly. “No. But,” he hesitated. “I heard it in his voice. He was afraid.”

The words settled heavily over the group. Penelope’s eyes widened slightly, glancing towards Odysseus, who was already frowning with concern. “Afraid? Of what?” Penelope asked softly.

Tiresias tilted his head toward Apollo. “Of you, I think,” they murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Apollo flinched back, eyes widening in genuine surprise. “Me?” he repeated, voice cracking with disbelief. “Why would he?”

Tiresias hesitated, head tilting as if listening to the way the wind stirred the leaves. “He’s been uneasy since yesterday. He went off in the afternoon. He was gone for hours.” Their voice dropped. “And when he came back, he was distant.”

Apollo’s expression grew darker, his jaw clenching as he absorbed the words. “Where did he go?”

Tiresias pointed toward the cliffs, his hand steady despite the tremor in his voice. “That way.”

Apollo straightened, his form shimmering slightly with divine energy. He gave a quick nod to the others. “I’ll find him.” And with that, he turned, his strides long and purposeful as he moved toward the edge of the cliffs where Tiresias had gestured.

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, the echo of Apollo’s departure lingering in the air. Penelope reached out, placing a gentle hand on Tiresias’s arm. “Do you think he’s alright?” she asked, her voice soft and full of concern.

Tiresias didn’t answer right away. They leaned back slightly, their hands still resting where Hermes had left them. “I don’t know,” they whispered finally. “But I trust Apollo to bring him back.”

“Trust a god? What if they take Hermes away next? Like they took you.” Telemachus’s voice shook with worry. He gripped his father’s arm, staring up at him with fear-filled eyes. Odysseus pulled the boy into his arms.

“Don’t worry, son. He’ll be just fine.” Odysseus reassured.

“Apollo is kind. He really cares about Hermes, don’t worry. He’ll find him.” Tiresias added, placing a grounding hand on Telemachus’s back.

Penelope crossed her arms, her gaze firm. “If something’s going on we’ll get to the bottom of it. Hermes is safe here. We’ll make sure of it.”

Tiresias nodded, but their hand trembled just slightly as they clasped it in their lap. “I hope so,” they murmured.

~~~~

The cliffs were quiet, the waves crashing below in a steady, rhythmic lull. Hermes stood near the edge, his wings fluttering weakly, the soft rustle of feathers lost in the roar of the sea. He stared out over the water, hands clenched at his sides, shoulders taut with tension. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, unblinking, as if afraid that if he looked away, it would all come crashing down.

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, familiar, threaded with warmth and concern. Hermes flinched, wings giving a sharp flicker as he turned, eyes wide and guarded.

Apollo stood just a few paces away, his hands held up in a gesture of peace. “It’s just me,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “I’m not here to fight, Herms.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings curling in on themselves. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, voice tight and trembling. “You need to go.”

Apollo’s brow furrowed, and he took a careful step forward. “Go?” he repeated, confusion threading his voice. “Why would I go? I came to see you, Hermes. I wanted to–”

“No!” Hermes' voice cracked, sharp and sudden. He stumbled back a step, nearly losing his footing on the uneven rock. His head wings flared with the movement, flapping desperately for balance. “You can’t be here. Not with me. It’s not…you’re not safe.”

Apollo’s expression softened, his eyes searching Hermes' face. “Not safe?” he repeated, his voice gentler still. “Hermes, what are you talking about?”

Hermes' hands curled into fists, his wings fluttering frantically. “You don’t understand,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “If he finds out, if he sees us together, I don’t know what he’ll do.” His breath shuddered, and he looked away, eyes darting back to the ocean. “You have to go, Apollo. Please.”

Apollo’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. He took another step forward, his hands dropping to his sides. “Who?” he asked, his voice low and steady. “Who’s going to do something? Who’s making you this scared?”

Hermes shook his head, his wings trembling. “You already know.” His voice broke on the last word, and his shoulders hunched inward, curling defensively. “I’m not supposed to be with you. I’m not supposed to…he told me. He said if he saw me with you again…” He swallowed thickly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “I don’t want you hurt, Polly.”

Apollo’s expression shattered, his eyes going soft and wounded. “Hermes,” he whispered, taking another step forward, reaching out cautiously. “Did he find you?” His voice was impossibly gentle, threaded with pain. “Did he come here?”

“Nothing happened.” Hermes’ voice was cold, empty. Apollo frowned, stepping closer once more. Hermes’ wings flared.

“STOP!” he cried, stepping back again, but this time, there wasn’t ground beneath his feet.

The world tilted. The edge of the cliff crumbled beneath his heel, and for a heartbeat, for one single, suspended moment, Hermes hung there, weightless, suspended in the fragile space between air and earth. His wings flared instinctively, flapping desperately, feathers catching the wind with wild, uncoordinated beats. But it wasn’t enough. His wings weren’t enough.

The cliffs blurred, sunlight streaking past him in frantic flashes, the world spiraling and twisting. His wings beat harder, desperation bleeding through every frantic flutter. But there was no lift, no resistance, just the harsh slap of wind against feathers that weren’t strong enough to catch him. His hands clawed at the air, grasping for anything, anything to hold onto–

“Hermes!”

Strong hands seized him, the momentum jerking him backwards. Hermes gasped as the world snapped back into focus, the weight of Apollo’s arms grounding him, steadying him, hauling him up from the edge. They tumbled back onto solid ground, the earth hard and unyielding beneath them. Hermes lay there, chest heaving, wings splayed out awkwardly around him, feathers bent and mussed. His hands were still clutching at Apollo’s arms, fingers curled tight enough to leave marks.

Apollo didn’t let go. His grip was iron-clad, firm and steady, holding Hermes against his chest. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice shaking but resolute. “I’ve got you, Herms.”

Hermes shuddered, wings twitching weakly as he clung tighter, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. He wanted to laugh it off, brush it away with some casual quip, but his throat wouldn’t work. He just pressed his forehead against Apollo’s shoulder, letting the warmth and the steady rise and fall of Apollo’s breathing tether him back to the present.

Apollo’s hand came up, gentle and slow, brushing against the back of Hermes' head, cradling him like he was something fragile. “What is going on, brother?” he murmured, voice softer now, laced with something raw and aching. “You’re not acting right.”

Hermes flinched, his wings curling tighter against his back. He tried to pull away, but Apollo’s hands were firm, grounding him. “I’m fine,” he choked out, but it was a brittle, hollow sound that neither of them believed.

Apollo’s eyes softened, and he didn’t let go. “No, Hermes. Tell me. Stop running. Let me in.” He urged, his voice low and steady, his hands still gentle, holding him steady but never trapping him. He sat up, still keeping Hermes held securely in his arms, as if afraid he might run away.

Hermes felt Apollo’s hands tighten on his shoulders, not harshly, but firm enough to keep him from leaving. Apollo’s eyes were wide and searching, flickering with worry and something sharper, something protective. Hermes couldn’t bring himself to meet that gaze for long; his own eyes kept darting back to the horizon, wings trembling at his ankles.

“Talk to me,” Apollo murmured, his voice soft and aching. “Hermes…please.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his hands twisting into the fabric of Apollo’s tunic. “I told you. Nothing happened. I’m fine.” His voice was steady, but his wings gave him away, flickering with each ragged breath.

Apollo’s hands slid to cup Hermes' face, thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “I know you,” he whispered. “I can tell when you’re hurting. Just tell me what happened. Let me help. Please.”

Hermes flinched, wings curling in. “You can’t help,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s just…you shouldn’t be here.” His breath hitched, and he tried to pull back, but Apollo held firm. “You’re not supposed to be near me. It’s…it’s not safe.”

Apollo’s eyes darkened, his grip steady. “Who told you that?”

Hermes hesitated, his eyes dropping. “You know who.” His voice was so soft, the wind almost took it.

Apollo’s breath shuddered out, and his hands tightened just slightly. “He was here,” he said, more statement than question. “Zeus came here.”

Hermes swallowed, nodding once, wings fluttering weakly. He wouldn’t look up. “It’s fine. I’m fine. He just…he just talked.”

“Talked?” Apollo echoed, voice taut. “You’re shaking.”

Apollo’s hands were impossibly gentle, pulling him just a little closer. “Tell me what he said.”

Hermes' shoulders hunched, wings curling tight. He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Hermes looked up then, eyes shimmering with something raw and vulnerable. “He…he said I wasn’t his. Not anymore. That I wasn’t…that I wasn’t yours either.” His breath hitched, voice cracking on the last word. “He said if he saw us together again…he’d make sure I couldn’t come back.”

Apollo’s hands stilled, his eyes blazing with something unrestrained. “He threatened you?”

Hermes flinched, wings flickering. “That’s not new,” he whispered. His hands came up to clutch Apollo’s sleeves, shaking. “But you don’t understand. He means it. He–” Hermes' voice broke, his eyes going wide and glassy. “He hit me.”

Apollo froze, every muscle in his body going taut. “What?”

Hermes' breath came faster, shoulders curling in. “I-I tried to say it wasn’t his decision. I said you were still my brother. I said I wasn’t alone. And he…” Hermes' hand came up, brushing his cheek as if the memory still stung. His ankle wings fluttered desperately, brushing the ground. “It happened so fast.”

Apollo’s jaw clenched, his hands still cupping Hermes' face. “Hermes, you should have told me. Have you told Tiresias?” Hermes shook his head.

Apollo’s eyes flickered with disbelief, his grip steady and grounding on Hermes' shoulders. “Why not?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper, like he was afraid anything louder would shatter Hermes right there on the cliffs.

Hermes' wings twitched, feathers ruffling slightly before settling back against his calves. He turned his gaze away, fixing it somewhere over Apollo’s shoulder. “I don’t…I don’t want them to worry,” he murmured, voice cracking just slightly. “Tiresias, they already…they do so much for me.” His hands twisted into Apollo’s tunic, fingers gripping tight. “I can’t…I can’t add more to that. I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”

Apollo’s gaze softened, and he shook his head. “Hermes,” he began gently, his thumb brushing along Hermes' cheek where Zeus’s hand had struck. “Tiresias loves you. He’d want to know. You know that.”

Hermes flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. His wings fluttered once, like a heartbeat, then stilled. “I know,” he whispered. “But I’m just…I’m so tired of being the one who needs help. I’m not even…I’m not a god anymore, Apollo.” His voice broke, the words spilling out like a confession. “I’m not a god, but I’m still getting you in trouble. I’m still putting you in danger. I just…” His breath hitched, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t want him to take you away.”

Apollo’s hands moved to cradle his head, thumbs brushing over Hermes' temples. “He won’t,” Apollo promised, his voice steady and sure. “He won’t take me away from you. I won’t let him.”

Hermes' eyes fluttered open, glassy and uncertain. “You can’t stop him,” he whispered, voice cracking on the last word. “He’s Zeus. He. He’s the King of the Gods. If he wants to…” His voice faded, and his wings fluttered weakly. “I’m scared, Polly.”

Apollo’s hands stilled, his expression going soft and heartbreakingly tender. “I know you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re not alone. Not anymore.” He tilted Hermes' head up, meeting his eyes. “You’ve got me. You’ve got Tiresias. You’ve got Ithaca. We’re not going to let him take you away from us.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, and his grip on Apollo’s tunic tightened. “I don’t…how do you know?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Apollo smiled, soft and unyielding. “Because I won’t let him.” His hands dropped to Hermes' shoulders, squeezing gently. “I promise, Hermes. I’m not leaving you.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering softly. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can.” Apollo’s voice was firm, resolute. “I’ve seen too many things to doubt the power of choice. And I choose to stay. With you. With Tiresias. With the family you’ve found here.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Hermes'. “I won’t leave. Not again.”

The words washed over Hermes like a warm breeze, filling the cracks that had been left by Zeus’s shadow. His breath came out shaky, but for the first time since he’d been struck, it felt like he could finally breathe. His wings fluttered again, this time with a bit more strength, brushing against the ground.

Apollo leaned back just enough to meet Hermes' gaze, his eyes softening. “Come back with me,” he urged gently. “Let me walk you back to Tiresias. They’ve been worried, you know.”

Hermes hesitated, his gaze drifting back out toward the ocean, the cliffs stretching endlessly before him. He swallowed hard, wings flickering weakly at his ankles. “I don’t want them to know,” he murmured, voice cracking. “They’ll just…they’ll worry.”

Apollo’s hands found his again, fingers curling securely around Hermes' own. “Maybe they will,” he admitted, his voice softening. “But that’s what love is, Hermes. It’s worrying. It’s caring.” He squeezed his hands gently. “And I think Tiresias would rather worry and know you’re safe than not know at all.”

Hermes stared down at their intertwined hands, his breath shaking. He swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he whispered, barely above a breath. “Okay.”

Apollo smiled, soft and warm. He released one of Hermes' hands only to wrap an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close. “Come on, little wing,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. “Let’s go home.”

Hermes hesitated just for a moment, his gaze lingering on the horizon, but then he turned, leaning into Apollo’s side. His ankle wings brushed the ground as they walked, but they felt just a bit lighter, a bit stronger.

Finally, Apollo cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, his voice gentle, almost hesitant. Hermes turned, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “I, uh, I went to see Maia.”

“Mother?” Hermes seemed hesitant to voice the word. Apollo nodded.

Apollo nodded, his gaze softening. “I did. I told her where you were. That you were safe.” He hesitated. “I told her what Zeus said.”

Hermes flinched, his wings curling inward instinctively. “Oh,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

“She got angry,” Apollo continued gently. “Very angry. She wouldn’t hear a word of it.” He held a small bundle out, his smile turning soft. “She wanted you to have these. She was very insistent that you know you are hers. That you always have been. She sent them for you.” Apollo said softly.

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering. “For me?” he repeated, surprise threading his voice.

Hermes stared at the bundle, hands hovering just above it. His breath came out in shallow bursts, disbelief and hope warring across his face.

Apollo smiled softly. “Open it.”

With trembling hands, Hermes pulled the twine loose, fingers gentle and reverent as he unwrapped the cloth. The first thing he saw was the blanket; soft and worn, the color faded from years of use. His breath hitched sharply, and his fingers curled around the edge, clutching it tightly.

“My blanket,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I-I thought it was gone.” His hands shook as he lifted it, pressing the worn fabric to his face. It still smelled like the caves he’d grown up in, like herbs and fresh rain. “She kept it.”

“Of course, she did,” Apollo murmured. “She kept everything of yours, Hermes. She was waiting for you to come back.”

Hermes' wings fluttered weakly, and he sniffed, brushing his hand against his cheek. He carefully folded the blanket back, his fingers shaking slightly as he pulled out the next item, a small wooden carving of a fox. His breath stilled. “I made this,” he whispered, voice cracking. “When I was just a boy. I didn’t think she’d kept it.”

Apollo smiled softly. “She did. She kept everything you made. I saw them all when I was there. She kept them all for you. Because she loves you.” His hand settled on Hermes' shoulder. “She’s never stopped waiting for you,” he whispered. “She wanted you to know that.”

Hermes' eyes shimmered with tears, his fingers clutching the fox so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice raw and fragile. “Thank you for going to see her.”

Apollo smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “Of course,” he murmured. “It was needed. And that’s not all.” He reached back into his satchel, pulling out a bundle of notes and gifts, each one carefully folded and sealed with wax. Hermes' eyes widened, and his hands shook as he reached for them.

“What…what is this?” he whispered.

“Notes,” Apollo replied. “From her. And from your family.” He smiled softly. “You’re not as forgotten as you think, Hermes.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings fluttering gently. He stared down at the bundle of notes, his breath coming in soft, uneven bursts. “They…they wrote to me?”

“They did,” Apollo said, his voice steady and warm. “I visited them. Athena, Aphrodite, Ares, Dionysus…they all miss you. They all wanted you to know that.” He paused, his voice softening. “You’re still loved, Hermes. Even up there.”

Hermes' hands trembled as he held the bundle of notes and gifts close to his chest. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his breath shook as he took it all in. “I didn’t…I thought…” He squeezed his eyes shut, a tear slipping free. “I thought I was alone.”

Apollo’s hand rested firmly on his shoulder, grounding him. “You’re not,” he whispered. “Not now. Not anymore.”

Hermes nodded, his hands tightening around the bundle of notes. His wings flared just slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in his eyes. “Can…can I read them?”

Apollo chuckled softly. “Of course, you can. I think they’d want you to.”

Hermes smiled, a real smile, bright and full of something that had been missing for so long, the bundle of notes still clutched tightly to his chest. He looked up at Apollo, eyes shining. “Will you stay with me?”

Apollo smiled gently. “Of course, little brother,” he said. 

Hermes' hands were still shaking as he reached for the first note, breaking the seal with careful fingers. He unfolded the paper, his breath catching as his eyes scanned the words, and the world grew silent around them.

Apollo stayed by his side the whole time, watching as Hermes read and opened the gifts, watching the way his eyes lit up with each familiar signature, with every word of love and longing. He watched the way Hermes clutched each note as if it were made of gold, the way his wings fluttered just slightly with every name he whispered aloud.

And when Hermes was finished, he turned back to Apollo, his eyes bright and brimming with life. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice trembling with gratitude. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”

Notes:

Okay, again, I love big brother Apollo. He's such a sweetie.

As always, hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!! Take care of yourselves my friends! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!!!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 39

Summary:

Bonding time with a little hint of angst

Apollo stayed beside Hermes as he read each letter, the soft crinkle of parchment the only sound above the distant crash of the waves below. The sun had reached its peak, its light casting golden patterns across the grass, warming their faces as Hermes clutched each note to his chest. His wings fluttered occasionally, the feathers brushing gently against the stone beneath him, like the quiet rustle of autumn leaves.

When Hermes finished the last letter, his hands were shaking, and his eyes shimmered with something bright and unrestrained. He looked up at Apollo, and for the first time in what felt like ages, there was a spark, small and fragile, but undeniably present. “I’m not forgotten,” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I’m really not.”

Apollo’s expression softened, his hand resting gently on Hermes' shoulder. “Not even for a second,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “They’re waiting for you, Hermes. And so are the others, here, in Ithaca.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering with soft, delicate beats. He swallowed thickly, folding the letters back into the bundle with gentle care, cradling them as if they were something precious. “I'm ready to go back,” he whispered, voice trembling just slightly. 

Apollo smiled, warm and bright. “Then let’s go home.”

Hermes took a steadying breath, his wings giving a tentative flicker. Apollo rose first, extending his hand. Hermes hesitated for only a heartbeat before slipping his hand into his brother’s, the warmth and familiarity grounding him. Apollo helped him up gently, steadying him when his wings fluttered erratically from the sudden shift.

They walked back up the cliffside path together, Apollo’s arm slung protectively around Hermes' shoulders, his presence a constant reassurance. Hermes clutched the bundle of letters close, fingers curling tightly around the familiar script. The tension in his shoulders had loosened, and though his wings still trembled with each step, they fluttered with just a touch more strength.

As they neared the palace, voices drifted through the open courtyard. Penelope’s soft laugh, Telemachus’s boisterous chatter, the low hum of Tiresias’s gentle voice threading through it all. The sound made Hermes' wings flicker with anticipation, his steps quickening just slightly. Apollo kept pace easily, his hand never leaving Hermes' shoulder.

Before they even reached the entrance, Telemachus appeared at the threshold, his eyes wide and bright with relief. “Hermes!” he shouted, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard. He broke into a run, nearly barreling into Hermes with the force of his hug. “You’re back! We were so worried!”

Hermes laughed, the sound cracking just slightly with emotion as he wrapped his arms around Telemachus, wings fluttering against the boy’s sides. “I’m back, Little Trickster,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of warmth. “I’m back.”

Telemachus pulled back just enough to look up at him, his hands still gripping Hermes' shoulders. “I knew Apollo would find you!” he declared proudly, shooting a grin at the sun god who was leaning casually against the archway, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile.

“Oh, was there any doubt?” Apollo teased, his eyes sparkling. “You don’t get to be the god of prophecy without having to go find your little brother every once in a while. Though, maybe I'll pass that job to you soon, young prince. You seem like a good hunter.”

Telemachus beamed. “I am!” He said proudly. "Best in Ithaca!"

Behind him, Tiresias stepped forward, their staff tapping lightly against the stone. Their expression was soft, but their hands were trembling just slightly where they clutched the polished wood. “Hermes?” they called, their voice just above a whisper.

Hermes' gaze snapped up, and his wings gave a sharp flutter. He stepped away from Telemachus, his hands still cradling the bundle of letters. “Starlight,” he breathed.

Tiresias's face softened, but there was a tightness in their brow. He held out a hand, steady and sure. Hermes crossed the distance between them in two quick strides, his wings flaring out behind him as he pulled them into a tight embrace, the letters pressing between them. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Tiresias’s arms came up slowly, carefully, wrapping around Hermes' back. Their hand settled gently on the back of Hermes' head, fingers brushing through his hair with soft, soothing strokes. “You’re here now,” they whispered, their voice barely above a breath. “But you can’t keep running off like that. Not without telling me.”

Hermes stiffened just slightly, his wings flickering with uncertainty. “I just…I needed a moment. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened, their fingers brushing against the tiny wings on Hermes' head. “But I did worry,” they whispered, their voice cracking just slightly. “I always will and I always do. You can’t keep shutting me out, Hermes.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings curling in. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice small. “I didn’t mean to.”

Tiresias leaned back, cupping his face gently. “Then don’t do it again,” he whispered, voice firm but soft. “Promise me.”

Hermes hesitated, but then he nodded, his wings giving a tentative flutter. “I promise.”

Before the tension could settle too heavily, Penelope stepped forward with a soft smile. “Why don’t you both come sit? We’ve just set the table. And Apollo, you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Apollo hesitated, clearly seeing the bond between the group, but not seeing his place among them. “I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he murmured. Odysseus smiled warmly.

“Nonsense. You are Hermes’ family, and he clearly trusts you. You are welcome at our table.” The king said. Hermes turned to Apollo.

“Please, Polly. Stay?” He whispered. 

Apollo smiled warmly, stepping forward to join the group. “I’d be honored.”

Penelope smiled, clasping her hands. “Wonderful. We are honored to have you in our home. Now, come. Let’s eat.”

They made their way to the long stone table under the olive trees. 

"So, sweet bird. Will you please tell me what's going on?" Tiresias gently pressed. Hermes hesitated.

"Zeus, he-" A sharp gasp from ahead cut him off. Odysseus had frozen, eyes wide. Penelope placed a hand on his shoulder, murmuring soft reassurances. 

"What happened, sweet bird?" Tiresias asked gently, leading Hermes to sit between him and his brother. Telemachus and Odysseus sat across from them while Penelope took her spot at the head of the table.

“H-he. He.” Hermes shuddered, remembering how the god had been, how he hadn’t been afraid to hurt him.

"Hermes, what is happening?" The king’s voice was low and full of his own fear.

 Apollo spoke up instead, drawing the attention away from his brother. “I suppose you could say the two of us are in a bit of trouble with our father right now.”

Hermes flinched slightly, his wings curling just a bit tighter. He lowered his gaze, and his voice was quiet. “Your father,” he corrected softly. “He doesn’t want me. Told me again yesterday.”

The table stilled. Odysseus’s eyes went wide, his hands curling into fists. “Zeus was here?” he asked, voice hushed. “On my island?”

Penelope reached out to place a hand on Odysseus’s arm. “We’re safe now,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Hermes looked away, his wings twitching in a tight, nervous motion. “He found me. In the forest.” His voice wavered. “Just a quick visit. Nothing…nothing happened.” His eyes flickered to Apollo, who was watching him with careful intensity. “He just wanted to talk.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings curling in defensively. “Yes,” he murmured. “He just…talked.” He forced a smile, bright and brittle. “I’m fine. Really.”

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, his hand coming to rest on the table with a heavy thud. His gaze was far off, eyes flickering with memories of a charred ship and the screams of dying men. He swallowed thickly, fingers curling into a fist. “Last time I saw Zeus,” he began, voice low and edged with something raw, but rose, gaining volume as he spoke, “he struck down thirty-six of my men without a word. Like they were nothing. Because he could.” He practically shouted the last word. He glanced behind him, as if looking for the God King himself. “He doesn’t just talk, boy. Not without a reason.”

Hermes flinched at the king’s raised tone, his wings giving a small, instinctive flutter.

“Odysseus, calm down!” Penelope stood, glaring at her husband. “You are not helping this situation. Stop shouting. Lord Zeus was here. Said his words to Hermes and left. You’re not harmed. None of us are harmed. But you are hurting the people at your table.” She gestured and Odysseus glanced at Hermes.

The messenger’s head was bowed low, small wings trembling.

“Hermes, it’s okay,” Apollo was whispering, trying to coax Hermes’ head to raise. Tiresias was running their hands over the messenger’s small, trembling wings.

“Penelope, you weren’t there! He-he can,” The king panicked. “He will do what he wants, when he wants, and he won’t feel remorse for it. He killed all of my men who were left. Eurylochus, Perimedes, and all that were left. He made me kill Hector’s son!” Odysseus yelled.

“Shhh, sweet bird? He’s not mad at you, he’s just scared. You’re okay.” Tiresias whispered. 

Apollo’s hand slid from Hermes' shoulder, bracing against the table as he leaned forward, his expression steely and sharp. The sunlight filtering through the olive branches caught on his golden curls, casting flickering shards of light across his eyes. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Odysseus blinked, his brow furrowing. “Pardon?”

“I said that’s enough,” Apollo repeated, his gaze not wavering. “You think shouting about Zeus’s power is going to help him? He just told you he was threatened, he just told you Zeus was here.” His fingers curled against the table, knuckles white. “And your first instinct is to shout about how powerful he is? How deadly?” His eyes flickered with something sharp and unforgiving. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish? Fear? Because he’s already got enough of that.”

Odysseus bristled, shoulders straightening. “That’s not what I was trying to do. But I won’t sit here and pretend that Zeus is anything less than–”

“A monster?” Apollo finished for him, his eyes blazing. “We know.” His voice was softer now, edged with something raw. “But you don’t need to remind him of that. He’s lived it.”

The courtyard went silent, the only sound the soft rustling of leaves above. Hermes kept his head bowed, wings trembling slightly, but Apollo’s hand moved to settle on his back, right between the wings, grounding him. 

Penelope, ever graceful, slid a hand over Odysseus’s knuckles, grounding him. “Apollo is right,” she murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “Hermes needs comfort. Not fear.”

Odysseus let out a heavy breath, nodding slowly. His eyes flickered back to Hermes, and the king’s expression softened, the tension in his shoulders bleeding away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice gravelly but sincere. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Hermes. I just…” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I remember what he did. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Hermes raised his head, blinking rapidly, his wings giving a tentative flicker. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know you didn’t mean it.” He glanced at Apollo, “I’m okay,” he murmured, placing a gentle hand on his brother’s arm.

Then, Telemachus spoke up, his young face set with a look of determination far beyond his years. He glanced at his father, then at Hermes, his expression softening. “Lady Athena once told me,” he began, “that the strength of a family isn’t measured by blood alone. It’s measured by the hands that reach for you when you fall and the arms that hold you when you’re afraid.” His eyes flickered to Apollo, then back to Hermes, his gaze unwavering. “And I think we’re all doing that right now.”

Telemachus shuffled his feet, glancing down at the ground before lifting his head back up. “Hermes is family now,” he continued, a little firmer this time. “He’s my family. And Apollo, too, if he wants to be.” He glanced at the sun god with a flash of determination. “You don’t need to be afraid here. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering softly, and his eyes shimmered with something fragile and bright. “Little Trickster,” he whispered, voice cracking. “When did you get so wise?”

Telemachus grinned, bright and wide. “I listen when Lady Athena talks,” he said proudly. “Even if she doesn’t think I do. She used to tell me that I was as bad a listener as you.” He laughed.

“Nonsense,” Hermes said, a smile breaking across his face. “No one is as bad a listener as I.” He joked.

Apollo laughed, “Gods, if that isn’t one of the most honest things you’ve ever said,” he teased with fondness.

The mood lightened, laughter filling the room. The heavy sense of dread that had filled the room just moments before had died away, replacing fear with fondness.

The laughter settled, lingering in the warm air like the remnants of a summer breeze. Penelope, ever the graceful host, rose from her seat, brushing her hands against the folds of her dress. “Well,” she began, her voice soft and steady, “if we’re all quite finished with terrifying our guests…” Her eyes flickered to Odysseus, who offered a sheepish nod. “Let’s sit and eat before it gets cold.” She passed a warm loaf of bread to Apollo first. 

“Thank you,” Apollo said, his voice softening with appreciation. He tore a piece from the loaf, the crust flaking beneath his fingertips, and passed it to Hermes without a word.

The conversation began to flow again, lighter this time, punctuated with soft laughter and gentle teasing. Telemachus wasted no time questioning Apollo in the same manner he had first questioned Hermes. “So, you’re really his brother?” he asked, voice brimming with wonder.

Apollo chuckled, nodding. “I am,” he replied. “We’ve been brothers for quite a long time now. Though I think Hermes always caused more trouble than I did.” He shot Hermes a teasing grin.

Hermes snorted, his wings fluttering with faint indignation. “Oh, please. I seem to recall a certain sun god turning half of Delphi into a sunflower grove just to win a bet.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened. “You did that?” he asked, glancing back at Apollo with something like awe.

Apollo feigned a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair. “I did. And it was beautiful,” he replied with a grin. “I stand by it.”

Hermes laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You got scolded for weeks.”

“And you got away with it, as usual,” Apollo shot back, raising his goblet in mock accusation.

Penelope smiled softly, watching the two gods bicker with all the familiarity of siblings. She leaned forward, her voice gentle. “Hermes, I can’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up on Olympus. Did you and Apollo always get into so much trouble?”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a tiny flutter as he considered her question. “I suppose we did,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “It was different there. Busy. Loud. But we always found time for trouble.” He glanced at Apollo, his eyes softening. “Some things never change.”

Telemachus grinned, leaning forward eagerly. “Tell me! Tell me about the time you two got into the most trouble.”

Hermes opened his mouth, but Apollo cut him off with a laugh. “Oh, that’s easy. Remember the time we tried to sneak into Artemis’s hunt?”

Hermes groaned, running a hand through his curls. “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that one up.” He shot Apollo a look of mock betrayal, but there was warmth in his gaze. “We were nearly skewered. Artemis does not take kindly to surprise visitors.”

Telemachus gasped, practically bouncing in his seat. “Did she catch you?”

Hermes smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Not even close,” he boasted, his wings giving an energetic flutter. “I may have been small, but I was faster than any arrow she had.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, chuckling. “Only because I tripped and she went after me first.”

“Semantics,” Hermes waved his hand, grinning. “The point is, she didn’t catch me. Besides, you’re her twin. Better she caught you than me.”

Penelope laughed, a soft, melodic sound that seemed to weave through the garden like sunlight. “I can see you both were quite the handful,” she said fondly.

Hermes' smile softened, and he glanced back down at the table, his fingers idly brushing the edge of his plate. “I suppose we were.”

Odysseus, who had been quiet for some time, leaned back in his chair, watching the banter with a guarded, but softened gaze. His hands were still, his posture more relaxed. He spoke then, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Well, I’m glad you’re both here,” he said simply. “There’s enough trouble to get into on Ithaca, I assure you.”

Telemachus perked up, eyes glimmering. “Can you show me how you did it?” he asked Hermes eagerly. “How you got away so fast?”

Hermes blinked in surprise, his wings fluttering. “What, now?”

Telemachus grinned, nodding with all the boundless enthusiasm of a child. “Yes! I want to learn! If you’re that fast, maybe you can teach me.”

Hermes laughed, and for the first time, it wasn’t edged with fear or hesitation. “You want me to teach you to outrun Artemis?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Telemachus’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Why not?”

Hermes glanced at Apollo, who merely shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Well,” Hermes said, turning back to Telemachus, his wings giving an energetic flutter. “I suppose I could show you a thing or two. Though you may be disappointed, Little Trickster, I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

Penelope chuckled, her gaze flickering to Tiresias, who wore a soft smile. “Perhaps I’ll sit this one out,” she said, her voice warm. “I don’t quite have the legs for outrunning gods.”

The table laughed, the tension that had knotted in their chests finally unwinding. Plates were passed, stories shared, and the olive trees rustled gently in the breeze, their silver leaves catching the light.

By the time the last bits of bread and fruit were cleared from the table, the sun had just about set, bathing the courtyard in a soft, orange glow. Odysseus had excused himself to attend to a few tasks he had to finish.

Telemachus, practically vibrating with energy, bounced to his feet, his eyes fixed firmly on Hermes.

“Come on!” he urged, practically tugging Hermes from his seat. “You promised you’d teach me! How to run fast! Like you did with Artemis!”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a startled flutter. “Now? You want to do that now?”

Telemachus nodded enthusiastically, his curls bobbing with each movement. “Of course! Before the sun gets too low!” He turned to Apollo, eyes wide with excitement. “You can join too, right? You’re his brother. You have to know how to do it too!”

Apollo’s grin was slow and lazy, like the unfurling of sunlight. “Oh, I know how,” he replied, glancing sideways at Hermes. “I might even be better.”

Hermes snorted, folding his arms over his chest. “Better? You? In what universe?”

Apollo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, I don’t know. The one where I literally beat you in a race?”

Hermes rolled his eyes, wings flaring slightly with mock offense. “That doesn’t count. I actually have to use my feet,” he teased, tapping the side of his ankle, where the tiny wings fluttered indignantly. “Not just shimmer around like some overgrown firefly.”

Apollo laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “Overgrown firefly? That’s rich coming from the god of fluttering around.”

Telemachus watched the back-and-forth with growing delight, practically bouncing in place. “So…can we go? Can you both show me?” His eyes shone with unbridled excitement.

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and easy. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep the prince waiting.” He turned to Tiresias, who had been watching the exchange with a gentle smile. “Starlight, would you like to join us?”

Tiresias chuckled softly, shaking their head. “I think I’ll stay here with Penelope. But I expect a full report of how many times you trip over your own feet,” they teased gently, their hand brushing lightly over Hermes' arm.

Hermes gasped in mock offense, wings fluttering dramatically. “I would never trip.”

“I’ll tell you, Tiresias. Don’t worry.” Apollo jumped in. 

“Thank you, Apollo,” Tiresias laughed.

“Umm, excuse you two. I am the picture of grace.” Hermes sniffed indignantly.

Penelope snorted from her place at the table, covering her mouth with delicate fingers. “Of course you are, Hermes,” she said, her voice laced with fondness. “But I wouldn’t mind the entertainment.”

“Penelope?” Hermes gasped, pressing a hand to his heart. “Betrayed by my own family!”

“Oh, come on,” Apollo chuckled, clapping Hermes on the back. “You can cry about betrayal later. We have a race to win.” He tilted his head to Telemachus. “Lead the way, young prince.”

Telemachus’s grin could have rivaled the sun itself. Without another word, he took off through the courtyard, his sandals kicking up dust as he ran toward the open field just beyond the olive grove. Apollo and Hermes shared a glance, and then, as if by instinct, they both took off after him.

Hermes was first, wings flaring out as he sprinted forward, his feet barely touching the earth. He laughed as he ran, the sound wild and unrestrained, almost like a bird in flight. Apollo was hot on his heels, his steps light and effortless, as if the sun itself propelled him forward.

Telemachus stumbled a bit behind them, but his face was bright with joy, legs pumping furiously as he tried to keep up. “Wait! I wasn’t ready!” he shouted, though his grin betrayed his delight.

Hermes glanced back, his wings fluttering. “Lesson number one, Little Trickster!” he called out. “You’re never ready! You just go!” He whipped back around, pumping his arms faster. Apollo pulled up beside him, grinning.

“Oh, come on, Hermes. Is that the best you’ve got?” Apollo teased, his golden curls catching the sunlight as he pushed forward.

Hermes rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide. “You wish!” He reached out, shoving Apollo lightly in the shoulder, sending him off balance just enough to gain a step ahead. Apollo stumbled, laughing, but righted himself easily, his eyes sparkling with determination.

“You know I could just shimmer there, right?” Apollo quipped, his voice light and teasing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hermes shot back, wings flaring. He glanced over his shoulder to find Telemachus still running, red-faced and breathless but determined. “Come on, Little Wolf! Don’t let a couple of gods outrun you!”

Telemachus grinned, determination sparking in his eyes. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” he panted, his feet slapping against the dirt as he tried to close the distance.

Apollo laughed, slowing his pace just enough to fall back beside Telemachus. “You’re doing good, kid,” he praised, voice bright and warm. “Not many mortals can keep up with us.”

Telemachus grinned up at him, his eyes shining. “Really?”

Apollo nodded. “Really.” He shot Hermes a mischievous glance. “What do you say, Hermes? Should we give him a head start?”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, his wings giving a dramatic flutter. “A head start? What are you trying to do? Make me look bad?”

“Only if you lose,” Apollo taunted, a grin spreading across his face.

Telemachus perked up at the suggestion, practically vibrating with excitement. “A head start?” he asked, glancing between the two gods with wide eyes.

Hermes pretended to think it over, tapping his chin with exaggerated consideration. “Alright, Little Trickster,” he said finally, wings fluttering. “You get five seconds. Make them count.”

Telemachus didn’t need to be told twice. With a whoop of delight, he took off, his legs pumping furiously as he disappeared over the hill. Hermes and Apollo watched him go, laughter bubbling up between them.

Apollo stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles with dramatic flair. “You ready, little brother?”

Hermes grinned, his wings fluttering eagerly. “Oh, I was born ready.”

Notes:

Don't hate Odysseus. He didn't mean to hurt Hermes. Poor guy is still working through his own trauma.

As always, hope you enjoyed the chapter!!!! Take care of yourselves my friends! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

P.S. I might post again later…the next chapter is one of my favorites :)

Chapter 40

Summary:

Just soft and silly shenanigans. Easily one of my favorite chapters.

The world blurred around them as they ran. Hermes' wings fluttered wildly, the small feathers catching the sunlight with each flicker. Apollo was right beside him, his steps effortless, barely disturbing the grass beneath his feet. They tore across the open field, dust kicking up in clouds behind them, laughter bubbling from their chests.

Telemachus was just a speck ahead, legs pumping, arms flailing with determination as he glanced back over his shoulder. His eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’re not even running!” he shouted at Apollo, half laughing, half accusing.

Apollo only grinned, his golden curls bouncing as he caught up with Telemachus in two easy strides. “What? You don’t like my style?” he teased, spreading his arms wide as he floated just above the ground, his feet barely grazing the grass.

“That’s cheating!” Telemachus huffed, his cheeks flushed with effort.

“Oh, trust me, Little Trickster,” Hermes shouted from behind, catching up with a burst of speed, wings fluttering like a hummingbird. “He cheats all the time. It’s how he copes with me always winning.”

Apollo barked out a laugh, glancing over his shoulder at Hermes. “Winning? Oh, you must be dreaming, little brother.”

“Catch me and find out!” Hermes called back, a grin stretching across his face as he veered sharply to the left, disappearing between a cluster of olive trees. Apollo hesitated for only a split second before following, his form flickering in and out of sunlight as he weaved between the trunks.

Telemachus skidded to a halt, his eyes wide as he watched the gods vanish. “Hey! Wait for me!” he cried, scrambling after them, legs pumping wildly.

Hermes darted through the grove, his wings fluttering in bursts that propelled him forward with quick, agile steps. He glanced back, catching a glimpse of golden light flickering through the leaves. “You’re getting slow, Polly!” he called out, laughing as he ducked under a low-hanging branch. “Are you getting old already?”

Apollo’s laugh echoed through the trees. “Old? I’m barely getting started!” There was a flicker of light, and then Apollo was right beside him, his form shimmering with a faint glow. “Should I give you a head start, Hermes? I know those little wings can’t keep up.” He shot him a grin, all teeth and sunlight.

Hermes barked out a laugh, ducking out of his brother’s reach. “You wish! I’m just getting warmed up.” He veered sharply, feet barely skimming the ground as he burst out of the olive grove and onto the stretch of beach that bordered Ithaca’s cliffs. The sand gave way under his sandals, but Hermes barely noticed, wings fluttering wildly as he sped forward.

Apollo appeared beside him moments later, his feet floating just above the surface of the sand, not a single grain disturbed by his movement. “Beach running now? Are you trying to make it easier for me?” he teased.

“Pfft, like you could catch me!” Hermes shot back, his wings fluttering in a challenge. He sprinted ahead, sand kicking up in bursts behind him.

Telemachus came stumbling out of the trees just in time to see them disappear down the shoreline, their laughter carried back to him on the sea breeze. “Hey!” he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Wait for me!”

Hermes glanced back, skidding to a stop in the sand. His wings flared out, and he held up a hand. “Hold up, Polly.”

Apollo slowed, turning with an arched brow. “Tired already?”

Hermes ignored him, jogging back to Telemachus, who was red-faced and panting but still grinning widely. “Come on, Tele. You can run faster than that,” he teased, reaching out a hand. “I thought you were the best hunter in Ithaca!”

Telemachus laughed, clasping Hermes' hand and letting him pull him forward. “I am! But you’re cheating!”

Hermes gasped dramatically. “Me? Cheat? Never!”

Telemachus giggled, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “You run too fast!”

Hermes knelt beside him, wings fluttering softly. “Here, I’ll show you a trick.” He beckoned Telemachus closer, glancing around conspiratorially. “The key, just like I taught you in sparring, is not to run harder, it's to run smarter.”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide. “What does that mean?”

Hermes grinned. “It means,” he began, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you let the wind do the running for you.”

Telemachus blinked, confusion etched across his features. “The wind?”

Hermes nodded, leaning back and stretching out his wings. “Watch.” He bent low, wings stretching wide, and then he sprang forward, wings fluttering just enough to catch the breeze. He practically glided across the sand, his feet skimming lightly with each step, barely disturbing the surface.

Telemachus’s mouth dropped open. “Whoa.”

Hermes jogged back, his wings giving a triumphant flutter. “See? You try.”

Telemachus’s eyes sparkled with determination. He mimicked Hermes' stance, legs bent, shoulders loose, and then he pushed off, his feet barely skimming the sand. He stumbled at first, but then his momentum picked up, and he was running, really running, like the wind was carrying him forward. His eyes went wide with shock. “I’m doing it!” he shouted, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “I’m really doing it!”

Hermes whooped, clapping his hands. “That’s it! Look at you, Little Wolf!”

Apollo smiled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m impressed,” he said, ruffling Telemachus’s curls. “You’re a natural.”

Telemachus beamed up at him, eyes bright. “Do you think Lady Athena would be proud?” he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

Apollo’s grin turned sharp and playful. “I don’t know if Thena would be proud of anything Hermes teaches you.”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide, and he glanced nervously between the two gods. “Uh-oh.”

Hermes blinked, his wings flaring wide. “Excuse me?”

Apollo only chuckled, crossing his arms. “I’m just saying. Thena and I have had…conversations about your ‘techniques.’” He made air quotes with his fingers, the grin never leaving his face.

Hermes' wings twitched, and he took a step forward, eyes narrowed. “I think I’m gonna have to show you just how well my ‘techniques’ work.”

Apollo arched a brow. “You think you can catch me, little brother?”

Hermes grinned wickedly. “I don’t have to.” He turned sharply to Telemachus. “Little Trickster, what do you say we take down the Sun?”

Telemachus’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands together. “I’m in!”

Before Apollo could react, Hermes lunged forward, crashing into his brother with a laugh. “Got you now, Polly!” Hermes shouted, laughter spilling from his lips. “You’re not getting away this time!”

Apollo laughed, twisting in Hermes' grasp, his hands grasping at the messenger’s arms. “Oh, is that so?” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten so strong down here on the mortal plane.” With a sudden burst of strength, he spun, twisting Hermes around and nearly tossing him into the sand. “Maybe you’re getting soft!”

“Oh, that’s it!” Hermes shouted, wings fluttering with indignation. He dug his heels into the sand and threw his weight forward, knocking Apollo off balance. “I’m not the one who’s been lounging on Olympus eating grapes all day!” He practically tackled Apollo, sending both of them tumbling into the sand, limbs flailing.

Telemachus whooped from the sidelines, eyes bright with excitement. “Get him, Hermes! You’ve got him!”

Apollo grunted, wrestling Hermes back, the two of them rolling and kicking up waves of sand. Hermes' wings flapped wildly, throwing grit and dust into Apollo’s curls. Apollo sputtered, trying to wipe the sand from his eyes. “Ugh! Alright, that’s dirty fighting, you little menace!” He laughed, catching Hermes around the waist and flipping him onto his back.

Hermes landed with a huff, wings spread wide and covered in fine white sand. “Oh, now you’ve done it!” Hermes crowed, grabbing a handful of sand and flinging it straight at Apollo’s chest. It exploded across his tunic, leaving streaks of white grit across his golden form.

Apollo’s jaw dropped in mock offense. “You did not just throw sand at me,” he declared, eyes wide with disbelief. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”

“Oh, is the sun god scared of a little dirt?” Hermes shot back, grinning wildly.

“Not even close!” Apollo lunged forward, grabbing Hermes by the shoulders and all but shoving him back into the sand, sending another cloud of dust flying up around them.

“That’s cheating!” Hermes shrieked, flailing as Apollo held him down, a grin spreading across his face. Hermes twisted, wings fluttering, sending sand spraying in every direction. “Telemachus! I need backup!” Hermes called dramatically, voice muffled as Apollo pinned him.

Telemachus’s eyes went wide with glee. “I’m coming!” he shouted, sprinting full force and leaping onto Apollo’s back, arms wrapping around the god’s shoulders. Apollo staggered forward with the impact, his hands slipping from Hermes as Telemachus clung to him like a barnacle.

“What? Telemachus!” Apollo laughed, stumbling as Telemachus tightened his grip. “I didn’t know you were a traitor!”

Telemachus giggled wildly, his grip unyielding. “You should’ve known better! Hermes was my friend first! I owe him my undying allegiance!” He squeezed tighter, throwing his weight back, and Apollo nearly toppled again.

Hermes took the opportunity, springing back to his feet with a wicked grin. His wings flared, flicking sand from the feathers. “I told you!” Hermes shouted, flinging another handful of sand at Apollo’s ankles. “You’re not getting away!”

Apollo shielded his eyes, laughing as he fended off the double attack. “I’m outnumbered!” he cried, pretending to stagger back. “Two against one isn’t fair!”

“Aw, is the mighty god of the sun complaining?” Hermes teased, hands braced on his hips. “You’re supposed to be a warrior, aren’t you? Fought in the Titanomachy and everything!”

“Yeah! And you’re losing!” Telemachus crowed, still hanging on Apollo’s back, legs kicking excitedly.

Apollo straightened, shaking his head with a grin. “Oh, you two are asking for it.” His eyes flashed playfully, and before either Hermes or Telemachus could react, Apollo spun, shaking Telemachus off and catching Hermes around the waist. “Time to learn some humility!”

Hermes screeched with laughter as Apollo practically lifted him off the ground, wings flapping helplessly. “Hey! Hey! Let me go!” Hermes protested, squirming wildly.

“Not a chance!” Apollo laughed, practically tossing Hermes back into the sand. Hermes hit the ground with a yelp, wings flaring and sending up another plume of dust.

Hermes sat up, sputtering and wiping sand from his face. His wings were practically caked with it, feathers sticking out at odd angles. He looked a bit like a disgruntled, dusty bird, and Telemachus was practically doubled over laughing.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Hermes said, voice dripping with mock offense. “I’ll show you funny!” With that, he lunged forward, grabbing Telemachus around the waist and dragging him into the sandpile with him. The boy shrieked with laughter, legs kicking as Hermes tousled his hair and sent puffs of sand flying.

Apollo stood back, hands on his hips, watching the chaos with a grin stretching wide across his face. “Should I join back in?” he mused aloud.

Hermes looked up from his pile of sand and a giggling Telemachus, eyes narrowing with challenge. “I dare you.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “A dare, huh?” He cracked his knuckles, wings flaring slightly. “Alright then.”

Before Hermes or Telemachus could even think to move, Apollo was back in the fray, launching himself at both of them. They tumbled together, rolling in the sand, limbs flailing, wings flapping, and laughter pouring from all three of them. Sand stuck to their skin, dusted their hair, and caked onto their tunics, but none of them seemed to care. It was pure, unfiltered chaos, and none of them wanted it to end.

Apollo managed to pin Hermes to the ground, Telemachus practically squashed between them, all three of them breathless and grinning. “You give up?” Apollo panted, his hands braced against Hermes' shoulders.

Hermes laughed, eyes sparkling. “Never!”

Apollo laughed too, the sound rich and bright, like sunlight spilling across the beach. “Good,” he said, releasing them both and flopping back onto the sand, arms spread wide. “I like a good fight.”

Telemachus rolled onto his back beside him, breathing hard but smiling wide. “We…we got you,” he gasped, pride shining in his eyes. “Hermes! We really got him!”

Hermes flopped down beside them, wings spread out across the sand. He looked over at Telemachus, his grin softening. “We sure did, Little Trickster.” He nudged Apollo with his elbow, sending a little cascade of sand rolling off the god’s shoulder. “You’re getting soft, Polly.”

Apollo snorted. “Am I? Or are you finally getting stronger?”

Hermes laughed, his wings fluttering lightly. “Maybe both.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth of the sun and the sand beneath him. “Maybe both.”

Hermes, Apollo, and Telemachus lay sprawled out on the sand for a while longer, catching their breath, their laughter still bubbling up every so often. They were caked head to toe in sand. Apollo’s golden curls were streaked with white, Telemachus’s tunic was practically unrecognizable, and Hermes' wings looked like he had just rolled through an entire beach storm. Sand clung to every feather, sticking in clumps and making the wings look twice their usual size.

Hermes gave a deep, contented sigh, his wings twitching as he stretched them out. “You know,” he said, turning his head to look at Apollo, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this filthy.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, brushing some sand from his eyebrows. “That’s rich coming from you, featherbrain. You look like a baby bird that fell out of its nest.”

Telemachus snorted, still flat on his back. “You both look like you got caught in a sandstorm.” He picked up a clump of sand from his tunic and flung it playfully at Hermes, who squawked and flailed his wings. More sand flew off, and Apollo sputtered as it landed directly in his hair.

“Alright, alright! We should head back before Penelope thinks we got lost in a war zone,” Apollo chuckled, sitting up and shaking out his curls. The action only succeeded in sending more sand everywhere.

Hermes groaned, slowly sitting up and attempting to brush off his wings. The sand clung stubbornly, and every swipe of his hands only seemed to grind it in deeper. “We look like we got caught in a warzone.” He huffed. “I’m going to be finding sand in my wings for weeks,” he grumbled.

Apollo smirked, clapping him on the back. “Think of it as a new fashion statement.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite hide his grin. Telemachus scrambled up, shaking out his tunic, and the three of them made their way back up the hill, leaving a trail of sand in their wake.

As they neared the courtyard, the soft hum of conversation floated on the breeze. Tiresias and Penelope were seated beneath the olive trees, chatting quietly, with Odysseus, who had rejoined the two, occasionally nodding along as he sharpened his sword on a whetstone. The peaceful scene was shattered the moment Penelope looked up.

Her eyes went wide, and then she pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Absolutely not,” she declared, her voice ringing clear and amused. She stood up, hands on her hips, shaking her head. “You three are not coming back into the palace like that.”

Hermes blinked, wings fluttering with confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, glancing back at Apollo and Telemachus. “We’re–”

“Covered head to toe in sand,” Penelope finished, a grin spreading across her face. “I don’t think I’ve seen that much sand on a person since Telemachus thought rolling down the dunes was a good idea.”

Telemachus blushed, scratching the back of his head. “It was fun…”

Tiresias laughed, the sound light and warm. They turned their head slightly towards Hermes' voice. “I can’t see you, sweet bird, but I can hear the sand scraping off your wings from here.”

Hermes groaned dramatically. “Tiresias, come on. I’m fine! It’s just a little–” He flapped his wings slightly, and a small cloud of sand burst forth, causing everyone in the vicinity to shield their faces.

“Not a chance,” Penelope said, shaking her head firmly. “You three are getting cleaned up before you even think of stepping foot back in here. I just had the floors scrubbed.”

Hermes shot Apollo a look. “This is your fault, you know.”

Apollo raised his hands in mock surrender. “Oh, so it was me flapping wings like a madman and throwing sand at your own brother?”

“You tackled me first!” Hermes cried, wings fluttering and sending another cloud of sand into the air.

Tiresias chuckled, tapping their staff on the ground. “I’d listen to her, Hermes. I’ve cleaned the sand from your wings before. Go rinse out as much as you can.”

Hermes groaned but couldn’t help the smile that curled at his lips. “Fine, fine,” he relented, glancing back at Telemachus. “Looks like we’re taking a detour, Little Wolf.”

Telemachus grinned wide, clearly unbothered by the idea. “To the well?” he asked, eyes bright with anticipation.

“Absolutely not!” Penelope called, hand still on her hip. “If you dump that much sand into the well, we’ll be finding grit in our water for weeks.” She gestured with her hands. “Take them to the stream, and don’t come back until you’re sparkling.”

Hermes snorted. “Sparkling? You do realize who you’re talking to, right?” His wings gave a playful flutter.

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “I do. That’s why I said it.”

Apollo burst into laughter, throwing his arm around Hermes' shoulders. “Come on, featherbrain. Let’s go sparkle.” Apollo said brightly, steering him down the path toward the stream with Telemachus leading the way.

Tiresias leaned back in their chair, chuckling as the trio disappeared around the corner. “I wish I could see that,” they murmured to Penelope, a smile still on his lips.

Penelope laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t need to see it to know it’s absolute chaos.”

Tiresias’s smile softened. “I’m just glad he’s happy.”

Penelope looked back down the path where the three had gone, her gaze thoughtful and warm. “Me too,” she whispered.

The path to the stream was winding and uneven, flanked by olive trees whose branches twisted and curled like ancient hands reaching toward the sky. Telemachus bounced ahead, his tunic still streaked with sand, clearly thrilled by the prospect of more mischief. Hermes followed behind, his wings occasionally giving an irritated flick to shake off stray grains of sand, while Apollo walked beside him, golden curls still dusted with white.

“Sparkling, huh?” Hermes muttered, glancing sideways at Apollo. “Think you can manage that, oh brilliant god of light?”

Apollo scoffed, brushing his fingers through his hair and sending a fresh plume of sand scattering. “I’m always sparkling. This is just a bit of extra flair.”

Telemachus turned around and grinned, his hands cupped around his mouth to shout back to them. “You two coming, or am I doing this alone?”

Hermes perked up, his wings fluttering in anticipation. “Oh, you’re not getting ahead of me, Little Trickster.” He spread his wings and dashed forward, narrowly avoiding the low-hanging branches as he sped past Telemachus.

“Hey!” Telemachus yelped, taking off after him. “No fair, you’ve got wings!”

Apollo laughed, shaking his head as he followed at a brisk pace. “That’s the trick, Telemachus. Never race a god and expect fairness.”

Hermes turned around, running backwards just to prove his point. “Hey! They’re clipped right now! They barely do anything for me. I’m just that good,” he shot back, grinning widely and brightly.

Telemachus burst into laughter, trying to catch up. “You’re not that fast!”

“Oh, I am, Tele. I’m just gracious enough to let you think you have a chance!” Hermes called back, spinning around and sprinting ahead.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as they neared the stream, and Hermes skidded to a halt at its edge, wings flaring out to catch his balance. Telemachus nearly crashed into him, stumbling before catching himself with a breathless laugh. Apollo arrived a few moments later, his pace more measured, his grin still wide and bright.

Hermes looked down at the clear, glimmering water, the sunlight bouncing off the surface in ripples of light. His wings fluttered slightly, and he frowned. “You know, if I get my wings wet, I’m gonna be standing around for hours waiting for them to dry,” he complained, his hands resting on his hips. “I’ll be preening until sunset!”

Telemachus rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, come on. You’ll survive. It’s just a bit of water!”

Hermes huffed, eyeing the water with a practiced sort of skepticism. “A bit of water, he says. They’ll be soggy for hours.” He stretched out one wing for emphasis, the tiny feathers catching the sunlight.

Apollo chuckled, stepping up beside him and nudging his shoulder. “Afraid of a little wet, little wing? Come on, even clipped wings need a good rinse. Besides, I can dry them off in a minute, I always do.” He gave Hermes a gentle push, just enough to unsettle his balance.

Hermes staggered forward, arms flailing dramatically, before he caught himself. “Hey! Watch it, Polly!” He shot Apollo a glare that was far too playful to be real anger.

“You’re stalling,” Apollo sing-songed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe you’re just scared you can’t handle it.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, wings flaring defiantly. “Oh, I can handle it,” he shot back, bending down to unlace his sandals and kick them off. He dipped one toe into the water and hissed. “Okay, that’s…yep, that’s cold.”

Telemachus snorted, already ankle-deep in the water, splashing around happily. “Get in already, you baby!” he taunted, scooping up a handful of water and flinging it directly at Hermes' legs.

Hermes yelped, wings flaring out instinctively. “Oh, you are so dead for that, Little Trickster!” He jumped into the water, splashing wildly, his wings flapping and scattering droplets everywhere. The feathers glimmered in the light, water catching in the delicate structures and clinging stubbornly.

Hermes groaned dramatically. “Oh, just perfect. You realize I’ll be dripping all the way back? I’m going to have puddles in my sandals!” he complained, ankle wings completely submerged. 

“Oh, quit your whining!” Apollo laughed, stepping into the water with barely a flinch. He splashed forward, scooping up water and flinging it at Hermes with a grin. “You look better sparkling anyway.”

Hermes sputtered, head wings flaring out as the water splashed across his chest. “That’s it! You’re done for!” He splashed water back at Apollo.

Apollo stared down at his drenched tunic, water dripping from his curls. He looked up, eyes narrowed. “You realize you’ve started a war you can’t win, little brother.”

Hermes only laughed, wings fluttering in a challenge. “Is that so? Come and get me.”

Apollo didn’t need further encouragement. He quickly sent a cascade of droplets flying toward Hermes, who yelped. Telemachus, ever the opportunist, took the chance to fling another wave of water directly at Apollo, catching him right in the face.

Apollo spluttered, wiping the water from his eyes. “You traitor!” he laughed, scooping up water and splashing it right back at Telemachus, who ducked behind Hermes with a fit of giggles.

“Oh, hiding behind the featherbrain now, are we?” Apollo taunted, sloshing through the water to close the distance. Telemachus shrieked with laughter, darting out from behind Hermes and circling around Apollo, splashing him from behind.

“You little–” Apollo whirled, slipping in the slick stones beneath the water and stumbling forward, catching himself just before toppling over. Hermes was laughing so hard he could hardly breathe, wings flapping with delight.

“You two are menaces,” Apollo shouted, though the smile on his face betrayed his words. He launched another wave of water at Hermes, who retaliated with an exaggerated flap of his wings, sending a spray right back.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Hermes shot back. Telemachus, emboldened by the chaos, darted forward and shoved at Apollo’s side. The god of the sun staggered, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Apollo growled, voice light with laughter. He turned on Telemachus, scooping him up with ease and tossing him back into the deeper part of the stream. Telemachus came up sputtering, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he was grinning wildly.

Hermes nearly doubled over with laughter, wings still sending splashes everywhere. “You—you almost got tackled by a mortal!” he choked out between giggles.

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re any better?” Without warning, he lunged forward, catching Hermes by the waist and hauling him off his feet. Hermes yelped, wings flapping wildly, showering Apollo with water, but the god had a firm grip.

“No! Apollo, no! I’m already covered in sand!” Hermes protested, laughing too hard to properly struggle.

“Guess we’ll just have to wash it off, huh?” Apollo said cheerfully, wading deeper into the stream 

“Not the head wings, Apollo. Wait. They’re–” He got cut off by Apollo unceremoniously dunking Hermes under the water.

There was a splash, a flurry of wings and limbs, and then Hermes resurfaced, sputtering and coughing but still laughing. “Sensitive.” He finished, flapping the wings at Apollo, shaking the water off. 

Apollo's grin softened, and he reached out, brushing water off Hermes' head wings with surprising tenderness. “I forgot those get cold so easily,” he murmured, voice genuinely concerned. “Are you alright?”

Hermes blinked, water dripping from his curls. “I…yeah,” he said, a bit surprised at the gentleness. “Just a little shock.”

Apollo’s hand lingered a moment longer, his eyes soft with that familiar protectiveness. “You tell me if it’s too much, alright?”

Hermes managed a smile, the tenderness wrapping around his heart like a blanket. “Alright.”

Apollo gave his head wings one last pat, grinning. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet!” And with that, the water fight resumed with a fresh surge of laughter.

“I’m gonna get you for that!” Hermes declared, his wings flaring out.

“Come and try, little brother,” Apollo taunted, backing up and sending another splash his way.

From the bank, Tiresias and Penelope had wandered over, the sound of the chaos drawing them in. Penelope had her arms crossed, shaking her head with a bemused grin. “Look at them,” she chuckled, nudging Tiresias gently. “Three children, absolutely ruining that stream.”

Tiresias tilted his head, listening to the whoops and splashes. “I’d wager Hermes is in the middle of it,” he mused with a smile.

“Oh, you’d win that bet,” Penelope replied. She raised her voice, hands cupped around her mouth. “You are not coming back into the palace until you’re clean!” she called, her tone firm but full of fondness.

Hermes whipped around, wings dripping, and shouted back. “Define clean!”

Penelope laughed. “Not covered head to toe in sand and mud, for starters!”

Hermes looked down at himself, then at Telemachus and Apollo, both of whom were equally filthy. He grinned wickedly. “Guess that means we’re staying out here a while.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, shaking the water from his hair. “I’m alright with that.”

Telemachus just laughed, splashing more water at Hermes. “Me too!”

Hermes flared his wings out, droplets scattering everywhere. “Then I guess it’s time for round two!” He lunged for Apollo, wings flapping, and the chaos resumed.

The second round of chaos seemed even louder than the first. Telemachus, emboldened by his earlier victory, splashed with wild abandon, sending waves crashing over both Hermes and Apollo. Hermes retaliated with frantic wing flaps, scattering droplets in all directions and soaking the young prince with glee. Apollo tried, unsuccessfully, to remain dignified, but when Hermes tripped him into the shallows, all bets were off.

It was only after Telemachus ended up upside down, held by his ankles by a victorious Apollo, that the three finally collapsed onto the grassy bank beside the stream, panting and laughing. Water dripped from their hair and clothes, pooling beneath them in small puddles.

Hermes stretched out his ankle wings to either side, the small, delicate feathers mussed and wet, with bits of sand still clinging stubbornly to the edges. He grimaced, shaking them out gently. “Ugh, I’m going to be picking sand out of these for days.”

Apollo chuckled, sitting up and shaking his head like a dog, sending water droplets flying. “I did promise I’d help you dry them off, didn’t I?”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, his wings still twitching as water dripped from the feathers. “You did,” he replied, voice half skeptical, half hopeful.

Apollo rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together. The warmth was almost immediate. A gentle glow pulsed from his palms, spreading warmth like the first touch of sunlight on a cold morning. “Come here, featherbrain. Let’s get those wings sorted out.”

Hermes grinned happily, settling down on the grass beside Apollo. He stretched out his legs, the ankle wings unfolding gingerly, droplets of water flicking off the ends. The head wings followed, trembling slightly as they opened up, catching the light in fragile, shimmering strands. “Be gentle,” Hermes teased, his voice softer now. “They’re delicate.”

Apollo snorted. “Oh, I’m well aware. You only reminded me a thousand times when you were younger.” He raised his hands, letting the warmth trickle down over Hermes' ankle wings, the droplets of water evaporating into tiny wisps of steam.

Hermes let out a soft sigh, his wings stretching a little further under the gentle heat. “That’s good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s really good.”

Telemachus wandered over, sitting cross-legged beside them, his eyes bright with curiosity. “How are you doing that?”

Apollo smiled, not looking away from Hermes' wings. “Sunlight,” he replied simply. “A bit of power I’ve learned to channel. Good for drying things out.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool!” He leaned closer, eyes fixed on the shimmering steam. “I didn’t know gods could do that.”

Hermes chuckled, his eyes half-lidded with relaxation. “Oh, Apollo’s got all kinds of tricks.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Even if he only uses them half the time.”

Apollo flicked him on the shoulder, laughing. “Careful. I might just leave you half-dry if you’re going to be rude.”

Hermes gasped, ankle wings flaring out dramatically. “You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, I would.” Apollo chuckled, then softened his touch, running his fingers gently along Hermes' head wings, feeling for stray bits of water. Hermes stiffened just a little, a shiver running through him.

Apollo paused, his eyes flicking back to Hermes' expression. “Too much?” he asked, his voice softening.

Hermes swallowed, shaking his head. “No... it’s fine.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just sensitive.”

Apollo nodded, his hands moving with more care, fingertips brushing along the edges of the head wings with gentle precision. “I remember,” he murmured. “You always twitched when I got near the tips.”

Hermes smiled, wings fluttering just slightly under Apollo’s hands. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were a nightmare,” Apollo teased. “Couldn’t get you to sit still for more than a minute. I’d have to pin you down just to get the sand out of these things.”

Telemachus laughed, eyes alight with amusement. “You pinned him down?”

“Well, I couldn’t. Little gremlin is stronger than he looks. But, he was no match for Ares.” Apollo grinned, shaking his head. 

Hermes gasped. “Hey! It wasn’t my fault. You always poked them!”

Apollo made no mind to Hermes, continuing his story. “You should’ve seen him. Wings flapping everywhere, shouting about how I was ‘ruining the feathers’ when all I was doing was cleaning them.” He gave Hermes' head wings one last pat, sending a small plume of steam into the air. “There. All dry.”

Hermes stretched them out gently, the feathers shimmering in the sunlight. “Not bad, Polly.” He flexed the wings, letting the light catch along the edges. “Not bad at all.”

But the satisfaction was short-lived. Hermes frowned, wiggling his ankle wings with a grimace. “Ugh, I can still feel sand in these. It’s gonna drive me insane.”

Apollo chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Tele, come here.” He gestured for Telemachus to sit beside him. “I’ll show you how to preen properly. That way, you can help him out too.”

Telemachus practically scampered over, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “Really? You can teach me?”

Apollo nodded, taking Telemachus’s hands in his own. “Here, watch closely.” He guided Telemachus’s fingers to the base of Hermes' ankle wing, right where the feathers met the skin. Hermes stiffened at the touch, wings giving a small, instinctive flutter.

“Easy,” Apollo murmured, his hands steady over Telemachus’s. “Ankle wings are a bit more sensitive than the head ones. You have to be gentle.”

Telemachus nodded solemnly, his fingers brushing delicately over the feathers, plucking out tiny grains of sand one by one. Hermes released a soft breath, his wings trembling slightly. “That’s…that’s good,” he murmured, his voice low and a bit unsteady.

“See? You’ve got it,” Apollo encouraged, smiling at Telemachus. “Just slow and gentle. Hermes can feel every feather you touch, so be mindful.”

Telemachus nodded again, his hands steady and deliberate. Apollo continued to work on the opposite ankle wing, fingers nimble and practiced. Hermes sat between them, eyes half-closed, his breath coming in slow, even waves. His wings twitched every so often, reacting to the touch, but he didn’t pull away.

The three of them stayed that way for a while, the sunlight filtering down through the leaves, dappling their skin and wings with patterns of light. Apollo and Telemachus worked with quiet concentration, pulling out bits of sand and smoothing the feathers back into place. Hermes sat between them, the tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders, a sense of peace settling over him that he hadn’t felt in ages.

Finally, Apollo leaned back, hands brushing against his knees. “There,” he said softly. “Good as new.”

Hermes stretched out his ankle wings, the feathers gleaming and smooth, not a grain of sand to be found. “You really haven’t lost your touch,” he murmured, voice warm with gratitude.

Apollo smiled, patting his back gently. “Never will.”

Telemachus beamed with pride, his hands still hovering near Hermes' wings. “Did I do okay?”

Hermes turned to him, his eyes bright. “You did great, Little Trickster.” He ruffled Telemachus’s hair. “I think I might have to keep you around.” He stood slowly, stretching his back. “Now come on. I believe we’re clean enough for your mother’s standards.”

“We better stay this way, Hermes. That means no more mischief from you.” Apollo said pointedly. Hermes gasped.

“Me? I would never!” But a grin flashed across his face. Telemachus huffed.

“Stop antagonizing each other.” He pointed at Hermes, “You may be the god of mischief, but you–” He turned and pointed to Apollo. “You are a great instigator.” The two brothers turned to each other and began laughing.

“Right you are, Tele. I need to get you away from Thena. She’s filling your head with all sorts of wisdom.” Hermes teased.

Notes:

I really hoped you all loved this chapter as much as I do. This is one of my favorite chapters I've written. Like ever.

Take care of yourselves my friends! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 41

Summary:

A bit of angst surrounded by a lot of fluff

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls of the parlor. Cushions were spread across the floor, soft blankets draped over the backs of chairs. Penelope sat gracefully beside Odysseus, her hand resting comfortably in his. Tiresias was settled beside Hermes, their hands loosely intertwined, while Apollo leaned back against the wall, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, looking more at ease than Hermes had ever seen him.

Telemachus was sprawled out on the floor, legs kicked up against the edge of the low table, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Come on, you promised!” he urged, glancing between Hermes and Apollo. “You’ve gotta tell me a story. A real one. None of this ‘I once delivered a letter to Sparta’ nonsense.” He shot Hermes a playful glare, to which Hermes scoffed.

“That letter was important!” Hermes protested, wings flickering in indignation. “King Menelaus was practically begging for news of–”

“No, no, no,” Telemachus interrupted, sitting up properly, his eyes shining with mischief. “I want the real stories. The good ones. The ones where you actually did something impressive.”

Hermes spluttered, wings flaring just slightly. “I’ve done plenty of impressive things, Little Wolf.”

Telemachus just raised an eyebrow, an expression so reminiscent of his father that Hermes almost laughed. “Then prove it.”

Apollo leaned forward, eyes gleaming with the familiar light of mischief. “Oh, I’ve got one,” he said smoothly, fingers steepled under his chin. Hermes' head snapped towards him, eyes widening.

“Polly, don’t–”

“Remember the time you decided to deliver three different messages at the same time across two different realms?" Apollo interrupted, ignoring Hermes' protests. “And you thought you’d be able to hop back and forth between Hades’ realm and Olympus without anyone noticing?”

Hermes groaned, burying his face in his hands. “We don’t need to tell that one,” he mumbled, wings curling tight against his ankles. Tiresias chuckled beside him, squeezing his hand gently.

“No, I think we definitely do,” Telemachus insisted, practically bouncing where he sat. “What happened?”

Apollo’s grin turned wicked. He straightened up, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Well,” he began, his voice taking on the smooth, dramatic cadence of a practiced storyteller, “Hermes here thought he could save time by delivering Hades’ message to Persephone, and drop off one of Zeus’s scrolls to Hera, and,” he paused for effect, leaning forward, “bring Demeter her favorite bouquet. All before dusk.”

Telemachus’s eyes grew wide, his mouth hanging open. “Did he make it?”

Apollo barked out a laugh. “Not even close!” he said, his eyes gleaming with delight. “He got to the Underworld just fine, gave Persephone her message. But then he thought he’d have time for a quick chat, and you know Persephone, never one for short conversations.”

Hermes groaned again, covering his face with both hands. “She just wanted to talk about flowers!” he protested weakly. “She was lonely. It felt rude to leave!”

Apollo grinned. “But by the time he got back to Olympus, Hera was in rare form. He walked right in, covered in ashes from the riverbank, clutching this soaked scroll, and she,” Apollo leaned back, laughing. “She actually threw him out of the throne room!”

Telemachus’s eyes were as round as dinner plates. “She threw you out?” he whispered, voice trembling between awe and disbelief.

Hermes peeked through his fingers, cheeks flushed. “I-I wasn’t thrown out. She just suggested I leave through the nearest window.” His wings fluttered sheepishly.

Odysseus choked on his drink, setting his cup down with a thunk. “And you went?”

Hermes huffed indignantly, sitting up straighter. “I didn’t exactly have a choice. When Hera gets that look in her eye…” He shuddered dramatically. “I value my life, thank you.”

Telemachus burst into laughter, clutching his sides. “And Demeter?” he gasped. “Did you make it to her?”

Apollo’s grin turned positively wicked. “Oh, that’s the best part. He forgot the flowers.”

Hermes flared his wings, feathers bristling. “I did not forget! They were just…temporarily misplaced.”

“Scattered across the fields outside Olympus,” Apollo clarified, laughing so hard he nearly doubled over. “Everywhere. Took three nymphs and a satyr to gather them all back up.”

Telemachus was practically rolling on the floor, and even Tiresias’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. “I didn’t know the god of messengers could lose things,” Telemachus wheezed, wiping his eyes.

Hermes crossed his arms stubbornly. “I don’t lose things,” he grumbled, his wings twitching indignantly. “I just occasionally misplace them. Temporarily.”

Penelope smiled gently, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, it sounds like you made quite the adventure out of it.”

Apollo sat up, grinning wide and wicked. “Oh, I’m just getting started. You should hear about the time he tried to race Eos across the sky.”

Hermes bolted upright, wings flaring out behind him. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly, cheeks flushed crimson. “That one stays buried.”

Apollo’s grin only grew wider. “I don’t know, Little Wolf. What do you think?” He glanced over at Telemachus, whose eyes were shining with mischief. “Should we dig it up?”

Telemachus beamed. “Oh, definitely.”

Hermes groaned, running a hand through his curls. “I am never going to live this down, am I?”

“Not in a thousand years, little brother,” Apollo laughed, settling back down comfortably. “Not in a thousand years.”

Apollo’s grin was downright wicked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, it was glorious. Hermes thought he could beat the dawn itself. So there he was, wings flapping like a madman, trying to outrun the sunrise.”

Hermes groaned loudly, wings fluttering in pure exasperation. “I was fifty, Polly!” He whined, burying his head into Tiresias’s shoulder. The prophet laughed warmly, hand rising to gently cradle the back of Hermes’ head.

“Oh, I know,” Apollo said, leaning back with a look of utter satisfaction. “That’s what made it so entertaining. Eos was practically laughing the whole time, she flew backwards for part of it just to mess with you.”

Telemachus was practically hanging off the edge of his seat, eyes wide with wonder. “Did you really try to race the sunrise?” he asked, voice filled with awe.

Hermes huffed, crossing his arms tightly. “I would have won, too, if someone hadn’t told Eos I was coming,” he shot back, his gaze landing accusingly on Apollo.

Apollo’s grin didn’t fade. “I couldn’t resist. It was the best entertainment I’d had in centuries.”

“Oh, is that right?” Hermes tilted his head, a sly smile spreading across his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Funny you should mention that. Because I seem to recall someone getting absolutely flattened by a herd of cattle.”

Apollo stiffened immediately, his grin faltering. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would,” Hermes shot back, wings flicking up proudly. He straightened in his seat, eyes glimmering with delight. “So, Little Trickster, did Apollo ever tell you about the time he tried to herd cattle on his own?”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Wait, Apollo herded cattle? Like a farmer?”

Hermes clasped his hands together, rubbing them like he was about to dive into the most delicious tale he’d ever told. “Oh, it wasn’t just any cattle. It was Helios’s prize herd. The sun god’s most prized possession.” He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “You see, Polly here thought that just because he’s the god of light, he could wrangle up the sun god’s cows like it was nothing. After all, if I could steal his at a day old, it couldn’t be that hard, right?”

Apollo shifted uncomfortably, already seeing where this was going. “Hermes,” he warned, his voice tight.

Hermes ignored him entirely, his grin only widening. “But here’s the thing,” he continued, his voice practically dripping with glee. “Helios’s cattle aren’t just any cattle. They’re sun-touched. Magic. Which means they do not take kindly to being told what to do. Especially by someone who smells like ambrosia and sunlight.”

Telemachus leaned in closer, eyes sparkling. “What happened?”

Hermes took a deep breath, clearly savoring the moment. “Oh, it was glorious. Polly marched up to them, all confident, ‘Herding is easy,’ he said. ‘You just nudge them along.’ So he did. He nudged. And they scattered.” Hermes threw his hands up for dramatic effect. “And I mean scattered. Like fireflies in the wind. They went in every direction. I’ve never seen a god so thoroughly outmaneuvered.”

Odysseus chuckled from his place by the fire, shaking his head. “Helios’s cattle, you say? I don’t envy you that task, Apollo. Even I wouldn’t dare try my hand at herding those monsters. Or messing with them in general. Not again.” His voice was laced with knowing amusement.

Penelope, who had been stitching beside the fire, paused to smile over her work. “I would’ve liked to have seen that. A god brought to heel by a few cows.” She gave Apollo a teasing grin. “And here I thought you were invincible.”

Apollo crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “I would have been fine if someone hadn’t convinced the satyrs to join in and spook them.”

Hermes shrugged innocently. “What can I say? I wanted a good show.” He smirked, turning back to Telemachus. “Polly chased those cows from dawn until dusk. Got kicked twice, mind you, and ended up face-first in a mud pit trying to wrestle the last one back.”

Telemachus was howling with laughter, practically falling sideways against Hermes. “You wrestled a cow?”

Apollo’s expression was deadly serious. “It was stronger than it looked.”

Tiresias tilted his head in Hermes' direction, his mouth twitching with a smile. “And yet, I’m willing to wager you still told everyone you won that battle, didn’t you, Apollo?”

Apollo sniffed, lifting his chin. “Of course, I did. You don’t tell stories about losing to cows. That’s just embarrassing.”

“Oh, but it happened,” Hermes teased, wings fluttering. “In fact, I’m pretty sure there’s still a hoof-shaped dent in Helios’s pasture fence.”

Telemachus leaned against Hermes, still laughing too hard to speak. Hermes, triumphant and grinning like a fox, draped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “See, Little Wolf, don’t let him fool you. For all his shining, sparkling light, Polly’s just as much a disaster as the rest of us.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, but there was a smile pulling at his lips. “Keep talking, Hermes. I’ve got plenty more stories where that came from.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Hermes shot back, wings fluttering. “But I don’t think Telemachus is ready for the one where you got trapped in your own temple for two days.”

Telemachus gasped, turning wide eyes to Apollo. “You got stuck in your own temple?”

Apollo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hermes, I swear–”

“Oh no, I want to hear this,” Penelope chimed in, setting her stitching aside. She leaned forward, eyes sparkling with interest. “That sounds like quite the tale.”

Odysseus chuckled, gesturing toward Apollo. “Come on then, Sun God. Let’s hear it.”

Apollo groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re all conspiring against me.”

Tiresias chuckled, tapping his staff lightly against the stone. “Consider it justice for all the teasing you’ve done so far.” His voice was warm with affection, the soft smile on his face a testament to just how much he was enjoying the banter.

Hermes patted Apollo’s shoulder with mock sympathy. “Face it, Polly. This is your life now. Storytime, and you’re the main act.”

Telemachus beamed, practically vibrating with excitement. “Come on, Apollo! Tell us!”

Apollo’s breath caught. His gaze flickered to Telemachus, eyes wide and bright with surprise. His expression softened almost instantly, a warmth spreading across his features that seemed to make him glow just a little bit brighter. “I…well,” he stammered, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “I suppose I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Penelope smiled knowingly, her eyes catching Odysseus’s in a shared look of understanding. Hermes, for once, didn’t tease. He just watched his brother, wings fluttering gently, eyes filled with something soft and almost fragile.

Apollo finally looked up, resigned but grinning. “I don’t know, I think I’d rather tell you the time that Hermes and I thought it would be a good idea to steal ambrosia from Zeus’s table. What do you say?”

Hermes slapped his forehead, wings flaring slightly. “Oh gods, not that one.”

Apollo only grinned wider. “Oh yes. That one.”

Telemachus sat up straighter, eyes bright with anticipation. “Did you get caught?”

“Wait wait wait. We really don’t need to tell that one. How about I tell you about when Apollo tried to outshine Helios?” Hermes countered. Apollo glared at him.

“No. Maybe they’d like to hear how you thought you could swim down to Poseidon to give him a message?” Apollo shot back. “How you showed back up on Olympus looking like such a scraggly little bird.”

Hermes stuck his tongue out. “Well maybe they want to hear about the time you gave yourself a haircut, trying to match the style of a small village and ended up having to hide your hair for months.”

Apollo gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

Hermes grinned. “Try me.”

Apollo leaned forwards, grabbing Hermes by the ankles, always mindful of his brother’s delicate wings, and pulling him out of Tiresias’s arms, onto the floor next to him. Hermes shrieked, giggling.

“Boys, boys. It sounds like you have so many tales to tell and I’m sure we’ll hear them all eventually.” Penelope said. Apollo looked up, grip loosening just enough for Hermes to wiggle out and escape.

“Awww, I lost my catch. What kind of hunter am I?” He sighed, flashing an smile at Hermes that clearly said this isn’t over. Hermes let out a small eep! and curled into Tiresias.

“Starlight, help! He’s scaring me.” Hermes giggled. Tiresias sighed.

“Silly bird, maybe if you stop antagonizing your brother. He’ll stop retaliating.” Tiresias chuckled. Hermes huffed.

“But he’s so fun to tease,” he whined.

“And you’re so fun to tickle.” Apollo grinned.

“No. Polly, no.” Hermes said. 

“Not tonight. But I promise, brother, it will happen. You better be on your guard.” Apollo laughed. Odysseus and Penelope laughed with him. Telemachus yawned. Odysseus gently pat him on the head.

“Off to bed, son. You’ve got training with the soldiers tomorrow.” He said fondly. Telemachus nodded, murmured a sleepy good night to the room and walked off.

“I think we’ll actually be off as well. Enjoy your evening. Our home is your home.” Odysseus bid warmly. Penelope nodded.

“You’re more than welcome to stay the night if you’d like, Lord Apollo. There’s a room next to Hermes and Tiresias’s that’s open.” She said. Apollo was touched.

“Thank you, Lady Penelope. I just might take you up on that offer.” He said, smiling softly.

As the two left the room, hand in hand, Apollo turned back to Hermes.

“Polly? Are you gonna stay?” Hermes asked. Apollo hesitated.

“I’ll be back, but I’ve neglected some duties today, and I don’t want to give Father reason to punish me. But I’ll be back later.” He said. Hermes nodded.

“Good. It’s nice having you here. I’ve got my whole family with me.” He murmured.

Apollo smiled, ruffling Hermes’ hair warmly as he stepped outside, shimmering into the night sky, off to attend to whatever he needed to do.

Tiresias’s hand rested on Hermes' shoulder, grounding and steady. For a moment, silence settled between them, easy and familiar. Hermes leaned back, wings stretching just slightly before curling back against his calves. He let out a slow, contented breath, his eyes softening as he gazed into the flickering flames.

“Would you like to walk with me?” Tiresias asked gently, their hand slipping from Hermes' shoulder to find his hand, fingers curling around his own. Hermes blinked, glancing up in surprise, but his wings fluttered in response, the gesture instinctive.

“A walk?” he repeated, voice soft. “It’s late.”

Tiresias only smiled, his head tilting slightly toward the door. “It’s never too late to wander under the stars.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, this time more assured, and he stood, fingers still entwined with Tiresias’s. “Alright, Starlight. Lead the way.”

The halls were quiet as they walked, the soft tap of Tiresias’s staff echoing off the stone floors. Hermes' wings twitched occasionally, catching the moonlight that filtered through the high, arched windows. He led Tiresias gently, careful with each step, murmuring directions or lifting his hand to guide them around corners.

When they reached the gardens, the air felt softer somehow, filled with the scent of lavender and olive blossoms. The moon hung low in the sky, casting pale silver light over the winding paths and tangled vines. Hermes took a deep breath, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles. “It’s beautiful tonight,” he murmured.

Tiresias smiled, his head tilting back just slightly as if feeling the moonlight on his face. “It is,” they agreed, their voice tender. “You always did like the stars.”

Hermes chuckled, nudging Tiresias gently. “I did,” he said softly. “I still do.” He hesitated, his wings giving a tiny flicker. “I used to try to fly up and touch them sometimes.” His voice was wistful, distant. “I never could quite reach them. Air gets thin up there. I almost blacked out once, lost track of myself.” He frowned. “Polly caught me, or, he sent Thena to catch me, before I could get too hurt.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened, just slightly. “Reckless little bird,” they murmured, voice heavy with affection.

Hermes' smile faltered, his wings curling inward. “I guess I just...I always thought I was untouchable.” He laughed, a soft, hollow sound. “I was wrong.”

Tiresias paused, their hand still entwined with his. “But you survived,” they said gently, voice firm. “You were cast out of the heavens and you survived. You found your way here.” His hand cupped his cheek, warm and steady. “You are here now. And you are loved.”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings fluttering in a gentle staccato. He leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping closed. “I know,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I know, Starlight.”

For a long moment, they stood in the moonlight, the soft breeze rustling the olive branches above them. Tiresias’s thumb brushed over Hermes' cheek, slow and deliberate. Their voice softened to almost a whisper. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

Hermes stiffened, wings going rigid. His gaze fell to the ground, and he took a half-step back, slipping out of Tiresias’s hold. “I…I don’t–”

Tiresias’s hand found his again, fingers curling gently. “You don’t have to hide it from me,” he murmured, his voice soft and unyielding. “Not from me, sweet bird.”

Hermes' wings trembled, his hands flexing instinctively, fingers curling and uncurling. He swallowed hard, eyes trained on the ground, the moonlight catching the curve of his cheek, glimmering against unshed tears. “I-it wasn’t anything new,” he whispered finally, voice cracking. “Not really.”

Tiresias’s grip tightened, just slightly. “Hermes.”

Hermes flinched at the softness in their tone, his wings curling in tighter against his ankles. “He was angry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Angrier than I’ve seen him in a long time.” His hand drifted up to his cheek, almost unconsciously. “I said I wasn’t alone. That I still had family. And he…he didn’t like that.”

Tiresias’s breath shuddered out, their hand coming up to gently brush against Hermes' cheek, just where his fingers had settled. “He struck you?” they asked, voice soft but taut with restrained emotion.

Hermes swallowed, his wings giving the tiniest of flutters. “Just once,” he murmured. “It’s not… It’s not a big deal. He’s done worse before when he gets angry. Poor Ares always gets–” He tried to play it off.

“It is,” Tiresias replied firmly, gently stopping the messenger, his hand cradling his cheek with gentle reverence. “It is a big deal. And you don’t have to pretend it isn’t.” Their fingers brushed softly over the spot, light as a whisper. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Hermes' wings trembled, and for a moment, he seemed like he might argue, but then he sighed, the tension bleeding from his shoulders as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Tiresias’s shoulder. “I don’t know how much more of him I can take,” he whispered, voice small and raw. “I-I know that’s what he wants. To break me, to hurt me, but I don’t…I don’t know how much more I can handle.”

Tiresias’s arms came around him then, steady and unyielding. “You don’t have to handle it alone,” they murmured into his hair, voice firm and certain. “You have me. You have all of us now.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out, and his hands gripped at Tiresias’s tunic, clutching tightly as if afraid to let go. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Thank you, Starlight.”

Tiresias pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, lingering for a long moment. “Always.”

Hermes' breath came in slow, shuddering waves as he stood there, cradled in Tiresias’s arms. The night air was soft and cool, carrying the faint scent of olive blossoms and lavender. The moon hung low in the sky, its light gentle and silver, casting long shadows across the garden. It was quiet, blissfully, perfectly quiet. Just the rustle of leaves and the soft, rhythmic tap of Tiresias’s hand against his back, grounding him.

Hermes sagged a little more, his wings giving a weak flutter as he leaned fully into the embrace. His hands clutched at the fabric of Tiresias's tunic, knuckles white with the grip. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, not yet, but the weight of everything pressed heavy against his chest, catching in his throat and stealing his breath.

Tiresias’s hand moved slowly, fingers tracing gentle, reassuring patterns along his spine. “It’s alright, sweet bird,” they murmured, voice soft and unhurried. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered weakly, and he sniffed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just…I’m so tired,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could catch them. His hands fisted tighter in the fabric, shoulders trembling. “I’m so tired of fighting. Of running. Of…of him.”

Tiresias’s hand moved up to cradle the back of his head, thumb brushing soothingly along his hairline. “I know,” they whispered. “You don’t have to run anymore. Not here. Not with me.” His hand moved to his head wings, gently running fingers through the downy feathers. Hermes shivered at the touch, instinctively pressing closer.

Hermes' breath hitched, and he felt the dam crack just a little, a shuddering breath escaping him. “He said I wasn’t…his. He said I wasn’t anyone’s.” His wings flickered with the memory, and his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead pressing harder against Tiresias’s shoulder. “He said I didn’t belong anywhere.” His voice broke on the last word, cracking painfully in the stillness of the garden.

Tiresias’s grip tightened, and their other hand came up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye. “That isn’t true,” he whispered fiercely. “You are mine. You are ours. You belong right here, Hermes.” His voice dropped, barely more than a breath. “You belong with me.”

That did it. The dam broke, and Hermes' wings gave a violent, shuddering tremor. A sob escaped him, quiet and raw, as if it had been trapped in his chest for centuries. His hands curled tighter into Tiresias’s tunic, and he sank forward, his knees nearly giving out. Tiresias caught him easily, hands steady and sure, holding him close, cradling him as if he were something precious.

“I’m sorry,” Hermes choked out, voice muffled by the fabric of Tiresias’s tunic. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t–”

“No.” Tiresias’s voice was gentle but firm, his hand smoothing over Hermes' head wings with infinite care. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for this.” They tilted his head up, their fingers brushing through the damp trails on his cheeks. “Let yourself break, sweet bird. I’m here. I’ll catch you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered pathetically, and he tried to bite back another sob, but it escaped anyway, raw and unrestrained. His knees buckled, and Tiresias moved with him, guiding them both to the soft grass. They held him, gentle and unwavering, as the god wept, silent and shuddering at first, but it grew, the weight of centuries finally too heavy to bear alone.

Tiresias murmured soft words, fingers threading through his hair, brushing the edges of his wings with reverence. “That’s it,” they whispered. “Let it out, my sweet bird. I’ve got you. You’ve been holding this in for so long, haven’t you?”

Hermes nodded. “I just…I didn’t want to be,” he took a shuddering breath, “to be a burden. My pain–”

“Never, my love. You are never a burden. Your feelings are never a burden. I will always be here for you.” Tiresias whispered.

Hermes shook his head, wings flapping weakly. “I don’t…I don’t deserve,” His voice cracked, and Tiresias shushed him gently, fingers brushing his cheek.

“You deserve everything,” they whispered, voice breaking just slightly. “Every bit of love. Every bit of comfort. And I will keep reminding you of that until you believe it.”

Hermes' hands clenched in Tiresias’s tunic, and he gasped out another sob, the sound ragged and broken. His wings gave a feeble flutter, and he pressed his face further into the crook of Tiresias’s shoulder, letting the tears come. He felt fragile, more fragile than he’d ever been, but he didn’t fall apart. Not entirely. Tiresias held him together, arms firm and unyielding, voice soft and steady.

He didn’t know how long they stayed that way, minutes, hours, maybe, but when the tears finally began to slow, Hermes felt…lighter. His wings still trembled, and his breath came in uneven gulps, but there was something softer around the edges of the ache. Something warm and steady.

Tiresias’s hands were still moving gently along his back, tracing soft, familiar patterns. “Feel a bit better, sweet bird?” they murmured, voice tender and full of something achingly soft.

Hermes sniffled, pulling back just slightly to look up at them. His eyes were red-rimmed, cheeks streaked with tears, but his gaze was clearer, like the storm had finally, finally begun to settle. “A little,” he whispered, voice shaky but honest. “Yeah, a little.”

Tiresias smiled, brushing their thumb over his cheek. “Good.” Their voice dropped to a whisper. “And if you ever need to do that again, I will be here to catch you. You don’t have to be brave in front of me.”

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering gently against the grass. “I know.” He looked down, cheeks coloring just slightly. “Thank you.”

Tiresias only smiled, their hand moving back to rest against the back of his head. “Always, sweet bird.”

The night stretched long and soft around them, the garden bathed in moonlight. Tiresias’s hand moved in gentle circles against Hermes' back, slow and steady, until the god’s breath evened out, no longer shaking with the weight of unshed tears. For a long while, neither spoke. It was just the quiet symphony of the garden, the rustling leaves, the distant chirping of cicadas, the whisper of wind through olive branches.

Tiresias’s voice broke the silence, soft and tender. “Come on, sweet bird,” he murmured, thumb brushing the edge of Hermes' cheek. “Let’s get you inside.”

Hermes blinked slowly, his wings giving a tired flutter. “But the stars are so nice,” he mumbled, voice thick with lingering emotion. His eyes drifted upward, catching on the glittering constellations that sprawled across the night sky. His hands were still curled loosely in the fabric of Tiresias’s tunic, reluctant to let go.

Tiresias smiled, their hands threading gently through Hermes' hair, brushing against the small wings on either side of his head with infinite care. “They’ll still be there tomorrow,” they whispered, voice soft and knowing. “And you’ll be able to see them better when you’ve rested.”

Hermes huffed a tiny laugh, leaning into the touch. “Promise?”

Tiresias’s hand cupped the back of his head, fingers gentle and warm. “Promise,” they replied, voice steady and sure.

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering once before settling back against his ankles. With Tiresias’s guidance, they both stood, and Hermes swayed slightly on his feet. Tiresias’s hand found his elbow instantly, steadying him, and Hermes shot them a grateful smile.

They walked back toward the palace, steps slow and unhurried. Tiresias kept a grounding hand at Hermes' elbow, his staff tapping softly against the stone path. Hermes found himself leaning into the touch, not out of necessity, but out of comfort. The gentle pressure of Tiresias’s hand was enough to remind him he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

The palace was quiet, the lamps dimmed to a soft glow. They moved through the winding corridors until they reached their shared room, the door creaking softly as Tiresias pushed it open.

The familiar scent of lavender and thyme greeted them, warm and inviting. Hermes sighed as they stepped inside, his wings fluttering as if shedding the last remnants of tension clinging to him. Tiresias led him gently to the bed, their hands never leaving his.

“Sit, sweet bird,” they murmured, voice soft and affectionate. Hermes obeyed, wings fluttering slightly as he sank down onto the edge of the bed. Tiresias moved beside him, hands finding his shoulders and rubbing gentle circles there, grounding him.

For a moment, neither spoke. Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle path, kneading out the knots of tension that lingered between Hermes' shoulder blades. Hermes' eyes drifted closed, his breath evening out, his wings giving a soft, contented flutter.

When Tiresias finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “You are so strong,” he murmured, voice filled with reverence. “And you are so loved.” He hand brushed against the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Hermes blinked slowly, eyes flickering open. His gaze found Tiresias’s beautiful silver eyes. He reached up, his fingers brushing along Tiresias’s jaw with a feather-light touch. “I won’t,” he whispered back. “Not with you here to remind me.”

Tiresias smiled, the expression so soft and tender it made Hermes' breath catch. Slowly, Tiresias leaned forward, their hand cupping the back of Hermes' neck, guiding him gently. Hermes' eyes fluttered shut, his wings giving the tiniest tremor of anticipation before their lips met.

It was soft, softer than the moonlight spilling through the window, softer than the whisper of leaves outside. Tiresias’s hand cradled his cheek, thumb brushing delicately over the curve of his jaw. Hermes leaned in, his hands reaching out to curl into the fabric of Tiresias’s tunic, grounding himself in the sensation.

Time stretched out, the world narrowing to just this, just the gentle press of Tiresias’s lips against his, just the steady rhythm of their breath mingling in the quiet of the room. Hermes sighed into the kiss, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles, brushing against the sheets.

When they finally pulled back, Tiresias rested their forehead against Hermes', their breath mingling in the small space between them. Their hands stayed at Hermes' cheeks, thumbs brushing tenderly against his skin.

“Stay with me?” Hermes whispered, voice fragile but steady.

Tiresias’s smile was achingly tender. “Always,” they promised.

Hermes' wings gave a tiny flicker of contentment, and Tiresias helped him shift back onto the bed, pulling the blankets up around them both. Hermes curled against them, his head resting on their chest, the steady rhythm of Tiresias’s heartbeat lulling him into peace. Tiresias’s hand moved gently through his hair, fingers brushing the tiny wings at his temples with infinite care.

The moonlight spilled in soft and quiet, and the garden outside whispered with the wind. But Hermes didn’t hear it. All he knew was the warmth of Tiresias’s arms, the gentle hum of their breathing, and the steady, unyielding promise of love that held him close.

“Goodnight, my sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes' eyes fluttered shut, and his wings gave one last, gentle tremor of contentment. “Goodnight, Starlight,” he breathed, his voice soft and full of warmth.

And Hermes slept, deep and dreamless, cocooned in the safety of love.

Notes:

Gods I love them. They're too cute and make me feel way too lonely.

Now, go take care of yourselves! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 42

Summary:

Just brothers being brothers. Happiness.

The morning sun slipped through the curtains, casting thin stripes of light across the stone floor. The palace was still steeped in silence, the kind that only exists in the tender moments just before dawn. Hermes woke to the soft rise and fall of Tiresias’s breathing, his head still nestled against their chest, limbs tangled beneath the thick blankets.

He blinked slowly, the haze of sleep drifting away as sunlight warmed his face. Tiresias’s hand was resting gently in his hair, fingers still curled in the tousled strands. Hermes stared for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips. The serenity of it all made him want to stay just a little while longer.

But then his eyes flickered to the thin shaft of sunlight inching across the floor, the light creeping steadily higher. He grinned, a mischievous spark lighting in his eyes. It was still early, the palace still quiet, and a whole morning of opportunity lay in front of him.

Carefully, so carefully, Hermes slipped out from under Tiresias’s arm, fluffing the blankets just enough to keep them warm. Tiresias mumbled something unintelligible, their hand shifting to the empty space where Hermes had been, waking slightly. 

“Hermes?” He mumbled. The messenger bent down and pressed the gentlest of kisses to their forehead.

“Back soon, Starlight. It’s mischief time.” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. He straightened, stretching his wings with a satisfying flutter before slipping out the door. The hallway was silent, the faintest trickle of morning light seeping in through the high windows. Hermes moved with the practiced grace of a messenger god, barely a whisper of sound marking his passage.

First, he tiptoed down the corridor to Penelope’s study, where the maps of Ithaca were rolled up in perfect order. He grinned, swiping one of the older, slightly worn ones from the stack and tucking it under his arm.

“Step one,” he whispered to himself, a glimmer of excitement sparkling in his eyes.

Next, he slipped into the small kitchen where a basket of fresh bread sat, still warm from the morning’s baking. He plucked two rolls, one for himself and one for Apollo. “Can’t have mischief on an empty stomach,” he whispered conspiratorially to the bread, grinning as he pocketed them.

Finally, he padded down the hall to the guest quarters where Apollo had been offered a room. The door was closed, the soft murmur of light snoring audible even from the hallway. Hermes rubbed his hands together, wings fluttering in anticipation.

“Here we go,” he whispered, and then he shoved the door open, hard.

“Polly!” Hermes shouted, barreling into the room with the enthusiasm of a gale-force wind. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” He leaped onto the edge of the bed, wings flaring out for balance, and started bouncing, sending pillows tumbling to the floor.

Apollo woke with a start, flailing slightly as the mattress bounced beneath him. “What in the name of, Hermes!” he groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “It’s barely dawn!”

“Dawn is the perfect time for mischief,” Hermes chirped, not pausing his bouncing. “And you, my dear brother, are late.”

Apollo peered up at him from under his arm, blinking sleepily. “Late for what? I don’t recall agreeing to anything.” His voice was muffled, still thick with sleep.

Hermes grinned wickedly. “Late for whatever I have planned. And trust me, Polly, you don’t want to miss it.” He held up the rolls as if they were the grandest of treasures. “I even brought breakfast. So up, up, up! We’ve got a whole morning to ourselves.”

Apollo groaned again but pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes and stretching with a dramatic yawn. “You are impossible. I had hoped you would have grown out of this my now.” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

“And yet, here you are and here I am.” Hermes threw him one of the rolls, which Apollo caught with a sleepy but amused grin. “I thought you’d appreciate some morning chaos.”

Apollo took a bite of the bread, chewing thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow. “You dragged me out of bed for chaos?” he asked, mouth still half-full.

Hermes' grin only widened. “Obviously.” He plopped down at the end of the bed, wings flaring out behind him. “Now come on, I’ve got plans. Big plans. Ithaca is waiting.”

Apollo stretched again. He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Hermes just winked, finishing off his roll in one quick bite. “I’m your little brother. It’s basically my job description.”

Apollo finally stood, running a hand through his tousled curls. “Alright then. Lead the way, Chaos Incarnate.”

Hermes hopped off the bed, wings flapping excitedly. “Oh, I intend to.”

With that, Hermes bounded out of the room, Apollo trailing behind him, eyes still blinking the sleep away but a smile now firmly in place.

“Where are we going first?” Apollo called, fastening his sandals as he walked.

Hermes looked back over his shoulder, grin full of mischief. “You’ll see.”

Apollo rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not today!” Hermes laughed, picking up the pace. “Today, you’re going to help me cause just the right amount of trouble.”

They reached the courtyard just as the morning sun crested the horizon, spilling golden light across the stone paths. Hermes paused, turning back to Apollo with a grin. “Ready?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, his own grin beginning to mirror Hermes'. “Born ready.”

Hermes led the way, wings fluttering with each step, his energy almost infectious. “Alright, first things first,” he declared, twirling the rolled-up map of Ithaca in his hands. “I was thinking we could, you know, maybe switch up the labels on the supply crates in the courtyard. Just a little. Nothing drastic, just confusing enough to make the guards wonder if they’ve lost their minds.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, a grin already teasing the edges of his mouth. “That’s what you want to start with? Subtle chaos?”

Hermes spun on his heel, walking backward with the ease of someone who knew exactly where every stone was. “Subtle chaos is the best kind. It’s the perfect warm-up.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You scared of a little trouble, Polly?”

Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “Scared? Of you?” He feigned a yawn, stretching dramatically. “Oh, please.”

Hermes laughed, spinning back around. “I knew it. You’re going soft.” He flapped his wings for emphasis, sending a light flurry of dust scattering. “If you can’t handle it, I could always find Telemachus. I’m sure he’d–”

“Keep your guard up, brother.”

Hermes stopped dead in his tracks, wings flaring instinctively. He turned, but Apollo was standing casually, arms crossed, leaning against one of the stone pillars with a smirk that was all teeth. “What?” Hermes asked, wings fluttering nervously. “What do you mean, ‘keep my guard up’?”

Apollo’s grin grew wider. “I told you last night, didn’t I? You better be on your guard.” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “And I always keep my promises.”

Hermes blinked, and in that blink, Apollo was gone. “Polly?” he called out, wings flaring just slightly. He turned, scanning the courtyard. Nothing. “Polly, I swear if you’re messing with me–”

The words had barely left his mouth when hands shot out from behind him, grabbing his waist and hoisting him straight off the ground. Hermes shrieked, wings flapping wildly in protest. “AH! Apollo! Put me down!”

Apollo laughed, spinning him around effortlessly, dodging flailing wings and frantic kicks. “I told you,” he said, voice smug with satisfaction. “I warned you.”

Hermes squirmed, his wings flapping desperately, but Apollo’s grip was solid. “This isn’t fair! I didn’t even do anything yet!” Hermes protested, his voice pitching up with every word.

Apollo raised an eyebrow, still holding him off the ground. “Oh, so you’re saying you were going to do something? That’s preemptive punishment then.” He swung Hermes lightly in his arms, making the messenger god squeak.

“You can’t just punish me for things I might do!” Hermes protested, wings fluttering indignantly. “That’s not how this works!”

“Oh, I think it is.” Apollo grinned, adjusting his grip to avoid Hermes' flailing legs. “I’m the older brother. I make the rules.”

Hermes let out a huff, crossing his arms despite dangling helplessly. “This is abuse of power, you know. Completely unfair.”

Apollo gasped dramatically. “Me? Unfair? I’m offended, Hermes. I’d never–”

Hermes didn’t let him finish. He wriggled with all his might, managing to twist halfway out of Apollo’s grip. “You won’t catch me this time!” Hermes shouted, wings flaring for emphasis. He managed to slip just enough to get his feet back on the ground. With a burst of momentum, he took off running, wings flapping for balance as he bolted toward the main courtyard.

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that!” Apollo shouted after him, laughter in his voice. “I was just playing nice before!”

Hermes threw a look over his shoulder, sticking out his tongue. “Catch me if you can, sun boy!”

For a moment, Apollo was brought back to mornings on Olympus when Hermes was still quite young. Being woken even before Helios had begun to rise, by eager eyes and mischievous smiles. Or of afternoons spent chasing that same smile around the halls, dodging gods and goddesses. Apollo had once longed for those days, before Hermes’ world had become so full of duties and responsibility, everyone always needing something from him. And now, as he watched his brother race away from him, he saw the joy in his eyes. Unburdened by duty, carefree, and he realized, Hermes was happy. 

“Oh, I will! But you know what will happen when I catch you. Just because you’ve grown doesn’t mean you can escape the punishment set for trickster gods.” Apollo’s grin was wide and bright, and without another word, he took off after Hermes. His strides were long and steady, practically gliding across the stone paths.

Hermes was fast, darting around corners and ducking under low branches, his wings giving him just enough extra speed to stay ahead. But Apollo was relentless, his footsteps growing louder behind him.

Hermes rounded the edge of the courtyard, darting into the shade of the olive trees, wings flaring as he wove between the trunks. “You can’t catch me! I’m the god of speed!” he shouted back, laughter bubbling out of him.

Apollo’s voice was smooth, entirely unbothered. “I think you’re forgetting I’m the god of prophecy, little brother.” His footsteps slowed, but his voice carried. “I always know where you’re going.”

Hermes skidded to a stop, eyes wide. “That’s cheating!”

“That’s divine intervention,” Apollo corrected smugly. Hermes whipped around just in time to see Apollo materialize around the other side of the olive tree, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place.

Hermes' wings flared. “That’s not fair!”

Apollo only grinned, reaching out and plucking a stray olive off the branch above his head. He tossed it in the air, catching it smoothly. “I warned you to keep your guard up.”

Hermes huffed, hands on his hips. “You’re insufferable.”

Apollo’s grin didn’t falter. “And you’re predictable.” He lobbed the olive at Hermes, who squawked and barely managed to duck.

“You’re going to regret that!” Hermes declared, wings flaring out.

Apollo only raised an eyebrow. “Is that a promise?”

Hermes' grin matched his brother’s. “Oh, you bet it is.”

Apollo laughed, the sound ringing through the courtyard. “I look forward to it.”

They stood there for a moment, the morning sun filtering through the leaves, the air still sweet with the promise of mischief. Hermes' wings fluttered with excitement, and Apollo’s gaze softened, just for a heartbeat. “I missed this,” he said quietly, his smile turning warm.

Hermes' grin softened too. “Me too.”

A beat passed, and then Apollo straightened. “But don’t think for a second that you’re safe. I’ve got plans, little brother. Big plans.”

Hermes' wings flared with anticipation. “Bring it on.”

Apollo feigned boredom. “So, what was this big prank you had planned.

Hermes’ eyes lit up. “Follow me,” he beckoned, skipping away, his wings fluttering with renewed energy, eyes alight with purpose. Apollo followed close behind, hands tucked behind his back, his expression both amused and wary. 

Hermes turned, walking backward with that familiar, impossible grace. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, wings flaring just slightly for balance. “I guess you’ll just have to find out.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “You forget I can see the future,” he reminded, his grin widening.

Hermes scoffed, turning back around and waving a hand dismissively. “Please. I bet you couldn’t predict your way out of a paper bag.”

Apollo laughed, the sound rich and full. “Big talk for someone who got thrown off a cliff by a god of prophecy.”

Hermes spun around again, pointing a finger at Apollo. “Hey, that was a fluke,” he countered. “Besides, I’m just getting warmed up.”

They continued through the winding paths of the palace grounds, olive trees stretching above them and the distant sound of the sea murmuring in the background. Apollo watched as Hermes' gaze darted around, studying the layout, eyes sharp and calculating. His wings gave the occasional twitch, flicking off the remaining droplets of water from their earlier scuffle.

“What are you looking for?” Apollo asked, voice low and teasing.

Hermes just grinned, tapping his temple. “You’ll see.”

They rounded the corner, and Hermes came to a stop in front of a narrow corridor that branched off from the main path. Apollo raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “The servants’ entrance?” he questioned, recognizing the narrow stone archway.

Hermes nodded, wings fluttering with excitement. “That’s right. No one really uses it unless there’s a feast. All the food and supplies come through here.” He smirked, hands on his hips. “And I happen to know that if you go far enough down that hallway, there’s a room filled with the most beautiful jars of honey you’ve ever seen.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. “Honey?”

Hermes nodded enthusiastically. “The best in all of Ithaca. I might have…acquired a taste for it.” His grin was wicked, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Want to see?”

Apollo snorted. “Is this some sort of trick? You’re leading me into a trap, aren’t you?”

Hermes gasped, wings flaring dramatically. “Me? Trap you? Perish the thought!” He gestured grandly to the doorway. “After you, dear brother.”

Apollo chuckled, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re up to something,” he mused, stepping forward anyway.

Hermes grinned. “Always.”

Apollo stepped through the doorway, and Hermes followed close behind, his wings brushing the edges of the stone as he slipped through. The corridor was dimly lit, the stone walls cool and damp. Apollo glanced back, just in time to see Hermes locking his fingers behind his head, wings fluttering innocently. “Well?” Hermes asked, nodding down the hall. “Go on. It’s just around the corner.”

Apollo gave him one last look before striding forward, his footsteps echoing off the stone. Hermes followed, his grin never fading. They walked in silence for a moment, the corridor growing darker, the walls closer. Finally, they rounded a sharp corner and entered a low room stacked high with clay jars, their tops sealed with thick wax.

Apollo raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “I’ll admit,” he began, stepping further inside, “I didn’t expect you to actually be telling the truth.” He ran his fingers over one of the jars, inspecting it. “These are really just here? Unattended?”

Hermes shrugged, wings fluttering. “Welcome to Ithaca,” he quipped. “Not everyone locks their doors. Or their jars.”

Apollo chuckled, brushing off the dust from his hands. “So what’s the plan? Steal a few jars and blame it on the servants?”

Hermes feigned shock, wings flaring out. “Me? Steal? I’m reformed!” He stepped forward, weaving around the stacks of jars. “I just wanted to share a little taste with you. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t?”

Apollo snorted. “A boring one.” He reached out and cracked the wax seal on one of the jars, lifting the lid. A sweet, rich aroma spilled out, filling the room. “That smells incredible.”

“Told you,” Hermes grinned, sidling up beside him. “Best in Ithaca.”

Apollo dipped his finger in, bringing it to his lips. He hummed in appreciation. “Okay, you weren’t lying. This is–”

The door slammed shut.

Apollo’s head snapped up, eyes wide. Hermes was leaning casually against the stone wall, arms crossed and wings fluttering with excitement. “Whoops,” Hermes said, his grin impossibly wide. “Would you look at that?”

Apollo blinked, then looked back at the heavy wooden door. He tried the handle. It didn’t budge. He pressed his shoulder against it. Still nothing. He turned back to Hermes, expression flat. “You locked me in a pantry?”

Hermes beamed. “Not just any pantry. The honey pantry.” He wiggled his fingers. “Have fun with that.”

Apollo’s jaw dropped. “You’re just going to leave me here?”

Hermes shrugged, pushing off the wall and stretching his wings. “I figure you can talk your way out. Or maybe just charm the bees.”

“Hermes!” Apollo shouted, laughter edging his voice. “You better let me out of here right now!”

Hermes threw his head back, cackling. “Sorry! I’ve got a date with Tiresias. Maybe I’ll check back in an hour? Two?”

Apollo’s eyes narrowed, but his grin was fighting its way to the surface. “Oh, you are going to regret this,” he warned, banging on the door once for good measure.

Hermes grinned wickedly, wings flaring. “Catch me if you can, Polly!”

He darted back up the corridor, laughter trailing behind him. Hermes' wings fluttered with the pure joy of it, the rush of adrenaline making his heart pound. He didn’t stop running until he reached the open courtyard, wings flaring and breath heaving. “Well,” he murmured to himself, leaning against the stone wall, “that went better than I thought.”

A voice whispered behind him. “Did it?”

Hermes whirled, wings flaring out, only to find Apollo leaning casually against the stone archway, hands tucked behind his back. His grin was wide and wicked, golden curls gleaming in the sunlight. “I told you, Hermes.” He stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “I always keep my promises.”

Hermes took one step back. “You–you can’t just–how did you–?”

Apollo shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He stepped closer. “Now,” he whispered, his voice velvet-smooth, “run.”

Hermes didn’t need to be told twice. His wings flared, and he sprinted off without a second thought, his laughter echoing off the stone walls as he darted through the courtyard. Apollo followed close behind, his footsteps light and unhurried, like a hunter enjoying the chase.

“You think you’re fast, little brother?” Apollo called, voice smooth and full of mirth. “I’ve seen you run! You barely know how to keep those wings balanced!”

Hermes cackled, ducking under a low-hanging branch and vaulting over a small stone ledge. “You’re just mad you got locked in the pantry!” he shouted back, wings flapping wildly as he bolted through the garden.

Apollo only laughed, the sound rich and rolling. “I have to admit, that was clever. But I’m still faster.”

Hermes skidded to a stop by the fountain, wings flaring to catch his balance. He turned just in time to see Apollo stalking towards him, golden curls catching the sunlight, eyes bright with mischief. “You’re losing your edge, Polly!” Hermes taunted, taking a step back, heels nearly brushing the water’s edge.

Apollo grinned wickedly. “I haven’t even started.” He lunged forward, and Hermes yelped, wings flaring out as he took off running again, this time around the fountain and back towards the palace doors.

Hermes was already halfway up the stairs, wings fluttering with adrenaline as he launched himself around the corner. “Come on, Polly! Are you getting slow in your old age?”

“Oh, you are so asking for it!” Apollo called back, taking the steps two at a time.

Hermes dashed down the hallway, narrowly avoiding a bust of Odysseus that nearly toppled from its pedestal as he squeezed by. His wings flared for balance, and he caught his breath just long enough to glance behind him. Apollo was closing the gap, his grin sharper than ever.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Hermes murmured, wings flicking nervously. He bolted again, sliding around the corner and sprinting toward the open courtyard.

Tiresias and Telemachus were there, seated under the olive tree, Tiresias listening patiently to Telemachus recount another sparring match. Hermes burst into view, wings flaring and eyes wild. “Starlight! Help!” he yelped, ducking behind Tiresias, practically plastering himself to their back.

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as Hermes clung to him. “Let me guess,” he murmured with the faintest hint of amusement. “You did something you weren’t supposed to.”

Hermes peeked around Tiresias’s shoulder, wings still flapping anxiously. “I wouldn’t say ‘wasn’t supposed to!’ More like…highly encouraged by fate.”

Tiresias huffed a laugh, reaching up to pat Hermes' hand gently. “I’m not defending you,” they said lightly. “Knowing you and your antics, you’ve definitely earned whatever’s coming.”

Hermes gaped, wings fluttering indignantly. “Starlight! How could you betray me like this?”

Tiresias only smiled. “I’d argue you betrayed yourself.” They tilted their head toward the path Hermes had come from. “I can hear him coming.”

Hermes' eyes went wide, and without another word, he bolted off, wings flaring behind him. “I’ll remember this!” he shouted back at Tiresias, whose laugh followed him down the path.

It was only seconds later that Apollo appeared, golden curls slightly tousled, and eyes blazing with determination. He skidded to a halt, hands braced on his knees as he caught his breath. “Did you see him?” he asked, voice pitched with exasperated delight.

Tiresias smiled, turning slightly toward the sound of Apollo’s voice. “I don’t see anything, Lord Apollo.”

Apollo huffed. “Fine. Has he been here?” Tiresias raised an eyebrow.

“He might have,” they said slyly. “But I don’t know if I should tell you.”

Apollo straightened, eyebrows raised. “Starlight,” he purred. “I know you’re fond of him, but surely you can’t condone whatever chaos he just unleashed.”

Tiresias chuckled, tapping their staff lightly on the ground. “Oh, I condone it. I just won’t protect him from it.”

Apollo grinned, the sunlight catching on his hair. “Fair enough.” He turned to Telemachus, who was watching the exchange with wide, eager eyes. “What about you, Little Wolf? You wouldn’t happen to know where my dear brother went, would you?”

Telemachus beamed, clearly delighted to be involved. He pointed toward the path Hermes had taken. “That way!” he declared proudly.

Apollo laughed, reaching out to ruffle Telemachus’s hair. “Good man,” he praised. “I owe you one.” He took off down the path, his voice carrying as he called out. “Oh, Hermes! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Tiresias leaned back, a soft chuckle escaping their lips. “He was always going to be found, you know.”

Telemachus nodded with a grin. “But it’s fun watching him try.”

Tiresias chuckled again, shaking their head. “That it is, Little Wolf. That it is.”

The courtyard had just settled back into its usual calm when the main doors swung open with a flourish, and Odysseus and Penelope stepped out, their expressions caught somewhere between concern and curiosity. Penelope held her skirts delicately, her eyes scanning the courtyard, while Odysseus stood tall, his gaze sharp and searching.

“What in the world is going on out here?” Penelope asked, brushing a stray hair back into place. “It sounded like a whole war just broke out.”

Telemachus beamed up at his parents, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s just Apollo and Hermes!” he announced proudly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “They’re–”

“Causing chaos,” Tiresias finished for him, his voice dry but undeniably amused. He was still sitting beneath the olive tree, the morning sun casting gentle dappled light across their face. “Hermes came through here like a gust of wind, babbling about not getting caught, and Apollo followed close behind, threatening all kinds of brotherly vengeance.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. “Did he now?”

Telemachus nodded eagerly. “Hermes was hiding behind Tiresias, but they wouldn’t help him.” He laughed brightly. “And then Apollo showed up and–and I told him which way Hermes went.” He looked incredibly proud of himself.

“Some things never change,” Tiresias mused, leaning back against the trunk of the olive tree, a smile touching their lips. “Though, I must say, it’s refreshing to hear Hermes laughing like that. Really laughing.”

Penelope’s expression softened, her hand still gently carding through her son’s hair. “It is, isn’t it?” she agreed, voice tender. “I’ve heard more joy from him in these past few days than I would have imagined.”

Odysseus crossed his arms, glancing back down the path with a shake of his head. “Brothers,” he said, the word filled with warmth and amusement. “Whether gods or men, that bond never changes.” He turned to Penelope, his smile wide. “Should we be worried for Ithaca’s structural integrity?”

Penelope laughed, light and airy. “I think Ithaca can handle a little divine chaos,” she teased, bumping her husband’s shoulder. “Besides, it’s not every day we have two gods turning our gardens into a playground.”

Tiresias chuckled from their place beneath the olive tree. “It’s not a bad thing, is it?” He tilted his head back, feeling the sunlight dance across their skin. “To hear laughter, I mean.”

“No,” Penelope agreed, voice softening with something tender and almost fragile. “Not a bad thing at all.”

Tiresias sighed. “They need it. Hermes’ punishment has been hard for both. Apollo lost his brother and then tore himself up with guilt. I’m forever grateful that Lord Hades has placed both under his protection. Hermes needs his brother more than he’ll ever admit, as does Apollo. Lord Hades allows them to be together. This,” He motioned towards the distant shrieks of laughter. “They’re making up for lost time. Too long has Olympus demanded coldness from them.” They murmured.

Odysseus nodded. “I must admit, when Hermes showed up here the first time, I wondered if I’d ever see the trickster god who helped me on my journey. He seemed so broken and empty. I’m glad he can still laugh this way.” Penelope smiled, nodding in agreement.

“He’s healing. It will take a while, especially if he keeps intervening.” Tiresias said, motioning at the sky. No one needed them to specify that they meant Zeus. “Every time I think Hermes has made progress, he shows up and sets us back. But Hermes is resilient. Maybe too much to an extent, but he doesn’t stay down long.” As if to emphasize his point, a faint thud filled by a “Try again, Sunny!” reached them.

The four listened to the joyful laughter filling the air.

“Do you think he’ll catch him?” Odysseus asked, a grin spreading across his face.

Tiresias smiled knowingly. “Oh, I think he already has.”

And as if on cue, a distant shout of surprise echoed back from the far side of the garden, followed by a peal of laughter that could only belong to Hermes. Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “Should we…?” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the chaos.

Odysseus shook his head, settling more comfortably against the stone wall. “Nah,” he said, voice rich with affection. “Let them be brothers.”

Penelope smiled, her hand resting on his arm. “Yes,” she agreed. “Let them be brothers.”

Tiresias nodded, leaning back against the tree with a smile. “For as long as they can,” they whispered, more to themselves than anyone else.

The shouts and laughter grew louder as Hermes dashed through the olive trees, wings flaring wildly as he navigated the winding paths. He could hear Apollo’s footsteps behind him, steady and unyielding, like the march of sunlight over the horizon. Hermes glanced back, a wild grin splitting his face. “You’re slowing down, Polly!” he taunted, his voice ringing through the courtyard.

“Oh, I’m just pacing myself,” Apollo called back, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered. “Wouldn’t want you to think you were actually faster than me.” He rounded the corner with all the elegance of the sun god he was, his curls bouncing with each step.

Hermes just cackled, ducking under a low-hanging olive branch and skidding around the edge of the fountain. “Pacing yourself right into last place!” he shouted back, wings flaring dramatically as he took off down the path leading to the gardens.

But as Hermes sprinted, he began to notice something unsettling. Apollo’s footsteps were growing quieter, not louder. He turned his head, eyes scanning the path behind him, and saw…nothing. The trail was empty, only dust motes swirling lazily in the sunlight. “Polly?” Hermes called, wings flickering nervously. “Don’t be a sore loser!”

Silence.

Hermes slowed his pace, wings flaring out cautiously as he tiptoed through the garden path. “Alright, come on now, I know you’re here. You’re terrible at hiding.” He spun around, expecting to see Apollo sneaking up behind him. But there was only the whisper of olive leaves and the distant call of birds.

Hermes huffed, wings bristling. “Fine. I’ll just declare myself the winner! You hear that? I win!” He threw his arms up in mock celebration. “Hermes: One. Polly: Zero!”

There was a gust of wind, a flicker of golden light, and before Hermes could even blink, Apollo materialized right in front of him, arms crossed and eyes alight with mischief. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that just yet, little brother.”

Hermes barely had time to shriek before Apollo lunged forward, catching him around the waist and hoisting him clean off the ground. Hermes squirmed and kicked, wings flapping wildly as he tried to break free. “Wait! Apollo! We can talk about this!”

Apollo only laughed, adjusting his grip and tossing Hermes over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “Oh, I think we’ve talked enough. You’ve been running circles around me all morning, and I think it’s time you learned a little lesson.”

Hermes pounded his fists playfully against Apollo’s back. “No, Polly, come on! You wouldn’t do that to your favorite brother!” He tried to wiggle out of Apollo’s hold, but the sun god’s grip was ironclad.

“Hmm,” Apollo mused, carrying him further into the courtyard. “I don’t remember you being this talkative when you locked me in that pantry.” He hoisted Hermes up a little higher, making him squeal. “Didn’t I say you wouldn’t escape the punishment for trickster gods?”

Hermes flailed dramatically. “It was all in good fun! A harmless prank!” His wings fluttered frantically, brushing against Apollo’s arm. “Polly, come on! I’ll be good!”

“Oh, I know you will,” Apollo replied, his voice soft and dripping with satisfaction. He plopped down onto the grass with Hermes still secured in his grip, positioning the messenger god right in his lap, legs pinned. “Because you’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Hermes' eyes went wide. “No…No! Polly, no! Not this again!” He started squirming with renewed vigor, but it was far too late. Apollo’s hands descended upon him, fingers skittering along his sides, right where Hermes was most ticklish.

“Ack! NO! Apollo!” Hermes shrieked, wings flaring uselessly against Apollo’s hold. His laughter spilled out in wild bursts, uncontrollable and bright. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Apollo only chuckled, fingers unrelenting as they found their way to Hermes' ribs. “Oh, you’re sorry, are you? That’s funny, I don’t believe you.” His fingers danced along Hermes' sides, prodding and teasing in the exact spots he knew would get the biggest reaction. “You think I’m going to fall for that?”

Hermes howled, wings flapping helplessly. “Polly! I swear! I swear!” His laughter was nearly breathless, the sound ringing out through the courtyard in peals of delight. “I-I won’t do it again!”

“Uh-huh,” Apollo mused, his voice practically purring with amusement. “You expect me to believe that?” His hands moved down, catching the soft fluttering wings at Hermes' ankles. He ran his fingers lightly along the sensitive feathers, and Hermes' breath hitched, his entire body tensing.

“No! Not–Not the wings!” Hermes gasped, his laughter breaking into small hiccups. “Polly, you–You monster!”

Apollo laughed, absolutely unbothered by the name-calling. “I warned you, didn’t I? What did I say? Tricksters don’t escape punishment. Now hold still.”

Hermes shrieked with laughter, trying desperately to curl up, but Apollo held him steady, fingers nimble and merciless. “I’m sorry!” Hermes managed to gasp out between laughter. “I really am! Please, Polly, I’m sorry!”

Apollo paused, his hands stilling but not letting go. He raised an eyebrow, lips curled in a grin. “You’re sorry?”

Hermes nodded frantically, wings fluttering with leftover tremors. “Yes! Yes, I’m sorry!”

Apollo hummed thoughtfully. “Hmmm...well, I guess if you’re truly sorry...” He loosened his grip slightly, watching as Hermes sagged with relief.

But then Hermes' eyes flared with mischief, and with one swift motion, he lunged forward, attempting to tackle Apollo back onto the grass. “Ha! Gotcha!” Hermes crowed triumphantly.

Apollo didn’t even flinch. He caught Hermes mid-lunge, raising an eyebrow. “I guess you weren’t really sorry,” he mused.

Hermes' eyes went wide. “Wait, wait, I was joking! I swear, I was just–NO!”

Apollo’s hands were back, fingers finding the sensitive feathers of Hermes' wings and the soft spots along his ribs, sending Hermes into another fit of shrieking laughter. “No mercy for tricksters,” Apollo declared with a grin, his voice ringing with delight. “Not in my domain.”

Hermes' protests dissolved into uncontrollable giggles, his wings fluttering with each burst of laughter. “Polly! I can’t…I can’t breathe!”

“That’s just your conscience clearing out the lies,” Apollo teased, continuing his relentless tickling. “Better let it all out!”

Hermes just laughed, wild and free, the sound echoing through the olive trees and up toward the palace walls, where Tiresias, Telemachus, Penelope, and Odysseus listened with amused smiles, the echoes of brotherhood and healing carried on the morning breeze.

Apollo finally eased off, though his hands stayed gently at Hermes' sides, steadying him as he tried to catch his breath. Hermes lay sprawled on the grass, wings fanned out haphazardly, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of his laughter. His cheeks were flushed, eyes sparkling with a joy so rare and bright that even Apollo paused to take it in.

Hermes blinked up at him, still giggling softly as he tried to speak. “Y-you…you’re relentless,” he gasped, rubbing his ribs gingerly but with no real malice.

Apollo smirked, resting his hands on his knees as he leaned back on his heels. “I did warn you, didn’t I? Or did you think I was bluffing?”

Hermes just huffed, flopping back onto the grass with a dramatic sigh. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, stretching his arms above his head. His wings fluttered slightly, brushing against the blades of grass, sending little specks of dew flying. “I forgot how annoying you can be.”

“Annoying? I prefer ‘thorough.’” Apollo leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, and looked up at the canopy of olive branches above them, sunlight filtering through the leaves in fractured beams. His smile softened, and his gaze turned just a little bit wistful. “You used to laugh like that all the time, you know.”

Hermes blinked, his own smile faltering for just a moment. He followed Apollo’s gaze, looking up at the dappled sunlight, the way it flickered through the leaves. His wings stilled, and his hands drifted up to rest over his chest. “I did, didn’t I?”

Apollo’s voice was softer, just above a whisper. “Yeah…you did.” He turned to look at Hermes, his expression gentle and unguarded. “I missed it. I missed you.”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings fluttering instinctively. But then, he smiled. A real, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and softened the tension in his shoulders. “You’ve got me now,” he murmured. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Apollo’s grin returned, slow and bright. “Good.” He reached out, ruffling Hermes' curls affectionately. “Because I’m not letting you get away again. You hear me?”

Hermes snorted, swatting at Apollo’s hand. “Not like you ever could,” he teased, his wings flaring out just a bit. “I’m faster than you, remember?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” His grin turned wicked. “Want me to prove it?”

Hermes' eyes widened, and he scrambled back, wings flaring defensively. “No! No, I’m good! I think you’ve proven enough for one day.” He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Mercy, Pollo.”

Apollo laughed, the sound ringing out over the courtyard. “Fine, fine. I suppose I can be merciful.” He held out a hand, and Hermes took it, letting Apollo pull him to his feet.

The two stood there for a moment, brushing grass and dirt off their clothes, wings flickering lightly with the last remnants of adrenaline. “Think we caused enough chaos for one morning?” Apollo asked, his tone light but his eyes warm.

Hermes tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm…not sure. I think we could squeeze in a little more.” He glanced around, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe we ‘accidentally’ swap the markers on the supply crates. Or rearrange the garden statues just enough to confuse Odysseus.”

Apollo chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.” Hermes grinned, his wings flaring out dramatically. “But, since we’re already up, how about breakfast first? I did drag you out here with nothing but a roll of bread.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “That’s true. You did wake me up at some unholy hour.”

“Unholy? You are the god of light!” Hermes cackled, throwing his arm around Apollo’s shoulders and tugging him toward the path back to the main courtyard. “Come on, I’m sure Lady Penelope has something good waiting for us.”

The two ambled back toward the main courtyard, the morning sun shining brightly over the palace grounds. The olive trees rustled gently in the breeze, and Hermes' wings fluttered with every step, brushing lightly against Apollo’s arm.

As they rounded the corner, the familiar sight of Penelope’s garden came into view, the lush greenery swaying in the morning light. To their surprise, Tiresias, Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus were all sitting around the stone table, deep in conversation. The laughter and lightness in the air seemed to ripple outward, filling the courtyard with something soft and gentle.

Telemachus perked up the moment he spotted them, practically bouncing in his seat. “Apollo! Hermes! Did you catch him?” he called out, eyes sparkling with delight.

Apollo laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I caught him alright. And I think I got my revenge, too.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow, her smile warm. “I take it the chase was successful?”

Hermes groaned dramatically, wings fluttering in mock exhaustion. “I am a victim of tyranny,” he declared, flopping into the nearest chair and his wings flaring just as dramatically. “This is abuse of power, I tell you.”

Tiresias chuckled, tapping their staff lightly on the ground. “Somehow, I think you brought this upon yourself.”

Hermes gasped, clutching his heart theatrically. “Starlight?”

Tiresias only smiled, their expression soft. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before pranking a god of prophecy.”

Hermes snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Never.” His wings fluttered defiantly, sending small puffs of dust into the air.

Odysseus chuckled, reaching for his cup. “Well, I’m just glad you two didn’t knock the walls down. I’m not sure Ithaca would recover.”

“Yet,” Penelope added with a grin. “I’m sure there’s still time in the day.”

Apollo glanced at Hermes, his grin widening. “You hear that? Sounds like a challenge to me.”

Hermes straightened up, his wings flaring out. “I do believe you’re right, Polly.” He looked back at the table, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “So, who’s ready for breakfast?”

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “I think I’ve got just the thing. But promise me that you two won’t bring the ceiling down on our heads.”

Hermes crossed his heart with an impish grin. “I promise nothing.”

Notes:

ACK!!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!

I really hope you do too, cause we're gonna be seeing a lot more of them…and maybe a surprise guest soon :)

Now, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 43

Summary:

Okay, brace yourselves for tooth rotting fluff with a side of flustered boys. (and a hint of sadness)

Welcome to Ithaca.

The morning sun filtered gently through the windows of the dining hall, casting dappled patterns on the stone floor. The table was laid out with fresh bread, slices of cheese, figs, and grapes, the spread simple yet welcoming. Penelope moved gracefully between the chairs, setting out cups of water and arranging the platters, her smile warm and steady.

Hermes and Apollo arrived first, their cheeks still flushed with the remnants of laughter. Apollo’s curls were slightly tousled, and Hermes' wings fluttered gently, brushing his ankles with each step. They slid into their seats, nodding their thanks to Penelope as she poured them both fresh water.

Tiresias arrived shortly after, guided gently by Telemachus, who was eagerly chatting about his plans for training that morning. “And I’m going to finally master that sword technique! Apollo, you have to come watch!”

Apollo grinned, reaching over to ruffle Telemachus’s hair. “Wouldn’t miss it, Little Wolf. I expect you to put the rest of them to shame.”

Telemachus straightened proudly, his grin wide. “I will! You’ll see!”

As breakfast continued, the conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the soft hum of morning. Hermes kept sneaking glances at Tiresias, who was listening intently to Penelope talk about the markets in Ithaca, their head tilted slightly to catch every word. Tiresias’s smile was soft, their hands folded neatly in their lap, and every so often, Hermes' wings would flutter in a tiny, unconscious motion, like his heart couldn’t quite contain the warmth.

Hermes leaned over, nudging Tiresias gently. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice soft but threaded with excitement. “Want to go out today? Just you and me.”

Tiresias turned slightly, their expression brightening. “Go out?”

Hermes nodded, his wings giving an eager flicker. “Ithaca’s got more than just this palace, you know. I want to show you around. We can go to the market, maybe the coast. Just explore a little.” His grin softened, just a touch. “If you want to.”

Tiresias’s smile spread slowly, warm and genuine. “I’d like that very much, sweet bird.”

Hermes' wings flared out slightly, brushing against the back of his chair before he tucked them back with a grin. “Great! I’ll make sure it’s the best day you’ve ever had.”

Penelope caught their conversation and smiled gently. “The market will be bustling today. You two should stop by the bread stalls. They’ve just gotten the wheat harvest in.”

Hermes' eyes practically sparkled. “You hear that? Fresh bread.” He turned to Tiresias, his expression practically vibrating with excitement. “I’m buying you the biggest loaf they have.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, his fingers curling over Hermes'. “I won’t argue with that.”

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, his gaze warm and thoughtful. “You two enjoy yourselves. Ithaca’s been in good spirits lately; plenty of song and food in the markets. You’ll find no shortage of places to explore.”

Apollo nudged Hermes playfully. “Try not to cause too much trouble, alright? I know it’s hard for you.”

Hermes scoffed, brushing off the remark with a flick of his wing, effectively smacking his brother in the face. “I am a beacon of good behavior, Polly. A shining example of decency and grace.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, swatting at the wing and biting back a grin. “If that were true, I’m the goddess of wisdom.”

Hermes just stuck his tongue out and turned back to Tiresias. “Finish up, Starlight. I want to get there before the crowds.”

Tiresias laughed, taking another sip of water. “Alright, alright. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Hermes bounced slightly in his seat, his wings fluttering with impatience. “Good! Then let’s get going.” He stood, brushing the crumbs off his tunic and offering a hand to Tiresias. 

Tiresias took his hand, rising gracefully. They turned toward Penelope and Odysseus. “Thank you for breakfast. It was lovely.”

Penelope smiled warmly. “Enjoy your time, dears. The market is beautiful this time of year.”

Odysseus raised his cup in a mock toast. “Try not to steal anything too obvious, eh?”

Hermes gasped dramatically. “I am shocked and appalled by the implication.” He turned to Tiresias with a grin. “Come on, before my reputation gets any worse.”

With a gentle hand at Tiresias’s back, Hermes led them out into the courtyard, sunlight spilling over the stone paths, illuminating the olive trees and the creeping vines that clung to the palace walls. The air was crisp and clean, the faintest scent of salt carried in from the distant coast.

Hermes walked beside Tiresias, his hand gently wrapped around theirs. He took it slow, mindful of each step, murmuring soft directions and descriptions as they walked. “Alright, so, to our right are the olive groves. You can probably smell them from here. And up ahead is the path that leads down to the market. You’ll hear it soon. It’s always so lively.” His voice was bright, almost musical, wings fluttering in tandem with his excitement.

Tiresias smiled softly. “You sound like you love it here.”

Hermes hesitated for just a heartbeat before nodding. “I do,” he admitted quietly. “It’s different from Olympus. The people here, they’re,” he paused, searching for the right words. “They’re just living. They don’t expect anything from me. I just get to exist.”

Tiresias squeezed his hand gently. “That sounds wonderful, sweet bird.”

Hermes' smile brightened, his wings fluttering. “It is. And now, I get to show you all of it.”

Ahead of them, the path opened up, revealing the stone archway that led into the market. Already, the faint hum of voices and the clatter of carts could be heard, the distant aroma of fresh bread and roasting meats drifting on the breeze.

Hermes stopped, turning to Tiresias. “Ready?”

Tiresias tilted their head, a smile spreading slowly across their face. “Lead the way.”

Hermes took their hand a bit tighter, his wings fluttering excitedly. “Then let’s go see Ithaca.”

The market stretched out before them like a living tapestry, bustling with life and color. Stalls lined the cobbled streets, draped in woven cloths of deep reds, blues, and golds. Vendors called out their wares, voices blending into a melodic hum that drifted through the air alongside the scents of fresh bread, spiced meat, and wild herbs.

Hermes guided Tiresias with practiced ease, their hands still linked as they weaved through the crowd. He was careful, always mindful of any obstacles, occasionally murmuring soft directions. “Step up here…okay, there’s a stone in the path…watch your step, Starlight.”

Tiresias followed effortlessly, a gentle smile on their lips. “I think you’ve walked these streets more times than you’ve let on,” they mused, their voice soft and full of warmth.

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Ithaca was good to me. I know every inch of this place by heart.” He squeezed their hand. “And today, you get the grand tour.”

Tiresias chuckled. “A privilege, I’m sure.”

They came to a stop near the bread stall Penelope had mentioned, the scent of freshly baked loaves hanging heavy in the air. Hermes leaned over the stall, greeting the vendor with a bright smile and a handful of coins. He purchased two large, still-warm loaves and handed one to Tiresias. “Here, best in Ithaca. I promise.”

Tiresias held the bread carefully, inhaling deeply. “It smells divine,” they murmured, fingers brushing over the crust. He broke off a piece, nibbling delicately before their smile grew. “Oh, you weren’t exaggerating.”

Hermes puffed out his chest, wings giving a pleased flutter. “I’m never wrong when it comes to bread.” He took a hearty bite of his own, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction. “Now, where to next? The fabric stalls? They have colors that would make Aphrodite jealous. Or the spice market! You’ve never smelled anything like it. Or maybe–”

He paused, glancing around as if the possibilities were endless. “There’s a place that sells herbs and flowers from the mountain’s edge,” he continued, his eyes bright. “Or we could go see the weavers. They’re always working on something new.”

Tiresias tilted their head, a smile playing at their lips as Hermes rattled off each option, his wings flapping with each new idea. He gestured grandly, voice animated with joy. “Ithaca has everything. I’m telling you, if you want to find it, you’ll find it here.”

Tiresias chuckled, turning their face toward the sound of Hermes' voice. “Anything catch your interest?” Hermes asked, still grinning broadly. His wings gave a little flutter, eager and bright, as if anticipating Tiresias’s answer.

Tiresias’s smile softened, their hand slipping into Hermes'. “Just this,” they murmured, voice tender and sure.

Hermes stilled, his wings pausing mid-flap. “What...what do you mean?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. His eyes searched Tiresias’s face, something raw and vulnerable flickering behind his gaze.

Tiresias squeezed his hand, their thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You,” they whispered back. “Just this. Walking through the markets with you, listening to you talk about Ithaca like it’s the most beautiful place in the world. Being here with you…that’s what catches my interest.”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a small, unconscious flutter. His smile faltered just slightly before it grew wide, brilliant, and almost bashful. “You sappy prophet,” he murmured, his voice cracking just a bit. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hand still gentle and warm around his. “I have my moments,” they teased softly.

Hermes shook his head, the light in his eyes sparkling. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to make me blush.”

“Oh, I’m definitely trying,” Tiresias replied, his grin practically audible. Hermes laughed, wings flaring out just slightly with the motion.

“Well, you’re succeeding,” Hermes admitted, cheeks flushed pink. He squeezed their hand. “Come on. Let’s keep going. I’ve got so much to show you.”

They moved forward again, weaving through the market stalls, the sunlight catching on the beads and bright fabrics around them. Hermes kept his hand firmly in Tiresias’s, never once letting go, his wings fluttering every so often with tiny bursts of joy. He pointed out every stall with the enthusiasm of a child, never missing an opportunity to describe each one in vivid detail.

“And over there is the spice vendor I told you about,” Hermes said, practically pulling Tiresias along. 

Hermes was halfway through a story about how he managed to try every spice the vendor sold, when something off to the side caught his eye. Tucked beneath the branches of a flowering olive tree, just beyond the edge of the market square sat a low stone monument, dappled in the shade, its surface etched with names. Hundreds of them. Beneath the rows of lettering, a simple inscription:

“For the six hundred. May their memory live where they could not.”

Hermes froze.

At its base lay small offerings, carefully arranged. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses rested beside a smooth river stone, polished to a shine. A broad, worn sword leaned against the stone, its hilt wrapped in faded cloth. Sprigs of rosemary. A half-carved wooden figurine. A folded note, tucked beneath a flat rock so the wind wouldn’t steal it.

He knew what they were. He knew who they were for. Faces and voices left to memory, but still honored along the paths of Ithaca. Six hundred men who had went to war, survived, and then been punished by the gods. All of them, gone.

Hermes’ wings stilled, the moment pressing down on him like the weight of the sea. He hadn’t known Odysseus had done this. That he’d kept their memory here. That he’d made space for grief in the heart of Ithaca.

“Hermes?” Tiresias’s voice was soft beside him, sensing the shift in his energy.

Hermes swallowed. “There’s a memorial,” he said quietly, his voice steadier than he felt. “For the ones who didn’t come home.” Tiresias’s fingers found his, threading gently through. They didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Hermes stood for a moment longer, letting the breeze ruffle his wings. Then he gave Tiresias’s hand a squeeze and pulled in a breath. “Come on,” he said softly. “I want to show you the spices. They’re like fire and sunlight and everything warm.”

And he led them away, but not before casting one last glance back toward the sword, the glasses, and the names carved in stone.

Hermes was describing the spice vendor’s selection when he noticed the subtle tension in Tiresias’s grip. Their hand, which had been relaxed and loose in his own, had tightened just slightly. Their breathing had grown a little more measured, the kind of deep, deliberate breaths one takes to stay calm. Hermes' wings fluttered gently, his eyes scanning their face.

“Tiresias?” he asked, his voice gentle and soft. “You alright?”

Tiresias offered him a small, practiced smile. “I’m fine,” they murmured. But Hermes saw the way their other hand clutched the staff just a bit tighter, how their shoulders were drawn just a little too close to their ears. He watched as another group of market-goers passed by, voices raised in cheerful bartering, laughter spilling into the air. The crowd was thickening, the press of bodies growing tighter as the morning stretched on into the afternoon.

Hermes gently squeezed their hand. “Come with me,” he whispered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Tiresias hesitated but let Hermes guide them away from the bustling market stalls, their pace unhurried but purposeful.

Hermes led them down a winding path that threaded through olive trees and wildflowers, away from the crowded market and out toward the cliffs that overlooked the endless stretch of ocean. The air grew quieter the farther they walked, the bustle of the marketplace fading into the background until it was nothing but a distant hum. The wind picked up, carrying with it the briny tang of salt and the whisper of waves crashing against the rocks below.

Tiresias’s shoulders relaxed by degrees, the tension ebbing from their form with each step. Hermes didn’t speak, didn’t push, just led them forward, his hand steady and warm in theirs. Finally, the path opened up, revealing the cliffs that jutted out over the endless blue. Hermes guided them to the edge, his voice soft and soothing. “We’re here,” he murmured. “You can sit if you’d like. There’s plenty of room, and the stone’s warm.”

Tiresias smiled, a genuine one this time, and lowered themselves carefully to the smooth stone ground. Hermes settled beside them, ankle wings fluttering lightly before folding neatly against his calves. For a long moment, neither spoke. Tiresias tilted their head toward the sound of the waves, their expression peaceful. “I can hear the tide,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful.”

Hermes watched them with a fondness that softened his eyes. “It is,” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted slightly, stretching his wings out so that they caught the sunlight, shimmering faintly. “It’s one of my favorite places in Ithaca,” he confessed. “Whenever things got too loud, I came here or I’d go weave with Penelope.”

Tiresias’s lips curled into a gentle smile. “Thank you,” they murmured. “For bringing me here.”

Hermes' wings fluttered softly. “Of course, Starlight. Always.”

For a while, they said nothing. The silence wasn’t heavy; it was gentle. Hermes watched the waves, his wings giving the occasional flutter as the breeze caught them.

Finally, Hermes broke the silence, his voice soft and unguarded. “You know, I used to come to cliffs just like these when I was younger,” he began, his gaze still trained on the endless expanse of blue. “Back before I got pulled into all the Olympus business.”

Tiresias tilted his head toward him, curiosity evident in his expression. “You did?”

Hermes nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah. They weren’t as big as these, more like rocky ledges than cliffs. I’d go there to be alone. To think. Or not think, really.” His eyes softened, the sunlight catching flecks of gold in his irises. “My mother, Maia, had this little cave hidden away from the world. Most people didn’t even know it existed. But just past the entrance, if you climbed up the right path, you’d find these cliffs. They jutted out over the hillside, and you could see everything from up there. The whole world, it felt like.”

Tiresias’s lips curved into a smile. “It sounds beautiful.”

Hermes nodded, his wings giving a gentle flutter. “It was. I used to climb up there whenever I got tired of, well, of being me.” He laughed softly, almost self-consciously. “Before anyone knew I existed. Before Olympus knew I existed. It was just me and the wind and the world below.” He paused, his eyes distant. “I used to imagine I could just take off. Like the birds. I’d stand at the edge and feel the wind rushing past, and I’d close my eyes and pretend that if I just flapped hard enough, I’d take off.”

Tiresias’s head tilted slightly, their voice a soft murmur. “Did you?”

Hermes chuckled, shaking his head. “No. I tried once, actually. Got a running start and everything. Leapt right off the edge.” His wings fluttered slightly, a phantom memory of the movement. “I landed flat on my face about three feet down.” He laughed, the sound warm and bright. “Maia scolded me for hours. Said I’d break my neck if I kept trying. I told her, ‘I’m a god. I don’t break that easily.’ She didn’t find it very funny.”

Tiresias chuckled alongside him, the sound light and gentle. “I’m surprised you didn’t try again.”

“Oh, I did,” Hermes admitted, wings flaring slightly. “Over and over. I figured one of these days, it would work. It never did.” He leaned back, bracing his hands on the stone behind him. “That was before I knew how to control my wings, of course. When I finally started learning, I thought,” He hesitated, his gaze drifting back to the ocean. “I thought I’d finally get to do it. Really fly. Really take off.”

Tiresias’s voice was soft, just above a whisper. “Did you?”

Hermes was silent for a moment, his wings fluttering gently. “For a while,” he murmured, his eyes distant. “For a little while.”

The silence stretched, the waves crashing rhythmically against the rocks below. Tiresias reached out, their hand finding his. Their fingers curled gently around his own, grounding him. “You still will,” they said softly, their voice full of certainty. “I know you will.”

Hermes looked at them, surprise flickering across his face. “How can you be so sure?”

Tiresias smiled, his grip tightening just slightly. “Because I know you,” he murmured. “You don’t give up that easily. You never have.”

Hermes' eyes softened, and for a moment, he simply stared at them, the wind catching in his curls, his wings fluttering just slightly in the breeze. “You really believe that?”

Tiresias nodded, their voice firm and unwavering. “I do.”

Hermes swallowed, his throat tightening just a bit. “No one’s ever said that to me before,” he whispered. “Not like that.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand still holding his. “Then it’s about time someone did.”

Hermes squeezed their hand back, his wings fluttering with just a little more strength. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice raw and honest.

The cliffs were still, the breeze gentle as it swept over the waves far below. Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing against the rock as he settled more comfortably beside Tiresias. The prophet’s hand was still curled around his, their thumb tracing gentle circles along Hermes' knuckles.

“Anything catch your interest?” Hermes repeated his question from earlier, voice soft and teasing.

Tiresias turned his head slightly, the sunlight catching on the edges of his pale eyes. “You,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes' breath caught, wings fluttering in a delicate, almost shy sort of way. “Oh,” he replied, voice softer now. He glanced down at their joined hands, the warmth of Tiresias’s skin seeping into his own. “I didn’t expect that answer.”

Tiresias smiled, a soft, almost secretive thing. “I think you did.”

Hermes laughed, the sound light and free, echoing over the cliffs. “Maybe I did.”

They sat like that for a while, the silence stretching between them, comfortable and easy. Hermes found his gaze wandering over Tiresias’s features, the curve of their jaw, the line of their nose, the gentle way their hair moved in the breeze. It was like seeing him for the first time, even though Hermes had committed every detail to memory ages ago.

Tiresias turned their head slightly, unseeing eyes focused just past Hermes' shoulder. “You’re staring,” he said, voice soft and unbothered.

Hermes laughed again, this time a bit more sheepish. “Am I?”

“You are.”

“Should I stop?”

Tiresias tilted their head thoughtfully. “No.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing against the rock again, and he leaned in just slightly, his breath catching. “Starlight,” he whispered, the name slipping from his lips like it belonged there. “I…I want to kiss you.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, soft and warm. “Then do it,” they whispered back, their voice steady and sure.

Hermes didn’t need further encouragement. He closed the distance slowly, giving Tiresias all the time in the world to pull away, but he didn’t. Their breath mingled for just a heartbeat before Hermes pressed his lips to his, gentle and unhurried.

The world fell away. The roar of the waves below softened to a distant hum, the breeze faded into a gentle whisper. It was just them, suspended in time, lips pressed together in a tender, delicate dance. Tiresias’s hand found its way to the back of Hermes' neck, fingers threading through his curls, holding him there, holding him close.

Hermes sighed into the kiss, his wings fluttering softly against his ankles, a shiver running through him. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little, testing the waters, and Tiresias responded with a soft, almost breathless hum that sent warmth flooding through Hermes' veins.

They broke apart slowly, Hermes' eyes fluttering open to find Tiresias still leaning toward him, his expression soft and unguarded. “That…” Hermes began, his voice a bit breathless. “That was…”

“Long overdue,” Tiresias finished for him, their smile widening just a touch. 

Hermes laughed, the sound bubbling out of him before he could stop it. He leaned forward, pressing another quick, fleeting kiss to Tiresias’s lips. “I’m really glad I dragged you out here.”

“Me too,” Tiresias whispered, their hand still tangled in Hermes' hair, thumb brushing gentle patterns against his scalp.

Hermes grinned and pulled the prophet closer. “Come here, Starlight. Kiss me.” He murmured. Tiresias wasted no time, leaning over the god, letting Hermes guide him to his lips. Their hands wandered, tracing up the side of the messenger’s face, gently brushing through the soft wings. They twitched and shivered under his gentle touch.

Hermes gasped. “Gods,” he whispered. Tiresias did it again. Tracing their fingers along the smooth feathers to the base of the wing. He gently dragged a nail across the skin where the wing joined the messenger’s head, scratching softly, gently.

Hermes’ breath stuttered. Tiresias smiled into the kiss.

“Sweet bird,” they whispered.

Hermes, done with the teasing, threaded his hands into Tiresias’s long, silky hair, gently tugging. Tiresias’s head fell back, and Hermes wasted no time. Soft, biting kisses were placed along the prophet’s neck, lips brushing against the sensitive skin with a deliberateness that made Tiresias shiver.

A breathy gasp escaped their lips, and Hermes grinned, wings fluttering just slightly at the sound. “Oh?” he murmured against Tiresias’s throat, voice low and teasing. “Didn’t know you were so sensitive here, Starlight.” His fingers tangled more deeply into Tiresias’s hair, tugging just enough to tilt their head back further, exposing more of that untouched skin.

Tiresias’s breath hitched, and their hands fumbled slightly, fingers curling into Hermes' tunic. “Hermes…” they whispered, voice soft and unsteady, but not protesting. Not even a little.

Encouraged, Hermes pressed his lips just below the prophet’s jaw, where he could feel the gentle thrum of their pulse. He kissed the spot, once, twice, before letting his teeth graze just enough to earn another gasp. The sound shot straight through him, warm and electric. “You know you sound beautiful, right?” he whispered, his breath ghosting over the spot he’d just kissed. “I could listen to you forever.”

Tiresias swallowed hard, his hands tightening in Hermes' tunic, breath coming in unsteady waves. “I…you–” They broke off, another soft sound spilling from their lips as Hermes dragged his mouth lower, teeth scraping gently along the line of their throat.

“Oh, don’t stop,” Hermes coaxed, voice a warm whisper against his skin. He placed another lingering kiss just above the collarbone, lips soft and gentle before he sucked lightly, drawing a soft moan from Tiresias. Hermes pulled back just enough to grin up at them, eyes sparkling with mischief. “That’s it,” he murmured. “There’s my starlight.”

Tiresias flushed, head tilting further to the side as Hermes continued his exploration, lips mapping out every inch of exposed skin. He found a particularly sensitive spot just beneath Tiresias’s ear, and when he brushed his tongue over it, Tiresias gasped, fingers tightening almost painfully in Hermes' shirt.

Hermes paused, pulling back just enough to admire the flush of color that spread across Tiresias’s cheeks, the way their lips were parted just slightly, breath coming out in shaky puffs. “You alright?” Hermes asked, voice softening, hand brushing soothingly through Tiresias’s hair. His wings fluttered lightly, almost nervously.

A small smile worked its way across Tiresias’s face. Then the prophet moved.

Hermes' back hit the stone wall with a soft thud, the impact sending a jolt up his spine. His wings fluttered instinctively, feathers bristling at the suddenness of it all. Tiresias’s hands were in his hair, tangled and firm, holding him steady as their mouths crashed together.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was fierce and unyielding, almost mirroring the tides against the jagged cliffs below. Hermes' hands scrambled for purchase, fingers curling around the fabric of Tiresias’s tunic, pulling them closer, desperate and unrestrained.

Their mouths moved in tandem, a rhythm that was both practiced and frantic, as if afraid the moment would slip through their fingers if they paused even for a breath. Tiresias’s grip tightened, hands sliding to cup the back of Hermes' head, holding him steady as they deepened the kiss, teeth grazing his lower lip with just enough pressure to make Hermes shudder.

And then Tiresias's hand slid down, fingertips brushing the delicate feathers of Hermes' ankle wings. The reaction was instant. Hermes jerked, a gasp tearing from his lips, wings flaring in response. Tiresias’s mouth quirked in a smile against Hermes' lips. “Sensitive, are we?” He murmured.

Hermes' hands were still tangled in Tiresias’s hair, his breath coming in short, stuttered bursts. “Starlight,” he whined, his eyes shut tight as if he could barely withstand the sensation. “That’s…oh gods, you can’t–”

Tiresias only smiled, unhurried and composed, fingers dancing along the delicate feathers of Hermes' ankle wings with the sort of precision that spoke of his attentiveness, his ability to sense the slightest twitch or shudder. “I didn’t know you were so…responsive. When you said they were ‘mood-based,’ I always hoped I’d get to find out what exactly that meant.” He murmured, voice soft and warm, lips brushing just against Hermes' jawline as he spoke.

Hermes' wings flared slightly, his hands gripping tighter in Tiresias’s hair as he tilted his head back against the stone wall, eyes fluttering open just enough to catch the fading sunlight above. “I–” he gasped, words catching on the breathlessness of his voice. His wings gave a slight flutter, brushing against Tiresias’s legs where they knelt.

Tiresias chuckled, their breath ghosting over Hermes' skin, sending another shiver through his frame. “You’re beautiful like this,” they whispered, lips brushing along the sensitive skin just beneath Hermes' ear. “I wish you could see it.”

Hermes huffed out a laugh, shaky and unsteady. “I’m glad you can’t,” he murmured. “I probably look ridiculous.”

“Not at all,” Tiresias replied, their hands never ceasing their gentle exploration. They trailed their fingertips along the length of the ankle wings, pressing just a little harder near the base where feather met skin. The reaction was instant; Hermes' breath hitched, his wings flaring out in a ripple of movement that scattered sand into the wind.

“Gods, Tiresias!” Hermes nearly yelped, his wings giving an instinctive flutter as if they were trying to take flight on their own. Tiresias pulled back just slightly, fingers ghosting over the base of the wings with a feather-light touch.

“Yes, sweet bird?” Tiresias whispered, his hands stilling for a moment, resting against Hermes' wings as if grounding him. “Do you want me to stop?” The question was asked gently, voice soft and patient.

Hermes' eyes flickered open, gaze catching Tiresias’s unseeing eyes, and his own expression softened. He shook his head, barely a whisper. “No,” he replied, voice raw with honesty. “Don’t stop. Please.”

Tiresias’s smile was tender, their hands resuming their gentle touch, brushing along the feathers with just enough pressure to coax the smallest shivers from Hermes. “Good,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to the corner of Hermes' mouth. “Because I wasn’t planning to.”

~~~~~

The sunlight had dipped lower in the sky by the time they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed. The cliffs were still, the waves crashing below in a steady rhythm, as if matching the pulse that thrummed through Hermes' veins. His wings fluttered gently, brushing against the rock as he leaned back, his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder.

Tiresias’s fingers were still tangled in his hair, combing through the strands with the kind of gentleness that made Hermes' heart ache. Neither of them spoke for a long time, the silence stretching out between them, warm and full of understanding. Hermes closed his eyes, allowing the warmth of Tiresias’s body to seep into him, grounding him.

“You alright?” Tiresias asked softly, their voice just above a whisper. Their hand had moved to trail along the feathers of Hermes' head wings, soft and deliberate.

Hermes hummed, tilting his head into the touch. “More than alright,” he murmured, voice heavy with contentment. “I’m perfect.”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “That’s a relief. You’ve been through a lot, sweet bird. I want you to feel good. Always.”

Hermes' wings fluttered at that, a shiver running through him. “You always make me feel good,” he whispered, his fingers coming up to trace the line of Tiresias’s jaw, gentle and reverent. “I…I don’t think I ever thought I could have this.”

Tiresias tilted their head, leaning into his touch. “And what is ‘this,’ Hermes?” he asked, voice soft and careful.

Hermes took a shaky breath, his wings giving a tiny, instinctive flicker. “Peace. Safety. A place to just…be,” he confessed, voice cracking just slightly. “With you, it’s like I’m not running anymore. I’m not hiding. I’m just here and that’s okay.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheekbone with a tenderness that made Hermes' heart clench. “You are,” Tiresias whispered. “You’re here. With me.” Their voice was steady, grounding. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. He blinked rapidly, wings fluttering as if to dispel the emotion. “I used to think…I used to think I wasn’t enough. For anyone. Not really.” His voice was soft, almost broken. “I was always moving, always going somewhere. No one could catch me. And now…now I’m here. And you see me.” He looked up, eyes glassy but resolute. “You really see me.”

Tiresias’s smile was gentle and knowing. “I do,” they whispered. “I always have.” Their hand brushed along his head wings again, featherlight and reverent. “And I always will.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, eyes closing as he let out a shaky breath. “You know,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been this still. Not for this long.”

Tiresias hummed, his fingers continuing to brush along the delicate feathers. “Then I suppose I’m doing something right,” he teased gently.

Hermes' wings fluttered again, and he laughed, the sound soft and warm. “You’re doing everything right, Starlight.” He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Tiresias’s cheek. “Absolutely everything.”

They stayed like that for a while, the cliffs stretching out below them, the sky turning shades of amber and rose as the sun dipped lower. Hermes' head rested against Tiresias’s shoulder, their hands still entwined, fingers brushing over feathers and curls with love.

After a long stretch of silence, Tiresias tilted their head slightly. “I’m guessing we’ve missed dinner.”

Hermes snorted, wings fluttering. “We have,” he admitted, but there was no regret in his voice. “I’d say it was worth it.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hand moving to gently smooth out a feather Hermes had ruffled in his earlier enthusiasm. “I’m inclined to agree.”

Hermes leaned in, resting his head against Tiresias’s shoulder once more, wings curling slightly around his ankles. “We’ll head back soon,” he whispered, voice soft and content. “But not yet.”

“No,” Tiresias agreed, their hand moving back to Hermes' hair, carding through the soft curls with deliberate care. “Not yet.”

The sun had dipped low by the time Hermes and Tiresias made their way back to the palace, the last vestiges of daylight casting long shadows over the winding paths. Hermes' ankle wings fluttered lazily behind him, brushing against the grass as they walked side by side, hands still intertwined. Tiresias’s thumb traced soft patterns along the back of Hermes' hand, their expression peaceful and content.

They walked in silence for a while, neither feeling the need to break the tranquility that had settled between them. The warmth of the sun still lingered in their skin, the salt of the sea breeze caught in their hair. Hermes couldn’t stop stealing glances at Tiresias, his smile soft and unbidden every time he did.

“Think they’ll be mad we’re late?” Hermes asked, his voice hushed.

Tiresias tilted their head thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corner of their lips. “I think they’ll be relieved you didn’t drag me off for one of your schemes,” he replied teasingly.

Hermes gasped, wings flaring dramatically. “Me? I would never!” He paused, then grinned sheepishly. “Well, not this time.”

Tiresias chuckled, squeezing his hand. “Come on, sweet bird. Let’s go see your family.”

They slipped through the arched doorway, the warmth and light of the hall enveloping them instantly. The long table was filled with familiar faces; Penelope at the head, Odysseus beside her, Telemachus waving his hands animatedly as he recounted what had to be some grand adventure. Apollo was there too, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he listened with an amused smile.

It didn’t take long for the group to notice the late arrivals. Telemachus was the first to spot them, his eyes going wide with excitement. “Hermes! Tiresias! You’re back!” he shouted, waving them over with enthusiasm that could rival Hermes' own.

Penelope turned, her smile warm and knowing. “We were beginning to wonder if you two had gotten lost,” she teased gently, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

Hermes sauntered forward, wings flaring slightly. “Lost? Never. I know every path in Ithaca by heart,” he replied, sliding into the seat next to Apollo with a flourish. He gestured for Tiresias to sit beside him, his hand never leaving theirs. Tiresias settled gracefully, their smile still lingering.

Odysseus leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “So, where did you two disappear off to? I half-expected you to be halfway to the edge of the island by now.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, wings giving a playful flutter. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Penelope chuckled, passing a plate of fresh bread down the table. “I suppose you don’t need to tell us. So long as you’re back safely.” She said, eyes twinkling.

Telemachus piped up, leaning forward with curiosity. “Did you go to the lookout spot? On the cliffs? It’s my favorite place on the island!”

Tiresias smiled warmly. “We did. It’s beautiful there. The waves sound so much clearer from that height.” Their voice was soft, and Hermes couldn’t help but glance at them, his expression melting into something unbearably fond.

Apollo raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “So that’s where you’ve been,” he teased, voice light and airy. “I was beginning to think you got yourself tangled up with the nymphs.” He gave Hermes a playful nudge. “Glad to see I was wrong.”

Hermes snorted, wings fluttering. “Oh, please. I’ve outgrown that phase. Mostly.” He grinned cheekily, grabbing a slice of bread and tearing it in half.

Odysseus chuckled, pouring wine into his cup. “I’m just glad you two are enjoying Ithaca.” He raised his glass. “To good company and good fortune.”

The group lifted their cups in unison, echoing the toast before taking a drink. Hermes caught Tiresias’s gaze over the rim of his cup, their expression soft and fond. He leaned in just slightly, voice low enough for only them to hear. “I’m glad you came out with me today.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, their hand slipping over his beneath the table, fingers lacing together. “Me too, sweet bird. Me too.”

“Hey. You owe me a favor.” Telemachus said suddenly, pointing at Apollo. The god raised his eyebrows. 

“I do?”

Telemachus rolled his eyes. “Come on, you can’t go back on your word. You said you owe me a favor for telling you which way Hermes went earlier.” Hermes gasped.

“I’m offended you would sell me out like that, Telemachus!” The messenger fake cried. Apollo laughed.

“That’s right. I did say that, didn’t I? Well, young prince. What’s it to be?” Telemachus’s eyes shone.

“Will you train with me tomorrow? You’re the best archer, I just know it. You could show me how to shoot. Or we could spar. Please?” The boy asked. Apollo smiled fondly.

“I’d be happy to train with you, Telemachus. I don’t know if I’m the best archer, that would have to be my sister, but I’ll be happy to show you what I can.”

Telemachus bounced with joy. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He said. He turned to Hermes. “Could you come too? I always love learning more of the trickery you call strategy.” He grinned and Hermes smiled back.

“I can’t so no to that face, now can I?” Telemachus cheered, excited to train with the gods in the morning.

“Would you mind if I join, Telemachus? I wouldn’t spar, but I do love hearing Hermes get bested, I mean defeating his brother.” Tiresias said.

“Starlight!” Hermes cried playfully.

“You can join! The more the merrier!” Telemachus beamed.

Notes:

Okay okay okay. Sorry for the hint of sadness…but I love the idea of Odysseus setting up a memorial to honor all of his men. And I love the idea of little trinkets/offerings set at the stone…don't hate me too much.

ANYWAYS…oops.

Take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

P.S. I teased a surprise guest last update…they're in the next chapter. Which will be posted either later today or tomorrow…depends on how I feel. Enjoy :)

Chapter 44

Summary:

SURPRISE VISITOR!!!!!

Chapter 44:

The morning sun was just peeking over the horizon when Hermes stirred from his place curled beside Tiresias. He blinked sleepily, his wings giving a small, unconscious flutter as he stretched his arms above his head. The events of the previous day played softly through his mind, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Starlight. Wake up, we’re headed to the training grounds.” He whispered, gently peppering kisses to Tiresias’s lips. 

“Hmmm?” Tiresias murmured sleepily.

“You don’t have to join if you don’t want to, but I have to head out,” Hermes said. Tiresias’s arms looped around Hermes and pulled him back down.

“Shhhh. You’re being far too noisy, little bird.” Tiresias murmured, nuzzling closer to the messenger. Hermes chuckled.

“I’m very sorry, my love. But I do have to get up.” He said, running his hands through the prophet’s hair. Tiresias sighed.

“Must you? You’re so warm.” He said.

“I’m afraid I promised young Telemachus that I’d be joining him this morning. And, neither Telemachus nor Apollo would let me break that promise.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I don’t feel like facing my brother’s ‘get out of bed’ routine this morning.” He said. Tiresias laughed, reaching up and running a hand through Hermes’ hair.

“Alright, I’ll get up. Come on, little bird.” Their hand gently caressing Hermes’ head wings and they sighed.

“They were so sensitive just yesterday. What might happen this morning?” Tiresias hummed, running his fingers along the soft edges. Hermes snorted.

“I told you, they’re mood-based. I’m just excited now, so they’re a bit ticklish.” He shrugged. “Never fully understood why, but that’s the way they are.” He batted Tiresias’s hands away. “We don’t have time for that anyway. Telemachus is gonna be here soon cause we’re taking so long.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing Apollo and Telemachus up and ready for the morning.

“Come on, come on! It’s time to go!” Telemachus bounced. Hermes chuckled.

“We’re coming, I just had to get Starlight up.” He laughed. Apollo’s eyes narrowed.

“See, it looks like you’re still in bed, little brother,” Apollo teased. Hermes froze.

“Nope, nope. Getting up. Right now.” But it was too late, Apollo swooped in and grabbed the messenger, tossing him over his shoulder.

“Lesson number one, Telemachus. How to get stubborn gods out of bed.” Apollo laughed. The boy beamed.

“Alright, alright. You’ve made your point. Can you put me down? Tiresias is coming with, and I’d rather they didn’t trip over every loose stone cause no one thought to point it out.” Hermes huffed.

Apollo groaned, putting Hermes down. “Fine, but you climb back in that bed and I’ll make you regret it.”

Hermes gave a mock salute. “On my honor.” 

“Like there’s so much of that,” Apollo muttered.

“You wound me, brother.” Hermes stuck out his tongue, gently helping Tiresias up, pressing his staff into his hands. 

“Alright. Can we go now?” Telemachus bounced on his heels. 

Tiresias chuckled. “Of course, thank you for waiting for us.”

The training grounds were quiet in the early morning, the sun casting long shadows across the packed earth. The faint hum of cicadas drifted on the breeze, mixing with the soft rustle of olive trees that bordered the field. Telemachus bounded ahead, his wooden sword bouncing against his back, his excitement practically radiating off of him.

“Come on!” he called back, waving his arms. “We’re going to be late!”

Hermes laughed, wings fluttering slightly. “It’s just sparring, Little Trickster. I promise the practice dummies aren’t going anywhere.”

Apollo gasped. “Oh no, one got out!” He said, reaching out and ruffling Hermes’ hair. Hermes huffed, swatting his brother’s hand away.

Telemachus huffed, jogging back to join them. “Still! You promised to show me that trick with the daggers.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Apollo laughed. “I’m not sure Ithaca’s ready for that level of chaos,” he teased, and Telemachus just beamed up at him.

Tiresias walked beside Hermes, their staff tapping gently on the stone path as they moved. “You’re spoiling him,” Tiresias remarked with a fond smile.

Hermes shrugged, wings giving a little flutter. “Someone’s got to. He’s like a sponge, so eager to learn. And besides,” his eyes sparkled, “who wouldn’t want to learn from the best?”

Tiresias chuckled softly. “If your head inflates any more, I fear you’ll float away.”

Hermes grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “You love it.”

Tiresias laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Maybe I do.”

The young prince practically bounced with each step, his grin wide and infectious.

Hermes laughed, ruffling Telemachus’s hair. “You’re going to wear yourself out before we even start,” he teased.

Telemachus shook his head vehemently. “Not a chance! I’ve been waiting for this all week.” He looked up at Apollo, eyes sparkling. “You’re gonna show me how to properly handle the bow, too, right?”

Apollo grinned, his golden curls catching the sunlight. “I’d be honored, Little Wolf.” He glanced at Hermes with a glimmer of mischief. “Of course, that’s assuming your favorite trickster over here doesn’t get us into trouble first.”

Hermes stuck his tongue out. “I’m always on my best behavior,” he replied, wings fluttering for emphasis.

Tiresias chuckled softly. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, wings flaring. “Really, Starlight? Betrayed by my own beloved prophet?”

Tiresias merely smiled, their hand brushing gently against Hermes' arm. “Someone has to keep you in check.”

They stepped through the archway that led to the grounds, and Hermes paused, his wings giving a sudden, involuntary twitch. His breath stilled in his chest.

Athena was there.

She stood in the center of the sparring ring, her armor glimmering in the morning light, her posture tall and steady. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, but at the sound of their approach, she turned, her eyes locking with Hermes'.

Hermes faltered, his wings drawing tight against his ankles. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. The instinct to retreat was immediate and strong. He took a half-step back, wings fluttering nervously. Tiresias’s arms immediately wrapped around him, grounding him, comforting him. “I…I can come back another time,” he murmured, voice cracking just slightly. “I don’t want to…Telemachus should have his morning.”

Before anyone else could speak, Athena’s voice rang out, steady and calm. “Wait.”

Hermes froze, his breath catching. Athena took a step forward, her gaze still locked on his, unyielding and sure. “I’m here to see you,” she said, her voice softer but no less resolute. “I hoped you’d be out this morning.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, brushing against his calves, curling protectively. His eyes darted to Apollo, who had gone still beside him, his expression sharp and guarded. Telemachus looked between them, confusion written across his face. Tiresias remained silent, still holding Hermes.

Apollo stepped forward, placing himself just slightly in front of Hermes, his shoulders squared. “Why?” he asked, his voice low and edged with protectiveness. “Why now, Athena?”

Athena didn’t flinch. Her eyes met Apollo’s, steady and unyielding. “Because I’m not afraid of him anymore.” Her voice was firm, the words ringing with conviction. “Of our father. Of what he might do if I chose to be here.” She took another step forward, her eyes softening just a touch. “I’m done pretending that I don’t care. I’m done ignoring you.”

Apollo’s jaw tightened, his gaze never wavering. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Where were you when he fell? When Father cast him out? When I had to sneak away just to make sure he was still alive?”

Athena’s expression wavered, her eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. “Where were you?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady, her gaze unblinking.

Apollo faltered, his breath catching. His eyes flickered down to the ground, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I…I wasn’t there,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I wasn’t there, and I’ve never stopped regretting it. I should have been. I should have stopped it. I should have…” He swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “I was too afraid. Too afraid of him. Of what he’d do if I stepped in. I’m a coward.”

Hermes stepped forward, his wings brushing against Apollo’s legs. “You came back,” he murmured, his voice gentle and sure. “You came back, Polly. That’s more than anyone else did.” The last sentence sent a small bite through Athena’s heart. She flinched.

Apollo’s jaw clenched, and he lifted his gaze to meet Hermes'. His eyes were glassy, shimmering with unspoken emotion. “But I wasn’t there,” he whispered. “When you fell. When he cast you out. Not really. I didn’t do enough.”

Hermes shook his head, his wings fluttering with insistence. “You are now. That’s what matters.”

Tiresias’s hand found Apollo’s, their fingers lacing through his, grounding him. “Hermes is right,” they said softly, their voice like a balm. “You’re here now. That’s more than enough.”

Apollo’s shoulders sagged just slightly, the tension bleeding from him. He nodded, taking a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Athena stepped forward, her gaze resolute. “I’m not afraid anymore,” she repeated, her voice firmer now. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Hermes.” Her voice cracked on his name, raw and unguarded.

“Why now?” Apollo asked, his voice still edged with suspicion. “What changed?”

Athena’s eyes met his, unyielding and sharp. “You did.” Her voice was steady, almost reverent. “You defied him. You stood by Hermes. You didn’t back down. And I…” Her gaze flickered back to Hermes, and her expression softened. “I’m sorry, Herms. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

Hermes' wings flared just slightly, trembling at the edges. His hands flexed at his sides, unsure of where to go or what to do. His voice came out small. “You mean that?”

Athena stepped forward, closing the distance between them with measured, deliberate steps. “I do.” She knelt, bringing herself eye-level with him. “I should have been there. I should have fought for you. But I’m here now. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m not afraid of him. I want to be your sister again, if you’ll have me.”

Hermes' wings flared out, brushing the dirt, his breath catching. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. And then, like a dam breaking, he darted forward, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. His wings fluttered wildly, and he all but crashed into her, his arms winding around her shoulders in a fierce, desperate embrace.

Athena staggered back a step, but her arms came up immediately, wrapping around him with the sort of strength only a warrior could muster. Hermes buried his face in her shoulder, his wings fluttering helplessly.

“Thethe,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion. “Thethe.”

Athena’s eyes closed, and she pressed her cheek to his hair, her arms tightening. “I haven’t heard that since you were young,” she murmured, her voice breaking just slightly. “I missed it.”

Hermes' shoulders shook, his wings trembling with the force of it. “I missed you,” he whispered, voice muffled but unmistakably clear. “I missed you so much.”

Athena held him tighter, her hands coming up to cup the back of his head. “I’m here now,” she promised, her voice firm and resolute. “I’m not going anywhere, Hermes.”

Behind them, Apollo stood still, his eyes wide and unblinking. His expression softened, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. Tiresias stepped closer to him, their hand brushing his arm in silent comfort.

Tiresias’s voice was soft. “She…she came back,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

Apollo’s gaze softened further, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Yeah, she did.”

And for the first time in far too long, Hermes held his sister, wings fluttering with joy, and the world felt just a little bit more whole.

Telemachus, oblivious to the tension that had filled the space before, grinned brightly. “Does that mean Lady Athena’s going to spar with us?” he asked eagerly.

Athena laughed, a sound that was warm and bright. She pulled back from Hermes, brushing a hand gently over his curls. “I think I just might,” she said, her gaze flickering back to Hermes. “If that’s alright with you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he managed a shaky, but genuine smile. “I’d like that,” he whispered. His eyes met hers, and she could see, shining in the sky blue orbs, trust.

~~~~

The morning sun cast long shadows across the sparring grounds as Apollo stood beside Telemachus, a bow in his hands and a quiver of arrows slung across his back. The young prince watched him with wide, eager eyes, practically bouncing on his toes. “How do you do it? You make it look so easy!” Telemachus marveled, his gaze flicking between the bow and Apollo’s steady hands.

Apollo chuckled, his golden curls glimmering in the sunlight. “It’s all about control, Little Wolf,” he said gently, offering the bow to Telemachus. “Here. Try holding it like this.” He moved behind the boy, adjusting his stance, straightening his shoulders, and guiding his hands to the right positions. “There you go. Now, pull back, steady, steady.” His hands covered Telemachus’s, showing him the motion. “Feel the tension. It’s like the string is alive; you have to respect it.”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide with concentration, his brow furrowed. “Like this?” he asked, voice taut with focus.

“Perfect,” Apollo praised, stepping back just slightly. “Now, when you release, don’t just let go, guide it forward. You want it to fly straight, like you’re still holding it even after it’s left your hands.”

Telemachus nodded fiercely, his expression determined. He released the arrow, and it flew in a graceful arc, landing just shy of the target’s center. He gasped, turning to Apollo with pure delight. “Did you see that?”

Apollo grinned, his eyes bright with pride. “I did. That was incredible.” He ruffled Telemachus’s hair. “We’ll make an archer out of you yet.”

Meanwhile, Hermes stood off to the side, wings fluttering restlessly as he watched his brother and the young prince. Tiresias sat comfortably on the low stone wall, their hands folded neatly in their lap, head tilted slightly to catch the sounds of Telemachus’s laughter and Apollo’s gentle instructions. Hermes couldn’t help but grin, his wings giving a tiny, impatient flick.

Athena’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re not content to just watch, are you?”

Hermes turned, his grin widening at the sight of her. She stood with her arms crossed, her gaze sharp and assessing. “When am I ever?” he teased, wings flaring slightly.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “I should have known.” She reached to her side, drawing two wooden practice swords from the rack and tossing one to him. Hermes caught it with ease, spinning it once in his hand.

“So,” he began, tapping the sword against the ground rhythmically. “You think you can take me, Thena?”

Athena’s expression didn’t waver. “I don’t think, I know.” Her stance shifted, feet planted firmly in the dirt, shoulders squared and ready. “Show me what you’ve got, Hermes.”

Hermes' grin turned sly. “Oh, I intend to.” Without another word, he lunged forward, wings flaring for balance as he moved with a speed that left the dust swirling in his wake. His sword met hers with a sharp crack, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the courtyard, Telemachus glanced their way before Apollo guided him back to focus on the bow.

Athena didn’t even flinch. She met his strike head-on, her feet planted solidly, her expression unyielding. “You’re still predictable,” she noted, parrying his next swing with an effortless grace. “I’ve seen that strike a thousand times.”

Hermes scoffed, wings giving a flutter of indignation. “I’m just getting warmed up, Thena.” He shifted his weight, pivoting to her left with a flicker of movement that sent his wings flaring wide, creating a gust of wind that kicked up the dust at their feet.

Athena raised an eyebrow, blocking him easily. “A distraction? Really?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement. “I thought you’d grown past parlor tricks.”

Hermes' grin didn’t falter. “You say that, but you still raised your arm,” he pointed out cheekily, and before she could respond, he darted behind her, wings fluttering to create just enough momentum to sweep her legs out from under her.

Athena stumbled, catching herself before she could fully hit the ground. She straightened, brushing the dust from her armor. “That was sloppy,” she noted, her eyes sharp and assessing. “If I’d been ready, you wouldn’t have gotten that far.”

“If you’d been ready, you wouldn’t have fallen for it,” Hermes shot back, wings flaring with pride. “You taught me to use my environment, remember?”

Athena huffed, adjusting her grip on the wooden sword. “I did,” she conceded. Her gaze turned sharp. “But you still rely too much on trickery. Where’s your form? Your stance? You can’t just fly your way out of every battle.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow, twirling the sword effortlessly in his hands. “You say that, but it’s gotten me this far.” His wings gave an excited flutter, brushing dust off the ground. “And besides, you love it. Admit it.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “I love it when you actually fight. Not when you flit around like a butterfly.” Her stance shifted, solid and immovable. “Now, fight me properly. No tricks.”

Hermes paused for a moment, studying her stance. His wings fluttered gently, and then he grinned wide. “If you say so.” He launched himself forward, this time keeping his wings tucked close, his movements tighter and more controlled. Their swords met with a sharp crack, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of wood on wood, the swish of movement, and the occasional laugh of pure delight from Hermes.

Athena blocked each swing with practiced ease, her expression growing more approving with every strike. “Better,” she noted, deflecting a sharp jab with a flick of her wrist. “Much better.”

Hermes' wings flared slightly, and he stepped back, his grin wide and bright. “You mean that?”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she replied, her voice firm. “You’ve grown, Hermes.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, his grin only widening. “I’m just getting started, Thethe.” He spun the sword once in his hand, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Ready for round two?”

Athena smirked, lifting her own sword. “Always.”

Apollo’s voice drifted over from the other side of the sparring grounds. “Hey, are you two done yet? I think Telemachus just bested me!”

Hermes turned, his eyes going wide. “No way! Already?”

Telemachus, practically glowing with pride, nodded eagerly. “I did! Lord Apollo says I’m a natural!”

Athena laughed proudly. “That’s my Little Wolf!”

Telemachus bounded over, his eyes bright. “Hermes! Lady Athena! Will you both show me how you fight?”

Hermes looked to Athena, his wings fluttering expectantly. “Well, Thena? Up for a bit of a challenge?”

Athena raised her sword, a grin spreading across her face. “I wouldn’t miss it.” Her gaze was sharp, focused entirely on Hermes, who was circling her with a grin that bordered on reckless.

“You sure you’re ready for this, Thethe?” Hermes teased, wings fluttering slightly with anticipation. He twirled his own wooden sword with a flourish, the light catching on its polished surface.

Athena raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “I don’t know, little brother. You’re still all flurry and no substance.” She lifted her blade, pointing it directly at his chest. “You’ve got heart, but heart doesn’t win battles.”

Hermes' grin widened. “It does if you know where to aim it.” And without another word, he lunged.

Athena parried with practiced ease, as Hermes moved quickly, darting from side to side, wings flaring and folding as he danced around her, his feet barely touching the ground. He ducked under her swings, slid past her strikes, always just out of reach.

“Still dodging, I see,” Athena noted, her voice steady and unimpressed. She swung wide, forcing Hermes to leap back, wings flaring for balance. “You can’t always dance your way out of trouble, Hermes.”

Hermes just laughed, twirling the sword in his hand. “Dancing’s half the fun!” He lunged again, feinting left before pivoting sharply to her right. Athena followed his movements with ease, blocking every strike with infuriating precision. But Hermes' grin only widened. “Come on, Thena! You’re making this too easy.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Easy, is it?” She stepped forward, her strikes coming faster now, more precise. Hermes deflected them, barely, his wings flaring out to catch the wind and shift his weight. But Athena’s assault was relentless; each swing was stronger, more calculated. She was pressing him back, step by step, her expression unyielding.

Hermes' wings flared behind him, and suddenly he wasn’t moving backward anymore. He slid to the side, dipping low to sweep his leg under her stance. Athena stumbled, just a little, and Hermes darted forward, tapping her on the shoulder with the wooden blade. “Point,” he announced gleefully, wings fluttering in excitement.

Athena straightened, brushing off the dust with a raised eyebrow. “A fluke,” she declared. “You’re still all feathers and no bite.”

Hermes tilted his head, his grin widening. “You’d be surprised.” He stepped back, wings fluttering slightly. “I can do this all day, Thethe.”

Athena’s eyes glimmered with challenge. “Then prove it.” 

He lunged forward, wooden sword arcing through the air, but before he could make contact, a second blade intercepted his, knocking it clean out of his hands. Hermes blinked, wings flaring wide. “What the–?”

“Think you can get away with that cheap shot twice?” Apollo’s voice rang out, clear and full of mischief. He stood just behind Athena, sword raised and grin impossibly wide.

Hermes' eyes narrowed. “Polly,” he began slowly, wings fluttering nervously. “You’re not thinking of joining in, are you?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, twirling his sword with ease. “What, you didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” He stepped into the ring beside Athena, her expression already alight with challenge.

Hermes glanced back and forth between them, his wings fluttering in rapid, anxious bursts. “This isn’t fair,” he declared, his voice high with playful indignation. “Two against one? That’s—”

“Oh, you survived worse, little brother,” Athena cut in, her eyes gleaming. “I seem to recall you lasting five whole minutes against me and Ares before you gave up.”

Apollo laughed, stepping forward with his sword at the ready. “Think you can last six this time?” he teased.

Hermes groaned dramatically, his wings flaring. “I see how it is. Just like old times.” His grin returned, sharper now, his stance shifting back into readiness. “Fine. Let’s see if you two can keep up.”

Athena exchanged a glance with Apollo, and then they both lunged forward.

Hermes' wings flared wide, and he threw himself backward, barely avoiding the clash of their blades. “Oh, you are so going to regret this!” he shouted as he sprinted to the other side of the ring, dust trailing behind him.

“Oh, I doubt it!” Apollo called back, his laughter bright and unrestrained.

And with that, the sparring grounds came alive with movement. Hermes was dodging, ducking, and weaving as his siblings hunted him down, wooden swords clashing, shouts of laughter echoing through the courtyard.

Telemachus sat cross-legged beside Tiresias, his eyes wide and unblinking as he watched the sparring match unfold before him. His hands were clenched tightly around his knees, leaning forward so far that Tiresias occasionally had to place a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him from tumbling forward.

Hermes danced across the sparring grounds, wings flaring out as he ducked and weaved between Athena and Apollo’s strikes. The clash of wooden swords rang out, punctuated by Hermes' laughter and Apollo’s occasional curse when Hermes managed to slip through his defenses. Athena, for her part, was relentless, her movements calculated and sharp, every swing precise and powerful.

“Oh gods,” Telemachus breathed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’ve never seen anything like this! They’re like…like a storm and a hurricane and…” He shook his head, unable to find the right words. “It’s amazing.”

Tiresias chuckled softly beside him, their hands folded neatly over their staff. “It is something, isn’t it?” They leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the sun sink into their skin. “Hermes used to tell me stories about this. About when he was young. He would sneak into the training grounds on Olympus just to watch.” Tiresias smiled fondly. “He said Athena was like a force of nature. Precise, unyielding, and terrifyingly good.”

Telemachus blinked, his eyes flickering back to the scene in front of him. “Hermes watched her spar?”

Tiresias hummed in agreement. “Oh, yes. And he told me that one day, he got brave enough, or foolish enough, depending on who you ask, to jump into the ring with her.” They chuckled. “He barely lasted five minutes before she had him flat on his back. But Hermes being Hermes, he got up, dusted himself off, and asked to go again.”

Telemachus’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

Tiresias nodded, their voice softening. “Really. Hermes said she laughed. A real, genuine laugh. He told me it was the first time he’d heard her do that.” Their smile grew, warm and bright. “From then on, she let him spar with her. He told me she got huffy whenever he tried to use his trickery. She’d scold him endlessly, but he said she always had this little smile when she did it.”

Telemachus grinned widely, practically vibrating with excitement. “And they trained all the time?”

Tiresias nodded. “Oh, constantly. Hermes said she called him her ‘most infuriating student’ but also her most persistent.” Tiresias chuckled. “He told me he used to call her ‘Thethe’ because he couldn’t pronounce ‘Athena’ when he was little.”

Telemachus’s eyes sparkled. “Thethe,” he echoed, giggling a little. “That’s cute.”

Tiresias’s smile softened, their gaze turning back to the sparring grounds. “It is. And she never stopped him from saying it. Not once.”

Just then, Odysseus’s familiar footsteps approached, and Telemachus turned, grinning widely. “Father! Look! Look what’s happening!” he exclaimed, bouncing slightly where he sat.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow as he took in the scene: Athena and Apollo moving in tandem, pressing Hermes back step by step, the messenger’s wings flaring and fluttering as he weaved between their strikes. He crossed his arms over his chest, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Lady Athena?”

Tiresias inclined their head slightly in Odysseus’s direction. “Surprising, isn’t it?”

Odysseus settled beside them, his gaze never leaving the sparring match. “I didn’t think she would,” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Well, I didn’t think she’d be here.”

Tiresias’s smile grew soft and understanding. “None of us did.” His voice was gentle, threaded with something almost reverent. “But she came. She’s not afraid anymore.”

Odysseus’s brow furrowed, his eyes still locked on the scene before him. “Not afraid? Afraid of what?”

Tiresias hesitated, his hand tightening slightly around their staff. “Of him. Of what it would mean to defy him. Of what it would mean to love her brother openly.” They said.

Odysseus’s gaze softened, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding. “Zeus,” he murmured.

Tiresias nodded, their gaze still fixed on the sparring match. “Yes. She’s been afraid. All of them have been, in their own way.” They smiled faintly, their eyes glimmering with a sort of sad wisdom. “But not anymore. Not today.”

Odysseus watched as Athena deflected a particularly clever strike from Hermes, her laughter bright and unrestrained. Apollo followed up, stepping in with a flourish that had Hermes scrambling to dodge, wings flaring out behind him.

“I worked with Lady Athena for years. Not once did I hear her laugh like that.” Odysseus murmured.

“Hermes tends to bring out the best in people. I still remember the first time he got Lord Hades to laugh.” Tiresias sighed fondly. Telemachus’s head whipped back to them.

“Lord Hades? You know him?” He asked amazed. Tiresias chuckled.

“Of course I do. I’m a seer in his domain. I serve him. And,” Tiresias turned his unseeing gaze back to the chaotic noise of the training grounds, “Hermes is his family.”

“They look happy,” Odysseus observed quietly, following Tiresias’s gaze.

“They are,” Tiresias replied, their voice full of warmth. “They’re healing.”

Telemachus turned to look at them, his eyes shining with curiosity. “Healing?”

Tiresias nodded, their expression gentle. “Yes. Healing.” They gestured toward the sparring grounds, where Hermes had just ducked under a swing from Athena, his laughter echoing across the courtyard. “They’ve been apart for so long. Broken and scattered. But now they’re coming back together. Piece by piece.”

Odysseus let out a slow breath, his gaze softening. “I never thought I’d see it,” he murmured. “Not like this.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand brushing gently over their staff. “Neither did I,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But it’s happening. And I think…no, I know, it’s only the beginning.”

Odysseus watched the trio spar, his gaze growing thoughtful. “And what of the consequences?” he asked quietly, his eyes still fixed on the gods before him. “What will happen when he finds out?”

Tiresias’s expression didn’t falter. They looked up at him, their gaze unwavering. “We’ll face that when it comes,” they replied firmly. “For now, let them be.” They turned back to the sparring grounds, their voice dropping to a whisper. “They deserve this.”

Odysseus nodded, his eyes bright with something like hope. “Aye,” he murmured. “That they do.”

The sun hung higher in the sky now, casting warm light across the sparring grounds. A faint breeze rustled the olive branches, sending the soft scent of earth and greenery through the air. Tiresias and Odysseus were still seated beneath the olive tree, with Telemachus perched on the edge of the stone bench, eyes wide and eager as he watched the gods continue their fight.

“Ready to lose, Thethe?” Hermes called, grinning wide and bright, still dodging blow after blow.

Athena snorted. “Until you start fighting back, little brother, I’m not too worried about losing. Besides, I still remember how easily I disarmed you in the Hall of Valor.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wound me! And besides, I was just a kid back then. I’m older, wiser, and infinitely more clever now.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Clever, I’ll give you. Wiser? I’m not convinced.”

From the sidelines, Telemachus leaned in toward Tiresias. “Do you think he has a chance?”

Tiresias chuckled, tapping his staff lightly against the earth. “It depends. Athena’s strength is in strategy and form. Hermes, well, he’s unpredictable. And that’s a different kind of strength.”

Odysseus nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve seen that firsthand.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Gods help anyone who thinks they have him cornered.”

Hermes' grin grew wider. “Think fast!” And with a flick of his wrist, a small pebble sailed through the air, bouncing off Athena’s shield with a sharp ping.

Athena turned, eyes narrowing. “You little–”

Hermes cackled, wings flaring out behind him as he ducked another swipe of her spear. “I never said I’d play fair!” he called back.

Telemachus watched with wide eyes. He turned to Tiresias. “Is he allowed to do that?”

Tiresias chuckled, their hand resting gently on his shoulder. “If you think there are rules when it comes to Hermes, you’re sorely mistaken. He is honorable when he needs to be, but in the battlefield, all bets are off.”

Odysseus chuckled as well, his arms crossed over his chest. “I have a feeling he’s about to get exactly what’s coming to him.”

Just then, Athena advanced with the speed of a hawk, clipping Hermes’ heel with the blunt end of her spear, sending him sprawling.

He hit the ground with a loud “Oof!” but rolled back to his feet with the grace of someone who had done it a thousand times. “See?” he called to Telemachus. “That’s how you dodge!”

“Really?” came a smooth voice from behind. Hermes barely had time to turn before Apollo lunged forward, tackling him clean off his feet. They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and feathers, Apollo laughing as Hermes struggled beneath him.

“Miss me, little brother?” Apollo teased, pinning Hermes' arms with little effort.

“Not particularly!” Hermes gasped, wings flapping helplessly against the dirt. “Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, announced yourself?”

Apollo grinned, not moving an inch. “Now, why would I go and do that?” Athena laughed.

Hermes groaned from his place beneath Apollo. “You two are conspiring against me. I can feel it.”

Athena shrugged, tapping the blunt end of her spear against the ground. “Strategic planning, Hermes. I thought you were familiar with the concept.”

From the sidelines, Telemachus leaned forward, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. “Are they always like this?”

Tiresias chuckled, shaking their head. “From what Hermes used to tell me, yes.”

Odysseus smiled, his eyes soft with memory. “That’s what siblings are for. A little chaos, a little rivalry. I remember Polities, Eurylochus, and I did the same.” He sighed fondly, though a hint of sadness could be heard. “They may not have been related by blood, but they were my brothers. And not a day goes by that I don’t miss them.”

Tiresias reached out and placed a hand on the king’s knee. “They miss you too. I’m sure they’re watching over you now.” He murmured. The king flashed a thankful smile at the prophet. A small shout drew their attention back to the field.

Hermes managed to twist just enough to glare up at Apollo. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he huffed.

Apollo just laughed. “More than you know.” He stood, offering Hermes a hand. “Come on. I haven’t seen you that slow since you tried to outrun that hydra.”

Hermes took his hand, wings flaring as he got to his feet. “I did outrun the hydra.”

“Only because I shot it with an arrow,” Apollo countered.

Hermes waved a hand dismissively. “Details.”

Athena smirked, rolling her shoulders. “I think I’m ready for round three. What about you, Hermes? Or are you feeling winded?”

Hermes grinned, wings giving a sharp flutter. “Me? Winded? You know me better than that, Thethe.”

Athena smiled, lowering her spear. “Good. I’d hate to take it easy on you.”

Hermes only winked. “You never have. Not even when I first began. I wouldn’t expect you to start now.”

Athena’s grip tightened, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Then let’s see if you’ve finally learned how to keep up.”

Hermes' wings flared wide, the sunlight catching on the feathers and casting shimmering patterns across the stone. “Try me.”

Apollo laughed, cracking his knuckles. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Odysseus leaned back against the olive tree, his eyes bright with amusement. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Telemachus leaned forward eagerly. “Do you think Hermes can win?”

Tiresias tilted their head thoughtfully. “With Hermes? Winning is relative. He’ll make sure someone is confused by the end of it. Whether that’s Athena, Apollo, or…himself, which it usually is, I suppose we’ll find out.”

Notes:

I KNOW! This was supposed to go out yesterday. I forgot. I was at my grandma's house. Sorry.

Anyways, BIG REVEAL!!! ATHENA'S HERE!!! Is she here for good? Is she staying? Who knows. (I do…I know. But I'm not telling you. Not yet)

Now. Go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap (that's what I'm about to do), and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 45

Summary:

More sparring with Thena!

Hermes barely had time to adjust his stance before both Apollo and Athena surged forward, their movements perfectly in sync. Apollo swung his wooden sword in a wide arc, aiming for Hermes' side, while Athena darted in low, her spear tip brushing the dirt before sweeping upward.

Hermes yelped, ducking under Apollo’s strike, wings flaring to propel himself backward. He just barely avoided Athena’s upward jab, her spear grazing the hem of his tunic. “Oh, come on!” he shouted, scrambling to put some distance between himself and his siblings.

Apollo laughed, his eyes bright and full of mischief. “What’s the matter, little brother? You can dodge faster than that!”

Hermes huffed, barely pausing to catch his breath before lunging forward, aiming a quick strike at Athena's exposed side. She parried easily, spinning on her heel and knocking Hermes' sword away. “You’re too slow,” Apollo teased.

Hermes shot him a glare. “I was distracted by a certain golden idiot!”

Athena didn’t give him a moment to recover, charging forward with a swift series of jabs. Hermes twisted, ducking to the side, but her spear nicked his shoulder, making him stumble.

“Focus,” Athena instructed, her tone firm but not unkind. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“I’m getting overwhelmed!” Hermes shot back, darting sideways to put Apollo between him and Athena.

Apollo grinned. “That’s the point!” He lunged at Hermes, aiming high, and Hermes ducked, sweeping his leg out in an attempt to trip his brother. Apollo hopped over it easily, delivering a playful thwack to the back of Hermes' knees with the flat of his blade.

Hermes went down hard, catching himself on his hands just before his face hit the dirt. He barely had time to scramble back up when Athena’s spear was at his chest, stopping just short of touching him.

“Yield,” she ordered, voice steady.

Hermes panted, his wings flapping weakly in protest. “No chance,” he gritted out, shooting her a defiant glare.

Athena’s lips quirked into a smirk. “Wrong answer.”

With a swift flick, she hooked his ankle, sending him sprawling again. Hermes' wings fluttered in frustration, kicking up dust as he tried to right himself. Before he could get fully upright, Apollo pressed the flat of his sword against Hermes' back.

“Looks like you’re pinned,” Apollo sang out, his voice annoyingly cheerful.

Hermes struggled for a moment, then flopped back onto the ground dramatically, arms spread wide. “Fine. I yield. You win. Happy?”

Athena chuckled, stepping back to allow him to stand. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

Hermes sat up, shaking dust from his hair. His wings gave a petulant flutter. “You two are the worst.”

Apollo knelt beside him, ruffling his hair. “You love us anyway.”

Hermes shot him a playful glare, but his eyes softened. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Athena offered him a hand, and Hermes hesitated for a moment before taking it. She pulled him to his feet, and he stumbled slightly, his wings catching him before he fell. Athena steadied him, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. “You did well,” she said quietly.

Hermes raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that? I spent half the fight on the ground.”

Athena’s lips quirked up. “You kept getting back up. That’s what matters.”

Apollo wrapped an arm around Hermes' shoulders, pulling him into a sideways hug. “You lasted longer than I thought you would, honestly,” he teased.

"I don't know why I thought I could take the two of you on." He rolled his eyes.

Athena’s lips quirked up. “If you spent half as much time training as you do talking, you might actually be dangerous.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wounded by my own sister!” he cried out, wings fluttering in exaggerated despair. “You’ll pay for that, Thethe!”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Hermes grinned, and before they could react, he scooped up a handful of dust and flung it in both of their faces. “Like this!”

Athena stumbled back, coughing, while Apollo waved his hands frantically. “Hermes!” Athena shouted, her voice muffled by the dust cloud. “That’s cheating!”

Hermes just cackled, darting behind a training dummy. “I prefer the term ‘resourceful!’”

Athena cleared her throat, wiping her eyes. “You really are impossible.”

“Ah, you love me!” Hermes chirped back, twirling his wooden sword with a flourish. “Now, shall we dance?”

Athena just shook her head, a smile creeping onto her face. “You are going to regret that.”

Apollo finally blinked the dust away, his eyes sharp. “You really want to play like that, little brother?”

Hermes flared his wings in challenge. “Come and get me!”

And just like that, the chase was on.

Telemachus watched from the sidelines, eyes wide with excitement. Odysseus chuckled, from his spot next to Tiresias. "They’re going to tear this place apart," he said with a grin.

Telemachus couldn’t contain himself any longer. He leapt to his feet, wooden sword in hand. "Wait! Hermes, I’m coming!"

Hermes spun around, his grin stretching wide. "Little Trickster! Just the partner I needed! Come on, we’re gonna show them just how tricky we can be!"

Telemachus jogged up, puffing out his chest. "What do I do?"

Hermes leaned down conspiratorially. "First, we go left, then right, and when I say ‘now!’ you duck, roll, and swipe at Apollo’s ankles. He hates that."

Telemachus’s eyes gleamed with pride. "Got it!"

“Stop filling my star student’s head with nonsense!” Athena shouted, her spear leveled in challenge. Telemachus beamed, looking like he might burst with pride. "Star student," he whispered to himself, grinning ear to ear.

Hermes cackled. "I’m just making him unstoppable, Thethe. You should be thanking me!"

Athena raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I’ll thank you...right after I make you eat dirt."

Telemachus gulped but held his ground. "What now?" he whispered to Hermes.

Hermes grinned. "Now? Now we run like hell!"

And with that, they both took off, Athena and Apollo hot on their heels, and Tiresias’s laughter ringing out behind them.

Dust kicked up around their feet as Hermes led Telemachus in a dizzying path through the training grounds, weaving between practice dummies and looping back around to where Tiresias and Odysseus watched with utter delight. "You know they’re going to catch you eventually!" Odysseus called out, laughing.

Hermes shot him a wicked grin over his shoulder. "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Telemachus practically vibrated with excitement, his grin stretching wide as they ducked behind an overturned barrel. "What now?" he whispered, eyes alight with anticipation.

Hermes pressed his finger to his lips. "Now we make them think we’ve gone left." He picked up a handful of dirt, tossing it high into the air just as Athena and Apollo rounded the corner. The cloud of dust swirled in a misleading path, and both gods skidded to a stop.

Apollo coughed, waving a hand through the haze. "I swear, if I get dust in my eyes one more time, Hermes, I’m plucking those wings of yours!"

Athena squinted through the cloud. "They doubled back. I’m sure of it." She stepped forward cautiously, spear at the ready.

Hidden just behind the barrel, Hermes grinned at Telemachus. "On my mark... we sprint right. No looking back. Got it?"

Telemachus nodded fiercely. "Got it."

"Mark!" Hermes shouted, and they bolted to the right, ducking through two rows of training dummies as Athena shouted from behind.

"Hermes! You absolute menace!"

Hermes cackled, wings flaring out as he leapt over a wooden crate, Telemachus right behind him. "Catch us if you can!" he taunted, zigzagging between targets.

Telemachus giggled breathlessly, nearly tripping over his own feet but managing to keep pace. "I didn’t know running from gods would be this much fun!"

Hermes winked at him. "That’s just because you’re running with the best! Now, left!"

They darted left, ducking under an awning just as a spear thunked into the post beside them. Hermes yelped, wings fluttering. "She’s getting serious!" he laughed, grabbing Telemachus’s arm. "Come on, Little Trickster!"

Athena’s voice rang out from behind them. "You can run all you want, but you’re only delaying the inevitable!"

Hermes shot back, "Inevitable? That’s what you said last time!"

Apollo’s voice echoed across the courtyard. "I’m not falling for that dust trick again!"

Hermes grinned wildly, eyes gleaming. "Good thing I’ve got new ones!"

Without another word, he ducked behind a practice dummy, yanking Telemachus with him. "Now we wait," he whispered conspiratorially.

Telemachus’s eyes were wide with excitement. "Are we hiding?"

Hermes winked. "We’re ambushing. Big difference."

From the sidelines, Odysseus leaned back, shaking his head with a laugh. "I should feel bad for them," he mused to Tiresias. "But I really, really don’t."

Tiresias chuckled, their voice warm. "It’s been a long time since I’ve heard Hermes laugh like that. Let them run."

Before Odysseus could respond, there was a ferocious clang!

Hermes and Telemachus peeked from behind the dummy just in time to see Athena standing, chest heaving, helmet slightly askew. A massive training dummy lay flat on its back, splinters of wood scattered around its fallen form. Athena's spear was still pointed at it, and her eyes burned with fire.

Hermes clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. "Did she just…?"

"Strike down a dummy?" Telemachus finished, eyes wide. "I think she did."

Athena straightened, brushing the dust from her shoulders. "Enough of this! I swear, Hermes, I am going to–"

Hermes grabbed Telemachus's hand. "–RUN!" he shouted, and they took off, weaving wildly through the grounds.

Athena chased after them, her usual composure cracking with every shouted threat. "When I get my hands on you."

"You’re gonna what? Dust me off?" Hermes hollered over his shoulder, practically vibrating with glee.

"I’m going to make you wish you stayed in Hades' domain!" she retorted, her eyes blazing.

Hermes just laughed harder. "That’s a low blow, Thethe! Even for you!"

Athena let out a growl of frustration and flung her spear. Hermes ducked just in time, the spear embedding itself in the nearest training post. Hermes turned to Telemachus with wide eyes. "She’s serious!" he whispered conspiratorially.

Telemachus, still panting, nodded frantically. "We should hide better this time."

Hermes smirked. "Nah, we’ve got her right where we want her."

From the sidelines, Tiresias leaned toward Odysseus. "I think she’s finally going to lose it."

Odysseus crossed his arms, smirking. "About time. I don't know the last time any of them just let themselves have fun like this."

Suddenly, Apollo rounded the corner, eyes sharp and focused. "You’re not getting away this time." His smile was bright and gleeful as he cracked his knuckles. "Thethe, I think it’s time we corner him."

Athena straightened, her expression one of determination. "I think you’re right."

Hermes raised an eyebrow at Telemachus. "Alright, Little Trickster. We’re going to have to step it up a notch. Ready?"

Telemachus nodded fiercely. "Ready."

"Good," Hermes whispered. "Because we’re about to make the great Athena crack."

And with that, they bolted again, a whirlwind of dust and laughter, the chase only just beginning

Apollo lunged after them, his long strides eating up the distance. "No more tricks this time!" he called, eyes alight with mirth.

Hermes, of course, just laughed louder. "No more tricks? Apollo, I’d have to be someone else entirely!"

As they ran, Hermes suddenly dipped down, scooping up a handful of small pebbles. Without missing a beat, he hurled one right at Apollo’s chest. It bounced off harmlessly, but the golden god flinched. "Really? Pebbles?"

Hermes just cackled. "You always said I was a pebble in your shoe! Thought I’d remind you!" And he flung another one.

Apollo swatted it away, laughter bubbling up despite himself. "You are infuriating!"

Hermes grinned. "You love me!" And with that, he tossed another, aiming right for Apollo’s forehead.

Apollo ducked, then broke into a full sprint. "You’re dead!"

Hermes just threw his head back and laughed, wings flaring as he bolted faster, Telemachus right beside him. "Catch us if you can!"

Apollo’s grin widened. "Oh, I plan to." He surged forward, catching Hermes just as he tried to pivot away. They crashed to the ground in a tumble of wings and laughter. "Got you now," Apollo chuckled, pinning his younger brother to the ground.

Hermes squirmed dramatically. "Unhand me, fiend!"

Before Apollo could respond, there was a solid thunk to his shoulder, sending him stumbling. Both brothers turned, stunned, to see Odysseus standing there, wooden sword in hand, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Odysseus grinned widely. "Us against the gods. Ready?"

Athena stared for a heartbeat before, shockingly, she burst into genuine laughter. Her spear lowered, and her eyes brightened with something softer, lighter. "Oh, you are in for it now." She twirled her spear. "I hope you can keep up, old man."

Odysseus just grinned wider. "You’d be surprised."

And with that, the chaos began anew, louder and wilder than ever.

Penelope joined Tiresias on the bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she watched the chaos unfold. A soft smile touched her lips. "I didn’t know what I expected to find, but it wasn’t this," she murmured, eyes shining. "He’s getting his family back. Little by little."

Tiresias smiled warmly, nodding. "He is. And I think it’s just the beginning."

Penelope reached over, squeezing Tiresias's hand. "I’m glad."

From across the field, Athena and Apollo stood shoulder to shoulder, matching smirks on their faces. Apollo twirled his sword with an easy grace, his golden hair catching the sunlight. Athena planted her spear in the dirt, leaning casually against it, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

“I hope you’re not planning to go easy on us, old man,” Athena called, voice rich with challenge.

Odysseus chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He turned to Hermes and Telemachus, his grin never faltering. “Alright, we’re going to do this the Ithacan way. Hit hard, move fast, and when all else fails…improvise.”

Hermes' grin widened. “My favorite kind of plan.”

“Good.” Odysseus straightened, pointing his sword at Apollo. “On my mark…charge!”

They exploded forward as one, Hermes darting left, Telemachus right, while Odysseus barreled straight for Athena, his sword raised high. Athena stepped back, parrying his strike with the flat of her spear, eyes sharp with focus. “You’ve still got some fire in you,” she noted, deflecting another swing. “I’m impressed.”

Odysseus just laughed, pressing forward with a series of sharp, calculated strikes. “Don’t flatter me too much. I might start thinking you’ve gone soft.”

Athena raised an eyebrow, twisting her spear to knock his sword aside. “You wish.”

Meanwhile, Hermes zipped around Apollo, ducking and weaving with a speed that bordered on dizzying. “Come on, Pollo! I thought you’d be faster!”

Apollo swung his blade in wide arcs, trying to catch him. “You’re like a mosquito! Stand still for one second, would you?”

Hermes just laughed, twirling away with a flourish. “And let you win? Never!”

Telemachus lunged from the side, swinging his wooden sword at Apollo’s knees just as Hermes had instructed. Apollo yelped, stumbling back with wide eyes. “Did you just…Telemachus!”

Telemachus grinned, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “Gotcha!”

Apollo shook his head, fighting back a smile. “I’m going to get you for that.”

“Gotta catch me first!” Telemachus hollered back, already darting away.

From the sidelines, Tiresias and Penelope watched with delight. Tiresias leaned in, their voice warm with affection. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hermes laugh like that.”

Penelope smiled, fingers laced together in her lap. “I know. It’s…good.”

Tiresias nodded, their expression softening. “He’s home.”

Penelope squeezed their hand gently, eyes shining. “Yes. He is.”

A sudden shout erupted from the battlefield as Hermes and Telemachus looped back around, barreling straight for Odysseus, who deflected a strike from Athena just in time to catch Hermes by the arm. “You two having fun?”

“The most!” Hermes chirped, eyes gleaming. “Now let’s take them down, shall we?”

Odysseus’s grin was pure mischief. “Lead the way.”

And with that, the battle began in earnest.

The battlefield erupted with chaos and laughter, wooden swords clashing against spears, dust kicking up under their feet. Odysseus held his own against Athena, their movements a blur of strikes and counters, neither willing to yield an inch.

“Still think you can take me, old man?” Athena teased, her spear flicking out to tap Odysseus’s wrist.

Odysseus just grinned. “I think you should be more worried about the trickster behind you.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “The what–”

Hermes popped up from behind a crate, flinging a handful of sand directly at her feet. Athena leapt back, scowling. “Really? Sand?”

Hermes shrugged, laughing. “If it works, it works!”

Telemachus darted in beside him, wooden sword raised. “Did you see that? I got her to jump!”

Hermes beamed. “That’s the spirit, Little Trickster! Now, let’s keep her on her toes.”

From across the field, Apollo groaned. “Are you two just going to keep throwing things? I thought this was a sparring match!”

Hermes cupped his hands around his mouth. “Consider it…strategic improvisation!”

Apollo just laughed, shaking his head. “You’re all insane.”

Penelope leaned in closer to Tiresias, her smile never fading. “I didn’t expect this.”

Tiresias’s voice was soft, but full of joy. “Neither did I.”

Hermes darted back, narrowly avoiding Apollo's sweeping strike. "You’ll have to do better than that!" he taunted, wings flaring with every pivot.

Apollo snorted. "I’m just getting warmed up!"

Athena, meanwhile, was focused entirely on Odysseus. The two clashed in a flurry of wooden strikes, the sharp crack of practice blades echoing through the grounds. Odysseus and Telemachus were faster and stronger than she’d expected, but she matched them blow for blow, her movements precise and unyielding.

Hermes sprinted forward, aiming to catch her off guard. “Coming through!” he called, leaping between the three. Athena’s eyes flickered to him, and her stance shifted in an instant. Before Hermes could blink, her spear hooked his ankle, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Oof!” he grunted, wings fluttering in a flurry of dust.

Athena, in the heat of the moment, moved to disarm him completely. She grabbed his arm, intending to flip him onto his back, but she overestimated the force. Hermes' eyes widened just before his body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The entire courtyard seemed to freeze.

Tiresias shot to their feet from the bench, the echo of the impact still ringing in the air. "Hermes!" Their voice cracked with worry, already moving before anyone had even processed what had happened.

But Athena was already there, dropping to one knee and pressing a hand to Hermes' shoulder. “Hermes, are you alright?” Her voice was softer than usual, the sharpness replaced with genuine concern.

Hermes winced, blinking rapidly. “I, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…dizzy.” He let out a shaky laugh, but the strain was evident.

Athena’s hands were gentle as she helped him sit up, dusting off his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry,” she murmured, her brows knitting together. “I wasn’t thinking.”

From the sidelines, Tiresias hesitated, hands still clenched, seemingly ready to run over to the messenger to make sure he was alright. Penelope placed a steadying hand on his arm, her own expression tight with worry.

Hermes blinked, looking up at Athena’s worried gaze. “You got me good,” he said, voice softening. “That’s one for the books.”

Athena huffed, relief flooding her expression. “Don’t scare me like that,” she scolded, but her hand stayed firmly on his shoulder.

Apollo stepped closer, his teasing smile replaced with something gentler. “You good, little wing?”

Hermes managed a grin, shaking off the dust. “Takes more than that to take me out. You should know that by now.”

Tiresias exhaled sharply, the tension in their shoulders relaxing only slightly. Penelope squeezed their arm. “He’s alright,” she whispered, her voice soothing. “He’s alright.”

Tiresias gave a nod. “I know. Doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

Hermes rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck as if shaking off the impact. "Alright," he said, dusting himself off. "You two ready to lose? Because I’m back."

Athena raised an eyebrow, hand still hovering just above his shoulder. “Hermes, you just–”

“Just took a quick tumble? I know,” he interrupted with a grin, stumbling slightly as he stepped back. Apollo reached out instinctively, steadying him with a firm grip. Hermes shot him a look, eyes bright and sharp. “I’m good, Pollo. No need to coddle me.” He flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Apollo hesitated, his hand still on Hermes' shoulder. “You sure? That wasn’t exactly a soft landing.”

Hermes scoffed, shrugging him off. “Please, I’ve been thrown off cliffs before. This is nothing.” His wings gave a weak flutter, sending up a small puff of dust. He flexed them again, a little harder, as if testing their strength.

From the sidelines, Tiresias’s hands were still tightly clenched, their eyes fixed on him like he might crumble at any second. Penelope whispered something soft and soothing, but Tiresias only nodded absently, gaze never leaving Hermes.

Hermes stretched, cracking his neck. “So... are we just gonna stand around, or are we sparring?”

Athena glanced at Apollo, brow furrowed. Apollo shrugged. “If he’s asking for it...”

Hermes beamed. “That’s the spirit!” He grabbed his wooden sword from the ground and twirled it, wobbling just slightly before catching his balance. “I believe I was just about to wipe the floor with you two.”

Athena crossed her arms. “You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”

Hermes winked. “I like to keep you guessing.”

Without another word, he lunged forward, catching Apollo off guard. His wooden blade struck Apollo’s side, a sharp crack echoing across the training grounds. Apollo stumbled back, a look of surprise flashing across his face. “Alright,” he said, regaining his stance. “I guess we’re really doing this.”

Athena didn’t need further invitation. She stepped forward, spear angled low, eyes sharp. Hermes braced himself, wings flaring instinctively as she rushed him. He ducked under her swing, catching the edge of her spear with his blade, but his movements were just a bit slower, slightly off balance.

Athena noticed. “Hermes, you’re–”

“Winning? I know!” he laughed, though the sound was just a bit too forced. He swung wide, catching Apollo off guard again, but his landing was unsteady, feet scraping across the dirt before he righted himself.

From the sidelines, Tiresias leaned forward, brows furrowed. “Something’s not right,” they murmured.

Penelope nodded, eyes locked on the fight. “He’s pushing himself too hard.”

Tiresias’s hand curled around the edge of the bench. “I know that tone...”

In the sparring ring, Hermes threw another wild strike, wings fluttering to keep his balance. Athena parried easily, her expression growing more and more concerned. “Hermes, you’re not–”

“I’m fine!” he shouted, voice cracking with stubbornness. He lunged again, and Athena sidestepped, hooking her spear around his ankle and sending him sprawling…again.

He hit the ground hard, and this time he stood more slowly, weakly putting his spear back up. Apollo and Athena both rushed forward, but Hermes waved them off. “I’m good, I’m good.” he huffed.

Apollo took a small step forwards. “Hermes–”

“I’m fine,” Hermes insisted, glaring. “I’m not weak. I don’t need you to coddle me.” He flared his wings, sending him slightly off balance again.

From the sidelines, Tiresias took a half-step forwards, but Penelope’s hand on their arm stopped them. “Wait. Let him decide if he’s done,” she whispered.

Hermes, as if hearing them, raised his sword. “Come on, is that the best you two can do?”

Athena huffed out a sigh, glancing at Apollo. “You’re going to be the death of me, little brother.”

Hermes just laughed, though there was an edge to it. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He climbed to his feet, brushing the dust from his knees. “Come on, Thethe. Another round?”

Apollo straightened, nodding slowly. “If you say so.”

Athena only watched him, her gaze lingering on his wings and the faint tremor in his hands as he gripped his wooden sword.

Hermes straightened his back, brushing the dust from his tunic with a flair that was more bravado than anything else. “Alright!” he called out, voice ringing sharp over the courtyard. “Who’s next?”

Athena hesitated, her eyes darting to Apollo, but it was Telemachus who stepped forward, his wooden sword gripped tightly in both hands. He glanced nervously at Odysseus, who gave him an encouraging nod. “I can take you!” Telemachus announced, his voice bright and confident.

Hermes grinned wide, wings flaring just slightly. “You think so, Little Trickster?” he teased, bouncing lightly on his heels. “Alright, show me what you’ve got!”

Telemachus stepped forward, sword raised high. He lunged, clumsy but enthusiastic. Hermes ducked easily, spinning to the side. “Not bad!” he praised, wings fluttering. “But you’re going to have to be faster than that!”

Telemachus adjusted his grip, brows furrowing in determination. He swung again, this time a little higher. Hermes parried, though his stance wavered just slightly. Athena’s eyes flickered, watching the way Hermes' knees buckled ever so slightly upon impact.

Hermes just grinned, bracing himself. “Come on, Little Trickster! I know you’ve got more than that!”

Telemachus grinned back, excitement building in his expression. “Okay!” he shouted, voice cracking just a bit with enthusiasm. He lunged forward with everything he had, aiming a playful swipe at Hermes' midsection.

The crack of wood against wood was louder than anyone anticipated. Hermes staggered back, wings flaring wildly, and then he crumpled, knees hitting the dirt with a force that made Tiresias flinch from the sidelines.

The courtyard fell silent.

Telemachus’s eyes went wide, and he immediately dropped his sword. “I-I didn’t mean to! I didn’t think I hit that hard!” He scrambled forward, panic written all over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Apollo was there in a second, pulling Telemachus back gently. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, though his eyes were locked on Hermes. “That wasn’t you. That was him being stubborn.”

Athena nodded, already moving to Hermes' side. “He pushed himself too far,” she murmured, brushing the dust from his shoulders. “You did nothing wrong, Little Wolf.”

The boy looked to his father for confirmation, and Odysseus gave him a reassuring nod. “He’s right, son. Hermes isn’t one to back down when he should.” He gave a chuckle, though it was strained. 

Hermes blinked, vision clearing as Athena’s hand cupped his cheek. “Hey,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “You still with me?”

He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “Yeah. Just…taking a breather.” He forced a smile, but it came out weak.

From the sidelines, Tiresias could take no more. He rose to his feet, stepping forward. “Hermes,” they called, voice steady but undeniably firm. “That’s enough.”

Hermes turned his head, blinking the dust from his eyes. “I’m fine, I’m–”

“You’re not,” Tiresias interrupted, stepping closer. Their expression was soft, but unyielding. “And that’s alright. It’s alright to take a break.”

Hermes swallowed, glancing at Telemachus, who still looked on the verge of tears. He waved weakly. “You did good, Little Trickster,” he called, voice warm despite the pain. “I’m just tired.”

Telemachus didn’t look convinced, but Apollo placed a hand on his shoulder. “You did fine. Come on, let’s give him a minute.” He steered the boy back to the sparring ring, and Odysseus followed, casting one last worried glance at Hermes.

Tiresias held out a hand, and Hermes stared at it for a moment before he sighed and took it. “Just for a minute,” he murmured, though his wings fluttered pitifully as he got to his feet.

“Just for a minute,” Tiresias agreed, slipping an arm around his waist to help him walk. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Penelope was already waiting at the bench, a gentle smile on her face. “I saved you a spot,” she said softly, patting the wooden slats.

Hermes leaned back against the bench, his eyes fluttering shut as Tiresias continued brushing dust from his wings. Their hands were steady and practiced, fingers running through the delicate feathers with a familiarity that spoke of countless times before. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding with each gentle pass.

“Did you get thrown into the ground or the entire Underworld?” Tiresias murmured, voice laced with fondness as they flicked away a bit of stubborn dirt near the edge of Hermes' left wing.

Hermes chuckled, wings fluttering just slightly under their touch. “I think it was both, honestly.” He tilted his head back, eyes drifting open just enough to watch Odysseus and Telemachus rejoin the sparring ring. “He’s getting good,” he commented, nodding towards Telemachus as he lunged at Apollo, forcing the god to backstep with a grin.

Tiresias hummed in agreement, his hands working gently along the fine feathers at the tips of Hermes' wings. “He learns fast. He’s got a lot of good teachers.” Their fingers moved deftly through his head wing, fingertips careful as they straightened out the slightly ruffled ends of the feathers, smoothing each one back into place.

Hermes smiled at that, leaning into their touch. “I had good practice.” His eyes flickered to Penelope, who was watching the careful movements with clear fascination. She seemed to realize she was staring and gave a small, sheepish laugh.

“Would you like to join?” Tiresias asked, their voice soft and inviting.

Penelope blinked. “Oh! I-I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’s alright,” Hermes cut in, offering her a smile. “I don’t bite…much.” His wings gave a playful flutter, sending a tiny puff of dust into the air.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “Alright then.” She moved forward, perching on the edge of the bench beside Tiresias. “Just like this?” she asked, gesturing to Tiresias’s gentle movements.

Hermes nodded. “Exactly. Just careful with the edges, they’re the most sensitive.” Tiresias gave Hermes' wing a gentle brush for emphasis, and he made a soft sound of contentment, wings shivering under their touch.

Penelope followed suit, her hands a bit more tentative, but soon she found a rhythm, gently brushing the dust from the feathers on his head wings, her touch featherlight. “Like this?” she asked, her voice hushed as if not to disturb the peace of the moment.

Hermes' eyes fluttered shut again, and he smiled. “Perfect.”

They worked in quiet concentration, Penelope brushing through the downy feathers of his right wing, smoothing out the delicate plumes, while Tiresias continued to work on the left.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen wings quite like yours,” Penelope murmured after a while, her fingers carefully tucking a stray feather back into place. “They’re so soft.”

Hermes chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t seen them during a storm. They turn into a frizzy mess.”

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “I highly doubt that.” She paused, her touch gentle. “They’re beautiful, Hermes. I’m honored you let me help with them.”

Hermes' smile softened, his eyes still shut. “You’re welcome any time, Lady Penelope.”

Tiresias’s hands moved steadily down to his ankle wings, gently smoothing out the small feathers there. Hermes shivered slightly under the touch, his wings giving a soft flutter. “You alright?” they asked gently.

Hermes nodded, the tension in his shoulders melting further. “Yeah just feels nice. Those ones always get itchy fast.” His voice was soft, almost wistful.

There was a moment of companionable silence, just the soft sounds of feathers rustling and the distant laughter of Odysseus and Telemachus sparring with Apollo and Athena. It felt safe.

Finally, Hermes' voice broke the quiet, softer now. “It’s nice having her back.”

Tiresias paused, his hands gentle against the pinions. “Athena?” they asked.

Hermes nodded, wings fluttering slightly under Penelope’s careful touch. “Yeah. I didn’t realize how much I missed her until she was here again.” His voice was wistful, threaded with something fragile. “We used to spar like this all the time. She’d always win, but I liked it anyway.”

Penelope smiled, her hands still smoothing down the last feather. “You should tell her.”

Hermes' eyes widened. “Tell her? No, I don’t–”

Tiresias laughed softly, brushing the last bit of dust from his ankle wings. “You should,” they echoed. “She’d want to know.” 

Hermes smiled. “Maybe I will.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “I didn’t think she’d come back. Not after everything.”

Tiresias’s hand paused, resting lightly on his wing. “But she did,” they murmured, voice soft and sure. “And I don’t think she’s leaving this time.”

Hermes' eyes flickered open, glancing at the sparring ring where Athena laughed, the sound sharp and bright as she parried Odysseus’s sword. His smile was small, but genuine. “I hope you’re right.”

Notes:

So this was supposed to go out on Monday…but I forgot. And then again yesterday…but I had horrible migraines. So instead you get two uploads today! Woo! …oops

As always, hope you enjoyed. Take care of yourselves my friends. Eat, sleep, drink water. Take you meds if you have you.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 46

Summary:

Tensions are raising. Zeus does some reflecting. Good lord…everyone needs to do some deep breathing.

The laughter from the sparring grounds had quieted to a soft hum, Odysseus and Telemachus still catching their breath from the exertion. Apollo stood with his hands on his hips, a fine layer of dust clinging to his golden hair, while Athena leaned casually on her spear, her gaze flickering between the horizon and the courtyard.

Hermes sat up a little straighter, his wings now clean and preened, thanks to Tiresias and Penelope’s gentle care. He rubbed at his shoulders, stretching his neck with a faint groan of satisfaction. “Looks like you two survived the onslaught,” he called out, voice carrying easily across the courtyard.

Apollo grinned back. “Barely. I think I’m going to be feeling this for days.” His smile faded just a bit, and he glanced toward Athena. “We should probably get going,” he said softly, voice low enough that only she could hear.

Athena’s gaze hardened, her grip tightening on the shaft of her spear. “I know.” She took a breath, then glanced back toward Hermes, her expression softening. “I have things to tend to,” she said, voice carefully even. “But I’ll be back when I can. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes flickered toward Tiresias and Penelope, then back to Hermes. “Not again.”

Hermes blinked, surprised by the gentleness in her voice. “You…you promise?”

Athena’s lips quirked up, just the faintest bit. “Since when have I ever broken a promise to you?” she asked, her voice steady but warm.

Hermes' smile grew. “Alright, Thethe. I’ll hold you to that.”

Athena stepped forward, her hand reaching out to clasp his shoulder. “Get stronger,” she said softly. “You’re getting there. I can see it.” Hermes shrugged off her hand and pulled the goddess into a hug. She stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. Holding him close. 

Hermes' eyes softened, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder,” she shot back, but there was no sharpness in it, just affection. Apollo’s arms wrapped around Hermes and Athena, and the messenger immediately relaxed further, surrounded by the arms of his siblings.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming back.” Both sets of arms tightened around him.

“Of course, little brother,” Apollo murmured.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Athena whispered. Hermes squeezed her.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here now.” He said. They stepped apart, and Athena turned to Apollo. 

“Ready?”

Apollo nodded. “I’ll be back soon. Just have to take care of a few things,” he said to his brother.

Hermes nodded. “I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Apollo smiled, his eyes bright and warm. “I know you’re not.” He gave Hermes a playful nudge. “Try not to get yourself killed while I’m gone, yeah?”

Hermes rolled his eyes. “I make no promises.”

Apollo laughed, and with one last squeeze of Hermes' shoulder, he stepped back to join Athena. Together, they walked to the edge of the courtyard, pausing just before they vanished from view. Athena glanced back one last time, her expression guarded but soft. “I’ll be back,” she said, and then they were gone, the air shimmering faintly in their wake.

Silence settled over the training grounds, broken only by the soft murmur of wind through the grass.

~~~~

The throne room was cold on Olympus. The great marble pillars stretched high above, casting long shadows that sprawled across the floor, stark and unyielding. No laughter flitted about outside, no soft flutter of wingbeats echoed, no trickster around, flitting through the halls with a grin and a wink.

Zeus sighed.

Maybe he had been too harsh. He missed the silly god. He missed the chaos, the constant movement, the lightness Hermes brought to even the heaviest of days.

“No,” he growled. “Rules are rules. I can’t make exceptions for one god, I’d have to make exceptions for all the others.” He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

He is not my son!

His own words rang through his head and the great king of the gods flinched. The sound of it in his own ears was worse than the whispers that floated through the marble halls. He knew what they were saying. He knew how Olympus ached with absence. How the air felt heavier, like something crucial had been torn from it.

“He will be my son again, once his punishment is over. Until then, he can’t be.” He tried to reason with himself.

He could hear the hushed whispers outside in the hall. Criticizing his decision. Olympus missed Hermes. He missed Hermes.

Zeus shook his head, standing up.

“I am the Almighty Zeus. My word is law. This punishment is for his own good.” He told himself. And that was that. Zeus believed it.

His gaze dropped to the small, ornate box tucked beneath the throne. He knelt slowly, the great King of Olympus, hands brushing reverently over the lid. He hesitated, just for a moment, before pulling it open.

Inside lay the remnants of what once made Hermes Hermes. His messenger bag, the leather still soft and pliable. His caduceus, gleaming faintly even in the low light. His hat, folded neatly, tucked beside his ornate sandals. Zeus stared at them for a long moment, his eyes distant, his breath slow and even.

“I just hope he’ll understand,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. “I hope he’ll understand that what I’m doing is for his own good. For everyone’s good. One example so that no one falls to this punishment again.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, Zeus closed the box, the lid snapping shut with a finality that echoed off the marble walls. Darkness swallowed it whole, taking with it the last tangible traces of the Messenger of the Gods.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

~~~~

The light shimmered around the two gods as they stepped out of the fold of space, the warmth of Ithaca fading into the familiar chill of Olympus. The stone columns rose tall and unyielding, their shadows stretching long across the marble floor. Apollo released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his hands dropping to his sides.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of what they’d just left behind.

Apollo was the first to break it. “I hope you thought this through.” His voice was softer than usual, his eyes sharp and steady. “I’m not trying to convince you to leave, but this is a big risk you’ve taken.”

Athena turned to him, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “I know.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “You know? That’s it?”

Athena’s gaze flickered, just slightly, before she straightened her shoulders. “Yes. I know what I’m risking. I know who I’m going up against. I know exactly what it means.”

Apollo’s expression softened, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “I hope you’re sure,” he murmured, and there was an edge of something fragile in his tone. “Because if you change your mind and leave again,” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “I don’t know if Hermes could handle that.”

The words hung between them, heavy and unyielding. Athena’s eyes narrowed, her jaw setting tight. “I won’t,” she replied, the firmness in her voice almost brittle. “I made my choice.”

Apollo studied her, his gaze steady and unblinking. “Good,” he said finally. “Because it’s not just you who’d lose him this time.” His voice softened. “We all would.”

Athena’s grip on her spear tightened, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I won’t run,” she repeated, softer now, but resolute. “Not again.”

Apollo stared at her for a long moment before he gave a small nod. “Alright,” he whispered. “Good.”

Silence fell between them again, heavier than before. But this time, it felt like something had settled, some unspoken promise woven between them.

Without another word, Athena turned and strode down the hall, her footsteps steady and even. Apollo watched her go, his hands still resting by his sides. “I hope you mean it,” he whispered to the empty space she left behind.

The silence of Olympus swallowed his words whole.

~~~~

The sun had dipped low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The echo of sparring still lingered in the air, but the grounds had quieted, the hum of excitement giving way to the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of waves. Odysseus, Telemachus, and Penelope had left, returning to their life in the castle.

Hermes sat at the edge of the bench, his small wings fluttering absently, stirring the dust at his feet. Tiresias sat beside him, their posture relaxed but attentive, head tilted slightly as if listening to the way the courtyard settled around them.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tiresias murmured, their voice gentle but probing.

Hermes blinked, glancing over. “Hmm? Oh…just thinking.” His hands fiddled with a loose thread on his tunic, eyes fixed somewhere distant.

Tiresias turned their head slightly in his direction, their expression soft but attentive. “Want to tell me about it?”

Hermes hesitated, his fingers pausing their fidgeting. 

Tiresais sighed fondly. “Come on, sweet bird. Let’s go for a walk. You can tell me about it while we walk.” He stood, extending a hand to the messenger. Hermes didn’t hesitate, letting Tiresias pull him to his feet, letting the prophet’s hand ground him.

For a moment, the only sound between them was the soft whisper of the breeze threading through the olive trees and their soft steps. Finally, Hermes spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if she’s coming back.”

Tiresias didn’t speak, giving Hermes time to formulate what he wanted to say.

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering again, brushing against Tiresias’s calves. “Athena. I…I want to believe she meant it. That she’s back for good this time.” His eyes fell to his hands, fingers tightening around Tiresias’s hand. “But I don’t…I don’t know.”

Tiresias stopped walking and gently turned his love to face them. Their grip was warm and steady. “She said she’d come back.”

Hermes let out a breathy laugh, hollow and thin. “Yeah…yeah, she did.” He paused, the words catching in his throat before they spilled out. “But she’s said a lot of things before.”

The wind sighed through the leaves, the faint rustle brushing against their silence. Tiresias’s hands stayed firm. 

“What makes you think she won’t be back, little bird?” They asked softly. Hermes sighed.

“My–Her father.” He corrected himself. “Zeus has struck fear in their hearts. All of my siblings. Any god who heard about my punishment. They all fear him. And I fear for them. Every time Apollo comes to visit, I worry about what he’ll do to my brother. Now I worry what will happen to Thena.” Hermes shuddered. “What he may say to her. To either of them.”

“And Apollo?” Tiresias asked gently. “You think he won’t come back either?”

Hermes' eyes flickered, wings twitching at his ankles. “I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice trembling just a bit. “He always does, but I always worry.” His wings fluttered. “Zeus is angry. I could see it. And I-I know he doesn’t like us being together. What if he…?” Hermes swallowed hard, the words crumbling before they fully formed.

Tiresias’s fingers tightened just slightly, grounding him back to the moment. “Apollo loves you,” he said, voice steady. “I’ve heard it in every word he’s ever spoken about you. That doesn’t just disappear.”

Hermes' gaze dropped, his wings shivering slightly. “It could,” he said softly. “If Zeus wanted it to, it could.”

“No, my love. Your brother loves you far too much. And Athena, I think you’ll find she feels the same.” Silence settled between them, heavy but not suffocating. Tiresias’s hand never moved, staying steady, tethering Hermes to the present. “You’re not alone, Hermes,” they whispered, voice like a balm. “Even if it feels like you are.”

Hermes let out a shaky breath, wings fluttering just a bit more. “I’m trying not to be scared,” he admitted, voice breaking just a little. “But I don’t know if I’m enough. I don’t know if I’m worth the risk to keep them coming back.”

Tiresias shifted, their hand moving up to cup his shoulder, fingers firm but gentle. “You are enough, you know why?” He asked, voice soft but unyielding. “They’re your family. That doesn’t change just because they aren’t here.”

“Family,” Hermes echoed softly.

~~~~

The halls of Olympus stretched wide and silent, the polished marble reflecting the glow of flickering torches that lined the walls. The air was thick, heavy with the kind of silence that pressed down like a hand to the chest.

Apollo walked with measured steps, his gaze forward, shoulders squared. His golden hair caught the light as he moved, and for a moment, the echo of his footsteps was the only sound in the corridor.

Until it wasn’t.

A flicker of shadows across the marble floor. The weight of presence settling like a storm cloud.

Apollo’s stride faltered, just barely. He straightened almost immediately, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. He did not turn. He did not have to.

The footsteps grew louder, deliberate and heavy, each one like a drumbeat against the silence. Zeus came into view, his gaze fixed forward, expression carved from stone. His steps did not waver, his path unyielding.

Neither did Apollo’s.

The space between them grew smaller with every step, a tension winding tighter and tighter, coiling like a serpent ready to strike. Apollo kept his eyes forward, his jaw clenched just so, the rhythm of his heart a steady pulse in his ears.

And then, they were passing one another. Apollo did not falter. He did not flinch. His gaze remained forward, his shoulders squared.

But Zeus slowed. His eyes flickered, just slightly, casting a shadow of a glance in Apollo’s direction. His jaw tightened, but he did not speak.

Neither did Apollo.

They passed like ships in the night, heavy and thunderous, but silent. The air crackled with the weight of what was unspoken, the whispers of what might have been said.

But neither turned back. Zeus continued on his path, his footsteps echoing long after he had gone. Apollo’s stride did not waver, not until the corridor stretched empty behind him.

Only then did he exhale, his shoulders loosening just a fraction, his gaze dropping to the polished marble at his feet. His hand drifted to the edge of his thumbnail, fingers pressing to the soft skin there before he stopped himself, taking another breath to steady.

The silence returned, heavy and unyielding.

~~~~

The grand hall stretched long and endless before her, towering pillars casting elongated shadows that whispered with every step. Athena kept her stride even, her gaze forward, hands folded neatly behind her back. Each step echoed, soft but unyielding, her mind rehearsing the lines she would speak, the mask she would wear.

She could feel it, the ripple of energy before he even came into view. The room stilled, the very air holding its breath as Zeus stepped into the room, his eyes sharp and unblinking.

“Athena.” His voice cracked like thunder, low and commanding.

Athena stopped, turning with precision, her gaze steady as it landed on him. “Father,” she greeted, her voice as even and composed as the marble beneath her feet.

Zeus regarded her with the kind of scrutiny reserved for chess pieces and warriors alike. “You’ve been away,” he noted, voice measured. “Longer than usual.”

Athena’s jaw tightened just slightly, but she inclined her head. “Training,” she replied smoothly. “Keeping my skills sharp. You taught me the importance of vigilance.” Her eyes remained locked on his, unblinking, unyielding.

Zeus nodded, the tension in his shoulders slackening just slightly. “Good. It would do well for the others to follow your example.” He took a step closer, the weight of his presence pressing against her resolve. “Your brother could stand to learn a thing or two about discipline.”

Athena held her ground. “Which brother?” she asked, her voice crisp and edged with something faintly dangerous.

Zeus’s gaze darkened, the flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes. “The one that believes defying me is wise. The one who thinks he can keep shining without consequence.” His voice was a rumble, heavy and unforgiving.

Athena’s spine stiffened, just barely, the movement so slight it might have been imagined. But Zeus’s eyes were sharp, his gaze settling on her with the weight of a thousand storms. “Apollo?” she asked, her voice steady, too steady.

Zeus didn’t blink. “He’s grown reckless. Too bold.” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps he has forgotten who he owes his loyalty to.”

Athena’s grip behind her back tightened, her knuckles whitening beneath the leather of her gloves. “I’m sure he remembers,” she replied, the words slipping from her tongue like glass, sharp, clean, and unyielding.

Zeus’s gaze lingered, as if searching for cracks, for hairline fractures in her resolve. Athena’s mask held. “Good.” His voice softened, though it did not lose its edge. “I’d hate to think I’m raising defiance in my own halls.”

Athena inclined her head, the movement as fluid as it was calculated. “Of course not.” The lie slipped from her tongue with the grace of a practiced diplomat. “We all know better than that.”

For a moment, the silence stretched thin, taut like a bowstring. Then Zeus nodded, the tension in his shoulders unwinding just enough. “I expect nothing less from you.”

Athena didn’t falter. “You never have to,” she replied, voice smooth as silk.

Zeus watched her for a moment longer, then turned his gaze back to the vast expanse of Olympus stretching beyond the throne room. “Go on, Daughter. Tend to your duties.” His tone was final, dismissive.

Athena bowed slightly, turning with military precision. She took three steps before her shoulders loosened, her breath slipping past her lips in the faintest exhale. Her grip on her spear was white-knuckled, but her stride did not waver. Not until she turned the corner and the shadows swallowed her whole.

Only then did she lean against the cool stone wall, eyes closing for just a moment. Her hand brushed over her chestplate, over the space just above her heart. She took one long, steadying breath.

“Not today,” she whispered to herself. “Not today.”

The silence of Olympus stretched long and unyielding, but Athena’s footsteps were softer now, calculated, precise, and unfaltering.

~~~~

The training grounds of Olympus were eerily silent, the sky above streaked with the dying light of evening. The usual clang of swords and the shouts of warriors were absent, leaving only the whisper of the wind and the sharp crack of wood against stone.

Athena’s breath came in ragged bursts, sweat slicking her brow as she swung her spear in a precise, ruthless arc. The wooden target splintered beneath the blow, shards scattering across the marble floor. She did not pause. Her muscles burned with the effort, her hands steady as she moved through the motions, faster, harder, her form growing more frenzied with each strike.

Crack.

Splinter.

Crack.

Her breath came faster, each swing harder than the last, her teeth bared in concentration. She didn’t hear the footsteps behind her, didn’t register the shadow that settled against the archway.

“Your form is slipping,” came the voice, smooth and casual.

Athena spun, her spear cutting through the air with deadly precision, stopping mere inches from Ares' throat. His expression didn’t change, though his eyes flickered with something almost amused. “Not bad,” he commented, glancing down at the tip of her weapon. “Would’ve been better if it didn’t waver on the turn.”

Athena’s shoulders heaved with the weight of her breaths, her eyes sharp and glittering with something unspoken. For a moment, neither moved. Ares raised an eyebrow. “Going to stab me, Thena? Or were you just practicing?”

Athena’s grip slackened, just slightly. She pulled the spear back, straightening her stance with military precision. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” she replied coolly, though the edge in her voice had not dulled.

Ares chuckled, pushing off from the stone wall. “Hardly sneaking. You were just too focused to notice.” He tilted his head, studying her with a gaze that saw too much. “You’re slipping.”

Athena’s jaw clenched. “I am not.”

“Mm.” Ares stepped forward, his eyes drifting to the splintered wood scattered at her feet. “I’ve seen you tear down a battalion without breaking a sweat. That?” He nodded toward the remains of the target. “That looked like you were fighting more than just a piece of wood.”

Athena didn’t respond. Her hands were steady, but her breathing had not yet returned to its normal rhythm. Ares watched her for a moment longer before settling down on the edge of the stone platform, stretching out his legs with a sigh. He patted the space beside him. “Sit,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “You look like you might pass out.”

Athena hesitated, her eyes flickering to him and then back to the shattered target. Finally, she moved, settling down next to him, her spear resting against her knees.

For a while, neither spoke. The wind whispered between the columns, the silence stretching long and unbroken.

Finally, Ares broke it. “You gonna tell me what’s got you swinging like a mortal with a grudge?”

Athena’s gaze remained forward, her jaw tense. “I saw him today.”

Ares didn’t move, but his eyes flickered, sharp and alert. “You went to him?”

“Yes.” The word was steady, but her hands tightened around the shaft of her spear. “I did.”

Ares watched her for a long moment, his eyes softened just slightly. “I’m sure he was happy to see you,” he said quietly. His voice held none of its usual edge, no trace of mockery or bite. Just a simple, honest truth. “I wish I had your bravery, Thena.”

Athena’s breath caught, just for a moment. She turned to look at him fully, her eyes searching. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

Ares' gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the stone. “You’re wrong,” he replied softly. “I’m afraid of plenty.” He met her gaze, and there was something vulnerable there, something raw. “But you…you walked right up to him. Like it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” Athena murmured, her voice just above a whisper. “It was everything.”

Ares nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “I think he needed it,” he said after a pause. “And I think you did too.”

Athena stared at him for a long moment, the tension in her shoulders finally uncoiling, just slightly. “Maybe I did.”

Ares was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed on the ground. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe one day I’ll have a bit of your bravery. Maybe one day, I’ll convince myself to go see the little troublemaker.”

Athena blinked, surprise flitting across her expression before it softened. Her grip on the spear loosened, and she reached out, placing her hand over his. “It would mean the world to him.”

Ares' gaze flicked up, eyes searching hers. For once, there was no edge of violence or mockery, just something fragile and unspoken. He swallowed, nodding once. “Maybe one day,” he repeated.

The silence stretched long between them, but it was softer now, almost peaceful. Athena squeezed his hand gently before letting go, leaning back against the stone. “When you’re ready,” she said simply.

Ares leaned back on his hands, the corners of his mouth quirking up just a bit. “Well, if you ever want a sparring partner that’s not made of splinters, you know where to find me.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Ares nodded again, his gaze dropping back to the ground, and for the first time in a long while, the two of them sat in silence, neither feeling the need to fill it.

Notes:

Hehehehehehe. Zeus misses him. Crazy. Should have thought about that earlier huh. Well, hopefully he grows up soon.

As always, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 47

Summary:

BRACE FOR A STORM!

The morning sun spilled golden light across the courtyard, filtering through the arches and casting delicate patterns on the stone floor. Hermes sat at the breakfast table, his wings fluttering gently as he picked at a loaf of bread, his gaze distant but soft.

Apollo, having returned overnight, leaned back in his chair, his golden hair catching the sunlight, fingers tapping idly against the rim of his glass. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” he noted, his voice smooth and warm. “Something on your mind?”

Hermes blinked, glancing up. “Just thinking,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. He tore off another piece of bread, his gaze flickering to Tiresias, who sat across from him, hands gently folded in their lap. “I was thinking of taking Tiresias to the springs later,” he continued. “The ones near the palace. Figured it might be nice to just relax for a bit.”

Tiresias’s head tilted slightly, their expression softening. “The springs?” He asked, voice curious.

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering. “Yeah, there’s this little path that leads to a secluded spot, hot water, soft stone. It’s perfect. I think you’d like it.”

Tiresias’s smile was gentle. “I trust your judgment.”

Apollo chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. “Look at you, playing tour guide,” he teased, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “I guess you’ve gone soft.”

Hermes rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I just appreciate good company. That’s why you’re not invited.” He leaned back in his chair, wings giving a petulant flutter. “Besides, it’ll be nice to do something without you throwing me into the dirt.”

Apollo grinned widely. “You make it too easy."

The table fell into a comfortable silence, the soft clatter of silverware filling the space. After a moment, Apollo spoke again, his voice softer this time. “Do you remember that time we all went out to the fields? The whole lot of us?”

Hermes paused, his gaze drifting off. “Ares almost broke Artemis’s bow,” he murmured, a smile creeping onto his lips.

Apollo laughed, the sound bright and warm. “He did! She chased him halfway across the hillside, screaming the entire way.” He shook his head, eyes bright with memory. “And Hephaestus tried to fix it, but somehow managed to turn it backwards.”

Hermes snorted. “And Dionysus poured wine over the whole thing, insisting it was ‘div-wine’ intervention.”

Apollo’s eyes glittered with nostalgia. “Aphrodite couldn’t stop laughing. She had to sit down, remember? Nearly fell over.”

Hermes' smile softened. “Athena tried to organize us. Make us all sit in a circle and ‘talk strategy,’” he mimicked, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone.

Apollo shook his head, chuckling. “It was chaos. Absolute chaos.” His gaze dropped slightly, a flicker of something wistful passing through his eyes. “It was good, though.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, stirring a faint breeze. “It was,” he agreed quietly. “I wish…I wish there had been more of that.” His voice softened, his gaze dropping to his hands. “We were always running. Delivering messages, tending to our temples…We never really got the time.”

Apollo’s expression sobered, his hand reaching out to rest on Hermes' arm. “We still can,” he said softly. “Little by little, we’re getting that time back.”

Hermes looked up, his eyes bright and shining with something fragile. “I hope so.”

Apollo gave his arm a gentle squeeze, his smile genuine. “I know so.” He leaned back, stretching his legs out. “And it starts with you taking Tiresias to the springs. No running. No rushing. Just enjoying your time.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings fluttering in agreement. “Yeah. Just time.” He looked over at Tiresias, his smile softening. “You up for a little adventure?”

Tiresias tilted their head, the faintest smile playing at their lips. “Always.”

Hermes' wings gave a small flutter, the sunlight catching on the edges of his feathers. “Perfect. Let’s finish up here, and I’ll show you one of my favorite places in all of Ithaca.”

Apollo watched them with a smile, his gaze lingering a moment longer. “You two go have your fun. I’ll hold down the fort here.” He leaned back, hands behind his head. “Besides, I’ve got to get the dust out of my hair from yesterday’s massacre.”

The morning had dawned bright and clear, sunlight spilling across the courtyard with the promise of a warm, perfect day. Hermes had been practically buzzing with excitement, wings fluttering with anticipation as he and Tiresias prepared for their trip to the springs. The messenger had spent the morning regaling Tiresias with tales of the clear waters and warm stones, his voice light and happy.

But as the morning wore on, clouds began to gather on the horizon, thick and dark, creeping in slow and unyielding. The sunlight dimmed, shadows stretching long and heavy across the courtyard. Hermes’ wings twitched, his gaze flickering up to the sky. “That’s…that’s odd,” he murmured.

Apollo looked up as well, his eyes narrowing. “Did you expect this?” he asked, glancing back at Hermes.

Hermes shook his head slowly. “No. I didn’t.” His wings fluttered, brushing against Tiresias’s shoulder. “I…I didn’t see it coming.”

The clouds grew darker, rolling in heavy waves across the sky, blotting out the light. Tiresias’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “It’s just a storm,” they said, their voice soft and grounding.

Hermes swallowed, nodding slowly. “Right. Just a storm.” He glanced back up, his wings twitching again. “It’s just a storm.”

The first rumble of thunder rolled across the hills, low and ominous, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Hermes stiffened, his wings flaring instinctively, brushing against Tiresias. His breath caught, eyes snapping to the sky. “That was…loud,” he whispered, voice shaking.

Apollo’s shoulders were rigid, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s…it’s just thunder,” he murmured, almost like he was convincing himself. But his hands were shaking, fingers pressed together tightly, nails digging into his palms.

Hermes tried to breathe, tried to focus on the way Tiresias’s hand was still warm and steady against his own. But then another crack of thunder split the sky, sharp and biting, and Hermes flinched so violently his wings snapped open, feathers scattering across the courtyard. “No–no, no,” he breathed, shaking his head. “I didn’t–It’s just a storm. It’s just a storm.”

Apollo’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes locked on the blackening clouds. “We should go inside,” he whispered, voice strangled. He took a step back, then another, his gaze still fixed upwards. “We should go.”

Hermes' wings flared and flapped weakly, his body instinctively curling inward as another clap of thunder crashed through the air. His knees nearly buckled, hands shooting out to catch Tiresias, gripping them with desperate strength. “We should–” His breath hitched. “We should–”

“It’s okay,” Tiresias soothed, wrapping their arms around him, holding him close. “It’s just a storm, Hermes. Just a storm.”

But Hermes shook his head, his wings shivering violently. “No, it’s–It’s not. It’s not, I-I,” His voice cracked, and he ducked his head instinctively, pressing closer to Tiresias, as if waiting for something more, something worse. His wings trembled, shivering down to the very tips. “I can’t–I can’t–”

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, sharp and white-hot, so bright it seared across their vision. Hermes cried out, hands flying to his head as his wings flared wildly. “No!” he gasped, stumbling back, nearly collapsing against Tiresias. “No, no, please! not again!”

The flash was followed immediately by a clap of thunder, so loud it shook the very ground beneath them. Apollo’s eyes squeezed shut, hands covering his ears as he fell to his knees, breath ragged and shallow. His fingers curled into his hair, and he rocked back and forth, lips moving but no sound coming out.

Penelope burst through the doors, eyes wide with concern. “Inside! All of you, come inside!” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of panic. “Quickly now!”

Hermes flinched, wings flaring out instinctively. He moved without thinking, Tiresias’s hand still in his, practically dragging them towards the doorway. Apollo followed, hands still pressed to his ears, eyes wild and unfocused.

The sky rumbled again, louder, sharper. Hermes flinched, his wings curling inward. He stumbled forward, breathing ragged, barely registering the way Tiresias’s grip remained strong and steady. “Inside,” Hermes whispered, his voice broken and fragile. “We have to go inside.”

Penelope stood by the door, ushering them in with firm hands. “Quickly now, don’t dawdle,” she urged, her voice gentle but commanding.

Hermes nearly fell through the doorway, wings brushing against the stone as he stumbled inside. Apollo followed a moment later, his eyes still wide, his hands trembling. The moment the door shut behind them, the sound of rain pounding against the roof filled the silence, steady and relentless.

Hermes crumpled to the floor, his wings shaking uncontrollably. Tiresias knelt beside him, gently picking him up. Hermes instantly curled into his arms. “You’re alright,” they whispered, voice soft and unyielding. “Let’s get you somewhere warm.”

Penelope gently wrapped an arm around Apollo, guiding him slowly to the parlor, Tiresias following behind, Hermes still pressed into his chest. Tiresias gently sat Hermes and himself down into a soft chair, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the trembling god.

Apollo staggered back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting, knees pulled up to his chest. His hands were still pressed to his ears, his breath coming in shallow bursts. “It’s just rain,” he murmured, voice thin and cracking. “It’s just…just rain.”

Penelope was there in an instant, settling down beside him, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. “You’re safe,” she soothed. “You’re inside, you’re safe. Nothing can hurt you here.”

Apollo’s eyes squeezed shut, a shudder running through him. Hermes' breathing was ragged, his wings shivering with every clap of thunder that shook the walls. He curled closer to Tiresias, their hands steady on his back, whispering soft reassurances that grounded him little by little.

The rain pounded harder, and another flash of lightning lit up the room from the window, casting jagged shadows that made Hermes flinch again. Tiresias’s hand remained steady. “I’m here,” he murmured to Hermes, voice strong and steady. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

The rain drummed against the roof in a steady, unyielding rhythm, the wind howling faintly through the cracks in the stone walls. The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the room, softening the harshness of the storm outside.

Apollo’s breathing evened out first, his hands slowly falling from his ears, palms pressing flat against the cool stone floor as if grounding himself back to reality. He blinked, the haze of panic lifting just slightly as Penelope rubbed soothing circles into his back. “It’s just rain,” he murmured again, voice steadier now. “Just…rain.”

Penelope nodded encouragingly. “That’s right. Just rain.” Her voice was soft and steady, her hand never faltering. “You’re safe here, Apollo. You’re both safe.”

Apollo nodded, breathing deep and steady, his hands curling into fists and releasing in a rhythmic pattern. His shoulders loosened, just a bit, the tension easing from his jaw. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering over to where Hermes sat, still curled tightly into Tiresias’s chest.

Hermes hadn’t moved. His wings were wrapped tightly around his legs, feathers quivering with every roll of thunder. His hands were fisted in Tiresias’s robes, knuckles white, his eyes squeezed shut. His breath came in shallow bursts, his shoulders hunched forward as if bracing for a blow.

Tiresias’s hands moved gently, one running down Hermes' back in slow, grounding strokes, the other resting lightly on his head. “You’re alright,” they whispered, voice soft and unyielding. “You’re alright, sweet bird.”

Hermes flinched when another crack of thunder split the air, wings flaring out slightly before flattening again, tips pointed straight down, trembling. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m–I’m trying, I–” His breath hitched. “I’m trying to–”

“You’re doing just fine,” Tiresias soothed, his hand moving in gentle circles against Hermes’ back. “You’re doing just fine, Hermes. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

Apollo watched, eyes softening with understanding. He scooted closer, settling down next to Hermes, his presence warm and steady. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his hand settling on Hermes' shoulder. “You’re okay. You hear me? You’re okay.”

Hermes trembled under his touch, wings twitching slightly. “I’m trying,” he repeated, voice thin and cracking. “I’m trying not to be scared.”

Apollo’s hand squeezed gently. “I know you are. And it’s okay. I’m right here.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “He can’t touch us here, Hermes. You’re safe.”

Hermes sucked in a breath, shaky and uneven. He blinked, eyes flickering open just enough to take in the warm glow of the fire, the way Tiresias’s hands never stopped their gentle, grounding rhythm, and the steady weight of Apollo’s hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “Yeah,” he breathed, though his wings still trembled. “Okay. Yeah.”

The door opened, and Odysseus stepped in, his expression warm and gentle. “I thought I might find you all here,” he said, voice softening when he saw Hermes still huddled into Tiresias. “The storm’s not letting up, I’m afraid. But I brought something that might help.”

In his hands were some thick, woven blankets, the colors deep and rich, embroidered with intricate patterns. He handed one to Apollo and then stepped forward, kneeling beside Hermes and Tiresias. “May I?” he asked gently.

Hermes blinked, eyes flickering to the blanket, then back to Odysseus. He nodded, just barely, his wings giving a faint shiver. Odysseus smiled, unfolding the blanket with practiced ease, draping it gently around Hermes' shoulders, tucking it in carefully around him and Tiresias. “There you go,” he murmured, voice soothing. “A little warmth never hurt.”

Hermes curled into the fabric instinctively, the soft weight of it grounding him further. He nodded again, voice still small. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Odysseus smiled, his hand resting gently on Hermes' shoulder for a moment before he stood, moving to the hearth to stoke the fire. “How about some tea?” he called back over his shoulder. “I think a bit of warmth might do us all some good.”

Penelope straightened up, her eyes lighting with approval. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she agreed. “I’ll get the water boiling.” She glanced back at Apollo and Hermes, her eyes soft. “And I think we might have some fresh bread left from this morning.”

Apollo’s eyes flickered, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “That sounds…nice,” he murmured, voice still a bit raw, but steady.

Hermes' wings twitched atop his head, his hands still gripping Tiresias’s robes tightly. He glanced up at Tiresias, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Are…are we staying here?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Tiresias’s hand did not falter. “Yes, sweet bird,” they murmured, voice warm and sure. “We’re staying right here.”

Hermes nodded, exhaling slowly. He leaned back into Tiresias’s touch, his wings still shivering, but the tension in his shoulders had lessened, just slightly. He let his head rest on Tiresias’s shoulder, the rhythm of the prophet’s breath steadying his own.

Apollo’s hand remained on his shoulder, a tether of warmth and safety. “We’re staying right here,” he repeated, his voice soft but firm. “All of us.”

The storm raged on, unrelenting and heavy, the rain hammering against the roof in sheets, wind howling through the cracks with an eerie whisper. Hermes hadn’t moved from his spot beside Tiresias, his small wings shivering beneath the blanket Odysseus had wrapped around him. Apollo sat close, legs drawn up, his gaze fixed firmly on the flickering flames of the hearth, as if grounding himself in their warmth.

The tension hung thick in the room, palpable and heavy, broken only by the soft murmurs of reassurance from Tiresias and the gentle clatter of Penelope preparing tea in the adjoining room.

Then, the door swung open with a rush of cool air, and Telemachus burst in, cheeks flushed, his hair damp from the rain. “Did you see it?!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “The storm! It’s massive! I haven’t seen one this big since–” He faltered, his gaze flickering around the room, taking in the stillness, the way Apollo’s hands were clenched white-knuckled in his lap, the way Hermes' wings trembled.

Telemachus’s grin faded just slightly, curiosity and concern flitting across his features. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler. He stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. “You all alright?”

Apollo glanced up, forcing a tight smile. “We’re…we’re fine, Telemachus. Just,” His eyes flickered to the window where rain streaked down the glass in rivulets, lightning flashing somewhere in the distance. “It’s just loud.”

Telemachus’s brow furrowed, but before he could speak, another crack of thunder split the air, rattling the window panes and shaking the walls. Hermes flinched, a small yelp escaping him, wings curling in tight, his hands fisting in the blanket. His breath came faster, uneven, and Tiresias’s hand rubbed gentle, grounding circles on his back.

Telemachus watched the way Hermes shook, the way Apollo’s hands clenched harder, his jaw tight and eyes locked on the flames. “Hey…” Telemachus said softly, his voice dropping to something more cautious, more tender. “What’s going on?”

Apollo swallowed, his gaze flickering to Hermes, who hadn’t lifted his head. “It’s…” He paused, his hands loosening just slightly. “Our father.”

“Your father. Not mine.” Hermes whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Telemachus blinked, brow creasing. “Zeus?” And though he kept his voice soft and careful, he didn’t miss the way that Hermes and Apollo both tensed at the name.

Apollo nodded slowly. “The storm…it just reminds us of him.” His voice dropped to a whisper, gaze dropping back to the fire. “Of his anger.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken. Telemachus took a breath, his hands curling into fists. He glanced at Hermes, who was still shaking, Tiresias’s hand never faltering as they rubbed slow, steady circles on his back. He glanced back at Apollo, who was rigid and tense, his gaze fixed on the flames as if afraid to look anywhere else.

Telemachus’s jaw set, eyes narrowing with determination. “Well,” he said firmly, stepping forward until he was right between the two gods. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Apollo glanced up, brow furrowed. “Telemachus–”

“No,” Telemachus said, shaking his head fiercely. “Not here. Not in my home.” He knelt down in front of Hermes, his eyes bright and unyielding. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Hermes' gaze lifted, just barely, his eyes wide and wet. “You…” His voice cracked. “You don’t have to–”

“I do,” Telemachus insisted, his hands balling into fists. “I want to. You’re my family.” He turned to Apollo, his expression just as fierce. “Both of you.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, his hands loosening. “Telemachus…”

Telemachus straightened up, planting his hands on his hips. “I’m going to protect you. Both of you. I don’t care if he’s the King of the Gods. He can’t hurt you here. Not while I’m around.” He said it with a fire that burned brighter than the hearth, his eyes locked on both of them with a determination that seemed to fill the room with light.

Hermes' wings fluttered, just slightly, peeking out from under the blanket. He blinked, his hands loosening from their iron grip. “Little Trickster,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Telemachus turned back to him, his expression softening. “You’re safe, Hermes. I promise. I’m going to protect you.”

Hermes stared at him, disbelief and something fragile flickering across his face. His wings fluttered again, less of a shiver and more of a soft rustle, the tension in his shoulders melting just the smallest bit. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Okay.”

Apollo let out a shaky breath, his hands dropping to his sides, the tension in his body uncoiling just slightly. He leaned back against the cushions, exhaling slowly. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice soft but steady.

Telemachus just grinned, his eyes bright and unyielding. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s what family does.” He sat down next to Apollo, leaning slightly into the god, and received a shuddering breath of relief as Apollo’s arms wrapped around him.

The rain continued to pour, the wind howling against the windows, but somehow the room felt just a little bit warmer, a little bit safer. Hermes' wings fluttered, and for the first time since the storm began, he took a real breath.

The storm raged outside, unyielding and fierce, rain lashing against the windows and thunder rumbling like the roar of a beast. The fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to seep in from every crack and crevice. Hermes still sat curled against Tiresias, his wings trembling slightly beneath the heavy blanket Odysseus had draped over him. Apollo leaned back into the cushions, but his eyes were distant, flickering with every rumble that shook the walls.

Apollo watched with quiet eyes. His gaze flickered to the window, where rain streaked down the glass in jagged lines. Another roll of thunder crashed above them, shaking the very stone beneath their feet.

Hermes flinched hard, his wings flared instinctively, then curled back in, tighter than before. His breath came faster, sharper, the room suddenly feeling far too small. Too tight.

Tiresias’s hand remained firm on his back, slow and steady. “You’re here,” they murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his hands shaking. He sucked in a sharp breath, shoulders hunched forward. “I-I’m…” He swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come. His wings trembled, pressing harder against the blanket as if they might disappear entirely if he just squeezed hard enough.

Another flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the room with harsh, jagged light. For a moment, Hermes wasn’t in Ithaca. He wasn’t safe. He was back on Olympus, the wind howling through the marble columns, the sky darkening with storm clouds summoned at the flick of Zeus’s wrist. The air crackled with power, the scent of ozone sharp and suffocating. His wings were trembling as Zeus’s magic clipped them, feathers scattering, plummeting to the marble below. He heard the shouts, the screams, the crack of thunder as he fell, begging for Zeus to reconsider.

“Hermes? Come back to me, sweet bird.” Tiresias’s voice was soft, gentle, a tether back to the present. But it wasn’t enough. The room was spinning, the fire too bright, the walls pressing in. Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, hands still clutching Tiresias’s robes. His wings were shaking violently now, tips brushing the stone floor as if trying to take flight. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere safe.

A hand settled on his shoulder, light, grounding. “Hermes.” It was Apollo’s voice, soft but unyielding. “Look at me.”

Hermes' breath hitched, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t open his eyes. If he did, he’d be back there, facing Zeus’s wrath, cast from Olympus, stripped of everything he was. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Herms,” Apollo’s voice was firmer now, pressing through the fog. “You’re not there. You’re here. In Ithaca. With me. With Tiresias. You’re safe.” His hand didn’t move, didn’t falter. “Open your eyes.”

Hermes shuddered, his wings fluttering weakly, but he opened his eyes. The firelight flickered softly, casting warm shadows across the room. Tiresias’s hand was still steady on his back, rubbing slow circles, and Apollo’s gaze was sharp and steady. Hermes swallowed, the tension in his hands loosening just slightly.

“There you are,” Apollo murmured, his hand squeezing gently. “You’re alright. You’re here.”

Hermes blinked, breath shaky but steadying. He looked down at his hands, still clutching the cup, and let out a ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Tiresias said, their voice warm and unyielding. “You’re here. That’s all that matters.”

Penelope stepped forward, her eyes shining with quiet understanding. “You’re safe,” she echoed softly. “You’re safe with us, Hermes.”

Hermes nodded, his wings twitching beneath the blanket, feathers rustling quietly. “I…I am,” he murmured, voice fragile but certain. 

The thunder rumbled again, softer this time, and Hermes flinched, just barely, but he didn’t retreat. Tiresias’s hand rubbed slow circles on his back, Apollo’s grip steady on his shoulder, and for a moment, Hermes allowed himself to believe it. He was safe. He was here. He was not alone.

The storm raged on, unyielding and relentless, the rain hammering against the roof in steady waves, lightning crackling in jagged streaks across the sky. Hermes remained curled into Tiresias, his wings still shivering beneath the blanket, the soft flutter of feathers brushing against Tiresias’s legs. Apollo sat close, hand still resting on Hermes' shoulder.

The fire crackled, casting warm light across the room, softening the harshness of the storm outside. 

Penelope just smiled, moving back to the hearth to adjust the logs, coaxing the flames to burn brighter. “It’s just a storm,” she murmured, mostly to herself but loud enough for the others to hear. “Just a storm.”

But Hermes' wings still shivered, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming in shallow bursts. Tiresias’s hand remained firm, rubbing gentle circles into his back, voice a soft murmur of reassurance. “You’re alright, sweet bird. You’re safe here. Just breathe.”

Hermes tried, he really did, but another crack of thunder split the sky, shaking the very stones beneath them. He flinched violently, wings flaring out beneath the blanket. His breath hitched, and he ducked his head, curling further into Tiresias’s embrace. His fingers twisted into their robes, knuckles white, eyes still shut tight. “I’m trying,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m trying, I-I just…Gods. What if he? What if? It hurts.” His sentences broke, stuttering as he tried to make sense of the world around him.

Tiresias’s hand moved to his head, carding gently through his hair, gently smoothing the soft feathers on his head wings. “I know,” he whispered, his voice as soft as the rain. “I know you are. He’s not here. It’s just us. You, me, Apollo–” Hermes' head lifted.

“Polly?” He whispered, glancing around.

“I’m right here. I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re safe.” Apollo said, moving to sit where Hermes could see him.

“Safe,” he whispered.

Penelope knelt down, her hands deft and careful as he readjusted the blanket over Apollo’s shoulders. “There you go.” She murmured, patting Apollo’s shoulder gently. “Nice and warm.”

Apollo blinked, surprise flitting across his features before it softened into something grateful. He pulled the blanket tighter, nodding in appreciation. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Penelope offered him a kind smile, then moved to Hermes and Tiresias, her hands gentle as she wrapped another blanket around them both, careful not to startle the trembling god. “There you are,” she murmured, voice warm and steady. “All bundled up.”

Hermes' wings fluttered beneath the weight, but he didn’t pull away. His fingers tightened in Tiresias’s robes, his head still ducked, but he whispered, “Thank you.” His voice was fragile, barely above a whisper, but Penelope smiled warmly, patting his shoulder.

Hermes flinched again at another crack of thunder, his wings quivering beneath the blanket, but Tiresias’s hand never faltered, moving in steady, grounding circles. “You’re here,” they whispered, their voice a tether in the storm. “You’re right here, sweet bird.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, but he nodded, just barely. His wings curled in, feathers brushing Tiresias’s legs. “I’m here,” he whispered back, his voice thin but resolute. “I’m here.”

Just then, the door swung open with a burst of wind and rain, and Odysseus walked in, cheeks flushed and hair damp. “I brought some firewood.” He said, holding up a bundle of sticks. “Thought we could make it nice and warm in here.” He smiled softly.

Penelope laughed, shaking her head. “You didn’t need to run out there, darling.”

Odysseus shrugged, setting the sticks by the fire. “I wanted to,” he replied with a grin. “I would have sent Telemachus, but he seemed a bit occupied.” Telemachus smiled back at him from where he was tucked into Apollo’s side.

Telemachus grinned, “He’s warm. What can I say?” 

Odysseus nodded, grin softening as he addressed the two gods. “Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm and genuine. “You two doing alright?”

Apollo managed a smile, though it was thin. “We’re…managing,” he replied carefully.

Hermes hesitated, his wings curling back in tightly, but Tiresias’s hand on his back stayed steady. “I’m…okay,” he murmured, voice soft and hesitant.

Odysseus nodded and Telemachus’s grin grew. “Good.” The prince leaned back against Apollo’s side, stretching out his arms with a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to protect you two then, huh?”

Hermes blinked, eyes flickering with surprise. “Protect…us?”

Telemachus nodded, his expression resolute. “Of course! It’s just a storm, right?” He glanced at the window where the rain lashed against the glass. “I can protect you. No problem.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, just barely. His eyes flickered to Tiresias, who smiled softly. “Hear that?” Tiresias murmured, voice light and warm. “You’ve got a guard now.”

Hermes hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. His wings shivered beneath the blanket, but he whispered, “Okay.” 

Telemachus beamed, his grin bright and unwavering. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He said it with such confidence, such simple certainty, that for a moment, Hermes believed him. His wings fluttered, just a bit less tense, and Tiresias’s hand continued its gentle rhythm.

Penelope returned with bread and tea, and the room filled with warmth and light, the thunder growing softer, less oppressive. The storm raged on outside, but within the walls of the palace, there was only warmth, only safety.

Telemachus straightened up, planting his hands on his hips. “You know what we need?” He declared, his voice bright and determined. “A game. I know the perfect one. It’s my favorite.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings still shaking with nerves, eyes flickering with doubt. His grip on Tiresias’s robes didn’t loosen, and his gaze remained somewhat unfocused.

Tiresias leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Hermes' head. “Go ahead and play your game, Telemachus. We’ll join when he’s ready.” Their voice was soft, tender, and full of understanding.

Telemachus paused, then nodded, his smile never wavering. “Alright,” he said brightly. “We’ll be right here when you are.” He began explaining the rules in a low, excited whisper, leaving Hermes cocooned in warmth and safety, the storm raging on outside, but just a little further away.

Notes:

Oof. Who asked for trauma? Oh right…me. Oh well! Hope you enjoyed!

As always, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 48

Summary:

The storm rages on.

Notes:

FYI, this chapter contains a bit of dissociation. I'm not sure if I'm portraying it super accurately, but this has been my experience with dissociation as I have a friend who dissociates every now and then. I apologize if there are any inaccuracies. Please feel free to let me know if there are.

Additionally, if this is a topic that could be triggering to you, I'd recommend skipping the chapter as its pretty much the theme of the whole chapter.

Take care of yourselves and read responsibly, please.

Telemachus set up his little game with practiced ease, his hands moving deftly to arrange the pieces on the low table in front of Apollo. His voice was steady and bright, explaining the rules with a patience that spoke to his kindness. Apollo leaned forward, brow furrowing in concentration, nodding along as Telemachus pointed out the various strategies.

“Alright,” Telemachus finished, clapping his hands together with a grin. “You ready?”

Apollo’s gaze flickered to Hermes for just a moment, eyes softening at the way his brother was still tucked securely into Tiresias’s side, his wings wrapped tightly around himself, feathers trembling ever so slightly. But Tiresias’s hands never stopped their gentle rhythm, brushing over his head wings, smoothing out each feather with delicate care. Hermes' breath was still shallow, his eyes flickering with every distant rumble of thunder.

Apollo swallowed, nodding back to Telemachus. “I’m ready,” he said, voice steady.

Telemachus grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Good. Prepare to lose.”

Apollo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “We’ll see about that, Little Wolf.”

They fell into an easy rhythm, the pieces clattering softly against the wooden table, Telemachus’s voice breaking through the tension with the occasional cheerful laugh or dramatic gasp when a move didn’t go his way. Apollo’s chuckles were soft at first, guarded and careful, but as the game progressed, they grew louder, warmer, the lines of tension around his eyes softening bit by bit.

But Hermes remained silent, his wings still pressed tightly against his ankles and head, his breath coming in soft, uneven bursts. Tiresias’s hands never faltered, brushing down the edges of his wings with featherlight touches, their voice a gentle murmur of reassurance.

Penelope moved gracefully throughout the room, handing everyone tea and freshly baked bread, the warm, fragrant scent wafting through the space. “Here we are,” she said softly, her voice light and calming. “Something to keep us warm while we wait out this storm.”

Telemachus beamed, reaching for his cup immediately. “Thank you!” he chirped, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip. “Perfect, as always, Mother.”

Penelope’s smile was tender, and she ruffled his hair as she passed, moving to where Tiresias and Hermes sat curled together. She knelt gracefully, offering a cup to Tiresias first. “Here you are, Tiresias,” she murmured. “Something warm.”

Tiresias accepted it with a soft smile, his hand never leaving Hermes' wings. “Thank you,” they whispered, voice gentle.

Penelope turned her gaze to Hermes, her eyes softening with maternal affection. She held out another cup, her hands steady and sure. “For you, my dear.”

Hermes blinked, his eyes flickering to the cup, then back to her. His wings trembled, his hands still fisted in Tiresias’s tunic, and he shook his head slowly. “I…I’m okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Penelope didn’t flinch, didn’t press. She merely placed the cup on the low table beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “It’ll be here when you’re ready,” she said softly. “No rush.” Her hand lingered just a moment longer before she straightened, moving back to her place by the fire.

Hermes' gaze lingered on the cup, steam curling gently from the surface, the scent of herbs and honey drifting through the air. His wings fluttered just slightly, and Tiresias’s hands paused, their voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s alright, sweet bird,” they murmured. “You’re safe here.”

Hermes swallowed, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I know,” he whispered, though his voice was still thin and fragile. His wings shivered, but they didn’t curl in quite as tightly as before.

Apollo glanced over, his eyes flickering with concern, but Telemachus nudged him with a grin. “Not giving up already, are you?” he teased, knocking a piece off the board with a flourish. “Looks like I win this round.”

Apollo blinked, then laughed, the sound soft and genuine. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve after all.” He glanced back at Hermes, his smile softening. “Hey, Herms, you still remember how to play?”

Hermes' gaze flickered up, wings trembling, he sat up just a bit. He blinked, eyes flickering between Tiresias and Apollo. His mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. His wings curled back in.

Tiresias’s hand moved gently, brushing over the edge of his feathers. “It’s alright,” they murmured softly. “Take your time.”

Hermes swallowed, his gaze dropping back to his hands. “I…maybe later,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly.

Telemachus, unphased, just beamed. “I’ve got plenty of games. We can play as many as you like. When you’re ready.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, his hands relaxing just a fraction. “Okay,” he murmured, voice small but steady. “Okay.”

Penelope smiled from her spot by the fire, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “There’s no rush, dear,” she soothed. “You’re home now. Take all the time you need.”

The rain drummed steadily against the roof, muffled and rhythmic, a soft undercurrent to the quiet tension stretching through the room. The fire crackled, its glow flickering against the stone walls, casting long, uneven shadows.

Tiresias held Hermes tightly, his arms wrapped firm and grounding around him, but the god in his hold was stiff, unmoving. His wings had curled tightly against his calves again, trembling slightly with every distant roll of thunder. His breath was uneven, stuttering in his chest, and he did not respond to Tiresias's touch, did not react to the gentle rub of hands along his back. His breathing was shallow, strained, as if each inhale cost him something.

“Hermes,” Tiresias whispered again, voice soft but firmer this time. He cupped Hermes' face, his thumbs brushing gently over his cheekbones, feeling the coolness of his skin and the tremble in his jaw. “Sweet bird, you’re safe. You’re with me. You’re home.” His hands cradled him, thumbs moving with gentle pressure, as if the touch alone could pull Hermes back to the present.

But Hermes did not move. His breathing was still shallow, stuttering in bursts, his hands limp at his sides. Tiresias’s fingers brushed over his face, feeling the slight flinch at his touch, the way Hermes' pulse fluttered beneath his fingertips. “Hermes,” Tiresias tried again, voice cracking just slightly, the vibration of his own worry threading through the word. “You’re with me, sweet bird. Come back.”

From across the room, Telemachus’s voice wavered. “Tiresias?” he asked, hesitant and unsure. “Is…is he alright?”

Tiresias didn’t look up, his focus never leaving Hermes' face. His hands moved gently, brushing back the curls from Hermes' forehead, fingers running gently over the downy feathers of his head wings. “I don’t know,” Tiresias whispered, voice barely above a breath. They leaned in, their forehead resting against Hermes', their breath ghosting over Hermes’ skin. “He’s not coming back. This happened once before, but he came back, he didn’t stay away.”

A flicker of concern passed through the room. Penelope set down her knitting, her footsteps soft but certain as she approached. “What do you mean?” she asked gently, her hands brushing over the blanket that still rested over Hermes' shoulders.

Tiresias shook his head slowly. He could feel the way Hermes' breath was coming in short, shallow bursts, the uneven rhythm of it unsettling. Their hands moved in steady, slow patterns along Hermes' back, gentle but firm. “He’s stuck,” they murmured, voice thick with worry. “I can feel it. He’s…he’s not here. I mean, he's here, he's in my arms, but his mind isn't. It's stuck far away. He's scared, and lost because of that.”

Penelope’s touch was featherlight as she rested her hand on Hermes' wings, brushing gently over the quivering feathers, feeling them twitch at the touch. “Hermes?” she asked softly. “Can you hear me, darling? You’re here, with us. You’re safe.” 

Telemachus stepped forward, his breath catching audibly. “What do we do? Is he…he’s breathing, right?” He looked to Apollo, who had been standing off to the side, his breath shaky and uneven. “Apollo?”

Apollo snapped out of his daze, stepping forward, his hands hovering just over Hermes' shoulders. He could see the way Hermes' eyes were unfocused, glassy, but Tiresias felt the way Hermes' breath caught when Apollo's hands touched his shoulders. “I-I don’t know,” Apollo whispered, voice cracking just slightly. He knelt beside Tiresias, his hands steadying on Hermes' arms, feeling the way the god’s muscles were taut, trembling. “Hermes?” His voice was soft, familiar, but there was no flicker of recognition.

Apollo’s brow furrowed, panic flickering across his face. “Hermes,” he tried again, louder this time. He leaned in closer, his hands squeezing a bit more firmly. “Hey. Hey, I’m right here. Can you hear me?”

Nothing. Tiresias’s voice grew firmer, more insistent. “Sweet bird, I’m right here,” they murmured, his thumbs brushing over Hermes' cheeks, feeling the tension there, the way his jaw was clenched tight. “You’re safe. You’re right here, love. I’ve got you.”

Odysseus approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. “Is he…can he hear us?” he asked gently, his voice tinged with worry.

Tiresias shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he whispered, voice thin. Their hands trembled slightly, and they pressed their forehead against Hermes' once more, his breath warm and steady against the god's skin. “Please,” he begged softly. “Please come back.”

Apollo’s hands stayed firm on Hermes' shoulders, his fingers brushing over the fabric of his tunic, grounding. “Hermes,” he whispered, voice trembling. “You’re here. You’re with us. You’re safe.” His hands squeezed a bit more firmly. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

The room fell silent, the rain pattering gently against the roof, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Tiresias’s breath was ragged, his hands moving in gentle, grounding paths along Hermes' back, whispering soft reassurances that tethered him to the present, back to the warmth of Tiresias’s touch, back to the safety of Ithaca.

There was a silence, long and heavy, stretching through the room, and then–

Hermes' breath stuttered. Just once. Tiresias felt it immediately, the shift in the rhythm, the way Hermes' shoulders moved just slightly beneath his hands. His hand moved up, brushing gently over Hermes' cheek, feeling the warmth returning to his skin. “Hermes?” he whispered, voice cracking with hope. “Sweet bird, can you hear me?”

A shuddering breath slipped from Hermes' lips, and Tiresias’s hands tightened, their grip warm and steady. “There you are,” Tiresias whispered, voice soft and warm. “There you are, sweet bird.”

Hermes' hands moved, just barely, his fingers twitching against Tiresias’s sleeve. His breath came in stuttering bursts, his wings flickering slightly. “I…” His voice cracked, thin and fragile. “I’m…sorry.”

Tiresias’s hands cupped his face more firmly, shaking his head. “Oh, my love. My sweetest bird. You don’t need to be sorry,” they whispered fiercely. “You’re right here. You’re safe.” Their thumbs brushed over Hermes' cheekbones, grounding him back, pulling him back. “I’m right here.”

Hermes shivered, his wings curling in slightly tickling Tiresias’s legs, and he shuddered, leaning further forward. His breath was shaky, uneven, but it was real. He was back.

Odysseus and Penelope exhaled slowly, their footsteps shifting closer. Apollo’s hands stayed firm on Hermes' shoulders, his grip warm and steady. “You’re alright,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”

Hermes didn’t speak, but his wings gave a faint flutter, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing. Tiresias’s hands never stopped their gentle rhythm, brushing soft paths over his wings, whispering grounding reassurances that tethered him back to the room, back to the warmth of the fire, back to the people who would not leave.

The silence stretched on, heavy and unyielding. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire and the distant patter of rain against the stone walls. Tiresias's hands never stopped their gentle paths along Hermes' back, brushing over the delicate feathers of his head wings and down to the soft fluttering ones at his ankles. His touch was steady, grounding, a tether against the storm that raged both outside and within.

But Hermes still hadn’t fully returned.

His breath was shallow, his gaze flickering between focused and unfocused, occasionally staring somewhere beyond Tiresias’s shoulder, eyes glassy and distant. His wings trembled against Tiresias's hands, the faintest quiver like the ripple of wind through feathers. His body remained curled inward, locked tight as if bracing for something unseen.

Tiresias’s voice was a soft murmur, constant and unyielding. “You’re alright, sweet bird. I’m right here. You’re safe. Just breathe with me, okay? In…out…in…out.” They whispered the rhythm, his own breathing slow and deliberate, trying to tether Hermes to it, to ground him back to the present.

Hermes' wings fluttered weakly, a few feathers brushing against Tiresias's hands, but his eyes remained hesitant and unfocused, his breathing still ragged and uneven.

Apollo sat across from them, his posture rigid, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His gaze flickered from Tiresias to Hermes and back again, his breath shallow. He had seen Hermes hurt before, plenty of times, had healed countless cuts and wounds, but this was different. This wasn’t physical. He couldn’t heal it with warmth and light. He couldn’t reach into the wound and seal it up with divine power. This was deeper. Raw. And Apollo didn’t know how to reach it.

“Is he alright?” Apollo finally whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. He swallowed hard, his hands flexing in his lap. “I’ve never…he’s never. This has never happened to him.”

Tiresias froze. "Never?" Then he shook his head. "That doesn't matter right now. Right now, he just needs a bit of help coming back to us." Their hand moved to cup Hermes' cheek, thumb brushing gentle, repetitive paths along the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

Penelope moved closer, her footsteps whisper-soft against the stone floor. She settled beside Apollo, her hand resting on his shoulder, firm and steady. “He’s safe,” she murmured, voice warm and soothing. “We’re right here with him.”

Apollo’s eyes stayed locked on Hermes, his breath shallow. “I don’t know how to help. What do I do?” His voice broke, and Penelope’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

“You stay. You're helping by being here.” She soothed. “You’re here. He knows that.”

Apollo’s eyes flickered back to Hermes. “He looks so…so far away,” he whispered, voice thick with worry. His hands curled and uncurled against his knees, as if trying to hold onto something solid. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

Odysseus moved over, his steps slow and measured. He stopped beside Apollo, his hand coming to rest on his other shoulder, a solid, grounding weight. “Just be here,” Odysseus murmured, voice steady and calm. “Sometimes, just being here is enough.”

Apollo swallowed hard, nodding slowly, his eyes still locked on Hermes' vacant stare. “Right,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “Right.”

Hermes didn’t react. His breathing still came in shallow, uneven bursts, his eyes locked somewhere far away. Tiresias’s hands never stopped their motion, brushing rhythmically over his back, along the soft feathers of his wings, murmuring soft reassurances. “I’ve got you,” they whispered. “You’re with me. You’re right here, sweet bird. Come on, love. Come home.”

Penelope knelt down beside Tiresias, her hands gentle as they moved to brush over Hermes' shaking hands. Her touch was featherlight, soft, and grounding. “We’re right here, Hermes,” she whispered, her voice a balm. “You’re not alone.”

Telemachus hovered nearby, his expression tense, fists curled at his sides. He took a step forward, voice cracking slightly. “Hermes?” he asked gently, his eyes wide and frightened. “Can you hear us?”

Nothing. Hermes remained still, wings trembling slightly beneath Tiresias’s hands, his breath still uneven, eyes darting around, yet looking past the walls of the palace.

Tiresias swallowed hard, his hands cupping Hermes' face, brushing over his cheekbones. He leaned in, forehead pressed gently to Hermes', his breath ghosting across his love's skin. “Come back to me, sweet bird,” he whispered, voice shaking just slightly. “Follow my voice. You’re right here with me. Ithaca. Your home. You’re safe.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, just barely, a whimper escaping. Tiresias smiled. "I heard you, my love. That's it. Come back to me. Come back to Ithaca. To me.” Their hands brushed over Hermes' wings, over the soft, quivering feathers, grounding him back, pulling him back.

And then, just barely, Hermes' wings fluttered. A small, almost imperceptible movement. Tiresias’s breath hitched, his hands brushing gently along the wings. “That’s it,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “There you are, sweet bird. Come back to me.”

Hermes' breath stuttered again, his eyes blinking once, slow and heavy. His wings gave another weak flutter, his hands twitching. Tiresias’s hands held him steady, unyielding. “You’re here,” they whispered. “You’re safe. You’re home. I’m right here.”

Hermes blinked again, slower this time, his gaze drifting just slightly. His breath evened out, the shallow gasps settling into something steadier, more even. His wings gave a soft flutter, brushing gently against Tiresias’s arms. A soft, trembling breath left his lips. “I’m…here,” he whispered, voice thin and fragile.

Tiresias exhaled slowly, relief flooding their features. “Yes,” they whispered, their hands cupping his face, thumbs brushing gentle paths over his cheeks. “There you are, sweet bird. You’re right here.”

Hermes blinked, eyes focusing slowly, the glassy haze lifting just enough for recognition to flicker there. His breath was still shaky, but his gaze settled on Tiresias’s face, on the soft brush of hands along his cheeks. “Starlight?” he whispered, voice cracking.

Tiresias smiled, the expression soft and warm. “I’m here,” he replied, voice gentle. “You’re alright. You’re safe.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings fluttering weakly, and he leaned forward, collapsing into Tiresias’s chest. Their arms wrapped around him immediately, holding him steady, grounding him back to reality, back to Ithaca, back to the safety of his family.

The room exhaled collectively, the tension in the air dissipating slowly. Apollo let out a shaky breath, his hands unclenching, fingers shaking slightly. Odysseus patted Hermes' back gently, his touch grounding. Penelope’s hand remained on his, her touch warm and steady. Telemachus exhaled loudly, his hands releasing from their fists, shoulders sagging with relief.

“Welcome back,” Tiresias whispered, their voice a soft, soothing balm. “I’ve got you, sweet bird. I’ve got you.”

Hermes stayed curled against Tiresias, his wings still quivering, but his breath was steadier, more even. Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle paths, brushing over his back, smoothing over the delicate feathers of his head and ankle wings with the same steady rhythm.

Penelope and Odysseus returned to their seats by the hearth and Telemachus had settled on the floor just in front of them, his eyes bright and attentive, his hands clasped together tightly.

Apollo moved a little closer, his expression softening as he knelt beside Hermes, his hand reaching out to rest on his brother’s ankle, just above his wings. “Hey,” he murmured gently, voice low and soothing. “You’re alright. Scared us a bit, but you came back.”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings fluttering just slightly at the sound of Apollo’s voice. His eyes blinked open, slow and dazed, gaze flickering around the room. He took in the familiar faces, Tiresias’s steady presence, Penelope and Odysseus’ soft smiles, Telemachus’s bright eyes, and finally Apollo’s gentle touch. He blinked again, the haze of fear slowly receding, the shadows softening around the edges.

“I…” his voice was small, fragile. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “Where did I go?”

Tiresias’s hands moved to brush gently over the soft feathers at the tips of his wings, soothing him. “You were with us physically,” they murmured, voice soft. “But your head was a little far away for a while. It's okay, you’re back now.”

Hermes swallowed hard, nodding slowly. His gaze dropped to his hands, still tangled in the blanket draped over his shoulders. He flexed his fingers experimentally, as if testing the sensation of solid ground beneath him. His wings fluttered again, brushing against Tiresias’s hands. “I…I didn’t mean to go.”

“I know,” Tiresias whispered, their voice unyielding in its softness. “And that’s alright. You’re safe now.”

A rumble of thunder rolled softly outside, distant but clear. Hermes' wings flinched instinctively, his shoulders tensing. Tiresias’s hands moved quickly, brushing over his wings, his back, his cheeks, grounding, steadying. “Stay with me,” they murmured, voice firmer now, a tether against the fear. “Stay right here, Hermes. Ithaca. With me.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, his wings relaxing just slightly under Tiresias’s touch. His gaze remained fixed on his hands, but he didn’t slip away this time. His breath remained steady, shoulders trembling but not collapsing. “I’m here,” he whispered, voice thin and cracked. “I’m here.”

The room settled into a fragile kind of peace, the fire crackling warmly, its glow stretching across the stone walls and softening the shadows. Outside, the rain continued its steady patter against the roof, and thunder rolled gently, distant for now but never entirely gone.

Telemachus was the first to break the silence. He shifted, glancing up at Apollo, a spark of determination flaring in his eyes. “So,” he began, his voice pitched low but steady. “Are we going to finish our game or what? I’m still two points up.”

Apollo’s eyes flickered, the tension in his shoulders lessening by the smallest degree. “You wish,” he replied, his voice rough but steadier than before. “I was just letting you feel good about yourself.”

Telemachus grinned, a bright, youthful thing that brought a flicker of warmth back into the room. “I don’t think I need your help for that,” he teased, reaching for the small stack of stones they had been using for scoring.

Hermes watched them, his wings still shivering faintly against his back. His gaze was distant, his eyes unfocused, but Tiresias’s hand was a constant presence, gently smoothing down his feathers, grounding him with every pass. Tiresias leaned closer, their voice a soft whisper. “You’re right here, sweet bird,” they murmured, brushing a thumb over the base of Hermes' head wing. “Right here with me.”

Hermes' eyes blinked, and for a moment, they refocused. He swallowed hard, his wings fluttering weakly. “I…” His voice cracked, thin and fragile. “I want to play.”

The room grew still for just a moment, all eyes flickering to him. Telemachus was the first to respond, his grin widening. “Of course! Come on, sit with us.” He patted the floor next to him, his eyes bright with encouragement. “You can be on my team. I think Apollo needs the challenge.”

Apollo rolled his eyes but gave a soft smile. “You’re just saying that because you want to win,” he quipped, though his gaze remained soft and encouraging.

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering restlessly. He glanced up at Tiresias, his eyes wide and uncertain. “I don’t…I don’t know if I…”

Tiresias gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, their hand never leaving his back. “You can do this,” they murmured, their voice a steady thread of calm. “I’ll be right here with you.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, nodding just slightly. His wings twitched, brushing against Tiresias’s hands as he moved forward, his steps tentative and unsteady. Tiresias followed closely, never once letting go, their hands brushing gently over his back, the soft feathers on his ankle wings, keeping him tethered.

Telemachus slid over, making space for Hermes, and when Hermes finally settled down beside him, the boy gave him a wide, warm smile. “You ready?”

Hermes took another breath, his wings still fluttering slightly. “I think so,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. Tiresias sat directly behind him, their hands resting gently on his shoulders, grounding him with every pass of their fingers.

Apollo picked up a stone, tossing it lightly between his hands. “Alright,” he said, his voice softer now, more careful. “Let’s do this.”

They began to play, the stones clattering softly against the floor as they slid back and forth, light laughter and gentle teasing filling the room. Hermes tried to engage, his voice quiet but present, answering Telemachus’s questions, tossing out little barbs when Apollo missed a shot. His wings still fluttered every now and then, but Tiresias’s hands never left his back, rubbing slow, grounding circles that kept him tethered, keeping him present.

But then the sky split open.

A crack of thunder rolled across the hills, sharp and deafening, shaking the very walls of the palace. The floor seemed to tremble with it, the air growing heavy with static. Hermes flinched violently, his wings snapping open with a desperate flutter. His breath hitched, eyes going wide and unfocused. “No,” he whispered, the word barely formed before his gaze went distant, his body freezing, wings still trembling mid-flutter.

“Hermes?” Tiresias’s voice was sharp, panicked. Their hands flew to his cheeks, brushing gently but firmly, thumbs pressing against his jaw. “Sweet bird, come back. Right here. Stay with me.”

Hermes didn’t move. His wings twitched, a faint, stuttering motion like a broken bird. His gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond them, pupils blown wide, unseeing.

Apollo scrambled forward, his hand reaching out to grip Hermes' wrist. “Hermes,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Come back, little brother. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He squeezed Hermes' hand, grounding, desperate.

Telemachus looked between them, panic bright in his eyes. “What’s happening?” he asked, voice shaking. “Is he, can he hear us?”

Tiresias shook their head, their voice growing stronger, more commanding. “Hermes, right here. With me. Listen to my voice.” Their hands moved over Hermes' head wings, brushing gently but firmly, grounding him, tethering him back. “It’s Tiresias. I’m right here. You’re in Ithaca. You’re safe.”

Another rumble of thunder crackled through the walls, and Hermes flinched again, his breath catching. “No,” he whispered, the word strangled, choked. “No, please, no…”

Penelope stepped forward, her eyes wide with concern. “What can we do?” she asked, her voice urgent. “How do we help him?”

Tiresias didn’t look up, their hands brushing over Hermes' cheeks, his head wings, his shoulders. “We talk to him,” they replied firmly. “We remind him where he is. That he’s safe.”

Odysseus moved forward, his voice warm and steady. “Hermes,” he called gently, his hand resting on the god’s shoulder. “You’re here. With us. In Ithaca. Safe and sound.”

Telemachus scrambled closer, his voice eager and sure. “Yeah! You’re here with me, remember? We were just playing. I’m still beating Apollo by two points.”

Apollo forced a smile, his hand still gripping Hermes' wrist. “Not for long, Little Wolf,” he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly. He turned back to Hermes, his hand squeezing tighter. “You’re here, Hermes. You’re with us.”

Hermes blinked, his breath stuttering, his wings giving a weak flutter. His eyes focused, just for a moment, flickering around the room. “I…?” he breathed, his voice thin and fragile.

Tiresias’s hands moved to cup his cheeks, their voice gentle but firm. “You’re with us,” they whispered. “Ithaca. The game. Telemachus is still winning. You’re right here, sweet bird.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he blinked again, his gaze clearing just slightly. He looked at Tiresias, his eyes wide and fragile. “T-Tiresias?”

Their hands brushed gently over his cheeks. “I’m right here,” they whispered, voice soft and grounding. “You’re with me.”

A shudder ran through Hermes, his wings fluttering weakly. His gaze flickered around the room, Odysseus’s steady hand, Telemachus’s bright eyes, Apollo’s grip on his wrist. He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “I’m…here,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“You’re here,” Tiresias repeated, voice a gentle tether. “You’re home.”

The room let out a collective breath, the tension easing by a fraction. Hermes' wings fluttered, weaker now, but steady. His breath came slow and shaky, but it came. Apollo’s grip softened, but he didn’t let go. Telemachus reached out, his hand resting gently on Hermes' shoulder.

Notes:

Poor Hermes. Thunder and lightning bringing up bad memories of him getting clipped.

Big things happening next chapter…ish. Someone may or may not visit. Anyways, yeah. Hope you enjoyed!!

Go take care of yourselves! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 49

Summary:

A visitor in the storm.

“Still want to play?” Telemachus asked, his voice soft, his eyes bright with hope.

Hermes blinked, his gaze flickering back to the board. He swallowed, nodding just slightly. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I think I do.”

Tiresias’s hands stayed firm, their touch grounding and soft. “Then we’ll play,” they murmured, voice warm and gentle.

Hermes didn’t move, his gaze fixed on the floor. His wings fluttered softly, and Tiresias whispered something in his ear, too low for the others to hear. Hermes nodded, just barely, but seemed to ease a little bit.

Telemachus tossed another game piece, the sound louder than expected, and Hermes flinched. Apollo glanced sharply at his brother, guilt flashing across his face. Telemachus faltered for just a second before forcing a grin back onto his face. “See? You’ve got to be quick, or I’ll take all your pieces,” he teased.

Apollo gave a small, hesitant laugh. “You’re not that good,” he shot back, but his heart wasn’t in it. He picked up his own piece, hands trembling, and made his move.

The rain outside grew heavier, battering against the windows in relentless waves. Another low rumble of thunder made Hermes tense, his breathing quickening. Penelope moved to the fireplace, adjusting the logs to coax out more warmth, her movements calm and precise, but every so often, she would glance back, eyes lingering on Hermes' trembling form.

Odysseus kept his hands busy, slicing the bread and spreading honey, but his focus never strayed far from Hermes and Apollo. When he handed Apollo a plate, his hand lingered for just a moment, before he pulled back.

Hermes watched the game from the corner of his eye, his shoulders tight, his wings twitching as though ready to take flight. Telemachus tried to catch his attention, holding up a game piece with a triumphant grin. “You see that, Hermes? He didn’t see it coming!”

Hermes opened his mouth to respond, but the next clap of thunder cut through the room, louder and sharper than before. His hand slipped, the game piece falling from his grasp.

The game piece clattered to the floor, bouncing once before rolling to a stop. Hermes' hands were shaking too much to pick it back up, and Tiresias’s hand was there in an instant, grounding him with gentle pressure, their touch firm and steady. “It’s alright,” they murmured softly, voice brushing over Hermes like a tether. “You’re here. You’re safe.”

Just then, a loud bang resounded through the room. It almost sounded like a knock at the door; sharp and deliberate, cutting through the rain.

Hermes flinched violently, his wings snapping open. Apollo’s head whipped around, eyes wide and wild, his body going rigid. His hands stilled over the game pieces, hovering in the air like he’d forgotten how to move them.

For a heartbeat, nobody breathed. The rain pounded harder, thunder rolling low and heavy, and Hermes' breath came in ragged bursts. His grip on Tiresias’s arm tightened, knuckles white, fingers digging in. “No…” he whispered, voice shaking. “No, it can’t be…”

Apollo swallowed hard, but his throat bobbed unevenly. His hands were shaking, glowing with divine light. “It’s not him,” he said, voice low and firm, but the crack in his tone betrayed him. He was speaking more to himself than anyone else. His eyes didn’t leave the door, watching it like it might explode inward at any moment. “It’s not him.”

Telemachus stood so fast his chair toppled over with a loud crash. He stepped in front of Hermes and Tiresias, feet planted firmly, shoulders squared. “I’m not letting him in,” he said fiercely, his voice louder than the storm. “I don’t care who he is.” His hands balled into fists at his sides, his stance protective, unyielding.

Odysseus moved first, placing a firm hand on Apollo’s shoulder. Apollo flinched at the touch, and Odysseus squeezed gently, grounding. “I’ll get the door,” he said quietly, his voice steady. He glanced back at Penelope, who nodded, her eyes fixed on Hermes and Apollo with deep, quiet worry.

Apollo’s eyes didn’t leave the door. His hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His gaze flickered briefly to Hermes, seeing the way his wings trembled, the way Tiresias’s hands rubbed gentle, grounding circles along his back. But Apollo’s fear was sharp. “It’s not him,” he whispered again, this time barely audible. “It’s not him.” His hand found Hermes and held tight, grounding both of them. “We’re in this together, Herms. Whoever it is.” Hermes nodded against Tiresias’s shoulder, squeezing Apollo’s hand in agreement.

The rain battered against the windows, each drop a hammering pulse that seemed to echo inside Apollo’s skull. Tiresias’s voice, low and soothing, wove between the cracks in the tension, whispering soft reassurances to Hermes, grounding him bit by bit. Hermes' breath slowed, only slightly, but his wings still twitched at the edges.

Telemachus stood his ground, fists still clenched, eyes bright with defiance. His voice dropped to a whisper, just loud enough for Hermes, Apollo, and Tiresias to hear. “I’m not letting him take you,” he promised, voice steady and sure. “Not ever.”

Odysseus’s footsteps were slow and deliberate as he approached the door. His hand rested on the handle, pausing for just a moment. The door creaked open.

Rain poured in first, a gust of wind splattering droplets across the stone floor. Odysseus squinted against the rain, his body blocking the worst of the wind. A figure stood just outside, soaked to the bone, dark hair plastered to her face, eyes sharp and bright even through the downpour.

Athena. 

He quickly ushered her in. “We’re holding out in the parlor,” Odysseus murmured. Athena nodded, moving toward the room. Odysseus stopped her quickly. “They’re,” he hesitated, “holding it together. But they’re scared.” Athena’s face softened. She nodded once again, and they walked to the room.

Her gaze swept the room with precision, taking in the scattered game pieces, the tense stances, the way Apollo’s hands were shaking, the way Hermes clung desperately to Tiresias’s arm. Her expression softened, not with pity, but with understanding. Her eyes locked on Apollo first, and her voice came soft, steady. “I heard the storm.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, eyes going wide. His hands stopped shaking, just slightly, and he blinked rapidly. “Thena?”

Athena stepped inside, water pooling at her feet, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze flickered back to Hermes, still shaking in Tiresias’s hold. “I came to see you both,” she said, voice gentle, deliberate. “I figured a storm would be especially difficult with what’s happening right now.” She said, her gaze softening. “More than usual.”

Apollo’s shoulders slumped, like the tension had drained from him all at once. He exhaled shakily, his hands unclenching, and for the first time since the bang on the door, his eyes left the handle. He looked at her, really looked at her, and nodded slowly. “You…you came for us?”

Athena nodded, her footsteps soft as she crossed the threshold, rainwater trailing behind her. “Of course I did,” she replied firmly. “I’m here to stay.” Her gaze swept the room, quick and precise, taking in the scattered game pieces, the toppled chair, and the way Telemachus stood firmly in front of Hermes, like a guard dog ready to defend his family.

Her eyes settled on Hermes, trembling in Tiresias’s arms, but Tiresias’s hands never stopped his grounding movements, and Hermes' breathing, while still shaky, was steadying bit by bit. Athena’s gaze softened, acknowledging that Hermes was safe, wrapped in the comfort he needed.

Then she looked at Apollo.

He was still sitting on the floor, his hands trembling, fingers clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His eyes were locked on the door, his chest rising and falling too fast, his jaw set hard, as if holding back something he didn’t dare let out.

Athena crossed the room, moving slowly, deliberately. She knelt beside Apollo, just within his line of sight, and reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over his hand. “Pollo,” she murmured, her voice low and steady. “It’s just me.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, his gaze snapping to her face. For a moment, he looked at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was there. Then his hands loosened just slightly, the tension starting to bleed out of his posture. “Thena?” he whispered, voice cracking.

She didn’t hesitate, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close. Apollo froze at first, his whole body going rigid, but then he melted into her embrace, his hands clinging to her shoulders. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, a shuddering breath escaping him.

Athena’s hand came up to rest against the back of his head, her fingers brushing through his damp curls. “It’s alright,” she whispered, voice firm but soft. “I’m here. We’re all safe. It’s just a storm, not him.”

Apollo didn’t respond, but his grip tightened on her, his shoulders trembling. She didn’t move, just kept her hold steady, one hand on his head and the other on his back, rubbing slow circles.

Telemachus, still standing protectively in front of Hermes and Tiresias, watched with wide eyes. Odysseus moved up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder, and Telemachus finally let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Hermes shifted just slightly, peeking out from the safety of Tiresias’s arms. He saw Athena’s steady presence, the way Apollo clung to her, and his wings gave a soft flutter. Tiresias leaned closer, their hand smoothing over his head wings. “It’s your sister,” they whispered. “She’s here.”

Hermes nodded, just barely, but his wings didn’t relax. Tiresias kissed his temple, grounding him, and Hermes let out a shaky breath.

Apollo pulled back just enough to look at Athena’s face, his own eyes rimmed red. “You came for us,” he murmured, still sounding disbelieving.

Athena brushed a curl from his forehead, her expression softening. “Of course I did,” she said firmly. “I know how scary he is. I couldn’t just sit and do nothing.”

Apollo let out a strangled laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. He ducked his head, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. “I thought–” His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish.

Athena’s hand tightened just slightly, fingers still brushing through his hair. “I know,” she murmured. “But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Apollo exhaled, long and shaky, and his grip loosened just a little, one hand resting on her shoulder instead of gripping it like a lifeline. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

Athena didn’t respond with words, she didn’t need to. She just continued to hold him, strong and unyielding, letting him take as much time as he needed.

Telemachus finally eased his stance, glancing back at Hermes, who was still curled into Tiresias’s side. “Is…is he okay?” Telemachus asked softly.

Tiresias offered him a small, reassuring smile. “He’s alright,” they said gently. “You did well.”

Telemachus puffed up a little at that, his shoulders relaxing. He stayed close, though, eyes flickering between Apollo and Hermes, still ready to spring into action if needed.

Penelope came closer, a soft smile on her lips as she moved to kneel beside Athena and Apollo. “You’re soaked, Lady,” she noted, brushing a hand over Athena’s shoulder.

Athena just nodded, still focused on Apollo. “I’m fine,” she replied softly. “He needed me more.”

Penelope’s smile widened just a fraction. “We’ll get you some dry clothes. Stay as long as you need.”

Apollo’s breathing had evened out, his hands no longer shaking. He slowly leaned back, eyes meeting Athena’s, a hint of a smile ghosting over his lips. “You really came back just for us?”

Athena reached out and brushed his cheek with her thumb, the movement uncharacteristically gentle. “Of course I did,” she said, almost teasing. “Can’t have my brothers facing storms alone.”

Apollo’s lips twitched upward, and he let out a soft, relieved breath. “You haven’t done that since we were kids,” he murmured.

Athena gave him a look that was almost fond. “Maybe it’s time I start again,” she replied.

Hermes, still tucked into Tiresias’s embrace, watched the exchange with wide, cautious eyes. Tiresias’s hand rubbed over his back, and he finally whispered, “She’s really here?”

Tiresias nodded, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Yes, sweet bird. She’s here for both of you.”

Athena stayed with Apollo for a long moment, her hand still on his shoulder, brushing through his curls. His breathing had evened out, his hands no longer shaking, and though his eyes were still glassy, there was a lightness there, fragile, but real. She leaned back just slightly, her hand still resting on his arm. “Better?” she asked gently.

Apollo nodded, his gaze still locked on her, like he was afraid she might vanish if he blinked. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I…I’m okay.”

Athena brushed his cheek with her thumb one last time, a soft, steadying gesture. “Good.” Her gaze flickered over his shoulder, her eyes settling on the place where Hermes was still tucked into Tiresias’s side, his wings trembling faintly. Tiresias’s hands never stopped moving, gentle, grounding strokes over Hermes' head wings, smoothing each feather with careful precision.

Athena watched them for a moment, her expression softening with something unspoken. She looked back at Apollo, her hand squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured. Apollo just nodded, his eyes flickering to Hermes as well, and then back to her with understanding.

Athena stood, moving slowly, every step deliberate and soft. The rain was still coming down in torrents outside, but she barely seemed to notice as she crossed the room, her gaze never leaving Hermes.

Tiresias tilted their head as she approached, hearing her soft footsteps. They leaned down, whispering something soft and gentle into Hermes' ear. His wings twitched, his grip on their arm tightening. “Hermes,” Tiresias murmured, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Look who’s here.”

Hermes flinched at first, his shoulders hunching protectively, but Tiresias’s hands were still there, gentle and constant. “It’s alright,” they whispered, voice like a balm. “It’s just Athena.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes squeezing shut. “Thethe?” he whispered, the name cracking in the middle. His wings fluttered, feathers brushing against the floor.

“Yes,” Tiresias replied, their hand cupping his cheek. “She came for you.”

Athena stopped just a few paces away, her hands at her sides, making no move to reach for him. She watched him carefully, eyes full of something strong and unyielding, but softened at the edges. “Hey, Herms.” She said softly, voice gentle but steady.

Hermes blinked, his eyes flickering open and slowly turned his head to look at Athena. He blinked once, twice, as if trying to process that she was real. “You…you’re here?” he whispered, voice thin and cracking.

Athena’s expression softened further, and she stepped forward just a little. “I’m here,” she said firmly. “I came to make sure you were alright.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings shivering against his temples, brushing Tiresias’s shoulders. His hands stayed locked in the prophet’s tunic, knuckles white, but his eyes never left Athena’s. “You came…for me?”

Athena nodded. “Of course I did,” she replied. “I heard about the storm. I knew you’d be…” She hesitated, then her eyes softened. “I knew you’d need someone here.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and his wings fluttered faintly. He glanced back at Tiresias, who gave him an encouraging nod. “She’s really here, sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured, voice low and gentle. “You’re safe.”

Slowly, so slowly it felt like time had stopped, Hermes reached out one hand, trembling and uncertain. Athena stepped forward, her movements measured, and took his hand in hers, clasping it gently. Her hands were warm, strong, just like he remembered. Hermes blinked, his breath coming out in a shudder. “You…you really came,” he whispered, barely audible.

Athena nodded, her grip steady. “I did,” she replied, voice soft. “And I’m staying.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, and then he moved, crossing the short space between them until he reached Athena. She opened her arms the moment he reached her, and he practically fell into them, wings twitching and feathers scattering as he pressed his face into her shoulder.

Athena held him tightly, one hand coming up to rest on the back of his head, fingers threading gently through his curls. “There you are,” she murmured, voice cracking just slightly. “I’ve got you.”

Hermes shuddered in her arms, his wings fluttering helplessly against her back. “You…you’re here,” he whispered, voice muffled against her armor. “You came back.”

Athena squeezed him tighter. “Of course I did,” she whispered fiercely. “Of course I did.”

Apollo, who had been watching with wide eyes, seemed to come alive all at once. He stepped forward, slow and tentative, his hands clutched at his sides. He stopped just a step away, gaze flickering from Hermes to Athena, and his breath hitched.

Athena lifted her gaze, catching his eye. She held out her arm, wordlessly inviting him in. Apollo didn’t hesitate, he moved forward, settling down beside them, and Athena’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, too.

The three of them sat there, pressed close, wings and arms entangled. Hermes' wings twitched, feathers brushing against Apollo’s cheek, and Apollo let out a shaky breath, leaning into the warmth.

Penelope and Odysseus stood just a little ways off, watching with soft smiles. Odysseus wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

Penelope leaned in, her voice a soft whisper meant just for him. “I think we’re gonna be housing another one,” she murmured, her eyes shining.

Odysseus chuckled, his grip tightening on her shoulder. “Looks like it,” he replied, voice full of fondness. “I hope our home is big enough.”

Penelope smiled, her gaze still fixed on the gods huddled together on the floor. “I think it will be,” she whispered back, gently soothing Telemachus’s hair where he had sat beside her.

Athena didn’t move, her hand rubbing soft circles on Hermes' back, her other arm locked around Apollo’s shoulders. They stayed like that, huddled together, the storm still raging outside but feeling distant, unthreatening.

Tiresias moved back just a little, a gentle smile spreading across their face, feeling the warmth in the room. Their hands settled in their lap, and they turned slightly towards Penelope and Odysseus, tilting their head. “Isn’t it lovely?” they murmured, voice soft and full of pride.

Penelope’s smile grew. “It really is.”

The rain still beat heavily against the windows, the sound rhythmic and steady, but it felt distant now, a mere whisper against the warmth that had settled over the room. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting soft, flickering light over stone walls and the entwined figures of the three gods on the floor.

Hermes stayed pressed tightly to Athena’s chest, his wings slowly stilling, the trembling that had rippled through them finally beginning to fade. Her hand moved in soft, repetitive circles over his back, brushing over the delicate wings that twitched beneath her fingers. She was careful, so careful not to jostle him, her touch steady and grounding.

Apollo sat beside them, leaning into Athena’s side, his head resting against her shoulder. His eyes were closed, his breathing even but heavy, like he’d been holding it for far too long and was only just now letting himself breathe again. Athena’s arm was slung over his shoulder, her hand resting against his upper arm, thumb brushing slow, rhythmic strokes over his skin.

No one spoke. There was no need.

Odysseus and Penelope remained just a few steps away, their expressions soft and full of a quiet sort of awe. Penelope’s hand rested on Odysseus’s arm, and he covered it with his own, squeezing gently. Neither of them moved, not wanting to disrupt the fragile peace that had settled over the room.

Telemachus, who had been standing guard just moments before, finally let his shoulders relax. He shad moved back to sit by his parents, the tension in his stance had softened. He stepped back just slightly, brushing his fingers against the edge of the low table where the game pieces still lay scattered. His hand lingered there, but he made no move to touch them. Not yet.

Tiresias had settled back into their chair, their hands folded neatly in their lap, a soft, contented smile on their face.

Hermes finally shifted, just a little, his wings giving a gentle flutter. He didn’t pull away, didn’t even lift his head, but his fingers curled just a little tighter into the fabric of Athena’s tunic. His breath came out in a soft sigh, and Athena’s hand moved to brush over the back of his head, fingers threading through his curls. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I’m right here.”

Hermes nodded against her shoulder, his wings twitching faintly. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his body continued to fade, little by little, like he was unraveling the fear one thread at a time.

Apollo didn’t move either. His head stayed resting against Athena’s shoulder, his eyes still closed, his breathing soft and even. One of his hands had found its way to Hermes' ankle, resting there lightly, a tether more for himself than for his brother. His thumb brushed back and forth against Hermes' wing joint in gentle, rhythmic strokes, grounding both of them.

Penelope finally leaned back against Odysseus, her head resting on his shoulder. Her eyes never left the three gods, and her smile remained soft and unyielding. “They look like they belong here,” she whispered, her voice just barely carrying over the crackling fire.

Odysseus kissed the top of her head, his own gaze lingering on the trio. “I think they do,” he replied softly. “I think they always have.”

Athena didn’t move. Her arms stayed wrapped around her brothers, one hand on Apollo’s arm and the other cradling Hermes against her chest. Her gaze stayed forward, her expression soft but unyielding, like she had made a decision and would not be swayed. Her fingers continued to brush through Hermes' curls, her other hand squeezing Apollo’s shoulder every so often.

After a long moment, Athena shifted just slightly, her hand moving from Hermes' back to his head wings. She glanced down at him, eyes softening with something unspoken. “Do you remember,” she began quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes blinked, his eyes flickering up to meet hers. “Remember?”

Athena’s smile was gentle. “How you used to get so flustered when your wings wouldn’t lie flat? You’d come to me if Apollo or Dite weren’t around, with your hair all tangled up in them, demanding someone fix it.”

A soft huff of laughter escaped Hermes, and his wings gave a faint flutter. “Oh, yeah. They were so annoying.” His voice was thin, fragile, but the memory seemed to settle something deep in his chest.

Athena’s hand moved gently over the feathers at his temples, smoothing them down with careful precision. “May I?” she asked softly.

Hermes hesitated for only a moment before nodding, his wings flickering faintly. Athena smiled, her hands moving slowly, deliberately, brushing over the delicate head wings with a tenderness that felt almost sacred. Her fingers moved with care, smoothing down every feather, setting them back into place like she’d done so many times before.

Apollo watched for a moment, his eyes softening, before his gaze dropped to Hermes' ankle wings. He glanced up at Athena, who nodded encouragingly, and then he reached out, his hands brushing over the small feathers with the same kind of deliberate care. His movements were gentle, his touch featherlight, like he was afraid of disturbing something precious.

Hermes' breath stilled at first, his body tensing, but Athena’s hand never faltered. “It’s just us,” she whispered. “Just like it used to be.”

Hermes blinked, his eyes glistening, and then he relaxed, just a little. “Just like it used to be,” he whispered back. His eyes fluttered closed, and he let out a shuddering breath as his siblings continued to preen his wings with gentle, practiced hands.

Apollo worked quietly, his hands never rushing, smoothing out each feather on Hermes' ankle wings, brushing away dust and setting each one perfectly in place. His fingers were delicate, reverent, and Hermes' breath evened out more and more with every touch.

“You’re always so good at this,” Hermes murmured, voice soft with the hint of a smile.

Apollo chuckled, the sound quiet and warm. “Centuries of practice,” he replied, brushing a finger over the edge of Hermes' wing. “You always used to mess them up, running around like you did.”

Hermes huffed a laugh, the sound barely there but real. “Some things don’t change.”

Athena smiled, her hands still moving gently over his head wings. “No, they don’t.”

The room settled into silence again, but it was lighter now, the weight of tension replaced with something softer, something whole. Hermes' wings fluttered under their touch, his breath evening out, his body finally relaxing in their presence.

And then, so quietly it was almost a breath, Hermes whispered, “Missed you, Thethe.”

Athena’s hands stilled. Her breath caught, and her eyes shimmered with something fragile and breakable. She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against his. “I missed you, too, little wing,” she whispered back, her voice cracking just slightly. “More than you know.”

Apollo’s hand continued its slow, steady rhythm over Hermes' ankle wings, his eyes softening as he watched them. He didn’t say anything, but his smile grew, bright and real, as if something heavy had finally been lifted from his shoulders.

Across the room, Penelope leaned into Odysseus, her smile spreading wide and warm. “Look at them,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “I think they’re finally home.”

Odysseus wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “I think you’re right,” he murmured, voice full of quiet pride. He pressed a kiss to her temple, his gaze never leaving the three siblings, huddled together in the soft glow of the fire.

Tiresias, who had been quietly sitting back, his hands folded neatly in his lap, tilted his head towards the sound of Hermes' soft laugh. His smile grew, warm and content. “He’s happy,” they murmured, their voice full of pride and relief. “I can feel it.”

Penelope glanced back at Tiresias, her own smile brightening. “I can too,” she replied. “And I think it’s long overdue.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, their head tilting back towards the fire, feeling the warmth on their face. “It is,” they agreed softly. “But it’s here now.”

And so they stayed, wrapped up in each other, the storm outside now just a whisper in the background.

Notes:

SHE'S BAAAACK!!!!

Is she here to stay this time? Who knows…(I know).

As always, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 50

Summary:

A bit of healing, a bit of angst, a bit of comfort. ENJOY!

Athena’s hands continued their slow, deliberate preening of Hermes' head wings, smoothing each feather with care and precision. Apollo remained beside them, his touch gentle as he worked through Hermes' ankle wings, brushing away the remnants of dust and setting each feather right. Hermes had gone nearly limp between them, his eyes half-lidded with comfort and trust, wings occasionally fluttering under their touch. His breath was slow and steady, his shoulders finally relaxed. Athena’s hand moved with practiced familiarity, and every now and then she would hum something soft under her breath, too quiet to be heard but felt all the same.

Telemachus watched from across the room, his hands fidgeting at his sides. His gaze kept flickering to the game pieces scattered on the floor, and then back to the three gods huddled together. He bit his lip, glancing up at his father, then back at the game.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. Telemachus stepped forward, his movements gentle but eager. He bent down and began to pick up the game pieces, his hands quick and practiced. The soft clatter of wood against the tabletop was barely audible over the fire, but it was enough to draw Odysseus’s attention.

“Hey,” Telemachus whispered, glancing up at his father. “Think they’d wanna play again?” His eyes were bright, his smile full of hope and the genuine kind of kindness that only Telemachus seemed to master. “They were really into it before,”

Odysseus stepped forward, his footsteps soft but sure. He reached out, placing a firm but gentle hand on Telemachus’s shoulder. His eyes crinkled with warmth as he looked down at his son. “Let them be together for a bit longer,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I think they need this.”

Telemachus paused, looking back over his shoulder. His gaze softened as he took in the three of them; Hermes tucked securely between his siblings, wings relaxed and eyes half-closed, Athena’s hands smoothing over his head wings with gentle care, Apollo brushing light fingers over his ankles, grounding him. They looked peaceful, almost weightless, as if time itself had finally decided to be kind.

Telemachus nodded, his smile softening. “Okay,” he whispered, setting the game pieces back down with gentle hands. “Okay.”

Odysseus gave his shoulder a squeeze, pride shining in his eyes. “We’ll play later,” he promised. “Right now, I think they need a little more time.”

Telemachus looked back at the three gods, his eyes shining with something like awe. “I’ve never seen him that calm before,” he murmured. “Not since he got here.”

Odysseus followed his gaze, his hand still resting on Telemachus’s shoulder. “Neither have I,” he admitted. “But I think that this is the start of something good.”

Tiresias smiled gently. “It is.” They murmured.

For a long moment, nothing stirred. The three siblings remained close, tangled together in soft touches and steady breathing. Hermes' wings fluttered occasionally, but the motion was soft, gentle, almost content. His eyes remained half-lidded, his breath steady and even.

But then Athena shifted just slightly, her fingers brushing over a particularly stubborn tangle in his head wings. “You always had the messiest feathers,” she murmured, her voice gentle but with a hint of teasing.

Hermes blinked, the fog of comfort lifting just enough for him to process her words. He huffed, the sound more breath than laugh, but it was real. “Only ‘cause you always messed with them,” he murmured back, his voice soft but stronger than it had been before.

Apollo chuckled, his hands pausing on Hermes' ankle wings. “I think it was all you, Herms,” he agreed, his tone lightening. “Remember that time you got tangled in that bramble patch? Took us hours to get you free. We had to call in Artemis and Demeter to get you out.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he shifted just slightly, still tucked into Athena’s arms but more present now. “That wasn’t my fault,” he protested softly. “That deer led me right through it.”

Athena snorted, her fingers gently untangling another knot. “And who was the one who decided to chase it? It certainly wasn’t me.”

Hermes' wings twitched, and he let out a soft, genuine laugh. “I couldn’t help it. I wanted to see where it would go.”

Apollo laughed along with him, his hands resuming their gentle strokes over the feathers. “And where it went was straight into a thicket.” He shook his head, his smile growing. “You were stuck for ages. I thought Athena was going to lose her mind.”

Athena rolled her eyes, though her hands never faltered in their gentle work. “Only because you wouldn’t stop squirming.” She glanced down at Hermes, her smile softening. “You’ve always been restless, Featherhead.”

Hermes shifted, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing as he leaned into her touch. “Not anymore,” he whispered, his voice small but sure. “Not right now.”

Athena’s hands stilled for just a moment before resuming, her fingers moving slower, more deliberate. “Good,” she replied softly. “That’s good.”

Hermes remained nestled between them, his breath slow and even, his wings finally resting without tremor. 

From across the room, Telemachus had been watching with bright eyes, his hands still resting on the game pieces scattered across the low table. He bit his lip, glancing back at his parents, who gave him encouraging nods, Penelope’s smile gentle and warm.

Telemachus straightened up, brushing his hands over his tunic nervously before stepping forward. His footsteps were soft, barely making a sound on the stone floor. He approached slowly, pausing just a few feet away from the trio.

“Um…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. Three pairs of eyes turned to him, curious and warm. Telemachus swallowed, rubbing his hands together. “Would you like to…keep playing?”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving the faintest flutter, and he glanced back at Athena, then at Apollo. Athena raised an eyebrow, a small smile touching her lips. “What do you think, Little Wing?” she asked softly, her hand still brushing through his curls.

Hermes hesitated, his gaze flickering back to the low table where the game pieces lay scattered. “I…don’t know,” he whispered, voice fragile. His wings twitched, and Apollo’s hand gently brushed over the feathers in a slow, grounding stroke.

Telemachus stepped forward just a bit, his smile soft and kind. “It doesn’t have to be for long,” he murmured, his eyes full of understanding. “Just a few rounds. We could even team up if you want.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, and his gaze dropped to the floor. Athena’s hand moved to cup the back of his head, her thumb brushing over his curls. “You don’t have to,” she whispered, her voice full of certainty. “Only if you’re ready.”

Hermes was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor. His wings gave a soft flutter, and his fingers twitched at his sides. But then he took a breath, steady, deliberate, and looked up. “Maybe just a few rounds,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Telemachus’s face lit up with delight, his hands clasping together eagerly. “I’ll go set it up!” he chirped, and he hurried back to the low table, quickly righting the game pieces, his movements full of energy and light.

Hermes watched him go, his wings stilling for a moment. Athena’s hand remained steady on his shoulder. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, her voice full of nothing but support.

Hermes looked back at her, his eyes shining with something fragile but real. He nodded, just barely. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m sure.”

Apollo squeezed his shoulder gently, his smile brightening. “I’m with you,” he murmured. “We’ll take him down together.”

Hermes blinked, his wings twitching with what could almost be called excitement. He straightened up, still pressed into Athena’s side, but there was lightness in his eyes now, a hint of mischief lighting in his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady.

Athena smiled, her hands brushing over his head wings one last time before she gently untangled her arms from him. She helped him up slowly, steadying him as he found his footing. Apollo stood alongside them, his hand never leaving Hermes' shoulder.

Together, the three of them moved back to the low table, settling onto the cushions Telemachus had arranged for them. He grinned wide, excitement bubbling in his eyes. “I shuffled the pieces,” he announced proudly. “You can even pick your own if you want!”

Hermes blinked, glancing down at the pieces laid out neatly before him. His hand hovered over them, hesitating just for a moment, before finally picking one up. It felt light in his hands, familiar. His wings fluttered softly, and he managed a small, genuine smile.

Athena and Apollo exchanged glances, both of them settling beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Telemachus clapped his hands together, beaming. “Alright!” he chirped. “Prepare to lose.”

Apollo snorted, leaning back against the cushions. “We’ll see about that, Little Wolf.”

Hermes' smile grew, just a little, and he set his game piece down with a gentle click. “I think you’re going down this time,” he murmured, voice stronger than before.

Telemachus gasped, hand flying to his chest dramatically. “Oh, you think so?” he asked, eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering faintly. “I know so.”

The game settled into an easy rhythm, pieces clattering softly on the low wooden table. Telemachus had the brightest grin on his face, his eyes glimmering with excitement as he and Apollo traded jabs back and forth. Athena watched with a raised brow, her lips twitching with every teasing quip Apollo threw back at him. Hermes sat nestled between his siblings, his wings twitching faintly, but his smile was real, maybe a little hesitant, but real.

Telemachus leaned forward, making a particularly bold move with his game piece. He flashed Hermes a grin. “You’re getting rusty, Hermes,” he teased, his voice light and playful. “I thought you were supposed to be the speedy one.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering just slightly. He glanced down at the board, lips parting as if to respond, but the words didn’t quite make it out. Telemachus didn’t seem to notice. He leaned back, crossing his arms with a triumphant smile. “Maybe I should start delivering messages instead of you!”

Hermes flinched. His hands pulled back from the game board, fingers curling into his lap. His wings twitched, feathers bristling, and the smile slipped from his face like water running off stone. His breath quickened, his gaze dropping to his hands.

The shift was instant. Athena’s eyes sharpened, her hand immediately moving to settle over his, brushing her thumb across his knuckles. “Easy,” she murmured, voice low and soothing. “I’ve got you, Little Wing.”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings stilling under her touch. His gaze flickered up to hers, wide and searching. “Th-Thethe?” he whispered, voice cracking.

Athena smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Right here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

Apollo moved closer, his hand finding its place at Hermes' ankle, fingers brushing against the soft feathers. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft and gentle. “We’ve got you, Herms.” His tone was full of certainty, unyielding and steady. “Right here. With us.”

Hermes' breathing slowed, his wings giving a faint flutter. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze dropping to where their hands held his, grounding him. His wings, still trembling, began to still under their steady touch.

Telemachus’s grin had faltered, his eyes wide with worry. “I-I didn’t mean to–” he started, voice cracking, but Athena raised her hand, a gentle smile on her face.

“It’s alright, Little Wolf,” she said, her tone patient but firm. “Maybe we keep off the teasing for now, yeah?”

Telemachus’s face softened with understanding, and he nodded, his shoulders dropping with relief. “Of course,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

From his place by the fire, Tiresias had started to move, hands bracing the edge of the chair as if to stand. But before they could, Penelope reached out, resting a hand on their arm. “He’s okay,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure. Tiresias paused, turning his head towards her, brows knitting together.

Penelope’s hand remained firm, her voice steady and warm. “They’ve got him,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the three gods huddled together. Athena’s hand was still curled around Hermes', Apollo’s still brushing his ankle wings in slow, grounding strokes. The tension in Hermes' shoulders had eased, his breathing evening out, his wings finally stilling.

Tiresias hesitated for just a moment, sensing the tension dissolving back into comfort, before nodding slowly, a smile growing at the corners of their lips. “I suppose they do,” he murmured back, settling back into his seat, hands folding in their lap.

Penelope watched with a smile that grew brighter and warmer with every passing second. “I think he’s going to be just fine,” she whispered.

Tiresias tilted their head back toward the fire, their expression peaceful. “I think you’re right.”

The game resumed with a slower, gentler rhythm. Telemachus was careful now, his movements soft and deliberate, his eyes flickering to Hermes every now and then to make sure he was alright. And Hermes, still nestled between his siblings, began to breathe a little easier, his wings fluttering only slightly, his hand still held firmly in Athena’s.

The game resumed with a quiet kind of warmth. The pieces clicked softly against the wooden surface, and Telemachus leaned forward with a smile that was a little softer now, a little more careful. He moved his piece deliberately, his eyes flickering to Hermes before speaking. “Your turn, Hermes,” he murmured, his voice light and encouraging.

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering faintly. He looked down at the board, his hand hovering over the piece. For a heartbeat, he hesitated, his fingers shaking just slightly.

Athena’s hand moved to his shoulder, her touch firm and grounding. “You’ve got this, Little Wing,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet certainty.

Hermes glanced up at her, and her eyes were steady, filled with that unyielding strength she always seemed to carry. He took a breath, his wings fluttering once, twice, and then he nodded. His hand settled over the piece, fingers closing around it carefully, and with a soft click, he placed it forward.

Apollo leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest with a dramatic huff. “I’ve been waiting to take you down.” He teased, gently testing the waters.

Hermes' wings flared just slightly, and he glanced up, his eyes sparkling with the faintest hint of mischief. “You’ll be waiting a long time, Polly,” he shot back, voice stronger than before.

Apollo raised his eyebrows, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh? Is that a challenge?”

Hermes shrugged, his wings giving a playful flick. “Only if you’re brave enough to take it.”

Telemachus snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. “He got you there,” he mumbled through his fingers, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

Athena, who had been watching the exchange with a smile, leaned back, stretching her arms behind her head. “I don’t know, Polly,” she mused, her tone teasing. “You sure you can keep up with our Little Wing?”

Apollo’s jaw dropped, and he turned to her with wide eyes. “You too?” he demanded, his hand over his heart in mock offense. “Since when did you join his team?”

Athena shrugged, unbothered. “Since I got here,” she replied smoothly. Her hand dropped back to Hermes' shoulder, squeezing gently. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

Hermes laughed, soft and real, and his wings fluttered happily. For a moment, it was like the storm had never happened, like the shadows of fear hadn’t touched them. They were just siblings, crowded around a game board, teasing and playing like the world outside didn’t matter.

Across the room, Penelope watched with a hand over her heart, her eyes shining with quiet pride. She leaned into Odysseus, her voice soft. “Look at them,” she whispered, her smile wide and bright. “It’s…it’s like they’re children again.”

Odysseus’s gaze remained fixed on the trio, his smile growing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this,” he murmured. “Not even in stories.”

Penelope leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes never leaving the scene. “It’s good for him,” she whispered. “For all of them.”

Tiresias nodded. “They all need this.”

Hermes' wings fluttered excitedly as he made another play, the smile on his face stronger now, his shoulders straightening, his voice brightening with each passing turn. And when Telemachus teased him again, softer this time, gentler, Hermes only laughed, shaking his head. “I guess you’ll have to work harder than that,” he quipped, voice light and clear.

Athena leaned back with a grin. “That’s my Little Wing,” she murmured, pride shining in her eyes.

Apollo nudged him playfully, his hand brushing his shoulder. “I hope you’re ready for round two.”

Hermes only smiled, his wings fluttering in excitement. “Bring it on.”

Hermes' breath evened out, and with a small smile, he moved his piece forward. The soft click of wood against wood seemed to settle something in the room.

Telemachus raised his eyebrows. “Not bad,” he said with an approving nod. “But I’m not gonna go easy on you.” His grin grew wider, and Apollo chuckled, leaning back against the cushions.

“Oh, I wouldn’t, Little Wolf,” Apollo teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hermes might be rusty, but he’s still faster than you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered with a bit more enthusiasm, and he shot Apollo a playful glare. “I’m not rusty,” he protested softly. “I’m just…relearning.”

Athena’s hand rubbed gentle circles over his back, her smile growing. “And doing just fine,” she added.

They played for a while, the pieces clicking softly against the wooden board, the fire crackling gently in the hearth. Bit by bit, the tension seemed to bleed away, replaced with soft laughter and playful jabs. Hermes' wings even fluttered excitedly when he managed to win a round, much to Telemachus’s dramatic dismay.

“Not bad, Herms,” Apollo teased, nudging Hermes' shoulder. “Maybe you didn’t forget everything after all.”

Hermes' smile grew, his eyes brightening with that familiar spark. “You were saying something about collecting wins earlier, Polly?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Apollo gasped, clutching his heart with mock offense. “You wound me, Hermes!” he exclaimed, falling back against the cushions dramatically. “Such cruelty!”

Athena rolled her eyes, but her smile never wavered. “Hermes, you’ve been back five minutes and already you’ve got Apollo throwing tantrums,” she teased. “I guess you really are back.”

Hermes laughed, the sound light and free. His wings fluttered with a bit more confidence, and he nudged Apollo’s shoulder. “Guess you’ll have to try harder if you want that win,” he said, voice playful.

Apollo sat back up, his grin spreading. “Oh, it’s on, Featherbrain,” he shot back, his eyes glimmering.

Hermes' wings flared just slightly, and he shot his brother a look of playful indignation. “Featherbrain?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mock offense.

“Absolutely,” Apollo replied smoothly, his grin unyielding. “And I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

Hermes opened his mouth to reply, but a loud crash of thunder cut him off. It rolled over the hills, shaking the windows and sending a shiver through the stone walls. Hermes flinched hard, his wings snapping shut, and Apollo stiffened beside him, his shoulders hunching instinctively.

Without hesitation, Athena’s hand moved to Hermes' shoulder, squeezing firmly. Her other hand reached out, brushing against Apollo’s arm, grounding him. “It’s just a storm,” she murmured, her voice low and certain. “Just a little noise. We’re right here.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings still quivering, but his breath began to steady. “I know,” he whispered, his voice thin but real. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide and shining with something fragile. “I know.”

Apollo relaxed as well, his breath coming out in a shaky laugh. “Guess I’m still jumpy,” he admitted softly.

Athena’s smile softened, and she rubbed her thumb in slow circles over his arm. “That’s alright,” she replied. “We’ve got you.”

Telemachus had gone quiet, his hands stilling over the game pieces, his eyes wide with concern. But at the sight of Athena grounding them both so easily, his shoulders relaxed. He smiled, softer this time, and nudged the board forward. “Well,” he said, his voice gentle but bright, “are you going to let me win by default, or do I get a real match?”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering just slightly, and a small smile crept back onto his face. “You wish,” he replied, his voice stronger now. He reached out, his hand settling on a game piece, moving it forward with a quiet click.

Apollo leaned back with a grin. “There’s the Hermes I remember,” he murmured.

Hermes' smile grew, and his wings fluttered softly. “Guess I’m still here after all.”

Hermes leaned back after making his move, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grin. “I believe that’s three in a row,” he said, his voice light and just a bit teasing. “I’m not rusty after all.”

Telemachus raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Three in a row?” he repeated, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

Hermes blinked, wings giving a faint twitch. “Oh?” he shot back, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised. “You’re saying you’re just letting me win, then?”

Telemachus chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair. “I mean,” he began with a grin, “I thought I’d go easy on you. You know, since it’s been, what, a century since you’ve played?”

Hermes' wings flared just slightly, but his smile remained. “I think you’ve just been going easy on yourself,” he replied smoothly, nudging his game piece forward with a soft click. “Not my fault if you’re falling behind.”

Telemachus snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he shot back, his voice growing just a bit bolder. “But I guess Hermes, God of Getting Stuck in Storms, has to win somewhere, right?”

The room went still for just a heartbeat. Hermes' wings twitched, and his fingers paused over the board. His smile faltered, just a fraction, but enough for Athena’s eyes to narrow. Her hand moved to rest gently on his back, her fingers brushing in slow, deliberate circles.

Apollo cleared his throat, a bit more forcefully than necessary. “I don’t know, Little Wolf,” he said, his voice carrying just a hint of warning. “If I remember correctly, Hermes was beating all of us before you were even old enough to hold a game piece.”

Telemachus blinked, realizing the shift in tone. He straightened up, his smile turning sheepish. “Sorry,” he murmured, his eyes flickering to Hermes. “I didn’t mean–”

Hermes, who had been staring at the game pieces with a flicker of unease, took a breath. His wings gave a soft flutter, and he looked back up, his smile returning, softer this time, but real. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice just a little thin. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”

Telemachus visibly relaxed, his smile returning with relief. “Good, ‘cause I was just getting started,” he said with a grin, though his voice was a bit gentler this time.

Athena’s hand remained on Hermes' back, her touch steady and grounding. “Not too much, Little Wolf,” she murmured, her tone firm but kind. “Hermes doesn’t need another storm.”

Telemachus nodded, his grin softening with understanding. “Right,” he agreed. “Just good fun.” He reached for his game piece, moving it with a dramatic flourish. “And speaking of fun, I win.”

Hermes blinked, staring down at the board with wide eyes. “What?”

Telemachus’s grin widened, and he leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “I told you I wasn’t going easy on you,” he quipped.

Hermes' wings fluttered in surprise, and he sat back with a huff. “Alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Apollo chuckled, nudging Hermes with his elbow. “That’s the spirit, you little whirlwind,” he teased gently, his grin bright and full of warmth. “Don’t let the kid show you up.”

Hermes blinked, and then a soft laugh slipped past his lips. “Whirlwind, huh?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

Athena grinned, brushing her hand over his back one more time. “I thought it was fitting,” she replied smoothly. “Considering the way you used to tear through the palace.”

Hermes huffed, his wings giving a playful flutter. “I wasn’t that bad.”

Apollo snorted. “You absolutely were.”

Telemachus watched the exchange with wide eyes and a growing smile, and then, emboldened by the lightness in the room, he leaned forward again. “Well, if he was that fast, maybe he should try to catch me,” he challenged, his grin wide.

Hermes blinked, his wings stilling just slightly. “Catch you?” he repeated, his voice softening.

Telemachus nodded, practically bouncing in place. “If you’re so fast, think you can keep up?”

There was a flicker of something in Hermes' eyes, an instinct, maybe, or a memory of when that would have been the easiest thing in the world. But the flicker died just as quickly, and his wings curled tighter against his calves. His eyes dropped back to the floor, and he shook his head slowly. “I…not right now,” he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear.

Telemachus shrugged, unbothered. “That’s okay, maybe later!”

“Yeah…later,” Hermes grinned.

Telemachus grinned back. “And when you’re ready, I’m definitely still gonna outrun you!”

Hermes blinked, and a soft laugh slipped out, small but real. “We’ll see,” he murmured, his wings fluttering just a little.

Telemachus grinned, leaning back with a dramatic sigh. “I guess you’re still good at this,” he admitted with a playful huff. “But don’t think I’m going easy on you!”

Hermes' smile grew just a bit, and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t want you to,” he murmured back. His wings fluttered, just slightly, but there was no fear behind it, just the faintest hint of energy, of lightness.

Apollo leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I don’t know, Telemachus,” he drawled with a grin. “You might want to take it easy. I’ve seen him wipe the floor with people who thought they were unbeatable.”

Hermes blinked, his wings twitching in surprise. “You remember that?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a thread of disbelief.

Apollo chuckled, nodding. “Of course I do. I watched you hustle half of Olympus and then stroll off like it was nothing.” He tilted his head, his grin widening. “You think I’ve forgotten how you once scammed Ares out of his favorite helmet?”

Hermes blinked, a smile tugging at his lips. “He shouldn’t have bet against me,” he replied, voice a little stronger, a little brighter.

Telemachus’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open. “You scammed Ares?” he asked, voice full of awe. “How did you even–?”

“Very carefully,” Athena cut in, her eyes twinkling with fondness. Her hand rubbed gentle circles on Hermes' back. “You should have seen it. One minute Ares was laughing, the next he was storming off without his helmet and Hermes was nowhere to be found.”

Hermes huffed a soft laugh, his wings fluttering in small, gentle motions. “I gave it back,” he murmured, his voice warm with nostalgia. “Eventually.”

Apollo snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only after Zeus ordered you to.”

The name dropped like a stone in the middle of the room. The warmth of the fire seemed to flicker for just a moment, and Hermes flinched, his wings curling inward instinctively. His gaze dropped to the game board, hands curling in his lap.

Immediately, Athena’s hand firmed on his shoulder, grounding and steady. Her voice softened, dropping to a whisper. “You’re here, Little Wing,” she murmured. “Right here with us. He’s not.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings trembling just slightly before they settled back against his calves. “I know,” he whispered, though his voice cracked just slightly. “I know.”

Apollo’s eyes softened, and his hand moved to rest gently over Hermes' ankle, brushing his thumb in slow circles. “I’m sorry, Herms,” he murmured, his voice full of genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to–”

Hermes shook his head quickly, a soft, almost embarrassed smile playing on his lips. “It’s fine,” he said, though his voice was thin. “I’m…fine.”

Athena’s hand didn’t move, her touch steady and unyielding. “Take your time,” she whispered, her gaze softening. “We’re right here.”

Hermes nodded, his wings giving a gentle flutter, and when he looked back up at the board, the tension had eased from his shoulders, just a little, but enough.

Telemachus, still watching with wide eyes, swallowed and leaned forward, his smile returning. “So, how did you scam Ares?” he asked, his voice soft but eager. “I have to know.”

Hermes blinked, and this time, his smile grew just a little. “It’s a long story,” he replied, his voice gaining strength.

Telemachus grinned, settling back with a satisfied nod. “I’ve got time,” he chirped.

Apollo chuckled, and Athena’s hand finally eased from Hermes' shoulder, though her presence still lingered nearby, like a safety net. “I guess we do too,” Apollo agreed.

Apollo snorted from his place beside Hermes, leaning back on his elbows. “Hermes was always good at getting under people’s skin, particularly Ares.”

Athena smirked, settling back against the cushions. “That’s putting it lightly,” she murmured, crossing her arms over her chest. “I still remember the look on Ares’ face when he realized his favorite helmet was gone. I thought he was going to tear Olympus apart.”

Hermes chuckled softly, his wings giving a light flutter. “I didn’t even try that hard,” he murmured, his voice gaining a bit more confidence. “I just convinced him that Hephaestus had upgraded his armor.”

Telemachus’s eyes went wide. “You lied to him?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

Hermes raised an eyebrow, a bit of his old spark shining through. “I strategically withheld certain truths,” he corrected with a grin.

Athena rolled her eyes. “You lied,” she replied smoothly. “You told him Hephaestus had enhanced it with a charm that made it invisible.”

Telemachus’s jaw dropped, and he covered his mouth with his hands to stifle his laughter. “And he believed you?”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, and he shrugged, a tiny grin playing on his lips. “He was a bit eager to believe me,” he said. “All it took was a little convincing and some very strategic flattery.”

Apollo laughed, shaking his head. “I think he strutted around Olympus for two hours before someone finally asked him why he wasn’t wearing it.”

Telemachus gasped, unable to contain his laughter. “You’re kidding,” he managed between breaths.

Hermes grinned, his wings flaring out just a bit. “I’m really not.”

The room erupted into soft laughter, the tension melting away for just a moment. Athena’s hand brushed gently over Hermes' shoulder, and Apollo gave his ankle wing a soft pat. Hermes relaxed, the firelight reflecting in his eyes, brighter than it had been all morning.

But then Telemachus’s laughter softened, and his gaze grew a bit more serious. “You must have had a lot of fun up there,” he murmured, his voice softening. “On Olympus.”

The room went still, the fire crackling in the silence. Hermes' wings fluttered, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “It…yeah,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes.”

Telemachus didn’t seem to notice the change in atmosphere. He leaned forward, his eyes wide and curious. “Did you ever…you know…miss it?” he asked, his tone gentle. “Being up there with your family?”

Hermes flinched, his gaze dropping. Athena’s hand was on him in an instant, firm and grounding. “Telemachus,” she said gently, her voice carrying a warning.

Telemachus blinked, glancing around the room. “Oh,” he murmured, his eyes going wide with realization.

Athena’s hand rubbed gentle circles over his back, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t have to answer that, Little Wing,” she murmured. “Not now.”

Hermes took a slow, shaky breath, and nodded. “I miss parts of it. My siblings, my room, my things. But it was always stuffy. The air was too thick with ego. Too many gods and goddesses, not enough sky. I’ve always liked the mortal realm better.”

Athena nodded. “Parts of Olympus are great. But it’s not as great as some make it seem. Grand? Sure. But great?” She shrugs.

Telemachus nodded, deciding not to push anymore, and eventually, the game resumed, slow and gentle. And for now, that was enough.

While the four were busy playing their game, Penelope and Tiresias left to get more food for the group, knowing that they were starting to get hungry.

Telemachus made a dramatic gesture as he placed his game piece forward. “And that,” he declared, “is how you completely obliterate a god.”

Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, Little Wolf.”

Hermes chuckled, leaning back with a grin. “He’s not half bad,” he murmured, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I might be in trouble.”

Telemachus beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. “You know it!”

The banter continued, light and easy, but after a while, Hermes' gaze started to drift. He shifted a bit on the cushions, his wings rustling against the fabric. His eyes flickered around the room, first to the fire crackling warmly in the hearth, then to the tall windows where rain still drizzled softly against the glass.

His brow furrowed. He sat up a little straighter. “Where…?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His wings fluttered, a touch more erratic.

Athena, who had been watching the game with mild amusement, turned her gaze to him. “What is it, Little Wing?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Hermes blinked, his eyes flickering around the room again. “Where’s…where’s Tiresias?” he asked softly.

Apollo straightened up, glancing around as well. “Weren’t they just…?” He paused, his gaze landing on the empty chair near the fire. His brow furrowed. “I thought–”

Odysseus glanced over at the gods. “Oh! Penelope and Tiresias went to get food,” he said casually. “Said something about making sure we were all fed.”

Hermes' wings fluttered sharply, his gaze snapping to the king. “They left?”

Telemachus nodded, seeming unbothered. “Yeah. Not long ago. I think you were busy destroying my game piece,” he added with a grin.

Hermes didn’t smile. His wings flickered restlessly, and his hands curled slightly in his lap. “They left?” he repeated, his voice smaller now. “They…he left?”

Athena’s hand moved to his shoulder instantly, grounding him. “He just went to get food,” she said gently, her voice calm and even. “They’ll be back any moment.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes flickering toward the door. “But I didn’t…I didn’t hear them leave,” he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly. His wings fluttered, erratic and sharp. “I didn’t…he didn’t say…”

Apollo’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward, resting his hand over Hermes'. “They’ll be back soon, Herms,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “He probably didn’t want to interrupt the game.”

Hermes' breathing picked up just slightly, his wings twitching in rapid flutters. “But I didn’t see him go. I didn’t…” His eyes darted around the room, landing on the empty chair near the fire, the one where Tiresias had been sitting. “They didn’t say anything,” he whispered.

Athena’s grip on his shoulder firmed, her hand moving in gentle circles. “Hermes,” she said softly, her voice unyielding. “He’ll be back. You’re safe. They’re safe. They’re just getting food.”

But Hermes didn’t seem to hear her. His eyes flickered back to the door, wide and unblinking. “But I didn’t hear him leave,” he repeated, his wings flaring out slightly. “What if they? What if something happens? What if–?”

Apollo’s hand covered his entirely, grounding and warm. “Hey, hey,” he murmured gently. “Look at me.”

Hermes blinked, his gaze flickering to Apollo’s face. His wings continued to tremble, his breathing still too quick.

“They’re fine,” Apollo said firmly, his eyes steady. “They’re with Penelope. You know she wouldn’t let anything happen to Tiresias.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his gaze still darting toward the door. “But…he didn’t say anything,” he whispered again.

Athena’s hand brushed gently over his head wings, smoothing down the trembling feathers. “Sometimes people leave quietly, Little Wing,” she murmured, her voice warm and soothing. “But it doesn’t mean they aren’t coming back.”

Hermes' breathing slowed, just a fraction. His wings fluttered one last time before curling back against his ankles. He nodded slowly, but his gaze never left the door. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay.”

But the tension never quite left his shoulders, and his hands remained tightly knotted in his lap, his gaze flickering to the door every few moments, waiting, watching.

The room settled back into its uneasy quiet, the game pieces still resting on the board, though no one seemed to be paying much attention to them anymore. Telemachus drummed his fingers absently against the edge of the table, glancing back and forth between Hermes and the door with a nervous kind of energy.

Hermes' wings fluttered restlessly, his gaze fixed firmly on the door. His hands were knotted tightly in his lap, fingers curling and uncurling around the fabric of his tunic. Every now and then, he would glance back at Apollo or Athena, his eyes wide and anxious, searching for reassurance that never seemed to fully settle.

“They’ll be back any moment,” Apollo murmured gently, his hand covering Hermes' own. His thumb rubbed slow, steady circles against the back of Hermes' hand, grounding and warm. “You know Penelope. She probably stopped to make sure everything was perfect.”

Hermes nodded, though the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. His wings fluttered again, the motion sharp and anxious. “I just didn’t hear them leave,” he kept repeating, his voice cracking just slightly.

Athena’s hand settled back on his shoulder, her touch firm and steady. “They probably didn’t want to disturb you, Little Wing,” she soothed, brushing her hand in gentle circles over his back. “You were laughing. I’m sure he wanted to let you keep enjoying yourself.”

Hermes blinked, his gaze flickering back to the door. “I just…I don’t know why I didn’t…” His wings flared again, trembling slightly at the tips. “What if…what if something happened?”

Apollo’s hand squeezed his gently. “Penelope is with them,” he reminded him, his voice soft but resolute. “You know she wouldn’t let anything happen.”

Hermes nodded again, though his wings didn’t still. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the door like if he watched long enough, Tiresias would simply appear. “It’s just…they should be back by now, right?” he asked, his voice growing smaller, more fragile. “It’s been a while.”

Telemachus glanced at the window, then back at Hermes, his brow furrowing. “Maybe I should go look?” he offered, his voice soft and uncertain.

Before anyone could respond, Odysseus, who had been sitting quietly by the fire, set his cup down with a soft clink. His eyes were steady and understanding, and he stood with the kind of careful deliberation that spoke of gentle patience. “I’ll go,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll find them and bring them back.”

Hermes blinked, his gaze snapping to Odysseus. “Please?”

Odysseus smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t mind,” he replied smoothly. “Besides, I could use a little stretch of the legs. And I know Penelope; she’s probably caught up talking someone’s ear off.” He gave Hermes a warm, reassuring look. “I’ll bring them back.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings still fluttering restlessly, but he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice soft and fragile. “Okay.”

Odysseus nodded back, firm and certain. “I’ll be quick.” He shot Athena and Apollo a knowing look, his eyes carrying an unspoken understanding, and they nodded in silent agreement.

Odysseus crossed the room with quiet steps, and just before he opened the door, he glanced back, offering one more warm, steady smile. “I’ll be right back, Hermes,” he promised, his voice gentle. “With both of them.”

Hermes watched him go, his eyes wide and unblinking, his wings still flickering restlessly at his sides. When the door shut with a soft click, the silence returned, heavier now, weighted with anticipation.

Apollo’s hand never left his, and Athena’s steady grip remained firm on his shoulder. Telemachus shifted in his seat, glancing between them with a cautious kind of worry. “He’ll be back soon,” Telemachus murmured, his voice soft and hopeful. “With both of them.”

Hermes took a slow, shaky breath, but the tension didn’t leave his shoulders. His wings remained tight. He leaned forward, elbows pressed into his knees, his eyes locked on the door with a kind of intensity that made the room feel smaller, the walls pressing in. His wings fluttered restlessly at his ankles, the feathers quivering with every slight movement. He hadn’t spoken since Odysseus left, his breath coming in soft, uneven bursts.

Apollo sat close, his hand never leaving Hermes', fingers threaded through his in a grounding grip. His thumb brushed slow, rhythmic circles over Hermes' knuckles, but the tension in Hermes' body didn’t ease. If anything, it grew tighter, wound taut like a string about to snap.

“They’ll be back soon,” Apollo murmured gently, his voice steady and low. “He’s probably already found them and is just getting them back here.”

Hermes nodded, though his gaze never wavered from the door. His wings flickered, the feathers shivering with each breath. “I just…they should be back by now,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I don’t know why they’re not back.”

Apollo squeezed his hand gently. “Hey, Herms,” he whispered, voice softening. “Look at me.”

Hermes blinked, his eyes snapping away from the door to meet Apollo’s gaze. His wings still fluttered, restless and anxious.

“They’re coming back,” Apollo said firmly, his voice low and grounding. “Odysseus won’t let anything happen. You know that.”

Hermes swallowed, nodding slowly. His wings gave another tremble, and he tore his gaze away from Apollo, glancing back at the door with a growing urgency. His fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic, gripping it tightly. “I should…I should go find them,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “I should–”

Athena’s hand firmed on his back instantly. “You don’t have to,” she said gently, her voice steady. “They’re coming back. You’re safe.”

Hermes' wings flared out just slightly, and he shook his head. “But I should check,” he murmured, his voice gaining a thread of desperation. “What if…what if something happened?”

Apollo’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing slow, deliberate circles against Hermes' knuckles. “They’re fine, Herms,” he said, his voice unyielding. “They’re fine.”

Hermes blinked, his gaze flickering back and forth between the door and Apollo’s eyes. “But I–”

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” Athena interjected softly, her hand pressing firm and steady against his back. “You’re here. They’re coming back.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings flickering restlessly. His hands twisted tighter in his lap, and he shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t like this,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t like not knowing.”

Athena’s touch softened, her hand brushing gentle circles along his back. “I know,” she murmured, her voice low and steady. “But they’ll be back. We promise.”

Telemachus, who had been silent up to this point, looked up, his gaze full of concern. “Do you…do you want me to go check?” he offered, his voice tentative. “I can find them if you want.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, sharper this time, and he opened his mouth like he was about to say yes, but Athena’s hand squeezed gently on his shoulder. “You don’t have to go anywhere,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time. “All three of them are safe. They’ll be back.”

Hermes' wings trembled, his gaze flickering back to the door with that same sharp intensity. His breathing picked up, just slightly, and Apollo leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Stay here with us,” he murmured gently. “You’re not alone.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings giving another desperate flutter. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice thin and fragile. “Okay.”

A soft creak echoed from the hallway, a floorboard settling, perhaps, or the distant sound of footsteps. Hermes flinched violently, his wings snapping out with a sharp, frantic flick. His breath hitched, and his eyes went wide, his gaze darting back and forth.

Apollo squeezed his hand immediately, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Hey, hey, it’s just the floor,” he soothed, his voice gentle but firm. “Just the house settling.”

Hermes blinked, his wings still fluttering, but his gaze remained locked on the doorway. “What if…what if someone’s here?” he whispered, his voice thin and cracking. “What if…what if they got my Starlight?”

Athena’s hand moved to his back instantly, her grip firm and grounding. “There’s no one here, Little Wing,” she said softly, her voice unyielding. “Just us. Just family.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back to her. “But I didn’t, I didn’t hear them leave,” he whispered, his wings trembling. “What if…what if someone took them? What if…”

Apollo squeezed his hand again, brushing his thumb over Hermes' knuckles in slow, deliberate circles. “No one took them,” he promised, his voice steady. “Odysseus is with them, remember? He’s probably already found them by now.”

Hermes' gaze flickered back to the door, unblinking. “But what if…” He trailed off, his voice thinning. His wings fluttered sharply, brushing against the cushions. “What if someone got to them first?”

Athena’s hand firmed on his shoulder. “No one is going to hurt him,” she murmured. “Odysseus wouldn’t let that happen.” Her hand rubbed slow, grounding circles over his back, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tremor in his wings.

Telemachus watched with wide eyes, his hands stilling over the game pieces. “They’ll be back,” he said softly, his voice full of hope. “They’ll be back any minute.”

Hermes nodded, but his wings still fluttered, his gaze never leaving the door. His breathing was quick and shallow, his hands twisting in his lap. “I just…I just need to see them,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I need to, I need to see that they’re–”

A sound.

Footsteps. A shuffle, quiet and soft, but enough to make Hermes flinch so hard his wings snapped out entirely. He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands shaking. “Who’s there?” he whispered, his voice thin and trembling.

Apollo’s hand moved to his back, steady and grounding. “It’s them,” he said softly, his voice warm and certain. “It’s them, Herms.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering frantically. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his eyes wide and desperate. “Are you sure it’s them?”

The door creaked open slowly, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. Hermes' breath caught in his throat, his wings trembling violently, his hands going white-knuckled against the cushions.

And then–

“Tiresias?”

Tiresias stood in the doorway, framed by the flickering firelight, Penelope just behind them with a basket of bread and fresh fruit. Tiresias’s head tilted slightly at the sound of Hermes' voice, and a gentle smile spread across their face. “I’m here, sweet bird,” they murmured, their voice soft and warm. “I’m right here.”

Hermes didn’t hesitate. He was up in an instant, wings flaring out behind him as he rushed across the room. His footsteps were quick and unsteady, but he didn’t stop, didn’t falter until he collided with Tiresias, arms wrapping tightly around their middle, wings flaring protectively.

“T-Tiresias,” he breathed, his voice cracking with raw relief. His hands fisted in the fabric of their cloak, holding on like if he let go, Tiresias might disappear again. “You’re…you’re here.”

Tiresias’s hands moved immediately to his back, brushing over the trembling wings with slow, grounding strokes. “I’m here, sweet bird,” they murmured, voice unyielding and gentle. “I’m right here. You’re alright.”

Hermes buried his face in their shoulder, his wings still shivering slightly. “I didn’t…I didn’t know where you were,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “I didn’t hear you leave.”

Tiresias’s hands never stopped their gentle paths, soothing the frantic flutter of feathers. “I’m sorry, sweet bird,” he whispered, their voice soft and warm. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Hermes squeezed tighter, his wings folding in around both of them. “I thought…for a moment, I thought…” His breath shuddered, and he shook his head. “I just, I needed to see you.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup the back of his head, their fingers brushing gently over the soft feathers of his head wings. “I’m here,” they soothed, their voice unyielding. “I’m here, little bird. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes finally pulled back, just a bit, his eyes red-rimmed but clear. He took a shuddering breath, his hands still gripping Tiresias’s cloak. “You’re here,” he whispered, his voice cracking with relief. “You’re really here.”

Tiresias smiled, brushing a hand over his cheek. “I’m here, Hermes,” they whispered, their voice soft and steady. “I’m right here.”

Tiresias’s hands remained steady, one brushing over the small head wings with soft, careful strokes, the other cupping the back of Hermes' head. Their touch was gentle but unyielding, grounding him with every soft pass of their fingertips. “You’re alright, sweet bird,” they murmured, their voice low and steady. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Hermes took a shuddering breath, his hands clenching tighter. “I just…I didn’t know where you were,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the edges. “I didn’t hear you leave. I didn’t, and you were just gone.”

Tiresias tilted their head slightly, a look of soft understanding passing over their features. “I’m sorry, sweet bird,” he murmured, his hands moving to brush over the back of his neck in slow, gentle paths. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hermes swallowed hard, nodding against his shoulder. “You didn’t say anything,” he whispered, his voice so small it was nearly lost against the fabric of Tiresias’s cloak. “And I thought what if something happened? What if I wasn’t there?”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cradle the back of his head, thumb brushing slow circles just behind his ear. “I’m alright,” he soothed, their voice warm and unyielding. “I’m right here. Safe and sound.”

Hermes exhaled shakily, his wings giving one last shiver before folding back against his legs. He pulled back just enough to look up at Tiresias, his eyes wide and red-rimmed. “You’re sure?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You’re really okay?”

Tiresias smiled softly, their hands never leaving Hermes' shoulders. “I’m sure, sweet bird,” they replied, their voice carrying the weight of a promise. “I’m right here with you.” Their hand moved, brushing gently over Hermes' cheek, grounding and sure. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes flickering back and forth over Tiresias’s face, searching for any sign of hesitation. He found none. His wings gave the tiniest flutter, and then, with a soft sigh, he leaned back in, curling his head against their shoulder.

Tiresias’s arms came up around him instantly, wrapping him up in a gentle, grounding hold. Their hands rubbed slow, deliberate circles over his back, keeping him tethered, safe. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice like a soft hum. “I’ve got you, sweet bird. I’ve got you.”

Hermes' breath evened out, slow and steady, his hands unclenching just slightly from Tiresias’s cloak. “I’m okay,” he whispered, his voice still thin but stronger. “I’m okay.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, and they pressed a soft kiss to the top of Hermes' head, their hands still moving in gentle paths along his back. “That’s right,” they whispered. “You’re right here. Safe and sound.”

Across the room, Athena and Apollo exchanged glances, their eyes softening with relief. Telemachus, who had been watching with wide eyes, let out a breath he didn’t seem to realize he was holding. He glanced up at Apollo, his voice a whisper. “He’s okay now?”

Apollo smiled, his gaze never leaving his brother. “Yeah,” he murmured. “He will be.”

Penelope stepped forward, her eyes warm with understanding. She placed the basket she’d been carrying on the table, the scent of freshly baked bread and fresh fruit filling the room. “Now,” she said, her voice gentle but bright, “would everyone like to eat?”

Telemachus perked up immediately, his gaze snapping to the table. “Yes!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. “I’m starving!”

Apollo chuckled, ruffling Telemachus’s hair. “I think we all are.” He glanced over at Hermes, his eyes softening. “What do you say, Herms? A little food?”

Hermes blinked, glancing back at Tiresias and then at the spread of food on the table. His wings fluttered softly, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice stronger. “That sounds…nice.”

Penelope’s smile grew, and she began setting the table with practiced grace. “Good,” she said warmly. “We’ve got plenty.”

Notes:

Long chapter for you guys today. I couldn't find a good place to cut it off, so I figured, why not post 8,000 words…oh well.

Hope you enjoyed it!! And, as always, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 51

Summary:

SIBLING TIME!!!

The room eased into a softer rhythm as Penelope set the table, her hands gentle and practiced, laying out warm bread, roasted meat, and a fragrant pot of tea. The soft clatter of dishes and the gentle crackle of the fire filled the space, washing over the earlier tension like a wave retreating from the shore.

Hermes remained close to Tiresias, his wings fluttering every now and then as he stole glances at the table. Tiresias’s hand stayed firmly on his back, rubbing slow, grounding circles, but Hermes' breathing had evened out, his eyes brightening bit by bit.

Penelope smiled warmly as she placed the breadbasket in the center. “Sit, all of you,” she urged, waving a hand at the empty seats. “I’ve made plenty, and I won’t have any of you going hungry.”

Athena nodded in approval, guiding Hermes with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Little Wing,” she murmured softly. “You need to eat.”

Hermes hesitated, his eyes flickering back to Tiresias. Tiresias offered a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s eat, sweet bird,” he whispered, their hand brushing gentle circles over his back. “I’m right here.”

Hermes swallowed, then nodded. Together, they moved to the table, and Hermes settled down, his wings folding neatly against his ankles as he sat. Tiresias took the seat beside him, their hand resting lightly over his for just a moment before releasing.

The meal began quietly, the gentle clatter of silverware and the crackle of the fire filling the room. Penelope served everyone with a practiced grace, her movements smooth and fluid. Hermes accepted a plate of food with a quiet “thank you,” his gaze lingering on the roasted meat and fresh bread before him.

Apollo leaned back in his chair, tearing a hunk of bread with a grin. “Do you remember when Hermes tried to cook for us?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering just slightly. “I wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled, picking at his bread.

Athena snorted, hiding her grin behind her cup of tea. “You nearly set the palace on fire,” she replied smoothly.

Telemachus’s eyes went wide, his gaze snapping to Hermes. “You did?” he asked, his voice full of awe. “I thought gods were supposed to be good at everything!”

Hermes huffed, his wings flicking in mock offense. “Well, clearly I’m the exception,” he replied, his voice softening with warmth. He took a bite of bread, chewing thoughtfully. “Besides, the fire wasn’t that big.”

“It nearly took out the east wing,” Apollo deadpanned, earning a laugh from Athena.

Hermes rolled his eyes, his wings fluttering a bit more boldly now. “And you were no help,” he shot back. “You just sat there and watched me burn the bread!”

Apollo grinned, shrugging shamelessly. “It was the most entertainment I’d had in a century.”

Telemachus giggled, nearly spilling his cup of tea. “I didn’t think gods burned food,” he laughed. “I figured you just…magicked it to taste good.”

Hermes smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Well, maybe some of us like to do things the hard way,” he replied, his wings fluttering with more confidence. “Keeps it interesting.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Interesting is one word for it,” she teased. “I’m still not sure the smell ever came out of the marble.”

Hermes threw her a look, but the edges of his mouth were pulling into a smile. “You exaggerate,” he replied smoothly. “I fixed it.”

“You ran,” Apollo corrected with a grin. “You left me to deal with Father’s wrath.”

Hermes flinched slightly at the mention of Zeus, but Tiresias’s hand settled gently on his knee, grounding and steady. Hermes took a breath, his wings fluttering once before stilling. “Well you’re better at talking your way out of things,” he murmured, his voice soft but fond.

Apollo grinned wider. “I suppose that’s true,” he agreed easily.

The tension eased, bit by bit, and the conversation grew lighter. Telemachus leaned forward eagerly, asking for more stories, his eyes bright and curious. Hermes answered more readily, his wings fluttering with every laugh, the warmth in the room growing stronger with each tale.

As the meal continued, the tension that had knotted itself around the room slowly began to unravel. The fire crackled warmly, casting long shadows that flickered against the walls, and the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat lingered in the air. Hermes was nestled comfortably between Tiresias and Apollo, his wings folded neatly at his ankles, his gaze clearer and more at ease.

Telemachus, emboldened by Hermes' laughter and the warmth of the room, leaned forward, his eyes bright with excitement. “So…what was it like?” he asked, his voice soft but eager. “On Olympus?”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a soft flutter. “What do you mean?”

Telemachus shrugged, glancing back and forth between Athena and Apollo. “I mean…you were all together, right? Living up there with the rest of the gods? That must’ve been amazing!”

Athena stiffened just slightly, her gaze flickering to Hermes, watching his reaction carefully. Apollo did the same, his eyes softening with the faintest trace of concern. But Hermes didn’t flinch. His wings fluttered a little, and he leaned back against his chair, considering the question.

“It was…” he began slowly, his gaze drifting to the fire. “It was different. Loud. Busy.” He paused, his wings flickering with a soft rustle. “There was always something happening.”

Telemachus leaned in, his eyes shining. “What kind of things?” he asked eagerly. “Did you all live in a palace? Like…like the one here?”

Hermes chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Bigger,” he replied. “Much bigger.” His eyes flickered back to Telemachus, and the smallest smile crept onto his lips. “You could fit this entire palace in the west wing alone.”

Telemachus’s mouth dropped open. “No way,” he breathed. “That big?”

Hermes shrugged. “It wasn’t all grand,” he admitted. “A lot of it was…business. Messages to deliver, temples to tend to…” He shrugged. “We were always running around.”

Telemachus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But you got to see everything, right? All of Olympus?”

Hermes nodded, his wings flickering. “Everything,” he replied softly. “The gardens…they stretched out for miles. Dite and Persephone grew flowers from every corner of the world, some you couldn’t even imagine.” His voice grew softer, his eyes drifting off just a bit. “And the towers…they reached up into the clouds. You could stand at the edge and look down on the whole world.”

Telemachus’s eyes grew wide, his grin spreading across his face. “That sounds…that sounds amazing!”

Hermes chuckled, his wings fluttering just slightly. “It was…sometimes.” His gaze flickered back to Apollo and Athena. “There were good days.”

Athena’s eyes softened, and she nodded gently. “There were,” she agreed, her voice softening. “There were good days.”

Telemachus, emboldened by the story, leaned in even further, his eyes glimmering with curiosity. “Did you ever…sneak out? You know…go places you weren’t supposed to?”

Hermes huffed a laugh, and his wings gave a playful flick. “Only all the time,” he replied smoothly.

Apollo laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, he was the worst for that,” he chimed in. “I don’t think there was a single place on Olympus he didn’t break into at least once.”

Athena rolled her eyes, though her smile was fond. “And somehow, you always managed to talk your way out of it,” she added with a grin.

Hermes leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m very convincing,” he replied, his wings fluttering with just a bit of mischief.

Telemachus laughed, bright and genuine. “I wanna hear about that!” he demanded, his eyes shining. “I bet you got into so much trouble!”

Apollo leaned forward before Hermes could answer, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, you have no idea, Little Wolf,” he teased, his voice dropping into the storytelling cadence with ease. “Do you want to know how he managed to sneak into the Spring Festival?”

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly, and he leaned back, his smile softening as he relaxed against Tiresias’s side. “That’s a good one,” he murmured, his eyes shining with just a hint of nostalgia.

Telemachus sat up straighter, his eyes bright with excitement. “Yes!” he chirped, nearly bouncing in his seat. “Tell me!”

Apollo’s grin grew, and he settled back into his chair, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Alright,” he agreed smoothly. “It all started with a goat…and a very unfortunate misunderstanding.”

Hermes laughed softly, the sound warm and real, his wings fluttering against his ankles. Athena chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, this one’s good,” she murmured, leaning back with her arms crossed.

Apollo leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the tabletop as he prepared to spin the tale. Telemachus leaned forward, practically bouncing with excitement, while Athena watched with a bemused smile, occasionally glancing at Hermes to make sure he was still comfortable.

“So,” Apollo began, his voice smooth and confident. “The Spring Festival. One of the biggest celebrations on Olympus. Flowers everywhere, food from every corner of the world, and every god and goddess dressed in their finest. It was supposed to be a formal event, dignified, elegant, all that.”

Telemachus raised an eyebrow. “So…what went wrong?”

Hermes snorted softly, his wings fluttering. “What didn’t go wrong?” he muttered under his breath, and Tiresias gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a hint of amusement softening their features.

Apollo shot Hermes a teasing glare. “Hush, Herms. I’m telling it.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The problem was that Hermes wasn’t technically invited.”

Telemachus blinked. “What? Why not?”

Hermes huffed, leaning back against Tiresias. “Apparently, I’d ‘caused enough mischief’ the week before,” he replied, his tone just a little indignant. “I didn’t mean to break the fountain.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Or the marble walkway,” she added dryly.

Hermes waved a hand dismissively. “It was an accident!”

Apollo shook his head, clearly fighting a smile. “Either way, the invitation didn’t include him. But did that stop Hermes?”

Telemachus grinned. “No way.”

“Exactly!” Apollo replied, snapping his fingers. “So, Hermes comes up with this brilliant plan. If he can’t walk in like everyone else, he’ll just sneak in. But how? The palace was guarded on every side.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, his wings fluttering with a hint of pride. “Easy,” he interjected. “I borrowed a goat.”

Telemachus’s jaw dropped. “A goat?”

Apollo laughed. “Oh, not just any goat. This one belonged to Pan, and it was the most temperamental, stubborn creature you’d ever met. Somehow, Hermes convinced it to let him ride.”

Athena smirked. “And by ‘convinced,’ you mean bribed with an entire basket of fruit.”

Hermes shrugged, his smile growing. “A small price to pay for a good distraction.”

Telemachus looked utterly fascinated. “What did you do?”

Apollo grinned. “He rode that goat right up to the front steps, waving like he was the guest of honor. The guards were so stunned that they just…let him through.”

Hermes huffed, clearly pleased with himself. “They probably thought I was part of the entertainment.”

Athena shook her head, her smile fond. “Until the goat decided it didn’t want to go up the stairs and started bucking like a wild beast. Hermes nearly flew off.”

Telemachus burst out laughing. “Did you fall?”

Hermes scoffed. “Of course not! I have excellent balance.” He glanced at Apollo, his wings giving a smug flick.

Apollo smirked. “Only because I grabbed you before you hit the ground.”

Telemachus wiped a tear from his eye. “What happened to the goat?”

Athena chuckled. “It went tearing through the garden, kicking over flowerpots and trampling half the decorations.”

Hermes winced, his wings folding in. “I might have underestimated its enthusiasm.”

Apollo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Pan wasn’t pleased. He chased Hermes around the courtyard for half an hour before Athena finally intervened.”

Hermes scoffed. “I could’ve handled it.”

Athena raised a brow. “You were hiding behind me.”

Telemachus’s laughter rang through the room, his eyes shining with mirth. “I can’t believe you did that! Did they let you stay at the festival?”

Apollo grinned. “Well, by that point, it was too much trouble to throw him out. Besides, once Hermes starts talking, even the grumpiest gods can’t stay mad.”

Hermes huffed, a little smug. “I have a way with words.”

Telemachus wiped his eyes, still grinning from ear to ear. “I wish I could’ve seen that! You must’ve looked so cool riding in on a goat.”

Hermes' wings fluttered proudly. “Of course I did.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, brushing a thumb over Hermes' hand. “Sounds like quite the entrance, sweet bird,” they murmured.

Hermes turned to them, his eyes warm and bright. “It was…memorable,” he admitted.

Penelope, who had been listening with a fond smile, leaned over to refill Apollo’s cup. “You certainly know how to make an impression,” she teased.

Hermes shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “You only live once,” he quipped.

Apollo shook his head, laughing softly. “Sometimes I wonder how you made it this far.”

Athena huffed, though her smile remained. “Sheer luck.”

Hermes stayed nestled between Tiresias and Apollo, his wings folded neatly at his ankles, his hands resting comfortably in his lap. There was a smile on his lips, soft and genuine, but his eyes had drifted to the fire, his gaze flickering with something far away, something just out of reach.

Apollo noticed first. His hand, which had been resting casually on Hermes' shoulder, tightened just slightly, his gaze flickering to his brother's face. “Hermes?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

Hermes blinked, as if coming back to himself, but the smile was gone. His wings fluttered restlessly against his ankles, and he glanced down at his hands, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his tunic. “I’m alright,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

But Apollo wasn’t convinced. He exchanged a glance with Athena, who had been watching from her place near the fire. Her eyes sharpened, the warmth in them growing just a bit stronger, more protective.

Hermes took a breath, deep and trembling. His hands stilled, and he leaned back just slightly, his gaze drifting back to the fire. “It was good sometimes,” he whispered, his voice so soft it nearly disappeared in the crackling of the flames. “Olympus.”

Athena’s breath caught, and she straightened in her chair. “Hermes…”

Hermes shook his head, his wings giving a fragile flutter. “Not always,” he amended softly. “But sometimes.” He swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on the flames. “I remember the spring,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “The way the flowers would bloom…all at once.”

Apollo’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, grounding and warm. “You loved those,” he said gently. “You’d sneak down to the gardens before anyone else got there.”

Hermes huffed a weak laugh, his wings trembling. “I’d get there before the petals even opened,” he whispered, his eyes growing glassy. “I just…liked watching it happen.”

Athena stepped forward, her eyes bright and shimmering. “You always dragged me or Aphrodite down there with you,” she murmured, her voice thick with memory. “You said I was too serious.”

Hermes' lips twitched, a soft smile ghosting across his face. “You were,” he whispered. “You still are.”

Athena chuckled, though the sound was strained. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out instinctively. “You’re not alone anymore, Little Wing,” she said softly. “I’m here. We’re all here.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his wings giving a sharp flick. “I know,” he whispered, his voice trembling. He took another shuddering breath, his hands twisting in his lap. “I just…sometimes I miss it.” His gaze flickered back to the fire, and his voice grew smaller. “I miss us.”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, stretching out like a thread about to snap. Apollo’s grip tightened on his shoulder, and Athena stepped forward, her hands coming to rest on his back, steady and grounding.

Hermes sniffed softly, his wings fluttering again. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t apologize,” Athena whispered fiercely, her hands moving to his shoulders, squeezing gently. “You’re allowed to miss it.”

Hermes blinked up at her, his eyes shimmering. “Thethe…” he whispered, the old nickname falling from his lips like something fragile and precious. His wings trembled, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might collapse in on himself.

Athena didn’t hesitate. She moved forward, pulling him into her arms with a gentle, protective strength. Hermes went willingly, folding into her embrace, his head pressing against her shoulder. His wings fluttered once, then settled, and his hands fisted in her cloak, holding on like he might slip away if he didn’t.

“Oh, Little Wing…” Athena whispered, her hand moving to the back of his head, smoothing over his curls with gentle precision. “I’m right here.”

Hermes sniffed, his wings giving a soft, shuddering flick. “I missed you,” he whispered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “I missed you so much.”

Athena’s arms tightened, and she pressed her cheek to the top of his head. “I’m here now,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Apollo was there a moment later, his hands moving to rub slow, soothing circles over Hermes' back. “Neither of us are,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “You’re not alone anymore.”

Hermes shuddered, his wings trembling as he leaned into their touch. His grip on Athena’s cloak tightened, and his breath came in shallow bursts. “I…I just thought…”

Athena shook her head firmly. “You don’t have to think that anymore,” she whispered. “We’re here. We’re staying.”

Apollo’s hand brushed over Hermes' wings, gentle and grounding. “We’re right here,” he murmured. “Featherhead.” He added fondly.

Hermes sniffed again, but his breathing evened out, the tension slowly bleeding from his shoulders. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice thin but stronger. “Okay.”

Athena held him a little tighter, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly. “So proud.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he leaned into her, his eyes closing as he soaked in the warmth of her embrace. “I missed you,” he murmured again, softer this time. “Both of you.”

Apollo rubbed his back in slow, grounding circles. “We missed you too, Herms,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “We missed you too.”

The storm had finally passed. The rain had left the earth damp and glimmering, droplets of water clinging to the leaves and flowers like tiny jewels. The air was crisp and clean, the scent of petrichor still lingering in the breeze. Sunlight peeked out from behind scattered clouds, casting soft, dappled light across the courtyard.

Hermes stood at the edge of the doorway, his wings fluttering gently at his ankles, eyes fixed on the sunlight spilling over the stone path. He took a deep breath, letting the coolness of the fresh air fill his lungs.

“It’s nice out,” Apollo commented softly from behind him, stepping up beside his brother. His gaze followed Hermes', watching as the sun stretched lazily over the wet stones, casting long shadows that flickered with the sway of tree branches.

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering softly. “It’s like it never even stormed,” he murmured, voice light and full of something tender.

Athena stepped up on his other side, her gaze sweeping across the garden. “The earth remembers,” she murmured, her voice steady. “But it always finds a way to heal.”

Hermes glanced up at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Poetic, Thethe,” he teased lightly.

Athena huffed, rolling her eyes, but there was warmth in it. “I’ve been around golden boy over there too long,” she replied smoothly.

Apollo scoffed, glancing between the two of them. “You mock it now, but poetry is the words of the soul. Anyways, what do you say we go for a walk?” he suggested. “Clear our heads a bit.”

Hermes blinked, his wings flickering. “A walk?”

Athena nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think it would do us good,” she murmured. “The rain’s gone, and the world’s still here. We might as well enjoy it.”

Hermes hesitated, his gaze drifting back out to the courtyard. The sunlight shimmered off the wet leaves, droplets still clinging to the edges of flower petals. He took another breath, his wings fluttering softly. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’d like that.”

Without another word, the three stepped out into the courtyard, their footsteps light against the damp stone. The air was cool and crisp, the sky stretching wide above them, still streaked with soft traces of gray. Hermes let his wings flutter freely, brushing softly against his calves as he walked, his gaze sweeping over the gardens with a quiet kind of reverence.

Apollo kept to his left, hands swinging at his sides as he took in the fresh air. His gaze was bright and clear, and every so often, he would glance over at Hermes, a gentle smile playing at his lips.

Athena walked on his right, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes steady and watchful. She stayed close, her presence solid and grounding.

Hermes took a breath, his eyes drifting over the greenery. “I used to love the way it smelled after the rain,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Back on Olympus…when the storms would clear, the gardens always smelled like fresh air and roses.”

Apollo’s gaze softened. “I remember,” he replied. “You always dragged us out as soon as it stopped.”

Athena chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t think you’ve ever walked slowly in your life.”

Hermes snorted softly, his wings fluttering. “There was too much to see,” he murmured. His gaze flickered to the flowers blooming along the path, droplets of water still clinging to their petals. “Too much to miss.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the soft patter of water dripping from the leaves and the faint calls of birds returning to the trees. Hermes' wings fluttered gently, brushing against his ankles, and his footsteps grew a bit lighter, his gaze brighter.

Apollo nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “You’re not thinking of running off, are you?” he teased, his voice light and easy.

Hermes smirked, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “Maybe,” he shot back smoothly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Athena chuckled, her eyes glimmering with something fond. “I’d like to see you try,” she replied smoothly.

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and real, and for a moment, it felt like the rain had never come at all.

They reached a small stone bench tucked away beneath an old fig tree, its branches heavy with leaves and whispering softly in the breeze. Apollo gestured to it with a grin. “Think your legs can handle a rest, Little Wing?” he teased lightly.

Hermes rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. “I suppose I could be persuaded,” he replied smoothly, brushing a few droplets of water off the seat before settling down. Apollo and Athena joined him, one on either side, and the three of them sat in companionable silence for a moment, just listening to the wind whisper through the leaves.

Hermes leaned back, his wings stretching out just a bit before settling again. His gaze flickered up to the sky, where the clouds had mostly cleared, leaving behind soft streaks of gray against pale blue. “It’s…nice,” he murmured, his voice softer. “To just…be.”

Athena smiled, her hand coming to rest gently on his shoulder. “It is,” she agreed. “I’d almost forgotten.”

Apollo leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. “You never could sit still for long,” he mused. “I half-expected you to bolt the second the rain stopped.”

Hermes chuckled, his wings giving a playful flutter. “Maybe I’m slowing down,” he replied, his voice teasing. “Getting soft.”

Athena huffed. “Not likely.”

Their laughter faded into quiet comfort, the three of them leaning back, just enjoying the sunlight filtering through the branches. But after a while, Hermes' gaze drifted back to his hands, his wings folding in tightly against his ankles. He stared at his fingers, the tips brushing over his palms, and his smile faltered just a bit.

Athena’s gaze sharpened. “What is it?” she asked gently.

Hermes hesitated, his hands stilling in his lap. “It’s just…” He swallowed, his wings flickering. “It’s both of you. Here.” He glanced up, his eyes flickering between them. “You’re both here. With me. And…he’s not going to like that.”

The silence grew thick and heavy, stretching out like a taut string. Apollo shifted, his gaze softening with understanding. “No,” he admitted quietly. “He won’t.”

Hermes' wings fluttered nervously. “And you’re both okay with that?” he whispered. “You’re both just okay with defying him?”

Athena’s hand moved to his shoulder, her grip firm and grounding. “We’re here,” she said simply. “With you.”

Hermes' gaze flickered to her, uncertainty written plainly across his features. “But…he’s not going to just let it happen,” he murmured. “He’ll–”

Apollo cut him off with a gentle squeeze to his arm. “We’re not afraid of him, Little Wing,” he said softly. His eyes were bright and steady. “Not anymore.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering again. “But…why?”

Athena’s grip tightened, her expression softening. “Because you’re worth it,” she replied firmly. “Because you’re our brother.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings trembling just slightly. “You really mean that?”

Apollo chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course we do,” he replied. “Did you really think we wouldn’t?”

Hermes swallowed hard, his gaze dropping back to his hands. “I just…I never thought…” His voice broke off, and he took a shuddering breath. “I never thought you’d risk everything. Just for me.”

Athena’s hand moved to cup the side of his face, turning him back towards her. “You’re worth the risk,” she whispered fiercely. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe that.” Her eyes shone with a raw honesty, and she took a breath, her hand never leaving his cheek. “You’re not the only one who misses you, Hermes. All of them, our siblings, want to be here too. They’re mad, Herms. Mad at him. Angry for what he did to you.”

Hermes blinked, his breath catching. “They are?”

Athena nodded, her gaze fierce and unyielding. “They just have to find that bravery for themselves,” she continued softly. “But they miss you. I promise you, they miss you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and his eyes shimmered with something fragile and bright. “I didn’t know.”

Apollo leaned forward, his hand brushing gently over Hermes' head wings. “You’re worth it,” he murmured. “Every bit of it. And when they’re ready, when they find that courage, they’ll come too.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his gaze dropping back to his hands. “I-I didn’t think…”

Athena squeezed his hand, her voice soft but unyielding. “You’re worth it, Starling. You always were.”

Hermes took a deep, steadying breath, his wings settling back against his ankles. “Okay,” he whispered finally. His voice cracked just a little, but it was stronger than before. “Okay.”

Athena’s hand remained on his shoulder, her touch grounding and warm. “We’re with you,” she murmured. “Every step of the way.”

Apollo grinned, his eyes bright with mischief. “And you’re not getting rid of us anytime soon,” he added.

Hermes snorted softly, a smile breaking across his face. “I wouldn’t want to.”

After a while, Athena nudged him gently. “Come on,” she murmured, nodding towards the winding path that stretched deeper into the garden. “Let’s walk a little more.”

Hermes hesitated, glancing back towards the palace, but Apollo nudged him with a grin. “We’ll be right here, Herms. You don’t have to run.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering at his ankles, but after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

The three of them rose from the bench, their footsteps soft against the damp stone as they wandered deeper into the garden. The scent of rain and earth still lingered in the air, fresh and clean, and droplets of water clung to the petals of blooming wildflowers, glimmering like tiny diamonds in the sunlight.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft patter of their footsteps and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Hermes let his wings stretch out just a bit as he walked, feeling the sunlight warm his feathers. He inhaled deeply, his eyes drifting over the greenery, the soft sway of the branches, the shimmer of dew that still clung to the grass.

As the silence stretched comfortably, Athena grinned. “You know, Herms, you didn’t hear this from me,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper, “but even Ares said he misses you.”

Hermes nearly choked on his own breath, his wings flaring out slightly in shock. “Ares?!”

Apollo burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “I’m not surprised! You were the only one who could keep up with him when he got rowdy.”

Hermes' eyes were still wide, his wings flickering. “Ares misses me?” he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. “Really?”

Athena rolled her eyes, though there was nothing but fondness in it. “Yes, Ares,” she replied. “He wouldn’t say it to anyone’s face, obviously. But I heard him. Muttering about how it’s ‘too quiet’ without you around to pester him.”

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a soft, tentative flutter. “I…” He shook his head slowly, his gaze dropping back to his hands. “I didn’t know anyone missed me.”

Athena’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, grounding and steady. “We all miss you, Little Wing,” she murmured softly. “It’s just, some of us are braver than others. But they’re finding that courage, I promise.”

Hermes huffed a soft laugh, his wings fluttering just a bit stronger. “I…I can’t believe it.”

Athena squeezed his shoulder gently. “Believe it,” she replied firmly. “When they’re ready, they’ll come. But for now…we’re here.”

The knowledge settled warmly in Hermes' chest, spreading through his veins like sunlight after a long, cold night. His wings fluttered just a bit stronger, a little brighter.

Athena noticed it first, the way his step lightened, the way his wings flicked with a bit more energy. A smile crept onto her lips, soft and proud, and she nudged Apollo gently with her elbow.

“Look at him,” she murmured, her voice low enough that Hermes wouldn’t hear.

Apollo’s eyes flickered to his little brother, and his grin grew wide. “Well, would you look at that,” he whispered back. “Little Wing’s got his spark back.”

Hermes wandered a bit ahead of them now, his wings flaring out slightly as he stretched his arms up, letting his fingers brush the low-hanging leaves of an olive tree. Water droplets shook loose, sprinkling over his hands, and he laughed, a real, bright sound that caught on the wind and drifted back to his siblings like music.

“Come on!” he called back to them, his grin infectious. He stood at the edge of the path, where it forked off towards a small, tucked-away grove, the branches heavy with bright green leaves. “I used to race Apollo through paths like these!”

Apollo snorted, catching up with a few easy strides. “Race me?” he echoed, his eyes bright with amusement. “I think you mean ‘lose to me repeatedly.’”

Hermes' wings flickered with playful mischief. “Oh, please,” he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “If I hadn’t tripped over that pile of scrolls, you’d still be eating my dust.”

Athena caught up to them, her eyebrow raised. “I remember that,” she mused, her eyes glimmering with nostalgia. “You two nearly knocked down half the library.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed slightly, but his grin didn’t falter. “Minor collateral damage,” he replied smoothly. “Besides, you weren’t even mad.”

Athena smirked. “No, I wasn’t. It was the most excitement I’d had in weeks.”

Apollo laughed, stretching his arms above his head. “Maybe we can recreate it,” he teased, his eyes glimmering with challenge. “Think you’ve still got the legs for it, Little Wing?”

Hermes' wings flared out, brushing against his ankles. “You want to race?” he asked, his eyes shining with something daring and wild.

Athena shook her head, chuckling softly. “Please don’t tear up Odysseus’s garden.”

But Apollo was already stretching, rolling his shoulders like a lion ready to pounce. “You think you can keep up with me now?” he teased, his grin wide. “Without all that wing power?”

Hermes just grinned, lowering into a ready stance. “I guess we’re about to find out.”

Athena sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not responsible for the damage,” she called, her voice playful but firm.

Apollo just laughed. “You coming, Thethe?”

Athena rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Of course, someone has to keep you two out of trouble.”

Hermes glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling. “Keep up, Thethe,” he taunted playfully.

Athena’s eyes narrowed, but her smile was bright and full of life. “I think you forget who trained you, Little Wing.”

Hermes' grin grew, “Yeah, Ares!” And then he took off, Apollo laughing brightly, following close behind him.

Athena scoffed, but there was a glimmer of challenge in her eyes. “Oh, you’ll regret that,” she muttered under her breath before she took off, her footsteps sharp and deliberate.

Hermes shot a look over his shoulder just in time to see her closing the distance, her gaze sharp and determined. He let out a squawk of surprise, pushing himself faster, but she was right there, her hand reaching out–

Hermes yelped as she grabbed the back of his tunic, giving him a playful yank. “Gotcha!”

Hermes stumbled forward, catching himself with a laugh. “Unfair!” he gasped, his wings flapping wildly as he struggled to regain his balance.

Athena just laughed, the sound clear and bright. “I warned you,” she teased, brushing past him. “Shouldn’t taunt your elders.”

Hermes caught up back with them then, breathless but grinning. “I didn’t think you two still had it in you,” he chuckled.

Apollo scoffed. “We’re not that old, Whirlwind.”

Hermes huffed, his wings still flickering with excitement. “Mhm, sure.”

Athena arched an eyebrow. “Oh?” she challenged. “Then why were you trailing behind?”

Hermes snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I was pacing myself,” he replied smoothly. “Didn’t want you two to feel bad.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, but his smile was wide and real. “Sure, Herms. Whatever you say.”

Hermes just grinned back, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath—the sunlight spilling over their faces, the trees whispering softly in the breeze, and the distant call of birds ringing through the air. It felt like old times. It felt like home.

Athena cleared her throat, her gaze softening. “Well,” she murmured, nodding toward a patch of grass just off the path, still glittering with rain. “Might as well rest before you two fall over.”

Hermes glanced at the grass, his wings giving a soft flicker. “You trying to say I’m weak?” he teased, but there was no edge to it.

Athena rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to say you look like a newborn fawn.”

Apollo snorted, giving Hermes a gentle nudge. “Come on, Little Wing. Let’s sit for a bit.”

Hermes hesitated, but the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, the soft rustle of the wind, it felt safe. It felt good. He nodded. “Alright.”

They settled down on the grass, the blades still cool and damp beneath their hands. Apollo flopped back first, stretching his arms behind his head with a groan. Athena sat with more grace, her legs crossed neatly beneath her, and Hermes…Hermes just plopped right down, wings fluttering as he stretched his legs out.

For a while, none of them spoke. They just listened to the whisper of the wind, the distant call of birds, and the rustle of leaves above them. Hermes leaned back, his palms pressing into the grass, and for the first time in so long, he felt…light.

“You know,” Apollo began after a while, his eyes fixed on the canopy above them. “We used to do this all the time.”

Hermes glanced over, his wings flickering. “Yeah. We’d sneak out of the palace at night. We’d get Dite or Dio to join. Thena, you only joined occasionally, claiming you had better things to do.”

“I did have better things to do.” She snorted.

Hermes blinked, a smile tugging at his lips. “I remember,” he murmured. “You’d always bring that blanket.”

She snorted. “Because you always got cold.” 

Apollo nodded, nudging Hermes' ankle with his foot. “I had to carry you back half the time.”

Hermes huffed. “I wasn’t that small.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “You were tiny. Still are.”

Hermes crossed his arms, his wings fluttering indignantly. “Am not.”

Apollo chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Little Wing.”

They stayed like that for a long while, just letting the world move around them, listening to the birds flit through the trees and the wind whisper through the branches. Hermes' wings fluttered softly against the grass, and he closed his eyes, soaking in the quiet.

After a while, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words might shatter if he spoke them too loudly. “I miss them.”

The breeze seemed to still, the leaves pausing in their rustling, and the sunlight flickered just slightly. Hermes' eyes stayed fixed on the canopy above, his wings unmoving, his hands folded neatly in his lap. He didn’t look at Athena or Apollo. He didn’t need to.

There was a silence, heavy and thick, stretching out between them. Apollo’s gaze flickered from the sky to the grass, his jaw tightening just a bit. Athena’s posture straightened, her hands folding over her lap, her eyes fixed ahead. Neither of them spoke.

Hermes didn’t expect them to.

The wind whispered through the trees again, shaking the leaves back to life, and the birds resumed their singing. The world moved on, just as it always did.

Hermes took a breath, steady and slow, and let his eyes fall shut. The sun was warm against his skin, the grass soft beneath his wings. He held onto the silence like a lifeline, like something fragile and precious, and he let himself just…feel.

Because sometimes, there wasn’t anything to say.

The silence lingered between them for a long time, stretching out like a thread that neither of them wanted to sever. Eventually, Athena shifted, her eyes drifting back toward the palace in the distance. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I should go,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady.

Hermes blinked, turning to face her. “So soon?”

Athena’s smile was gentle, almost apologetic. “The storm’s passed,” she said quietly. “I’ve been gone too long already.” Her gaze softened, flickering between Hermes and Apollo. “But I’ll be back. Soon.”

Hermes' wings fluttered softly, his gaze dropping to the grass. “You mean that?”

Athena knelt in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, firm and grounding. “Of course I do, Little Wing,” she whispered fiercely. “I’m not hiding anymore.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings fluttering with a soft shiver. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “Okay.”

Athena’s hands squeezed his shoulders gently, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, light and fleeting. “I’ll be back soon.”

Hermes nodded, and for once, he believed it.

Athena turned to Apollo, her expression softening. “Take care of him.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, though his smile was genuine. “Wasn’t planning on doing anything else, Thethe.”

Athena chuckled, giving him a light shove before stepping back. She hesitated at the edge of the clearing, her gaze lingering just a moment longer, before she disappeared down the path, her footsteps light and sure.

The silence stretched between Hermes and Apollo, the weight of it settling comfortably in the space she left behind. Hermes' wings fluttered idly, his gaze dropping back to his hands. “Are you going too?” he asked softly.

Apollo’s smile was warm, but there was a flicker of sadness there too. “I have to,” he admitted. “There’s, well, you know.”

Hermes nodded, his wings folding neatly against his ankles. “Yeah, I know.”

Apollo hesitated, his hand coming to rest on Hermes' shoulder. “You’ll be alright?”

Hermes looked up, his eyes bright and steady. “I think so,” he replied softly. “I’ve got my Starlight.”

Apollo’s smile grew, his eyes glimmering with warmth. “I’m glad.” He paused, his grip tightening for just a moment. “I’ll be back soon.”

Hermes nodded, his wings flickering gently. “I’ll be here.”

Apollo gave him one last squeeze before stepping back, his gaze lingering for a heartbeat longer. And then, with a nod, he turned and walked back towards the palace, his footsteps slow and steady. Hermes watched him go, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles, his gaze bright but steady.

When Apollo disappeared from view, Hermes took a deep breath, letting the silence settle around him like a soft blanket. The sun was still shining, the birds still singing, and the world still felt lighter.

A soft smile tugged at his lips, and he turned back towards the path. “I suppose it’s time,” he murmured to himself, his wings giving a light flicker. He took a deep breath, turning back towards the palace with purpose in his step.

Notes:

SO CUTE!!!

Hope you enjoyed it!!

As always, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 52

Summary:

Soft Hermesias time!!!!

It didn’t take long to find Tiresias. They were sitting in the parlor, hands folded neatly in their lap, their gaze directed toward the soft sound of the crackling fire. At the sound of Hermes' footsteps, they tilted their head, a gentle smile spreading across their lips. “There you are,” they murmured warmly.

Hermes stepped forward, his wings fluttering with excitement. “The storm’s passed,” he said softly, his eyes bright. “And I…I was thinking.”

Tiresias tilted their head, curiosity flickering across their face. “Oh?”

Hermes took a breath, his hands brushing nervously over the fabric of his tunic. “I was thinking we could still go,” he murmured, his voice soft but hopeful. “To the springs.”

Tiresias’s smile brightened, and they nodded gently. “I’d like that,” they replied, their voice warm and sincere.

Hermes' wings fluttered excitedly, and he stepped forward, offering his hand. Tiresias reached out, their fingers curling gently around his, and Hermes felt that familiar surge of warmth flood his chest.

“Let’s go then,” Hermes murmured, his voice soft but steady. 

Tiresias smiled, standing gracefully with his hand still held firmly in Hermes'. “Lead the way.”

With his wings fluttering in a gentle, excited rhythm, Hermes led them out into the sunlight, the path stretching before them bright and open. His heart felt lighter, his steps more sure, and as they walked side by side, Hermes couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.

The path to the springs wound gently through the hills, flanked by tall grasses and wildflowers still glistening with remnants of rain. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced over the stones, the air sweet with the scent of earth and blooming lavender. Hermes led the way, his hand still clasped in Tiresias’s, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles with every step.

“It’s just up this way,” Hermes murmured, his voice light and soft, carried by the breeze. His grip on Tiresias’s hand was steady, his movements careful as he guided them around small stones and dips in the path. “You’ll hear it before you feel it.”

Tiresias’s lips curled into a smile, their fingers curling gently around Hermes'. “I trust you.”

Hermes' wings gave a happy flicker at the words, his steps growing just a bit lighter. They walked in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of birds flitting through the trees above, their calls soft and musical. The path dipped slightly, sloping downward where the grass grew thicker, and just beyond the bend, the faint trickle of water began to reach their ears.

“There,” Hermes murmured, his voice soft and warm. He squeezed Tiresias’s hand gently. “Can you hear it?”

Tiresias tilted their head, listening carefully. A smile broke across their face, bright and genuine. “I can.”

Hermes grinned, his wings flickering with excitement. “Come on.”

He led them forward, his pace quickening just slightly. The trickle of water grew louder, bubbling over smooth stones, cascading down a gentle slope into a pool of crystal-clear water. The springs lay nestled in a grove of trees, their branches stretching out like protective arms, sunlight streaming through the leaves in gentle patches that danced over the surface of the water.

The steam rose gently from the water’s surface, curling like thin, silken threads that caught the sunlight and shimmered with warmth. The stones that surrounded the edge were smooth and pale, worn down by years of rushing water. Moss crept over their edges, softening the space with splashes of vibrant green.

Tiresias tilted their head, a soft smile playing at their lips. “It’s beautiful,” they whispered. Their hand reached out, fingers brushing over the air just above the surface of the water. “It feels warm.”

Hermes' wings fluttered with excitement. “It is! It’s perfect,” he said, voice brightening. He stepped forward, his hand still linked with Tiresias’s, and gently guided them to sit on the smooth stone ledge. “Here, just relax.”

After a while, Tiresias shifted, their fingers brushing over the smooth stone beneath them. “Would you…would you like to get in?” they asked softly, their voice full of gentle curiosity.

Hermes blinked, his wings giving a soft flutter. “Get in?”

Tiresias nodded, his smile warm. “It’s warm, isn’t it? And peaceful.” Their head tilted just slightly, their expression softening. “I think it would be nice.”

Hermes hesitated, his gaze dropping to the water. The surface was calm, reflecting the light like a thousand tiny stars, and it did look inviting. But his wings fluttered at the thought of becoming water-logged.

His gaze flickered down to his ankles, where the tiny wings stretched out, resting against his skin. He swallowed hard, his hands flexing nervously. “I don’t usually,” he murmured. “Not with these.”

Tiresias’s hand stayed firm in his, his grip gentle but grounding. “Your wings?”

Hermes nodded, his gaze still fixed on the water. “They’re a bit tempermental,” he admitted with a chuckle. “And when they get wet, it’s, well, it’s not great.”

Tiresias was silent for a moment, their thumb brushing gently over the back of his hand. “What if I help you?” they asked, their voice tender and full of sincerity.

Hermes blinked, his gaze lifting to their face. “Help me?”

Tiresias nodded, their expression earnest. “While they dry,” they murmured. “I can help take care of them.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings fluttering just slightly. “You would do that?”

Tiresias’s smile was soft and steady. “Of course,” he replied easily. “I’d be honored to.”

Hermes stared at them for a long moment, his gaze flickering over their face as if searching for any hint of insincerity. He found none. “Okay,” he whispered finally, his voice barely above a breath. “Sure.”

Tiresias’s smile brightened, and they stood gracefully, their hand never leaving his. “Let’s go slow,” they promised, their voice gentle. “We can take our time.”

Hermes nodded, his wings fluttering nervously, but he squeezed their hand tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Tiresias gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Always.”

Hermes hesitated, his gaze flickering down to his ankles. The wings there shivered slightly, delicate feathers brushing against his skin. “I can’t let my head wings get wet,” he murmured softly, almost apologetically. “It’s…I don’t want to. Please.”

Tiresias squeezed his hand gently, their expression understanding. “We don’t have to go far in,” they reassured. “Just enough to enjoy it. I’ll be right beside you.”

Hermes took a breath, his wings giving a soft flutter. “Okay.”

Together, they stepped forward. The steam curled around their ankles first, warm and inviting, and as Hermes took another step, the water crept up to his calves, swirling gently around his wings. He sucked in a breath, eyes widening as the warmth sank into his muscles, loosening tension he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Tiresias smiled, their hand still firm in his. “How does it feel?”

Hermes blinked, flexing his wings slightly, watching the water ripple around the feathers. “It’s…good,” he replied softly, almost surprised. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Tiresias chuckled, their grip steady. “That’s the idea.”

They moved a little further in, the water lapping just below Hermes' knees, and he stopped there, his wings fluttering gently. Tiresias released his hand only to settle down on a smooth stone ledge just beneath the water’s surface. “Here,” they murmured. “Sit with me.”

Hermes hesitated for only a moment before joining them, his wings brushing softly against the warm water, droplets beading on the delicate feathers. He stretched his legs out, letting the heat seep into his bones, and for a long moment, he just relaxed.

The silence stretched comfortably between them, broken only by the gentle trickle of water and the soft rustle of leaves above. Hermes closed his eyes, letting his head tip back as the sunlight filtered through the branches, warming his face.

After a while, Tiresias spoke, their voice gentle. “You sound like you’re finally breathing.”

Hermes blinked, his eyes opening slowly. He looked down at his hands, submerged just below the water’s surface, the sunlight catching on the ripples. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I-I think I am.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand reaching out to brush gently over Hermes' forearm. “I’m glad.”

Hermes' wings fluttered softly, sending tiny ripples across the water. “I didn’t think I’d feel this way again,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like I could actually breathe.”

Tiresias’s smile was gentle and warm. “You deserve it.”

Hermes looked down, his fingers tracing lazy circles through the water. The steam curled around them, soft and silken, and for a long while, they just sat there, soaking in the warmth and the quiet.

But after some time, Hermes' gaze grew distant, his wings flickering with a nervous tremor. He took a breath, his fingers stilling against the water’s surface. “I’m…sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly.

Tiresias tilted their head. “For what?”

Hermes' gaze dropped to his hands. “For…for the storm,” he whispered. “For being so tense. For,” His wings fluttered with a shiver, droplets scattering over the water. “I know it wasn’t just me. Apollo was scared too. And you…you didn’t need to.”

Tiresias’s hand found his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to apologize for that,” they murmured firmly.

Hermes' eyes flickered up, uncertainty written plainly across his features. “But I…you shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

Tiresias smiled softly, their hand never leaving his. “I want to,” they replied easily. “You don’t have to carry that by yourself.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his wings fluttering again, softer this time. “You…you’re really okay with that?”

Tiresias’s expression softened, their fingers brushing over the back of his hand. “Always,” they whispered. “I’m right here, sweet bird. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine to care for, remember?”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings flickering. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I…I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

Tiresias chuckled, their grip tightening just a bit. “I know,” they replied warmly. “But I don’t need you to. Just let me stay.”

Hermes' wings fluttered once more, softer, more certain. He took a deep breath, his gaze lifting back to the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice steady. “I can do that.”

A bit of that old spark flickered back into his eyes, and Tiresias must have sensed it, because they turned their head slightly, brows raising just a fraction. “What?”

Hermes grinned, his wings flickering. “Nothing,” he replied innocently, though his smile suggested otherwise.

Tiresias huffed softly, a smile playing at his lips. “I know that tone,” he murmured. “You’re plotting.”

Hermes' grin grew, and he leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming against the stone ledge. “Who, me?” he asked, his voice laced with mock innocence.

Tiresias chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Hermes' eyes glimmered with mischief, and before Tiresias could react, he flicked his ankle wings sharply, sending a small splash of water arcing up into the air. It landed with a gentle splash against Tiresias’s shoulder, the droplets catching the light and sparkling like tiny diamonds.

Tiresias gasped, turning towards him. “Oh, really?”

Hermes just laughed, his wings flickering wildly. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

Tiresias tilted their head, a smile curling at their lips. “Mmhm. Is that how we’re playing now?”

Hermes' eyes twinkled with mischief. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Without warning, Tiresias flicked their hand through the water, sending a small wave splashing across Hermes' side. Hermes squeaked, his wings flaring out slightly. “Hey!”

Tiresias just grinned, their voice light and teasing. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Hermes sputtered, wiping the water from his face, but his grin only grew. “Oh, it’s on, Starlight,” he declared, his wings fluttering in excitement.

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Hermes' grin grew wider. “You should be.”

Before Tiresias could respond, Hermes flicked his wings again, sending another splash of water arching across the surface. Tiresias laughed, ducking back just in time, and Hermes' laughter joined theirs, bright and unrestrained.

The two of them splashed and laughed, droplets of water sparkling in the sunlight, catching on their skin and shimmering like tiny stars. Hermes' wings flickered and flared, his movements light and easy, and Tiresias met him splash for splash, their hands skimming the surface and sending ripples of laughter through the air.

They finally settled back on the stone edge, breathless and damp, their laughter trailing off into soft chuckles. Hermes' wings fluttered lazily, brushing against the water as he leaned back, his eyes bright and shimmering with joy.

“Do they still feel alright?” Tiresias asked softly, their head tilted towards him, voice gentle and warm.

Hermes flexed his ankles, watching the droplets of water catch the light and shimmer. His wings flickered with the motion, tiny feathers still damp and clinging together. “They feel good,” he replied, almost surprised. “Better than I expected.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands resting easily in their lap. “I’m glad.”

Hermes reached down, his fingers brushing lightly over the feathers. Water droplets clung to the edges, pooling at the tips, and he frowned slightly, running his hand gently along the length of the wing. A few of the droplets shook loose, sliding down into the water below.

Tiresias shifted, their hand reaching out to gently cover his. “Here,” they murmured. “Let me.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “You…you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Tiresias replied simply.

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering nervously. But then, with a small nod, he turned slightly, offering his ankle wings to Tiresias’s waiting hands. “Okay.”

Tiresias’s touch was featherlight, gentle and reverent as their fingers brushed over the delicate feathers. They worked carefully, moving from the base of the wing to the tip, their hands sure and steady. Water beaded and dripped away with each motion, and Hermes watched in silence, his gaze fixed on their hands.

The world seemed to slow around them, the whisper of the wind through the trees a soft murmur, the birds singing gently in the branches above. Tiresias’s hands were warm and steady, their touch gentle as they worked through each feather, shaking loose droplets and brushing them dry with a careful hand.

When Tiresias finished, they leaned back slightly, hands resting easily in their lap. “All done,” they murmured gently.

Hermes flexed his ankle wings, watching the feathers spread neatly, unencumbered by droplets. He blinked, surprise flickering across his face. “You…they’re perfect.”

Tiresias chuckled softly. “Of course they are,” they replied warmly. “You deserve nothing less.”

Hermes' wings fluttered happily, and he reached out, taking Tiresias’s hands in his. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of sincerity. “Really.”

Tiresias smiled, their hands squeezing his gently. “Always.”

The sun dipped low behind the hills, casting long shadows across the water, and the soft whisper of twilight crept through the trees. Hermes and Tiresias lingered by the edge of the springs, neither in any rush to break the stillness that had settled around them. But as the sky darkened and stars began to prick through the velvet dusk, Hermes stretched his wings, the soft feathers brushing gently against his calves.

Tiresias tilted their head towards him. “Ready to head back?”

Hermes nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I suppose we should.” He stood, offering his hand to Tiresias, who took it without hesitation. Their fingers threaded together easily, naturally, and Hermes led them back to the winding path, their footsteps soft against the grass.

The path back to the palace was quiet, the only sounds the distant chirp of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. The sky stretched out above them, a tapestry of stars glittering against the deep blue, and Hermes found his gaze drifting upwards, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles.

“They’re bright tonight,” he murmured, his voice soft and reflective.

Tiresias smiled gently, their head tilting towards the sound of his voice. “I can feel them,” they replied. “The way the air shifts. It’s like a hum. Soft and steady.”

Hermes glanced over, his eyes bright with curiosity. “You can feel them?”

Tiresias nodded, their hand squeezing his gently. “Not like you see them,” they murmured. “But yes. I can feel them.” Their smile grew a little. “I imagine they’re beautiful.”

Hermes looked back up, his eyes tracing the familiar constellations. “They are,” he whispered, his voice full of reverence. “They really are.”

They walked for a while longer in comfortable silence, the stars twinkling above them, the path winding gently back toward the palace. The moon hung low in the sky, casting soft light over the grass, and Hermes found himself slowing, his gaze lingering on the stretch of sky above.

Tiresias sensed the hesitation, their grip on his hand tightening just slightly. “What is it?” they asked softly.

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering at his ankles. “I just…” He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I miss it sometimes,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “Olympus.”

Tiresias stayed silent, their hand never leaving his. They waited, patient and gentle, giving him the space to continue.

Hermes took a shaky breath, his wings fluttering nervously. “I miss…parts of it,” he continued, his voice trembling just slightly. “The stars are always so bright there. And the gardens, the ones by the east wing, were always full of flowers. Aphrodite would spend hours there, just tending to them. She’d always scold me for running through and messing them up.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and his wings flickered with the memory. “Hephaestus had this forge, so loud and always busy. Sparks everywhere, and you’d think it’d be chaos, but it wasn’t. He knew exactly where everything was.”

Tiresias’s hand remained firm in his, and Hermes' voice softened even further. “I miss it sometimes,” he admitted, his gaze fixed firmly on the stars above. “But it’s not…” He paused, his breath catching. “It’s not home.”

Tiresias squeezed his hand, their voice gentle. “No?”

Hermes shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He turned to Tiresias, his eyes shimmering with something fragile and bright. “You’re home,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “You always have been.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched, their grip on his hand tightening. “Hermes…”

Hermes smiled, his wings fluttering with that familiar warmth. “It’s true,” he murmured. “I thought I knew what it meant to have a home. But I didn’t. Not until,” He swallowed hard, his wings brushing gently against Tiresias’s calf as they walked. “Not until you.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, soft and full of something so warm it nearly broke Hermes' heart. “You’ve said that before,” they murmured, their voice a whisper on the wind.

Hermes grinned, a bit sheepish. “I meant it every time.”

Tiresias’s hand reached out, brushing softly over his cheek, grounding him back to the present. “And I’ll never get tired of hearing it,” they whispered, their voice full of warmth and something Hermes could only describe as home.

~~~~

The next few days passed in a warm, unhurried rhythm. Hermes moved through the halls of the palace with a lightness that hadn’t touched his step in ages, his wings fluttering gently at his ankles and atop his head as he laughed and joked with Telemachus, swapped stories with Apollo, and basked in the quiet moments shared with Tiresias. There was a comfort in the daily routine, a sense of belonging that settled deeper into his bones with each passing sunrise.

Apollo had taken to lingering around Ithaca more often than not, his presence brightening the halls with his laughter and music. The mornings often found him sprawled in the courtyard with Telemachus, explaining the finer points of lyre-playing or recounting old tales of Olympus with a flair for the dramatic. Hermes would join them sometimes, teasing Apollo’s embellishments and adding his own twists to the stories, much to Telemachus’s delight.

Athena came and went as she could, her appearances always marked with soft smiles and gentle embraces. She never stayed long, her duties on Olympus were demanding, but she always promised she would return, her hand resting on Hermes' shoulder, her eyes shining with something that looked a lot like pride. Each visit seemed to chip away at the invisible wall that had grown between them, and Hermes found himself eagerly awaiting the sound of her familiar knock at the door.

Hades had appeared once, stepping through the shadows as effortlessly as breathing. His arrival had startled the household at first, Telemachus had nearly toppled his chair, and Odysseus’s hand had twitched towards his sword, but Tiresias had been the first to smile, greeting the god with warmth that softened the shadows around him.

“How long can I stay?” Tiresias had asked him, their voice gentle but timid.

Hades had considered them for a moment, his gaze drifting over to where Hermes was laughing with Penelope across the room, his wings flickering with unrestrained joy. A slow, knowing smile spread across the god’s face. “As long as Hermes stays happy,” he’d replied smoothly, his voice as soft as velvet. “Stay. He needs this.”

Hermes had caught Tiresias’s eye from across the room, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles, and the smile that spread across his face was brighter than the sun.

“Even if that’s forever, prophet. You’ve served me well, but you serve him better.” Hades said softly. Tiresias smiled.

“It is my honor, Lord Hades.”

Penelope and Odysseus watched it all unfold with gentle smiles and knowing glances. There was a warmth in their eyes as they watched Telemachus curl up beside Apollo on the veranda, listening with rapt attention as the god recounted a particularly ridiculous tale of Dionysus and the time he convinced an entire village to think they’d turned into swans.

The palace was filled with more light than it had been in years. Hermes found himself lingering by the fire in the evenings, his legs curled beneath him, his wings resting gently at his ankles as Tiresias leaned against his side, head tilted towards his voice as he spoke. Sometimes Athena would join them, her voice blending with Hermes' as they retold old stories, their voices weaving together like music.

Penelope and Odysseus would watch from the doorway, hands clasped together, their eyes soft with affection. One evening, as Hermes laughed at one of Apollo’s jokes, his wings flaring slightly with mirth, Penelope leaned closer to Odysseus, her voice a whisper. “I think we’ve adopted three gods,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling.

Odysseus chuckled, squeezing her hand. “I think we have,” he agreed warmly. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

Hermes heard the whisper, and when he glanced back at the two of them, Penelope simply smiled, her gaze soft and full of warmth. Hermes' wings fluttered, brushing against his calves, and he grinned, his heart swelling with something he hadn’t felt in so long. He was part of something…something warm and safe.

And for now, that was everything.

Notes:

This one's a bit on the shorter side, but still a good one. Just some soft Hermisias times. Hope you enjoyed!!!

Go take care of yourselves, friends! Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 53

Summary:

Another longer chapter filled with sibling and family chaos and fluff.

Enjoy!!!

The courtyard was alive with laughter, the soft thud of footsteps against stone, and the bright clash of wooden swords. Hermes and Apollo darted back and forth, their movements light and playful, their eyes glittering with mischief. Apollo twirled his training sword with exaggerated flair, a grin stretching wide across his face.

“Oh, you think that’s fancy?” Hermes called, his wings fluttering at his ankles as he sidestepped a lunge with dramatic flourish. “You used to be faster, Polly!”

Apollo scoffed, his eyes glimmering. “You used to be sneakier, you little gremlin,” he shot back, twirling the sword in a flourish before lunging again.

Hermes ducked neatly beneath the swing, his wings flaring just slightly as he spun behind Apollo and tapped him lightly on the back with the flat of his wooden sword. “Got you!” he crowed, wings fluttering happily.

Apollo whipped around, laughing. “I wasn’t ready!”

Hermes just raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Oh? I didn’t realize you needed a head start.”

Apollo huffed, squaring his shoulders. “Alright, alright. No more playing nice.” He lunged forward, the wooden swords clacking together with a satisfying thwack. They fell into a rhythm, light and easy, weaving around each other like it was a dance they’d practiced for centuries.

Off to the side, Athena stood with her arms crossed, watching the two of them with a sigh that spoke of exasperation and fondness in equal measure. “They never change,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Telemachus stood beside her, eyes wide with fascination. “You don’t join them?” he asked, his gaze flickering between her and the sparring brothers.

Athena raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling just slightly. “Oh, I have,” she replied smoothly. “But there’s no reasoning with them once they get like this.”

Telemachus watched for another moment, his hands curling with excitement. “That looks…that looks fun,” he murmured, a grin spreading across his face.

Athena opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Telemachus was already running toward the sparring match, his laughter ringing out across the courtyard.

“Oh no,” Athena groaned, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. But there was a smile on her face, soft and warm.

Telemachus dove right in, grabbing a wooden sword from the rack and jumping straight into the fray. “You call that fighting?” he taunted, swiping at Hermes' legs with a playful grin. “I’ve seen bards more coordinated!”

Hermes cackled, parrying the blow and twirling with unnecessary flair. “You think you’re better, Little Trickster?” he teased, his eyes glimmering with delight. “Come show me!”

Telemachus didn’t need any more prompting. He jumped into the rhythm easily, ducking and weaving with youthful enthusiasm, his laughter bright and unrestrained. Apollo and Hermes kept pace with him, their movements light and playful, their wooden swords clacking together in a lively dance.

From the veranda, Odysseus and Penelope watched with matching smiles, their hands intertwined. The sun cast long shadows over the courtyard, bathing the scene in soft golden light.

Odysseus chuckled softly, shaking his head as he watched Telemachus dart between the gods, his grin wide and fearless. He turned slightly, his gaze catching Athena where she still stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed and expression softened with something almost like pride.

“You know,” Odysseus began, his voice warm and full of sincerity. “This place is yours too, if you want it.”

Athena blinked, turning to face him fully. “What do you mean?”

Odysseus stepped forward, his gaze steady and unyielding. “I mean,” he said gently, “if you want to be part of this family, you are.” His eyes flickered to where Apollo was laughing with Hermes, their swords clattering joyfully. “Both of you.”

Athena’s eyes softened, her posture relaxing ever so slightly. “That’s…kind of you.”

Odysseus smiled, his hands settling comfortably at his sides. “It’s not kindness,” he replied easily. “It’s truth.”

Athena stared at him for a long moment, her eyes bright with something unspoken. 

Odysseus spoke again. “I know we’ve had our differences, Lady –”

“Athena.” The goddess interrupted. Odysseus glanced at her, a questioning look in his eyes. “Just Athena is fine. Our fights are in the past, Odysseus. They were of the moment and I think we both made mistakes.” 

Odysseus nodded, “I don’t regret what I meant, but I regret how I said it.” And then, with a soft nod, she stepped forward, her gaze drifting back to the three sparring in the courtyard.

“You know,” she murmured, her voice low. “We were never allowed a family in this sense.” She gestured to the three. “Hermes always wanted this. He would try to get all of us away from our duties.” She sighed. “I wish I had agreed more often.”

“You have that chance now, Athena. If you want it.” Odysseus said softly. Athena smiled.

“I think I’d like that.”

Odysseus’s smile grew, and Penelope’s hand found his, their fingers intertwining with gentle familiarity. “Then it’s settled,” Penelope said warmly. “Welcome to the family.”

Athena watched them for another heartbeat, her gaze softening. Then she stepped forward, her stride purposeful as she approached the sparring match. Hermes caught sight of her first, his wings fluttering excitedly. “Thethe!” he called brightly, waving his sword dramatically. “Come join us!”

Athena hesitated, just for a moment. And then she grinned. “Alright,” she called back, picking up one of the wooden swords resting by the ledge. “But don’t blame me when you’re eating dust.”

Telemachus laughed, brandishing his sword with a flourish. “I’m not afraid!”

Athena’s eyes glittered with mischief. “You should be.”

The sparring match was well underway, Telemachus darting between Hermes and Apollo with quick, nimble movements, his wooden sword flashing in the sunlight. Hermes twirled around him with the grace of a dancer, his wings fluttering happily at his ankles, while Apollo, ever the showman, swung his own sword with wide, dramatic sweeps, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

Athena watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, her expression composed but her eyes glimmering with amusement. She watched as Apollo overextended on a particularly ridiculous flourish, leaving him wide open for Telemachus to dart in and smack him lightly on the back of the knee.

Apollo yelped, stumbling forward dramatically. “Oh, you scoundrel!” he cried, one hand clutching his chest. “I’m struck!”

Telemachus laughed brightly, twirling his sword with a flourish. “You’re just slow, Pollo!”

Hermes snorted, leaning casually against his own sword. “I’ve been telling him that for ages.”

Apollo whipped around, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, is that so?” He lunged at Hermes with playful fury, and Hermes squealed, ducking out of the way just in time. The two of them crashed into each other, swords clacking wildly, their laughter spilling out into the warm Ithacan air.

Athena just sighed, shaking her head. “You two are hopeless.”

Telemachus glanced back at her, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “You could always join us, Lady Athena,” he called, his voice light and teasing. “Unless you’re afraid I’d win.”

Athena raised her eyebrows, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Afraid?” she echoed, her tone dripping with mock offense.

Telemachus grinned, nodding eagerly. “That’s what I said.”

Hermes perked up, his wings fluttering in delight. “Oh, I would love to see this.”

Apollo straightened, brushing the dust off his tunic with dramatic flair. “Athena sparring with us? That would almost be unfair.”

Athena scoffed, rolling her shoulders back. “Unfair for you, maybe,” she quipped, stepping forward with purposeful strides. She reached down, plucking a spare wooden sword from the rack, giving it a practiced twirl. “You boys look like you could use a proper lesson.”

Hermes' eyes sparkled with glee. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Thethe.”

Athena’s gaze flickered to him, her grin sharp. “Oh, you’ll regret that.”

Before Hermes could respond, she lunged, her sword flashing forward in a graceful arc. Hermes squawked, jumping back with an undignified yelp as the wooden blade whistled past his side. “Hey!”

Apollo cackled, darting around to flank her. “Careful, Hermes! She’s serious!”

Athena turned smoothly, parrying Apollo’s swipe with a flourish that nearly knocked the sword from his hands. “You call that form?” she teased, her grin widening. “I’ve seen better swordplay from mortals!”

Telemachus watched with wide eyes, his grin spreading. “I’m joining!” he announced, running forward with his wooden sword raised high.

Athena glanced back, her eyes alight with challenge. “You think you can take me, Prince?”

Telemachus puffed out his chest, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I’m certain of it!”

“Then by all means, try,” she replied smoothly, bracing herself with all the confidence of a war general.

What followed was a flurry of movement, Telemachus darting around with youthful enthusiasm, Hermes and Apollo flanking on either side, and Athena standing her ground with the practiced grace of a thousand years of combat. Her wooden sword struck with precision, deflecting each swipe and jab with a flick of her wrist.

Hermes twirled around her, his wings flickering with delight. “Oh, she’s still got it!” he called brightly, ducking under her swing and tapping her lightly on the back with the flat of his blade.

Athena laughed, a sound so rare it made Hermes pause just to hear it. “You think you’re clever?” she shot back, spinning with the kind of grace that made her movement seem like poetry.

Apollo lunged from her left, and she parried easily, twirling him out of the way with a flick of her wrist. Telemachus swept in low, but she sidestepped with the ease of someone who had been fighting wars since the dawn of time.

“Come on, Little Wing,” she called to Hermes, her eyes shining with mischief. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Hermes cackled, his wings fluttering with glee. “I was just getting started!”

Odysseus and Penelope watched from the archway, their eyes bright with affection. Odysseus chuckled, his arm slung casually around Penelope’s shoulders. “I think our son is learning the hard way not to challenge gods,” he murmured, his eyes twinkling.

Penelope laughed, her gaze softening. “And I think our home just got a lot louder.”

Odysseus grinned, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Penelope smiled, her eyes glimmering with warmth. “Nor would I.”

In the courtyard, Athena parried a particularly wild swing from Telemachus, sending him spinning off balance. “You’ll have to be quicker than that!” she called, her laughter ringing out across the stone.

Hermes and Apollo shared a glance, their wings flickering with mischief. “Team up?” Hermes whispered.

Apollo grinned, his eyes sparkling. “You read my mind.”

They lunged together, wooden swords flashing, and for the first time in forever, the goddess of war laughed as she sparred with her brothers.

The courtyard was alive with energy, laughter bouncing off the stone walls as wooden swords clattered and the air shimmered with the thrill of competition. Hermes and Apollo stood side by side, their wooden swords held with dramatic flair, wings fluttering eagerly at Hermes' ankles as he bounced on his toes.

Across from them, Athena stood tall and poised, her own sword twirling easily in her grip. Telemachus stood at her side, his eyes bright with excitement, his wooden blade gripped tightly in his hands.

Hermes grinned, glancing up at Apollo. “I think it’s time we made this official.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Official?”

Hermes nodded, stepping forward and waving his sword with theatrical flair. “Team Featherbrain,” he declared, throwing his arm around Apollo’s shoulders and pulling him into a half-hug. “The fastest, cleverest, and handsomest duo this side of Ithaca.”

Apollo snorted, rolling his eyes. “I’m flattered, really.”

“Oh, don’t be modest,” Hermes replied with a laugh, his wings fluttering. He turned to Athena and Telemachus, his grin widening. “You two want to name your team? Or should we call you Team About to Lose?"

Telemachus laughed brightly, raising his sword high. “We’ll be Team Wisdom!”

Athena raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Team Wisdom?” she echoed, glancing down at him.

Telemachus grinned up at her, his eyes sparkling with pride. “It fits!”

Athena chuckled, patting his shoulder. “Alright then. Team Wisdom, it is.” She raised her sword, pointing it directly at Hermes. “Prepare to be thoroughly humbled, Featherbrains.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, clutching his heart. “Thethe, you wound me!”

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” she replied, her smile widening.

Apollo tapped Hermes' shoulder, leaning in conspiratorially. “I think she’s serious,” he whispered, his grin growing.

Hermes' eyes sparkled. “I hope she is.” He twirled his sword, wings flickering at his ankles. “Ready, Polly?”

Apollo straightened, his expression turning mock-serious. “Always.”

Hermes nodded, tapping his sword against the ground. “Alright, Team Featherbrain! Let’s show them how it’s done!”

With that, he lunged forward, wings fluttering, his sword arcing through the air in a dramatic sweep. Athena blocked easily, her own blade clashing against his with a satisfying crack. Telemachus darted forward, aiming for Apollo’s side with nimble grace, his eyes alight with determination.

Apollo parried with a flourish, twirling his sword like it was part of his very being. “You’re quick, Little Wolf,” he called with a grin.

“And you’re slow, Mr. God!” Telemachus shot back, ducking low and swinging for Apollo’s knees.

Apollo laughed, blocking the swipe with practiced ease. “You’re getting bold!”

“I’m learning from the best!” Telemachus called back, his grin never faltering.

Athena, meanwhile, was matching Hermes stroke for stroke, her movements fluid and sharp. “You think you’ve gotten faster since last time?” she asked, her sword flicking out with precision.

Hermes ducked, his wings flickering with each movement. “I’m always fast,” he replied, twirling neatly out of her reach. “Just haven’t had a reason to show off.”

Athena raised an eyebrow, her smile wicked. “I’ll give you a reason.”

She lunged forward, catching Hermes off guard with a sudden flurry of strikes that sent him scrambling back, his wings flapping wildly. “Oh! Alright, alright!” he yelped, parrying desperately as she pressed her advantage.

“Not so quick now, are we?” Athena teased, her eyes gleaming with mirth.

Hermes laughed, blocking another swipe. “I’m just letting you have your fun!”

To the side, Apollo and Telemachus were caught up in their own duel, the prince darting around with surprising agility, his strikes well-placed and deliberate. “Not bad, Little Wolf,” Apollo praised, swiping back with an almost lazy grace. “You’ve been practicing.”

Telemachus grinned, eyes sparkling. “I have a good teacher!”

Apollo laughed, raising his sword to block another strike. “Well, I won’t go easy on you.”

Telemachus just grinned wider. “I wouldn’t want you to!”

The four of them weaved around each other, swords clacking and laughter spilling out into the open air. Every now and then, Hermes and Apollo would attempt a coordinated assault, only to be met with Athena’s flawless parries and Telemachus’s wild enthusiasm.

Hermes darted back to Apollo’s side, panting slightly but grinning. “She’s still terrifying,” he whispered.

Apollo laughed, resting his sword on his shoulder. “She always has been.”

Hermes' eyes flickered with mischief. “Think we can take them?”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, his grin spreading. “Oh, absolutely not.”

Hermes cackled, shaking his head. “Good. I love a challenge.”

As the sparring match raged on, with wooden swords clattering and playful banter flying back and forth, Tiresias found his way to the veranda where Odysseus and Penelope stood watching. Penelope’s hand rested gently on Odysseus’s arm, her eyes soft with affection as she took in the chaos unfolding in the courtyard.

At the sound of Tiresias’s approach, she turned, her smile warm and inviting. “Come, join us,” she said, patting the stone ledge beside her. “I think you’ll like what you hear.”

Tiresias smiled, his hand brushing along the stone railing as he found his way to the spot Penelope had indicated. He settled in comfortably, his hands folded neatly in his lap, head tilted just slightly toward the noise. The sound of wooden swords cracking together, punctuated by Hermes' bright laughter, spilled out into the courtyard, filling the air with warmth and mirth.

“You should have seen it,” Odysseus murmured, his voice laced with pride. “Athena finally joined in. Gave Hermes and Apollo a real run for their money.”

Tiresias chuckled, his head tipping back slightly as he listened. “I can imagine,” he replied warmly. “Hermes sounds happy.” His voice softened, hands resting lightly on the cool stone beside him.

“He is,” Penelope replied gently. “And it’s beautiful to see.”

The sounds of sparring picked up again, and Tiresias could hear Telemachus’s voice calling out cheerfully, followed by Hermes' playful taunt and the unmistakable clatter of swords. Tiresias smiled, his fingers brushing lightly over the smooth stone ledge. “I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh like that before,” they murmured softly.

Penelope’s hand settled on his arm, gentle and reassuring. “It’s a good thing,” she whispered. “He deserves it.”

Tiresias nodded, their smile growing. He tilted his head slightly, listening as Hermes' voice rang out across the courtyard, bright and full of joy. Apollo’s laughter followed, and even Athena’s voice carried with an air of mirth that seemed almost impossible.

“I always knew he was capable of this,” Tiresias murmured, almost to himself. “This kind of happiness.”

Penelope’s hand remained on his arm. “And now he’s found it,” she replied, her voice soft and full of certainty.

Odysseus leaned back against the stone, his arms crossed comfortably over his chest. “And I’m glad for it,” he added, his voice low and steady. “This place is better with him here.”

Tiresias smiled, his head still tilted toward the sound of Hermes' laughter. “He would be happy to hear you say that.”

Odysseus chuckled. “I might even tell him,” he replied. “When he finally stops running circles around my son.”

As if on cue, a loud whoop echoed from the courtyard, followed by Telemachus’s bright, breathless laughter. “You’re too slow, Apollo!” the boy called, his voice full of pride.

Apollo’s voice carried back, full of mock outrage. “I’m pacing myself!”

Hermes' laugh rang out, clear and bright. “He says that every time he’s losing! Don’t let Mr. Sparkles fool you!”

“That’s Lord Sparkles to you, you gremlin!” Apollo shouted back, earning a delighted squeal from his brother.

Tiresias laughed, the sound soft and gentle. “I never thought I’d hear him like this,” he whispered, his voice laced with emotion.

Penelope squeezed his arm, her touch warm and comforting. “He’s happy, Tiresias,” she replied gently. “And he’s loved.”

Tiresias nodded, his eyes closed as he listened to the playful chaos unfolding before him. “He is,” they whispered, their smile soft and full of something like hope. “He really is.”

The sparring match continued, chaotic and bright, with Athena holding her ground against the combined efforts of Hermes, Apollo, and Telemachus. Her sword flashed in practiced arcs, deflecting each swipe and jab with the kind of precision that spoke to centuries of battle. Telemachus was a flurry of movement at her side, ducking and weaving around Hermes' quick-footed strikes.

“Not bad, Little Trickster!” Hermes called, twirling his wooden sword with flair. “You sure you’re on the right team?”

Telemachus huffed, his eyes sparkling with determination. “I’m exactly where I need to be!”

“Are you?” Hermes' wings fluttered at his ankles, and he raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but she’s unbeatable.”

Telemachus glanced back at Athena, who had just parried one of Apollo’s lunges with the grace of a dancer. Her eyes flickered with amusement, her expression unyielding. “You think so?” he whispered back, glancing over his shoulder.

Hermes nodded sagely. “Oh, I know so. I’ve been trying to take her down for centuries. I could use some help.”

Telemachus blinked, his grip tightening on his sword. “But she’s my partner.”

Hermes leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “She wouldn’t expect it. Think of the glory! The honor! The bragging rights.”

Telemachus’s eyes grew wide, and he glanced back at Hermes, his grin spreading. “You know what?” he whispered. “You’ve got a point.”

Hermes beamed. “That’s my Little Trickster.”

Telemachus turned back to the sparring match, his stance firm. Hermes caught Apollo’s eye, nodding once. Apollo raised an eyebrow, then grinned, catching on immediately.

Athena, still blocking both of their attacks with effortless precision, raised an eyebrow. “You three look awfully smug,” she called, deflecting another swipe from Apollo. “I take it you’re ready to surrender?”

Hermes cackled, his wings flickering with excitement. “Oh, Thethe, not quite.”

Before she could react, Telemachus lunged, not at Hermes, but at her side, his sword catching her just under the arm with a light thwack. “Telemachus!" she gasped, whipping around to face him.

“Sorry, Lady Athena!” he laughed brightly, ducking her swipe. “I’ve been convinced.”

Athena turned just in time to block Apollo’s next swipe, her eyes narrowing with mock irritation. “Oh, you little traitor!” she cried, her voice breaking with laughter.

Hermes darted in, wings flaring with delight as he swung for her legs. “Get her, Little Trickster!”

Telemachus grinned, darting around her other side. “You’re going down!”

Athena was laughing even as she parried them, her movements swift and precise. “You think you can take me?” she called, her voice bright and full of joy. “You forget who you’re dealing with!”

“Maybe!” Hermes called back, his sword swiping at her feet. “But there are three of us now!”

Apollo swooped in, blocking her next swing, and Telemachus darted forward, tagging her in the side with a triumphant whoop. “That’s one for me!” he shouted.

Athena laughed, her sword catching Apollo’s again with a satisfying clack. “Alright, you little turncoat,” she teased, twisting around to dodge Hermes' swipe. “I’m impressed!”

“Good!” Hermes cried, wings flaring as he darted forward. “Because here we come!”

The three of them lunged together, Telemachus coming in low, Apollo sweeping from the right, and Hermes diving forward with wings flaring. For a moment, Athena held her ground, parrying with sharp, precise movements. But with a final flurry of strikes, she staggered back, her sword slipping from her grip, and Telemachus landed the final thwack to her side.

Athena collapsed dramatically to the grass, laughter spilling from her lips. “I yield! I yield!”

Hermes, grinning with wild delight, flopped down right on top of her, wings splaying out happily. “Victory is mine!” he cried, his voice full of laughter. He snuggled in closer, his grin widening. “I missed this, Thethe.”

Athena huffed, her hands coming up to pat his back. “I did too, you wild thing. Chaos incarnate.”

Hermes huffed a laugh. “You love it.”

Athena laughed. “I do.”

Apollo plopped down beside them, flopping backward with an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Telemachus hesitated, his wooden sword still clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes flickered to the gods, curled up in the grass, their laughter bright and unrestrained. He took a step forward, then hesitated. “Is it alright if I…”

Hermes perked up, wings fluttering. “What? You’re not gonna join us?”

Telemachus blinked, his eyes wide. “I-I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“Oh, get over here,” Apollo laughed, patting the grass beside him. “You’re part of the winning team, aren’t you?”

Telemachus’s grin spread wide and bright as he dropped down beside them, leaning back against the grass. Hermes flopped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into the tangle of limbs and wings.

On the veranda, Odysseus and Penelope watched with soft smiles. Odysseus nudged Penelope gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this happy.”

Penelope squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with warmth. “Neither have I.”

Odysseus’s gaze turned to Tiresias, who was listening intently, a soft smile playing at their lips. “They’re all just sprawled out on the grass now,” Odysseus murmured to him, his voice low and gentle. “Hermes is curled up with Athena, Apollo’s draped across both of them, and Telemachus is right there with them.”

Tiresias’s smile widened, his head tilted just slightly towards the courtyard. “He sounds happy.”

Odysseus’s voice softened. “He does.”

Penelope stepped closer, her hand brushing over Tiresias’s arm. “He’s surrounded by family,” she murmured gently. “It’s all he’s ever wanted.”

Tiresias’s eyes shone, and he nodded, his hands clasping together tightly. “Then that’s enough for me,” he whispered.

The laughter in the courtyard settled into soft murmurs and light chuckles as the group sprawled out across the grass, limbs tangled and hearts lighter than they had been in ages. Hermes had his head resting on Athena’s shoulder, her fingers running gently through his hair, occasionally brushing over the feathers of his head wings with practiced ease. Apollo was draped comfortably across both of them, one arm slung over Hermes' back and the other stretched out behind his own head. Telemachus lay with his back against Apollo’s side, his head resting against the god’s shoulder, eyes closed and breathing steady.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light across the courtyard. The air was sweet with the scent of lavender and wild grass, the remnants of their playful sparring still lingering in the air like static.

From the veranda, Odysseus, Penelope, and Tiresias stood watching, soft smiles gracing their faces. Tiresias’s head was tilted just slightly, their eyes closed, a gentle smile spreading as he listened to Hermes' soft chuckles and Telemachus’s breathy laughter. Odysseus had his arm around Penelope’s shoulders, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her arm.

It was Hermes who noticed them first. His head tilted back, eyes catching the three of them standing just a little bit apart, watching with gentle fondness. His wings fluttered at his ankles, and he grinned wide and bright. “Well?” he called out, his voice warm and full of that easy mirth. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join us?”

Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a light, almost disbelieving laugh. “Join you?” she echoed, glancing at Odysseus with raised eyebrows.

Apollo perked up, raising his head from where it was nestled against Hermes' shoulder. “There’s plenty of room!” he called out, patting the grass beside him. “Family’s family, right?”

Odysseus blinked, his eyes softening with understanding. He glanced back at Tiresias, whose smile had grown wider, his head turning towards the sound of Apollo’s voice. “You’re serious?” Odysseus asked, his voice a touch softer.

Hermes laughed, his wings flickering. “When am I ever not?”

That did it. Penelope squeezed Odysseus’s hand, her smile spreading wide and bright. “Well then,” she murmured, her voice full of lightness. “We can’t turn down an invitation like that.”

Odysseus grinned, and with gentle hands, he guided Tiresias forward, keeping one hand lightly on his arm. Tiresias’s smile was gentle, his head tilted towards the laughter, the warmth of the sunlight catching his hair. Penelope walked alongside them, her hand resting on Tiresias’s shoulder as they made their way to the sun-soaked patch of grass where the gods and Telemachus lay sprawled.

Hermes sat up first, his wings fluttering in excitement as Tiresias approached. “Here,” Hermes said gently, patting the grass beside him. “Right next to me.”

Tiresias chuckled, his hand brushing along the grass before finding Hermes' shoulder, his smile spreading. “I suppose I’ve been claimed,” he murmured.

“Absolutely,” Hermes replied, his voice softening with fondness. He guided Tiresias to sit, tucking himself close against the prophet’s side. His wings stretched slightly, brushing against Tiresias’s ankles before settling neatly.

Penelope settled beside Apollo, who greeted her with a grin and a playful nudge. “So, I hear you’ve adopted us,” he teased, his eyes glimmering with mirth.

Penelope laughed, brushing her hand over Apollo’s hair like she would with Telemachus. “Someone had to,” she replied easily.

Apollo leaned into the touch, his smile softening. “I suppose you’re right.”

Odysseus lowered himself onto the grass beside Penelope, stretching out with a sigh. “It’s been a while since I’ve lounged like this,” he murmured.

Athena, still lying back with her arms crossed behind her head, raised an eyebrow. “About time you did,” she replied smoothly.

Odysseus laughed, the sound warm and full of life. “I suppose you’re right.”

The group settled into an easy quiet, the breeze soft and warm, the grass cool beneath their hands. Hermes' head rested on Tiresias’s shoulder, his wings splayed comfortably against the grass. Apollo stretched out beside him, his hand lazily flicking through blades of grass. Telemachus sprawled across his father’s side, his eyes drooping slightly as the sun sank lower.

For a long while, no one spoke. They just existed together, one family, one whole, tangled together beneath the Ithacan sky. It felt like something more than just a gathering. It felt like healing.

Penelope’s hand brushed over Telemachus’s hair, her eyes glimmering with joy. “I think this is what home is supposed to feel like,” she murmured softly.

Odysseus squeezed her hand, his gaze flickering over the gods sprawled across the grass, their laughter still lingering in the air. “I think you’re right.”

The sun dipped lower behind the hills, casting the courtyard in hues of amber and violet. The group remained sprawled in their little cluster, comfortable and tangled together on the soft grass. As the sky deepened into twilight, stars began to peek through, glittering softly against the canvas of night.

Hermes lay with his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder, his wings gently splayed out behind him, fluttering every now and then with contentment. Apollo was stretched out on his back, hands laced behind his head, eyes fixed on the stars above. Telemachus was draped across his father’s side, his head resting against Odysseus’s shoulder, his breathing soft and even.

Athena was still leaned back with her hands braced behind her, her gaze turned skyward as if mapping out constellations only she could name. Penelope sat close, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes soft with affection as she looked over her family—gods and mortals alike.

“Look,” Telemachus murmured, his voice sleepy and soft. He raised a hand to point at the sky. “The Pleiades…just over there.”

Apollo followed his line of sight, nodding slowly. “I see it.” He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “That one…that’s where Maia used to point. Remember Herms? Said it would always guide me home.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, his gaze softening. “She always did know where home was,” he murmured, his voice drifting off into the night.

Tiresias’s hand rested gently on his back, tracing slow, soothing patterns. “And now you do too,” they whispered, their voice gentle and full of warmth.

Hermes smiled, his eyes flickering shut for a moment. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

The stars continued to spread across the sky, glittering brighter as the night grew darker. The group began to share stories; Apollo recounting tales of wild parties thrown in Dionysus’s honor, Hermes chiming in with tales of his own mischief, prompting laughter and playful swats from Athena. Telemachus listened with wide eyes, occasionally nudging his father when Hermes would exaggerate, causing Odysseus to chuckle and play along.

Athena shared stories of her time in Athens, sparring competitions that stretched on for days, the pride she held for the city she had watched flourish. Her voice softened when she spoke of the philosophers she had watched grow, the mortals who had etched their wisdom into history.

“Did you ever teach them?” Telemachus asked curiously.

Athena chuckled. “I may have suggested a few things,” she replied smoothly, her eyes twinkling.

Hermes cackled, his wings flickering with mirth. “I knew it!” he crowed. “You always did have a flair for meddling.”

Athena raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. “Says the god of thieves.”

Hermes gasped dramatically. “I don’t meddle, I improvise!”

That sent the group into another fit of laughter, the sound spilling out into the courtyard and rising up into the star-speckled sky. Tiresias leaned back slightly, his hand still resting on Hermes' back, a soft smile spreading across his face as he listened.

Time drifted away from them, the stories growing softer as the night deepened. The stars shimmered brighter, blanketing the sky in glittering light, and one by one, voices grew softer, eyes grew heavy.

Telemachus was the first to drift off, his head tucked against Odysseus’s shoulder, his breathing soft and even. Penelope brushed his hair back gently, her touch light and full of affection.

Apollo was next, his arms folded behind his head as he lay back on the grass, his breathing growing slow and deep. Athena watched him for a moment, her eyes softening.

Hermes' eyes fluttered shut, his wings curling in just slightly as he rested his head against Tiresias’s shoulder, his breathing even and calm. Tiresias’s hand stayed steady on his back, brushing slow, soothing circles.

Odysseus caught Athena’s gaze, nodding once toward Apollo. “We’ll get Telemachus,” he said softly, his voice low. “Can you take care of your brother.”

Athena blinked, her expression softening. “Are you sure?”

Penelope reached out, her hand covering Athena’s. “You’re family,” she whispered, her eyes shining. “And you always have a place here. Always.”

Athena hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the palace, the shadows stretching long in the moonlight. “I shouldn’t–”

“You should,” Odysseus replied firmly. “You belong here just as much as the rest of them.”

Penelope’s hand squeezed hers. “There’s always a room for you,” she whispered.

Athena swallowed, her gaze dropping. “I-I can’t stay long,” she murmured, but her hands were already moving, reaching out to gently scoop Apollo into her arms. He stirred just slightly, but his head nestled against her shoulder, his breathing even and steady. Athena’s arms wrapped around him instinctively, holding him with a tenderness that belied her strength.

Odysseus nodded once, a smile spreading across his face. “Just for tonight, then.”

Athena looked down at her brother, her expression softening. “Just for tonight,” she agreed.

Tiresias’s hand brushed over Hermes' hair, their smile gentle and full of affection. “Shall we?” he murmured softly.

Hermes stirred, his eyes fluttering open just enough to catch Tiresias’s voice. “Starlight?”

Tiresias chuckled warmly. “I’m here, sweet bird. Let’s get you to bed.”

Hermes didn’t resist, his body relaxing easily as Tiresias shifted, lifting him with gentle care. Hermes' wings curled inward, his head resting against Tiresias’s shoulder, breath warm against his neck.

Odysseus gathered Telemachus in his arms, the boy stirring just slightly before settling back into the familiar warmth of his father’s hold. Penelope brushed back his hair, her smile soft and fond.

The group moved inside, the palace lit with the soft glow of lanterns. Tiresias held Hermes close, his hands gentle and sure. Athena followed behind, Apollo’s head resting comfortably against her shoulder. Penelope and Odysseus brought up the rear, Telemachus nestled safely in his father’s arms.

They walked in silence, the soft glow of the moon trailing in through the windows, casting long shadows that stretched across the stone floors. It was quiet and warm, the kind of silence that spoke of peace and belonging.

Athena paused outside one of the rooms, having already settled Apollo in his bed, her eyes flickering to Penelope. “I don’t want to–”

Penelope smiled, opening the door gently. “You do,” she replied softly. “And you should.”

Athena hesitated, then nodded. “Just for tonight,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to Apollo’s peaceful face.

Penelope’s hand settled on her shoulder. “Just for tonight,” she agreed.

Athena stepped inside, the door closing softly behind her.

~~~~

The morning light crept gently through the windows, casting soft patterns across the stone floors. The palace was quiet, the kind of quiet that spoke of comfort and rest, not emptiness. The birds sang softly in the trees outside, their songs carried on the warm breeze that filtered through the open windows.

Hermes stirred first, his wings fluttering slightly as he woke, the gentle weight of blankets draped over him. He blinked sleepily, stretching his arms above his head, his wings giving a soft flicker of movement. The room was familiar, his room in Ithaca, warmed by the sunlight and filled with the faint scent of lavender.

He rubbed his eyes, sitting up slowly, and that’s when he heard it, the soft, familiar murmur of voices from down the hall. Apollo’s voice, light and bright as it always was, followed by a softer, smoother tone.

Hermes blinked, his heart giving a tiny stutter of disbelief. He slipped out of bed, his wings flickering with every step as he padded out into the hallway. The sunlight spilled in long, golden stripes across the floor, and he followed the sound of voices until he reached the kitchen.

There, leaning casually against the counter, a cup of tea in her hands and the faintest smile playing on her lips, was Athena. She was speaking quietly to Apollo, her posture relaxed, her hair neatly braided down her back. Apollo leaned against the counter across from her, his hands wrapped around a cup of his own, his eyes bright with something that looked a lot like joy.

Hermes stopped in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes wide, wings flickering at his ankles as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Athena looked up, catching his gaze. Her expression softened, her smile spreading just a little wider. “Good morning, Little Wing.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his wings fluttering so hard they nearly tangled. “You…you stayed?”

Athena raised her cup to her lips, nodding. “I did.”

Apollo’s grin stretched wide. “She actually did. I was half expecting her to sneak out before dawn.”

Athena rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered. “You’ll find I’m not as predictable as you think.” She paused, her gaze flickering back to Hermes, softening. “I promised, didn’t I?”

Hermes took a tentative step forward, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I thought you might.” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “I didn’t know if…”

Athena set her cup down gently, her gaze never leaving his. “I’m here,” she said simply, her voice steady and sure. “I’m here, Hermes.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, and he took another step forward, his eyes shining with something fragile and hopeful. “You’re not afraid?”

Athena shook her head. “No,” she replied firmly. “Not anymore.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings flickering rapidly behind him. He took another step forward, and then another, until he was standing right in front of her. He looked up at her, eyes wide and shining. “Thethe,” he whispered, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it.

Athena’s expression softened even further, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “I’m here, Little Wing,” she whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Hermes didn’t even try to hide the way he surged forward, his arms wrapping around her middle, his wings fluttering wildly at his ankles. Athena’s arms came up easily, circling him in a warm, steady hug, her hand brushing gently over the feathers at the sides of his head.

Apollo watched with a smile, his eyes soft and bright. He set his cup down, moving to wrap his own arms around both of them. “Look at us,” he murmured, his voice full of warmth. “Together again.”

Athena huffed a laugh, squeezing both of her brothers gently. “I guess Odysseus was right,” she murmured. “We have a family here.”

Hermes' wings flickered, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “We do,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “We really do.”

~~~~

The morning sunlight streamed through the open windows of the dining hall, casting warm patterns of light across the long wooden table. The room was alive with the soft sounds of breakfast being prepared, Penelope moving gracefully around the space, her hands deftly arranging fresh fruit, bread, and honey along the table’s center. Odysseus was beside her, his hands working easily as he poured water and set out cups, the motion familiar and comforting.

Telemachus was already seated, his hands fidgeting with the handle of his mug, eyes bright and eager. He perked up when he heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway.

Hermes, Apollo, and Athena stepped into the room, the sunlight catching on Hermes' wings as they fluttered happily behind him. His hand was still clasped in Athena’s, and Apollo walked just a step behind, his eyes still alight with the remnants of their morning reunion.

Telemachus’s grin stretched wide. “You made it!” he called, his voice bright and full of joy. He gestured grandly to the empty seats beside him. “I saved you spots.”

Hermes laughed, his wings flickering. “I’m honored, Little Trickster,” he replied, dropping gracefully into the chair beside Telemachus. Apollo took the seat across from them, stretching his arms behind his head with a dramatic sigh.

Athena hesitated for just a moment, her eyes scanning the room, taking in the table set with care, the warm sunlight filtering through the windows, the gentle hum of family around her. Odysseus looked up, catching her gaze. He straightened, giving her a nod of assurance. “There’s always a place for you,” he said gently, his voice full of sincerity.

Athena’s eyes softened, and she dipped her head slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quiet but steady. She stepped forward, taking the seat beside Apollo, her hands resting gently on the wooden surface of the table.

Odysseus moved back to his place, leaning against the edge of the table with a soft smile. “I trust you three slept well?”

Hermes nodded, his wings flickering slightly. “Better than I have in a long time.” He glanced at Athena, his smile growing softer. “All of us did.”

Penelope stepped forward, setting a warm loaf of bread in the center of the table, her eyes shining. “Good,” she replied, her voice gentle. “That’s how it should be.”

Tiresias entered then, guided by the soft sound of Penelope’s voice. His staff tapped lightly against the stone floor, and his smile was wide and bright. “It sounds like we’re all here,” they murmured, their voice warm.

Hermes' face lit up, and he half-stood from his seat, reaching out to guide Tiresias’s hand. “Right here, Starlight,” he said softly, his wings fluttering with warmth.

Tiresias chuckled, settling into the chair Hermes guided him to. “There’s my sweet bird,” he murmured. “I had wondered where you ran off to this morning.”

The table filled quickly after that, fresh fruit, honey, still-warm bread, and steaming tea spread out before them, the room filling with the warm scents of breakfast. Penelope took her place beside Odysseus, her hands folding gently in her lap as she smiled around the table.

Apollo reached for a slice of bread, his eyes bright with mirth. “I never thought I’d say this,” he murmured, spreading honey across its surface. “But I think I could get used to this.”

Telemachus beamed, reaching for his own slice. “That’s the idea,” he replied brightly.

Athena raised an eyebrow, her eyes flickering to Hermes. “I suppose I should get used to the chaos,” she said with mock seriousness.

Hermes cackled, his wings fluttering with glee. “Oh, Thena, you have no idea.”

That brought a ripple of laughter around the table, warm and bright. It wasn’t forced or distant; it was the kind of laughter that filled a room and settled into the very walls. It was familiar, it was safe.

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, his hand resting comfortably on Penelope’s. “It’s good to have a full table,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

Penelope smiled, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “It’s good to have a family,” she replied softly.

Hermes paused, his wings stilling just slightly. He looked around the table, Apollo, Athena, Telemachus laughing brightly, Odysseus and Penelope side by side, and Tiresias seated beside him, his hand resting lightly over Hermes' own. The room was full of life, of warmth, of belonging. His heart swelled with it, the kind of fullness he hadn’t known he was missing until now.

And Hermes realized, with a kind of awe that settled deep in his bones, that it wasn’t Olympus he had missed. It wasn’t marble columns or golden halls or the weight of a crown. It was this. It was family.

And for the first time, Hermes realized he didn’t miss Olympus.

Notes:

Apollo and Athena have officially been adopted. MY HEART! I love them. Hope you do too! They're not going away anytime soon.

As always, friends, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 54

Summary:

Fluff with a side of angst.

I lied…angst with a side of fluff. Teehee.

Enjoy!

The morning sun was warm and gentle, casting long shadows across the courtyard as the small group made their way down the winding path that led away from the palace. Wildflowers dotted the edges of the trail, their petals bright and open, still glistening with morning dew. The grass was soft underfoot, the air filled with the scent of fresh earth and blooming lavender.

Hermes walked ahead, his wings fluttering happily with each step, his eyes bright with the lingering joy of breakfast. Apollo matched his pace easily, his hands clasped behind his head as he walked, a grin stretched wide across his face. Athena strolled alongside them, her posture relaxed, her eyes scanning the horizon with a sharpness that never quite left her.

Just behind them, Tiresias walked at a steady pace, his hand resting gently on Telemachus’s shoulder. Telemachus moved with careful confidence, his hand lightly guiding Tiresias around dips and roots, their conversation soft and companionable.

Hermes glanced back at them, his wings flickering. “You two alright back there?” he called, his voice bright and full of warmth.

Telemachus looked up, grinning. “We’re fine! Tiresias is just lecturing me about wildflowers.”

Tiresias chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on the prince’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t call it lecturing,” they replied smoothly. “Merely informing you that not all flowers are safe to pick.”

Telemachus laughed, his eyes bright. “You make it sound like the flowers are out to get me.”

“Oh, some of them are,” Hermes called back with a grin, wings flickering with delight. “I once saw Apollo try to wrestle with a patch of wolf’s bane. Didn’t end well for him.”

Apollo groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

Hermes pretended to think for a moment, his wings flickering with playful mischief. “Hmm…no.”

Athena snorted, her eyes glittering. “You know, I seem to recall you getting tangled up with a patch of ivy once.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, his wings flaring. “It’s not my fault! Dite was messing with me!”

“Yeah, cause you decided it was a good idea to insult her flowers,” Athena replied smoothly, her lips twitching. 

Apollo barked out a laugh, clapping Hermes on the back. “Oh, I remember that! You looked like you were being eaten alive.”

Hermes flapped his wings indignantly, though his grin never wavered. “I didn’t insult them. I just told her the roses were slightly off colored.” He just received more laughter and huffed. “I’m starting to think you all take pleasure in my suffering.” His wings gave an indignant twitch.

“Only when it’s funny,” Athena replied with a sly grin.

Hermes cackled, his wings fluttering with mirth. “Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

The path wound gently through the hills, sunlight flickering through the branches overhead, casting dappled shadows across the ground. They walked in easy, companionable silence for a while, the kind that only came with familiarity and comfort. The birds chirped softly in the branches above, their songs weaving through the gentle breeze.

After a while, they reached the edge of a wide field, the grass stretching out in soft waves before them, wildflowers blooming in clusters along the edges. Hermes spread his arms wide, turning back to face the group. “Welcome to my favorite place,” he declared, wings flaring with joy.

Telemachus stepped forward, his eyes wide. “This is beautiful,” he murmured, glancing back at Tiresias. “It’s so open.”

Tiresias smiled, his head tilted slightly as if listening. “I can hear it,” they whispered, their smile growing. “The way the wind sweeps through it like it’s breathing.”

Hermes beamed, stepping back to stand beside them. “That’s exactly it,” he replied, his wings fluttering. “It’s like the whole place is alive.”

Apollo leaned against a tree, his eyes scanning the horizon. “I can see why you like it.”

Athena folded her arms, her eyes softening as she looked out over the field. “It’s…peaceful,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.”

Hermes flopped down onto the grass without hesitation, stretching his wings out beside him. “Well, that’s because you haven’t been here before,” he declared, patting the grass beside him. “Come on. It’s better if you just exist in it.”

Telemachus followed first, plopping down next to Hermes, his eyes still wide with awe. Apollo was next, stretching out beside them with an exaggerated groan. “I could get used to this.”

Athena hesitated just for a moment before settling beside Apollo, her posture relaxing almost imperceptibly. Tiresias moved to sit beside Hermes, their hand finding his shoulder with practiced ease.

The breeze swept over them, soft and warm, carrying the scent of wildflowers and the whisper of distant birds. Hermes flopped back onto the grass, his wings splaying out beside him, his eyes fixed on the open sky above. “This is home,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of something warm.

Apollo nodded, his eyes half-closed as he soaked in the sunlight. “It really is.”

Athena stayed quiet, her eyes scanning the horizon, but her shoulders were relaxed, her gaze soft.

Telemachus leaned back on his hands, glancing between the gods with a wide grin. “I never thought I’d be doing this,” he murmured.

Hermes chuckled. “Well, it’s only the beginning.”

The warm sunlight bathed the open field, stretching out in soft waves of grass and blooming wildflowers. Hermes lay sprawled comfortably on his back, wings stretched out beside him, the sun warming his feathers. Apollo sat with his legs stretched out, leaning back on his palms, his head tilted back to soak in the warmth. Athena was close by, her knees tucked to her chest, her gaze thoughtful as she scanned the horizon.

Telemachus and Tiresias sat a little ways off, engaged in a soft conversation. Tiresias’s head tilted slightly as Telemachus described the layout of the hills, the gentle slope that led back to the palace, the way the wildflowers grew thick along the edges. Tiresias smiled, nodding thoughtfully. “It sounds beautiful,” they murmured. “I’m glad Hermes has this.”

Telemachus grinned, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’m glad he’s here,” he replied warmly. “It’s like we were always waiting for him.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, but before he could reply, a voice called out from the edge of the field. One of the guards, dressed in Ithacan armor, waved a hand in greeting. “Prince Telemachus!”

Telemachus straightened, his head turning. “Yes?” he called back.

The guard stepped forward, nodding politely to Tiresias. “Your father asks for you. Training, my prince.”

Telemachus’s eyes flickered back to the group lying in the grass, then back to the guard. “Oh…alright. I’ll be right there.”

Tiresias reached out, their hand finding Telemachus’s arm. “Would you mind guiding me back to the palace?” they asked gently. “I wanted to speak with Penelope about a few things.”

Telemachus’s grin returned. “Of course! I’m happy to.” He glanced back toward Hermes, his brow creasing. “Should we…?”

Tiresias nodded. “Yes, always.”

Together, they made their way over the grass, the wildflowers brushing gently against their ankles. Hermes was lounging comfortably, wings fluttering slightly in the breeze, his head tilted back to watch the clouds. When he heard the familiar sound of their footsteps, he glanced over, wings giving a light flicker.

“Tiresias?” he asked, his voice light and warm.

Tiresias smiled, his hand resting on Telemachus’s shoulder. “I’m going to head back with Telemachus,” they said gently. “He has training, and I’d like to speak with Penelope.” Their hand reached out, brushing along Hermes' cheek with gentle affection. “I wanted you to know.”

Hermes' wings fluttered softly, his gaze flickering between Tiresias and Telemachus. “You’ll…you’ll be back, right?”

Tiresias chuckled warmly. “Of course, sweet bird. I wouldn’t go far.”

Hermes smiled, the tension melting from his shoulders. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Telemachus grinned, giving Hermes a playful nudge. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back safe and sound.”

Hermes laughed, his wings fluttering. “You better!”

Tiresias’s hand lingered a moment longer, brushing over the feathers at Hermes' ankle with gentle affection. “I’ll see you soon,” they murmured, their voice low and reassuring.

Hermes nodded, settling back into the grass. “I’ll be right here.”

Tiresias smiled, nodding toward the prince. “Let’s go, Telemachus.”

Telemachus straightened with a bright grin, leading Tiresias gently back down the path, their conversation already picking back up where it had left off.

Hermes watched them for a moment, his wings fluttering idly. He felt Apollo shift beside him, stretching his arms above his head. “They’ll be back before you know it,” Apollo murmured, his voice soft and reassuring.

Hermes nodded, his eyes still on the path. “I know. I just like knowing where he is.”

Athena’s voice chimed in, smooth and confident. “Ithaca is safe, Hermes. They’re fine.”

Hermes turned back toward them, his wings flickering. He offered them a smile, though it was soft and just a little hesitant. “I know.”

Apollo flopped back down on the grass, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Well, that just means we’ve got you all to ourselves now,” he teased, his grin stretching wide.

Hermes laughed, settling back into the grass, the sun warm on his wings. “I suppose you do.”

Athena lay back beside him, her eyes turning toward the sky. “I guess we’d better make the most of it.”

Hermes tilted his head, watching her with a glimmer of mischief flickering in his gaze. “Make the most of it, huh?” he echoed, his wings fluttering just a bit faster. He glanced at Apollo, who still lay sprawled across the grass, eyes closed, looking for all the world like he had no plans to move for the next century.

Hermes' grin widened. Without another word, he lunged forward, wings snapping tight to his ankles for momentum as he launched himself at Apollo, tackling him with surprising force. “Got you!” he cried triumphantly, his arms wrapping around Apollo’s shoulders as they both crashed back into the grass.

Apollo’s eyes snapped open, a startled yelp escaping him as he flailed. “Hermes!” he gasped, struggling to sit up but finding himself pinned under Hermes' weight. “Unfair! I wasn’t ready!”

Hermes only laughed, his wings fluttering wildly as he kept his grip. “Did you think I’d give you a fair warning?” he teased, his eyes glittering with mischief. “I’ve learned better than that.”

Apollo struggled, but a grin broke across his face, wide and bright. “Oh, you’re in for it now,” he growled, his hands latching onto Hermes' sides. “You forget, I know your weakness.”

Hermes' eyes widened, his wings giving a startled flutter. “You wouldn’t.”

Apollo’s grin only widened. “Oh, I would.”

And with that, his hands dug into Hermes' sides, fingers dancing over his ribs with ruthless efficiency. Hermes shrieked, his wings flaring wide as he tried to squirm away, laughter spilling from his lips in bright, unrestrained bursts. “N-no! Apollo! No!” he gasped, wriggling desperately but finding himself held firm by his older brother.

“Oh, I always forget how much you squeal,” Apollo laughed, his fingers relentless. “What was that? Speak up!”

Hermes twisted and flailed, his wings flapping wildly as he kicked his legs, but Apollo did not relent. His laughter grew louder, more frantic, his hands reaching out to push at Apollo’s shoulders, but he could find no leverage. “Y-you’re evil!” Hermes managed between gasps of laughter. “You’re pure evil!”

“Oh, I’m evil?” Apollo chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Wait until Thethe gets involved.”

Hermes' eyes widened in panic, his wings giving a frantic flutter. “Athena’s not–”

“Not what?” came Athena’s smooth voice from behind him.

Hermes twisted, just barely catching sight of her looming above them, her eyes glimmering with wicked mischief. “Athena, no,” he gasped, still wriggling under Apollo’s grip. “You–you wouldn’t.”

Athena raised an eyebrow, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. “Wouldn’t I?” she asked, voice dripping with faux innocence. “Oh, Little Wing, you underestimate me.”

Before Hermes could wriggle away, Athena pounced. Her fingers found his sides, mirroring Apollo’s movements with brutal efficiency. Hermes shrieked, his wings flaring so wide they nearly toppled Apollo off balance. “No! No, no, no!” he gasped, laughter bubbling up so violently he could barely breathe. “Athena! Apollo! Stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

Apollo only laughed, his hands moving to target the soft spots just under Hermes' ribs, while Athena’s fingers danced across his sides, tickling him with ruthless precision. “Tap out!” Apollo crowed, his grin stretching wide. “Say you surrender!”

Hermes flailed, his wings flapping wildly, feathers scattering in his desperation to escape. “N-never!” he gasped out between peals of laughter. “I don’t surrender!”

Athena chuckled, leaning in closer. “We’ll see about that,” she murmured, her fingers digging in just a bit deeper.

Hermes screeched, his wings fluttering madly. “O-okay! Okay! I surrender! I surrender!” he gasped, his voice cracking with laughter. “Just stop! Please!”

Apollo and Athena exchanged satisfied glances, their hands stilling but not quite pulling away. “See?” Apollo teased, his grin softening. “You should’ve known better than to pick a fight with both of us.”

Hermes lay limp between them, his wings still twitching slightly, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “I regret everything,” he panted, though there was a wide, unrestrained grin stretched across his face.

Athena’s hand came to rest gently on his head, smoothing over his hair in a rare gesture of tenderness. “Well,” she said softly, her voice warm and light. “That’s what you get for trying to take us both on.”

Hermes only laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, his wings fluttering gently at his ankles. “Noted,” he replied, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “But don’t think I won’t try again.”

Athena scoffed, though her smile was gentle. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Apollo chuckled, lying back in the grass with a contented sigh. “Yeah, well, next time, don’t be surprised if we come at you twice as hard.”

Hermes' grin widened. “I’m counting on it.”

Hermes lay back in the grass, his wings fluttering lazily at his ankles as he caught his breath. The sunlight spilled warmly over the three of them, casting golden light across their tangled limbs and the wide stretch of grass beneath them. Apollo stretched out beside him, his arms tucked behind his head, a grin spread wide across his face. Athena sat cross-legged, smoothing her tunic and fixing her hair with an expression of absolute smugness.

Hermes' eyes flickered between them, glimmering with mischief. His wings fluttered just a bit faster, the tips brushing the grass. Athena caught the movement and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, though her voice was light, almost teasing.

Hermes grinned back at her, his wings twitching just a bit faster. “What?” he replied innocently, his gaze flickering back to Apollo, who had his eyes closed, clearly basking in his victory. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “You’re terrible at lying, Little Wing.”

Hermes just laughed, his wings flaring out in a flash of movement as he launched himself at her, expecting to catch her off guard this time. His momentum carried him upward, the wind rushing through his feathers as he leaped forward–

–and was promptly caught midair.

Hermes squawked indignantly, his wings flapping wildly as strong hands wrapped around his middle, pulling him right back down to earth. He twisted, flailing, only to find himself pinned by Apollo, who had caught him with startling ease, as if he’d expected it all along.

“Really?” Apollo drawled, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. He peered down at Hermes, one eyebrow arched and a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. “I expected better from you.”

Hermes flailed, trying to break free, but Apollo’s grip did not budge. “H-how did you?”

Apollo chuckled, giving him a gentle shake. “Because I know you, Featherbrain,” he replied, his grin widening. “I saw you plotting that nonsense from a mile away.”

Hermes sputtered, his wings flapping indignantly. “Not fair! I wasn’t that obvious!”

Athena laughed, leaning back on her hands with an amused smile. “Oh, yes, you were,” she replied smoothly. “Honestly, did you really think you’d catch me off guard? Me?” She raised an eyebrow, looking almost offended by the thought.

Hermes wriggled in Apollo’s grasp, his wings flapping with more energy. “I thought maybe!” he shot back, still fighting against Apollo’s hold. “You two are ganging up on me, that’s what this is!”

Apollo snorted. “You’re right about that,” he said cheerfully, patting Hermes on the back. “And we’ll keep doing it until you stop being so easy to catch.”

Hermes huffed, crossing his arms even as he remained firmly trapped. His wings fluttered with residual indignation. “I’ll get you next time,” he grumbled, though his voice was soft with affection.

Athena just smiled, leaning back on her hands and turning her face back to the sky. “We’ll see, Little Wing.”

Apollo laughed, releasing Hermes and flopping back onto the grass, stretching his arms above his head. “I’m waiting,” he said with a grin, his eyes closing. “Bring your best next time.”

Hermes flopped down beside him, his wings flicking in defiance. “I will.”

The sun hung lazily in the sky, stretching its warmth over the wide field where Hermes, Apollo, and Athena lay sprawled in the grass. The wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, the scent of lavender and sweet grass swirling through the air like a lullaby. Hermes' wings fluttered softly at his ankles, catching the sunlight as he lay stretched out on his back, his eyes fixed on the clouds drifting slowly above.

Apollo was beside him, his hands clasped behind his head, his gaze following the same drifting shapes in the sky. His golden hair shimmered in the light, his face relaxed in a way that had been rare back on Olympus. It was as if the sun itself had melted away the tension that had always clung to him, leaving only peace.

Athena sat cross-legged beside them, her back straight and her eyes sharp as she scanned the horizon. But even she seemed lighter here, her shoulders less rigid, her gaze more thoughtful than calculating. The corners of her mouth were tipped up in a soft, gentle smile that Hermes couldn’t remember seeing before.

Hermes stretched his arms above his head, his wings flickering with every breath. “You know,” he murmured, his voice drifting up into the sky. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two this relaxed.”

Apollo chuckled, a warm, easy sound that rumbled from deep in his chest. “That’s because you’ve never seen me in a place where I’m not on call every five minutes.”

Hermes turned his head, eyebrows raised. “Sun god business that demanding, huh?”

Apollo groaned, flopping his arm over his face dramatically. “If I have to listen to one more prayer about the crops needing more sun.”

Athena snorted, crossing her arms. “Didn’t you once go down there just to tell a farmer to stop asking?”

Hermes' wings fluttered with laughter. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did,” Apollo replied, peeking out from under his arm with a grin. “Showed up right in his field, told him to go plant somewhere that actually gets sunlight.”

Hermes threw his head back, cackling. “You’re a menace!”

Athena rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. “And you’re surprised?”

Hermes shrugged, stretching his wings out beside him, their tips brushing against the wildflowers. “I don’t know…I guess I always thought you were too busy up there to cause trouble.”

Apollo laughed again, this time softer. “You never really paid attention to what I was doing, did you?”

Hermes opened his mouth to retort, but paused, blinking up at the sky. “No…no, I guess I didn’t.” His wings fluttered softly, the movement almost instinctive. “I was always running somewhere. Delivering something.”

A silence stretched between them, not heavy or tense, just thoughtful. Athena leaned back, her gaze turning upward. “We never did just…sit, did we?”

Hermes shook his head slowly. “No. I don’t think we did.” He shifted, his wings rustling against the grass. “I guess that’s why I love it here so much.”

Apollo glanced at him, his eyes softening. “You’re not running anymore.”

Hermes met his gaze, a soft smile spreading. “I’m not.”

For a long while, they just lay there, soaking in the sunlight, the gentle breeze sweeping through the grass, carrying the scent of lavender and thyme. It felt eternal, like the world had paused just to give them this quiet, this peace, this small pocket of happiness.

But then, slowly, something shifted.

It was so subtle at first that Hermes didn’t even register it. A whisper of a breeze that didn’t feel quite right, a coolness that crept in from the edges of the field and slid between the warmth of the sun. He sat up slowly, his wings flickering at his ankles.

Athena’s gaze sharpened, her eyes turning to the horizon, brows knitting together. “Do you feel that?”

Apollo pushed himself up on his elbows, his gaze following hers. “It’s colder.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, a ripple of unease passing through his frame. “That’s…that’s strange.”

The breeze picked up slightly, rustling through the wildflowers, bending them at the stems. The sun still shone brightly overhead, but the warmth it carried felt muted now, like it was being siphoned off bit by bit. Hermes shifted uncomfortably, his wings giving a little shake.

Apollo’s eyes flickered to the sky, his hands falling to his sides. “That’s not natural,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes swallowed hard, his gaze darting around the field. He had always been sensitive to changes in the air, messenger instincts, he supposed. But this…this was different. It felt like the whole world was holding its breath.

Athena stood, her posture straightening, her eyes locked on the horizon. “Something’s coming.”

Hermes flinched, his wings curling inward. “Not something. Someone.”

And then he heard it. A low, distant rumble. It wasn’t thunder, not really, it was softer, more deliberate. A vibration that hummed through the earth, shaking the tips of the grass and sending a shiver up Hermes' spine.

Apollo straightened fully now, his hands flexing at his sides. “Hermes?”

Hermes stood slowly, his wings shaking. “That’s…that’s not right.”

Athena’s eyes were sharp, her jaw clenched. “We need to be ready.”

The air grew thicker, the whisper of the wind growing louder, swirling around them in chaotic patterns. Hermes took a step back, his wings fluttering wildly behind him. “It’s…no, it can’t be.”

Apollo stepped closer, his hand brushing Hermes' shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s alright.”

Hermes shook his head, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “No, it’s not.” His voice cracked just slightly. “He’s coming.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.

Athena stepped forward, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “Then we stand together,” she declared, her voice firm and steady. “He doesn’t get to decide how this ends.”

Hermes looked at her, his wings still shaking, his eyes wide and uncertain. Apollo’s hand stayed firm on his shoulder, grounding him. “We’re with you,” Apollo whispered. “All of us.”

Hermes took a shaky breath, his wings stilling just slightly. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice thin but resolute. “Okay.”

And the wind howled, the sky darkening just slightly at the edges, creeping in like shadows. Hermes' wings trembled at his ankles, fluttering in frantic, uneven beats.

“It’s…he’s coming,” Hermes whispered, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide and glassy, fixed on the horizon as though willing the shadows to stay where they were. “We have to go. He’ll, he’ll be furious if he sees–”

But before he could finish, Apollo was already stepping forward, his body moving instinctively. His hand found Hermes' arm, pulling him back gently but firmly, eyes hardened. “No,” Apollo said quietly, his voice firm and unyielding. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering in sharp, anxious bursts. “Polly, you don’t understand–”

“I do understand,” Apollo interrupted, his hand still wrapped securely around Hermes' arm. He moved with purpose, stepping in front of his brother, positioning himself so that Hermes was shielded from the open field. “And I’m not letting him near you.”

Hermes stumbled back slightly, his wings flaring behind him. “You can’t! He’ll be furious!”

Apollo’s gaze remained locked on the horizon, his jaw clenched tight. “He’s always furious,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m tired of bowing to it.”

Before Hermes could protest further, Athena was there, stepping to his other side with the smooth, deliberate movements of a warrior preparing for battle. She angled herself just slightly, her posture firm and unyielding, blocking Hermes from view on her side. Her gaze was sharp, eyes scanning the clouds as the wind whipped around them.

“Thena?” Hermes whispered, his voice trembling. His wings fluttered at his ankles, feathers shaking as if anticipating flight. “You can’t! He’ll punish you!”

Athena’s eyes never left the horizon. “Let him try,” she murmured, her voice like the edge of a blade. Her shield appeared in her hand with a flash of light, her fingers curling around its edge with familiar confidence. “We’re not leaving you.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his eyes wide and panicked. “No…no, you don’t have to do this.” He reached out, his hands brushing against their shoulders. “Please, you don’t have to risk yourselves for me.”

Apollo’s hand moved from Hermes' arm to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Yes, we do.”

Hermes shook his head, his wings fluttering desperately. “You don’t understand! He, he’ll make you suffer. He’ll strip your titles. He’ll–”

“He can try,” Athena interrupted, her voice sharp and unyielding. She glanced back, her eyes meeting Hermes', her gaze fierce and unwavering. “I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

Hermes' eyes filled with tears, his wings trembling. “Thena, Polly, you don’t have to do this. I’m not…I’m not worth this.”

Apollo’s hand squeezed harder, his eyes flashing with something raw and unyielding. “You are.”

Hermes shook his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “No. I’m not, I’m not worth you losing everything!”

Athena turned fully then, her shield glimmering in the dim light, her eyes blazing. “You’re worth it,” she said firmly, her voice steady and unbreakable. “You always were.”

Hermes stared at her, his breath hitching. “But…Zeus…he’ll–”

“Let him try,” Apollo interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. His hand didn’t leave Hermes' shoulder. “We’re not letting you go.”

Hermes' wings flickered, his eyes brimming with disbelief and fear. “You can’t…you can’t stand up to him. He’s…he’s Zeus.”

Athena’s gaze turned back to the horizon, her hand tightening on her shield. “He is,” she replied smoothly. “But he’s not the only one with power.”

The wind howled louder, a crackle of energy sparking in the air. Hermes flinched, his wings curling in tight, but neither Apollo nor Athena moved. They stood firm, shoulders squared, bodies angled to protect him from whatever came.

“You don’t have to do this,” Hermes whispered, his voice breaking. “Please…don’t risk yourselves for me.”

Apollo glanced back at him, his eyes burning with determination. “I’m not risking anything,” he replied. “I’m protecting my brother.”

Athena nodded, her gaze fixed forward. “And I’m protecting mine.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his wings shaking. “I-I don’t deserve–”

“Stop,” Apollo murmured, his voice firm. “You do.”

The air grew heavier, the wind swirling around them, picking up dust and petals from the field. The sunlight flickered, dimming and brightening as if the very sky couldn’t decide what to do.

Athena adjusted her grip on her shield, her eyes never leaving the horizon. “Get ready,” she murmured, her voice smooth and unyielding.

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings trembling. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

Apollo’s hand found his shoulder again, squeezing firmly. “Don’t be.”

A flash of lightning cracked across the sky, splitting the horizon with white-hot light. Thunder followed, deep and rumbling, shaking the earth beneath their feet. The wind roared, swirling around them like a living thing.

And then, in the distance, a figure began to take shape. Dark and imposing, framed by the storm clouds that rolled in behind him. The air grew colder, sharper, the scent of ozone creeping in and stinging their noses.

Hermes' wings curled tighter, his breath coming in sharp, staccato bursts. Apollo’s hand remained firm on his shoulder, Athena’s shield raised just slightly, her eyes locked on the approaching figure.

Hermes swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s here.”

The figure grew clearer with every step, dark and imposing, his stride unyielding as the very earth seemed to quake beneath him. Thunder cracked above them, sharp and splintering, shaking the ground as if nature itself bowed to his presence. The storm clouds gathered thick and heavy, swirling behind him like an unspoken threat.

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings trembling violently at his ankles, but Apollo’s hand remained steady on his shoulder, grounding him with an unyielding grip. Athena stepped forward, her shield rising just slightly, eyes sharp and unblinking.

Zeus stopped several paces away, his gaze sweeping over them, icy and unyielding. The air crackled with energy, the scent of ozone sharp and stinging. He didn’t speak at first, just stared, his eyes like distant storms brewing on the horizon.

“Athena. Apollo,” he greeted, his voice smooth but laced with iron. “Go home.”

Neither moved.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders squaring. “I said, go home.” His voice thundered across the field, echoing off the distant hills.

Athena did not flinch. Her shield remained raised, her stance firm. “No.”

Zeus’s gaze snapped to her, eyes flashing. “I wasn’t asking.”

Athena’s chin tilted up, her eyes blazing with defiance. “And I wasn’t offering.”

A crack of lightning split the sky, streaking down behind Zeus in a jagged line of white-hot light. He didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers, his hands curling into fists. “You dare to defy me again, Daughter?”

Athena did not blink. “I do.”

Apollo stepped forward, his hand still firm on Hermes' shoulder. “And so do I.” His voice was steady, firm, and unyielding. His eyes burned with something Hermes hadn’t seen in him for a long time; a fierce, unshakable loyalty.

Zeus’s eyes flickered to him, his expression hardening. “You’ve always been a fool,” he sneered, the words dripping with venom. “Do you honestly think you can protect him? From me?”

Apollo’s grip tightened on Hermes' shoulder, his gaze never faltering. “I don’t think it,” he replied smoothly. “I know it.”

Zeus took a step forward, his presence washing over them like the rumble of a coming storm. The air grew thicker, heavier, pressing down on their shoulders like invisible hands. “You will leave,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not defy me.”

Athena’s shield shimmered with light, the edge glimmering with divine energy. “I think you’ll find,” she said calmly, “that we already are.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his wings trembling, his eyes locked on the ground. “Thena,” he whispered desperately, his voice cracking. “You don’t have to–”

“Yes, I do,” she interrupted, her gaze still locked on Zeus. “I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, sparks of lightning crackling at his fingertips. “You should be,” he growled, the sky rumbling with his words. “You all should be.”

He stepped forward, the ground quaking beneath him, but Apollo did not move. His hand remained steady on Hermes' shoulder, his gaze locked on Zeus with unyielding resolve. “Not anymore,” Apollo said quietly. “Not for him.”

Zeus’s gaze flickered, his eyes landing on Hermes, who flinched instinctively, his wings curling inward. Zeus’s expression twisted with something sharp and dangerous. “And you,” he snarled, his voice like rolling thunder. “An exile…flaunting himself before gods like he still belongs. Do you think you are above me, boy?”

Hermes stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His wings trembled, shaking violently at his ankles. “I-I”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed. “I asked you a question.” His voice cracked through the air like a whip. “Why does an exile not show the proper respect to his King?”

Hermes sucked in a breath, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the wind. “I’m sorry.” His wings shivered, and slowly, painfully, he bent forward, dropping to his knees in the grass, his hands splayed out before him. His head bowed, his wings curling around his ankles and lying flat against his head like broken feathers. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

Apollo’s hand dropped from his shoulder, fists clenching at his sides. “What are you doing?” he hissed, his eyes wide and burning. “Hermes, you don’t–”

“Silence!” Zeus roared, the sky splintering with lightning. “This is the order of things. I am King. And this…” he gestured sharply at Hermes, trembling on his knees. “This is what is required of him.”

Hermes kept his head bowed, his breath shaking with every exhale. His wings fluttered weakly, the feathers trembling like dead leaves.

Apollo’s fists shook, his eyes blazing with fury. “You can’t do this to him,” he snarled, stepping forward, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You can’t treat him like this!”

Zeus turned his gaze on Apollo, his expression sharp and unyielding. “I can do whatever I damn well please.” His voice was smooth and venomous, his eyes sparking with raw power. “And I would think you’d know that by now.”

Apollo stepped forward again, his breath ragged with rage. “He’s your son!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “You can’t just throw him away like he doesn’t matter!”

Zeus’s expression turned cold, his eyes locking with Apollo’s. “I can and I have,” he replied smoothly, his gaze flickering back to Hermes, still bowed and trembling. “And I should think you’d learn to be careful. His poison is spreading.” He gestured to Athena, who stood unmoving, her shield still raised, eyes blazing. “Corrupting his own siblings. Turning them against me.”

Hermes flinched, his wings shivering. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

Zeus stepped forward, his sandals crunching the wildflowers underfoot, their petals wilting in his presence. “Look at you,” he sneered, his voice sharp and cutting. “Groveling in the dirt like a common beggar.” He circled Hermes slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. “It suits you.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings fluttering weakly. His head remained bowed, eyes fixed on the ground.

Athena’s shield shimmered with light, her knuckles white against its edge. “You don’t get to speak to him like that,” she growled, her voice steady but simmering with rage.

Zeus didn’t even spare her a glance. “I can speak to him however I please,” he replied smoothly, his gaze locked on Hermes. He took another step forward, the ground seeming to hum beneath his feet. “He’s nothing but a shadow now. A failure. A mistake.”

Hermes flinched, his wings curling inward. “I-I’m sorry…” he whispered, the words slipping out like instinct, like muscle memory.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Zeus sneered, his eyes flashing with light. “Sorry for wasting my time. Sorry for disobeying my rules.”

Hermes' wings trembled, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He ducked his head lower, his hands splayed out before him in the dirt. “I-I didn’t mean–”

“Didn’t mean what?” Zeus demanded, his voice cracking like a whip. “Didn’t mean to embarrass me? To disgrace me with your pathetic antics?”

Hermes' hands curled into fists against the dirt, his wings shivering. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice breaking.

Apollo stepped forward, his fists clenched. “That’s enough.” His voice was low, controlled, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.

Zeus turned to him, his expression amused. “Enough?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m here to listen to you, boy?”

Apollo’s eyes narrowed, his hands shaking. “You can’t treat him like this.”

Zeus stepped forward, his height towering over Apollo, shadows stretching long and jagged over the grass. “I can and I will,” he replied, his voice soft and venomous. “And you…you are hardly one to tell me otherwise.”

Apollo didn’t flinch. He held his ground, eyes blazing with defiance. “He’s your son.”

Zeus barked out a laugh, the sound sharp and jagged. “He is not my son,” he snarled, his voice crackling with power. “He is a mistake.”

Hermes sucked in a breath, his wings shivering. “No…” he whispered, the word slipping out unbidden.

Athena stepped forward, her shield shimmering. “He is your son!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like the edge of a blade. “You don’t get to disown him just because–”

“ENOUGH!” Zeus roared, his voice shaking the ground beneath them. Lightning crackled across the sky, splitting it open in jagged lines of white-hot light. Athena flinched but held her ground, her shield still raised, her eyes burning with fury.

Zeus’s eyes locked back onto Hermes, his expression twisting with disdain. “Look at you,” he sneered. “Cowering. Shaking in the dirt like a dog.” He stepped closer, the air rippling with his presence. “Is this what you’ve been reduced to? Groveling at the feet of mortals? Latching on to anyone who will pity you?”

Hermes trembled, his wings curling tighter. “I…I didn’t–”

“You think you belong here?” Zeus snarled, his voice sharp and unyielding. “You think that crawling to the edges of the world will make you matter again? You are nothing.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You will be nothing until I decide you can be a god again. Then you will matter.”

Apollo’s fists clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing with fury. “Stop it,” he growled, his voice shaking with the effort to remain steady.

Zeus ignored him, his eyes still locked on Hermes. “I gave you everything,” he continued, his voice low and venomous. “And you threw it away. For what? For mortals? For scraps of affection from those who don’t even remember your name?”

Hermes' wings fluttered, his eyes squeezed shut. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Zeus laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. “Of course you are.” He straightened, his gaze sweeping over Apollo and Athena. “Look at you two. Falling to his level. Letting him corrupt you.” His gaze flickered back to Hermes, eyes flashing with light. “That’s all you are. Poison.”

Apollo stepped forward, his hands shaking with rage. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you talk about him like that.”

Zeus’s eyes flickered with amusement. “You think you can protect him?” he sneered. “From me?”

Apollo didn’t flinch. “I know I can.”

Zeus took a step forward, his presence pressing down on them like a physical weight. “You are children playing with fire,” he murmured, his voice smooth and poisonous. “Step away. Before you burn.”

Athena lifted her shield higher, her gaze unwavering. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Zeus’s eyes darkened, his expression twisting with fury. “You would throw away everything for this?” He gestured sharply at Hermes, who was still shaking in the grass, wings curled tight. “For him?”

Athena didn’t falter. “Yes.”

Apollo’s hands flexed at his sides, his voice steady and unyielding. “He’s worth it.”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed to slits, the air thickening with static. “I will not allow this to continue.”

Hermes flinched, his wings fluttering desperately. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice shaking. “I’m so sorry…”

Apollo’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Don’t apologize,” he murmured, his voice fierce and unyielding. “You don’t owe him anything.”

Zeus’s gaze sharpened, his eyes burning with light. “You,” he growled, voice crackling with thunder. “You are nothing but a leech. A parasite. And I will tear you out.”

Hermes stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. But Apollo’s hand didn’t falter, and Athena’s shield remained high.

“We’re not leaving him,” Athena declared, her voice ringing clear and strong. “Not now. Not ever.”

The storm above them roared, the sky splitting with jagged streaks of lightning that spiderwebbed across the clouds. The air was thick with static, humming with raw, unyielding energy. Zeus’s eyes burned with divine fury, his hands crackling with lightning as he stepped forward, each footfall shaking the very earth beneath them.

Apollo didn’t move. His hands remained at his sides, burning with sunlight, eyes fixed on his father with an unyielding glare. Athena stood firm, her shield shimmering with light, her eyes locked on Zeus with a defiance that had never wavered. Hermes, still trembling between them, clutched at Apollo’s arm, his wings fluttering wildly.

“You are fools,” Zeus spat, his voice a thunderclap that reverberated through their bones. “You think you can protect him? From me?”

Athena raised her chin, eyes sharp and unyielding. “We already are.”

Zeus’s gaze snapped to her, eyes narrowing to slits. His hands flexed, lightning crackling between his fingers, brighter and sharper than any star in the sky. “Enough.” His voice rippled through the air, snapping branches off trees and sending petals scattering from the wildflowers. “I will not be defied by children.”

Hermes flinched, his wings curling tighter. “Thena, Pollo, please.”

Athena stepped forward, her shield blazing with light. “You don’t get to hurt him anymore.”

Zeus’s eyes blazed with fury. “You would stand against me? Your own father?”

Athena didn’t falter. “If you think what you are doing now is fatherly, then yes.” Her voice cut through the air like a blade. “I will stand against you.”

A flicker of something sharp and wild crossed Zeus’s face. He straightened, his hands sparking with raw energy, fingers curling around bolts of lightning. “Then you will fall.”

He raised his hand, the lightning coiling around his fingers, crackling with raw, divine power. Hermes cried out, stumbling back, his wings flaring out in instinctive fear. Athena’s shield rose higher, its surface shimmering with divine light, and Apollo stepped in front of Hermes, his hands blazing with sunlight.

But Zeus did not pause. His hand crackled with lightning, the power arcing and snapping like a living thing. He raised his arm higher, his eyes burning with divine fury. “I should have done this a long time ago,” he snarled. “Let this be a lesson to you. All of you.”

The lightning crackled louder, growing brighter and brighter until it was blinding, streaking across his fingertips like tendrils of raw light. Hermes' wings shivered, his hands clutching at Apollo’s back, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts. “I’m sorry,” he whispered desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

Apollo squeezed his hand. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings still trembling. “But–”

“Not for existing,” Athena growled, her shield held firm. “Not ever.”

Zeus’s eyes blazed with light. “You can suffer with him,” he snarled. His hand came down, the lightning streaking forward in a flash of blinding white–

And struck an impenetrable wall of darkness.

The shadows erupted from the earth like living tendrils, swirling and thickening into a wall of pure midnight. The lightning crackled against it, sparking and splitting, but it did not pierce through. It splintered, arcing back toward the sky, scattering in wild, jagged lines.

Zeus took a step back, eyes wide with disbelief. “What is this?”

From the shadows, a figure stepped forward, tall and regal, his eyes burning with a deep, simmering fire. His hands were tucked neatly behind his back, his expression calm but unyielding. The shadows curled around his feet, spreading out like the roots of an ancient tree.

Hades.

“Hermes,” he greeted calmly, his voice smooth and even. His gaze flickered over Apollo and Athena, nodding with what almost looked like approval. “You seem to have found some loyal company.”

Hermes blinked, his wings fluttering wildly. “Uncle?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Hades' gaze turned back to Zeus, his expression smoothing over into a mask of cool indifference. “Brother,” he greeted, his tone entirely devoid of warmth. “Still throwing lightning at children, I see.”

Zeus’s eyes flickered with fury, the lightning crackling at his fingertips casting jagged shadows across the field. His gaze locked with Hades', sharp and unyielding. “This isn’t your territory, Brother,” he snarled, his voice crackling with static. “You have no claim here.”

Hades' smile remained steady, a touch of something dangerous glimmering in his eyes. “Territory isn’t the issue,” he replied smoothly, his hands still clasped behind his back. The shadows at his feet rippled like waves, stretching outwards, brushing over the tips of the wildflowers. “I didn’t come here for land.”

Zeus’s eyes narrowed. “Then why are you here?”

Hades' gaze flickered to Hermes, whose wings still trembled but now with a little less desperation. Then to Apollo, whose hands were still clenched, sunlight sparking from his fingertips. And finally, to Athena, whose shield remained high, unwavering and bright. “I came because you seem to have forgotten something important,” he replied, his voice even and calm. “They are mine to protect.”

Zeus sneered, his eyes flashing with light. “Yours?”

Hades stepped forward, the shadows following him like living tendrils, curling at the edges of his feet. His expression didn’t waver. “Mine,” he affirmed, voice like the deep rumble of the earth. “As long as they stand with Hermes, they are under my protection.” His eyes locked with Zeus’s, cool and unyielding. “You do not get to touch them.”

Athena’s eyes widened, her shield still raised, but the faintest flicker of surprise flashed across her features. Apollo’s fists unclenched just slightly, his hands still sparking with light but no longer shaking. Hermes stood between them, his breath coming in shallow bursts, but the tension in his shoulders loosened just a fraction.

Zeus laughed, a low, dangerous sound that crackled with thunder. “You think you can protect them?” His voice rang out across the field, shaking the wildflowers and sending petals scattering. “You think your little shadows can hold back Olympus?”

Hades did not blink. His gaze remained locked on Zeus, his eyes sharp and glimmering with dark fire. “Try me.”

Notes:

Zeus is back…and still mean. But we got to see the siblings standing up for Hermes a bit! And a bit of Hades at the end.

Hope you enjoyed!!

Now, go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 55

Summary:

Time to make Zeus back down. Does it work? Find out :)

Zeus’s eyes flared, his hands sparking with lightning that crackled in violent arcs. “You have no right–”

 

“I have every right,” Hades interrupted, his voice low and unyielding. His shadows swirled, pooling like ink across the grass. “I am the Lord of the Underworld. I govern death and all that lies beneath the earth.” His gaze flickered to Hermes, then back to Zeus. “And I have watched you torment your own blood for long enough.”

 

Zeus’s eyes burned with light, his hands sparking. “You overstep your bounds, Brother.”

 

Hades tilted his head, a slow, deliberate gesture. “Do I?” His shadows curled tighter, creeping forward until they brushed against Zeus’s feet. “Then push me back.”

 

The two gods stood still, the crackle of lightning and the whisper of shadows swirling between them. Zeus’s fists clenched, the sparks at his fingertips growing brighter, harsher. But Hades did not flinch. He did not waver. His gaze was unyielding, his stance relaxed, as though Zeus’s display of power was nothing more than a child’s tantrum.

 

“You cannot make me undo what I’ve done,” Zeus hissed, his voice vibrating with power. “You cannot force me.”

 

Hades sighed, his shoulders lowering slightly, not in defeat, but in acceptance, in knowing that Zeus was right about that. “I know,” he replied, his voice smooth and almost…bored. “You are still the King of the Gods.” His gaze did not waver, eyes glimmering with that deep, unspoken power. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t protect them.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, the sky cracking with another streak of lightning. “And you think you can?” he sneered. “You think your shadows can hold back the King of the Gods?”

 

Hades' smile did not falter. “Would you like to test that theory?”

 

The air grew thick with tension, humming with unspoken power. The sky roared above them, lightning dancing in jagged lines across the horizon, but the shadows did not waver. They stood firm, unyielding, curling protectively around Hermes, Apollo, and Athena.

 

Hermes stood frozen, his wings trembling but no longer with abject terror. He looked up, his gaze flickering between Hades and Zeus, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “Uncle…?”

 

Hades' gaze did not waver from Zeus, but his voice softened just slightly. “You are under my protection, Hermes, remember.” His eyes flickered to Apollo, then to Athena. “All of you are.”

 

Zeus’s fists clenched, the arcs of lightning snapping and sparking between his fingers. “You cannot challenge me,” he growled, his voice echoing across the field. “You cannot defy me.”

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his expression smooth and almost amused. “I just did.”

 

The air grew colder, sharper, the weight of power pressing down on them like a shroud. But the shadows did not waver, and neither did Hades. He stood tall, the tendrils of darkness swirling around him like living shadows, unyielding and unbreakable.

 

“Leave,” Hades said, his voice soft but dripping with finality. “Or test me.”

 

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching long and heavy across the field. Zeus’s gaze flared with rage, his fists shaking with the weight of his power. But he did not move.

 

The sky crackled with lightning, jagged streaks splitting the clouds in searing flashes of white-hot light. Thunder rolled in waves, shaking the earth beneath them, but Hades did not move. His shadows spread out like living tendrils, curling protectively around Hermes, Apollo, and Athena, unyielding and absolute.

 

Zeus’s eyes blazed with fury, his fists crackling with raw, unchecked power. He took a step forward, the ground trembling beneath his feet, but Hades only tilted his head, the shadows rippling in response.

 

“You overstep your bounds, Brother,” Zeus snarled, his voice snapping through the air like a whip. “You think you can shield them from me? From what they deserve?”

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his expression smooth and entirely unruffled. “I think,” he replied calmly, his voice low and unyielding, “that you’ve done enough.” His shadows curled tighter, settling around Athena, Apollo, and Hermes like wings of ink and midnight.

 

Zeus’s gaze snapped to Apollo, lightning flashing across his eyes. “And you,” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “I always knew you were weak. Too soft. Too attached.” His expression twisted with something sharp and cutting. “It’s no wonder you fell so easily.”

 

Apollo didn’t flinch. His hands sparked with sunlight, and his eyes remained locked on his father’s, unyielding and resolute. “Fell?” he repeated, his voice smooth and even. “If protecting my brother means falling, then I’ll do it every damn time.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flashed, sparks of lightning licking at his fingertips. “You always were a fool,” he sneered, the storm raging behind him like a mirror of his own fury. “Following him around like a lost pup, desperate for scraps of affection. Look at you now.” He gestured sharply to the shadows coiling around them. “Pathetic.”

 

Apollo did not waver, his hands steady, his eyes fierce. But Hermes…Hermes flinched. His wings trembled at his ankles, feathers shivering as if caught in a gale. His breath stuttered, and he ducked his head, his gaze dropping to the ground.

 

“This is my fault,” he whispered, voice cracking with the weight of it. His hands trembled at his sides, curling into fists. “If I had just…if I hadn’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut, his wings fluttering weakly. “I should have kept my distance.”

 

Apollo turned sharply, his eyes blazing with something fierce and unyielding. “Don’t you dare,” he whispered, his voice shaking with intensity. He stepped in front of Hermes, hands still sparking with warm light. “Don’t you dare blame this on yourself.”

 

Hermes' gaze remained locked on the ground, his wings still trembling. “I made you defy him,” he murmured, voice fragile and cracking. “You wouldn’t have…you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me.” His breath shuddered out of him in ragged bursts, his shoulders curling inward. “I-I’m hurting you.”

 

Athena’s eyes flickered with something sharp and unyielding. “You didn’t make us do anything,” she said firmly, her shield shining brighter with divine light. “We chose to stand with you. We always will.”

 

Zeus scoffed, his gaze sweeping over the three of them with undisguised contempt. “Look at you,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Clinging to him like he’s something worth saving.” He laughed, the sound sharp and venomous. “Pathetic.”

 

Hades stepped forward, shadows curling tighter around Hermes, Apollo, and Athena. His gaze was locked on Zeus, his eyes glimmering with dark fire. “That’s enough,” he murmured, his voice soft but final.

 

Zeus’s gaze snapped back to him, his fists still crackling with lightning. “You think you can stop me?” he sneered, his eyes burning with light. “You think you can shield them from my wrath?”

 

Hades' expression did not falter. He stepped forward, his hands still clasped neatly behind his back. “I do.”

 

The words hung heavy in the air, stretching across the field. Zeus’s gaze snapped to Hermes, who still trembled between Apollo and Athena, his wings shivering against his ankles. “You’re weak,” Zeus spat, his voice dripping with venom. “You always have been.”

 

Hermes flinched, his wings curling tighter, but Apollo and Athena stepped closer, their presence warm and grounding. “Not anymore,” Apollo murmured, his voice like sunlight through the storm.

 

Zeus’s eyes blazed with fury, his hands sparking with raw, unrestrained power. “You think this changes anything?” he demanded, his voice rolling like thunder. “You think you’re safe?” He laughed, the sound sharp and jagged. “He is still an exile. Nothing you do will change that.”

 

Hades took another step forward, his shadows spreading across the grass like living tendrils. “Maybe not,” he replied smoothly. “But as long as I stand here, you will not win. You will not hurt them.”

 

The silence that followed was deafening. Zeus’s hands crackled with power, the arcs of lightning flaring and snapping around his fingertips. His gaze flickered to the shadows, curling around his children like living things. His eyes blazed with fury, but he did not step forward. He did not move.

 

Hades watched him, his gaze calm and unyielding. “Go home, Brother,” he murmured, his voice dripping with finality. “This is a fight you cannot win.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists crackling with energy. “You think you’ve won?” he snarled, his voice splitting the air like a crack of thunder. “You think you can protect them from me?” His gaze flickered to Apollo, to Athena, then to Hermes, still trembling between his siblings. The god king’s eyes narrowed, sparking with something sharp and malevolent.

 

Hades did not blink. His gaze remained locked on Zeus, his expression smooth and unyielding. “Try me,” he murmured, his voice a whisper of dark power.

 

The clouds above rumbled, shifting and sparking with light. Zeus’s hands flared brighter, the arcs of electricity whipping around his fingertips like living snakes. His gaze flickered back to Hermes, who still stood between Athena and Apollo, wings shivering at his ankles, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “You think you’re safe?” Zeus sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “You think shadows will save you?”

 

Hermes flinched, his wings fluttering against his calves. His breath stuttered out of him in shallow, uneven bursts, and his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, the words slipping out unbidden. His fingers curled into fists, and he ducked his head lower, instinctively trying to make himself smaller.

 

“Don’t,” Apollo whispered fiercely, his hand tightening on Hermes' shoulder. “Just, stop apologizing, Herms. Please.”

 

Athena’s eyes narrowed, her shield flaring brighter. “You don’t get to touch him anymore,” she growled, her voice cutting through the chaos like the sharp edge of a blade.

 

Zeus laughed, low and dangerous. His eyes flickered with lightning, the arcs sparking off his hands and splintering into the ground. “You think you can protect him?” he sneered. His gaze flickered to Apollo, his lips curling with disdain. “How about you, boy? You think you’re strong enough?”

 

Apollo’s hands sparked with sunlight, his gaze unyielding. “I know I am.”

 

Zeus’s sneer only deepened. “Let’s see.”

 

Before anyone could move, before anyone could so much as breathe, Zeus raised his hand, lightning crackling up his arm, pooling in his palm like living fire. The energy crackled and hissed, bright and terrible, growing hotter and brighter with every second.

 

Hermes' breath caught, his wings snapping open instinctively, trembling with the force of the storm raging above. “N-no…no, please–”

 

Apollo stepped in front of him, his hands blazing with sunlight, but even his fingers shook. Athena held her shield high, the light shimmering with divine power, but her eyes darted to Hades, just for a fraction of a second, searching for his reaction.

 

Hades did not move. His shadows rippled gently at his feet, swirling like living things. His eyes were locked on Zeus, unblinking, unyielding.

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with power. “Watch closely,” he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. “Watch how easy it would be.”

 

He threw the lightning.

 

It cracked through the air like the sky splitting open, a jagged streak of white-hot light that tore through the space between them. It moved faster than thought, streaking toward the trio with vicious, unrelenting speed.

 

Hermes screamed. He shrinked instinctively, wings curling tight against his calves, his hands coming up to shield his head. Apollo moved in front of him, his hands flaring with sunlight, and Athena’s shield blazed with divine light, but neither had to act.

 

Because the lightning did not reach them.

 

The shadows erupted like a wave, surging forward in a wall of pure darkness, thick and unyielding. The lightning slammed into it, splintering off in jagged arcs, streaking back into the sky with a crack that shook the heavens. The field around them sizzled with residual energy, the grass scorched and smoldering, but the trio remained untouched.

 

Hades did not blink. He stood tall, his hands still clasped behind his back, his gaze locked on Zeus with something like disdain. “Is that the best you’ve got? You seem to have the one trick, brother. I thought you were the mighty King of the Gods.” he asked, his voice smooth and almost amused.

 

Zeus’s eyes blazed with fury, his fists sparking with power. “You cannot shield them forever,” he snarled, his voice shaking the air around them. “I will get to them.”

 

Hades tilted his head, his shadows rippling around his feet like ink spreading over water. “You’re welcome to try,” he replied smoothly. He took a step forward, shadows swirling behind him like wings of midnight. “But I promise you, Brother…” His eyes glimmered with dark fire. “You won’t like the outcome.”

 

Zeus’s fists clenched, the arcs of lightning snapping between his fingers like live wires. His gaze flickered to Athena and Apollo, both still standing resolute beside Hermes, and his sneer returned. “You think I can’t touch you? I don’t need to do it here,” he spat, his eyes blazing with light. “The moment you step back onto Olympus, you’re mine.”

 

Hades did not blink. His shadows curled tighter, the tendrils wrapping around Hermes' ankles, brushing gently over his wings. He stepped forward, his eyes locked on Zeus. “I dare you,” he said softly, his voice low and deadly. “I dare you to try and hurt either of them.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared, but he did not move.

 

Hades stepped closer, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “In fact, I hope you do,” he whispered, his voice a thread of steel. “You’ll find that those I protect are not hurt easily.” His eyes flickered with something sharp and ancient, something old as time. “Unlike you, I care about my family more than my own image.” His shadows rippled, curling tighter. “I’m not afraid to love my family and help them.” He took another step, his gaze locking with Zeus’s. “Unlike you, my family does not have to fear me.”

 

The silence that followed was suffocating, stretching long and heavy between them. Zeus’s hands still crackled with power, his eyes blazing with fury, but he did not move.

 

Hades only smiled. “Go home, Brother,” he murmured, his voice a whisper of finality. “Or try me.”

 

The storm roared above, its fury echoing through the heavens, streaks of lightning still jagged across the sky. The grass around them smoldered from the strike, smoke curling into the air in thin, whispering trails. But the trio remained untouched, shadowed by Hades' unyielding protection.

 

Hermes' wings trembled violently against his ankles, still curled tight as if bracing for impact. His breath came in ragged bursts, his hands clenched at his sides, shaking so hard his fingers blanched white. His eyes were wide, fixed on the ground as if looking anywhere else would shatter him entirely.

 

“Hermes?” Athena’s voice was sharp, cutting through the roar of thunder. She turned her head, her eyes flaring with worry as she saw him. His knees were bent, his wings trembling, his hands shaking violently. She took a step back, her shield still held high. “Apollo,”

 

Apollo didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees beside Hermes, sunlight still sparking at his fingertips but dimming in his focus. His hands found Hermes' shoulders, grounding and steady, pulling him closer. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmured, his voice softening, warming. He pulled Hermes against his chest, wrapping his arms around him, shielding him from the view of Zeus and the storm beyond. “I’m here, Herms. I’ve got you.”

 

Hermes shuddered, his breath coming out in stuttering bursts, wings still trembling. “I-I thought…” His voice was paper-thin, fragile. He pressed his face into Apollo’s shoulder, his hands clinging to his brother’s tunic with a desperation that made Apollo’s heart break. “I thought–”

 

“I know,” Apollo soothed, his hands running over Hermes' back, gentle and grounding. “I know.” His gaze flickered up to Athena, who stood firm, shield still held high, her expression sharp and unyielding. She nodded once, her eyes saying more than words could convey.

 

“I’ve got him,” Apollo whispered, his grip on Hermes tightening. “You protect. I’ve got him.”

 

Athena’s gaze softened, just barely. “Good,” she replied, her voice sharp but not unkind. Her eyes flickered back to Zeus, who watched the exchange with a sneer twisting his mouth. “Comfort him. His scream…” She swallowed hard, her eyes hardening again. “Gods, Pollo.”

 

Apollo nodded, his hand smoothing down Hermes' back, over the trembling feathers at his ankles. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’ve got you, Hermes. I’m right here.”

 

Hermes shivered against him, his hands fisting tighter in Apollo’s tunic. “It would have hurt,” he whispered, his voice so soft Apollo barely caught it. “I thought it was going to hit us. I thought…” His wings trembled, pressing tighter against his legs, hardly moving atop his head. “I thought you were going to get hurt.”

 

Apollo’s hands moved to cup his brother’s face, gently pulling him back just enough to look him in the eye. “It didn’t,” he murmured, his voice low and fierce. “It didn’t, and it won’t.” He brushed his thumbs over Hermes' cheeks, grounding him, pulling him back. “I’m right here. So is Thena. We’re not leaving you.”

 

Hermes' breath came in ragged bursts, his eyes still glassy with fear. But he nodded, just barely, his wings fluttering weakly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“None of that,” Apollo whispered, his voice softening. “You don’t have to be sorry.” His hands moved gently, brushing back the curls from Hermes' face, smoothing down his wings. “You’re safe.”

 

Hades watched the scene unfold, his shadows still curling protectively around the trio. His gaze flickered back to Zeus, whose expression had twisted into something sharp and unyielding. Hades raised an eyebrow, his smile faint and razor-edged. “They’re closer than you remember,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You may have tried to break them, but you failed.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking with raw energy. “They will fall,” he spat, his gaze snapping back to Apollo, who was still cradling Hermes in his arms, whispering soft reassurances. “You cannot protect them forever.”

 

Hades only smiled. “Try me.”

 

The silence stretched long and heavy, thunder rumbling in distant echoes, lightning flashing in jagged streaks across the sky. But Hades did not move. His shadows remained unyielding, curling protectively around the trio, his expression calm and unwavering.

 

Apollo did not lift his gaze from Hermes, his hands still running over his brother’s trembling wings, whispering soft words that Zeus could not hear. Athena stood firm, shield high, eyes locked on her father with unyielding defiance. And Zeus watched them, his eyes sparking with raw, unrestrained fury, but he did not step forward.

 

Hermes' breath came in shallow bursts, his wings trembling against his calves, still curled tightly in on himself. Apollo’s hands were steady, smoothing over his back, his voice a constant whisper of soft reassurances. “I’m right here, Little Wing. I’ve got you.” His eyes flickered back to Athena, who stood sentinel with her shield still raised, her gaze locked on Zeus with something like grim determination.

 

Athena took a slow, measured breath, her hands steady on her shield. “You won’t touch him,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Not now. Not ever.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking with raw energy. “And you think you can stop me?” he snarled, his voice rolling like thunder across the field. His gaze snapped to Hades, who still stood calmly between them, shadows coiling at his feet. “You think this darkness will hold me back?” His eyes flared brighter, streaks of lightning snapping off his fingertips.

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his smile smooth and almost amused. “So far, it seems to be working.” His shadows rippled gently, stretching outwards, coiling tighter around the trio. He tilted his head, his gaze cool and unyielding. “Try it again, Brother,” he murmured, his voice like the whisper of death. “I’m quite enjoying watching you fail.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared, his fists blazing with light. He raised his hands, lightning crackling up his arms, the sky roaring with power. The clouds darkened, coiling with flashes of jagged light that rippled across the sky.

 

Apollo held Hermes tighter, his hands steady, his gaze never leaving Zeus. “It’s alright,” he murmured softly, his voice like sunlight cutting through the storm. “He can’t get through.”

 

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, his hands still clenched in Apollo’s tunic, his wings shaking violently. “I-I thought…he was going to–”

 

“I know,” Apollo whispered, his voice dropping to a gentle hum. “But he didn’t. He won’t.” He pulled Hermes closer, his hands smoothing over his trembling wings. “I’m right here. Thena’s right here. We’ve got you.”

 

Hermes' breath hitched, but he nodded, just barely, his fingers still fisted in Apollo’s tunic. His wings fluttered weakly, the edges brushing over Apollo’s hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice cracking.

 

“Stop apologizing,” Apollo murmured, his hand brushing over the delicate feathers of Hermes' ankle wings. “We’re right here. You don’t have to be sorry.”

 

Athena’s shield flared with divine light, and her gaze snapped back to Zeus. “You’re wasting your time,” she said coldly, her voice cutting through the storm. “You won’t get to him.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with fury, his fists blazing with light. He raised his hand again, lightning sparking at his fingertips, growing brighter and hotter with each heartbeat. “Enough,” he snarled, his voice vibrating with power. He threw his arm forward, arcs of lightning tearing through the sky, streaking toward the trio with jagged, unrelenting speed.

 

The shadows surged.

 

They erupted from Hades' feet like a wave, coiling through the air with a whisper of death. The lightning struck the darkness, splintering off in jagged arcs, ricocheting back into the sky with a crack that shook the ground beneath them. Smoke hissed from the edges of the grass, but the trio remained untouched, shadows curling tighter around them like living wings.

 

Hades did not blink. He raised an eyebrow, his gaze locked firmly on Zeus. “I’m growing tired of this,” he murmured, his voice smooth and unyielding. “Try something new.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared, his fists sparking with raw energy, but his gaze wavered. His fists clenched, the arcs of lightning snapping louder, brighter. “You cannot hold them forever,” he spat, his voice crackling with fury. “They will return to Olympus.”

 

Hades' expression did not flicker. His shadows only coiled tighter, curling protectively around Hermes, Apollo, and Athena. “And when they do, I dare you to touch them.” His smile was thin and sharp, like the edge of a blade. “I hope you try.”

 

Zeus’s hands flared brighter, light pouring from his fingertips, but his gaze flickered. His eyes darted between the three gods nestled in the shadows of Hades' protection, and something like hesitation flickered there. He clenched his fists tighter, the light growing hotter, sharper.

 

Hades raised a single hand. The shadows surged, pooling around his fingers like living ink. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice dropping to something cold and final. “I won’t allow it.”

 

The storm crackled and raged, but Zeus did not step forward. His hands sparked, his eyes flared, but the shadows remained unyielding, curling tighter, whispering around the trio like living threads of darkness.

 

Hermes shuddered against Apollo’s chest, his wings still trembling, but Apollo held him steady, his hands smoothing over his back. “I’ve got you,” Apollo whispered, his voice soft and unyielding. “We’re right here.”

 

Athena’s shield gleamed with light, her eyes locked firmly on Zeus. “You won’t touch him,” she said again, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Not now. Not ever.”

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his shadows whispering at his feet. “I think we’re done here,” he murmured, his gaze locked on Zeus. “Don’t you?”

 

The storm raged on, the clouds swirling with jagged arcs of lightning that split the sky in blinding streaks. Thunder rolled, shaking the ground beneath their feet, but Hades stood firm, his shadows swirling like living things, unyielding and absolute. Hermes still shuddered against Apollo’s chest, his breath coming in shallow bursts, his wings trembling at his ankles. But Apollo’s hands were steady, smoothing over his back, whispering soft reassurances.

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists crackling with energy. His gaze flickered between the three of them, Hermes trembling but held firm, Apollo glaring up at him with unyielding fire, and Athena standing tall, her shield shining like a beacon of defiance. His jaw clenched, his fists sparking brighter. “You think this will last?” he spat, his voice crackling like static. “You think he’ll protect you forever?”

 

Athena’s grip on her shield did not falter. “He doesn’t need to protect us forever,” she replied, her voice sharp and unyielding. “Just long enough for you to realize you’ve already lost.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking with arcs of white-hot lightning. “Lost?” he snarled, his voice shaking the air. “I am King of the Gods!” His voice thundered across the field, splitting the sky with another jagged streak of light. “I am Olympus!”

 

Hades tilted his head, his expression calm, almost pitying. “And yet,” he murmured, his shadows swirling at his feet, “you are standing here, raging, screaming, and powerless.”

 

Zeus’s fists sparked brighter, the arcs of light growing hotter, sharper. “I am not powerless!” he bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip. “I will make you regret this!” His gaze snapped to Apollo. “You think you can protect him?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “You were always weak. Hiding behind your songs and your sunlight.” His lips curled into a sneer. “Pathetic.”

 

Apollo did not flinch. His hand remained steady on Hermes' back, his gaze locked on Zeus. “Maybe,” he murmured, his voice soft and unyielding. “But I’m still here.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared brighter, arcs of lightning streaking up his arms. His gaze flickered to Athena, sharp and searing. “And you,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “You think you’re untouchable? Do you think you can hide behind Hades' shadows forever?” He stepped forward, the ground splintering beneath his feet. “I will tear that shield from your hands. I will–”

 

Athena raised her chin, her shield flaring brighter. “Try it,” she replied, her voice sharp and lethal. “I’ve been waiting.”

 

Zeus’s fists clenched, sparks snapping off his fingertips. His gaze snapped to Hermes, his expression twisting with something sharp and jagged. “And you,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’ve won?” He took a step forward, the shadows rippling around his feet but never allowing him closer. “You’re still nothing. A broken god with broken wings. Do you really think this changes anything?”

 

Hermes flinched, his wings trembling, but Apollo’s hands remained steady, his grip grounding and firm. “You don’t have to listen to him,” Apollo whispered, his voice soft and unyielding. “You’re more than he’ll ever understand.”

 

Zeus sneered, his eyes blazing with fury. “He’s nothing but a disgrace.” His voice spat venom, the lightning flaring around his fists. “An embarrassment to Olympus. A waste of divine blood.” His gaze flared brighter, his hands crackling with power. “And you,” he spat, turning his gaze back to Apollo. “Do you really think siding with him will do you any good? Do you think I won’t come for you?” His hands flared brighter, sparks snapping off his fingertips. “I can take everything from you.”

 

Apollo didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady, his hands smoothing over Hermes' back. “You already have,” he replied, his voice soft but firm. “And I’m still here.”

 

Zeus’s expression twisted, his eyes sparking with raw, unbridled fury. His fists flared with light, lightning arcing off his fingertips. “You think I’m finished?” he sneered, his voice crackling with power. “I am King of the Gods! You are nothing without me! Nothing!”

 

The words hung in the air, jagged and sharp, crackling with raw power. But none of them moved. Athena stood firm, her shield high, her gaze locked on her father with unyielding resolve. Apollo’s hands remained steady, his arms wrapped around Hermes, grounding and firm. Hermes still trembled, his wings fluttering at his ankles, but he did not step away. He did not flee.

 

Hades watched the exchange, his gaze calm and unyielding. His shadows remained tight around them, whispering across the grass like living things. “You’ve lost, Brother,” he murmured, his voice soft but final. “No matter what you say…you’ve already lost.”

 

Zeus’s fists clenched, the sparks flaring brighter, hotter. His eyes burned with light, his gaze flickering between them with raw, unchecked rage. But he did not step forward. His fists shook, arcs of light snapping off his hands, but his feet remained planted. His gaze flickered back to Hades, and the shadows that swirled at his feet.

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his smile smooth and edged with something sharp. “Go on,” he murmured, his voice smooth as midnight. “Try again.”

 

Zeus’s hands flared, his eyes blazing with power. But he did not move. His fists sparked, his eyes burned, but he did not step forward.

 

Athena took a slow, measured breath, her shield shining with divine light. “You can’t hurt him anymore,” she murmured, her voice soft but unyielding. “You’re finished.”

 

Zeus’s fists crackled with raw energy, but the sparks fizzled out, splintering into whispers of light that flickered and died. His gaze burned with fury, his hands still clenched at his sides, but he did not step forward. He did not move.

 

Hades raised an eyebrow, his shadows rippling gently. “You’re done here,” he murmured, his voice smooth and soft. “Go back to Olympus, Brother.” His gaze flickered to Hermes, who still trembled between Apollo and Athena, his wings fluttering weakly. “You’ve lost your grip.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared, but his hands fell to his sides. The storm raged on above them, but his fists no longer sparked with lightning. He did not move.

 

Apollo’s arms stayed firm around Hermes, his hands smoothing over his back, grounding and steady. Athena remained beside them, her shield high, her eyes sharp and unyielding. But Hermes…Hermes' breath came out in soft, shallow bursts, his wings fluttering weakly at his ankles. His gaze was locked on the ground, his hands fisted in Apollo’s tunic, trembling.

 

But then he moved.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Hermes' hands released their hold on Apollo’s tunic. His wings gave a weak flutter, the feathers brushing against the grass. He took a breath, shaky and thin, but deep. His hands moved to brace against Apollo’s chest, and he pushed himself upright, steadying his feet beneath him. Apollo’s hands immediately hovered around him, ready to catch him if he faltered, but Hermes stood tall. His wings trembled, but he did not collapse. His hands shook, but he did not flinch.

 

He took a step forward. Then another. His wings fluttered behind him, the edges brushing over the grass like whispers of silk. His gaze lifted, locking with Zeus’s. There was fear there, raw and sharp, but there was also something else. Something unyielding. Something brave.

 

Zeus raised an eyebrow, his fists sparking with light. “What do you think you’re doing?” he sneered, his voice sharp and jagged. “You think you have something to say to me?”

 

Hermes did not flinch. His wings trembled at his ankles, but he did not drop his gaze. He took another step forward, his breath shuddering out of him in sharp bursts. “I do.”

 

The field went still. Even the shadows seemed to pause, curling gently around Hades' feet, whispering across the grass. Zeus’s expression twisted with disdain, his eyes sparking with light. “You?” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “You have something to say? Your place is to kneel before the gods. To beg for forgiveness and know that your punishment will last as long as I declare.”

 

Hermes' breath came out shaky, but his eyes did not waver. His wings fluttered behind him, brushing softly against his calves. “I…” He swallowed, his voice cracking just slightly. But he did not falter. “I never meant to hurt you, Father.” The word came out soft and fragile, like it might shatter in his mouth.

 

Zeus’s sneer only deepened, but Hermes did not back down. “I always tried so hard to please you,” he continued, his voice stronger now, threading with something firm and unyielding. “I ran myself ragged, delivering messages, gifts, and letters across the world.” He took another step forward, his wings fluttering with the movement. “I did it because I hoped you’d care.” His voice cracked, but he pressed on. “I did it because I hoped it would please you.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking, but he did not move. He did not step forward. Hermes swallowed hard, his wings shivering at his ankles, but he kept going. “But it never did,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I was never good enough for you. I don’t…I don’t know where I went wrong.”

 

A hush fell over the field. The storm crackled above, whispering with static, but no one moved. No one spoke. Hermes' breath shuddered out of him in shallow bursts, his wings trembling, but he held firm. “I don’t know why you stopped loving me.” His voice cracked, splintered. His wings fluttered weakly. “But when you cast me out, when you threw me aside without so much as a second glance…” His hands curled into fists, his wings flaring just slightly. “That isn’t love.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking again. “You dare–”

 

“That isn’t love,” Hermes repeated, his voice stronger now, sharper. His wings fluttered at his ankles, feathers brushing over the grass. He took another step forward, his gaze locked with Zeus’s. “What I have here, in Ithaca? That’s love. That’s family.”

 

A murmur rippled through the shadows, soft and whispering. Hades' expression was unreadable, but his gaze flickered to Hermes with something like pride. Athena’s shield flared brighter, light sparking off its surface, and Apollo’s hands remained steady, his gaze locked on his little brother with something shining and fierce.

 

Zeus’s fists flared brighter, the arcs of lightning snapping louder, but his gaze faltered. Just slightly. His eyes flickered to the shadows that curled protectively around Hermes, the shield that blazed in Athena’s grip, the sunlight sparking off Apollo’s fingertips. His sneer wavered, just for a heartbeat.

 

Hermes did not falter. His breath came out shaky and thin, but he held his ground. “What I have here is love,” he whispered, his voice strong and sure. “My family.” His wings flared, stretching out just slightly, fluttering with the movement. “My real family.”

 

The silence stretched long and heavy. Zeus’s fists crackled with light, his eyes blazing with fury, but he did not move. He did not step forward.

 

Hades' shadows curled tighter, whispering over the grass like living things. His gaze flickered to Hermes, and he raised an eyebrow, almost like he was waiting for Zeus to say something.

 

But Zeus did not speak. His fists flared, the sparks snapping at his fingertips, but he did not move. He did not step forward.

 

Hermes stood tall, his wings trembling at his ankles, but he did not step back. He did not flinch. “You’ve lost,” he whispered, his voice soft but unyielding. “I’m not yours anymore.”

 

The silence hung thick and heavy, stretching across the field like the static charge of a coming storm. Zeus stood rigid, his fists still sparking with raw energy, arcs of lightning snapping off his fingertips, sizzling against the scorched grass beneath him. His gaze burned with fury, locked onto Hermes, who, for the first time, did not flinch.

 

Hermes stood tall, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles, but he did not falter. His hands were still shaking, his breath still coming in uneven bursts, but he did not look away. He did not drop his gaze.

 

Zeus’s expression twisted with something sharp and jagged, his eyes flaring with light. “You think you’re strong?” he sneered, his voice cracking like thunder. “You think you’ve won?” His fists clenched tighter, the arcs of lightning flaring brighter, splintering off his hands with raw, unchecked power. “You are nothing without me! I made you!” His voice cracked through the air like a whip, splintering across the field. “You think you can defy me? You think you can stand there and–”

 

“You heard him.”

 

The voice was smooth, soft, but it cut through the air like a blade. Zeus’s eyes snapped to the side, blazing with light, but Hades did not flinch. He took a step forward, his shadows swirling like living things, curling over the grass in thick tendrils of darkness. His gaze was sharp, his expression smooth and unyielding. “I think it’s time you left.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with raw light, his fists crackling with energy. “You think you can command me?” he spat, his voice rolling like thunder. “You think you can tell me what to do?”

 

Hades' gaze did not waver. His shadows coiled tighter, spreading across the ground like living ink, whispering over the grass, curling protectively around Hermes, Apollo, and Athena. His expression remained calm, almost bored. “I’m not asking.”

 

The air crackled with tension, the sky splitting with jagged arcs of lightning, but Hades did not blink. His shadows curled tighter, stretching out like wings of darkness, shadowed tendrils whispering across the field. His gaze locked with Zeus’s, unyielding and absolute. “I told you before. You’ve lost.” He took another step forward, his hands still clasped behind his back, his shadows pooling around his feet. “And now I’m telling you: Go. Home.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking with power. The clouds above crackled and groaned, the sky splitting with jagged arcs of lightning. His hands flexed, sparks snapping off his fingertips, and for a moment, just a heartbeat,it seemed like he might strike. His gaze flickered to Hermes, who stood tall, wings trembling but unyielding, his hands fisted at his sides. His eyes locked onto Apollo, whose hands flared with sunlight, steady and grounded. Then to Athena, whose shield blazed with divine light, her eyes sharp and burning with defiance.

 

Hades did not blink. His gaze remained locked on Zeus, his shadows curling protectively around the trio. “Go. Home,” he repeated, his voice a whisper of finality. “Before you embarrass yourself further.”

 

Zeus’s eyes flared with light, his fists sparking, but he did not move. He did not step forward. His gaze snapped back to Hermes, his expression twisted with something jagged and sharp. But Hermes did not flinch. His wings shivered at his ankles, but his gaze did not waver. He did not look away.

 

Zeus’s fists crackled, arcs of lightning snapping between his fingers, but the light faltered. His eyes blazed, but his fists slowly unclenched, the sparks flickering and dying at his fingertips. The storm above crackled and hissed, lightning streaking through the clouds like jagged scars, but his hands fell to his sides.

 

Hades tilted his head, his shadows rippling across the grass. “That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his voice smooth and unyielding. His gaze flickered to Hermes, and there was something like pride flickering behind the dark fire of his eyes.

 

Zeus did not speak. His fists remained at his sides, the sparks flickering and dying. His eyes blazed with fury, his gaze locked on Hermes, but he did not step forward. He did not move.

 

Hades' shadows curled tighter, whispering over the grass. “Run along, Brother,” he said, his voice smooth and edged with something lethal. “And maybe next time…you’ll know better than to cross me.”

 

Zeus’s eyes blazed with light, his fists sparking once more. He took a step back, his gaze sweeping over the trio, Athena’s shield still held high, light shimmering off its surface; Apollo’s hands steady and glowing with sunlight as he hovered protectively beside Hermes; and Hermes himself, wings fluttering, eyes shining with something fierce and unyielding.

 

Zeus’s lip curled, his eyes sparking with raw, unbridled malice. “You think this changes anything?” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “You think one brave moment erases everything you are?” His gaze snapped to Hermes, eyes burning with light. “You will always be nothing. A discarded messenger. A failed god.”

 

Hermes' wings trembled, but he did not flinch. His hands shook at his sides, but his gaze did not waver. He met Zeus’s eyes, the fear still quivering in his bones, but he did not look away.

 

Zeus’s fists sparked brighter, light flaring off his knuckles. “And you,” he spat, his gaze flickering to Apollo and Athena. “Enjoy your rebellion. It won’t last.” His fists flexed, and arcs of lightning splintered off his fingers, hissing through the air. “When you come crawling back to Olympus, don’t expect mercy.”

 

Athena’s shield flared with divine light, her eyes blazing with defiance. Apollo’s hands sparked brighter, sunlight flaring at his fingertips, but neither spoke. Neither moved.

 

Zeus sneered, his gaze sharp and cutting. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, his voice rolling like thunder. “Not by a long shot.” His eyes flared with light one last time, the arcs of electricity snapping off his hands in jagged streaks. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

And with that, he turned, light flaring off his shoulders, and disappeared into the crackling light of the storm. The air snapped and hissed with residual energy, the ground still smoldering where his feet had been. But the field was silent.

 

Hermes stood frozen, his wings still fluttering softly, his breath coming out in thin, shallow bursts. His eyes were wide, locked on the place where Zeus had stood, his hands still clenched at his sides. His knees wobbled, his breath hitching in his chest, and then?

 

He collapsed.

 

His knees hit the scorched earth with a soft, dull thud, and the breath he’d been holding slipped out of him in a shuddering gasp. His wings shivered violently, his hands flying to his face, and before Apollo or Athena could even reach him, he was sobbing.

 

It came out in ragged, broken gasps, his shoulders shaking, his hands clutching his face as if trying to hide. His wings curled around his legs, trembling with each broken sob that tore from his throat. “I…I did it,” he choked out, his voice cracking and splintering. His hands fisted in the grass, clutching the earth like it might disappear. “I did it…”

 

Apollo was there in an instant, his hands reaching out, pulling Hermes into his arms, cradling him close. “You did,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands were gentle, grounding, smoothing over Hermes' wings, pulling him closer. “You did, Strling. You did.”

 

Hermes shuddered in his hold, his wings trembling violently against Apollo’s hands. “I—I stood up to him,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Apollo’s shoulder. “I stood up to him…” His breath hitched, and his hands curled into Apollo’s tunic, clinging desperately. “I-I’m still scared,” he whispered, the words cracking and raw. “I’m still so scared.”

 

Apollo’s hands moved over his back, soothing and steady. “I know,” he murmured, his voice soft and unyielding. “But you did it anyway.” He held Hermes tighter, his hands smoothing over the trembling feathers at his ankles. “You did it.”

 

Athena knelt beside them, her shield still in her grip, but her eyes were soft, glimmering with something raw and unspoken. “You were brave,” she whispered, her voice dropping to something gentle and reverent. Her hand reached out, brushing softly over Hermes' head wings, grounding and tender. “You were so brave, Hermes.”

 

The storm crackled above, but it felt distant now, the crack of thunder like a whisper in the clouds. The shadows curled protectively around them, Hades standing tall and resolute, his expression calm and unyielding.

 

Hermes stayed curled in Apollo’s arms, his wings trembling but still. His breath came out in broken gasps, but his grip did not falter. He held on, wings fluttering, breath hitching, but he did not let go.

 

And Apollo held him. Athena held him. And the shadows kept them safe.

Notes:

Okay. Sorry I haven’t posted lately, my birthday was yesterday and I spent the weekend packing and preparing for my drive home to visit with my family.

Also, I don’t know if this will have a weird format (more spacing between the lines or something) but I’m posting from my phone instead of my computer like I usually do.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Go eat food, drink water, take your meds if you haven’t.

Love y’all! <3
Kari

Chapter 56

Summary:

The aftermath of Zeus's confrontation. Hermes gets to not be brave for a moment and rest in the arms of his Starlight.

The storm still rumbled above, faint flashes of lightning streaking across the darkened clouds, but its fury had waned. The tension in the air lingered, crackling faintly as if the very atmosphere held its breath, waiting for the next strike. But it didn’t come.

Apollo’s arms remained firm around Hermes, holding him close, grounding him. Hermes' wings still fluttered weakly, trembling at his ankles, his breath coming out in ragged, uneven bursts. His hands fisted tightly in Apollo’s tunic, gripping with desperate strength. His eyes were squeezed shut, the tremors still running through his body, but he clung to Apollo, chest heaving with shallow gasps.

Athena stepped forward, her shield still held high, her gaze sweeping over the field as if expecting Zeus to reappear at any moment. Her expression was sharp, unyielding, but her eyes flickered with worry every time they landed on Hermes. “We need to move,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the crackle of fading thunder. “We can’t stay here.”

Hades nodded, shadows whispering at his feet, coiling protectively around them. His expression remained calm, but there was an edge to his gaze, a sharpness that spoke of violence barely restrained. “The Underworld is safe,” he murmured, shadows flaring up at his fingertips. “But I suspect he’ll be watching for us now.” His eyes flickered to Athena. “You too.”

Athena’s chin lifted, unyielding. “I’m not afraid.”

Hades' smile was faint, edged with something dark. “I know.” His gaze shifted to Hermes, still trembling in Apollo’s arms, and his eyes softened. “But he is.”

Apollo’s grip tightened, his hands smoothing over Hermes' back, whispering soft reassurances. “We need to get him back,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the shake in his hands. “We need to get him home.”

Athena nodded, her shield still alight with divine glow. “Ithaca,” she said resolutely. “We’ll take him to Tiresias.”

Hermes' breath hitched at the name, his wings fluttering weakly. Apollo’s hands moved gently, brushing over the trembling feathers, grounding him. “We’re going back,” he whispered softly, his voice a tether. “We’re going back to Tiresias. He’s waiting for you.”

Hermes' breath came out in a ragged gasp, his hands clutching tighter. “Starlight…” he whispered, the word cracking at the edges. He didn’t lift his head, didn’t open his eyes, but his wings fluttered just slightly, brushing against Apollo’s arms. “I want to…I need him.”

“We’re going,” Apollo murmured, his voice strong and unyielding. He straightened, his arms tightening around Hermes' small frame as he moved. “I’ve got you, Hermie. I’m not letting go.”

Hermes didn’t fight him. His hands stayed fisted in Apollo’s tunic, his breath coming out in shallow, uneven bursts, but he did not pull away. His wings fluttered weakly, but Apollo held him steady, his grip firm and grounding.

Athena took her place at their side, her shield gleaming with light, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “I’ll cover the front,” she said, her voice like steel. “Just keep moving.”

Hades took up the rear, his shadows swirling like living things, stretching out like wings of darkness. His expression was smooth, unreadable, but his eyes blazed with quiet fury. “He won’t follow,” Hades murmured, his voice low and certain. “Not today.”

Apollo nodded, adjusting his hold on Hermes, his hands steady and unyielding. “We’re going home,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “We’re going back to your Starlight.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings fluttering at his ankles, but he nodded, just barely. His hands stayed fisted in Apollo’s tunic, his breath ragged but steadying. “My Starlight,” he whispered again, the words barely more than a breath.

And with that, they moved.

Athena led the way, her shield gleaming, her gaze sharp and cutting. Apollo followed, his grip on Hermes firm and unyielding, his steps steady and sure. Hades took up the rear, shadows whispering over the grass like living tendrils, curling protectively around them as they moved.

The storm crackled above, whispering with remnants of Zeus’s wrath, but they did not falter. They did not stop.

They were going home.

The path back to the palace wound gently through the hills, the grass still damp from the storm, glistening with remnants of Zeus’s fury. The clouds had begun to thin, though flashes of lightning still streaked far off in the distance, whispering with static energy. Apollo kept Hermes cradled in his arms, his hands steady and unyielding, whispering soft reassurances as they moved. Hermes did not protest. His hands stayed fisted in Apollo’s tunic, his wings trembling at his ankles, and every now and then, a shudder would rack his frame, but Apollo’s grip did not waver.

Athena walked beside them, her shield still held high, her gaze sharp and cutting as she scanned the horizon, searching for any hint of Zeus’s return. Hades took up the rear, his shadows whispering at his feet, curling protectively around their group. His expression remained calm, smooth and unyielding, though his eyes flickered with sharp, unspoken fury.

They crested a hill, the palace coming into view, its stone walls gleaming in the soft light. And there, just outside the main gate, stood Odysseus and Penelope, their eyes wide and shining with worry. Penelope’s hand was clutched tightly to her chest, and Odysseus’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword, as if expecting the worst.

When they saw the group approaching, their expressions shifted from fear to relief, though tension still thrummed through the air. Odysseus stepped forward, his hand still resting on his weapon. “We saw the lightning,” he called out, his voice steady but laced with worry. “Are you all alright?”

Athena stepped forward first, her shield dropping just slightly. “We are,” she replied firmly, her eyes sharp but softened by a glimmer of warmth. “But we need to get Hermes to Tiresias.”

Penelope’s gaze flickered to Hermes, who still clung to Apollo, his head pressed against his brother’s shoulder, his wings trembling with every shallow breath. Her eyes softened, and she stepped forward, but Hades raised a hand gently, stopping her. “I will explain,” he said quietly, his voice smooth and calming. “Go find Tiresias.” He addressed the gods. Apollo nodded and they continued walking.

Odysseus glanced back, his hand finally dropping from his sword. “Explain?”

Hades' smile was faint, though edged with worry. “About what is happening here,” he replied. “And I suspect you have some questions about my dear brother.” His gaze flickered to Penelope. “You too, if you wish.”

Penelope hesitated, her gaze flickering between Hermes and Hades, but she nodded slowly. “You’ll be all right?” she asked, her voice soft as she turned to Athena.

Athena nodded firmly. “We will.”

Penelope stepped back, her gaze lingering on Hermes before she turned to join her husband, Hades stepping smoothly between them, shadows pooling around his feet like living ink. “Walk with me,” he murmured, his voice soft but unyielding. “There are things you should know.”

Athena, Apollo, and Hermes continued forward, the palace doors opening for them with a groan of ancient wood. The halls were cool and shadowed, the air thick with the scent of lavender and cedar. Apollo’s footsteps were soft and careful, his hands steady as he carried Hermes deeper into the palace, his voice still a whisper of reassurance.

They found Tiresias and Telemachus in one of the smaller sitting rooms, light spilling in through tall windows that cast warm patches on the stone floor. Telemachus was perched on the arm of a chair, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, his voice bright and cheerful. Tiresias sat calmly, hands folded in his lap, his expression soft and attentive as he listened to the story.

The moment the door creaked open, Telemachus’s voice faltered, his gaze snapping to the trio that entered. His eyes grew wide, his hands falling still in his lap. “Athena?” he asked, his voice pitched with surprise. “Is everything–”

But Tiresias did not hesitate. The moment the door opened, his head turned sharply in their direction, his expression shifting from calm to alarm in a heartbeat. Their hands clenched in his lap, and their posture straightened, tension rippling through him. “Hermes?”

Apollo did not wait. He crossed the room in three long strides, his grip on Hermes gentle but firm. “He’s here,” he murmured, voice soft and reverent. His hands moved gently, and he settled Hermes into Tiresias’s lap, careful and delicate.

Hermes collapsed into the prophet’s arms with a soft, shuddering breath, his wings curling in tight as if seeking comfort. “Starlight,” he murmured. Tiresias’s arms came up instantly, cradling him close, his hands brushing softly over Hermes' head wings, smoothing over the feathers with delicate care. “I’ve got you,” Tiresias whispered, his voice steady and grounding. “I’m here.”

Hermes shuddered, his hands fisting in Tiresias’s robes, his breath coming out in ragged, uneven bursts. “Starlight…” he whispered, the word breaking apart on his tongue.

“I’m here, Sweet Bird,” Tiresias murmured, his hands moving slowly, brushing gentle paths over his wings, grounding and steady. “I’m right here.”

Athena stepped forward, her shield lowering as she exhaled. “Zeus showed up,” she explained simply, her voice taut with tension. “We stopped him. Hades stopped him.”

Telemachus, who had remained frozen at the arm of the chair, straightened up, his eyes flickering with shock. “Zeus?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “He…he came here? Is my dad okay? Are you okay?” He paused, glancing at Hermes, trembling in Tiresias’s arms. “Is he okay?” The boy whispered.

Athena nodded, her gaze still sharp. “Yes. We’re all okay. Zeus is gone now.”

Telemachus’s eyes flickered to Hermes, who was still curled in Tiresias’s lap, shivering and small. He opened his mouth, then closed it, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Should I…should we give them space?” he asked gently, his voice hesitant.

Athena and Apollo exchanged glances, their expressions conflicted. Neither moved, their eyes locked on their brother, unwilling to step away. Tiresias’s hand continued to smooth gently over Hermes' wings, his expression soft and unyielding. He turned his head toward Telemachus, his voice gentle but firm. “It’s all right, Telemachus. I think it’s best if you head back to your parents for now. Go see your dad. He likely needs to see you, to know you’re safe.”

Telemachus blinked, surprise flickering across his face, but he nodded slowly. “Of course,” he murmured, his voice soft and understanding. He straightened up, his hands clasping together. “If you need anything. Anything at all, you’ll let me know.”

Tiresias smiled, the expression soft and warm. “We will. Thank you.”

Telemachus hesitated for just a moment, his gaze flickering to Hermes, who was still nestled in Tiresias’s arms, crying softly, but he nodded once more and quietly slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

The room fell silent, the sunlight pooling gently on the stone floor, the warmth cutting through the lingering chill of Zeus’s wrath. Tiresias held Hermes close, his hands gentle and grounding, brushing over his wings, his back, whispering soft reassurances. “I’m here, Sweet Bird,” he murmured, his voice steady and unyielding. “You’re home.”

Apollo and Athena stayed close, their gazes locked on their brother, watching, waiting, as Tiresias continued to soothe him. Every sob from the messenger broke their hearts. 

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings, smoothing down the soft feathers at his ankles, grounding him with each pass. Hermes' breath had evened out, though it still trembled on the edges, and his grip on Tiresias’s robes did not lessen. His wings fluttered faintly with every shuddering breath, but Tiresias’s touch remained firm, steady.

The silence stretched long and heavy, Athena and Apollo still hovering close, their eyes sharp and watchful, as if expecting Zeus to crash through the door at any moment. Tiresias, for his part, simply continued the gentle passes over Hermes' wings, his hands smooth and sure. But his expression was tense, his brow creased with worry.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but unyielding. “What exactly happened?” he asked, his tone calm but firm. His hands did not falter in their rhythm, grounding and steady, but his head tilted slightly towards Apollo and Athena. “From the beginning.”

Athena and Apollo exchanged glances, their eyes sharp and wary. But it was Athena who stepped forward first, her shield still resting at her side, her shoulders squared. “Zeus came,” she said simply, her voice clipped with tension. Her hand tightened around her shield, and her gaze flickered back to Hermes, who still shivered against Tiresias. “He came looking for Hermes.”

Tiresias’s hand did not falter, but his grip on Hermes tightened just slightly. “And?”

Athena’s jaw clenched. “He demanded that Hermes show him proper respect.” Her voice was tight, sharp with restrained anger. “He called him ‘exile.’”

Tiresias’s breath came out slow and measured, but his hand continued its soft rhythm over Hermes' wings. “I see.” Their voice remained steady, but there was a tightness in it that had not been there before. “And did Hermes–?”

Apollo stepped forward then, his expression raw and unyielding. “He bowed,” Apollo whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “He…he dropped to his knees. He apologized.” Apollo’s fists clenched at his sides, his fingers white-knuckled. “Like he had to.”

Tiresias’s hand paused for just a heartbeat, his expression softening with something like heartbreak, but he resumed his gentle brushing, his fingers smoothing over the soft feathers. “Of course he did,” he murmured, his voice a breath of sadness. “Of course he did.” They pressed a kiss to Hermes’ head.

Athena stepped forward, her shield flaring with light. “But that wasn’t enough for Zeus,” she continued, her voice sharpening with restrained fury. “He kept talking down to him. Calling him a disgrace. A failed god.” Her jaw clenched, her grip tightening on her shield. “He kept trying to break him.”

Tiresias’s fingers moved gently, smoothing over Hermes' head wings with infinite care. “And did he?” he asked softly, his voice barely a breath.

Apollo’s hands fisted at his sides. “No,” he whispered, his voice fierce and unyielding. “Hades came.”

Tiresias’s head tilted slightly. “Hades?”

Athena nodded firmly, her shield flaring with light. “He stepped in, protected us.” Her gaze flickered to Apollo, softening. “Protected Hermes.”

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings, grounding and steady. “What did he do?”

Apollo stepped forward, his eyes bright and fierce. “He blocked Zeus,” he murmured, his voice edged with something like awe. “Shadows came up from the ground, cutting off Zeus’s lightning. He wouldn’t let him touch us.”

Athena’s expression softened, pride flickering in her gaze. “He said we were under his protection,” she added, her voice softening. “All three of us.”

Tiresias’s grip on Hermes tightened just slightly, his hands moving with infinite care. “He protected you,” he murmured, his voice warm and reverent. “Just like he promised, little bird.”

Hermes shivered, his wings trembling at his ankles, but Tiresias’s touch remained steady, grounding him with each pass. “He did,” Apollo whispered, his voice soft. “He wouldn’t let Zeus touch us.”

Tiresias’s lips curled into the faintest smile, his fingers smoothing over the delicate feathers at Hermes' head. “Good,” he whispered. “Good.”

Athena stepped forward again, her shield still glowing faintly. “And then,” she hesitated, her gaze flickering to Hermes. Her expression softened, pride flickering in her eyes. “Then Hermes stood up.”

Tiresias’s breath stilled, their hands pausing just slightly. “He…stood up?”

Apollo’s gaze softened, his fists unclenching. “He got up from my arms,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “He walked right up to Zeus.”

Tiresias’s hands trembled just slightly, but they resumed their soft rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings. “What did he say?”

Athena stepped forward, her voice softening. “He told him that he always tried to please him. That he ran himself ragged, delivering messages and gifts and letters all over the world, hoping that it would make him proud.” Her voice cracked just slightly, but she pressed on. “He said he never knew why it wasn’t enough. He never knew where he went wrong. But then,”

Apollo’s gaze flickered to Hermes, who still trembled in Tiresias’s arms, but there was pride in his eyes, something bright and unyielding. “He said that Zeus throwing him out, that that wasn’t love.” His voice cracked, but he did not falter. “He said what he has here, in Ithaca, is love. That this is family.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched, his hands faltering for just a moment, but he pulled Hermes closer, his hands smoothing over his wings with infinite care. “He said that?”

Athena nodded, her eyes bright and fierce. “He did.”

Tiresias’s hand cupped Hermes' cheek, his touch gentle and grounding. “You brave, brave soul,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers brushed over Hermes' wings, soothing and steady. “My sweet bird.”

Hermes shuddered in his hold, his wings fluttering softly, but he did not pull away. “Starlight.” He whispered again. His hands stayed fisted in Tiresias’s robes, his breath coming out in soft, broken bursts, but there was something steadier there, something stronger.

Athena stepped forward, her shield flaring with light. “He stood up to him,” she whispered, her voice reverent. “He stood up to Zeus.”

Tiresias’s hands smoothed over Hermes' wings, grounding and steady. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “My sweet bird. You did it.”

Hermes shivered, his wings fluttering weakly, but he leaned into Tiresias’s touch, his breath coming out in soft, uneven bursts. “Starlight…” he whispered, the word a broken breath. “I did it.”

Tiresias’s smile was soft and warm, his hands moving with infinite care. “You did, Sweet Bird,” he murmured. “You did.”

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing soft, grounding paths over Hermes' wings, smoothing down each feather with infinite care. Hermes' breath came out in ragged, uneven bursts, his wings trembling violently, but Tiresias did not falter. His hands moved in steady, deliberate motions, brushing over the delicate down of his head wings and the soft feathers at his ankles, grounding him with each pass.

Athena and Apollo stayed close, their eyes sharp and watchful, never leaving their brother’s trembling form. Apollo’s hand rested on Hermes' shoulder, firm and steady, his grip unyielding, grounding. His fingertips, still faintly glowing with gentle light, pressed gently against Hermes' skin, a soft, consistent warmth that tethered him back to the present. Athena stood at his other side, her shield still strapped to her back, her expression softening as she watched Tiresias’s hands move in slow, measured paths.

Hermes' breath shuddered, his wings fluttering with jagged tremors. His eyes flickered, glassy and unfocused, and his hands fisted tightly in Tiresias’s robes. “I…I did it,” he whispered again, his voice cracking, splintering on the edges. His eyes remained distant, locked on a point far beyond Tiresias’s shoulder, his breath coming in shallow bursts.

Tiresias’s hands remained steady, his voice soft and grounding. “You did,” he whispered gently, his hands moving in slow, deliberate paths over Hermes' wings. “You did, sweet bird. You were so brave.”

Hermes' breath came out softer this time, less jagged, more even. His wings fluttered, but the tremor had faded. His eyes blinked, focusing on Tiresias’s face, then flickering to Apollo and Athena, his breath stuttering out in a soft, relieved gasp. “My Starlight.”

Tiresias’s smile was soft, warm. “Always,” he murmured, his voice a gentle hum of warmth. “Always yours, sweet bird. Yours.”

Hermes' eyes flickered, his breath coming out in softer waves now, more even. His wings gave a delicate flutter, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders, and he sagged just slightly, leaning further into Tiresias’s hold. “I’m…safe,” he murmured, as if testing the word, turning it over on his tongue.

Tiresias’s hands moved gently, brushing down his wings one final time before he pulled Hermes a bit closer, resting his cheek against the crown of his head. “You’re safe,” they echoed, voice steady.

For a long, stretched moment, there was only silence, the soft rhythm of Tiresias’s hands, the warmth of the light spilling through the windows. Hermes' breathing evened out, his wings fluttering but not trembling, and his hands relaxed, slipping from their tight grip on Tiresias’s robes.

Tiresias did not move away, did not pull his hands back from Hermes, but his gaze flickered over his shoulder, where Apollo and Athena still stood, their expressions guarded and tense. Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, but his gaze softened as it landed on the two gods. “And you two?” he asked gently, his voice low and steady. “Are you all right?”

Apollo blinked, his gaze flickering back to Tiresias. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his hands flexing at his sides. He straightened just slightly, but the tension still thrummed through his shoulders, his hands trembling faintly where they hung by his sides. “I,” he hesitated, his gaze flickering back to Hermes for a moment before settling on Tiresias. “I’m trying.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m trying.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and he held out a hand, gentle and inviting. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice smooth and grounding. “You don’t have to carry that alone.”

Apollo hesitated for only a moment, his gaze flickering to Athena, who gave him a soft, encouraging nod. With a shuddering breath, Apollo stepped forward, his hands still shaking just slightly. Tiresias reached out, his hand resting gently on Apollo’s arms, grounding and steady. “You did well,” he murmured, his voice warm and steady. “You were brave.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, his shoulders sagging just slightly under the weight of the words. “I…I tried to be,” he whispered, his voice thin and cracking. His eyes flickered to Hermes, who was still curled up in Tiresias’s lap, his wings fluttering gently. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t protect him.”

Tiresias shook his head, his hand squeezing gently. “You did,” he murmured. “You did.” His voice was soft, sure. “He’s here and safe because of you. You protected him.”

Apollo’s breath shuddered, his hands clenching at his sides, but he nodded slowly, his eyes flickering back to Hermes, who met his gaze with something soft and shining. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly.

Tiresias’s hand gave a final, grounding squeeze, and then their gaze flickered to Athena, who stood just a step back, her shield still strapped to her back, her shoulders squared. Her eyes flickered with sharpness, but there was something fragile there, something raw and unyielding.

Tiresias tilted their head slightly, voice soft. “And you?”

Athena straightened just slightly, her eyes flickering between Hermes and Apollo before settling back on Tiresias. “I’m fine,” she said simply, her voice firm and sure. But there was a tremor there, a crack at the edges that did not go unnoticed.

Tiresias’s gaze softened. “You did well,” he murmured, their voice warm and gentle. “You were strong.”

Athena’s expression flickered, and for just a moment, the tension in her shoulders softened. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a breath of something raw and fragile. Her eyes flickered back to Hermes, and the sharpness in her gaze softened into something bright and unyielding. “I wasn’t going to leave him. I would never.”

Tiresias’s smile was warm and unyielding. “I know,” he murmured. “I know. So does he.”

The silence stretched, warm and heavy, the soft light spilling in through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Tiresias’s hands remained gentle on Hermes' wings, grounding and steady, his expression soft and unyielding. “You’re all here,” he murmured, his voice soft and sure. “And you’re all safe.”

Apollo and Athena both nodded, their eyes flickering with something like relief, their hands unclenching at their sides. Hermes' wings fluttered softly, his breath coming out in slow, even waves, his gaze clear and focused.

“Safe,” Hermes murmured, the word a breath of disbelief. His wings fluttered again, and Tiresias’s hands smoothed over them, grounding and gentle. “We’re safe.”

The silence hung heavy and warm, curling around them like a protective shroud, unyielding and absolute.

The silence settled over them, warm and heavy, the sunlight filtering through the window in soft, golden streams that pooled at their feet. Tiresias’s hands did not stop their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings with infinite care, grounding him, tethering him back to the present. Hermes' breath was steady now, though his hands still clung to Tiresias’s robes, his wings fluttering faintly but no longer trembling. His gaze remained focused, sharp and clear, locked on Tiresias’s face as if the prophet were the only tether keeping him grounded.

Apollo and Athena had not moved far from him, their eyes never leaving their brother’s trembling form. They sat comfortably on the other side of the small rom, their forms remaining stiff, but now, as the silence stretched, Apollo’s shoulders sagged just slightly. The tension that had coiled through his muscles eased, his hands unclenching from the fists they’d been locked in since Zeus’s arrival. His gaze flickered to Athena, his eyes softening, and then, almost instinctively, he leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers.

Athena’s gaze did not waver from Hermes, her eyes sharp and unyielding, but the moment Apollo leaned into her, her arm came up instantly, wrapping tightly around his shoulders. She pulled him closer, her grip firm and grounding, her chin resting gently atop his head. Apollo did not fight it. He leaned further into her, his hands coming up to grip her tunic, knuckles white and trembling.

Tiresias’s head tilted slightly, his gaze still locked on Hermes, but his hands never stopped their steady rhythm. His voice was soft, barely a whisper. “You’re safe, Sweet Bird,” he murmured, his tone warm and grounding. “You’re right here.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his wings fluttering weakly, but he nodded, his eyes flickering back to Tiresias. “I’m…here,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “I’m here.”

Athena’s grip on Apollo did not waver. Her hand moved to the back of his head, smoothing over his curls with infinite care. Her gaze never left Hermes, sharp and unyielding, as if she were expecting Zeus to crash through the walls at any moment. Apollo’s shoulders trembled beneath her hold, his breath coming out in ragged, uneven bursts.

Tiresias’s hands paused for just a moment, his head tilting as if sensing the ripple of tension in the room. His voice was soft, unyielding. “Athena?” he called gently, his tone smooth and grounding. “Are you all right?”

Athena did not answer. Her eyes remained locked on Hermes, her grip on Apollo tightening. Her jaw clenched, her gaze sharp and unyielding, and for a long moment, she did not move. Did not blink. Apollo shifted beneath her hold, his hands still fisted in her tunic, but he looked up at her, his eyes flickering with concern. “Thethe?” he whispered softly, his voice cracking just slightly.

Athena’s gaze flickered, her eyes softening just for a heartbeat, but her hands did not move. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice clipped and firm. “I’m fine.”

Tiresias’s head tilted, his expression softening. “I don’t think you are,” he murmured gently, his voice low and steady.

Athena’s jaw clenched tighter, and her gaze flickered back to Hermes, her eyes sharp and watchful. “I can’t be anything else,” she murmured, her voice cracking just slightly. “I have to be fine.”

Apollo’s grip tightened on her tunic, his head pressing into her shoulder. “You don’t have to be right now,” he whispered, his voice soft and gentle. “Not right now.”

Athena’s breath stuttered, her grip on Apollo faltering just slightly. Her eyes flickered to Tiresias, who watched her with infinite patience, his hands still brushing gently over Hermes' wings. “I was…” she hesitated, her breath catching. “I was so scared.”

The words were a whisper, thin and fragile, as if they might shatter if spoken too loudly. Apollo’s grip tightened on her tunic, his hands trembling just slightly. “I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Me too.”

Athena’s hand came up, cupping the back of Apollo’s head, pulling him closer. Her eyes still did not leave Hermes, sharp and unyielding, but they shimmered with something raw and fragile. “I was terrified,” she whispered, her voice cracking around the edges. “I-I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t.”

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings with infinite care. His expression was soft, warm. “You didn’t,” he murmured, his voice smooth and grounding. “You didn’t lose him.”

Athena’s breath shuddered, her grip on Apollo tightening. “I know,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Hermes. “But I was so afraid.”

Apollo’s hands shifted, coming up to hold her tightly, his head pressing further into her shoulder. “Me too,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “Me too.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, his hands continuing their gentle path over Hermes' wings, grounding and steady. “You’re all here,” he whispered, his voice a balm, smooth and warm. “All of you. And you’re all safe.”

Athena’s eyes flickered back to Tiresias, her gaze softening. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly. “For protecting him. For being there for him when we weren’t.”

Tiresias’s smile was soft and warm. “Always,” he murmured gently. “Always.”

Athena still held Apollo tightly, her arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders, her chin resting gently atop his head. Her gaze had not wavered from Hermes, sharp and unyielding, as if expecting Zeus to appear again at any moment. But her hands moved with infinite care, smoothing over Apollo’s curls, grounding him, tethering him to the safety of the room.

Apollo leaned into her touch, his hands still fisted in her tunic, his shoulders sagging under the weight of it all. His breath came out in soft, shuddering gasps, but Athena did not let go. Her grip remained steady, unyielding, her hand brushing over his hair with soft, rhythmic movements. “I’ve got you, Pollo,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m right here.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, his hands flexing in her tunic, but he did not pull away. His head rested against her shoulder, and for a long, stretched moment, neither of them moved. The silence curled around them, warm and heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of Tiresias’s voice and the gentle rustle of Hermes' wings.

Notes:

I was reading through some of the first few chapters of this story recently, and, as I was editing this chapter to publish it, I realized just how much my writing has improved. Crazy.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!! Go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 57

Summary:

Angsty fluff. There's really no other way to describe this I think.

Notes:

I'm gonna be posting a few chapters today just so you all know. I likely won't be posting much this week aside from today for two reasons. First, it's my last week of my summer class and I've got an exam to study for and a paper to finish. Additionally, I move out of my apartment at the end of the week so when I'm not working on my class, I've gotta be packing for my move out. Hope you all understand and enjoy the following chapters!!

A soft knock came at the door. It was almost hesitant, barely more than a tap, but it broke the silence, stirring them from their quiet reverie. Athena’s gaze snapped up immediately, her hand stilling in Apollo’s hair. Apollo stiffened, his breath catching, but Athena’s grip did not falter.

“Come in,” Tiresias called softly, his voice gentle but steady.

The door creaked open, and Telemachus stood in the doorway, his expression cautious, eyes wide as he took in the room. His gaze lingered on Hermes, still cradled in Tiresias’s arms, then flickered to Athena, who had not yet moved. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Athena surged forward, pulling him into her arms with a strength that nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

Telemachus yelped, stumbling a step forward as Athena’s grip encircled him. His eyes went wide, and his hands shot up instinctively, hovering in the air as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “Oh!” he blurted, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “I, um, Lady Athena?”

Athena did not let go. Her arms stayed firm, unyielding, pulling him flush against her chest. Her chin dropped to rest on his head, her hand moving to smooth over his hair with the same infinite care she’d used on Apollo. “You’re safe,” she murmured, her voice cracking just slightly. “You’re safe.”

Telemachus’s eyes darted around the room, wide and confused. His hands hovered in the air for another heartbeat before they finally settled, one hand gently patting her back in a hesitant, awkward gesture. “I am,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m safe.”

From across the room, Hermes stirred in Tiresias’s hold, his wings fluttering softly. His gaze was soft and clear, fixed on Telemachus and Athena with a gentle smile. “Just let her hold you, Little Trickster,” he called, his voice tender but sure. “She needs it now more than ever. Just to know you’re safe.”

Telemachus blinked, his eyes flickering back to Athena’s face. His hands finally settled properly, curling around her shoulders, his expression softening. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice gentler this time. “Alright.”

Athena’s grip did not falter, her hands brushing over his hair with infinite care, as if reassuring herself that he was solid and whole. Apollo reached over, his hand brushing over Telemachus’s back, grounding him, steadying him. For a long moment, the three of them just sat there, a tangled knot of limbs and warmth, something fragile and beautiful.

From where he sat cradled in Tiresias’s lap, Hermes' wings fluttered, and he chuckled softly, the sound light and airy. “Trust me,” he said, his eyes glittering with familiar mischief, “if Ty wasn’t so protective of me, she would have pulled me out of their arms ages ago.”

Athena scoffed, though she did not pull back from Telemachus, her hands still brushing over his hair. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she murmured, but her voice was softer, lighter. Her gaze flickered to Hermes, warm and unyielding. “You’re not getting out of my sight anytime soon.”

Apollo snorted softly, his grip on Telemachus’s shoulder tightening in a warm, gentle squeeze. “I don’t think you have a choice, Herms,” he teased, his voice softer now, threaded with something tender. “I think you’re stuck with us.”

Hermes' wings fluttered again, the tips brushing against Tiresias’s hands. His gaze softened, his breath coming out in a soft, steady exhale. “I think I can live with that,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but his eyes were bright with joy.

Tiresias’s hands smoothed over his wings, grounding and steady, and he pressed a gentle kiss to Hermes' temple. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft and grounding. “I’m glad.”

The silence returned, heavy and warm, curling around them in pools of light and shadow, soft and unyielding. Athena’s grip did not lessen on Telemachus, Apollo’s hand remained firm on his shoulder, and Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings with infinite care.

Athena’s arms remained firmly wrapped around Apollo and Telemachus, her grip steady and unyielding. Her eyes darted around the room every few moments, scanning the shadows, flickering back to Hermes as if ensuring that he was still there, still safe, still breathing. Apollo leaned heavily into her hold, his hands still curled into her tunic, his breath even but deep. Telemachus had settled more comfortably against her side, his head resting on her shoulder, his eyes soft but alert.

But Tiresias could feel it, Athena’s tension. It ran like a current beneath her skin, taut and unyielding. Her hand moved in slow, grounding motions over Apollo’s back, and her other arm stayed firmly around Telemachus, but her gaze flickered back to Hermes every few moments, her eyes sharp and unyielding, never fully softening.

It was Telemachus who noticed it first. He shifted slightly in Athena’s hold, his gaze flickering up to her face. “Lady Athena?” he asked softly, his voice tentative. “Are you…are you alright?”

Athena’s eyes snapped to him, her expression softening just slightly, but her grip did not lessen. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly. Her eyes darted back to Hermes, lingering there, tracing over the soft flutter of his wings, the way his breath shuddered but remained steady. Her shoulders did not relax.

Tiresias, still holding Hermes close, tilted his head slightly in her direction. Though his eyes could not see, there was something knowing in his expression, something soft and understanding. He turned back to Hermes, his hands still brushing over his wings, grounding him, keeping him tethered. But he shifted, just slightly, adjusting their position so that Hermes was more angled towards Athena.

Hermes blinked, his gaze flickering up to Tiresias, a question lingering there, but Tiresias only smiled, warm and steady. “It’s alright, sweet bird,” he murmured, his voice a gentle hum. “Just a bit closer. Your sister needs you too.”

Hermes hesitated, his wings fluttering softly, but Tiresias’s hands stayed firm, steadying him. Tiresias carried Hermes over, settling on Athena's side, close enough that she could reach out and hold her brother. Tiresias’s hands never left Hermes' wings, brushing in soft, grounding paths, but he tilted his head just slightly toward Athena. “If it would help,” he murmured gently, his voice soft but clear, “you can reach out. I may have been a bit selfish with Hermes.” They threw the joke out, though it did little to ease the tension in the room.

Athena’s eyes snapped to Tiresias, wide and unguarded for just a moment. “I…” Her gaze flickered back to Hermes, who blinked up at her, his wings giving a delicate flutter. Her hands tightened around Apollo and Telemachus, but she did not move.

Tiresias’s expression softened, his hands continuing their gentle rhythm. “It’s alright,” he said gently. “He’s right here.”

Hermes' gaze flickered up to her, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles. He offered her a small, tentative smile. “I’m okay, Thethe,” he whispered, his voice a breath of softness. “I’m right here.”

Athena’s breath stuttered, her hands shaking just slightly where they clutched Apollo and Telemachus. She swallowed hard, and then, slowly, hesitantly, she reached out. Her hand stretched across the space between them, her fingers trembling just slightly. Hermes did not pull away. He stayed where he was, his wings giving a soft, gentle flutter as her hand settled against his cheek, solid and warm.

Athena’s breath hitched, her fingers brushing softly over his skin, grounding herself in the warmth of it, the solidity of him. Her eyes shimmered with something fragile, something raw and unyielding. “You’re here,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly. “You’re actually here.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes softening. “I’m here,” he whispered back, his voice thin but steady. “I’m here, Thethe.”

Athena’s hand did not leave his cheek. She stayed like that for a long, stretched moment, her fingers brushing softly over his skin, grounding herself in his presence. Apollo’s hand moved to cover hers, his fingers brushing against her knuckles, grounding her further.

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings, keeping him steady, grounded. His voice was soft and warm. “We're all right,” he murmured, his voice a gentle hum. “All of us.”

Athena’s breath shuddered out of her in a long, ragged exhale, her hand still pressed firmly against Hermes' cheek. Her eyes flickered over his face, tracing each familiar curve, lingering on the flutter of his wings, the softness of his expression. “I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she whispered, her voice fierce and unyielding.

Hermes chuckled softly, his wings fluttering at his ankles. “I don’t mind,” he whispered back, his voice soft and sure. “I don’t mind at all.”

The silence stretched, warm and gentle, curling around them like a soft shroud. Athena’s hand stayed firmly pressed against Hermes' cheek, her fingers brushing gently over his skin. Apollo’s hand stayed steady over hers, grounding her, holding her steady. 

It was only when she had traced over every inch of Hermes’ face with her fingertips, brushing softly over his wings as they fluttered delicately at his ankles, that she finally breathed out, her shoulders sagging just slightly. Her hand dropped, though it stayed close, fingers still brushing the edge of his tunic. Apollo’s hand slid back to his own lap, though his eyes never left Hermes, his expression soft and steady.

Athena’s gaze flickered back to Telemachus, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. She reached out gently, brushing her fingers through his hair, her touch featherlight but steady. “You’re safe,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly. “You’re okay.”

Telemachus blinked up at her, his eyes wide, surprised by the tenderness in her voice. “I…yeah,” he replied softly, his voice a whisper of sound. “I’m okay.”

Athena’s breath shuddered out of her in a long, uneven exhale. Her hand stayed tangled in his hair for a moment longer before she finally released him, her gaze flickering back to Hermes, ensuring once again that he was there, that he was real. Her eyes softened, her hand moving once more to brush over his cheek.

But then, her gaze shifted. For the first time, she turned her attention fully to Tiresias, who had been sitting quietly with Hermes cradled in his lap, his hands still moving in gentle, grounding paths over Hermes' wings. Athena’s expression softened, and she hesitated, just for a moment, before her hand reached out, tentative and slow.

Tiresias blinked, clearly caught off guard by the movement, but he did not pull back. He remained still as Athena’s fingers brushed over his forearm, the touch featherlight but deliberate. Her eyes flickered over his face, sharp and searching, and Tiresias’s breath caught, surprise flickering across his expression.

“Athena?” he asked softly, his voice low and gentle. His hands did not falter on Hermes' wings, but his head tilted slightly, his expression one of soft confusion.

Athena did not answer right away. Her hand stayed pressed against his forearm, her eyes darting over his face, lingering just a bit too long, tracing the curve of his brow, the line of his jaw, searching for something, some proof, some confirmation that he, too, was still here. That he was unharmed.

“You’re safe,” she whispered finally, her voice barely above a breath. It cracked on the edges, fraying just slightly, but there was a fierceness in her tone, an insistence that spoke of desperation. “You’re…you’re alright.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, and a small smile curled at the edges of his lips. His hands never stopped moving over Hermes' wings, but he tilted his head slightly towards her, his expression gentle. “I’m alright,” he murmured back, his voice smooth and warm. “I promise.”

Athena’s breath came out in a soft, uneven exhale, her hand lingering just a moment longer before she finally pulled back, her shoulders sagging with the weight of it all. Her eyes flickered back to Hermes, and then to Telemachus, and finally to Apollo, who watched her with gentle, patient eyes.

Athena’s arms tightened around her two brothers, pulling them closer, and this time, the tension in her shoulders finally, finally began to ease. Her eyes flickered around the room, tracing each face, lingering on each of them as if to memorize the moment, to ground herself in the knowledge that they were all still here, all still breathing, all still safe.

Her breath came out in a long, shuddering sigh, and she slumped just slightly, her grip still firm but less desperate. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking just slightly. “Okay.”

Tiresias’s hands continued their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings with infinite care. His voice was soft, warm. “We’re all here,” he murmured, his tone smooth and grounding. “We’re all safe.”

Athena’s eyes flickered back to him, and for the first time, there was no sharpness in her gaze, only warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice cracking around the edges. “For…for everything.”

Tiresias’s smile was soft and unyielding. “Always,” he replied gently. “Always.”

The silence was heavy, warm, stretching long and gentle as the sunlight filtered in through the window, spilling golden light across the stone floor. The only sounds were the soft rustle of feathers and the slow, steady rhythm of breathing, deep and even.

But the gods were growing weary.

Hermes' wings fluttered, slower now, the edges of his eyelids growing heavy. His gaze flickered, unfocused for just a moment, and his head dipped slightly against Tiresias’s chest. He blinked, fighting the pull of sleep, his hands flexing weakly in the fabric of Tiresias’s robes. His wings fluttered once more, a weak, sleepy motion, and Tiresias’s hands smoothed over them, grounding him.

“It’s alright, sweet bird,” Tiresias murmured gently, his voice a soft hum, soothing and warm. “You can rest. I’m right here.”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his eyes fluttering half-closed. “But if I sleep,” he murmured, his voice thin and fragile. “What if…what if something happens?” His wings gave a faint, unsteady tremor, and his fingers curled a bit tighter in Tiresias’s robes.

Tiresias’s hands did not falter. His touch remained steady, smoothing over Hermes' wings with infinite care. “Nothing’s going to happen,” he whispered, his voice low and grounding. “I’m right here. Apollo and Athena are right here. You’re safe.”

Hermes' eyes flickered, his breath coming out in soft, uneven waves. “I’m…safe?”

“You’re safe,” Tiresias repeated firmly, his hands gentle and sure. “I promise.”

Hermes' gaze flickered over to his siblings, his wings fluttering one last time before he finally slumped fully against Tiresias, his eyes drifting closed. His breath came out in a soft, shuddering exhale, his wings settling against his ankles with a gentle, sleepy flutter.

Across the room, Athena and Apollo watched him, their expressions softening, but neither moved. Athena’s hand did not leave Apollo’s curls, and Apollo’s hand remained firm on her arm, grounding himself in her touch.

Athena’s gaze flickered to Tiresias. “What if…what if something happens?” she whispered, her voice a thin thread of sound. Her hands flexed where they rested around Apollo and Telemachus.

Tiresias smiled softly, his hands still brushing over Hermes' wings. “Then I'll be here." When she hesitated, Tiresias pressed a little more. "You can rest too, Athena,” he murmured gently. “I’ll watch over you.”

Athena hesitated, her gaze flickering back to Hermes, her hands flexing once more. Apollo leaned into her side, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before snapping back open, his breath coming out in a soft, uneven exhale. “But,” he started, his voice cracking just slightly. “What if?”

Telemachus, still nestled in her embrace, blinked up at them both, his eyes wide and soft. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently. “I’m here too.”

Athena’s gaze flickered to him, her breath shuddering out of her. “Telemachus.”

He smiled softly, his eyes shimmering with warmth. “I’ll be here,” he promised. “You don’t have to worry.”

Athena’s shoulders sagged just slightly, and Apollo’s grip loosened, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment longer this time. Athena hesitated, then glanced back at Tiresias, who nodded gently. “You’re safe,” he repeated, his voice a warm hum. “All of you.”

Athena finally exhaled, the tension draining from her shoulders. She leaned back, pulling Apollo with her, her hand still smoothing over his curls. His eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming out in slow, even waves. Athena stayed awake for just a moment longer, her gaze flickering back to Hermes, her hand still firm on Telemachus.

And then, she, too, succumbed to the warmth, her eyes slipping closed, her hand still gentle and grounding on Telemachus’s back.

Telemachus blinked, his gaze flickering around the room. He watched them for a long, stretched moment, his eyes soft and tender, before he finally let his own eyes slip closed, his head resting against Athena’s shoulder. His breath evened out, soft and steady.

Tiresias smiled, his hands brushing gently over Hermes' wings one final time before he, too, finally rested back, letting his head tilt gently against the wall. His hand remained firm on Hermes' back, his breath coming out in soft, even waves.

The room was silent, heavy with warmth and stillness. The sunlight filtered in through the window, casting long, golden rays over the stone floor, pooling at their feet.

That was how Penelope and Odysseus found them, all curled together in a knot of limbs and warmth, soft breaths and gentle flutters of wings. Penelope’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes shimmering with something fragile and bright. Odysseus stepped in behind her, his gaze warm and unyielding. He lingered for a long moment, his eyes tracing over the way they were all tangled together, protective and safe.

Penelope turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Should we?”

Odysseus shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving the room. “We don’t dare move any of them,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “If any of them wake up and even one is missing,” He shuddered slightly, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t want to be the cause of that fear.”

Penelope’s hand slipped into his, her eyes shimmering. “Then we let them be.”

Odysseus nodded, his hand squeezing hers. “We let them be.”

Notes:

Poor Athena, she's just a bit on edge, always the protector.

As always, hope you enjoyed!! Go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 58

Summary:

More angst with a side of fluff. (Don't worry, I think we're gonna get back to fluff soon).

Hermes dreamed of lightning.

It tore through the sky in jagged, searing arcs, splitting the clouds with raw, unrestrained power. The ground shook, the air thickened with static, and the scent of ozone burned in his lungs. He was running, running through a field that stretched endlessly, his wings fluttering frantically at his ankles, but he couldn’t lift off. His legs were heavy, dragging through the wildflowers, his breath coming out in sharp, panicked bursts.

And then he saw them, Athena and Apollo, standing just ahead, their backs to him, their silhouettes framed against the roiling sky. Relief flooded through his veins, and he stumbled forward, reaching out. “Thena! Polly!” he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. “Wait!”

They turned, smiles soft and reassuring, but the sky flashed white, and Zeus appeared behind them, towering and immense, lightning crackling in his hands. Hermes screamed, trying to get to them, but his feet would no longer move. His wings fluttered helplessly, pinned to the ground as Zeus raised his hand, electricity sparking off his fingers.

“NO!” Hermes shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late. The lightning arced through the air, splitting into two streams, striking Athena and Apollo at once. They collapsed, their bodies falling like rag dolls, limp and broken, smoke rising from their skin. Hermes hit the ground, hands scraping through the dirt, crawling toward them as his breath stuttered out of him in shallow gasps. “No…no, no, please.”

He reached Apollo first, his brother’s eyes open but glazed, lips parted in a silent, unfinished word. Hermes' hands trembled as he touched Apollo’s hair, his fingers brushing over the singed curls, the warmth fading beneath his touch. “Please,” Hermes whispered, his voice cracking. “Please, wake up, Polly. Come on, w-we’ve got so many more games to play. Please get up. I-I-I promise I won’t try and tackle you anymore. Polly, come on.” He cried desperately.

But there was no response. Only the low, mocking laughter of Zeus, his shadow stretching long over the field, reaching out like a hand ready to crush them all.

Hermes sobbed, clutching at Apollo, his wings trembling violently. He turned to Athena, dragging himself closer, but her armor was charred, the edges melted, and her shield lay cracked beside her. “Thethe!” he whimpered, his hands shaking as he tried to brush the ash from her face. “Come on, we’ve gotta get Polly out of here. He’ll be fine. But come on. I need your help. Please, Thethe. You said you wouldn’t leave. Please.”

Zeus’s voice crackled through the air, smooth and venomous. “This is what you deserve, exile. This is your fault.”

Hermes screamed, the sound raw and breaking, and the world shattered around him.

~~~~

Hermes woke with a jolt, his breath coming in shallow, frantic bursts, his wings tangled in his hair, feathers ruffled and trembling. He quickly wiggled out of Tiresias’s arms, startling the prophet awake, but he didn’t even realize, he only had one thought. *Where are they?*

He was on his feet before he could think, stumbling across the room, hands reaching out, voice cracking. “Pollo? Thethe?”

He crawled over to their sleeping forms, dread flashing through him. “No, no, no, no. Wake up. Come on.” He reached out and shook Apollo. “Polly, please. It can’t have been real. Polly, get up!” He cried.

Apollo stirred, his eyes heavy with sleep, but the instant he saw Hermes' frantic state, he was up, pulling his brother into a hug. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, trying to soothe his frantic brother. “What happened?”

Hermes couldn’t breathe. His hands clawed at Apollo’s tunic, his fingers shaking violently. “Thank the gods. Polly. We…Come on. We’ve gotta save Thena. We-we. Come on.” His voice broke, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Hermes, slow down.” Apollo tried to comfort, but Hermes all but wailed.

“NO! We’ve gotta help.” He pulled himself out of Apollo’s grasp, finding Athena, her form lying still in sleep. He reached out, desperately grabbing her arms.

“Thethe, come on. Polly’s okay. Come on.” He panicked. Apollo tried to pull Hermes back into his arms, but Hermes pushed him off. Eyes wild, he stared at his brother.

“Polly, stop. We gotta help her.” Hermes cried. “Thethe, please.” His voice cracked, and Athena woke.

“Hermes?” She asked quietly, dreary with sleep. Hermes all but flung himself at her, dragging Apollo with him. She let out a soft oomf  of surprise, but her arms wrapped around him anyway, feeling him trembling in her arms.

Athena’s arms stayed firm around Hermes, her hands smoothing over his back, grounding and steady. Her eyes flickered up to Apollo, sharp and questioning, but Apollo only shook his head slightly, his hands coming up to gently hold the back of Hermes' head.

“It’s okay,” Apollo murmured, his voice soft and sure, fingertips brushing through Hermes' tangled curls. “We’re right here, Hermie. We’re right here.”

Hermes' breath came out in jagged bursts, his hands fisted in Athena’s tunic, clutching the fabric so tightly his knuckles blanched white. “I-I thought…” His voice cracked, the words splintering in his throat. “I saw…you weren’t–” He broke off with a sob, his wings trembling at his ankles, feathers brushing against the cool stone floor. “You weren’t moving.”

Athena’s grip tightened, her hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading through the feathers there with infinite care. “I’m right here, little wing,” she whispered, her voice steady and sure. “You’re holding me. I’m not going anywhere.” She pressed her forehead to his, her breath warm against his skin. “I’m right here.”

Apollo’s hands smoothed over Hermes' back, his touch firm and grounding. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a steady hum. “I’m here. Athena's here. You’re safe.”

Hermes shook his head, the movement frantic and desperate. “I-I saw…He–” His voice cracked again, and he buried his face in Athena’s shoulder, his wings trembling violently. “Lightning. He…he hurt you.”

Athena’s breath caught, but her grip did not falter. She pulled Hermes tighter, her hand smoothing down his back in long, steady strokes. “He didn’t,” she whispered firmly, her voice unyielding. “I’m right here. Apollo’s right here. It was just a dream, Herms.” Her hand came up to brush through his curls, grounding him. “Just a dream.”

Hermes' breath came out in soft, broken sobs, his wings trembling at his ankles, but Athena’s touch remained firm, grounding. “It felt real,” he whispered, his voice cracking around the edges. “It felt so real.”

Apollo leaned in closer, his hands smoothing over Hermes' back, brushing gently over the feathers of his wings. “But it wasn’t,” he murmured, his voice a soft hum. “We’re both right here, see?” He pulled back just slightly, enough to catch Hermes' gaze. “Look at us, Hermes.”

Hermes blinked up at him, his eyes glassy and rimmed red, his breath still coming in soft, stuttering gasps. His gaze flickered between Athena and Apollo, as if reassuring himself that they were real, solid. His hands flexed in Athena’s tunic, and she gave him a small, reassuring squeeze.

“We’re right here,” Athena whispered, her hand brushing over his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither is Polly.” Her eyes softened, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead to his once more. “You’re safe, Herms.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings giving a soft, uneven flutter. “I-I’m…safe?”

Apollo smiled gently, his hands still brushing over Hermes' wings, smoothing out the ruffled feathers. “You’re safe,” he echoed softly. “We’re right here with you. No one’s going anywhere.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, his hands unclenching just slightly from Athena’s tunic. He sagged forward, his forehead dropping to Athena’s shoulder, his wings fluttering faintly. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered, the words slipping out unbidden, raw and cracked at the edges. “I thought he…”

Athena’s hand cupped the back of his head, her fingers threading through his curls with infinite care. “You didn’t lose us,” she murmured, her voice firm and unyielding. “And you won’t. Not ever.”

Apollo’s hands did not stop their gentle rhythm, brushing over Hermes' wings, grounding him with every pass. “We’re here,” he whispered, his voice soft and sure. “I promise.”

Hermes' breath evened out, his wings settling against his ankles with a gentle flutter. His hands flexed once more in Athena’s tunic, but the tremor had lessened. His eyes blinked, glassy but clear, and he glanced up at his siblings, his breath coming out in soft, shaky bursts. “You’re really here,” he whispered, the words barely more than a breath.

Athena smiled, her hand brushing back a stray curl from his face. “I’m here,” she promised, her voice steady and sure. “We’re both here.”

Apollo leaned forward, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to Hermes' temple. “Always,” he murmured gently. “Always.”

Hermes shuddered, reaching out and grabbing Apollo’s tunic, his wings trembling. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry, Thethe, Polly…I-I couldn’t, I couldn’t get to you.”

Apollo’s hands moved gently over his back, brushing in slow, steady motions. “We’re right here,” he soothed, his voice soft and unyielding. “You didn’t lose us. We’re right here, Little Wing.”

Hermes let out a soft, shuddering breath, his wings fluttering faintly. He closed his eyes, sagging fully into their hold, finally relaxing in Athena’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words a breath of sound. “I-I didn’t mean to–”

“None of that,” Athena interrupted gently, her hand brushing over his cheek. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not for this.”

Apollo squeezed his shoulder gently, his voice soft and unyielding. “We’re right where we want to be, Hermes,” he murmured, his hands still smoothing over Hermes' wings. “Right here with you.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him in a soft, broken exhale, but his grip did not falter. He held on, wings fluttering, breath hitching, but he did not let go.

And neither did they. Athena’s arms stayed firmly around Hermes, her grip steady and grounding, as his breath came out in stuttering, uneven bursts. His wings trembled against his ankles, the feathers ruffled and uneven, some bent at odd angles from his restless tossing. His head wings were tangled in his curls, feathers sticking out in awkward directions, and his hands were fisted tightly in the fabric of Athena’s tunic, clutching with desperate strength.

Apollo’s hand brushed gently over Hermes' back, his touch warm and grounding. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, his voice a soothing hum. “You’re safe, Little Wing. I’m right here. Thena’s right here.”

Hermes sniffled, his breath shuddering out of him, but he did not pull away. His wings fluttered weakly, the feathers still ruffled and disheveled, and his head wings twitched uncomfortably against his hair, still tangled and knotted. Apollo’s eyes flickered to Athena, his expression softening with understanding.

Athena nodded gently, her hand moving slowly up to brush through Hermes' curls, careful and deliberate. “Let’s get you sorted out, little wing,” she whispered, her voice soft and tender. “We can’t have you looking like you’ve been tussling with a storm. You’ve gotten your pretty wings all tangled up, Hermie.” Her voice was a low, gentle hum, threading through the stillness of the room.

A weak, broken chuckle slipped out of Hermes, and it was enough. Apollo’s hands moved carefully, brushing his fingers gently over the feathers at Hermes' ankles, smoothing them down with infinite care. The delicate feathers shivered under his touch, the trembling gradually settling as Apollo worked with methodical precision.

Athena’s hands continued their careful path through his curls, fingertips brushing against the wings at his head, untangling the strands gently, working the knots out with the precision of someone who had done this countless times before. Her eyes remained sharp and focused, her hands never faltering as she smoothed out each feather, whispering soft reassurances as she worked. “There we go, Herms. You’re alright.”

Hermes' breath came out softer, more even. His wings fluttered less violently, his shoulders relaxing by inches as Apollo continued his gentle brushing. His fingertips moved with care, tracing over each feather, smoothing them back into place, working out the small kinks and rough edges with a tenderness that spoke of practice and familiarity.

“You know,” Apollo murmured softly, his voice a gentle hum, “you’ve always been bad at keeping these feathers neat. I can’t remember how many times I had to chase you down to fix them after you came back from one of your adventures.” His hands continued their slow, steady work, brushing over each feather, smoothing it back into place.

Hermes sniffled, a watery chuckle escaping him. “I was busy,” he whispered, his voice cracking but lighter. “You…you were always fussing.”

Apollo grinned, his hands still working carefully over the feathers. “I wouldn’t have had to fuss if you didn’t run around like a madman all the time. It was like trying to catch a hurricane.”

Athena chuckled softly, her fingers still untangling the knots in Hermes' curls, brushing softly over his head wings. “I remember that,” she murmured, her voice a warm hum. “Sometimes it took Ares or I to have to hold you down so he could finish preening you properly.”

Hermes let out a soft, shaky laugh, his breath coming out in softer waves, more even and steady. “I’m…still here,” he whispered, his voice fragile but firm. “I’m still here.”

Athena’s hands paused just for a moment, her eyes softening, and she leaned forward, pressing a soft, grounding kiss to the crown of his head. “Yes, you are,” she murmured, her voice cracking just slightly. “And we’re not letting you go.”

Apollo’s hands slowed, his fingertips brushing over the last of the disheveled feathers, smoothing them back into place. His gaze flickered to Athena, his eyes shining with something raw and unyielding. “Better?” he asked softly, his hands still gentle on Hermes' ankles.

Hermes sniffled again, nodding slowly. “Better,” he whispered, his voice a breath of sound. His wings gave a soft flutter, no longer jagged or ruffled, and he sagged back into Athena’s arms, the tension bleeding from his shoulders.

Athena’s hands smoothed over his head wings one final time, her touch soft and grounding. “There we go,” she whispered, her voice soft and reverent. “Good as new.”

Hermes' eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming out in slow, even waves, and for the first time since he woke, his hands relaxed, his fingers slipping from the desperate grip they had held. His wings fluttered softly at his ankles, settled and even, the feathers smooth and neatly preened.

Apollo’s hands rested gently on his shoulders, steady and grounding. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a gentle hum. “We’ve got you.”

Athena pressed her cheek to the crown of his head, her hands still smoothing over his curls, whispering soft reassurances. “You’re safe, little wing,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. “We’re right here.”

Slowly, Hermes' breath evened out, his wings settling against his ankles, and his body went slack in their hold, surrendering to the warmth and safety of their embrace.

Athena’s eyes flickered to Apollo, her expression dark. “He’s going to pay,” She said, voice soft yet deadly. Apollo’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, mirroring the expression.

“That he is, Thena, that he is.” Apollo’s eyes softened then, glancing down at Hermes, sleeping in Athena’s arms. “Gods, I remember his nightmares growing up; he was always so worried, but I’ve never seen him this scared.” He said. Athena nodded.

“He thought we were dead.” She murmured.

“You should have seen the desperation in his eyes when he pulled away from me to make sure you were okay. He was terrified.” Apollo paused. “Actually, maybe it’s for the best you didn’t see it. If you did, I’d bet 10 drachma you’d be on Olympus right now, holding a spear to our father’s head.” Athena’s eyes darkened once again.

“I’m tempted to go do that anyway.” Apollo reached a hand out, stopping her before she could even think about moving.

“Not the time, Thena. Not now.” Apollo glanced down at Hermes once again. “He needs you more.” 

Athena’s gaze remained locked on Hermes, her hand still gently brushing through his curls. Her eyes were sharp, unyielding, but there was a tremor in her fingertips, the barest hint of something raw and unspoken. Apollo watched her, his hand still resting on her arm, grounding her.

“Thena,” he murmured softly, his voice gentle but firm. “Not now.”

Athena’s jaw clenched, her gaze flickering back to Apollo’s steady, unyielding expression. She took a breath, shaky and uneven, but she did not argue. Her hand drifted down, brushing softly over Hermes' wings, smoothing down the ruffled feathers with infinite care. Her touch was delicate, as soft as can be, her fingertips tracing the downy edges. Hermes stirred in his sleep, his breath shuddering out of him in a soft exhale, but he did not wake.

Athena’s breath evened out, her shoulders losing some of their tension as she worked. It was almost ritualistic, the way she moved, her hands smoothing over each feather, her expression softening with each pass. Her eyes flickered to Apollo, and she gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod. He returned it, his hand moving to brush over Hermes' hair, fingers smoothing through the tangled curls, settling him back into comfort.

Without a word, Athena shifted, stretching out beside Hermes, her arm curling protectively around his middle, pulling him closer. Her hand came to rest over his back, fingers spread wide, grounding him with the solid warmth of her palm. Apollo moved to his other side, mirroring her, his hands gentle as he cradled Hermes' head against his shoulder, his breath steady and even.

The three of them lay there, cocooned in warmth and safety, their bodies tangled together in a protective knot. Athena’s hand continued its slow, rhythmic brushing over Hermes' back, her touch steady and grounding. Apollo’s fingers ran through Hermes' curls, untangling the knots and smoothing them back into place, his presence solid and unyielding.

For a long, stretched moment, there was only silence, the soft sounds of breathing, the gentle rustle of feathers. Hermes' wings fluttered faintly at his ankles, but the tremor had stilled, soothed by the constant, grounding presence of his siblings. Athena’s hand smoothed over his back again, and she pressed the barest of kisses to the crown of his head, her eyes slipping closed. “I’ve got you, baby brother,” she murmured, the words barely above a whisper, but firm, resolute. “I’m right here.”

Apollo’s hand stilled for a moment, resting gently on Hermes' head. He leaned in, his breath warm against Hermes' ear. “We’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice soft but steady. “I promise.”

Hermes' breath came out in a long, even sigh, his body going limp between them, fully surrendering to the warmth and safety of their hold. His wings settled against his ankles, feathers smoothed back into place, and his hands unclenched, resting loosely in their embrace.

Athena’s eyes flickered up to meet Apollo’s, and there was a fierceness there, tempered by something raw and unyielding. “We’ll keep him safe,” she whispered, her voice resolute. “No matter what.”

Apollo nodded, his hand moving once more to brush through Hermes' curls, his expression softening. “No matter what,” he echoed, his voice firm and unyielding.

And in the silence that followed, the three of them stayed curled together, tangled in warmth and soft, steady breaths. For once, the threat outside felt distant, nothing more than a whisper against the walls.

~~~~

Hermes woke slowly, the haze of sleep still clinging to him like mist. His wings fluttered faintly at his ankles, the feathers brushing against the blankets with a soft, rhythmic whisper. His breath came out in slow, even waves, his eyes still heavy with the weight of sleep. For a moment, the world was soft and warm, cradled in the gentle embrace of something solid and grounding.

And then he remembered.

His breath hitched, his wings snapping taut, feathers bristling as he jerked upright. His hands fisted in the blankets, his eyes wide and unseeing, searching for something…someone. “Thethe? Polly?” he whispered, his voice cracking, thin and fragile.

But before he could move, there were hands, gentle and warm, pressing him back down, smoothing over his back, curling around his shoulders. “Shh, you’re alright,” Athena murmured, her voice low and soothing. Her hand cupped the back of his head, fingers brushing gently through his curls. “I’m right here, Herms. I’ve got you.”

Apollo’s hand joined hers, firm and grounding, pressing against Hermes' back, rubbing slow, steady circles. “Easy, Little Wing,” he whispered, his voice like sunlight through clouds. “We’re right here. You’re safe.”

Hermes' breath came out in jagged bursts, his wings trembling at his ankles, but he did not resist as they guided him back down. He let himself be pulled into their hold, Athena’s arms firm and unyielding around his shoulders, Apollo’s hand gentle on his back, smoothing over his wings with infinite care. His breath shuddered, but he began to relax, his fingers unclenching, his wings settling against his calves.

“There we go,” Athena whispered, her voice soft and warm. “You’re right here with us, Starling.”

Hermes blinked, his eyes clearing just enough to look up at her, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. “I…I thought…” His voice cracked, and he shook his head, curling further into her embrace. “I thought you weren’t here.”

Athena’s hand brushed through his curls, her fingertips grazing the feathers of his head wings, untangling the strands gently. “We’re not going anywhere,” she murmured, her voice resolute. “You’re right here, and we’re right here with you.”

Apollo’s hand moved in slow, grounding circles, his fingers brushing the edge of Hermes' ankle wings, smoothing out the faint tremors. “You’re safe, Little Wing,” he murmured. “I’m not letting go.”

Hermes' breath evened out, his wings fluttering once, twice, before settling against his legs. He shivered, but the warmth of their hold grounded him, tethered him back to the present. His hands flexed, but he did not pull away.

But then his gaze flickered up, glassy and searching. “Starlight?” he whispered, voice cracking at the edges. “Is he…”

A soft, gentle voice answered from the other side of the room. “I’m here, Sweet Bird.” Tiresias’s voice was warm. “I’m just giving you space with your siblings. I’m right here.”

Hermes let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging back into Apollo’s grip. His eyes fluttered closed, the tension slipping from his frame. “Okay…” he whispered, his voice small but certain. “Okay.”

Athena’s hand brushed through his hair once more, her eyes softening. “See? We’re all here,” she murmured, her voice a lullaby. “You’re not alone.”

Apollo’s hands stilled over Hermes' wings, his touch warm and grounding. “Not even close,” he whispered, his voice a breath of sunlight. “You’re safe.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, but it was softer this time, more even. He sagged fully into their hold, his wings fluttering softly before settling against his calves, no longer trembling.

And from across the room, Telemachus sat cross-legged on a cushion, his wooden sword propped up beside him. His eyes were wide, flickering between the group huddled together on the floor. His hands flexed with energy, but he stayed seated, knees bouncing just slightly, as if he were waiting for the word to move. But his eyes never left them, a soft smile spreading over his face as he watched, waiting patiently, even if his fingers itched to be moving.

He could wait. For now, this was more important.

Hermes stayed nestled between his siblings, his breath evening out as the warmth of their embrace settled deep into his bones. Athena’s hand continued its gentle path through his hair, untangling the strands with infinite care, brushing softly against the feathers at his head. Her other arm remained firmly around his shoulders, her grip grounding and steady.

Apollo’s hands traced gentle circles over Hermes' back. His head rested gently against Hermes', his breath steady and sure.

For a long, stretched moment, there was only the quiet rhythm of breathing, the gentle rustle of feathers, the soft murmurs of comfort. Hermes' eyes fluttered closed, his hands no longer fisting in the fabric of their tunics, his wings fluttering softly before settling against his calves. His breath came out in slow, even waves, his shoulders finally sagging under the weight of exhaustion.

Across the room, Telemachus shifted, his knees bouncing just slightly where he sat. His hands flexed at his sides, eyes flickering to his wooden sword and back again. He bit his lip, gaze flitting back to the trio huddled on the floor. He didn’t want to break the moment, didn’t want to shatter the softness of it, but his fingers itched with energy, his body practically humming with restlessness.

Athena’s gaze flickered up, her eyes sharp and all-knowing, catching the movement. A soft smile curled at her lips, fond and understanding. She gave a small nod, her hand still smoothing through Hermes' curls. “Go on, Little Wolf,” she murmured gently, her voice low and fond. “I know you’re itching to get some training in.”

Telemachus blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I–” He hesitated, glancing at Hermes, whose wings had settled neatly at his ankles, feathers smoothed and even. His hands still rested loosely in Apollo’s grip, his breath coming out soft and even. Telemachus’s expression softened. “I didn’t want to, you know, just leave without saying anything.”

Athena’s smile grew, her hand brushing one last time through Hermes' hair. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and sure. “It means more than you know.” Her gaze flickered over to Tiresias, who had been sitting quietly on the edge of the room, listening with a warm, steady presence. “And you?”

Tiresias tilted his head slightly, expression softening. “I think I’ll go check in with Odysseus and Penelope. They should know that all three gods are safe and sound, and that there’s no need to worry or come looking.” A small smile spread across their face. “I think you all deserve this moment.”

Athena gave a grateful nod, her eyes glimmering with something unspoken. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and sincere.

Tiresias stood gracefully, their hands brushing against the folds of their robes. “I won’t be long,” they murmured, their voice a gentle hum. “I’ll be back soon, Sweet Bird,” they called to Hermes, their voice a thread of warmth.

Hermes, still curled between his siblings, gave the smallest nod, his eyes flickering open just a fraction. “Okay,” he whispered, voice soft and sleepy. “I’ll be here.”

Tiresias’s smile was warm and unyielding. “I know,” they replied, voice soft and sure. Without another word, they slipped out of the room, the door closing softly behind them.

Telemachus hesitated just a heartbeat longer, his gaze flickering over the trio one last time. “If…if you need anything,” he said gently, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m just outside.”

Athena’s smile softened, her hand brushing through Hermes' curls once more. “We know, Little Wolf,” she murmured. “We know.”

Telemachus smiled, the expression warm and tender, and with one last nod, he slipped out of the room, the soft patter of his footsteps fading into the hallway.

And then it was just them.

Apollo’s hand smoothed over Hermes' back, his fingers tracing gentle circles. Athena’s arms remained firm around his shoulders, her hand still brushing through his hair with infinite care. For the first time in what felt like days, the world was soft, quiet, unyielding.

Hermes let out a soft, shuddering breath, his wings fluttering faintly before settling once more. His eyes drifted closed, his head leaning against Athena’s shoulder, his body going lax between them. He breathed in the familiar scents of sunlight and olive branches, of hearth fire and soft cedar.

Apollo broke the silence first, his voice a low murmur, trembling just enough to betray the weight of his worry. “I’m scared,” he confessed, voice raw and honest. “Scared of losing you, of losing us.” His hand tightened slightly on Hermes' shoulder. “I don’t know how to keep everyone safe. Sometimes, it feels like no matter what I do, it won’t be enough.”

Athena shifted, her gaze softening as she leaned closer, resting her forehead gently against Hermes' temple. “I’m scared too,” she admitted quietly. “Afraid that I’m not strong enough to protect all of you when the darkness comes. I feel it in my bones, this weight, this pressure to be unbreakable. But I’m not. Not really.”

Hermes' eyelids fluttered open slowly, eyes shimmering with tears and a fragile hope. The vulnerability in their voices reached inside him, tugging at the raw edges of his own fear. His wings twitched weakly as he whispered, “I’m scared that I’m not enough. That I’ll fail you both.”

Apollo tightened his arms around Hermes, pulling him close. “You’re more than enough,” he said fiercely, voice thick with emotion. “We’re family. We carry each other’s burdens. None of us is alone in this.”

Athena’s hand moved from Hermes' hair to cover Apollo’s, her fingers intertwining with his. “Fear is not a weakness,” she whispered, voice steady but soft. “It’s part of what makes us human and divine. We face those fears together. That’s our strength.”

Hermes took a shaky breath, a tentative smile brushing his lips. “Together,” he echoed, voice firmer.

For a long moment, the three of them simply held one another, a tangle of limbs and whispered reassurances. The tension that had gripped their hearts began to ease, replaced by something warm and steady.

Then Apollo shifted slightly, his voice quiet but tinged with vulnerability. “Sometimes I worry about the future, about what’s coming. What we can’t see. What we might lose. But I promise, no matter what, I’ll stand beside you both.”

Athena nodded, her gaze fierce and tender at once. “I’ll fight for us. Protect us. But I’ll also let myself lean on you when I need to. Because strength isn’t just in fighting, it’s in knowing when to be held.”

Hermes squeezed Apollo’s hand gently, then reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Athena’s ear. “And I’ll try to be brave, even when I’m scared. Because with you two, I feel like I can be.”

Apollo smiled softly, brushing his fingers through Hermes' tangled wings. “You already are brave,” he murmured.

Athena’s eyes glistened, her hand returning to smooth over Hermes' feathers. “We all are,” she said, voice rich with warmth.

~~~~

The morning light filtered softly through the tall windows, casting gentle shadows that danced across the quiet room. A faint breeze stirred the curtains, carrying with it the scent of olive trees and distant sea salt. Hermes sat nestled between Athena and Apollo, their arms wrapped firmly around him like a shield, a fortress against the fears that still clung stubbornly to his heart.

Apollo’s fingers moved slowly, brushing through Hermes' tangled curls with practiced care. His voice was low and steady, a soothing presence in the calm. “We have to leave soon, Little Wing. Duty calls.”

Hermes swallowed hard, the knot in his chest tightening. His wings fluttered weakly at his ankles, the soft feathers trembling as if mirroring the racing of his heart. “You can’t leave,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with unspoken dread. “What about Zeus? What if he…”

His words faltered, the nightmare still fresh in his mind, lightning tearing through the sky, the crashing power of Zeus’s wrath. The fear in his eyes reflected the storm he wished he could outrun.

Athena’s gaze sharpened, her fingers tightening slightly on his shoulder with firm reassurance. “We’ll be careful,” she promised, her voice both a vow and a shield. “But Hades has made it clear. Zeus won’t touch us here. Not while we have his attention.”

“But Olympus is his realm,” Hermes countered, eyes flickering with worry. “Hades has no power there. It’s his domain.”

Athena’s lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of both respect and caution in her eyes. “I wouldn’t underestimate Hades,” she said quietly. “He’s smarter and stronger than many realize.”

Apollo nodded in agreement, his hand squeezing Hermes' gently. “He scared Zeus enough for now,” Apollo said softly, “but we can’t stay long. We must be swift and careful.”

Hermes' gaze searched theirs, desperate for certainty. “Promise me,” he breathed, “promise me you’ll be careful.”

“We will,” Athena said firmly, her eyes locking onto his with unyielding strength. “And we’ll return as soon as we can. You’re never alone.”

Apollo’s smile was soft but serious, the kind that carries both love and resolve. “Always, Starling. We’ll always come back to you.”

For a moment, silence settled over them, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and fragile hopes. Outside, the world moved on, but in their embrace, time felt suspended, holding its breath with them.

When Athena and Apollo finally rose to leave, Hermes clung tightly to both of them, his heartbeat loud in his ears, the ache of impending separation raw and unrelenting. “Be safe,” he whispered, his voice cracking but fierce with love.

“We will,” they promised in unison, voices warm and resolute; a balm and a battle cry woven together.

~~~~

The sky over Olympus was unnaturally still, the usual vibrant hum of divine energy muted into an oppressive silence. Apollo and Athena approached the grand marble gates, their steps measured and cautious, the weight of foreboding pressing on their shoulders.

A figure stood nearby, half-hidden in the shadows of a column. Aphrodite, her eyes flickering with hesitation and fear as she caught sight of them. She glanced away quickly, unwilling or perhaps too afraid to meet their gaze. “You're back,” her voice faltered.

The two froze. "Dite?" Apollo asked. Aphrodite glanced around before speaking again.

"He's upset. You should go. Before he finds you both." She said before turning and leaving.

Apollo’s eyes narrowed. “She’s scared,” he muttered, voice low.

Athena’s hand tightened on her spear. “So are we.”

Before either could move forward, a crackling charge filled the air, and the unmistakable, commanding presence of Zeus materialized before them. His eyes burned like storm clouds, and the air rippled with raw power.

“Back so soon,” Zeus’s voice was low, but every word carried the weight of thunder. “You bring your insolence home, and yet you think to defy me?”

Apollo stepped forward, protective and fierce. “We’ve done nothing but keep the balance, Father.”

Zeus’s gaze flickered dangerously at Athena. “You, who dares to protect that exile? You will answer for your disobedience.”

Athena squared her shoulders, refusing to be cowed. “He is my brother. I will protect him, no matter your threats.”

Zeus’s eyes flashed with fury, his voice thunderous. “You will not protect a fallen god! Your defiance poisons Olympus itself.”

Athena’s grip tightened on her spear, her stance shifting into battle-ready. “He is my brother. You cast him out unjustly, and I will stand against you if I must.”

Her words cut through the charged silence like lightning, her glare sharp enough to pierce even Zeus’s storm-cloud gaze. “You think you can challenge the King of Gods?” Zeus spat, stepping forward, electricity crackling at his fingertips. “I am the storm. The ruler. The judge. You will kneel, or be struck down.”

“I’d like to see you try.” She hissed.

Apollo’s eyes flickered between Athena’s fierce resolve and Zeus’s wrath. His voice was firm but calm, a steadying hand on the tempest. “Thena, we promised Hermes we’d come back. He needs you in one piece.”

With that, Apollo stepped forward and took Athena’s arm. “Now’s not the time.”

Athena’s jaw clenched, every muscle taut with the urge to fight. But Apollo’s grip was unwavering, his steady voice a tether.

“Let’s go. We’ll be stronger for him if we survive this.”

Athena hesitated only a moment before allowing Apollo to pull her away, her eyes never leaving Zeus’s towering figure.

Zeus’s fury thundered behind them as Athena and Apollo hurried through the marbled halls of Olympus, their footsteps echoing like distant storms. The god king’s wrath was palpable, crackling in the very air.

“Stop them!” Zeus bellowed, summoning bolts of lightning to strike the ground where they had just fled. The sky darkened with his rage, and the heavens seemed to hold their breath.

Apollo’s gaze hardened. “We can’t let him catch us now.”

With a swift, practiced motion, Apollo wove a corridor of shimmering light, an ancient passage between Olympus and the Underworld. “This way,” he urged, pulling Athena close as they stepped into the shimmering gateway.

The world shifted around them, the air growing cooler, heavier, tinged with shadows and secrets. They emerged into the Underworld’s twilight realm, the air thick with quiet menace and solemn power.

But Zeus was not far behind. His arrival shook the very ground, the air crackling with raw electricity.

Hades appeared before him, tall and imposing, eyes burning with fierce protectiveness. The shadows around him writhed like living creatures, responding to his anger.

“Brother,” Hades' voice was cold and unyielding. “You dare bring your tantrums to my realm?”

Zeus sneered. “This exile festers here, beyond my reach. I will tear down his defenders. He will learn obedience.”

Hades stepped forward, the shadows coiling tighter around him like armor. “Not while I stand.”

With a voice heavy with warning, Hades declared, “You threaten those under my protection, you challenge me.”

Hades turned his gaze to them, voice steady. “You are safe here. As long as I breathe, none shall harm you.”

Zeus’s storm-blue eyes flickered with cunning fury as Hades' back turned for just a moment, his gaze fixed on Apollo and Athena. Lightning crackled in his clenched fist, a jagged spear of raw power aimed at the Underworld king.

But Athena was quicker. With a flash of movement, she stepped forward, raising her shield in a brilliant arc of divine light. The bolt slammed against the gleaming barrier with a deafening crack, sparks flying, the force rippling through Athena’s arms.

“Hades!” she called sharply, eyes blazing as she held the shield steady, refusing to yield.

The Underworld King whipped around, his expression darkening instantly as he sensed the betrayal.

Zeus’s lips curled into a venomous snarl. “I will not be thwarted by shadows and mortals alike.”

Hades' gaze narrowed, the air around him thickening with an oppressive weight. Shadows writhed and surged like a living tide, gathering at his feet and coiling up his arms.

With a sudden, devastating surge of power, Hades raised his hand, and the ground beneath Zeus erupted in shadowy tendrils, wrapping around the god king’s limbs, dragging him forward with unrelenting force.

Before Zeus could react, Hades flung him backward with a violent surge of dark energy. The god king slammed into the cold stone wall of the Underworld with a thunderous crack, the impact echoing through the cavernous space.

Zeus groaned, sliding down the wall, his eyes blazing with fury and disbelief.

Hades stepped forward, towering and unyielding. “This is my domain. You will show respect, or you will be cast down.”

Athena’s shield still glowed faintly, her chest heaving but steady. Apollo stood at her side, his gaze fierce, watching Zeus carefully. Athena took a step towards him, stumbling slightly, and Apollo caught her, steadying her. 

“Leave, brother. You are not welcome in my realm.” Hades said, low and dangerous. To emphasize his point, Cerberus started growling. Zeus huffed and disappeared back to the skies of Olympus.

Notes:

Teehee. They almost got got. Anyone else getting tired of Zeus's bs? i know I am…

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!! Go take care of yourselves, my friends. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 59

Summary:

THE FLUFF IS BACK! JUST LIKE I PROMISED!

Also, this chapter eludes to smut, nothing explicit, but just so you know. Everything stays pretty PG though. Don't worry.

Enjoy!!

The morning light filtered softly through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the quiet room. Hermes sat beside Tiresias, the tension of recent events lingering but beginning to ease in the prophet’s calm presence. His siblings weren’t back, they’d left three days ago. Hermes knew that their duties called and often took time, but he still missed them. He leaned into Tiresias.

Tiresias smiled softly, their voice warm and inviting. “Lady Penelope told me of a place that’s quiet and peaceful. Somewhere just the two of us could go.”

Hermes' eyes lifted, a flicker of hope breaking through the weariness. “Today?”

Tiresias nodded gently. “Yes, little bird. It’s still morning, and the day is ours. No gods, no storms. Just calm.”

Hermes smiled faintly, a lightness returning to his breath. “I’d like that.”

Tiresias extended a steady hand. “Then come with me. Let’s leave all this behind, just for today.”

Hermes took the hand, rising with a small but determined breath. Together, they stepped into the soft morning, ready to find peace beyond the shadows.

The soft morning breeze carried the scent of olive groves and salty sea air as Hermes and Tiresias stepped out into the waking world of Ithaca. The island stirred gently around them; birds chirped in the trees, and sunlight filtered through the canopy in golden beams, dappling the stone path beneath their feet.

Tiresias led the way, Penelope having explained the directions very clearly for them, with steady, deliberate steps, his hand still lightly clasping Hermes'. The path wound through fragrant groves of wild thyme and rosemary, weaving past ancient olive trees whose gnarled trunks held centuries of stories whispered by the wind.

Hermes breathed deeply, the crisp air filling his lungs, a subtle peace settling over the lingering worries in his chest. He glanced sideways at Tiresias, whose calm presence was a steady anchor in the stillness.

“This place…” Hermes murmured, voice soft. “It feels like it holds memories.”

Tiresias nodded, a gentle smile curving their lips. “It does. Penelope said that she often comes here to find solace. The stones, the trees, they remember the past and soothe the soul.”

As they walked, the path opened onto a secluded cove where the sea kissed the shore with tender, rhythmic waves. Smooth, sun-warmed stones formed natural seats, inviting rest. A quiet hush wrapped the place, broken only by the soft lapping of water and the distant call of a lone gull.

Tiresias guided Hermes to the largest stone, worn smooth by time. “Sit,” they said softly. Hermes obeyed, settling down and letting the warmth seep through his wings.

Tiresias knelt beside him, their gaze resting on the shimmering water. “Here, the world feels lighter. Here, you can breathe without fear.”

Hermes closed his eyes, feeling the gentle sea breeze brush his feathers, his heartbeat slowing. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For bringing me here.”

Tiresias reached out, brushing a stray curl from Hermes' forehead, their touch tender and grounding. “Always, little bird. Always.”

The two sat in companionable silence, letting the calm embrace them as the sun climbed higher, the world unfolding gently around them, far from the shadows of gods and storms.

The waves whispered against the shore, a rhythmic lullaby that seemed to coax the tension from Hermes' shoulders. He leaned back on the stone, his wings slowly relaxing, feathers ruffling in the light breeze. Tiresias remained close, their presence unwavering.

Hermes took a slow breath, then another, before finally breaking the silence. “It’s strange,” he murmured. “I feel safe here with you. Safer than I have in…I don’t even know how long.”

Tiresias turned their head, listening intently, a quiet hum of encouragement passing their lips.

“But at the same time,” Hermes continued, his voice wavering just slightly, “I’m still scared. It’s like… like my body can’t decide whether to believe it’s over or keep bracing for the next blow. Even here, where it’s calm and beautiful, I feel like I should be ready to run.”

Tiresias reached out, their hand resting gently on Hermes' shoulder, thumb tracing slow circles just beneath the curve of his wing. “That fear isn’t something you can just let go of, little bird,” they said softly. “It’s lived in you for too long. But it doesn’t mean you aren’t safe now. Sometimes it takes time for your heart to trust what your eyes and your soul already know.”

Hermes swallowed, his throat tight. “When Zeus was there, I thought…I thought it was over. I thought I was going to lose everything all over again. And when Apollo and Athena stood by me, I was terrified that they’d lose everything too. I couldn’t protect them. I couldn’t even stand up for myself.”

Tiresias moved closer, carefully wrapping an arm around Hermes' shoulders. “But you did stand up for yourself,” they reminded him. “And you stood up for your siblings. You didn’t hide. You didn’t back down. You were brave, Hermes.”

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, the words settling heavily in his chest. “I don’t feel brave. I feel… small. And I hate that. I hate that he still has that power over me.”

Tiresias pressed a soft kiss to Hermes' temple. “Bravery isn’t the absence of fear, my songbird. It’s feeling that fear and choosing to move forward anyway. You didn’t let Zeus take away what matters to you. You protected it. You let your heart guide you. That is courage.”

A shaky breath escaped Hermes, and he leaned into Tiresias’s embrace, his cheek resting against their shoulder. “I just want to be free of it. I want to feel safe without having to convince myself that it’s real.”

Tiresias’s hand moved to cup the back of Hermes' neck, a grounding touch that sent warmth through the god’s weary bones. “One day, that safety will come naturally again. Until then, it’s okay to feel both fear and peace. I’ll be here to remind you of what’s real, as long as you need.”

Hermes' wings gave a small, tentative flutter, almost like a bird testing the air. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice fragile but sincere.

Tiresias smiled, leaning down to brush his lips over Hermes' forehead. “Always, little bird. As long as you need.”

The waves continued to sing their soothing song, and for the first time in a long while, Hermes let himself breathe without guilt, holding onto the calm, even if fear still lingered at the edges.

A soft breeze swept through the olive trees, scattering petals from wild blossoms that danced around them, settling in Hermes' hair and wings. Tiresias reached out, brushing a stray petal from his curls, his fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Hermes glanced up, the touch gentle and familiar, sending a flutter through his chest.

Tiresias’s hand remained at his cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across his cheekbone. Hermes leaned into the touch, eyes half-lidded and steady on Tiresias’s face. The prophet’s expression was soft, patient, and utterly unwavering. It was Tiresias who spoke first, voice barely above a whisper. “May I?”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings giving the faintest tremor before he nodded. “Yes.”

Tiresias moved closer, the world falling into a gentle hush around them. His hand remained cupping Hermes' cheek as he leaned in, their foreheads brushing for a moment, breath mingling. And then, with all the gentleness of the sea touching the shore, Tiresias closed the distance.

Their lips met softly, a whisper of warmth and connection. Hermes' eyes fluttered shut, and he sank into the kiss, his hands finding Tiresias’s shoulders, holding on like he might drift away if he didn’t anchor himself there. The kiss was slow, tender, and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world to simply exist in this fragile, beautiful moment.

When they finally parted, Hermes remained close, his forehead resting against Tiresias’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. Tiresias’s thumb swept across Hermes' cheek one last time, and he smiled, soft and sure. “Right here,” he murmured again, voice steady and sure. “With me.”

Hermes nodded, his smile small but unshaken. “With you.”

But Hermes didn’t pull back, his hands remained on Tiresias’s shoulders, and slowly, with a tentative boldness, he leaned back in. This time, there was more certainty, less fear and more longing. His wings fluttered in soft, steady beats, the feathered tips brushing lightly against the air as his lips pressed against Tiresias’s with gentle insistence.

Tiresias responded with a soft hum, his hands slipping from Hermes' cheek to rest against his waist, pulling him closer with gentle but unyielding pressure. “Bold, aren’t we?” Tiresias whispered against his lips, voice laced with amusement and affection.

Hermes barely had time to react before Tiresias’s hands shifted, fingertips grazing the small wings at Hermes' ankles. Hermes froze, the touch feather-light, but still so present. His breath caught, lips hovering just above Tiresias's pulse point, wings giving an instinctual flutter that sent a whisper of wind through the trees.

“T-Tiresias...” Hermes stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with anticipation.

Tiresias only chuckled, his hands moving with practiced grace, fingers brushing along the delicate feathers, skimming the edges in slow, deliberate strokes. “What’s the matter, little bird?” Tiresias teased, voice low and honeyed. “I thought you wanted to be bold?”

Hermes shivered under the touch, his wings twitching with every gentle caress. He pressed his forehead against Tiresias's neck, his breath hot and ragged. “That’s…not fair,” Hermes murmured, but there was no real protest in his voice, only longing, only want.

“All’s fair,” Tiresias whispered, his hands gliding with infuriating gentleness along the tips of Hermes' ankle wings, each stroke sending sparks through the god’s veins. Hermes' grip tightened in Tiresias's hair, a desperate attempt to ground himself. His teeth grazed Tiresias’s neck again, firmer this time, and Tiresias rewarded him with a soft, breathless moan.

“You’re...terrible,” Hermes panted against his throat, though the smile on his lips betrayed him.

Tiresias only hummed in response, his hands shifting upward with unhurried grace. One hand remained at Hermes' ankle wings, fingers trailing with a careful touch, while the other glided upward, settling at the base of Hermes' head wings. The touch was careful, gentle, almost reverent, and Hermes' entire body stiffened.

“T-Tiresias!” Hermes' hands clutched desperately at his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his tunic. His wings fluttered uncontrollably now, a series of soft, unbidden movements that sent shivers up his spine. Tiresias chuckled softly, his fingers trailing delicately over the wings, learning their pattern, their sensitivity. His thumb brushed along the edge, and Hermes practically melted against him.

“My little songbird…” Tiresias whispered, his voice warm and fond, the hand on Hermes' ankle wings continuing its tender ministrations while his other teased the delicate feathers behind Hermes' ears. “You make such lovely sounds.”

~~~~

“There we are,” Tiresias whispered, voice full of reverence and warmth. His hands smoothed over Hermes' wings, brushing the petals that had nestled in the soft appendages during, fingertips brushing with the utmost care. “I’ve got you, I’m right here.” His breath ghosted over Hermes' temple, and they pressed a soft, lingering kiss there, lips brushing with unyielding tenderness. “Are you alright, little bird?”

Hermes gave a soft nod, his breath still steadying. “Yeah…yeah, I’m alright.” His eyes fluttered open, gaze still a bit dazed but clear now, the haze that had clouded him before entirely gone. He looked up at Tiresias, a small, fragile smile spreading across his lips. “I’m okay.”

Tiresias’s smile grew, his hands brushing over Hermes' back one last time before settling at his waist. “Good…” he whispered, voice full of reverence. “Let’s get you back, hmm? I think Penelope might be a little cross if I keep you out here all day.” There was a playful lilt to his voice, but the tenderness beneath it never wavered.

Hermes chuckled, the sound soft and breathless. “Yeah…probably.” His wings fluttered just slightly before he straightened, hands still gripping Tiresias for balance. With a deep breath, he pulled back, just enough to brush the wrinkles from his tunic, before finally looking up with a sheepish smile. “I, uh…I should probably…put my shirt back on.”

Tiresias arched a brow, a smile playing at his lips. “Yes, I imagine you might want to.” He could practically see the mussed hair, the still-slightly ruffled wings, and the scattering of red and purple marks that traced along Hermes’ throat and collarbone. Their smile grew, and he leaned in just slightly, breath warm against Hermes' ear. “Unless you want them all to know how well you did, my sweet songbird.”

Hermes sputtered, his wings fluttering wildly for just a moment, petals and leaves scattering around them. “Starlight!” he gasped, voice cracking just slightly. His hands flew up to brush at his throat, fingertips grazing over the tender marks that Tiresias had left. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. “I–no, I–” He huffed, shaking his head, but the smile that spread across his lips was undeniable. “You’re terrible.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hands settling at Hermes' waist once more. “I’m honest,” he murmured, voice full of warmth. “You look beautiful, I just know it.” His fingers brushed gently along Hermes' sides, eyes crinkling with affection. “But I won’t have you scandalizing poor Telemachus. Let’s get you decent.”

Hermes laughed, a soft and bright sound that carried through the trees. His hands fell back to his sides, and with a soft smile, he glanced around for his shirt, spotting it draped over a low-hanging olive branch nearby. He padded over, wings fluttering just slightly as he reached for the fabric, pulling it from the branch and shaking it out.

But as he lifted the shirt to slip it over his head, he paused, his gaze catching on the scattered bruises and marks that decorated his skin. His cheeks flushed again, deeper this time, and he shot Tiresias a look over his shoulder, a mix of incredulity and exasperation. “I can’t go back like this…” he whispered, voice full of disbelief. He ran his fingers over the marks, dark and vibrant against his skin. “This tunic isn’t going to cover all of this.”

Tiresias only smiled, utterly unrepentant. He stepped forward, his hands settling on Hermes' shoulders, lips brushing over the bruises with a kind of reverence. “I suppose you’re right,” they murmured, his breath ghosting over Hermes' ear. “Maybe a cloak? Or,” His eyes crinkled with mirth. “You could just go as you are. I’m sure Odysseus would be thrilled.”

Hermes sputtered again, his wings fluttering wildly, petals scattering around them, tangled in his hair and wings from their actions. “You’re terrible!” he laughed, shaking his head. He slipped the shirt over his head, tugging it into place and frowning when the fabric did absolutely nothing to hide the marks that decorated his collarbone and the base of his throat. “This is not subtle. Why did you get so bitey, you heathen?”

Tiresias shrugged, a grin sitting on their face. “You kept encouraging me.” Hermes groaned.

“I’m serious, Starlight. I can’t go back looking like this.” He said.

Tiresias hummed, his hands slipping back to Hermes' waist. “No,” he agreed, voice soft and full of warmth. “But you are beautiful.” His hands squeezed gently, his eyes softening with something warm and unyielding. “Take my robe, love.”

Tiresias smiled, his hands slipping from Hermes' shoulders to the clasp of his own robe, fingers working deftly to undo it. The fabric fell away with a practiced grace, pooling in their hands before they held it out, smile never fading.

Hermes blinked, eyes flickering to the fabric in Tiresias's outstretched hands. His gaze softened, wings giving the faintest flutter. “You, you’d just give it to me?”

Tiresias’s smile grew, his hands still outstretched. “I'd give you the world if you asked, my love. Besides, I think you need it more than I do at the moment, little bird. Go on,” Their voice dipped lower, reverent. “Take it.”

Hermes hesitated only for a heartbeat before stepping forward, fingers brushing over Tiresias’s as he took the robe from him. The fabric was warm and soft, smelling faintly of cedar and sage, laced with the subtle notes of the Underworld that Tiresias carried. Hermes slipped it over his shoulders, the weight of it settling with a kind of comfort that sent a warmth blossoming through his chest.

He glanced down, running his fingers along the soft collar and tugging it into place. “Well…at least I’m not going to scandalize Telemachus,” Hermes murmured with a chuckle, brushing his hands down the front of the robe. He paused, however, as his fingertips grazed the marks that decorated his collarbone, neck, and just beneath the edge of the fabric. Purple and red, blossoming like constellations against his skin.

Hermes' cheeks flushed, and his wings gave an unbidden flutter. His gaze flickered back to Tiresias, who stood with their hands now folded calmly in front of them, head tilted just slightly, listening. “Starlight?” Hermes started, his voice edged with disbelief. “I-I thought you were blind. How did you know exactly where to bite?” His eyes roamed back over the marks, shaking his head in disbelief. “Every spot…I didn’t even know. How did you know?”

Tiresias’s smile turned smug, his hands unfolding from his lap as he stepped closer, his touch gentle as their fingers brushed the edge of Hermes' wings. “Do you really think I need to see to know you, little bird?” they murmured, voice full of reverence and something wickedly playful. His fingertips grazed the feathers of Hermes' head wings, brushing with practiced tenderness. “I know you by touch, by sound. I don’t need my eyes to hear the way you gasp when I touch here.” His fingers grazed the base of Hermes' head wing, and Hermes gave a soft shudder. “Or here.” Their hand moved lower, brushing the edge of his throat where a dark bruise lingered. Hermes bit back a gasp, wings fluttering against the movement.

Hermes' cheeks flushed deeper, and he sputtered, hands swatting at Tiresias’s fingers. “You–you’re insufferable,” he declared, his wings fluttering wildly, petals scattering around them.

“Mm…perhaps,” Tiresias murmured, his voice dipping lower, edged with something teasing. “But I’m also very thorough, wouldn’t you agree?” And before Hermes could respond, Tiresias leaned in, his breath ghosting over Hermes' head wing, warm and unyielding.

“Starlight, don’t you–” Hermes began, but it was too late. Tiresias’s mouth descended, lips brushing over the delicate feathers with deliberate reverence before he nipped, his teeth catching the very tip of the wing in one smooth motion.

Hermes squeaked and his wings fluttered wildly, sending a few petals spiraling around them. “Starlight!” he gasped, voice cracking with surprise, his hands flying up to swat at Tiresias’s shoulders. “You’re insatiable!” he declared, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Tiresias only laughed, a rich, unrestrained sound that filled the space between them. Their hands settled back at Hermes' waist, fingers squeezing gently. “Maybe,” they agreed, voice low and full of warmth. “But I don’t hear you complaining.” His breath ghosted over Hermes' ear, voice turning soft and reverent. “You sing so beautifully, little bird. Why would I ever want you to stop?”

Hermes huffed, his wings fluttering indignantly. “I need to get you a muzzle,” he grumbled, shaking his head with a smile that belied his tone. “Otherwise, I’m never going to hear the end of this.”

Tiresias chuckled, his hands still steady at Hermes' waist. Their fingertips brushed over the fabric of their own robe, now draped across Hermes' shoulders, and he smiled, soft and unyielding. “It suits you.”

Hermes blinked, glancing down at the robe again, a small, soft smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Yeah…yeah, it does,” he agreed, voice soft. His gaze flickered back to Tiresias, something warm and unyielding in his eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

Tiresias only nodded, his hands brushing over Hermes' back with practiced tenderness. “Always,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth. “Always, my sweet songbird.”

Notes:

Gods I love them. Too cute. Ugh. Can't believe I'm jealous of my own characters.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!! Go take care of yourselves. Drink some water, eat food, take a nap, and go take your meds if you haven't!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 60

Summary:

Silly fluff and antics. Also, this is definitely one of my favorite chapters that I've written.

Hope you enjoyed!

The path back to the palace was dappled with sunlight, olive branches whispering overhead as the breeze danced through the leaves. Hermes walked beside Tiresias, the prophet’s robe draped over his shoulders, soft and warm, smelling faintly of sage and cedar. It was far too large for him, the sleeves falling past his fingertips and the hem brushing against his calves, tickling the small wings there, but the comfort it offered was immeasurable. His wings fluttered just slightly beneath the fabric, sending a few stray petals drifting to the path behind them.

Tiresias walked with an easy confidence, his hand resting lightly on Hermes' elbow for guidance, though his step was steady. They had reached the familiar path, well-tread by their many strolls, and Hermes found himself stealing glances at the prophet every few moments, lips twitching into a smile each time.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Tiresias commented, his voice full of warmth and playful curiosity. “I didn’t break you too much, did I?”

Hermes sputtered, wings giving an unbidden flutter as his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I–no!” he protested, shaking his head with a laugh. “You’re terrible, you know that?” His hands tugged the robe a little closer, burying his hands in the sleeves. “You’re really, really terrible.”

Tiresias chuckled, the sound rich and unrestrained. “Mm…perhaps,” he conceded, his hand squeezing gently at Hermes' elbow. “But I don’t hear you complaining.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his lips. He let the silence linger for just a moment longer before he spoke again, voice softer this time. “I never knew it could be like that,” he confessed, gaze dropping to the path in front of them. “I didn’t think,” he trailed off, cheeks flushing again as his wings gave a soft, unconscious flutter. “I didn’t think I’d trust anyone like that.”

Tiresias’s hand on his arm stilled for just a moment before resuming its gentle hold. His expression softened, and he leaned just slightly closer. “I’m honored, little bird,” he murmured, voice full of reverence. “More than you could ever know.” His fingers squeezed gently, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You were so beautiful.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed deeper, and he huffed, shaking his head. “Stop it,” he muttered, wings fluttering wildly for a moment. “If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to have to…to…” He faltered, coming up with absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, but I’m going to have to do something!”

Tiresias laughed, their hand slipping down from Hermes' elbow to lace their fingers together. “I’m quaking in my sandals,” they teased, voice warm and unyielding. “You’re so threatening, Hermes. Truly.”

Hermes huffed again, but the smile never wavered. His head wings fluttered just slightly, sending a few stray petals scattering to the path behind them. “I could be threatening if I wanted to be!” he insisted, eyes crinkling with mirth. “I’m perfectly capable of being intimidating.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Tiresias replied smoothly, their smile growing. “But I’m afraid I’m not convinced.”

Hermes sputtered, swatting playfully at Tiresias’s arm. “I’ll show you,” he promised, voice full of playful indignation. “One of these days.”

Tiresias only chuckled, his hand squeezing Hermes' gently. “I’m sure you will, little bird,” he murmured, voice full of warmth. “I’m sure you will.”

The palace came into view just as Hermes was about to retort, its stone walls bathed in warm sunlight, the olive trees surrounding it swaying gently in the breeze. Hermes straightened just slightly, tugging the robe a bit tighter around his shoulders. “I…uh…” He glanced down at the fabric, then back to Tiresias. “I think maybe I should brace myself.”

Tiresias arched a brow, his hand squeezing Hermes' gently. “For what, exactly?”

Hermes flushed, his wings giving a slight flutter. “For Penelope. And Odysseus.” His gaze dropped, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. “They’re…they’re going to know.”

Tiresias chuckled, his grip steady and unyielding. “I think they might have a clue,” he agreed, voice full of mirth. “But I wouldn’t worry, little bird.” His breath ghosted over Hermes' ear, voice lowering to a whisper. “They’ll be happy for you.”

Hermes swallowed, nodding just slightly. “I guess,” he whispered, voice soft. “I guess you’re right.” He straightened his shoulders, giving one last tug to the robe, and forced himself to lift his chin. “Alright, okay, let’s…let’s go in.”

Tiresias nodded, his hand never leaving Hermes' as they crossed the threshold. The cool stone of the entryway brushed against their feet, and the warm, familiar scents of olive oil and thyme filled the space. But there, standing just off to the side, Penelope and Odysseus lingered in the hall, deep in conversation. At the sound of footsteps, they both turned, their eyes immediately falling on Hermes and Tiresias.

Penelope’s brow arched, her eyes flickering between the two of them with the practiced precision of someone who missed nothing. Odysseus’s gaze followed, his eyes sweeping over Hermes' still-ruffled hair, the flush in his cheeks, and, most obviously, the deep red and purple marks that peeked from beneath Tiresias’s robe.

Penelope’s lips curled into the faintest smile, and she stepped forward, hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Well, well…” she began, her voice smooth and edged with mirth. “I see the two of you had quite the morning.”

Odysseus coughed, hiding what was unmistakably a grin, his hand coming up to scratch at his beard. “It certainly seems that way,” he agreed, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Hermes' cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, and his wings fluttered wildly beneath Tiresias’s robe. “I, uh…I–” He fumbled, hands gripping the edge of the robe like it might somehow hide him better. “We were just…we went for a walk…”

Penelope arched a brow, her smile never fading. “Oh, I’m sure you did, my dear,” she replied smoothly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m sure you did.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and his wings fluttered wildly. His fingers fumbled with the edges of the fabric, trying and utterly failing to cover the highest marks blooming across his neck. He cleared his throat, eyes flickering nervously between Penelope and Odysseus, whose smiles were growing by the second.

“Oh, uh,” Hermes started, his voice cracking just slightly. “We were just, uh…just walking. You know, like a…like a morning stroll.” His wings fluttered again, a few more petals fluttering free and settling around his feet, and he tugged the robe tighter around his shoulders, though it did nothing to hide the telltale signs of his earlier adventure.

Penelope's eyes sparkled with mirth, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “A morning stroll, was it?” she asked, her voice smooth and edged with humor. “It must have been quite the stroll, little god. I’ve never seen a walk leave marks like that.” Her gaze flickered pointedly to the side of his neck where a particularly dark bruise peeked just above the edge of the collar.

Hermes sputtered, his wings fluttering wildly. “I–well, we just…Tiresias!” he exclaimed, turning to the prophet as if for help.

But Tiresias only chuckled, his hand still settled at Hermes' elbow, his fingers squeezing gently. “It was a very thorough walk,” he said smoothly, his voice full of reverence and something wickedly playful. His hand grazed just slightly against Hermes' side, his thumb brushing over the fabric of his own robe, now hanging off Hermes' shoulders. “I wanted to make sure he…enjoyed the scenery.”

Odysseus barked out a laugh, his hand coming up to clap Hermes on the shoulder with just a bit more force than necessary. “I’d say he definitely enjoyed the scenery,” he teased, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Though I’m starting to think the scenery enjoyed him too.”

Hermes' wings fluttered wildly, petals scattering around him. “I–no, I…” he sputtered, hands fisting the edges of the robe even tighter. “It was just a walk!”

Penelope arched a brow, her smile turning almost predatory. “A walk,” she repeated, voice dipping with humor. “And that’s how you came back like this? Wearing Tiresias’s robe and with marks that would make a soldier blush?”

Hermes' blush deepened, and he sputtered again, wings fluttering with frantic energy. “I-I didn’t! It wasn’t…” He glanced desperately at Tiresias, his eyes pleading for rescue.

But Tiresias was no help. His grin only widened, hand still steady at Hermes' elbow. “Oh, I don’t mind them knowing,” Tiresias murmured, voice full of reverence and just a hint of wickedness. “I’m quite proud of my handiwork.” His hand slid up to brush just beneath the edge of the robe, fingertips grazing over one of the deeper bruises with deliberate tenderness.

Hermes squeaked again and swatted Tiresias’s hand away, his wings fluttering wildly. “You! You’re insatiable!” he declared, voice cracking. His hands clutched at the robe, pulling it tighter as if the fabric might somehow shield him from the teasing smiles.

Penelope’s laughter was soft and elegant, her hand coming up to her mouth. “Oh, I think I like this,” she mused, her eyes twinkling. “Who would have guessed our sweet messenger would come back so well-loved?”

Odysseus snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Makes you wonder what the birds were singing about,” he mused, his eyes sparkling. “I could’ve sworn I heard something like a scream earlier. But I just assumed Tiresias had stepped on a thorn.”

Hermes' wings fluttered so violently that petals practically exploded around him. “No! It wasn’t…I mean–well, I wasn’t–” He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I hate all of you.”

Tiresias chuckled, patting Hermes' shoulder with a kind of unrepentant satisfaction. “That’s not what you were saying earlier,” they murmured, voice low and teasing. “You were quite expressive, if I remember correctly.” His hand squeezed Hermes' shoulder gently, his smile growing. “I could always help you remember.”

Hermes squeaked again, swatting at Tiresias’s hand. “Stop it!” he gasped, cheeks flushed crimson. “You’re terrible!”

“I’m honest,” Tiresias replied smoothly, utterly unrepentant. His hand slipped back to Hermes' elbow, guiding him forward with gentle insistence. “And I seem to recall you enjoying terrible things.”

Penelope stifled another laugh behind her hand, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, you two are just precious,” she murmured, her voice edged with warmth. “I’m so glad you’re here, both of you.”

Hermes' wings fluttered just slightly, the blush still staining his cheeks, but his smile was unmistakable. He straightened just slightly, still clutching the edges of the robe, and glanced back at Tiresias with something soft and warm in his eyes. “I’m glad too,” he whispered.

Tiresias only smiled, their hand steady at Hermes' elbow, guiding him forward with gentle reverence. “Come on, little bird,” they murmured, voice low and edged with warmth. “Let’s get you inside. You might need some water after that ‘walk.’”

Odysseus barked out another laugh, and Penelope shook her head, mirth dancing in her eyes. “I’ll have something brought to the table,” she promised, her voice smooth and warm. “I’m sure you two have worked up quite the appetite.”

Hermes huffed, wings fluttering indignantly. “I swear, I’m never living this down.”

Tiresias only laughed, his hand squeezing gently. “No, little bird. I don’t think you are.” His breath ghosted over Hermes' ear, voice dipping low and teasing. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The walk through the hall was punctuated by more of Hermes' half-hearted sputters and Tiresias's warm chuckles. The prophet's hand stayed steady at Hermes' elbow, contentedly holding him. Hermes tugged Tiresias’s robe tighter around his shoulders, wings fluttering nervously atop his head, shooting the occasional glare back at Tiresias.

Penelope and Odysseus walked just behind them, the occasional snicker or muffled laugh slipping through their failed attempts at maintaining decorum. Hermes would shoot a glare over his shoulder, cheeks still a soft shade of crimson, but the couple seemed utterly unbothered by his flustered state.

“You know,” Penelope began, her voice smooth, “it’s not every day we see you in such fine spirits, Hermes.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “It’s rather refreshing, actually.”

Odysseus grinned, nodding in agreement. “I don’t think I’ve seen you that red since Telemachus tried to mimic your trickery and ended up face-first in the dirt.”

Hermes groaned, his wings fluttering wildly. “I hate all of you,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “You’re all absolutely insufferable.”

Tiresias laughed, his hand squeezing Hermes' arm with unyielding tenderness. “I believe you said that to me not too long ago,” he mused, his voice full of playful warmth. “Though you didn’t seem to mean it then, either.”

Hermes spluttered, wings giving another frantic flutter. “Starlight!” he hissed, his hands clutching tighter at the edges of the robe. “You!” He cut off, shaking his head with a laugh. “I’m going to stop talking to you. Forever. Just never again.”

Penelope snorted, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true, dear,” she replied smoothly. “I think you’d miss him far too much.” Her gaze flickered over the two of them, warmth softening her features. “And besides, I think he’d miss you more.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed a deep crimson, but the smile that spread across his lips was soft and genuine. He glanced at Tiresias, eyes shimmering with something fragile and beautiful, and the prophet’s smile grew, their hand squeezing Hermes' arm with practiced tenderness. “Well, you’re not wrong,” Tiresias murmured, voice soft. “I think I would.”

Penelope beamed, but she said nothing more, only turning back to Odysseus with a soft smile. The four of them continued down the hall, the familiar stone walls stretching out before them until they finally reached the dining room. The long wooden table was already set, platters of bread, olives, and figs arranged neatly in the center, pitchers of cool water and wine resting beside them.

Penelope gestured gracefully toward the seats, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Please, sit. I’ll have something more substantial brought out shortly.”

Tiresias settled in beside him, his hand resting on the edge of the table, his expression serene. Hermes' fingers curled around the edge of the robe, his wings fluttering once more as he cast a quick glance around the table. Penelope and Odysseus had already taken their seats across from them, and both were watching with barely concealed amusement.

Penelope poured a glass of water and slid it across the table with practiced elegance. “You must be thirsty,” she mused, voice smooth. “You were gone for quite some time.”

Hermes' blush returned in full force, and he took the cup quickly, nearly spilling it in his haste. “Thank you!” he practically squeaked, his wings fluttering wildly.

Odysseus chuckled, taking a drink from his own cup. “You look well-rested,” he commented smoothly, eyes twinkling with humor. “Whatever you two were up to, I’d say it was quite fulfilling.” He raised his cup in mock toast. “To morning strolls.”

Hermes sputtered, wings fluttering with such force that petals scattered across the tabletop. “I hate all of you!” he gasped, hands flying up to his cheeks. “You’re insufferable! All of you!”

Penelope only laughed, her voice musical and bright. “Oh, darling, we’re just happy for you.” Her eyes flickered over him with unmistakable warmth. “You deserve to feel loved, truly.” Her gaze softened, and she reached out, squeezing his hand gently. “And it looks like you are.”

Hermes' blush softened into something warm and tender, his wings giving a soft flutter. He squeezed her hand back, a smile spreading across his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I…I really am.”

Tiresias’s hand brushed against Hermes' elbow beneath the table, his fingers squeezing gently. Hermes turned to him, and for a moment, the teasing fell away, replaced with something soft and unyielding, something that spoke of trust and devotion.

Penelope cleared her throat, a smile playing at her lips. “Well, you two are just lovely,” she murmured, voice edged with affection. “I’m glad you found each other.”

Hermes flushed, but his smile never wavered. “Me too,” he whispered, voice soft and steady. “Me too.”

Tiresias leaned back comfortably in his chair, his hand still brushing just slightly against Hermes' elbow, his smile never fading. But before they could respond, the door to the hall swung open with a creak, and Telemachus burst in, hair wild from training, a wooden practice sword slung across his back. His eyes flickered around the room before they landed on Hermes; specifically, on Hermes dressed in Tiresias's robe, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, and faint marks peeking from beneath the collar.

Telemachus blinked. And then blinked again. “Hermes?” he asked, voice edged with confusion. “Why are you, uh, is that Tiresias’s robe?”

Hermes spluttered, wings fluttering wildly. “I, well, I,” He glanced down at himself, tugging the robe tighter with a desperate grip. “It’s just, uh, it’s a long story?”

Telemachus tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. His gaze zeroed in on the bruises peeking from beneath the collar, his expression immediately shifting from confusion to alarm. “Wait…what happened to you?” he demanded, his voice rising. His eyes flickered over the dark marks, his hand coming up to point. “Did someone…did someone hurt you?”

Hermes' wings gave a frantic flutter. “What? No! No, no, no!” He waved his hands wildly. “I’m fine! Really!”

But Telemachus wasn’t buying it. His eyes were sharp, narrowed with determination, and his hand gripped the hilt of his practice sword. “Who did that to you?” he demanded, voice low and edged with the kind of protective fury that Odysseus would have been proud of, had the king not been trying to hold his laughter back at the situation. “I swear, if someone laid a hand on you–”

Hermes sputtered, his wings fluttering wildly. “No one laid a hand on me!” he protested, shaking his head frantically. “I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine!”

“No one laid a hand on you, did they?” Tiresias whispered lowly, so that just Hermes heard. The messenger spun around.

“You’re not helping at all, mister,” he scolded. Tiresias chuckled, but remained silent…for now.

But Telemachus’s eyes only narrowed further, his stance growing more rigid. “Hermes,” he said slowly, his voice full of disbelief. “You’re wearing a robe that isn’t yours, you have bruises all over you, and you look like you’ve been through a battle.” He stepped closer, eyes blazing with concern. “Who did this? Tell me.”

Hermes groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I promise it wasn’t,” he trailed off, his cheeks flushing an even deeper crimson. “It wasn’t like that.”

Telemachus’s brow furrowed. “Like what?” he asked, voice edged with impatience. “Hermes, if someone hurt you, I swear–”

“It wasn’t like that!” Hermes practically squeaked, his wings fluttering wildly. He shot a desperate look at Tiresias, his eyes pleading. “Help me!”

Tiresias only smiled, his hand slipping from Hermes' elbow to fold neatly in his lap. “Oh, I think you’re doing just fine, little bird,” he murmured, voice dripping with mirth. His lips curled into a grin. “Though I must admit, I’m curious to see how you explain it.”

Hermes sputtered, wings fluttering wildly. “Starlight!” he gasped, voice cracking. “You’re terrible!”

Tiresias chuckled, utterly unrepentant. “I’m honest,” he replied smoothly. His head tilted slightly toward Telemachus. “Don’t worry, young prince. He’s perfectly fine. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.” His smile grew just a little wider. “Though I can’t say he wasn’t…handled.”

Hermes practically choked, wings scattering petals across the room as Telemachus’s expression grew more bewildered. “Handled?” Telemachus echoed, voice full of disbelief. “What does that even mean?”

Hermes groaned, covering his face with both hands. “I hate everyone in this palace,” he muttered, voice muffled.

Penelope giggled behind her hand, and Odysseus simply shook his head, a grin stretching wide across his face. Telemachus, however, was still frowning, arms crossed and eyes squinted in determination. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, gaze flickering between Hermes and Tiresias.

Telemachus's eyes darted back and forth between Hermes and Tiresias, his brow furrowed with unyielding concern. His grip tightened on the practice sword slung across his back, and his gaze fixed firmly on the dark marks peeking out from Hermes' collar. “I don’t understand,” he repeated, voice steady but edged with worry. “Hermes, who hurt you?”

Hermes' wings gave an unbidden flutter, sending petals swirling around his feet. His cheeks flushed a deeper crimson. “N-No one hurt me!” he protested, shaking his head frantically. “I’m fine! Really!”

But Telemachus’s eyes narrowed, his hand still gripping the hilt of his wooden sword with a kind of determination that was painfully reminiscent of Odysseus. “You don’t look fine!” he shot back, voice rising just slightly. “You’ve got bruises all over you, and you’re wearing Tiresias’s robe. I swear, if someone did this to you,” His voice dropped, teeth clenching. “I won’t let them get away with it.”

Hermes sputtered, wings fluttering wildly. “Telemachus, I promise you, I’m perfectly okay!” he gasped, hands waving wildly. “No one attacked me!” Tiresias chuckled behind him.

“But you’re covered in marks!” Telemachus insisted, his eyes sharp and unyielding. “Someone did something to you! Just tell me who, and I’ll–”

“I assure you, young prince, Hermes wasn’t harmed. He was quite well taken care of, actually.” His fingers brushed just slightly over Hermes' shoulder, squeezing gently.

Hermes squeaked, wings fluttering again with such force that petals practically exploded around him. “Starlight!” he gasped, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. “Don’t…don’t say it like that!”

Tiresias only chuckled, entirely unrepentant. “I’m only speaking the truth,” he replied smoothly, his hand still resting gently on Hermes' shoulder. “You were very well attended to, songbird. I made sure of that.”

Telemachus blinked, his expression shifting from worry to pure, unfiltered confusion. “I don’t…” His gaze flickered between the two of them, and his hand fell from the hilt of his practice sword. “I don’t understand.” His eyes settled back on Hermes. “You…you weren’t attacked?”

Hermes sputtered, hands flying up to cover his face. “No! No, I wasn’t attacked!” he groaned, wings giving another frantic flutter. “I’m fine! Perfectly fine!”

Telemachus stared, his brow furrowing deeper. “But you’re covered in bruises,” he pressed, voice full of disbelief. “And you’re in Tiresias’s robe, and you look,” He gestured wildly with both hands. “You look like you got run over by a chariot!”

Hermes groaned again, his wings fluttering helplessly. He cast a desperate look at Tiresias, who was still smiling with utter contentment, and then back to Telemachus, whose expression was filled with worry and confusion. “I, uh,” He cleared his throat, wings fluttering one last time before settling. “Telemachus, you see.”

Telemachus leaned in, his eyes sharp and determined. “Yes?”

Hermes swallowed hard, his hands clutching at the edge of the robe. He glanced back at Tiresias, who merely raised a brow in encouragement, his smile never wavering. Hermes sucked in a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and gave Telemachus the most sheepish smile he could muster.

“Well, you see, Telemachus,” Hermes began, voice shaking just slightly. “When two souls love each other very much,”

Telemachus blinked. Then he blinked again. His eyes flickered over the marks on Hermes' collarbone, the robe that was very obviously not his own, and then to Tiresias, who looked utterly unashamed. His cheeks flushed pink, and then red, and then a deep, deep crimson as the realization dawned.

“Oh,” he squeaked, his wings fluttering slightly at his back. “Oh gods.” His hands flew up to cover his mouth, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “I-I…oh!”

Penelope, who had been holding it in valiantly, finally burst into a fit of soft, elegant laughter, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she giggled. Odysseus followed suit, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he clapped Telemachus on the back with enough force to make the younger man stumble forward.

“Seems you’ve had quite the education today, son!” Odysseus laughed, his voice rich with amusement. “I hope you were paying attention!”

Telemachus sputtered, wings fluttering wildly. “I-I wasn’t,” he stammered, his hands still covering his face. “I didn’t. Oh gods.”

Hermes groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never going to live this down,” he muttered, voice muffled and edged with despair. “Never.”

Tiresias only chuckled, his hand squeezing Hermes' shoulder with unyielding tenderness. “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, his voice low and playful. “I think you wear it well, little bird.” He leaned in, his breath ghosting over Hermes' ear. “I could always give you more. You know in case anyone needs convincing.”

Hermes squeaked again, his wings fluttering with enough force to send a flurry of petals scattering across the table. “Gods, Tiresias!” he gasped, voice cracking. Tiresias only laughed.

Penelope’s laughter hadn’t stopped, and she wiped at her eyes with an utterly genuine smile. “Well,” she began, her voice still edged with mirth. “That was quite the way to start lunch, wouldn’t you say?”

Hermes groaned again, burying his face even deeper in his hands. “I hate all of you,” he mumbled, voice muffled.

Hermes' face remained firmly planted in his hands, wings fluttering slightly as if trying to scatter the embarrassment from his body like petals on the wind. Telemachus had finally removed his hands from his own face, though his cheeks were still a brilliant shade of crimson, and he refused to make eye contact with anyone. Penelope, meanwhile, had composed herself, though the edges of her mouth still twitched with barely-contained amusement. Odysseus simply looked far too pleased for his own good, his grin stretching wide as he leaned back in his chair.

Hermes dared to peek out from between his fingers, his gaze darting to Tiresias, who sat serenely at his side, sipping from a glass of water as if nothing at all were amiss. His expression was utterly unabashed, his smile soft and unyielding, utterly content in the aftermath of the chaos they had helped to sow. Hermes swallowed, lowering his hands just slightly. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, voice edged with exasperation.

Tiresias chuckled, setting his glass back down with a soft clink. “I’ve been told as much,” he replied smoothly, his fingers drumming lightly on the tabletop. His head tilted just slightly toward Hermes, a grin spreading across their lips. “And yet, you don’t seem to mind.”

Hermes sputtered, wings giving a frantic flutter beneath the borrowed robe. “I, well, that’s not…I mean,” He faltered, his cheeks flushing a deeper crimson. “That’s not the point!”

Odysseus snorted, taking a long drink from his own cup. “I think it might be the point,” he mused, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Seems to me you didn’t mind at all, little god.”

Hermes groaned, burying his face in his hands once more. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Tiresias’s hand slipped to his elbow again, a gentle, grounding touch. His fingers brushed over the soft linen of his own robe, and his smile grew just slightly. “Oh, you will,” he said smoothly, voice full of warmth. “I’d say you have until, hmm,” He paused, tapping his chin in mock thought. “I’d say until your siblings show up.”

Hermes froze.

Hermes spun around sharply, cheeks flushed a deep, burning red, wings fluttering wildly beneath Tiresias’s robe. His voice cracked with a mix of frustration and disbelief as he pointed an accusing finger at the calm prophet. “What have you done? They will never let this go!”

Tiresias just smiled, unbothered, their fingers brushing gently over Hermes' elbow with practiced ease. “I don’t recall you asking me to stop,” they said, voice smooth and teasing.

At that, Penelope’s soft, elegant laughter filled the room, warm and light, while Odysseus chuckled heartily, shaking his head with amusement. Telemachus groaned dramatically, burying his face in his hands.

Hermes' smile wavered, faltering into a slight panic as the weight of Tiresias’s words settled on him. His breath quickened, wings twitching nervously as he glanced toward the door, imagining the exact scene that would unfold when Apollo and Athena returned. “What if they really don’t let it go?” he muttered, voice trembling. “What if they laugh at me forever? What if–”

Tiresias’s hand lifted gently, resting on Hermes' cheek, their thumb brushing softly over his flushed skin, grounding him. “Hey,” Tiresias murmured softly. “I see the worry in you, little bird. But you’re not alone in this. They love you. They’ll tease, yes, but always with love.”

Hermes' breath hitched, the panic loosening just a bit as he leaned into the comforting touch. “I just…I don’t want to be the joke,” he whispered.

Tiresias smiled, brushing a stray curl from Hermes' forehead with tenderness. “Then let them laugh with you, not at you. And when they do, I’ll be here to remind you just how wonderful you are.”

Hermes' wings fluttered softly, his eyes meeting Tiresias’s with a fragile but grateful smile. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tiresias chuckled, squeezing his cheek gently. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Notes:

Alright. I may post one more chapter later tonight, but if not, that's all for today. I will be back next week for sure, I might be able to post one or two more throughout the week, but I'm not promising anything for sure as I've got other priorities this week.

As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. And go take care of yourselves! Drink water, take a nap, eat food, and if you have to, go take your meds!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 61

Summary:

Hermes tries to prove a point, Tiresias proves his own.

Literally just silliness and fluff in one of my favorite chapters.

The soft morning light spilled through the tall windows of the hall, casting warm, dappled patterns along the stone floor. Penelope’s voice carried through the room, smooth and bright as she looked up from her seat. “I was thinking,” she began, eyes sparkling with warmth, “that perhaps the five of us could spend the afternoon together. Just a quiet outing. It would be nice to enjoy the day while it’s still so lovely.”

Hermes blinked, surprise flickering across his expression before it softened into something warmer. “That…that sounds wonderful,” he said, his wings fluttering just slightly behind him. “I’d really like that.”

Odysseus grinned, leaning back in his chair with a look of approval. “A fine idea, my love. I think we could all use a bit of fresh air.”

Telemachus perked up, his eyes brightening. “I can show you the new path I found near the olive groves! It’s beautiful, wildflowers everywhere.” His hands moved with his words, already animated by the idea of exploring.

Hermes' smile grew, his wings fluttering more earnestly now. “That sounds perfect.”

Tiresias, who had been standing quietly at Hermes' side, tilted his head, his expression softening. “It sounds like a perfect afternoon,” they murmured, voice full of warmth.

Hermes hesitated just slightly before glancing down at himself, still dressed in Tiresias’s oversized robe, the fabric brushing his calves and sleeves dangling past his fingertips. He flushed a little, tugging at the edge. “Maybe I should, uh, put my clothes back on?” He glanced at Tiresias, then back at Penelope and Odysseus. “I don’t think I should go out like…like this.”

Odysseus chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “I don’t know, you pull off the look quite well.”

Hermes spluttered, wings giving a frantic flutter. “I-I’m going to change!” he declared, turning on his heel. Tiresias’s soft laughter followed him, but before Hermes could take more than a few steps, Penelope’s voice called after him.

“Don’t go for another ‘walk!’ We want to leave soon!” Her voice was filled with teasing, the lightness of her laugh echoing through the hall.

Hermes stumbled, turning to gape at her, cheeks flushed crimson. “I-I wouldn’t!” he protested, wings fluttering frantically. Penelope only raised an eyebrow, her smile growing. Hermes huffed, spinning back around and heading for his room, his wings still twitching indignantly.

Tiresias followed, their footsteps echoing softly down the hall. They reached the room with practiced ease, and Hermes pushed open the door, stepping inside with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, everyone in this house has it out for me,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

Tiresias only chuckled, their hand brushing gently against Hermes' arm. “I do like you wearing my robes,” they murmured, voice low and full of reverence. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.”

Hermes turned, eyes softening at the words. He stepped closer, reaching out to brush his fingertips along the edges of the robe. “I’m always yours,” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “With or without your robes.” His wings gave a soft flutter, a few petals drifting lazily to the floor.

Tiresias smiled, their hand reaching out to brush a stray curl from Hermes' face. “I like hearing you say that,” he murmured, voice warm and unyielding.

Hermes' cheeks flushed, and he stepped back just slightly, glancing around the room. “I should…I should find something to wear.” He moved toward his wardrobe, fingers trailing along the carved wood before pulling the door open. His eyes scanned the tunics hanging neatly inside, fingers brushing over the fabrics as he considered his options.

But the longer he stared, the more he hesitated. His hand stilled on the edge of a dark green tunic, and his cheeks flushed a soft pink. “I, um…” He cleared his throat. “I think I might…need to get you a muzzle, Starlight.” His voice cracked just slightly, and he couldn’t bring himself to look back at Tiresias. “I don’t think I can wear any of these.”

Tiresias tilted their head, the corner of their mouth twitching. “Oh?” they hummed, a small grin curled on his face. “I thought you liked those tunics.”

Hermes groaned, his wings fluttering in agitation. “I do! But I can’t wear any of them without…without…” His cheeks flushed even darker, and he gestured wildly at his collarbone, where the edges of dark, vivid marks peeked from beneath the robe. “You got a little…enthusiastic,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Tiresias’s smile grew, utterly unrepentant. “I recall you encouraging me,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer and running their fingertips over the edge of the robe. “I could always lend you my robe again. I wouldn’t mind.”

Hermes scoffed, rolling his eyes even as his wings fluttered softly. “I’d be tripping over it all day.”

Tiresias hummed thoughtfully, their fingers brushing over the fabric with practiced care. “Not if we fix it,” he murmured, voice low. “May I?”

Hermes blinked, surprised, but he nodded. “I, uh, yeah, sure.”

Tiresias stepped closer, hands moving with gentle precision as he began to adjust the robe. His hands moved to the belt at Hermes' waist, pulling it tighter and knotting it with deft fingers. The excess fabric was looped and tucked, secured in a way that lifted the hem just enough to brush Hermes' knees without trailing. They smoothed the sleeves, folding them back neatly and securing them with small ties pulled from the drawer.

Hermes blinked, glancing down at himself with wide eyes. “How did you…?” He turned, catching his reflection in the polished bronze mirror. The robe fit snugly now, elegant and flowing, but practical. His wings fluttered slightly, and he turned back to Tiresias with an incredulous smile. “You made it look good,” he breathed.

Tiresias smiled, hands settling at Hermes' shoulders. “I told you,” they murmured, voice full of reverence. “You’re always beautiful.” They leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Hermes' temple. “But now, you’re ready to go.”

Hermes flushed, his wings fluttering softly. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice tender. “I…I think I’m ready.”

Tiresias stepped back, holding out their arm. “Then let’s go, little bird. The others are waiting.”

Hermes took a breath, his hand slipping into Tiresias’s, fingers threading together as they left the room. His wings fluttered softly behind him, petals drifting in their wake as they headed back to the main hall where Penelope, Odysseus, and Telemachus waited.

The sunlight greeted them warmly as they stepped back into the courtyard, Hermes still draped in the neatly adjusted robe, its edges skimming his ankles and fluttering with each step. Tiresias walked beside him with practiced ease, his hand resting lightly on Hermes' elbow, though it was more of a habit than necessity with his staff held in the other. Hermes' cheeks were still faintly flushed, and he couldn’t help the small flutter of his wings.

As they approached the stone benches where Penelope, Odysseus, and Telemachus sat, deep in conversation, it didn’t take long for the three of them to take notice. Penelope’s eyes sparkled with mirth, Odysseus’s brow lifted in curiosity, and Telemachus just groaned as if he already knew where this was going.

“Oh, you’re still wearing that?” Penelope asked, her voice shaking with barely-contained amusement. “Did you forget your own clothes, or are you just rather fond of his wardrobe?”

Hermes sputtered, his wings giving a frantic flutter that sent stray petals scattering to the floor. “I, uh, well,” he began, fumbling with the edges of the robe as if it might suddenly turn invisible. He turned, shooting Tiresias a pleading look.

But Tiresias only chuckled, utterly unrepentant. He leaned back with an air of grace and confidence, his hands resting on the carved edge of the bench. “You can tell them, little bird,” he encouraged, their smile growing wickedly playful. “Go on.”

Hermes sputtered again, his ankle wings twitching nervously. “Traitor,” he whispered under his breath before facing the group, cheeks already flushed a deep crimson. “It’s just…uh, none of my tunics really…cover enough,” he mumbled, voice dropping to a whisper. His wings fluttered just slightly, petals swirling around his feet. “So I had to, well, I couldn’t–”

Penelope arched a brow, leaning forward with a grin that was positively feline. “Couldn’t cover enough?” she repeated, voice smooth and teasing. “And whose fault would that be?”

Hermes opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, wings fluttering indignantly. “I don’t…it’s not my fault!” he spluttered, his hands flapping wildly. “I just…Tiresias!”

Tiresias only laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I tried to convince him to wear a tunic,” he said smoothly, voice dipping with mirth. “But it seems I got a bit carried away.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, his hand brushing just slightly against Hermes' side. “Our poor bird is a little too purple and red beneath those robes.”

Penelope gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth as she stifled a laugh. Odysseus just threw his head back and laughed heartily, clapping his knee with a grin. Telemachus, for his part, groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I did not need to know that,” he muttered, voice muffled.

But Tiresias wasn’t done. His hand crept forward, fingers finding the edge of the robe and pulling back just a fraction, just enough for a peek of the purpling marks that bloomed across Hermes' collarbone. “See?” he murmured, voice full of reverence. “Quite the masterpiece, if I do say so myself.”

Hermes squeaked, a genuine, high-pitched squeak, and flailed, grabbing the edge of the robe and pulling it back up with all the force of a man drowning and clutching at driftwood. “Tiresias!” he gasped, wings fluttering so wildly that petals burst out around them. “You can’t just, you can’t just show them that!”

Tiresias raised a brow, entirely unbothered. “Why not?” he asked smoothly, his hand settling back at Hermes' waist with practiced ease. “I’m proud of it.”

Penelope burst into full laughter, the sound bright and echoing, while Odysseus slapped his knee again, his grin stretching impossibly wide. “Gods above, you two are a menace,” Odysseus declared, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen someone turn this shade of red since…well, I don’t think I ever have!”

Hermes groaned, his hands flying up to cover his face, only for his head wings to instinctively flutter forward as if to shield him from the mortification. “I’m never going to live this down,” he muttered, voice muffled and edged with despair. “Never.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Tiresias replied easily, his hand brushing gently against Hermes' side. “Eventually. Maybe.” His fingers moved just slightly, grazing one of the deeper bruises right beneath Hermes' collarbone, one they knew was particularly sensitive.

Hermes let out an unbidden squeak, practically leaping out of his skin as his ankle wings fluttered wildly, nearly lifting him off the ground. His head wings flared, completely covering his face now, and he flailed, stepping back with such suddenness that he nearly tripped over the robe. “T-Tiresias!” he gasped, voice cracking. “You!”

“What?” Tiresias asked, utterly unrepentant, his smile growing wider. “I’m just admiring my work.”

Hermes sputtered. “That–that’s–! You’re–!” He couldn’t even find the words, only swatted at Tiresias’s arm helplessly.

Penelope, tears streaming down her cheeks from laughter, finally caught her breath long enough to speak. “Oh, Hermes, darling,” she choked out between giggles. “You really are something else.”

Hermes groaned, wings fluttering as he shook his head. “I hate all of you,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to it, just flustered, mortified warmth. “I’m never coming back here again.”

Odysseus clapped him on the back, sending him stumbling forward. “Oh, I don’t think you have much choice, little god,” he chuckled, eyes sparkling. “You’re part of the family now.”

Hermes sputtered, his head wings still covering his face. “I-I, well, I,” he stammered, voice muffled.

Tiresias only chuckled, his hand brushing gently over Hermes' back in soothing, steady strokes. “You’re beautiful, little bird,” he murmured, voice full of reverence and something wickedly fond. “Even when you’re flustered.”

Hermes huffed, finally peeking out from behind his head wings, his cheeks still flushed. “I’m not talking to you for the rest of the day,” he declared, his wings fluttering with indignation.

Tiresias only laughed, utterly unbothered. “We both know that’s not true.”

Hermes flustered, wings fluttering wildly once more. “Maybe it is this time!” he declared, head wings still twitching at his sides.

Penelope only chuckled, wiping at her eyes. “Well, if this is how our afternoon is beginning, I can only imagine what’s next.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Should we get going before Tiresias has him turning even redder?”

Odysseus laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck with that.” He gave Hermes a hearty clap on the back, making him stumble once more. “Come on, Hermes. Let’s see what this afternoon holds.”

Hermes shot Tiresias one last glare, but his hand slipped into his prophet’s anyway, fingers lacing together with unspoken fondness. “You’re still terrible,” he muttered, voice soft and warm.

Tiresias only smiled, utterly unrepentant. “I know.”

The sun shone brightly as the group began their walk, sunlight filtering through the olive trees and casting dappled shadows along the stone path. Penelope led the way, her gown fluttering with each graceful step, Odysseus at her side, his arm linked with hers. Telemachus walked just ahead, his wooden practice sword still strapped to his back, and there, trailing just a step behind, were Hermes and Tiresias.

Hermes, still wrapped in Tiresias's robe, had his wings tucked close to his body, head wings twitching slightly in irritation. His gaze was firmly planted ahead, jaw set in determination. Beside him, Tiresias walked with his usual grace, one hand resting gently on Hermes' elbow for guidance, though the touch was featherlight, more of a connection than a need.

But Hermes? Hermes was silent. Gone were the usual stories and jokes, his chatter, laughter, all of it. Aside from the occasional soft warning to Tiresias of an incoming rock or branch in their path, Hermes was silent. Having decided to make good on his promise to not speak for the rest of the day. One might say it was peaceful, Penelope and Odysseus surely did. Telemachus found it mildly concerning as the fallen god was not known for being quiet, but the prince paid little attention to it.

Tiresias, however, saw it as a challenge. A delightful puzzle. A chance to see just what it might take to make Hermes speak once again.

Penelope threw a glance back over her shoulder, brow raised. “You two alright back there? You’re awfully quiet.”

Hermes just nodded firmly, his head wings fluttering slightly, but his mouth pressed into a thin line. Tiresias only smiled, entirely unbothered. “I think someone’s feeling a bit… stubborn today,” they murmured, voice full of playful reverence. His hand squeezed just slightly on Hermes' arm, and Hermes stiffened but refused to meet his gaze. “Oh, I see,” Tiresias mused, their hand slipping just a little further up Hermes' arm. “You’ve decided to punish me with silence. How cruel of you, little bird.” Their voice dipped lower, laced with playful warmth. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt you so deeply.”

Penelope chuckled. “Oh? Did something happen?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but Hermes only shrugged, his gaze stubbornly trained on the stone path ahead.

Odysseus smirked, elbowing his wife gently. “Seems like Tiresias got him all flustered,” he muttered, just loud enough for Hermes to hear. “I’d wager the little god is trying to prove a point.”

Hermes' wings fluttered indignantly, sending stray petals into the breeze, but he still didn’t speak. Tiresias hummed softly, entirely unperturbed. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come around,” he said with a grin, his voice low and warm. “I don’t think he’ll make it another hour.”

Hermes' jaw clenched just slightly, and his wings flared just a bit before settling back down. Tiresias chuckled, fingers brushing gently against the fabric of his robe. “Oh, little bird, you’re really trying, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes' head wings twitched, but he kept his gaze stubbornly forward, ignoring the teasing tone. His ankle wings fluttered just slightly, and he crossed his arms tightly across his chest.

“Oh my,” Penelope laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve never seen him this committed to anything. What did you do to him, Tiresias?”

Tiresias only chuckled, his hand still resting lightly on Hermes' elbow. “Oh, nothing much,” he replied smoothly. “I just made sure he felt as good as he looked,” they dropped their voice, leaning close to Hermes’ ear, breath brushing against the messenger’s neck, “and he looked divine.”

Hermes let out a very pointed huff, head wings fluttering just slightly, but still didn’t speak. Telemachus, who had been walking just ahead of them, turned back with a raised brow. “Wait,” he began, brows knitting together. “Is Hermes seriously not talking? Like for the rest of the day? Can he even do that?"

“That appears to be the case,” Tiresias replied, utterly unbothered. “I think he’s decided I don’t deserve his voice for the day.”

Telemachus snorted, walking backward for a few paces to grin at Hermes. “I didn’t think you were capable of silence,” he teased. “I’m almost impressed.”

Hermes narrowed his eyes, wings twitching in indignation, but still, he said nothing. Telemachus whistled low. “He really is committed,” he mused, chuckling. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried.”

“Oh, definitely impressed,” Odysseus chimed in, his eyes sparkling. “Though I’ll admit, I’m curious to see how long it lasts.”

“Maybe we should place bets,” Penelope suggested, her voice smooth and edged with mirth. “I’m saying an hour at most.”

“Two hours,” Odysseus countered. “I think our little god is a bit more stubborn than you give him credit for.”

Telemachus glanced back, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I give him thirty minutes,” he said, voice full of teasing confidence.

Hermes glared at all of them, his wings flaring slightly in indignation, but still, he held his tongue. Tiresias’s smile only grew. “Well, I’m quite enjoying the challenge,” he murmured, his hand squeezing Hermes' elbow just slightly. “But you do know I’ll win, right?”

Hermes shot him a glare, head wings flaring wide. But he still didn’t speak.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Odysseus snorted, shaking his head. “I think you’re in for it, Tiresias. Hermes isn’t known for keeping his mouth shut, but I haven’t seen this much determination from anyone in a while.”

“Mm,” Tiresias hummed, their voice dipping with playful reverence. “I suppose we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Hermes huffed again, wings twitching indignantly, but still, not a word left his lips. His gaze remained firmly planted ahead, and his arms crossed just a bit tighter over his chest, his chin lifting in defiance. His wings were definitely more active, trying to convey all the words the stubborn god wanted to say.

Penelope smiled fondly at the sight, shaking her head with amusement. “Well, I don’t know how long this will last, but I have to admit, it’s fun to watch.”

Hermes shot her a look, head wings twitching. Penelope merely grinned back, entirely unbothered. “You look adorable when you’re flustered,” she called back, voice dripping with teasing.

Hermes' cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and his wings fluttered wildly, sending a few fallen petals scattering along the path ahead. He glared resolutely forward, determined to hold his tongue.

But Tiresias only chuckled, his hand brushing just slightly against Hermes' arm. “I do love a good challenge,” he whispered, voice full of warmth. “I wonder how long you’ll last, little bird.”

Hermes' wings flared indignantly, but still, he said nothing.

“Impressive,” Tiresias murmured, his smile growing. “I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far.” His hand squeezed gently. “But I wonder how long you can hold out. I know all your little weaknesses, after all.”

Hermes shot him a sharp glare, his wings twitching, but he remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Oh, I’m going to have fun with this,” Tiresias whispered, his voice low and warm. “So much fun. I do, however, love, just how much more expressive your wings are. I can hear them trying to say everything I know you long to say, sweet bird.”

Hermes only glared harder, his wings fluttering with defiant energy. But Tiresias only smiled and squeezed his arm just a bit tighter as they walked.

The walk through the sun-dappled gardens was filled with warmth and gentle breezes, but Hermes remained resolutely silent. His wings fluttered at his ankles with each step, a rhythmic whisper against the stone path, and his head wings twitched every so often, but not a single word slipped past his lips. Tiresias walked just beside him, staff gently out in front of them, but the playful tension was palpable.

Though determined to prove a point, Hermes was not heartless. He still gently maneuvered Tiresias around loose rocks, helped him upstairs, and made sure they were okay and stayed okay. Even murmuring soft guidances as they traveled up an old stone staircase, helping keep Tiresias steady on his feet.

“Thank you, love,” Tiresias whispered every time, even though the messenger remained silent, Tiresias felt the gentle brush of wings against their calves, as if they were saying Of course.

After a few moments, Tiresias hummed thoughtfully. “You know,” they began, voice smooth and playful, “I wasn’t aware you were so shy, little bird.” His hand slid just slightly, brushing against Hermes' forearm. “I could’ve sworn you were far more vocal this morning.”

Hermes stiffened, his wings giving a frantic flutter, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. His cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, but he did not break. Tiresias’s smile grew.

“Hmm,” Tiresias continued, tapping their chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps I got it wrong. Maybe my dear little bird is just too shy to speak around company.” Their hand brushed along Hermes' elbow again, fingertips just grazing the soft linen of the robe. “Should I tell them how beautifully you sang for me?”

Hermes' wings fluttered violently, his cheeks flushing a deeper red, but he clenched his jaw tighter, resolutely staring straight ahead. Tiresias chuckled, utterly unbothered. “Not even a squeak?” He mused, voice dipping to a teasing hum. “I seem to recall quite a bit of noise before.”

Penelope laughed softly. “I think you may have your work cut out for you,” she said, glancing back at Tiresias with a twinkle in her eye. “Hermes can be stubborn when he wants to be.”

Tiresias merely smiled, utterly unfazed. “Oh, I’m aware, but I don’t mind,” they replied, voice smooth and sure. “I do enjoy a challenge.” His hand squeezed Hermes' elbow gently. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Hermes' wings twitched violently, and he quickened his pace just slightly, brushing past Telemachus with a huff. Tiresias followed easily, their smile never fading.

Hermes, however, froze and turned quickly, gently grabbing Tiresias and pushing them just a little to the left.

“Hermes?” Tiresias asked, and his question was answered by the sound of a stone bouncing off the path. His smile warmed. “Thank you, my love,” he said earnestly. He could feel Hermes’ hands squeeze his arms just a little tighter in response. Then, they felt a soft flick on their cheek. Tiresias stared, dumbfounded.

“Did you just hit me,” his hand raised, “with your wing?” He asked incredulously. Penelope’s soft laughter surrounded him.

“Oh, I wish you could see the twinkle in his eye, Tiresias. He’s awfully proud of himself.” She laughed. Hermes let go of Tiresias and whirled, glaring at the queen. She laughed again. “Oh, don’t be mad at me, little troublemaker. I’m only telling the truth.” 

Hermes glared at her, but there was no real hate in his eyes; his mouth remained resolutely shut. Tiresias chuckled. “Alright,” they hummed, voice softening. “I suppose I could try a different approach.”

They reached back out, gently grabbing Hermes’ arm.

Hermes’ instincts flared, and he turned, checking that Tiresias was alright. Hands ghosting around the prophet’s face. Tiresias’s expression grew thoughtful, almost melancholic. “I must have really upset you,” they murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize you would be so hurt by my teasing.” Their hand squeezed gently, almost reverently. “I…I’m sorry if I went too far.”

Hermes stiffened, his wings giving a tiny flutter. His gaze flickered toward Tiresias, eyes wide with something between disbelief and uncertainty, but he still said nothing.

Tiresias sighed softly, his head bowing just slightly. “I didn’t realize it meant so much to you,” they whispered, their voice threaded with sorrow. “Your silence, I didn’t think it would hurt so much.” Their hand slipped from Hermes' arm, fingers brushing gently against the fabric of the robe. “But I suppose I deserve it.”

Hermes' wings gave a soft flutter, his gaze flickering back to Tiresias. He opened his mouth just slightly, lips parting with a tiny breath, but then he snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head stubbornly.

Tiresias hummed, their smile returning, though it was tinged with a touch of sadness. “I see,” they murmured. “I suppose I’ll just have to get used to this.” His voice dipped to a whisper, almost inaudible. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss your voice.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he almost leaned in, every part of him was screaming at him to hold his prophet close and soothe whatever was making their voice so sad.

“If this is the price I must pay for loving you,” Tiresias murmured, voice heavy with gentle melancholy, “then I will accept it. Even if I never hear you again.”

Hermes' hands gently cupped Tiresias’s face, worry flickering through his eyes, and he opened his mouth. Then the situation dawned on him once more, and he snapped it shut, dropping his hands immediately.

Tiresias’s smile grew, just a touch. “Stubborn little bird,” they murmured, voice soft. “I almost had you. But I’ll break you yet.”

From up ahead, Odysseus snorted softly, his voice carrying back to them with ease. “You really are quite a pair,” he called, his voice edged with amusement. “You know he’s not going to let this go anytime soon.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hand brushing against Hermes' elbow once more. “I know,” they agreed, voice full of warmth. “But that just makes it all the more satisfying when he finally gives in.”

Penelope laughed, her voice bright and full of mirth. “I think I’d pay drachma to watch it happen,” she teased. “I’ve never seen Hermes hold out this long.”

Hermes just huffed, wings fluttering indignantly, and he refused to meet anyone’s eyes, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the path ahead. Part of him was hurt by how easily Tiresias almost had him fooled. Part of him was hurt that his partner would use their love against him. Tiresias sensed the shift in Hermes’ stance and reached out, gently pulling Hermes into their arms.

“I’m sorry, love. That was unfair. I know how much you care. I shouldn’t have used that to trick you.” They murmured, pressing a kiss to Hermes’ temple. Hermes’ soft head wings fluttered, gently brushing against Tiresias’s cheek, whispering Thank you. But the prophet could tell his love was still troubled. He gently cupped Hermes’ cheeks, rubbing his thumbs along the soft skin.

“I love you, my sweet bird. And I know you love me. I know your silence is in jest. I am happy to play your game. I know you love me.” Tiresias could feel the soft smile that spread across Hermes’ face. The god nodded and gently hugged Tiresias. The prophet immediately hugged him back, cradling the back of Hermes’ head.

“But, I will win, sweet bird. I will get you to break.” They whispered and the moment shattered. Hermes pulled himself out of Tiresias’s arms, huffing.

Penelope and Odysseus stood ahead, waiting for the two to have their moment. 

“That’s love,” Penelope murmured to her husband. “Even in the midst of teasing, they hold each other so tenderly. It’s beautiful.” She murmured. Odysseus reached out, grabbing her hand.

“It is. It really is.” He agreed. They laughed as Hermes broke out of the embrace with a huff.

Telemachus had walked a few paces ahead and glanced back with a look of pure exasperation. “Are you really going to keep this up?” he asked, voice flat with disbelief. “You’re going to go all day without saying a word?”

Hermes didn’t answer, his head wings fluttering slightly. Tiresias chuckled, his grip coming to rest on Hermes’ arm again. “Oh, he’s committed,” they murmured, voice full of warmth and amusement. “Darling Hermes is quite stubborn when he wants to be.”

Telemachus rolled his eyes, groaning dramatically. “I don’t know how you’re putting up with it, Hermes,” he muttered. “I would have caved an hour ago. I can’t stand silence.” 

Tiresias just smiled, his expression soft and unyielding. “Oh, I don’t mind,” they replied smoothly. “I think he just needs a little encouragement.” Their hand slipped just slightly, brushing down Hermes' arm, fingers lingering at his wrist before slipping back up. “After all, I did work quite hard to make him look so beautiful. It’s a shame to let it all go to waste.”

Hermes' wings gave a violent flutter, petals scattering wildly behind him, but he kept his gaze stubbornly forward, his mouth still pressed into a thin line. Tiresias’s smile grew. “You know,” they began, voice dipping to a playful hum, “I don’t think anyone really got to appreciate my handiwork.” His hand moved from Hermes' elbow to brush just slightly against his collarbone, fingertips grazing the edge of the robe.

Penelope glanced back with a raised brow. “Handiwork?” she asked, voice edged with mirth. “Oh, Tiresias, don’t tell me you’re talking about–”

“Oh, I am,” Tiresias interrupted smoothly, their fingers slipping just beneath the edge of the robe. “You should have seen it. I was quite thorough.”

Hermes stiffened, his wings fluttering with frantic energy, but still, he did not speak. Tiresias’s smile grew. “Would you like to see?” they asked, voice dripping with mischief. “I promise it’s quite a sight.”

Telemachus groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Gods, no! I’m still trying to unsee what I saw earlier!” he cried, hands flying up to shield his eyes. “I swear, if you two start stripping in the middle of the gardens, I’m leaving.”

Odysseus barked out a laugh, clapping Telemachus on the back. “I think you’ll survive, boy,” he chuckled, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Though I might pay a few drachma to see Hermes go red again.”

Hermes sputtered, his wings fluttering violently beneath the robe, shaking his head. Tiresias’s hands, however, were utterly unyielding. “Oh, but I worked so hard. It would be a shame to not show off my beautiful work.” He teased. Their fingertips brushed just beneath the edge of the robe, grazing over a particularly deep bruise that lay nestled along the curve of Hermes' collarbone.

Hermes flinched, wings twitching, a small gasp escaping him. Tiresias’s smile grew wider, their hand pressing just a bit more firmly. “There we are,” they whispered, voice dropping to a hum. “I remember that one. You gasped so sweetly when I left it.”

Hermes' wings fluttered wildly, petals scattering in a flurry, but still, he did not break. Tiresias hummed softly, their hand drifting just a bit lower, fingertips grazing the edge of the robe where it dipped against Hermes' chest. “Perhaps I should show them,” Tiresias mused, voice full of a playful wickedness. “You do look so lovely in my handiwork. Maybe just a little peek, hmm?”

Hermes' eyes went wide, his wings twitching violently. He turned sharply, eyes flaring with panic, but Tiresias’s hand was already moving. Their fingertips slipped just slightly beneath the edge of the robe, brushing down, fingertips grazing the tender marks just above his sternum.

“T-Tiresias!” Hermes gasped, his voice cracking with panic. His wings flared wildly, scattering petals with frantic energy, and before he could think, he spun, hiding his face in Tiresias’s chest, his hands clutching desperately at the folds of the robe. His wings fluttered violently at his ankles, feathers bristling with mortification.

Tiresias chuckled, their hands settling comfortably on Hermes' back, fingers brushing gently over the robe. His smile was soft, unyielding, and utterly triumphant. “There you are, little bird,” they murmured, satisfaction laced in his tone. Their hand came up to brush through Hermes' curls, fingers carding gently through the soft strands, smoothing the ruffled feathers. “I was beginning to think I’d never hear your voice again.”

Hermes huffed, his wings twitching but not pulling back. His hands fisted tightly in Tiresias’s robes, and his head wings flickered just slightly. “I-I wasn’t going to,” he muttered, voice muffled against Tiresias’s chest. “I was doing fine until you…until you…” His voice faltered, wings twitching.

Tiresias chuckled. “Until I started showing you off?” they supplied smoothly, their hand smoothing over Hermes' back with gentle reverence. “I couldn’t help myself. You look so beautiful, little bird. I wanted to show the world.”

Hermes groaned, his wings fluttering again, but he didn’t pull away. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he buried his face deeper into Tiresias’s chest. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, voice edged with embarrassment. “You’re absolutely terrible. You can’t just take my clothes off in front of people.”

Tiresias only chuckled, his hand brushing through Hermes' curls once more. “I’m honest,” they replied warmly. “And I think I’ve proven that you can’t resist me, even when you try.”

Hermes huffed, wings fluttering indignantly. “You cheated,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “That was cheating.”

Penelope’s laughter rang out from just a few paces ahead, her eyes sparkling with delight. “Well,” she said, voice smooth and edged with mirth. “I think that’s enough entertainment for one afternoon, don’t you?”

Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head. “I’d say so,” he agreed, voice warm. “But I have to say, that was worth the wait.”

Telemachus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I’m never going to recover from this,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Why does this always happen when I’m around?”

Penelope just laughed, patting his shoulder gently. “Oh, darling, you’re just lucky,” she teased, voice light and warm. “Now, let’s get moving before you’re even more traumatized.”

Hermes finally pulled back from Tiresias’s chest, making sure the robe was closed fully, covering what he could, his cheeks still flushed but his wings fluttering just slightly more at ease. Tiresias kept their hand at his back, steady and warm. “There you are,” they murmured again, voice full of reverence. “My sweet little bird.”

Hermes huffed, his wings twitching. “I hate you,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

Tiresias only smiled. “No, you don’t,” they whispered, voice soft and sure.

“No, I don’t,” Hermes sighed warmly.

Notes:

I'M BACK!!! Last week was crazy for me. Between packing, projects, and exams I barely had time for anything else. But I'm back now and updates will resume normally. At least for this week. I move into my new place on Saturday and then start fall semester classes next Monday. Once those classes start I may have to change to updating twice a week instead of three times, but I'm not sure yet. We'll see how the first few weeks go.

Also, SEE!! I can write fluff…I just don't do it that often. Oh well. The story writes itself and it usually calls for angst. Hope you enjoy it anyways.

I'm so glad to be back to writing and uploading. I hope you guys are still loving the story as I don't think it'll be ending any time soon.

Go take care of yourselves, my lovely readers! Drink water, take a nap, eat food, and if you have to, go take your meds!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 62

Summary:

Okay, trigger warning for this chapter.

This chapter talks about self harm in the form of feather pulling. I will put warnings within the chapter so that the section with this topic is marked so that you can skip it if this would be a triggering topic to you. Please don't read the section if it would trigger you. Take care of yourselves.

I will put a small summary of the aforementioned parts in the end notes for if you choose to skip the sections.

I'm proud of however many days or even hours/minutes you are without. Love y'all and enjoy the chapter.

The walk resumed with a lightness that hadn’t been there before, the tension of Hermes' silence finally shattered. Tiresias’s hand was still looped through Hermes' arm, the god keeping just a touch closer than before, as if reluctant to break the contact. His wings fluttered softly at his ankles, brushing the ground with each step, sending tiny petals scattering along the path.

Penelope shot a playful look over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at the edges of her lips. “I have to say, Hermes,” she began smoothly, “I was almost getting used to the quiet. I thought maybe you’d finally run out of things to say.”

Hermes scoffed, head wings fluttering with indignation. “As if,” he replied, his voice dripping with mock offense. “I was simply resting my voice, Lady Penelope. You know, to spare you from being overwhelmed by my sheer wit and charm.”

Odysseus chuckled, reaching back to pat Hermes firmly on the shoulder. “Wit and charm, huh?” He grinned, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Is that what we call it now? I thought it was more like endless rambling.”

Hermes gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his chest. “Endless rambling? I’m hurt, truly.” He nudged Tiresias with his elbow, leaning in conspiratorially. “They don’t appreciate my gift, Starlight. My poetic musings, my–”

“Droning? Incessant chatter?” Telemachus supplied helpfully from up ahead, his wooden practice sword slung across his back. He didn’t bother to turn around, but Hermes could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Hermes scoffed, wings fluttering indignantly. “You’re all terrible,” he declared, though his voice was light with laughter. He squeezed Tiresias’s arm. “You at least appreciate me, don’t you, Starlight?”

Tiresias’s smile was warm and unyielding, his fingers brushing over Hermes' wrist. “I do,” they replied, voice soft but sure. “I think I might even enjoy the rambling.”

“There, you see?” Hermes declared, triumphant. He shot Odysseus and Penelope a smug grin. “Some people have taste.”

Penelope chuckled, shaking her head. “I think Tiresias might just have an abundance of patience.”

Hermes huffed, but there was no real indignation behind it. His wings fluttered happily, brushing against the grass with every step. “You’re just jealous,” he teased. “I’m endlessly fascinating. It’s a curse, really.”

Odysseus rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around Telemachus as they walked. “A curse indeed,” he agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know how we’ve survived this long without covering our ears.”

Hermes stuck out his tongue, and Tiresias chuckled beside him, their hand never leaving Hermes' elbow. The laughter was soft and warm, and Hermes felt something settle in his chest, something steady and sure.

As they walked, the conversation flowed easily, Hermes flitting between topics with his characteristic energy. He spoke of old stories, of the wildest flights he used to take, of the most daring pranks he’d ever pulled. Tiresias listened with a soft smile, occasionally humming in acknowledgment or chuckling at Hermes' more dramatic retellings.

It wasn’t long before Penelope slowed her pace, falling back beside Hermes with a raised brow. “I missed that voice of yours, Hermes,” she said softly, her voice full of fondness. “You light up the room when you speak.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he ducked his head, cheeks flushing. “I…I guess I just have a lot to say.”

Telemachus, who had been scouting ahead, suddenly waved them over excitedly. “Here it is!” he called, practically bouncing on his heels. “I found this last week. It’s a shortcut through the olive groves! It opens up to the cliffs. There’s the best view of the sea!”

Odysseus chuckled, patting his son on the back. “Lead the way, my boy. Let’s see if this shortcut is all you say it is.”

Telemachus beamed, taking off down the narrow path, his wooden sword bobbing behind him. Hermes laughed, wings fluttering with excitement as he nudged Tiresias forward. “Come on, Starlight,” he whispered, voice bright. “Let’s see where this leads.”

Tiresias chuckled, hand still firmly looped through Hermes' arm. “I’m right behind you, little bird.”

They followed the winding path, the olive branches bending overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The sunlight danced through the leaves, and Hermes found himself talking freely, the words flowing like water. He spoke of old places he’d seen, of the stars he’d flown past, of the rivers he’d followed to their end. And all the while, Tiresias listened, the soft smile never leaving their lips.

Penelope caught Odysseus’s gaze, her eyes shimmering with warmth. “I love this,” she whispered, voice soft. “Seeing him this free. Seeing all of them this free.”

Odysseus nodded, his hand brushing hers gently. “So do I.”

Up ahead, Hermes threw back his head and laughed, wings fluttering joyfully. Tiresias’s hand tightened gently on his arm, a silent reassurance, and Hermes squeezed back without missing a beat in his story.

But as their laughter faded into the breeze, Hermes' steps began to slow, his smile slipping just slightly as he felt the familiar itch in his wings.

It started as a light tickle, the kind that could be ignored if he focused hard enough, but with every step, it grew sharper, the remaining petals, caught in his feathers from his ‘walk’ this morning, were scratching and clinging stubbornly to the delicate quills. Hermes reached down absently, fingers brushing against the soft wings at his ankles, hoping to dislodge the petals without drawing attention. But they wouldn’t budge, and he bit back a huff of frustration.

As Tiresias was pulled into conversation with Odysseus and Penelope, their laughter and voices mingling with the rustling of olive branches, Hermes let his steps lag further behind. His wings fluttered uncomfortably, his head wings giving a twitch as the irritation grew more pronounced. He rubbed at them absentmindedly, biting his lip as the others continued ahead, too caught up in their conversation to notice he’d fallen back. 

Hermes tried to listen, he really did, but every step seemed to bring another petal fluttering into his feathers. He shook his head wings gently, trying to dislodge the stubborn petals clinging to the soft down. A few scattered loose, drifting to the path, but more seemed to nestle deeper, tangling in the finer feathers. He huffed softly, eyes narrowing as he swiped at them with his hands, brushing over his ankle wings next. A few petals fell, but most clung stubbornly, caught on tiny barbs or nestled into the gentle curves.

He bit his lip, glancing up at the others. They were still walking ahead, Telemachus pointing out something to Penelope, his voice bright and enthusiastic. Tiresias walked calmly at Penelope’s side, one hand resting lightly on her elbow, his head tilted slightly as if listening to the breeze.

Hermes looked back down at his wings, brows furrowing. He swiped harder, rubbing his fingers against the feathers, but the petals only shifted, refusing to release. He groaned softly, fingers twitching with frustration. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, he tugged harder, fingers brushing against a particularly stubborn petal.

It didn’t budge.

 

*Accidental self harm written here*

 

Hermes gritted his teeth and yanked.

The petal came free, but so did a feather. He stumbled back a step, blinking down at the small, delicate plume caught between his fingertips. He hadn’t meant to, hadn’t realized it was stuck that tightly. He rubbed his thumb over the downy surface, feeling the softness of it, but there was the faintest smear of red along the end.

His eyes widened, but he swallowed hard and shook his head, brushing it off with a nervous laugh. “It’s just one. It’s just one. I’m not going back.” He whispered to himself, glancing up again. Still, no one had noticed, Penelope and Odysseus were laughing at something Telemachus had said, and Tiresias was smiling in that soft, knowing way of his.

Hermes let out a breath and dusted off his hands. “It’s fine,” he murmured to himself, brushing at his wings again. More petals stuck, stubbornly clinging to the soft feathers. He pulled at them, more careful this time, but one more feather dislodged, light and delicate in his hand. Hermes hissed, blinking down at it. Another thin streak of red, brighter this time.

He swallowed, glancing up at the others again. They were still oblivious, caught up in conversation. His wings fluttered instinctively, and more petals scattered loose, but some remained tangled in the feathers. Hermes gritted his teeth, shaking his wings out harder, sending a flurry of petals to the ground. “Get…out,” he whispered, shaking his head wings with a sharp flick.

A few more petals fluttered loose, but one remained, tangled at the base of a feather. Hermes growled softly, pinching it between his fingers and yanking.

The feather came with it, and this time, it hurt.

Hermes flinched, hissing through his teeth as he dropped the feather to the ground. A thin smear of red marked his fingertips, brighter and wetter than before. He blinked, glancing down at his ankle wings, noticing for the first time the tiny droplets beading along the down. His wings were trembling slightly, the petals still nestled stubbornly between the feathers.

Hermes swallowed hard, glancing up at the others. They were turning a corner, moving out of sight just slightly as the path curved. He took a quick step forward, then hesitated. They were laughing, Tiresias’s voice mingling softly with Penelope’s. Hermes stared after them, his fingers flexing unconsciously. If I call out to him…will he help? The thought curled with doubt, seeping into the spaces between his bones. He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone. “I can handle it. I don’t…I don’t need to bother them.” His wings fluttered again, the petals rustling softly. He tugged at another one, fingers shaking slightly as he pinched it between his fingertips. It pulled free, but so did another feather.

Hermes winced, his breath catching. His wings gave a small tremor, and this time he saw the tiny bead of blood well up from where the feather had been. “Oh,” he breathed, voice trembling. He looked up the path again. The others had disappeared around the corner, their voices faint but still carrying on the breeze.

Hermes swallowed, looking back down at his wings. “It’s fine,” he whispered. “Just a few feathers. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

But the petals wouldn’t leave. No matter how he shook, no matter how he brushed at them, they clung stubbornly, caught in the tiny barbs of his feathers, tangled like little whispers that wouldn’t let him be. Hermes bit his lip, pulling again. Another petal, another feather.

The blood was smeared across his fingertips now, staining the soft down of his wings. Hermes' breath hitched, and he finally stilled, blinking down at his hands. His fingers were slick with red, tiny droplets gathering at the tips, staining the petals that still clung to his feathers. His wings were trembling now, the delicate down ruffled and jagged where feathers had been pulled free.

Hermes swallowed hard, the weight of what he had done finally settling. His wings were bleeding, the tiny spots of red pooling and catching in the soft light. He rubbed his fingers together, watching the way the blood smudged across his skin, his breath coming in short, quick bursts.

 

*End of accidental self harm*

 

He hesitated, glancing up the path. Their voices were softer now, farther away, and the doubt curled back in, slipping beneath his skin like smoke. He won’t help me, Hermes thought, shoulders sagging. Not after I ignored him. Not after I shut them out.

But his wings were bleeding, and he couldn’t shake the petals loose, and it hurt. It hurt in a way he couldn’t ignore anymore. His breath shuddered, and he finally stumbled forward, wings trembling behind him as he picked up his pace, chasing after their distant voices.

When he rounded the corner, Tiresias was there, his head tilted slightly as if listening for him. Hermes slowed to a stop, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Starlight?” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. “I, I need help.”

Tiresias turned, their smile soft and unyielding. His hand reached out instinctively, brushing against Hermes' elbow. “Of course, little bird,” he murmured. “What do you need?”

Hermes hesitated, wings trembling slightly. “I think I messed up my wings.” His voice cracked just slightly. “Can you…Can you help me?” His eyes were bright with something raw, and his hands trembled just slightly at his sides.

Tiresias’s expression softened, their hand brushing gently over Hermes' arm. “Of course,” he whispered, voice unyielding. “I’m right here.”

The world around them seemed to fall away as Tiresias’s gentle hands swept over Hermes' wings, fingertips brushing with practiced precision along the delicate feathers. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent, and yet there was a tension that lingered beneath his hands, a careful attentiveness that spoke of instinctive understanding.

Hermes stood still, his breath caught in his throat, wings fluttering faintly as Tiresias’s fingers moved with deliberate care. It wasn’t until Tiresias’s touch stilled, their fingers brushing over the uneven gaps in the feathers, the sticky residue of blood clinging to the delicate membrane, that he spoke, voice full of gentle concern. “Did you pull your feathers, love?”

The words were soft, so achingly tender that Hermes nearly buckled under the weight of them. His wings gave a faint, shivering flutter, and he swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. “I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “There were petals. I just wanted them out, and I didn’t,” His voice cracked, splintering into a thousand fragile pieces. “I didn’t realize.”

Tiresias’s hands never faltered, his fingers brushing gently over the bloodied gaps with infinite care. “I know, little bird,” he whispered, his voice steady and grounding. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.” Their hands skimmed the edges of Hermes' wings, careful and tender, their fingertips brushing along the remaining feathers.

Hermes shivered under the touch, his wings trembling slightly. “It…It hurts a bit,” he admitted, voice cracking just slightly. His hands twisted in the fabric of Tiresias’s robe, knuckles white with tension.

Tiresias only hummed, his hands slipping down to gently hold Hermes' arm. “Come with me, my love,” he murmured warmly. “Let’s get you sitting down. I’ll help.”

Hermes hesitated for only a moment before nodding, his wings fluttering weakly at his ankles. Tiresias’s grip was firm but gentle as he guided Hermes just a few steps away to a fallen log nestled beneath the shade of an olive tree. With a tenderness that seemed to defy time, Tiresias helped Hermes settle, his hands still brushing gently along his wings.

“Stay still for me, sweetheart,” Tiresias murmured, his voice soft and grounding. His hands moved with practiced precision, fingertips skimming over the delicate feathers, brushing away stray petals, and clearing away the sticky remnants of blood. He worked in slow, careful movements, pausing only to make sure Hermes was comfortable, never rushing, never pressing too hard.

Hermes sat quietly, his breath coming out in soft, uneven waves, his wings fluttering now and then beneath Tiresias’s touch. There was pain, yes, but it was softened by the love in Tiresias’s hands, the gentle way he moved, the unyielding tenderness that threaded through every sweep of his fingertips. Hermes swallowed hard, blinking back the prickle of tears that burned at the edges of his eyes. “You’re…you’re really gentle,” he whispered, voice cracking with unbidden emotion.

Tiresias smiled, his hands never faltering. “Of course,” they murmured. “You’re precious to me.” His fingers brushed along the length of Hermes' ankle wings, feeling the tremor in the delicate feathers, the raw tenderness where petals had tangled and feathers had been pulled. Hermes flinched. Tiresias paused, fingertips hovering just above the edges of a particularly raw patch. “We’ll take it slow,” they whispered, voice warm and grounding. “No rush. I’ve got you.”

Hermes' breath came out in a shaky exhale, and he nodded, his hands curling into the fabric of his borrowed robe. “Okay,” he whispered, voice small but steady. “Okay.”

It was then that they were joined by Penelope, Odysseus, and Telemachus, who approached with soft, careful footsteps, concern etched into their expressions. Penelope stepped forward first, her eyes flickering over Hermes' trembling wings, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. “Oh, Hermes,” she murmured, voice full of warmth and gentle concern. “Are you alright, dear?”

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering faintly. “Y-Yeah,” he replied, voice trembling just slightly. “Just…just a bit of a mess. Hurts a bit, but nothing unbearable.”

Odysseus nodded, his eyes softening with understanding. “Well, you’re in good hands,” he replied, voice warm and sure. His gaze flickered to Tiresias, who was still moving with careful precision, his hands brushing gently over the feathers with infinite care. “I think our prophet has things well under control.”

Telemachus knelt beside Hermes, his eyes wide with concern. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, voice soft and genuine. His gaze flickered over Hermes' wings, taking in the raw patches and the delicate feathers that still trembled with each brush of Tiresias’s hand.

Hermes managed a soft, wavering smile. “Just…stay?” he whispered, voice cracking slightly. “I think I’d like that.” He said, holding a hand out to the boy. Telemachus took it.

Telemachus nodded immediately, his expression softening with determination. “Of course,” he replied, his voice firm and unyielding. He settled beside Hermes, close but not crowding, holding the god’s hand as he watched Tiresias work with steady care.

Penelope and Odysseus settled just a few steps away, giving space but still close enough to watch with soft, steady eyes. The sunlight streamed through the olive branches, casting gentle shadows across the ground as Tiresias continued his slow, deliberate work, his hands never faltering, his voice whispering soft reassurances with every brush of his fingertips.

Hermes’ grip would tighten around Telemachus’s every time Tiresias’s hands brushed over a particularly sensitive spot. The prince just squeezed back, grounding the god.

Hermes sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly under Tiresias’s touch. “You’re really good at this, you know,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent.

Tiresias chuckled, his fingers brushing delicately over the smallest feathers. “I’ve had some practice,” he teased gently. “But I must admit, I’m a little biased. Your wings are…well beautiful. I’ve never felt anything quite like them.”

Hermes flushed, his wings giving a soft, unconscious flutter. “You don’t mind doing this?” he asked, his voice cracking just slightly. “I-I know it’s a lot. And my fault on top of that.” His voice quieted on the last part. Telemachus just squeezed his hand, comforting him, not saying anything.

Tiresias’s hands paused for just a moment before resuming their gentle work. “Never,” he whispered, voice full of warmth. “Never too much. Your fault or not, they’re still something I’ll care for.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings fluttering once more before settling back into stillness. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

They sat in companionable silence for a few more moments, Tiresias’s hands working with unyielding grace. His fingers skimmed delicately over the feathers, smoothing them back into place and plucking away petals. 

Telemachus had begun another story, distracting Hermes from the tenderness of his wings. Odysseus and Penelope listened with interest, eyes flicking over to Hermes and Tiresias every now and then.

But then, as Tiresias’s fingers brushed along the membrane of Hermes' left head wing, he stilled. Telemachus paused his story, sensing the shift in the air.

Hermes stiffened, knowing exactly what Tiresias had found. He pulled his hand out of Telemachus’s and tried to move away, but Tiresias set a gentle hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Hermes’ gaze flicked up to Tiresias’s expression fearfully, expecting judgment or worse, disgust, but the prophet’s face remained calm, unreadable. Then their hand, gentle and unyielding, swept back over the same spot, fingertips brushing along a series of thin, raised lines that trailed along the membrane, barely noticeable unless one were searching for them.

Tiresias’s expression remained serene, but his voice softened, dropping to a whisper. “Hermes,” he began, his thumb brushing gently over one of the thin scars, the movement tender and deliberate. “What are these?”

Hermes' breath stuttered, his wings fluttering just slightly before stilling again. He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Oh,” he whispered, voice fragile and brittle. “That…that’s just,” he hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of Tiresias’s robe draped around him. “That’s nothing.”

Tiresias’s hand remained steady, his touch soft and grounding. “It doesn’t feel like nothing,” he murmured, their voice warm and patient. “You can tell me, little bird. I’m right here.”

Hermes took a shaky breath, his wings trembling beneath Tiresias’s gentle touch. “I…when I was younger, I used to…well, I used to pull them sometimes.” His voice cracked, just slightly, the words stumbling out unbidden. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t all the time. Just when things got…when things got bad.”

Penelope’s gentle voice drifted in from behind, soft and filled with concern. “Oh dear, that must have hurt,” she murmured, her gaze flickering with tenderness and sorrow.

Hermes' shoulders stiffened, and he offered her a small, brittle smile. “Not as much as other things,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. His hands flexed slightly in his lap, his wings fluttering weakly. “It was something I could control. I couldn’t control Zeus. I couldn’t control danger, couldn’t control anything else. But that,” His fingers brushed over the edge of his head wings, the touch delicate and trembling, before dropping back to his lap. “Pulling them, I could.”

The silence stretched, heavy and tender, settling over them like a warm blanket. Tiresias’s hand remained steady, brushing soft, grounding paths over the feathers, his expression patient and unyielding. His fingertips continued to trace the edges of the scars, but his touch was careful.

Hermes swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Polly was the only one that knew,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “He found me once.”

Tiresias stilled, his hand pausing just slightly on Hermes' wing. His voice, when it came, was barely a breath. “He found you?”

Hermes nodded, his wings giving a soft, broken flutter. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice fragile and aching. “He found me.” Hermes closed his eyes and remembered.

 

*Self harm in the following flashback*

 

~~~~ Flashback ~~~~ 

It had been a few days since Athena and Ares had left. A few days since Hermes had begged them not to go. The whole thing hadn’t felt right. But the gods of war and wisdom had insisted they had to go, had to help.

Hermes found himself in the gardens, wandering to a quiet nook that few knew of. It was hidden behind a thicket of tall olive trees and drooping willows, the path winding so tightly that most would get lost before finding the small clearing. He rounded the final corner and collapsed, curling up among the wildflowers that Aphrodite and Persephone had lovingly grown. Soft sobs racked through him, muffled by the thick blanket of petals.

“Thena, Res, where are you?” he murmured to the empty air. His voice was small, breaking on the edges. He had no messages, no deliveries, nothing to take his mind off his missing siblings. He’d flown everywhere, searching for them, across the fields of Elysium, the peaks of Olympus, even the shadowed edges of Tartarus, all throughout the mortal realm, but he couldn’t find them. Couldn’t sense them. He’d always been able to feel them, a gentle tug in his bones, a small connection to his siblings. But now? Now there was nothing.

His fingers reached up, almost unconsciously, gently running along one of his head wings. He could feel the tension there, tight and heavy, aching with each flutter of worry. And then, he pulled. A feather came loose, soft and delicate, fluttering to the ground like a dying petal. He watched it fall, his breath catching. The sting was sharp was a comfort, one he had felt many times before. His mind drifted away from his siblings as he pulled another feather, grounding himself in the pain. It was tangible. Real. Something he could control.

Another feather, and another, moving to the other head wing, feeling his fingers grow sticky with ichor. The sting was sharper here, but he pulled anyway, the sensation both sharp and grounding. His breath hitched as he stared at the scattered feathers around him, white against the vivid petals. They looked like fallen stars.

His hands lowered, grasping around the delicate feathers on his ankle wings, and he tugged there too. The small wings twitched, shivering with the ache, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Hermes?”

The messenger froze, eyes darting fearfully up. “Hermes, are you out here somewhere? I…I heard crying.” Apollo’s voice carried through the garden, soft and uncertain, tinged with worry.

Hermes panicked, his hands gripping his feathers more tightly, accidentally tugging this time. Four more came loose at once, and he couldn’t stop the cry of pain that left his lips. Footsteps followed, turned in his direction, swift and heavy, growing closer to where Hermes trembled.

Apollo rounded the corner and froze. His eyes swept over the scene, wide with shock. Hermes, tears running down his cheeks, stared back fearfully. Feathers littered the ground around him like snow, and the god’s wings were sticky with ichor.

“Oh, gods, Herms.” Apollo’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes locked onto the blood-stained feathers. “What…what happened?”

Hermes flinched, his wings trembling beneath the gaze. “P-Polly, what are you doing here?” Hermes whispered, voice cracking on his brother’s name. Apollo stepped forward, but Hermes instinctively shrank back, hands reaching to shield his wings.

“I heard you crying,” Apollo said softly, his voice tight with something raw and fragile. He knelt down, one knee pressing into the flower-strewn grass. “I didn’t know…” He trailed off, eyes flickering between the feathers on the ground and Hermes' trembling wings.

Hermes' hands fisted tighter around the delicate feathers, his shoulders curling inward. “Go away, Polly. I’m fine.” His voice wavered, brittle and unconvincing. He turned his back on his brother, wings trying to curl around him, trying to shield him from the pain he was causing himself. 

Apollo sighed and moved again, wrapping his arms around Hermes from behind, pulling the messenger into his chest with a kind of tenderness that broke Hermes all over again.

“You know I can’t do that, Hermie,” Apollo murmured, his voice soft but unyielding. His arms stayed steady, holding Hermes like he might shatter if released. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Hermes stiffened in his brother’s arms, hands still fisted in his own feathers. “I’m…I’m just scared,” he whispered, the confession slipping out before he could swallow it back down. “They’re still gone.” His voice cracked, barely more than a breath, and his wings gave a soft, pitiful flutter.

Apollo’s hands shifted, coming up to rest gently on Hermes' head wings, just above where the feathers had been plucked. “Oh, Herms,” Apollo murmured, his fingers brushing tenderly over the feathers that remained. “I know you’re scared. We all are. But…you can’t…you can’t go pulling your own feathers, though.”

“Says who?” Hermes shot back, voice sharper than intended. “I’ve done it before.”

He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Apollo’s hands stilled, and his face hardened, eyes narrowing with sudden, sharp understanding and Hermes shrank. “You have?” His voice was low. “How often? How often do you do this, Hermes?”

Hermes shuddered, his wings quivering under Apollo’s hands. “Too often,” he whispered, the confession slipping out before he could stop it. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned back into his brother’s hold, the tension bleeding from his frame. “I don’t know how else to make it stop hurting. Not when I can’t do anything.”

Apollo’s expression softened, his hands brushing once more over Hermes' wings, this time with infinite care. “Okay,” he murmured, voice a thread of sound. 

“Okay?” Hermes whispered. He’d expected anger, disgust, pity, not kindness. Not care.

Apollo hummed softly, just a soothing melody that vibrated softly from his chest into Hermes’ ear. “Yeah, okay. It’s…I mean it’s not okay, but it will be.” He pulled his brother closer, wrapping him up in his arms. “You just…you can’t do this anymore though. Okay? You…you come find me, okay? Don’t hurt yourself like this. Come find me, Little Wing. I’m always here.”

Hermes sniffled, his hands loosening from where they’d been fisted in his wings. He burrowed deeper into Apollo’s embrace, his breath coming in soft, unsteady waves. “Okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I…I’ll try.”

Apollo’s arms tightened, his hand brushing over Hermes' wings one last time, soothing the ruffled feathers. “Good,” he murmured, his voice soft and reverent. “That’s all I ask.”

~~~~ End Flashback ~~~~

 

*End self harm*

 

The memory lingered like the echo of a song, soft and distant, before finally slipping back into the depths of Hermes' mind. He blinked, his breath catching just slightly as the present washed over him, sunlight filtering through the canopy above, the soft sounds of the breeze whispering through olive branches. He was still nestled in Tiresias's steady hold, the prophet's hands gently preening the feathers along his wings, their touch careful and reverent.

Tiresias's fingers paused, their hand still soothing gently over one of the scars along the delicate membrane. Hermes swallowed, wings twitching just slightly beneath Tiresias’s hold.

“That was Apollo, wasn’t it?” Tiresias asked softly, their voice full of warmth and understanding.

Hermes nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “He…he found me. Made me promise to find him instead of…instead of hurting my wings.” His fingers flexed in his lap, and he blinked rapidly, as if warding off lingering traces of the memory. “I tried, I really did. He made it easier.” His wings fluttered softly, petals drifting around them. “Polly always made things easier. Even when I broke, he’d find me. He’d hold me. It felt like things were okay, or better, at least.”

Tiresias’s hand resumed its gentle brushing, fingers smoothing carefully over the feathers, lingering over the scars with infinite tenderness. “He loves you very much,” they murmured, voice full of reverence. “I can feel it in every word you speak of him.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, a weak, trembling laugh slipping from his lips. “I know,” he whispered, his wings giving a faint, unconscious flutter. “And I love him. I always have.” His gaze dropped to his lap, fingers brushing absently over the soft fabric of Tiresias’s robe. “But I…It’s hard, sometimes. To think of him back there. And I’m here.” His wings trembled just slightly beneath Tiresias’s hands, feathers ruffling.

Tiresias’s hands stilled, and they leaned in just slightly, their forehead brushing gently against Hermes'. “He’ll be back soon,” they murmured, voice full of warmth. “And you’ll tell him how strong you’ve become. How much you’ve healed.” Their fingers brushed softly over Hermes' wings, steady and grounding. “He’ll be proud of you, little bird. I know he will.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into the touch, the gentle preening that continued with unwavering tenderness. “Do you think so?” he asked softly, voice trembling just slightly. “Do you really think so?”

Tiresias smiled, his hands brushing gently over the soft feathers. “I know so,” they whispered, their voice a gentle hum. “You’ve come so far, little bird. You’re stronger than you realize.”

Hermes' wings fluttered, and he shuddered out a breath, leaning further into Tiresias’s hands, allowing himself to be held, to be cared for. The soft whispers of wind and the distant chatter of Penelope, Odysseus, and Telemachus surrounded them, a quiet reminder that he was not alone. Not anymore.

Penelope’s voice drifted over, soft and warm. “How are we doing over here?” she asked, her footsteps soft as she approached. Odysseus and Telemachus followed, their expressions kind and patient.

Tiresias did not stop the gentle preening, his hands smoothing over Hermes' wings with infinite care. “We’re almost done,” they replied, voice full of warmth. “Just a little more, and Hermes will be back to his beautiful self.”

Hermes huffed, his cheeks flushing. “I don’t know if I’d call it beautiful right now,” he murmured, wings fluttering slightly.

Odysseus chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. “I think you look just fine, Hermes,” he commented, voice teasing, but soft. “Maybe a little ruffled, but I’d say you wear it well.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but the smile that spread across his lips was undeniable. “Thanks,” he replied softly, his voice steadying. “I guess I’ve had worse days.”

Tiresias’s hands brushed over the last of the feathers, smoothing them down with a final touch of care. They leaned in, their breath warm against Hermes' ear. “There we are, little bird,” they murmured, voice full of reverence. “All better.”

Hermes swallowed, blinking back the sting of tears, and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered. “All better.”

Notes:

Okay, so, while this was such a heavy chapter, its still one of my favorites. For those of you who skipped the sections, here are the summries.

In the first section, Hermes accidentally pulls a few feathers from his wings trying to get petals that got there from his 'walk' this morning. He then asks Tiresias for help instead. Leading to Tiresias finding old scars from where he pulled them before.

In the second section, its a flashback to Hermes and Apollo. Athena and Ares disappeared and Hermes was very worried for them. He tried searching, but couldn't find them. Due to this worry, he pulls his feathers, only for Apollo to find him like that. And when Hermes confesses that this isn't the first time it has happened, Apollo has Hermes promise that he'll go to him in the future instead of pulling again.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if it was rather heavy. Now, go take care of yourselves. Drink water, take a nap, eat food, and if you have to, go take your meds!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 63

Summary:

Guys…this is literally just fluff. There are hints - crumbs, more like - of angst if you search hard enough, but in reality, its just fluff.

Enjoy!!

The cliffs stretched out before them, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the rolling waves below. A gentle breeze whispered through the olive trees, carrying with it the scent of sea salt and wild thyme. Penelope had laid out a soft blanket, its edges weighted down with smooth stones, and arranged an assortment of food across its surface: fresh bread, olives, figs, and a jug of cool, sweet wine.

Hermes settled down with a sigh, stretching his legs out and wiggling his toes against the soft fabric. His wings fluttered at his ankles, scattering a few stray petals before settling again. He sat between Tiresias and Odysseus, the former reaching out with practiced grace to pass him a cup of water, their fingers brushing gently as Hermes accepted it with a smile.

Telemachus, seated across from them, was already launching into a story, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Penelope listened with a soft smile, occasionally reaching out to smooth back his hair or adjust the collar of his tunic. Odysseus chuckled along, his voice interjecting now and then with his own commentary or a playful jab that made Telemachus laugh louder.

Hermes leaned back, letting the conversation and the soft sounds of laughter wash over him. His eyes drifted to the horizon, where the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of amber and rose. It was peaceful; so impossibly peaceful. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this sort of calm, the kind that settled deep in his bones and made him want to curl up and just exist.

The gentle hum of conversation continued, Tiresias’s hand occasionally brushing his elbow, grounding him. Hermes sipped at his water, letting the coolness spread through him, his wings fluttering every now and then when the breeze caught them.

Telemachus’s voice grew louder as his story reached its crescendo, and Hermes found himself grinning, his eyes half-lidded with contentment. He leaned back just a little further, his shoulder brushing Odysseus’s, and yawned quietly.

Odysseus’s voice drifted over, deep and steady. “Long day?” he asked, his tone gentle.

Hermes blinked, glancing up with a soft smile. “I guess so,” he murmured. “Didn’t realize how tired I was.”

Odysseus chuckled, his hand coming to rest comfortably on Hermes' shoulder. “Well, you’ve certainly been busy,” he replied, voice warm. “I suppose even chaos gods like you need rest sometimes.”

Hermes' eyes fluttered, his wings giving a soft, slow flutter as the warmth of the setting sun settled over him. “Yeah, chaos can only sustain a being for so long,” he whispered, his voice growing softer. “And now that I’m not a god, I need to rest daily or something.” He shrugged, shooting a glance at Tiresias. “Sounds silly to me.” He teased. Tiresias huffed and flicked his arm gently pulling a soft laugh out of Hermes followed by another yawn.

Without really thinking, Hermes' head dipped, his cheek coming to rest against Odysseus’s shoulder. His eyes drifted closed, the weight of the day and the comfort of their company pulling him down into the soft edges of sleep.

Odysseus stilled for a moment, glancing down at the god nestled against him. His gaze softened, and without a second thought, he shifted slightly, his arm wrapping around Hermes' shoulders, pulling him gently into his side. Hermes didn’t stir; if anything, he relaxed further, his wings fluttering softly against his ankles.

Telemachus continued his story, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. Penelope chuckled softly, and Tiresias smiled happily, turning their head just slightly toward the sound of Hermes' soft, even breathing.

Odysseus, for his part, did not miss a beat. His hand rubbed gently along Hermes' back, his thumb brushing soothing circles over his shoulder as he leaned forward, still listening intently to Telemachus’s tale. If anything, he seemed even more at ease, his expression softening happily.

Penelope caught his eye, her smile gentle and knowing. She didn’t say anything, only leaned back on her hands and watched the sunset, her gaze occasionally flickering back to the way Hermes curled closer, his wings fluttering now and then in soft, sleepy flutters.

Telemachus, oblivious to the added softness of the scene, continued his story, voice growing louder and more animated as he recounted the thrilling parts. Hermes only stirred once, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he burrowed further against Odysseus’s shoulder.

And Odysseus simply held him, his hand still brushing those slow, steady circles, his gaze locked on his son’s storytelling, utterly content to be right where he was, protecting those he loved.

Telemachus's story grew more animated as the sun dipped lower over the horizon, his hands continued waving in wild gestures, voice rising and falling with each dramatic embellishment. His audience listened with warm smiles, Penelope’s hands folded in her lap, Odysseus’s arm wrapped securely around Hermes, and Tiresias leaning slightly forward, his head tilted just enough to catch the rhythm of the young prince's voice.

But Telemachus, for all his energy, began to falter. His movements slowed, his words softened, and without warning, he flopped unceremoniously against his mother’s side, his cheek pressing into the fabric of her dress. He didn’t stop his story, not at first. His voice continued, more a murmur now, as Penelope’s hand instinctively came up to brush through his hair.

“Go on, sweetling,” she encouraged, her fingers moving in gentle, rhythmic strokes. Telemachus sighed, his eyes slipping shut even as his lips continued to move, though the words were too soft to hear.

Penelope’s smile was serene, her hand moving with practiced ease, brushing back unruly curls and smoothing through the strands like she’d done since he was small. His breathing evened out, his words fading entirely as his head nestled more comfortably into her lap. The lull in the conversation stretched soft and peaceful, the only sounds the distant waves crashing against the cliffs and the whisper of leaves in the breeze.

It was Tiresias who spoke first, his voice soft and reverent. “Has he fallen asleep?” They asked, their head turning just slightly toward the sound of Telemachus’s even breaths.

Penelope’s smile grew, and she looked down at her son with infinite tenderness. “Yes,” she murmured. “He always does this.” Her hand continued its gentle path, smoothing over his hair. “Even when he was small, he would talk until he could no longer keep his eyes open. I think he just loves the sound of his own voice.” Her chuckle was light and fond, brushing back another curl. “Or maybe he just loves knowing someone is listening.”

Odysseus’s gaze drifted from his wife to his son and finally to the god nestled at his side. Hermes' head rested comfortably against his shoulder, wings fluttering softly at his ankles. He looked peaceful, his breath coming in slow, steady waves, and Odysseus’s arm held him firm, fingers brushing in slow, unconscious circles over his shoulder.

Penelope’s eyes flickered up to meet his, and her smile softened, something deep and unspoken passing between them. “I think the gods have given you a gift, Odysseus,” she said gently, her voice a whisper on the evening breeze. “You may not have been able to be a father while Telemachus grew up.” Her eyes drifted back to the prince, who was now snoring softly against her lap. “But look at you now.”

Odysseus blinked, his gaze dropping to the god curled up beside him, small wings fluttering slightly as he slept. Hermes mumbled something unintelligible, his head nudging deeper against Odysseus’s shoulder, utterly content. “I…” Odysseus’s voice faltered, raw and unsteady. “I never imagined this.”

Penelope’s smile grew, her hand still brushing through Telemachus’s hair. “But it’s true,” she continued, her eyes bright with affection. “Not just Telemachus.” She gestured gently with her chin. “Look at Hermes. The way he leans into you. The way you hold him without even thinking.”

Odysseus’s gaze dropped back to Hermes, and his grip instinctively tightened, holding the god just a bit closer. His voice was soft when he spoke. “He’s…he’s just so young. So much younger than I would have thought.” His hand smoothed gently over Hermes' back, the god stirring just slightly before settling again. “I don’t even think he realizes it sometimes. He’s lived so long and still,” He trailed off, shaking his head. “He’s just a boy.”

Penelope’s eyes shimmered with warmth. “And then there’s Athena,” she added, her voice full of reverence. “And Apollo.” Her eyes softened. “They’re not your blood, but you love them like they are. You protect them like they are.”

Odysseus swallowed, his voice unsteady. “I just want them safe,” he murmured. “All of them.”

Penelope reached out, her hand brushing gently over his arm, grounding him. “You’ve been given a family,” she whispered, voice soft and sure. “Not the one you expected, but one that’s yours all the same.”

Odysseus’s eyes met hers, and she smiled, her gaze flickering over to Tiresias. “And of course,” she added, her voice softening further. “You.”

Tiresias’s head tilted just slightly, their lips curving into a small smile. “I’m honored,” they murmured, voice holding nothing but warmth and sincerity. “Truly.”

Penelope’s smile grew, her hand still smoothing through Telemachus’s hair. “We are, too,” she replied gently. “All of us. To have you here.” Her eyes flickered back to Odysseus, her gaze soft and unyielding. “We are so very lucky.”

Odysseus swallowed hard, his grip tightening ever so slightly around Hermes, his eyes flickering to his wife and son and the prophet who had become such a steady presence in their lives. He nodded, voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” he whispered, his gaze drifting back to the god in his arms. “We are.”

Penelope glanced down at Telemachus, who was still fast asleep in her lap, his breathing slow and steady, his fingers loosely curled against her dress. “We should get back. These two need their beds.” She murmured.

With a practiced ease born of years of motherhood, she slid her arms beneath him, lifting him effortlessly into her embrace. His head lolled comfortably against her shoulder, and she adjusted him carefully, her hand instinctively brushing through his hair, smoothing the curls away from his face. He murmured something in his sleep, nestling closer to her warmth.

Tiresias shifted slightly, their head turning toward Hermes, who still lay nestled against Odysseus’s side, his breaths coming out in soft, steady puffs. “Would you like me to carry him?” Tiresias offered gently. “I don’t mind.”

Odysseus looked down at Hermes, the god’s head resting comfortably against his shoulder, wings fluttering ever so slightly in sleep. For a moment, he hesitated, his hand brushing over the god’s back in slow, even strokes. Then, with a soft smile, he shook his head. “Actually,” he began, voice gentle but firm. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to hold him a bit longer.” His gaze softened, and he glanced up at Tiresias. “Besides,” he continued, his tone light but sincere, “this path is unfamiliar to you. I’m sure it’d be easier and more comfortable for you to just focus on yourself.”

Tiresias tilted their head slightly, a faint flicker of unease passed over their features; subtle, almost imperceptible, but there. “Oh,” he murmured.

Odysseus caught it, his grip on Hermes instinctively tightening, his voice dropping to something softer, more reassuring. “He won’t be far,” Odysseus promised, his eyes steady and sure. “I’ve got him.” Tiresias’s hands still reached out, hesitant to leave the god.

“He’s just…He’s always with me.” They said. Odysseus’s face softened.

“He’s safe with me. He’ll be right next to you.”

Tiresias paused, his expression unreadable for a long moment before his shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away like fog in the morning sun. “I know,” they murmured, voice sincere. “I know he is.”

Odysseus’s grip on Hermes remained steady, his large hands cradling the god’s slight form with a tenderness that belied his warrior’s strength. He shifted slightly, adjusting Hermes so that the god’s head rested more comfortably against his shoulder, the feathered wings at his temples fluttering faintly with each deep breath.

Odysseus stood, cradling Hermes against his chest with tenderness. He held the god with infinite care, ensuring that his wings remained unbent and his head remained nestled comfortably against his shoulder. Hermes stirred slightly, but when Odysseus’s hand came up to brush through his hair, the god settled once more, his breath even and slow.

“There we go,” Odysseus murmured softly, voice full of a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d missed. His other arm tightened just slightly, drawing Hermes closer against his chest, his hands supporting the god’s back and the delicate wings at his ankles. Hermes settled with a soft sigh, his breath puffing gently against Odysseus’s tunic, and for a moment, the king simply held him, letting the silence stretch between them.

Behind him, Tiresias listened, their hands folded neatly, head tilted just slightly as if trying to memorize the soft sounds of Hermes' breathing. Penelope’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Odysseus is right,” she murmured, her tone soft with sincerity. “Hermes is safe with him. And with you. I promise.”

“Come,” she said warmly, her voice smooth and inviting. “Take my arm. Besides…I think Odysseus needs this.” She said softly, nodding toward her husband, who still held Hermes as if he were something fragile and precious. “He’s always loved his family. Having Hermes as part of that it’s new. And I think he just needs to hold him.”

Tiresias hesitated, their expression softening as they reached out, their hand slipping into the crook of her arm with practiced grace. “Thank you,” they murmured, voice soft.

Penelope hummed softly, a gentle warmth lighting up her expression. “I know how much you love running your hands through Hermes' hair,” she mused, her hand adjusting Telemachus slightly as he snuggled deeper into her hold. “Telemachus loves it too, you know.” She guided Tiresias’s hand forward gently, letting their fingers brush through her son’s curls, slow and deliberate. “It always calms him.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, their hand moving gently, fingertips brushing through Telemachus’s soft curls with infinite care. The young prince murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, nuzzling closer to his mother’s shoulder. Tiresias smiled. “I see what you mean,” they murmured, voice full of warmth. “He’s just like him.”

Penelope’s smile grew, her gaze flickering back to Odysseus and Hermes. The god remained nestled in the king’s hold, wings fluttering faintly, his breath coming out in soft, even waves. Odysseus held him close, his grip secure and steady, as though the messenger god had always belonged there.

Odysseus’s gaze met Penelope’s, and she gave him a knowing smile, a subtle nod of approval that he returned with a grateful tilt of his head. “Take your time,” she whispered, her voice carrying just enough for him to hear. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Odysseus nodded, his hand smoothing over Hermes' back with infinite care, his gaze flickering back to the path ahead. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Penelope just smiled, Tiresias’s hand brushing back a stray curl from Telemachus’s forehead. “It’s what families do.”

Together, they began the slow walk back to the palace, the evening sun casting long shadows on the path ahead. Penelope and Tiresias walked side by side, Tiresias’s hand still brushing through Telemachus’s curls, the young prince sighing contentedly against his mother’s shoulder. And just ahead, Odysseus cradled Hermes with a kind of care that spoke of love and family, his arm firm and unyielding around the god’s shoulders, holding him close, protecting him.

The evening air was gentle, curling softly through the trees as Penelope and Tiresias walked at a steady pace, Telemachus still resting comfortably in Penelope’s arms. The prince’s head lolled against her shoulder, and she hummed softly under her breath, her footsteps sure and light on the familiar path. Tiresias kept a steady hold on her arm, his hand resting gently against the crook of her elbow, his fingers brushing Telemachus’s hair absently, threading through the soft curls.

A peaceful silence settled between them for a time, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds settling in for the night. Tiresias’s hand continued its gentle path through Telemachus’s curls, smoothing them back with care. His fingers moved with the same precision he used on Hermes' wings, delicate and precise, as if afraid of disrupting the strands.

After a while, Tiresias spoke, his voice soft and low, almost like a murmur of the wind. “You know, Telemachus, he’s a lot like Hermes, you know.”

Penelope’s steps faltered for just a moment before she continued. “Is he?” she asked, her voice gentle and edged with curiosity.

Tiresias nodded, his fingers brushing absently through Telemachus’s hair. “He loves stories,” Tiresias began, a small smile curling at his lips. “He breathes life into them the same way Hermes does. There’s a kind of fire in him, this spark of adventure and curiosity that I recognize. And this,” He gave the prince’s curls a gentle ruffle, eliciting the faintest of sighs from the sleeping boy. “This love for touch. For grounding. It’s so very much like Hermes. They could be brothers.”

Penelope’s gaze softened, and she glanced forward to where Odysseus walked steadily, Hermes cradled in his arms, head tucked beneath the king’s chin. Hermes' wings, small and delicate, fluttered faintly as if dreaming. Odysseus held him with the kind of protective instinct that she had only seen him use with Telemachus.

Her lips curled into a tender smile. “I think,” she murmured, her voice softening to a whisper, “that they already are.”

Tiresias tilted his head, their expression thoughtful. “Perhaps so.” His hand moved gently through Telemachus’s hair once more, finding the strands and smoothing them down. “Hermes…he’s never really been allowed this. Family. Safety. You should have seen him the first time he realized Ithaca was a home for him.”

Penelope’s gaze flickered back to her husband and the messenger god in his arms. Odysseus’s hands were steady, holding Hermes with practiced ease. The god’s wings twitched slightly, and Odysseus adjusted his grip without pause, like it was instinct.

“He’s a good father,” Penelope murmured, her voice filled with a kind of soft wonder. “He didn’t get the chance before. Not properly.” Her eyes softened. “But look at him now. I think he’s making up for lost time.”

Tiresias hummed in agreement, their thumb brushing gently over Telemachus’s temple. “And Hermes is learning to trust it,” he added quietly. “It’s not easy for him. Trust. Letting someone hold him like that. He practically broke himself for the sake of Olympus, for the sake of his father’s approval and was cast aside. Letting himself trust family again? It takes more courage than most realize.”

Penelope’s hand drifted down to rest gently on Tiresias’s arm, her touch warm and grounding. “You’re part of that,” she said softly. “You’ve been his tether. His safe place.” Her smile grew. “You’ve done more for him than you realize.”

Tiresias’s fingers stilled for a moment in Telemachus’s hair, and a small, tender smile spread across his lips. “I only want him to feel loved,” they replied quietly. “Truly loved.”

Penelope’s hand squeezed his arm gently. “He does,” she promised. “You can see it in his eyes. And,” she glanced ahead again, her gaze softening as she watched her husband cradle Hermes so gently, “you can see it in his wings. They’ve started fluttering more.”

Tiresias let out a soft, reverent breath. “They have, haven’t they?” His voice was a whisper of wonder, as if he were afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of it.

Penelope smiled warmly. “They have. And I think, for him, that’s his way of saying he’s home.”

As Odysseus carried Hermes in his arms, the messenger curled against his chest with a quiet, almost fragile stillness. His wings, small and delicate at his ankles and head, fluttered faintly in his sleep, a gentle reminder of his nature. But his breathing was soft, even, and his face held none of the tension that Odysseus had once seen etched into every line of it.

The first time Odysseus had seen Hermes after his fall, the god had been wiry with restlessness, his eyes darting to every shadow, every flicker of movement, as if waiting for a blow to strike. His wings had twitched with unspent energy, and his voice had been thinner than Odysseus remembered, cracking in places that seemed unfamiliar to the once-mighty, playful god. Back then, Hermes couldn’t sit still; he paced the palace halls, drifted from room to room, always searching for something unseen.

But now the young god rested. He trusted enough to sleep, his breath warm against Odysseus's shoulder, his hands curled loosely against the king's tunic. There was something so tender about it, something that pulled at the deepest part of Odysseus’s heart, the part that had gone without holding his own son for twenty years.

Telemachus had been just a babe when Odysseus left. Barely more than a wisp of hair and wide, curious eyes that searched for his father long after he had disappeared from Ithaca's shores. Odysseus had missed it all: the first steps, the first words, the little moments that fathers are supposed to be there for. He'd only seen his son grown, wielding a sword and standing tall, forced to grow up without him.

And yet, there was Hermes. A god, yes, but still young in so many ways. Who, despite his age and immortality, had been hurt and lost and left to find his own way. Odysseus's arms tightened just slightly around him, careful not to wake him but firm enough to offer the promise of security. He glanced down at the sleeping god, taking in the relaxed set of his jaw, the soft flutter of his head wings as they adjusted in his sleep.

Hermes was family. He had been family long before Odysseus had even known it, woven into Ithaca’s bloodline through Odysseus’s own grandfather. But now it was different. Now, it was more than just blood. It was a choice.

Odysseus’s hand came up, gently smoothing over the tangled curls at Hermes' crown, his fingers brushing just slightly against the soft wings that sprouted from above his ears. Hermes didn’t stir, only pressed closer, his breath hitching once before evening out again.

The king's gaze flickered forward, watching Penelope and Tiresias walking arm in arm, Telemachus still cradled against his mother’s shoulder, his legs dangling but secure. Tiresias’s fingers played gently through the prince’s hair, smoothing it back with practiced tenderness, and Penelope whispered something soft to Tiresias, the prophet nodding with a smile.

A soft smile pulled at Odysseus's lips. They were all here, together. Whole. And gods, it was more than he had ever thought to ask for. His hand smoothed over Hermes' hair again, thumb brushing just slightly against his temple. The god’s head tilted just slightly, nestling closer, and Odysseus’s heart clenched with something fragile and raw.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “You’re home.”

Odysseus’s steps began to slow, coming to a halt. Tiresias’s head lifted slightly, his grip on Penelope’s arm tightening. “Is something wrong?” they asked, voice gentle but edged with concern. “Is Hermes alright? Are you?”

Odysseus paused, turning just enough to cast a glance back at them. His expression was softened, eyes gleaming with something raw and unspoken. “I’m fine,” he murmured, his gaze drifting back down to Hermes, whose wings fluttered softly against his side. “I just…wanted to walk with all of you.” His voice cracked just slightly, the emotion threading through unbidden. “Our whole family.”

Penelope’s gaze softened, her hand coming up to brush against Tiresias’s arm reassuringly. “We’re here, my love,” she murmured, her voice smooth and comforting. “All of us.”

They fell into step beside him, moving together in a gentle rhythm, the path stretching wide enough to allow them to walk shoulder to shoulder. Tiresias’s hand remained lightly on Penelope’s arm, and his free hand reached out, brushing just slightly against Odysseus’s shoulder in a gesture of unspoken solidarity.

For a long moment, they walked in silence, the only sounds the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the distant whisper of the sea. It wasn’t until the trees thinned out just slightly, revealing the glittering horizon, that Odysseus spoke again, his voice low and edged with grief. “I missed so much,” he murmured, gaze locked ahead. “Twenty years…Telemachus’s whole life. I should have been there.”

Penelope’s grip on Telemachus tightened, and she glanced over at her husband, eyes shimmering with understanding. “He never blamed you,” she said gently. “Not once. He grew up hearing your stories, knowing how hard you were fighting to get back to us. Not once did he think it was your fault.”

Odysseus swallowed hard, his gaze drifting down to Telemachus’s peaceful face, nestled against Penelope’s shoulder. His jaw clenched, and he nodded slowly. “I know,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “But it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could have been here. From the very beginning.”

Penelope’s gaze softened, and she leaned in just slightly, her shoulder brushing against his. “You’re here now,” she whispered. “That’s what he cares about.”

Odysseus took a breath, steadying himself, and his gaze drifted down to Hermes, still curled peacefully against his chest. His voice softened, eyes shining with something tender and fragile. “I met Hermes on my journey, you know. Twice.” His hand brushed softly over the god’s head wings, smoothing them down with infinite care. “He was bright. Spirited. Like a wildfire that couldn’t be contained. But when he first came to Ithaca after his fall…” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen a flame that small.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched softly, remembering how broken the god had been. “He was determined to hide it from me, his pain,” The prophet began, remembering what Hermes had said to them. 

Don’t think less of me. I’m as ashamed of them as you are. 

“He thought I would be ashamed of him. That I would think less of him since he was no longer a god.” Tiresias confessed. He felt Penelope stiffen slightly.

“Oh, Hermes,” she whispered.

“He was so defensive with us those first few days, Penny. Remember?” Odysseus said, receiving a nod. “He always wore a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.” Odysseus glanced down at the god, comfortably resting in his arms. “I’m happy to see him like this,” Odysseus continued, his voice thick with emotion. “Resting. Safe. Content. It’s…it’s everything I wished for when I saw him that first time. I never wanted to see him like that again.”

Penelope nodded, her gaze flickering to Hermes, whose wings fluttered just slightly in his sleep. “He’s happy,” she whispered. “You can see it.”

Tiresias’s head tilted just slightly, their voice soft. “Family means everything to Hermes,” they murmured. “He never got it, not really. Not on Olympus. There were moments, flickers of it, but it was never like this. He’s always had to run. Always suppressing that need to be held, to be seen.” Their fingers brushed softly over Penelope’s sleeve, grounding themselves. “It’s why he loves this place so much. Because here, he gets that family. He’s allowed to stop running.”

Penelope’s eyes glimmered with unspoken emotion, and she reached out, her hand settling over Tiresias’s with unyielding warmth. “And he’ll never have to run again,” she promised, voice firm and unyielding. “Not here. Not with us.”

Tiresias glanced down at Hermes, whose breath came steady and even, and his eyes softened. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I could bear to watch him run any longer.” They turned to Odysseus. “You’ve given him something he’s never had before,” they said gently. “A home. A place to rest. That means everything.”

Odysseus’s breath shuddered out of him, and he nodded, his arms tightening just slightly around Hermes. “It means everything to me, too,” he whispered. “To have him here. To have all of you here.” His gaze flickered to Penelope, then to Tiresias, and he smiled, soft and unyielding. “Our whole family.”

Tiresias’s lips curved into a tender smile, their fingers brushing against Penelope’s sleeve once more. “Family,” they agreed softly.

~~~~

The palace doors creaked open, and the familiar warmth of home greeted them like a long-held embrace. Odysseus stepped over the threshold, Hermes still nestled against his chest, his breath even and soft. The king’s arms were gentle, holding the god with a tenderness that spoke to a father's heart.

Behind them, Tiresias stood next to Penelope, who still cradled Telemachus in her arms, his limbs dangling and his head tucked into her shoulder. The boy stirred only slightly as they walked, his hands clutching the edge of his mother’s dress, murmuring faintly in his sleep. 

They stopped at the base of the stairwell, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows against the stone walls. Odysseus hesitated, his grip on Hermes instinctively tightening. His eyes flickered up the stairs, then back down to the god in his arms, whose wings fluttered faintly against his ankles.

Penelope caught the movement, her eyes softening. She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Odysseus’s cheek. “I’ll settle Tele,” she murmured, her voice smooth and soothing. “And I’ll see you in our chambers, my love.” Her eyes flickered to Tiresias. “Good night, Tiresias,” she added, her voice full of warmth. “Sleep well.”

Tiresias inclined his head, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “Good night, my lady,” they replied, voice gentle. “Rest well.”

Penelope leaned in, pressing another kiss to Odysseus's cheek, then to Telemachus’s brow. With a final warm smile, she ascended the stairs, her steps light and practiced, the soft murmur of Telemachus's sleep-laden voice trailing behind her.

The hall grew quiet, and Odysseus shifted slightly, glancing down at the god in his arms. His expression was tender, almost wistful, as if he were cradling something far more fragile than a deity. His eyes flickered up to Tiresias, who stood patiently, hands resting neatly over the edge of his staff.

Tiresias smiled softly, head tilted just slightly toward the king. “You can tuck him in, if you’d like,” he offered, voice full of warmth. “I think he’d like that.”

Odysseus hesitated for only a moment before nodding, the decision settling over him with surprising ease. “I would like that,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “As long as I’m not intruding.”

Tiresias’s smile widened, and they stepped forward, reaching out just slightly to brush his fingertips against Odysseus’s arm. “You’re not,” they assured him. “I can help you get him settled.”

Odysseus relaxed, his shoulders softening as Tiresias led the way, their steps soft and measured as they moved through the winding corridors. The lanterns cast warm light across the stone walls, illuminating the path back to Hermes and Tiresias’s room.

When they reached the familiar doorway, Tiresias stepped aside, gesturing gently for Odysseus to enter first. The king moved with practiced grace, settling Hermes down on the soft blankets with infinite care. Hermes stirred slightly, his wings giving a soft flutter, and his hands reached out instinctively, grasping at the fabric with a faint frown. “Starlight?” he murmured, his voice thin and fragile, barely more than a breath.

Odysseus’s eyes darted to Tiresias, a flicker of worry crossing his expression. But Tiresias only stepped forward, their hand brushing lightly against Odysseus’s shoulder. “Nothing to worry about,” they murmured, voice gentle and edged with a sleepy fondness. “He’s just a clingy sleeper.” With that, Tiresias moved gracefully to the edge of the bed, settling down beside Hermes with familiar ease.

The moment Tiresias’s hand touched Hermes' arm, the messenger’s brow unfurrowed, and his hands relaxed, finding their way to Tiresias’s tunic with practiced familiarity. Hermes curled in, his breath softening, and his wings fluttered faintly before settling, his whole body seeming to relax into the prophet’s presence.

Odysseus watched, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and tenderness. He took a step forward, brushing the edge of the blanket up over Hermes' shoulders.

When he straightened, Tiresias tilted his head towards him, a soft smile lingering on their lips. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For letting him have this…for letting both of us have this.”

Odysseus’s gaze flickered back to Hermes, then to Tiresias, his eyes shining with something raw and unyielding. “Hermes is my son now,” he said softly, the words falling from his lips with unyielding certainty. “And you,” He stepped forward, resting a hand gently on Tiresias’s shoulder, squeezing gently with care. “You’re his partner. That makes you my son, too.”

Tiresias’s breath hitched, and his hand moved instinctively to brush against Odysseus’s, the touch gentle but steady. “I.” They swallowed hard, voice cracking just slightly. “Thank you, Odysseus. That means more than you know.”

“Family takes care of each other,” the king murmured, his hand squeezing just a bit tighter before he pulled back. “You’ll both be safe here. You have my word.”

Tiresias nodded, their fingers brushing softly over Hermes' hair, smoothing down the mussed curls. “I know,” they whispered, voice warm and steady. “And I’ll take care of him. Always.”

Odysseus took a step back, lingering at the doorway for a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the peaceful rise and fall of Hermes' chest. He watched the way Hermes' hands stayed curled around Tiresias’s tunic, the way Tiresias’s hand moved in gentle circles over the god’s back, grounding him even in sleep. His heart softened, and he smiled, nodding once to Tiresias.

“Good night,” Odysseus murmured, voice full of reverence. “To both of you.”

“Good night,” Tiresias replied, voice soft and sure.

The door clicked softly shut behind him, and the room fell into gentle silence, broken only by the even breaths of the god curled safely against his partner’s side.

~~~~

The room was warm and softly lit, the flicker of a few scattered candles casting long shadows on the walls. Penelope sat at her vanity, unbraiding her hair with delicate fingers, each twist and curl unwinding slowly, her gaze soft as she watched the strands fall. She looked up when the door creaked open, her eyes brightening as Odysseus stepped in, the weariness of the day softened by a gentle smile.

“You’re back,” she murmured, her voice smooth and edged with fondness. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen asleep in there with him.”

Odysseus chuckled, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. He crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps, coming to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. “I might have,” he admitted, voice full of warmth. “I didn’t want to leave him. He just looked so at peace.”

Penelope’s hands stilled in her hair, her eyes meeting his in the mirror. “You’re a natural, you know,” she whispered, her voice threaded with admiration. “Fathering. You have always been.” Her hands reached up, covering his on her shoulders. “Just because you were away, doesn’t mean you lost that. You came back, my love. You came back, and you are here.”

Odysseus’s smile was tinged with something tender, something just shy of sadness. “I’ve missed so much,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze dropped, hands squeezing her shoulders gently. “I missed everything with Telemachus. I missed his first steps, his first words. I missed him growing up.” He swallowed hard, his hands tightening.

Penelope turned on the bench, her hands coming to rest on his, squeezing gently. “But you are here now,” she reminded him, her voice firm but gentle. “And Hermes, he’s not leaving. He’s right here. I saw the way you held him, the way he relaxed against you.” She smiled, something soft and unyielding. “You are his father now. And he knows it.”

Odysseus blinked, his hands flexing under hers. “You think so?” he asked, voice full of disbelief. “I mean, he’s, he’s Hermes. He is my great-great-grandfather. I’m practically a child compared to him.”

Penelope’s eyes crinkled with a smile, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I don’t think the years matter much anymore,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. “Not for him. Not for you.” Her gaze softened. “Besides, he’s not who he was. You know that.” She tilted her head, her hair tumbling over her shoulder like a dark wave. “Between you and me, I think I like this version of him better.”

Odysseus’s eyes softened, a breathy laugh slipping from his lips. “You do, huh?” he asked, voice cracking just slightly.

“I do,” Penelope said firmly. “And I think you do too.” Her hands squeezed his gently. “You are a good father, my love. Telemachus adores you, and Hermes,” Her voice softened. “Hermes is healing with you. I can see it.”

Odysseus swallowed hard, his gaze flickering away for a moment before he forced himself to meet her eyes. “But they’ll leave eventually,” he whispered, voice cracking. “They’ll go back to the Underworld. Tiresias is, they’re a soul, Penny. Bound to the Underworld. And when they go back, Hermes will go with him.” He hesitated, his hands clenching gently. “They’re inseparable. When Tiresias returns, Hermes will too. He’d never leave them alone.”

Penelope’s gaze softened, her hand lifting to cup his cheek. “And you think they won’t return?” she asked gently.

Odysseus’s jaw clenched. “I want to believe they will. But what if this is it? What if he forgets us? What if this was just?” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “What if this is his last visit?”

Penelope’s thumb brushed over his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. “Oh, my love,” she whispered, voice full of tenderness. “That little god is going nowhere.” She smiled, soft and sure. “Even if he goes back to the Underworld, he will be back to visit. He’s smart, much smarter than he lets on in all his silliness. He’ll find a way, and chances are, he’ll bring Tiresias.”

Odysseus’s gaze flickered back to hers, something fragile and hesitant in his eyes. “You think so?” he asked, voice cracking just slightly.

“I know so,” Penelope said firmly. “Because Hermes is more than just a god, more than just a messenger. He’s part of our family now. You saw the way he curled right into you tonight, the way you held him.” Her eyes shimmered with warmth. “That wasn’t just comfort. That was love.”

Odysseus’s breath shuddered out of him, his hands squeezing hers tightly. “I just don’t want him to forget us,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t want him to forget me.”

Penelope’s smile grew, her eyes shining with something warm and unyielding. “He won’t,” she promised, her voice firm. “And neither will Tiresias. We have them for as long as they’re willing to be here.” She paused, her smile softening. “So, we make these moments count.”

Odysseus’s breath shuddered, but his eyes glimmered with something fragile and hopeful. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes closing. “I love you,” he murmured, voice cracking with emotion.

Penelope’s hands came up to cradle his cheeks, her thumbs brushing over his skin with infinite tenderness. “And I love you,” she whispered back, her voice a breath of warmth. “And I love our family. All of it.”

Odysseus’s eyes fluttered open, and for a long moment, the room was silent, heavy with the weight of love and fear, of hope and longing. And then, Penelope smiled, her hands slipping back to his. “Come to bed, my love,” she murmured gently. “We’ll face whatever comes. Together.”

Odysseus nodded, his hands squeezing hers one last time before he followed her to the bed, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a bit lighter, his heart just a bit fuller.

Notes:

I Promise the angst will be back soon. And then it won't leave for a while. SO enjoy the fluff while it lasts.

I'm all moved in!!! Everything went really smoothly for the most part. A few minor/easy-to-fix problems, but nothing else bad. Thank you all for your patience these last few weeks, I know updates weren't normal. I start fall semester classes tomorrow, so updates might still be weird while I settle into the rhythm of classes, but hopefully not. I decided to post this chapter today instead of tomorrow as a thank you to all of you. Enjoy the extra chapter!

As always, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Now, go take care of yourselves, lovely readers! Drink water, take a nap, eat food, and if you have to, go take your meds!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 64

Summary:

Primarily fluff, with the smallest bit of angst to start.

The storm began quietly, as it always did; a faint rumble in the distance, low and ominous, the kind that reverberated through marble halls and whispered through the columns of Olympus. Apollo sat upright in his bed, the silken sheets pooling around his waist, his hands clutching the edge with knuckles gone white. His heart thundered in his chest, beating out a rhythm that almost matched the low growl of the approaching storm.

He held his breath, waiting. Another rumble, louder this time. Closer.

His hands clenched tighter, his eyes flickering to the window. White flashes crackled in the distance, illuminating the sky for brief, harsh moments. And then came the roar, closer, louder. It made the walls tremble, and the sky seemed to shudder with it.

Hermes.

Apollo moved before he realized he had. The silk sheets fell away, and his feet hit the cold marble with a soundless whisper. He stumbled forward, heart lurching as he grasped for his tunic, slipping it over his head with shaking hands. He barely managed to tie the golden sash at his waist before he was out the door, bare feet slapping against stone as he raced down the corridors, the thunder growing louder, angrier.

Hermes. He had to find Hermes.

He skidded around corners, nearly knocking over an ornate pedestal that held a silver vase, but he didn’t stop. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, his hands skimming the smooth marble walls as he flew down the steps. The halls blurred past him, statues of gods and heroes, portraits draped in gold and silver, none of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to Hermes, making sure he was safe. His little brother. 

“Please be okay,” Apollo whispered, voice cracking. “Please be okay.”

He rounded the final corner, feet skidding against polished stone as he came to a halt before the familiar doorway. Hermes' room. He didn’t pause to knock; his hands flew to the handles, throwing them open with a force that made the hinges creak and shudder.

The room was empty.

Apollo stood there, breathless, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs. He blinked, eyes sweeping the familiar space. The bed was made neatly, the sheets untouched. The desk was clear, as if no one had written at it for weeks. The familiar little knick-knacks and charms Hermes always kept were gone, missing. Vanished.

“No,” Apollo whispered, voice thin and cracking. “No, no, no…” He stumbled forward, hands grasping at the sheets, pulling them back as if Hermes might be hiding beneath them, curled up and waiting for him to find him. But there was nothing. Only empty linen and untouched pillows.

His knees hit the floor before he realized he had fallen, his hands clutching the edge of the bed, knuckles white. “Hermes?” His voice was a whisper, raw and broken. “Where are you?”

The thunder cracked again, loud and vicious, shaking the very walls. Apollo flinched, hands flying to cover his ears, breath coming out in ragged gasps. It was too loud. Too much. Zeus was furious; he could feel it, the way the sky trembled and shook, the way the very foundations of Olympus seemed to rattle with it.

“Apollo.”

Apollo jerked, his hands dropping from his ears as he twisted around. Athena stood in the doorway, her silhouette sharp and strong against the flickering light of the hall. Her eyes were soft, brow furrowed with concern. She stepped forward.

“Athena,” Apollo breathed, voice cracking. He looked back at the empty room, his hands shaking. “He’s…he’s gone. I thought, I thought he’d be here.”

Athena’s eyes softened further, and she crossed the room in long, deliberate strides. Her hands settled gently on his shoulders, squeezing just slightly. “Polly,” she murmured, her voice low and steady. “He’s in Ithaca, remember? He’s safe.” Her hands moved to cup his face, drawing his gaze back to her own. “He’s with Tiresias, and Telemachus, and Penelope, and Odysseus. He’s healing.”

Apollo blinked, breath hitching in his throat. “He’s…he’s in Ithaca.” The words came out soft, barely more than a whisper, as if he were testing them, feeling them settle on his tongue. “Right. He’s in Ithaca.”

Athena’s hands did not leave his cheeks. She nodded, her expression resolute. “He’s safe, Polly. You don’t have to worry.”

The thunder cracked again, and Apollo flinched, eyes flickering to the window. “But what if–”

Athena’s grip tightened, pulling his gaze back to hers. “He’s safe,” she repeated, voice firm. “I promise you. Hades has him protected, remember? Zeus can’t touch him there.”

Apollo swallowed, his hands dropping to his sides as the tension slowly bled from his shoulders. He nodded, just slightly. “Right,” he whispered. “He’s safe.”

Athena watched him for a moment longer, her gaze sharp and assessing. She did not release him, her hands still cradling his face, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer. “If you’d like,” she murmured, “you can stay with me tonight. I know the storm is loud.” Her eyes flickered to the window, where flashes of lightning still illuminated the sky. “And I don’t mind the company.”

Apollo blinked, surprise flashing across his expression. “I–yeah,” he whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. “I’d like that.”

Athena smiled, soft and sure. Her hands fell away, one settling on his shoulder as she guided him out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them. The halls were still dark, still trembling with the distant roar of the storm, but Athena’s hand was firm and steady, her presence grounding.

When they reached her chambers, she stepped aside, holding the door open for him. Apollo stepped inside, breath still a little uneven, but the tension was beginning to bleed away. Athena followed, her hand brushing lightly against his back as she moved to her dresser, pulling out thick blankets and tossing them onto the wide expanse of her bed.

Apollo watched her, a smile flickering at the edges of his lips. “Thank you, Thena,” he whispered, his voice full of reverence.

Athena only nodded, her eyes softening as she settled onto the edge of the bed. “Come here,” she murmured, patting the space beside her.

Apollo didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, curling up beside her as she pulled the blankets over both of them, her arm resting lightly across his shoulders. The thunder still rumbled, shaking the walls with Zeus’s temper, but here, in Athena’s room, with her hand gently brushing through his hair, Apollo found he could breathe again.

After a few long, slow breaths, Apollo reached for his lyre, fingers brushing along the strings, plucking a few soft, steady notes. Athena listened, her fingers still threading through his curls. “What are you playing?” she asked quietly.

Apollo smiled softly, his eyes drifting closed. “Something soft,” he murmured. “Something to drown out the storm.”

The music filled the room, soft and tender, blending with the distant rumble of thunder, lulling them both into something almost like peace. Athena’s hand continued its steady rhythm, brushing through his hair, and Apollo’s fingers danced along the strings, weaving melodies that whispered of calm seas and gentle dawns.

And there, in the heart of Olympus, with the storm raging outside, the two siblings found solace in each other’s presence. And when the thunder crashed, neither flinched.

Not anymore.

As the last note drifted into silence, Athena spoke, her voice a low murmur. “We’re going back tomorrow.”

Apollo’s hand stilled, his breath catching. “To Ithaca?”

Athena nodded, her eyes sharp and unyielding. “Yes,” she whispered, voice fierce and unyielding. “I have nothing that needs to be attended to.”

Apollo’s fingers tightened on the lyre, his breath coming out in a shuddering sigh. “Yeah, neither do I,” he whispered. “We’re going back.”

~~~~

The morning light filtered gently through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Hermes stirred first, blinking sleepily as he became aware of the warmth surrounding him. Tiresias's arms were draped around him, solid and grounding, their breath steady and even against Hermes' neck. The god shifted just slightly, only to wince as a sharp, tender ache flared up along his shoulders and neck.

He hissed out a breath, his wings giving a faint flutter beneath the covers. “Ow,” he mumbled, voice still heavy with sleep.

Tiresias stirred behind him, their grip instinctively tightening just a bit. “Hmm?” they murmured, voice low and warm. “What’s the matter, little bird?”

Hermes huffed, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You happened,” he replied, voice muffled by the pillow. “You bit me up like I was some kind of…feast.”

Tiresias chuckled, their breath a warm ghost against Hermes' neck. “Ah,” they murmured, voice full of teasing reverence. “Is my poor little bird sore?” Their hand trailed lazily along Hermes' side, brushing over the thin fabric of Tiresias’s robe that still hung loosely on him. “Should I have been more gentle?”

Hermes groaned, burying his face further into the pillow. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

Tiresias only laughed, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to the back of Hermes' neck, just above a particularly dark mark. Hermes yelped, wings fluttering violently beneath the sheets as he twisted away. “Hey!” he gasped, glaring back over his shoulder. “That hurt!”

Tiresias merely hummed, utterly unbothered. “Oh, I’m sorry, little bird,” he murmured, voice entirely too smooth. “Would you like me to kiss it better?”

Hermes huffed, cheeks flushed. “You are impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here,” Tiresias countered, smile never fading. His hands moved gently, brushing over Hermes' wings with the lightest touch, grounding and familiar. “I’ll take it as a good sign.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips was undeniable. He opened his mouth to retort, but a soft knock at the door had him freezing, wings tensing at his ankles. Tiresias’s grip firmed instantly, his hand brushing over Hermes' arm in smooth, grounding circles. “It’s alright,” they whispered gently. “I’m right here.”

Hermes swallowed, nodding just slightly. He sucked in a breath, and Tiresias’s voice rang clear and smooth. “Come in,” they called, voice steady.

The door creaked open, and a young maid stepped inside, her gaze flickering nervously between the two of them before settling on Hermes. “I’m sorry to intrude,” she began, voice soft and polite. “But Lady Penelope asked me to bring some tunics for Divine Hermes.” Her eyes flickered just slightly to the marks blooming along Hermes' collarbone and neck, her cheeks flushing before she quickly dropped her gaze. “She…she said they should cover a bit more.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his wings fluttering slightly. He cleared his throat, offering the maid a small smile. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft. “That’s very kind of her.”

The maid smiled back, her eyes still fixed politely on the floor. “I’ll leave them here for you,” she murmured, setting the neatly folded tunics on a small table by the door. “If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to call for me.” She bobbed a quick, respectful curtsy before slipping back out the door, closing it gently behind her.

The room settled into silence, only the distant sound of birds outside breaking the stillness. Hermes turned back to Tiresias, his blush still staining his cheeks. “Well,” he murmured, his ankle wings giving a slight flutter beneath the sheets. “Looks like you can get your clothes back.” He tugged gently at the hem of the robe draped around his shoulders, chuckling. “Maybe I won’t have to scandalize the entire palace today.”

Tiresias chuckled, their hands slipping down to brush over Hermes' wings with a gentle, familiar touch. “I’m not entirely sure that’s a good thing,” they murmured, voice soft and teasing. “You’re lovely in my robes.”

Hermes huffed, tugging the edges of the robe closer around him. “You’re insatiable,” he muttered, cheeks flushing once more.

“And you’re stunning,” Tiresias countered smoothly. His hands slipped up to brush over Hermes' head wings, his fingertips grazing the delicate feathers with a touch that sent a shiver down Hermes' spine. “I wouldn’t mind if you kept it, you know. You do feel rather…fetching in my things.”

Hermes sputtered, wings giving a violent flutter. “That’s not the point!” he gasped, his hands coming up to swat at Tiresias’s hands. “The whole palace doesn’t need to know about…” He trailed off, cheeks flushing crimson.

Tiresias chuckled, utterly unrepentant. “Oh, I’m fairly certain they already know, little bird,” they murmured, their breath warm against Hermes' ear. “And if they don’t, well, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

Hermes groaned, covering his face with his hands. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled, voice muffled by his fingers.

Tiresias just chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Hermes' head, their hands never leaving his wings. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way,” they whispered, voice full of reverence.

Hermes couldn’t help the small, soft smile that spread across his lips. “No,” he whispered back. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

Hermes eyed the folded tunics with a reluctant sigh, reaching out to brush his fingers over the soft fabric. “I suppose I should try one of these on.” He glanced back at Tiresias, who remained lounging on the bed, looking entirely too smug. “Are you going to watch?”

Tiresias raised an eyebrow, head tilted just slightly. “I can’t exactly watch, little bird,” they replied, voice dripping with amusement. “But I can certainly listen.”

Hermes flushed, wings twitching slightly at his ankles. He picked up the first tunic, holding it up with a critical eye. It was long enough, thank the gods, the fabric woven finely enough to be considered suitable for a god, even an exiled one. Still, it didn’t have the same weight or scent of Tiresias’s robe, and Hermes found himself lingering on that thought a moment too long.

Tiresias’s smile grew, sensing the hesitation. “What’s wrong? Not as comfortable as mine?”

Hermes' blush deepened as he slipped his arms through the sleeves, the tunic falling around him with soft whispers of fabric. “It’s fine,” he muttered, smoothing it down over his chest. “It’s just,” He hesitated, fingers pausing at the hem. “It’s not quite as warm.”

Tiresias pushed himself up from the bed, feet padding silently across the floor until he was just a breath away from Hermes. “Ah,” he murmured, voice softening. “You’d rather have my robe, then?”

Hermes' wings gave a slight flutter, and he scowled, cheeks pinkening. “I just like the way it smells. When I sleep. It’s comforting, even though you’re there, I feel safe.” He muttered the confession quickly, eyes darting away as if it would make him any less mortified.

Tiresias hummed thoughtfully, fingers brushing over the soft linen of the tunic, just at Hermes' shoulders. “You can keep it, you know,” he murmured, voice dropping just slightly. “I don’t mind.” Their hands slid down the fabric, pausing just above a still-tender bite mark hidden beneath the cloth. Tiresias’s grin grew. “Though this doesn’t quite cover everything.”

Hermes' eyes shot up, wide and flustered. “What? It’s supposed to!”

Tiresias’s fingers traced lightly over the fabric, ghosting right over the places Hermes knew were still tender. “It covers just enough to keep it hidden from most eyes,” they whispered, voice teasing. “But you can still feel them, can’t you?”

Hermes opened his mouth to argue, but Tiresias pressed just slightly, right where he knew one of the deeper marks lay. Hermes yelped, wings fluttering violently at his ankles as he jerked back. “Hey! That–”

Tiresias only chuckled, entirely unrepentant. “It’s a shame, really. I quite like them,” they murmured, fingers brushing over the tunic again, as if mapping the bruises beneath. “But I suppose you can keep them all to yourself. You and I will still know.”

Hermes swatted Tiresias’s hands away, cheeks aflame. “I’m not scandalizing the entire palace,” he grumbled, though there was no true heat behind his words. His fingers tightened on the fabric as he gave it one last tug. “Satisfied?”

Tiresias tilted their head, a smile playing at their lips. “As long as you still feel them, little bird,” they murmured. And before Hermes could respond, they pressed gently against another mark, earning another yelp and a flustered swat.

“Gods, you’re insufferable!” Hermes sputtered, wings flaring slightly. “I’m going to breakfast. And you’re staying on your side of the room.” He made a grand show of flouncing toward the door, though the crimson staining his cheeks did little to mask his smile. Tiresias’s laughter followed him all the way out.

~~~~

Hermes entered the dining hall with his head held high, though he couldn’t quite shake the warmth still lingering across his cheeks. Tiresias followed at his side, smile still smug and unwavering. Penelope looked up first, a soft smile spreading across her face. “You look lovely, Hermes,” she said warmly. “I see the tunics fit well.”

Odysseus chuckled from his place at the head of the table. “And just in time,” he added with a grin. “Can’t have you wandering the halls in nothing but that robe. The maids have enough to talk about already.”

Telemachus, seated beside him, sighed dramatically, his head hitting the table with a soft thunk. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I was worried I’d have to see things I’m not ready to understand.”

Hermes' wings fluttered indignantly at his ankles, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, I assure you, Telly,” he said sweetly, sliding into the seat beside him. “These are mostly for your benefit.” He leaned in conspiratorially, voice dropping to a whisper. “Wouldn’t want to scar the young mind of Ithaca’s heir, now would we?”

Telemachus groaned, shoving him lightly. “Spare me,” he mumbled, cheeks flushed as he reached for his drink.

Penelope laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the room. “You two are ridiculous.”

But before Hermes could respond, Tiresias’s hand slipped around his waist, guiding him out of his chair and into their lap with a practiced ease that left Hermes spluttering. “What are you–?”

Tiresias’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding him steady. “I like having you close,” he murmured softly, voice full of quiet affection.

Penelope laughed again, her eyes bright with mirth. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to ensure you keep him from scandalizing the staff.”

Odysseus only raised his cup in acknowledgment, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I admire your resolve, Tiresias.”

Telemachus, for his part, only sighed dramatically, shoving another piece of bread into his mouth. “As long as you don’t pull any funny business at the table,” he mumbled through his bite.

Hermes, despite the flush creeping up his neck, relaxed further into Tiresias’s hold, the prophet’s arms steady and grounding. Slowly, as the conversation flowed around him, Hermes' head dipped forward, eyes growing heavy. He leaned against Tiresias’s chest, wings going still as his breathing evened out, slowly but surely dozing off in the prophet’s embrace.

Tiresias’s hand came up, brushing gently over Hermes' head wings, soothing and protective. Penelope smiled softly, her gaze warm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this…at peace,” she murmured, voice gentle.

Odysseus nodded, his own smile fond. “I’m glad of it.”

~~~~

The morning sun spilled warmly across the marble halls of Olympus, casting long shadows that seemed to whisper with every passing breeze. Apollo’s hand lingered on the strings of his lyre, the last note still humming in the air, barely a whisper before it vanished altogether.

Athena’s eyes remained fixed forward, her jaw tight with the remnants of the confrontation still buzzing beneath her skin. Her hand flexed, then clenched. “He doesn’t need to know,” she murmured, her voice low and deliberate.

Apollo glanced up, surprise flickering across his features. “You think we should keep it from him?”

Athena’s gaze was sharp as an arrow, unyielding. “What good would it do? It’ll only make him afraid.” Her voice dropped, eyes flashing with the memory of Zeus’s rage. “He’s found peace there, Apollo. We won’t be the ones to take it from him.”

Apollo swallowed, fingers still hovering over the strings of his lyre. “But if he finds out–”

“Then he finds out,” she cut in, voice ironclad. “But it won’t be from us. Not until we know it’s safe.” Her gaze softened just slightly, eyes flickering with something softer, gentler. “He’s been hurt enough.”

Apollo’s fingers finally dropped from the lyre, his hands coming to rest in his lap. He nodded slowly, resolve settling into his bones. “Alright,” he murmured. “We won’t tell him.”

Athena’s shoulders relaxed, just barely, and she reached out, placing a firm hand on Apollo’s arm. “We’ll protect him,” she whispered, fierce and unyielding. “Even if it’s from this.”

Apollo looked up, determination threading through the lines of his face. “We’ll protect him,” he agreed, voice resolute.

Athena’s hand tightened, and her eyes grew distant. “Let’s go see our brother,” she whispered.

~~~~

The morning sun poured gently through the windows of Ithaca, casting soft, dappled light across the breakfast table. Penelope was mid-story, her voice light with laughter as she recounted a time when Telemachus had attempted, rather disastrously, to fish off the rocks near the cove. Odysseus chuckled in tandem, his grin wide and nostalgic, while Telemachus groaned, head dropping into his hands. “Must you always bring that one up?” he mumbled, cheeks flushing.

“Of course,” Penelope replied, eyes twinkling. “It’s a mother’s right.”

Tiresias wasn’t listening, not entirely. Their hand moved in gentle circles over Hermes' head wings, fingers carding softly through the downy feathers. Hermes was tucked firmly in his lap, head nestled against Tiresias’s shoulder, breaths coming slow and even. His wings had fallen still, the gentle twitch of tension finally leaving his frame. Every so often, a soft hum would escape him, content and unburdened. Tiresias smiled, their fingers never ceasing in their gentle ministrations.

Then, the air changed.

Tiresias felt it first. Their hand stilled, fingers pausing against Hermes' feathers as something rippled across the room, whispering at the edges of magic and divinity. They straightened just slightly, head tilting in that perceptive way that spoke of their acute awareness. Their hand settled a bit more firmly around Hermes' waist.

Penelope paused mid-sentence, eyes flickering to the doorway as though she, too, felt the disturbance. The room went still, tension pooling in the silence. Odysseus set down his cup, shoulders squaring as if bracing for something bad. Telemachus blinked around at them all, eyes wide with confusion. “What’s going on?” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath.

Before anyone could respond, the air shimmered, threads of light pooling at the entrance like spun gold. It spread outward in tendrils, wrapping around the doorway in a soft hum of energy. Tiresias’s grip on Hermes firmed just a bit more. Hermes stirred, brow furrowing as he shifted against Tiresias’s chest. “Mmm?”

The light grew, brightening just for a moment before it split open with a flash of gold. Apollo stepped through first, sunlight practically spilling off his skin, eyes bright and joyful. He didn’t hesitate, his gaze sweeping across the room until it landed on Hermes, still nestled in Tiresias’s lap. His smile grew impossibly wide. “Well, well,” he called out, voice ringing with delight. “Look who’s been getting comfortable.”

Hermes didn’t stir. Not yet. Tiresias’s hand returned to brushing lightly over his head wings, grounding him even as the room hummed with divine energy. But the air wasn’t done shifting. The light flared again, sharper this time, more precise. Athena stepped through, gaze calculating and bright, her armor gleaming in the sunlight. She paused just inside the threshold, eyes landing on Hermes, and for the briefest moment, her expression softened.

Penelope exhaled, as though she had been holding her breath. “You’re both…you’re back,” she said gently, voice laced with wonder and happiness.

Athena’s gaze never left Hermes, even as she stepped forward, her movements careful and measured. “Is he…?” she began, voice softer than usual.

Tiresias smiled at them. "He's fine. Sleeping like a dramatic sunning cat. But perfectly alright." They leaned down just slightly. Their hand moved from Hermes' wings to brush a gentle thumb over his cheek. “Hermes,” he whispered, voice as soft as a prayer. “You have visitors.”

Hermes stirred, blinking groggily, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, confusion clouded his gaze, his brow creasing as he looked up at Tiresias. “Visitors?”

Tiresias just nodded, thumb brushing soothing circles against Hermes' cheek. Hermes turned slowly, gaze sweeping over the room until he saw them.

Apollo, all sunlight and gleaming mischief, standing in the doorway with his grin as wide as the horizon. Athena, poised and regal, her eyes softening when they met his.

And then, Hermes launched himself from Tiresias’s lap with all the force of a summer storm. Tiresias barely had time to catch the rush of air he left behind before Hermes collided with his siblings, his wings fluttering wildly at his ankles as his arms wrapped around both of them.

“Polly! Thethe!” he gasped, voice cracking on their names. His wings trembled, feathers flaring with emotion as he buried his face in their shoulders. “You’re back…you’re actually back!”

Apollo laughed, the sound rich and bright, arms wrapping around Hermes' back with unyielding strength. “Of course we are!” he crowed. “Couldn’t leave you here to cause trouble all on your own, could I?”

Athena’s hands found their way to the back of Hermes' head, fingers gentle and grounding. “We’re here,” she murmured, her voice soft but sure. “We’re here, Hermes.”

He held them tighter, wings fluttering in tandem with the quickening of his breath. “I missed you,” he whispered, the words cracking on his lips. “I missed you so much.”

Athena’s hands pressed just a bit firmer. “We missed you, too, Herms.”

Apollo snorted, ruffling Hermes' hair with all the affection of a doting sibling. “And here I thought you’d forget all about us now that you’ve got company.” His eyes flickered over to Tiresias, who still sat calmly at the table.

Hermes remained firmly tucked between Apollo and Athena, his arms wrapped tightly around both of them, his wings fluttering with barely contained excitement. He buried his face into Apollo’s shoulder, still murmuring, “You’re back, you’re back…” over and over as if afraid that speaking it aloud might somehow make it untrue.

Apollo couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bright and full of relief. He squeezed Hermes tighter, rubbing a hand over his back. “Gee, Feathers,” he teased, grinning down at him. “We were only gone for four days. You act like we’ve been gone a year.”

Hermes huffed, his head wing flicking out and smacking Apollo lightly across the cheek. Apollo burst into laughter, leaning back with mock offense. Athena smirked, her own hand brushing softly through Hermes' unruly curls.

“Four days,” Hermes mumbled, pulling back just enough to glare at Apollo, though his smile never wavered. “Four days is four days too long.”

Athena chuckled, ruffling Hermes’ hair again. “For once, I’m inclined to agree with you, Hermes.”

Apollo sighed dramatically, one arm still wrapped around Hermes as he tilted his head back. “Gods, Thena, you’re encouraging him,” he groaned, but his grin never left his face. “Next thing you know, he’ll be demanding we never leave him alone again.”

Hermes narrowed his eyes at Apollo, a glint of mischief sparking. “Oh, don’t worry, Polly,” he teased back, using the nickname with deliberate emphasis. “I’ve got plenty of people here to keep me company. Telemachus, for one.”

Telemachus smiled. “That’s right. Hermes and I spend time together, but I think we’ve all lost to Tiresias.” he exclaimed

Apollo’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, so now you’re replacing us with mortals, huh?”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who said four days was nothing,” she pointed out calmly.

Apollo sighed dramatically, flopping backward just a bit, taking Hermes with him. Hermes squawked as he was nearly yanked off his feet, though Apollo caught him easily, spinning him around and depositing him back on his feet as if he weighed nothing.

Hermes smacked Apollo’s chest lightly, his wings twitching indignantly. “Maybe if you didn’t take so long to come back, I wouldn’t have to find new favorite people!”

Apollo feigned hurt, pressing a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Hermie. Truly, I may never recover.”

Athena rolled her eyes, a rare smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re hopeless.”

Tiresias, who had been quietly observing, finally cleared his throat, drawing the attention of all three gods. “Perhaps you would all like to continue this discussion over breakfast?” they suggested, a knowing smile gracing their lips. “Though I must say, Hermes, I don’t mind sharing your attention. You seem to have plenty to give.”

Hermes flushed, trying to hide his grin as he was gently herded back toward the table by his siblings. Apollo kept an arm slung over his shoulders, while Athena’s hand remained firmly on his back, guiding him gently.

As they settled back into their seats, Penelope was already reaching for more bread and fruit to set out for their new guests. “I’m glad you’re both here,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see Hermes so lively.”

Odysseus nodded in agreement. “He was practically bouncing off the walls yesterday.”

Hermes huffed, crossing his arms. “I was not,” he muttered.

Apollo snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds about right. Can’t sit still to save his life.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the way his smile softened. Tiresias leaned over to brush a thumb over the back of his hand, grounding him.

Athena, calm and collected as ever, eyed the table with quiet approval. “You’ve done well, Hermes,” she said softly. “Being here suits you.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed, and his wings gave a small, contented flutter at his ankles. “It’s different,” he admitted. “But it feels like I can breathe here.”

Apollo’s teasing softened, his hand coming up to ruffle Hermes' curls. “You deserve to breathe easy, Herms. We’ll make sure it stays that way.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, his eyes bright and fond. “Just don’t take off again so soon, okay?”

Apollo grinned, leaning down to press a quick, affectionate kiss to his brother’s temple. “Not planning on it,” he promised. “You’re stuck with us now.”

Hermes couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him, his shoulders finally relaxing, the weight of the past days slowly lifting with every easy breath.

The breakfast table settled into a warm hum of conversation. Penelope poured more tea, her hands practiced and graceful, while Odysseus carved into fresh fruit, setting pieces onto the plates before him. Hermes found himself tucked between Apollo and Tiresias, with Athena next to Apollo.

“So, how was your grand adventure?” Hermes asked brightly, spearing a piece of bread with enthusiasm. He glanced between Apollo and Athena, eyes alight with curiosity. “Did you actually do anything interesting, or were you just sitting around?”

Apollo rolled his eyes, reaching for the fruit platter. “Oh yes, Feathers, because we’re known for doing nothing. Really living up to the godly legacy.” He tossed a grape into his mouth with a dramatic flair. “You’re one to talk. Look at you, lounging around like a pampered prince.”

Hermes sniffed, turning his nose up with mock dignity. “I am resting,” he declared, wings fluttering slightly. “It’s a necessary part of my routine now.”

Athena arched a brow, her gaze flickering to Tiresias, who only raised their hands in mock surrender. “I can assure you, it’s well-earned,” Tiresias offered, voice smooth and unyielding. “He’s been quite busy.”

Hermes grinned, leaning back just enough to nudge Tiresias with his shoulder. “See? I’m productive,” he chimed in, entirely too pleased with himself.

Odysseus chuckled, setting down his knife. “So, how is Olympus faring without the three of you stirring up trouble?” he asked conversationally, taking a sip from his cup.

The room stilled, almost imperceptibly. Apollo’s hand paused over the platter, his grip tightening just a fraction before it resumed its casual grace. Athena’s expression didn’t falter, but the sharpness in her eyes flickered, just for a heartbeat, before she reached for her own drink.

Hermes didn’t seem to notice, still contentedly chewing his bread, but Odysseus caught it. His gaze lingered on the two gods just a moment longer, brows knitting together in thought. He didn’t press, though, merely nodding as Apollo finally answered, voice a touch too light. “Oh, you know,” he said with a grin that almost reached his eyes, “same as always. Golden statues, endless halls, father glaring down from his throne. You’d think the man would get bored after a couple of thousand years.”

Athena snorted, eyes still fixed on her cup. “You’d think,” she murmured, voice low.

Penelope, ever perceptive, shifted the conversation with ease. “Well, I’m sure you’re both hungry after your trip. Please, eat. I’d hate for our guests to leave here starving.”

Apollo seized the change in subject eagerly. “I knew I liked you,” he declared, piling more fruit onto his plate. “Finally, someone with priorities.”

Athena rolled her eyes, but she reached for a piece of bread, the tension gradually ebbing away from her shoulders. “Leave some for the rest of us, Pollo.”

Hermes, oblivious to the exchange, simply grinned wider. “I missed this,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “Just, all of us. Together.” His wings fluttered happily, and Tiresias’s hand settled a bit more firmly on the back of his chair, grounding him.

Athena’s gaze softened, and she reached over to touch his shoulder, just briefly. “So did we, little brother,” she said softly.

Apollo hummed in agreement, mouth full of fruit. “I mean, you make everything more interesting. Who else is going to jump out of the window for fun?”

Hermes laughed, head tilting back as the sound spilled freely. “That was one time!”

“Three times,” Athena corrected, her lips twitching.

Hermes huffed, turning back to his food with exaggerated dignity. “It was a learning experience.”

“Oh?” Tiresias murmured, voice lilting with amusement. “And what exactly did you learn?”

Hermes paused, blinking. “That I should have tied the rope before I jumped.”

The whole table erupted in laughter, even Athena’s shoulders shaking as she let out a rare, soft chuckle. Apollo reached out, ruffling Hermes' hair with unrestrained affection. “Some things never change.”

Hermes leaned into the touch, the warmth of his family settling around him like a blanket. He didn’t notice the way Odysseus’s gaze lingered on Apollo and Athena, the crease of concern still etched into his brow. But the king didn’t say anything, simply observing as breakfast continued, the air warm and bright with chatter.

Athena smiled and Apollo leaned over, his grin wide. “Well, you’ve got us now, Feathers. What do you want to do about it?”

Hermes blinked, glancing around the table. Penelope was refilling Odysseus’s cup, Telemachus was still munching on bread, and Tiresias’s hand was a comforting weight at his back. It felt complete.

“Well,” he started slowly, a smile spreading across his lips. “Why don’t we do something? All of us. A family day.” He glanced between them, wings twitching with excitement. “We’ve got everyone here. Apollo, Athena, Tiresias, even you, Telemachus.” He grinned at the younger boy, who perked up immediately at being included. “We could go out, spend the day, I don’t know, doing anything.”

Telemachus’s eyes brightened. “That sounds amazing!” he said eagerly. “We could go to the orchards! It’s lovely this time of year!”

Penelope smiled gently, eyes warm. “I think it’s a lovely idea, Hermes.” She reached over, resting a hand on his. “We can have lunch outside in the orchards.”

Hermes' wings fluttered happily, and he turned back to his siblings. “You’re in, right? You have to be in.”

Apollo laughed, ruffling Hermes' hair. “You kidding? I’m in. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Athena nodded, her eyes shining with a softness that was rare for her. “Of course. It sounds perfect.”

“Good,” Hermes grinned, practically bouncing in his chair. “Then it’s settled! Family day.”

They all finished the last of their food, gathering plates and setting them aside with gentle clatters of pottery. Tiresias gently ran a hand over Hermes' back, guiding him up from the chair. “Shall we?” they asked, voice as soft as ever.

“Yeah!” Hermes chirped, practically skipping out of the room with Telemachus hot on his heels, both of them already tossing ideas back and forth with eager enthusiasm. Penelope followed, her gaze warm and proud as she watched them go.

Tiresias smiled, trailing after them with unhurried grace, pausing just long enough to incline his head towards Apollo and Athena. “You two coming?”

Apollo grinned. “We’ll be right there.”

Tiresias nodded and continued forward, disappearing through the doorway.

Odysseus remained, leaning back in his chair with a casualness that belied the sharpness of his gaze. “A word,” he said softly, his voice carrying just enough weight to draw Apollo and Athena’s full attention.

They both turned, straightening just slightly. Odysseus’s eyes softened, but the steel never quite left. He gestured to the seats across from him. “Sit.”

Apollo and Athena exchanged glances before lowering themselves back into their chairs, expressions guarded but not unkind. Odysseus folded his hands together, elbows resting on the table. “I saw how you two tensed up when I mentioned Olympus,” he began quietly, eyes steady and unyielding. “I’m not blind.”

Apollo shifted uncomfortably, his hand coming up to scratch at his thumbnail, a habit Odysseus immediately clocked, Athena’s hand rose and gently settled over Apollo’s stopping the god from causing harm. She remained otherwise stoic, but the flicker of emotion in her eyes was impossible to miss.

“I’m not going to force you to tell me anything,” Odysseus continued, his voice gentle. “But you should know…whatever it is, you can share it. Especially if it concerns Hermes.”

Apollo hesitated, gaze flickering to Athena. She met his eyes, a silent conversation passing between them. At last, Apollo took a deep breath, his fingers ceasing their nervous fidgeting. “Zeus…he tried to attack us,” Apollo admitted, voice low. “When we got back to Olympus.”

Odysseus’s gaze hardened, jaw tightening just slightly. “Did he?”

Athena nodded, her voice steadier than Apollo’s. “We made it to the Underworld before he could do any real damage,” she added calmly. “Hades protected us. Promised he wouldn’t let Zeus reach us.”

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning their faces. “And you haven’t told Hermes.”

Athena’s eyes flickered downwards. “We didn’t want to scare him. He’s starting to breathe again. I won’t be the one to take that away from him.”

Apollo nodded, his shoulders tense. “He’s been through enough. You know he’d just worry, even though we’re safe and unharmed.”

Odysseus considered this for a long moment, fingers tapping thoughtfully against the tabletop. His gaze never wavered. “I understand,” he said finally, voice gentle. “But make sure your secrets don’t hurt him in the long run.” His eyes met Athena’s first, then Apollo’s. “I know you’re doing it to protect him. But secrets fester. If he finds out from anyone other than you,” He shook his head slowly. “It won’t be good.”

Athena’s jaw tightened, but she nodded slowly. “We’ll tell him,” she promised, voice firm. “Just not yet.”

Odysseus’s eyes softened. “I trust you,” he murmured. “Both of you. And Hermes does too.” He rose from his chair, clapping Apollo firmly on the shoulder. “Now, come on. We’ve got a family day to get to.”

Apollo swallowed, nodding slowly, his smile creeping back into place. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he agreed, forcing brightness back into his voice.

Athena followed suit, straightening her shoulders with military precision. “After you.”

Notes:

Hey all! I'm not sure if you'll be getting an update for this, but if you got an update/notif for this work right now, its just for this chapter note. I know, I know, disappointing. BUT! I realized this morning that I didn't include the note or the summary when I posted last night. I know that's a small thing, but I wanted to add it anyways.

I meant to post this on Monday, but Monday was a mess. My first day of classes. The class I had was great, I love it, but I found out that the 31 credits I took last year weren't showing up on my transcript/audit and freaked out cause I'm supposed to graduate in May. Needless to say, I was a bit frazzled on Monday.

That's all, I'm gonna post another chapter sometime tonight though, stay tuned!

Until then, take care of yourselves! Drink water, eat something, take a nap if you want, and take your meds if you have to.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 65

Summary:

FLUFF! And some light angst.

I know you’re all excited for the angst angst to come back. It will. I promise. But we’ve got a little more fluff to get through first.

Enjoy!!

The path to the orchard was dappled with sunlight, the trees overhead casting soft shadows that danced along the ground with every breath of the wind. Penelope walked arm in arm with Odysseus, her laughter ringing softly in the morning light as Telemachus charged ahead, determined to find the best spot beneath the oldest tree.

Apollo and Athena trailed just behind him, their banter a soft hum of familiar rivalry, while Hermes and Tiresias walked together, fingers intertwined. Hermes' wings fluttered slightly at his ankles, brushing the soft grass with every step. Tiresias walked with measured grace, the staff in their free hand tapping gently against the path to guide their way, though Hermes never strayed far from his side.

“So,” Penelope began, her voice carrying back to Tiresias. “I’ve heard many stories of the Underworld, but most of them, well, they’re hardly flattering.” Her voice was gentle, not probing, but curious. “What’s it really like? I’d love to hear it from someone who actually knows.”

“Yes, I only saw a small part of it when I visited you. What’s the rest of it like?” Odysseus added on.

Tiresias smiled, their fingers curling just slightly around Hermes'. “Most only hear about the worst of it,” they began, their voice soft but sure. “The punishments, the fields of Asphodel, they speak of it like it’s a place of endless gray, where souls simply drift, empty and forgotten.” Their head tilted slightly as if considering their words. “But it’s not all like that. There is beauty there, it’s quiet and still. The kind of beauty that doesn’t scream for attention, but is seen by those who don’t demand it.”

Hermes' wings gave a soft flutter, a smile spreading across his lips. He squeezed Tiresias’s hand gently, encouraging him to go on.

“The fields of Asphodel stretch farther than the eye can see, like a sea of pale blossoms, always swaying gently even when there’s no wind,” Tiresias continued. Their voice was low and melodic, as if they were reciting a memory. “There’s always this sense of calm, a kind of peace that settles over everything. Souls walk there not in torment, but in reflection.”

Apollo listened intently. Athena nodded along, her gaze fixed forward but her expression soft. Telemachus, still walking just ahead, glanced back every now and then, curiosity clear in his eyes.

“And Elysium,” Tiresias added, his smile growing. “That is a place of true joy. Laughter echoes there, carried by the breeze, and the sun always seems to set in the most beautiful hues of gold and crimson. It’s warm.” His smile faltered, “though I’ve never seen or felt it myself. But I’ve heard the stories of souls who’ve been.”

Penelope glanced back, her brow raised in gentle surprise. “I never imagined the Underworld as warm.”

Tiresias chuckled softly, his grip tightening just slightly around Hermes' hand. “Most don’t. But warmth is not just in the sun. It’s in memories and company and the hearths that burn even in the depths of shadow. Though the realm is definitely warmest when Lady Persephone returns, the realm almost feels alive.”

Hermes' wings gave another soft flutter, his expression brimming with pride. “But the most beautiful part,” Hermes started, his voice dropping just slightly. “The most beautiful part is this cave that sits about a hundred paces off the River Lethe.” He looked back at Tiresias, drawing him just a bit closer, his voice softening with fondness. “Our home.”

Tiresias turned their head toward Hermes, their expression impossibly gentle. Hermes leaned in just slightly, brushing his forehead to Tiresias’s temple. The moment lingered, soft and warm, until Penelope broke the silence with a gentle smile. “I’d love to hear about your home,” she prompted, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Hermes beamed, his wings fluttering with excitement. “Oh, you’d love it!” he said, practically glowing with enthusiasm. “It’s not very big, but it’s perfect.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You? Living somewhere small and humble? I’m shocked.”

Hermes shot him a playful glare before turning back to Penelope. “There’s the bedroom,” he began, his voice softening as he spoke. “It’s the warmest part of the house. Tiresias always makes sure of that. Blankets everywhere, layered so high it’s like sinking into a cloud. He calls me a nesting bird, but I swear, it shouldn’t be a crime to like blankets. Oh! And we have this little herb and salve cabinet just outside the room. It’s filled with the small things I brought him over the years. And of course, plenty of salves and tonics.”

“For your inevitable injuries,” Tiresias supplied smoothly, and Hermes laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained.

“Yes, for my inevitable injuries,” Hermes agreed, rolling his eyes. “Tiresias keeps it stocked with everything you could imagine. Sometimes we even go out and gather new herbs along the River Lethe.” He paused, a grin spreading across his face. “We’ve even got the nicest little living room. A small table, some chairs, a couch so big it nearly swallowed me whole more than once.”

Penelope’s eyes shone with warmth. “It sounds cozy.”

“Oh, it is!” Hermes nearly bounced as he walked, his wings fluttering with each step. “There’s a hearth too. Tiresias always lights it first thing in the morning. It keeps the whole place warm, even when the Underworld is at its coldest.”

Tiresias’s expression softened. “You get so cold, my love,” they murmured, voice full of quiet fondness. 

“I do like the warmth,” Hermes agreed, his grin never wavering. “And then, there are the caverns.” He glanced around the group, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You wouldn’t believe how many winding paths there are! Perfect for hide and seek.”

Telemachus perked up, eyes wide with interest. “You play hide and seek in the Underworld?”

Hermes laughed. “Of course we do! You’d be surprised how much fun it is. You could be hiding in one of the side caves for hours before anyone finds you.” He paused, his grin turning almost shy. “But the best part is the blanket nest.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “The what?”

Hermes' wings gave another excited flutter. “We built it in the living room, right by the hearth, layer after layer of blankets and pillows. It’s massive! Tiresias and I curl up in it every night.” He paused, eyes flickering to Tiresias with unmistakable fondness. “I always sleep better there.”

Penelope’s smile softened, and she linked her arm with Odysseus. “That sounds lovely,” she murmured. “Truly.”

Odysseus nodded in agreement. “I can’t imagine a better place to call home.”

Tiresias tilted their head towards Hermes. “It is perfect,” they whispered, voice soft enough that only Hermes heard. Hermes just smiled, holding them a little closer as they walked, his wings fluttering contentedly.

Apollo snorted. “You really are a little bird. I still remember the blanket nests you used to make on Olympus.” He teased. Hermes faltered a moment, but grinned.

“You’re just jealous cause I never let you join me.” He stuck his tongue out at Apollo, who gasped.

“You let Dionysus join you! Of course, I’m jealous. And Aphrodite!” He said. Hermes grinned.

“Duh, they’re cooler. You never brought wine or offered to weave flowers in my hair. Besides, you know that Dio actually knows how to party.” He teased.

“Just you wait. I think that Tele and I will make our own blanket fort, and you won’t be allowed in.” Apollo retaliated. Telemachus grinned.

“That sounds like fun!” He beamed. Apollo reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair. Hermes gasped.

“A blanket fort, without me? Heathens. Absolute villainy.” Hermes gasped in mock offense. Athena smiled.

“Don’t worry, little wing, I’ll make a blanket fort with you. It’ll only be for the coolest people, though, so I guess Apollo won’t be able to join.” 

Apollo spluttered. “Betrayal! Thena, I can’t believe you.” 

Hermes' laughter echoed through the trees all the way to the orchard stretched out before them, sun-dappled and alive with the soft rustling of leaves. Rows of trees spread as far as the eye could see, each one bearing fruit and whispering in the breeze. At the far end, the largest and sturdiest of them stood tall, its branches stretching wide, casting a generous patch of shade beneath its canopy.

“There!” Telemachus called out, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. He pointed toward the massive tree, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “That one’s my favorite! It’s the best for climbing.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Best for climbing, huh?” he echoed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I bet I can climb higher than you, Featherbrain.”

Hermes gasped, eyes going wide before narrowing with mock offense. His wings fluttered at his ankles, giving a faint tremor of excitement. “Oh, it’s on, Polly.” He glanced back at Tiresias, squeezing their hand before letting go. “Be right back, Starlight!” he called, already dashing toward the tree.

“Get back here, you menace!” Apollo shouted, breaking into a sprint after him. Telemachus whooped loudly, dashing after the two gods, his laughter ringing out through the orchard.

Tiresias laughed softly, shaking their head. “I imagine the tree won’t survive this,” they murmured to Penelope, who chuckled in return.

“They’ll be alright,” Odysseus assured, watching the trio race to the trunk with fond amusement. “That tree’s stood for decades. I think it can handle a few gods and an energetic boy.”

The three clambered up the trunk with impressive ease, Apollo pulling ahead first, hands gripping the rough bark with practiced strength. “Come on, Featherbrain!” he called down, voice ringing with laughter. “You slowing down in your old age?”

Hermes snorted from just beneath him, his wings fluttering indignantly. “Hardly!” he shouted back. He swung up to the next branch, nearly brushing Apollo’s foot with his fingers. “You’ve just gotten a head start, is all.”

Telemachus scrambled up behind them, finding footholds with surprising agility. “You’re both going too slow!” he hollered, his grin wide and fearless. “I’m catching up!”

Apollo laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained. “Keep dreaming, Little Prince!” he taunted, moving higher, his hands finding purchase with effortless grace.

They climbed higher and higher, the branches growing thinner but sturdy enough to hold their weight. When Apollo finally reached the highest branch that could hold him, he leaned back against the trunk with a smug grin. “Looks like I win,” he declared, stretching his arms out dramatically.

Hermes landed on the branch just below, sticking his tongue out. “Temporary victory,” he scoffed. “I’m just biding my time.”

Telemachus flopped onto the branch beside Hermes, panting but smiling. “I made it!” he said between breaths, eyes sparkling with pride.

They all settled there for a moment, catching their breath, laughter drifting down to the others waiting below. Tiresias stood beneath the tree, head tilted upward, hands resting on their staff. Their expression was soft, but their grip tightened just slightly.

“You three alright up there?” Penelope called, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered up.

“All good!” Telemachus shouted back, waving cheerfully. “We’re practically touching the clouds!”

Odysseus chuckled, resting a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “I told you that tree would be just fine.” He said, throwing a warm smile to Tiresias.

But then Hermes, never one for being outdone, glanced up at the higher branches stretching out above them. His wings fluttered at his ankles, and a spark of mischief glimmered in his eyes. “Not beaten yet,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Apollo blinked. “Hermes?”

But Hermes was already climbing again, hands gripping the bark as he hoisted himself up. His wings flared slightly, catching the breeze and rustling the leaves.

“Hermes!” Athena called from below, her voice steady but firm. “You’re already high enough!”

Hermes paused, glancing down with a grin. “I’ll be fine!” he called back. “I just want to see,” He broke off, glancing upward. “I want to feel it.”

“Hermes,” Penelope called up, her voice laced with motherly concern. “Come back down, dear. You’re high enough!”

Odysseus echoed her, his hand shading his eyes as he squinted up. “Listen to them, Hermes!” he shouted. “That branch doesn’t look sturdy enough!”

Tiresias froze below. “Hermes,” he called softly, unable to see the god, but trusting the others and knowing Hermes was too high. “Hermes, my love, please come down. You don’t have to prove anything.” He murmured, worry seeping into their tone.

Apollo and Telemachus exchanged glances, the fun of the climb quickly fading into something more tense. “Come on, Hermes,” Apollo said, voice softer. “We can go find the highest hill if you want to see the view.”

Hermes hesitated, his hands tightening on the branch. “But it feels like I’m flying again, Pollo.” 

And it did. The wind blew through the leaves, stirring his hair, whispering past the clipped wings at his ankles and head. For just a moment, he closed his eyes, tilting his head back to catch the breeze. It swept around him, cool and gentle, and for the first time in so long, it truly felt like he was flying.

Just for a second. Just for a breath.

Then the branch cracked.

“Hermes!” Tiresias’s voice rang out from below, sharp and laced with fear.

Hermes' eyes snapped open just in time for the branch to splinter beneath him. He reached out, fingers grazing the branch above him, but not able to grab on in time. His wings flared wide, trying to slow his inevitable descent. Then, hands under his arm, grabbing, yanking.

“Menace. Absolute menace.” Apollo grunted, hands locked around Hermes’ arm. Hermes flashed a strained grin. 

“I knew you’d catch me.” He teased, reaching his other hand up to grab the branch and pull himself up.

“Taking a new approach to flying, Feathers?” Telemachus teased from a nearby branch.

Hermes shrugged. “Had to check.” He responded. 

Apollo huffed a laugh, beginning to climb down. “Check what? If you were still half woodland critter?”

Hermes stuck his tongue out, nimbly climbing down, hopping from branch to branch. “I’ll have you know it was a calculated move. I was simply -”

“Falling?” Athena interrupted, grinning as he finally hit the ground. She brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders, her smirk widening. “I’d give you points for grace, but,” she gestured to the crumbling leaves and snapped twigs. “that was mostly luck.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, cheeks flushed. “I was almost there!” he protested, brushing leaves from his hair.

Apollo, having dropped gracefully beside them, chuckled. “Sure you were.”

But before he could retort, Tiresias was there, arms wrapping around him with sudden, grounding warmth. “You’re alright?” they murmured, voice low and reverent, hands brushing over his shoulders and wings, checking for any sign of harm.

Hermes melted into their touch, nodding. “I’m alright,” he whispered back, voice softer, more vulnerable. “I’m alright.”

Tiresias’s hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing over the faint smear of dirt there. “Good,” they murmured, their voice a prayer. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, sweet bird.”

Hermes laughed, a little shaky but genuine. “I’m fine, Starlight,” he promised, leaning into their touch. “I had Polly to catch me.”

Apollo crossed his arms, looking entirely put out. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, but said. “Thanks, Pollo.” 

The god grinned, ruffling Hermes’ hair. “Anytime, Herms.”

Notes:

I KNOW I KNOW…this was supposed to go up yesterday. Believe it or not…I had it ready. I just legitimately fell asleep without hitting post. My bad.

Well, hope you enjoyed anyways! Take care of yourselves! Eat food, take your meds, drink water. You know the stuff.

Love y’all! <3
Kari

Chapter 66

Summary:

FLUFFFFFFFF…with a hint of angst if you squint

Discussion surrounding self harm, but its not outright mentioned, described, etc. Just implied if you read into it. Just a heads up.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Tiresias asked, voice low and threaded with concern. Their hands slipped over Hermes' shoulders, brushing past the curve of his neck, where a tender bruise still rested, pressing lightly by accident, and Hermes sucked in a sharp breath, his wings giving a reflexive flutter.

“Ow–” he winced, flinching back just slightly. Apollo and Athena’s heads snapped to him, hearing his wince.

Tiresias’s hands stilled. “Sorry, love. I forgot.” They murmured. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Hermes flushed, shaking his head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…uh…” His fingers skimmed over the collar of his tunic, tugging it just a bit higher, as if that would somehow smooth over the slip-up.

Apollo, sharp-eyed as always, raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what was that?” He stepped closer, hands already glowing faintly with healing magic. “Did you get hurt? Let me see.” 

Hermes backed up immediately, hands flying to his collar. “I’m fine!” he squeaked, voice pitching up. “Nothing to see here!”

Apollo’s eyes sparkled with realization. He crossed his arms, forming a grin that was already pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know, Feathers. That looked like a pretty sharp wince.” He raised his voice just slightly. “Athena, did you see that? I think Hermes is hiding something.”

Athena glanced over, her expression worrying. “Hiding something?” she echoed, brow furrowing. “Hermes, are you hurt?”

“No!” Hermes protested, cheeks flushing a deep red. “I’m fine. Just a bit sore from–”

Apollo was faster. In one smooth motion, he hooked a finger under Hermes' collar, tugging it down just an inch. Just enough to reveal the edge of a deep, dark mark that still bloomed against Hermes' skin. Apollo’s eyes widened for just a second, before he burst into laughter that echoed through the entire orchard.

“Oh gods!” Apollo crowed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. “That’s what got you wincing? Mr. Prophet, you really didn’t hold back, did you?”

Hermes' face went crimson, and he practically melted into Tiresias’s arms, hands flying up to try and cover the evidence. “Apollo!” he spluttered, wings fluttering wildly at his ankles. “Don’t–”

But Apollo was inconsolable, his laughter spilling out unchecked, barely managing to get words out between gasps. “I knew you two were getting cozy, but gods above, Hermes! How many are there?” He leaned back in, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Did you even leave any space untouched?” He tried to grab the robe to see, but Hermes just hid further in Tiresias’s arms, swatting at his brother’s hands.

Athena looked utterly confused, her gaze flickering between Hermes and Apollo with a frown. “What are you talking about?” she asked, arms crossing. “Did he get hurt or not?”

Hermes groaned, burying his face against Tiresias’s chest. “Please let me die,” he mumbled, voice muffled by fabric. Tiresias chuckled softly, one hand moving up to brush over his head wings, soothing and grounding.

Telemachus, who had been watching with wide eyes and an open mouth, finally groaned, throwing his head back. “Not again,” he grumbled loudly, throwing his hands up. “I thought we were done talking about Hermes' love life!”

Athena blinked, realization dawning slowly as she caught sight of Hermes' bright red face and Apollo’s breathless laughter. Her lips quirked, a chuckle escaping before she reached over and ruffled Hermes' curls. “Good for you,” she said softly, amusement threading her voice. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself, Herms.”

Hermes whimpered, pressing himself further against Tiresias, who was, annoyingly, far too amused for Hermes' liking. “You’re all the worst,” Hermes mumbled, voice muffled by the prophet’s robe.

Apollo straightened, wiping a tear from his eye. “Oh, I am never letting you live this down,” he promised, grin wide and wicked. “Wait till Dionysus hears about this.”

Hermes groaned even louder. “I’m moving to the Underworld permanently,” he declared. “I will become a shade with Tiresias. You can all have fun without me. We do not accept visitors.”

Tiresias chuckled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with them, little bird,” they murmured. “Scandal and all.”

The group had barely managed to compose themselves before Apollo sidled back up to Hermes, his grin still impossibly wide. “So,” he began, his voice dripping with mischief. “How many marks are we talking here? Two? Three? Twenty?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Should I ask Tiresias directly, or are you gonna fess up?”

Hermes groaned, yanking his tunic collar even higher, which only made Apollo laugh harder. “You’re impossible,” Hermes muttered, wings fluttering with embarrassment.

“I’m just being a concerned brother,” Apollo cooed, clasping his hands over his heart. “I mean, I’d hate for you to be in pain, Hermes. We wouldn’t want Tiresias to get too carried away, now would we?”

Hermes' flush deepened, and he turned to Tiresias with a pleading look. Tiresias, of course, was utterly unhelpful, his smile serene as ever. “I would hardly call it ‘carried away,’” Tiresias murmured, voice lilting with amusement. “More like thorough.”

Apollo howled with laughter, practically doubling over, while Hermes spluttered, his ankle wings flaring indignantly. “You’re both awful!” he hissed, but there was no real fire behind it, only the soft edges of affection threaded with mortification.

“Thorough!” Apollo wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’m writing that one down. You’re giving me all kinds of material.” He paused for a beat, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Do you think if I shout it loud enough, Dionysus will hear me? I’m sure he’d love to know Hermes' partner is ‘thorough.’”

“Apollo, I swear to the gods,” Hermes lunged, and Apollo skipped out of his reach, laughing the whole time.

Athena, who had been observing with her arms crossed and a growing smile, finally spoke up. “Alright, alright,” she said, chuckling as she stepped between them. “I think Hermes has suffered enough. For now.”

Apollo straightened, his grin positively feral. “For now,” he agreed, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then back at Hermes. “But this isn’t over, Featherbrain. Not by a long shot.” He chuckled. “This is going to be prime blackmail material for years. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for him to get like this? And now, Tiresias has made it so easy.”

Hermes, still pink in the face, shot him a glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Apollo raised an eyebrow. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” His grin grew wider. “Should I check for more bruises? You did kind of stumble when you were climbing that tree. Are you sure you’re not aching?”

Hermes looked ready to combust. “You are the worst.”

“Worse than Tiresias?” Apollo challenged, and Tiresias just chuckled from behind Hermes, their arms slipping around his waist.

“I don’t know,” Tiresias drawled, his voice a soft purr against Hermes' ear. “I think I could be worse if you wanted me to be, little bird.”

Hermes yelped, his head wings flaring, accidentally catching Tiresias in the face, drawing a laugh out of Athena. “Okay, you know what?” Hermes blustered, his voice an octave too high. “I’m done. I’m walking away. I’m–”

“Leaving so soon?” Athena teased, stepping into his path with a knowing smile. “You’ll miss all the fun.”

Hermes practically collapsed back against Tiresias, groaning. “I hate you all.”

“No, you don’t,” Tiresias murmured, hands smoothing over his sides with tender familiarity. “And you know it.”

Hermes buried his face in his hands, shaking his head with the faintest hint of laughter in his voice. “I’m doomed.”

“Alright,” Penelope began, voice carrying with that particular tone only a mother could master, “I think we need to set a few ground rules before we continue.” She smiled gently, but her arms were crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised with a look that spoke of gentle but firm authority. Odysseus stood beside her, his expression amused but carefully neutral, while Telemachus sat against the trunk of the tree.

Hermes blinked, still tucked under Tiresias’s arm, wings fluttering nervously. “Ground rules?” he echoed, glancing up at Tiresias, who only shrugged with a small, amused smile.

“Yes, ground rules,” Penelope said firmly. She held up a finger. “First: no more teasing Hermes.” She gave a pointed look to Apollo, who had the decency to at least look a little sheepish. “I’m worried his face will never recover from being that red.”

Hermes huffed, his wings twitching at his ankles, but he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. Tiresias’s arm tightened around him, drawing him in closer, and Hermes leaned into the touch with a contented sigh.

Penelope raised a second finger. “Second: no more sneaking off. This is a family day, and I want all of you where I can see you. That includes both of you,” she added, gesturing to Apollo and Athena.

Apollo raised his hands in surrender, his grin never fading. “I make no promises,” he teased, only to receive a swift elbow to the ribs from Athena, who smirked.

“Third,” Penelope continued, ignoring Apollo’s dramatics, “no more climbing trees.” Her eyes flickered to Hermes, Apollo, and Telemachus, all of whom shrank slightly under her gaze. “Especially if it means falling out of them,” she added, one brow arching with motherly authority.

Hermes' wings gave a guilty flutter, and Tiresias chuckled beside him, brushing a soft kiss to his temple. “Noted, my lady,” Hermes murmured sheepishly, earning a grin from Penelope.

“And finally,” Penelope added, her voice softening just slightly, “stop trying to give me a heart attack.” Her eyes flickered between Hermes, Apollo, Telemachus, and Tiresias, a fondness shining there that made Hermes' breath catch. “I’ve had quite enough excitement for one morning, thank you very much.”

Athena chuckled from her place by the tree, shaking her head. “I find it interesting,” she drawled, “that not one of those rules was meant for me.”

Odysseus let out a laugh, clapping her on the shoulder. “We can’t all be paragons of rule-following, Athena,” he teased.

Athena just smirked, unbothered. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Telemachus snorted, shuffling his feet as he kicked at the grass. “We’ll be good,” he promised, though his grin suggested otherwise.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Penelope said dryly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “For the next five minutes, at least.”

Hermes couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning further into Tiresias’s side. The prophet’s hand rested on his hip, his thumb grazing just slightly over one of the more tender marks. Hermes flinched, a soft squeak escaping his lips before he could bite it back.

Apollo’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh no, did I hear that right?” he teased, stepping forward with an exaggerated grin. “Is my dear baby brother sore?”

Hermes turned scarlet, flapping a hand in Apollo’s direction. “Don’t, just don’t!” he spluttered, his wings fluttering wildly.

Apollo’s grin only widened. “Well, that’s what you get for–”

“Apollo.” Penelope’s voice cut through like a blade, smooth and unyielding. Her hands were on her hips, and the look she gave him was enough to make even a god pause.

Apollo stiffened, his grin faltering as he glanced between Penelope and Hermes, then back again. “I was just–”

“Apollo.” Penelope’s voice was gentle but firm, and she raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Apollo cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. “Right. Shutting up now,” he muttered, stepping back in mock surrender.

Athena’s laughter rang out, clear and unrestrained, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “You know it’s bad when even you back down,” she teased, nudging Apollo with her shoulder.

Hermes' wings fluttered slightly less frantically, and Tiresias leaned in to murmur in his ear, “Safe for now, little bird. Thanks to Lady Penelope’s terrifying rules.” He teased

Hermes shot him a grateful smile, though his cheeks were still flushed. He looked back at Penelope, who gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” he mouthed, and Penelope only nodded in response.

“Alright then,” Odysseus said, clapping his hands together. “Where to next?”

Telemachus perked up immediately. “The lake!” he shouted, his eyes bright and eager. “Let’s go to the lake!”

Apollo, recovered from his scolding, grinned wide. “I’m in.” He turned to Hermes, waggling his eyebrows. “How’s your swimming these days, Feathers?”

Hermes groaned, but there was laughter in his voice. “I swear if you toss me in, I’m telling Penelope,” he shot back.

“Oh, you’ll be swimming, whether I toss you in or not,” Apollo laughed, sprinting ahead, Telemachus right at his heels.

Hermes rolled his eyes, slipping his hand back into Tiresias’s. “Well,” he sighed dramatically, “I suppose we’d better catch up before he throws you in.”

Tiresias only chuckled, squeezing his hand. “I’d like to see him try.”

They started forward, the group trailing after the two troublemakers as their laughter rang out across the orchard. Behind them, Penelope and Odysseus walked arm in arm, Athena trailing just slightly behind, her eyes bright and content.

The lake sparkled under the midday sun, the surface rippling gently with the lightest breeze. Hermes reached the edge first, his wings fluttering nervously at his ankles, brushing the tips of the grass with faint tremors. He stared down at the water, his reflection looking back with wide eyes and a hesitant frown.

Apollo skidded to a stop beside him, practically bouncing with anticipation. "What’s the hold-up, Feathers?" he asked, his grin wide and infectious. Telemachus arrived just a step behind, nearly tumbling into the water before catching his balance with a laugh.

Hermes bit his lip, wings fluttering with just a bit more nervous energy. "I–" he started, glancing back at Apollo, his expression sheepish. "I just…I don’t want to get my wings wet."

Apollo raised an eyebrow, then rolled his eyes with a playful scoff. "Oh, come on, Herms," he said, draping an arm over Hermes' shoulders. "You know I’ll help you dry them off. Like I always do."

Hermes blinked, his wings giving the smallest flutter at his ankles. "Like you always do?" he echoed, voice soft with disbelief. Memories sparked at the edge of his thoughts, summer days and hidden coves, Apollo with that easy smile, dragging him out of rivers and lakes and never once complaining about the time it took to smooth every feather back into place.

Apollo squeezed his shoulder, his grin softening. "Like I always do," he promised.

Hermes hesitated just a moment longer, then nodded. His wings fluttered with determination, and he stepped forward, toes dipping into the cool water. He gasped slightly, wings twitching, but Apollo held steady beside him, guiding him forward with gentle assurance.

Telemachus laughed, barreling forward with none of Hermes' trepidation. He splashed into the water with reckless abandon, sending droplets flying in every direction. Apollo laughed, shoving Hermes just a little further in, the cool water lapping around their ankles.

Hermes laughed, the sound bright and free as he kicked a bit of water back at Telemachus, who retaliated with a splash that sent Hermes scrambling backward with a squawk. Apollo joined in immediately, sending wave after wave of water straight at Hermes, who yelped and flailed his arms, wings fluttering wildly.

"Unfair!" Hermes cried, splashing back with a vengeance. "This is an ambush!"

Telemachus laughed, sending another splash in Hermes' direction. "All’s fair in war!" he shouted, eyes bright with mirth.

Apollo laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender before sending another wave of water barreling straight for Hermes' chest. "You heard the kid," he teased. "No mercy!"

Hermes yelped, ducking beneath the water for just a second before popping back up, hair slicked back and eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, you’re going to regret that," he shouted, sending a flurry of splashes back at the two of them.

The chaos continued, laughter and splashing echoing across the lake’s surface, rippling through the stillness with vibrant, unrestrained joy. Tiresias stood at the water’s edge, head tilted with a gentle smile, listening to the shouts and laughter with a soft fondness.

The three played on, chasing and splashing, darting through the water with wild abandon. It wasn’t long before Apollo, chest heaving with laughter and eyes glimmering with mischief, pulled Hermes and Telemachus aside, crouching low in the water. "I have an idea," he whispered, voice dripping with conspiratorial delight.

Telemachus leaned in, eyes gleaming. "What is it?" he whispered back, glancing back at Athena, who stood calmly at the water's edge, arms crossed, eyebrow arched in mild amusement.

Apollo’s grin grew wicked. "We’re going to get Athena wet," he declared, voice low and brimming with delight.

Hermes' eyes widened, his wings fluttering with anticipation. "Are you mad?" he whispered, though his grin mirrored Apollo’s. "She’ll destroy us."

Apollo shrugged, undeterred. "But it’ll be worth it," he countered. He glanced at Telemachus, his grin never fading. "You in, Tele?"

Telemachus’s eyes shone with mischief. "Absolutely," he whispered, nodding eagerly.

Hermes looked between them, heart hammering with excitement. His wings fluttered nervously, but the grin never left his face. "Alright," he whispered, glancing back at Athena, who still watched them with that knowing gaze. "But if she kills us, I’m haunting you."

Apollo just laughed, clapping Hermes on the back. "Deal," he said brightly.

They crouched lower in the water, creeping toward the shore with deliberate, practiced stealth. Tiresias tilted his head in their direction, smiling knowingly. "You’re going to regret this," they murmured, voice full of fondness.

Hermes just grinned back. "Probably," he whispered, before turning back to his siblings.

Athena raised an eyebrow as they neared, her arms still crossed. "You three look suspicious," she remarked, voice as dry as the summer heat.

Apollo plastered on his best innocent grin, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Us?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock offense. "Would we ever do anything suspicious?"

Athena’s expression didn’t waver. "Yes," she said bluntly.

Hermes and Telemachus giggled, the sound muffled behind their hands. Apollo waved them off with a dramatic flourish. "Athena," he began, his voice honey-smooth. "Can’t we just be enjoying the water?"

Athena looked him up and down, gaze unyielding. "No," she said simply, standing up and taking the smallest step forwards, leaning in to say something else.

That was their cue.

With a shared grin, Apollo lunged forward, Hermes and Telemachus at his sides, hands grasping at Athena’s arms and shoulders. She spluttered, eyes widening as she staggered back. "You little–!"

But it was too late. With a mighty shove, the three of them knocked her forwards, the water splashing up as Athena fell beneath its surface.

There was a moment of stillness. A moment where all three held their breath, their eyes wide and hearts pounding.

And then Athena broke the surface, hair plastered to her face, eyes blazing with fury and something almost like delight. "Oh," she said, voice low and dangerous. "You are dead."

Hermes squealed, grabbing Telemachus’s hand. "Run!" he shouted, wings fluttering wildly as the three of them splashed away from the shore, Athena rising from the water like some avenging force of nature.

Apollo laughed, loud and unrestrained. "Totally worth it!" he shouted back, right before Athena lunged for him.

The laughter and splashes continued, filling the lakeside with a brightness that seemed untouched by any shadow. Athena had long since joined in the fray and proving to be a formidable opponent with her precise splashes, while Apollo just went for brute force, sending waves of water crashing over Hermes and Telemachus. Hermes, for his part, giggled and shrieked, wings fluttering wildly as he dodged and splashed back, his eyes bright and alive with unrestrained joy.

Telemachus, determined not to be outdone, sent wave after wave of water crashing back at the gods, his laughter ringing out with pure delight. It was blissful, pure, and unrestrained.

But then, the waves grew.

It was subtle at first, just a bit higher, a bit stronger. Apollo, ever competitive, sent another blast of water toward Hermes, but the wave seemed to swell just a little too high, crashing down with a force that sent ripples far beyond their little circle. Athena paused, her brows knitting together as she watched the water shift and move with a strength that felt unnatural.

Odysseus, standing with Penelope and Tiresias further up the shore, stiffened. His eyes locked on the water, and his heart lurched. For a moment, he wasn’t on Ithaca anymore. He was back on the open sea, the waves towering above him, crashing with the fury of a god.

*Captain! Captain! Captain!*

Their screams washed over him, desperate pleas, begging for Odysseus to do anything to save them. Poseidon’s wrath had been relentless, an unyielding force that stole hundreds of his men.

*Or I’ll raise the tides so high, all of Ithaca will die.*

The god had threatened to drown the entire island if Odysseus did not die. And worst of all,

*I’ll take your son and gauge his eyes. That is unless you choose to die!*

"Telemachus!" Odysseus's voice was sharp, panicked, cutting through the laughter like a blade. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and his eyes burned with the memory of salt and brine, and the threats of an angry god. "Get out of the water! Get out now!"

The playfulness halted instantly. Apollo and Athena’s heads whipped around, eyes wide with confusion and concern. Hermes stilled, wings fluttering nervously at his ankles as he watched Odysseus, whose gaze was wild, his eyes locked on Telemachus with a desperation that sent chills down Hermes' spine.

"Father?" Telemachus called back, taking a hesitant step toward the shore. The water rippled around his knees, but his gaze never left his father’s, confusion and fear mingling in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"

"Get out!" Odysseus roared, his voice cracking with raw panic. He moved forward, nearly stumbling, hands reaching out as if he could pluck Telemachus from the water with his bare hands. "All of you! Get out of the water now! He…he’ll take you! He’ll–"

Penelope was beside him in an instant, her hand on his arm, grounding him. "Odysseus," she whispered, her voice soft but firm. "Look at me."

But his eyes didn’t move. They were fixed on the water, on the gentle ripples that seemed far too similar to the raging waves of his nightmares. "Poseidon," he whispered, voice cracking. "He’ll take him. He’ll take them all…he threatened to drown Ithaca if I. He, Telemachus, he’ll–"

"Odysseus," Penelope said again, her hand firm on his arm, her other hand cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "You’re safe. Telemachus is safe. Apollo, Hermes, Athena, they’re all safe. He’s not here. Not now. You’re home."

Odysseus’s breathing was ragged, his eyes flickering wildly before finally settling on Penelope’s gaze. Her eyes were steady, warm, the tether that had always pulled him back from the edge. His hands shook, but he nodded, barely, his breath coming out in shuddering gasps. "Penelope," he murmured, voice cracking. "I…he threatened all of Ithaca–"

"I know," she whispered, brushing her thumb over his cheek. "But we’re safe. Look." She turned him, just slightly, so that he could see the four of them standing in the water, unharmed, alive. Telemachus’s eyes were wide, worried, but he stood steady, strong. "See? He’s safe. They’re all safe."

Tiresias stepped forward, their hands gentle but grounding as they laid one on Odysseus's shoulder. "You are here," they murmured, voice low and steady. "You are home. Lord Poseidon is not here. He cannot touch you or your family. Not anymore."

Odysseus’s breathing slowed, just a bit, his shoulders sagging as the tension slowly bled out. But his eyes were still wet, still shining with a fear that went far deeper than the surface of the water. His gaze flickered back to the four in the lake, and his breath hitched. "I just…I can’t lose them," he whispered. "I can’t lose any more of my family."

Apollo and Athena exchanged a look, surprise and something softer flickering between them. Family. He had called them family. It wasn’t a title lightly given, not from Odysseus. Not after everything.

Athena’s expression softened, and she stepped forward, coming to the water’s edge. "We’re not going anywhere," she said gently, voice carrying across the lake. "You don’t have to be afraid, Odysseus. We’re here. We’re not leaving you."

Apollo moved beside her, nodding firmly. "We’re right here," he added, his voice brimming with conviction. "You don’t have to be afraid. Not anymore."

Hermes, who had been watching with wide, worried eyes, stepped forward, the water rippling around his ankles. "Odysseus?" he called, voice soft. "We’re okay. I promise."

Telemachus moved next, wading forward until he stood just a bit closer. "We’re okay, Father," he echoed, voice strong and steady. "I’m right here."

And slowly, ever so slowly, Odysseus nodded, his eyes closing just briefly as he let out a shuddering breath. "You’re here," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You’re all here."

Penelope pressed a soft kiss to his temple, her hand brushing through his hair. "We’re all here," she murmured. "And we’re not going anywhere."

Apollo and Athena shared a glance, both stepping further out of the water and onto the shore, giving Odysseus that sense of peace. Hermes followed, his wings dripping, but his smile soft. Telemachus lingered for just a moment longer before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around his father in a tight, grounding hug.

Odysseus’s arms came up, strong and unyielding, holding his son close as if afraid to let him go. His breath came out in a shaky sigh, but when he opened his eyes, the lake was just a lake. The waves were just ripples. And his family was whole.

But then Penelope’s gaze softened, flickering toward the gentle waves lapping at the shore, and the way Odysseus’s hand flexed, fingers tightening slightly, his jaw locked in that familiar, unyielding way. He was staring at the water, his gaze distant and unblinking. 

Penelope squeezed Odysseus’s arm, pulling his attention back to her. “I think,” she began, voice smooth and firm, “it would be a good idea for us to move away from the water. Maybe to the gardens. I know we all enjoy the lake, but it’s been quite enough for today, don’t you think?”

Odysseus opened his mouth to protest, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Hush,” Penelope cut in, her tone soft but unyielding. “It’s alright. We’ve had our fun. We can move along.” She turned back to the others with a smile. “Besides, I’ve heard the flowers are in full bloom right now. Why don’t we see them? It’s the perfect weather.”

Tiresias nodded, turning toward Hermes and extending their hand. “What do you say, little bird? A walk through the gardens?”

Hermes beamed, wings fluttering lightly at his ankles. “That sounds perfect,” he agreed, slipping his hand into Tiresias’s with ease. 

~~~~

The gardens were as breathtaking as promised. Roses, lilies, and irises wove their colors through the greenery, their petals catching the sunlight and spilling it back in a cascade of hues. Butterflies flitted among the blossoms, wings flashing bright against the green.

Hermes' wings twitched every few steps, the feathers still damp and clumping together in uneven patches. He tried to shake them out, giving a few frustrated flaps, but all it accomplished was a fine spray of water droplets catching the sunlight.

Apollo, watching his younger brother’s struggle, snorted. “You look like a wet rat,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Come on, sit down before you soak all the flowers.”

Hermes groaned, rolling his eyes. “They’re so uncomfortable,” he complained, flapping them weakly again just to emphasize his point. “They itch and they’re sticking together.”

Apollo sighed, gesturing to a nearby bench. “Alright, alright. Please, just sit down. I’m not letting you walk around like that. It’s painful to watch.”

Hermes, half grateful and half annoyed, flopped onto the bench with a dramatic sigh. Apollo knelt in front of him, gently grasping one of Hermes' ankle wings, brushing over the feathers with a practiced touch. “Hold still,” he murmured, his hands moving with familiarity and care. He began smoothing each feather, brushing out the water and fluffing the soft down back into place.

Hermes shivered, the touch familiar and grounding. Apollo worked in silence, his fingers deftly fixing each out-of-place feather, moving up from his ankles to his head wings. Hermes sighed, leaning back against the bench, closing his eyes to the warm sunlight and the comforting sensation of Apollo’s touch.

But then, Apollo’s hands stilled. Hermes cracked an eye open, tilting his head to look at his brother. “What?” he asked, voice soft and still heavy with that contentment.

Apollo’s expression had changed, his brows drawn together, his eyes fixed on a patch of missing feathers just at the edge of Hermes' head wing. He swallowed, his hands gentle as they brushed over the bare patch. “Hermes,” he murmured, voice low and careful. “What happened here?”

Hermes blinked, his eyes darting to the ground for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Oh. That.” He shifted uncomfortably, but Apollo’s hands remained steady. “It’s not what you think,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was just…there were petals caught in my wings. I didn’t…I didn’t realize. I was just trying to get the petals out and they were stuck. I didn’t mean to pull the feathers.”

Apollo’s eyes softened, his hands stilling over the empty space. “You didn’t feel it?” he asked, voice tinged with something like fear. “Hermes, you didn’t feel it?”

Hermes shook his head, his wings fluttering slightly. “No,” he whispered. “I didn’t even notice at first. I was just focused on getting them out. But it wasn’t on purpose, Pollo.”

Apollo let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to grip Hermes' shoulders, pulling him just slightly forward. “Hermes,” he whispered, his voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “That’s…that’s scary, you know? You could’ve hurt yourself. You could’ve…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Herms, you didn’t even feel it.”

Hermes swallowed, his hands gripping Apollo’s wrists, holding him steady. “I know,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “I’m sorry, Pollo.”

Apollo’s expression softened, and without another word, he wrapped Hermes up in a tight hug, his arms unyielding and warm. Hermes' wings fluttered weakly, and he buried his face against Apollo’s shoulder, breathing him in. “No apologies. You said it yourself, it wasn’t on purpose.” Apollo whispered, his voice barely a breath. “But remember, if you ever feel like doing that…if it ever gets too much…you find me, okay? Or Tiresias. Or someone. Just…You don’t go through that alone.”

Hermes nodded against him, his hands fisting into the fabric of Apollo’s tunic. “Okay,” he murmured, voice fragile. “I promise.”

Apollo’s grip tightened, his chin resting on Hermes' head. “Good,” he whispered, his voice full of reverence. “That’s good.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, the breeze rustling through the petals, carrying with it the soft hum of birdsong. When Apollo finally pulled back, his hands lingered on Hermes' shoulders, giving them one last squeeze. “Alright,” he murmured, voice steady again. “Now, let’s get you dried off before you start complaining again.”

Hermes chuckled, the sound watery but genuine. “You’re the one who complains,” he teased back, earning an eye roll from his brother.

“Only because you make it impossible not to,” Apollo shot back, resuming his careful preening.

Notes:

Y'all, this week was crazy. I forgot how crazy regular term classes are. I'm still going to aim for three updates a week, but sometimes it may be less depending on my school commitments. As always, school comes before this unfortunately.

Anyways, hope you all enjoyed! Take care of yourselves! Eat food, drink some water, take your meds if you have to!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 67

Summary:

THE ANGST RETURNS (ish). In the second half of the chapter. Also, I lied. The angst is not SUPER strong. Not yet. And I know I keep saying it'll be back, and I promise, it will. I've been looking ahead and there's some small angst in the next few chapters…and then we're back into the real angsty stuff.

Prepare yourselves…

Enjoy! :)

The gardens stretched wide before them, paths winding through clusters of roses and olive trees, the scent of thyme and lavender lingering in the air. Penelope led the way, her hand resting gently on Odysseus’s arm, while Telemachus bounded ahead, his laughter echoing back to them.

Hermes walked alongside Tiresias, his wings giving a gentle flutter every now and then as he leaned into the warmth of Tiresias’s presence. Tiresias’s hand rested lightly on his back, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his tunic in familiar, grounding patterns.

As they rounded a bend, a wide patch of grass came into view, sunlit and welcoming, blankets already laid out with baskets of food settled neatly in the middle. Penelope smiled brightly, clapping her hands. “Perfect!” she declared. “Let’s get settled, everyone.”

Odysseus moved to help her, unloading some of the baskets, while Telemachus flopped down with an exaggerated sigh, arms splayed out like he’d been running for miles. “I’m starving!” he declared dramatically.

“You always are,” Penelope chuckled, ruffling his hair as she passed.

Tiresias made to guide Hermes toward a spot at one end of the blanket, his hand still gently brushing over his back. But before they could even settle, a familiar voice rang out behind them.

“Nope, sorry, Prophet,” Apollo called, hands on his hips and a wicked grin spreading across his face. “He’s ours for now.” His grin widened as he sauntered over, clapping a hand on Hermes' shoulder. “You can have your” – he paused, waggling his eyebrows with all the grace of a teasing older brother – “fun later."

Hermes went bright red almost immediately, his wings giving a scandalized little flutter. “Pollo!” he gasped, mortified. Beside him, Tiresias raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of their lips.

Telemachus groaned loudly, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I thought we were done talking about Hermes' love life!” he whined dramatically.

Penelope, already setting out plates and cups, stopped and turned, fixing Apollo with a glare that could have silenced the entire Trojan War. “Apollo,” she said sternly, pointing a finger at him. “Rule one.”

Apollo’s grin only widened, entirely unbothered. “Worth it,” he replied, shrugging. And before Hermes could protest, Apollo had grabbed him firmly around the middle, hoisting him up as though he weighed no more than a child. “Come on, Featherbrain. We’ve got sibling time to catch up on.”

Hermes flailed helplessly, wings fluttering wildly as he was carted off, Athena laughing behind them. “Wait! What about Starlight! Hey, Pollo, put me down!”

“Not a chance!” Apollo crowed, unceremoniously plopping Hermes down between him and Athena, who immediately looped an arm around his shoulders, effectively pinning him in place.

Tiresias chuckled softly, shaking their head. “I suppose I’ll have to wait my turn,” they said smoothly, settling down beside Penelope instead. Penelope smiled warmly, patting Tiresias on the arm.

“They’re good for him,” she murmured quietly, her eyes still fixed on where Apollo was now ruffling Hermes' hair mercilessly. “And it’s good for them too. All of them need this.”

Tiresias inclined their head, their expression softening. “I know,” they replied, voice low and reverent. “I’m glad for it.”

Meanwhile, Hermes continued to flail under Apollo’s attack. “Hey! Not the hair! That took forever to fix!”

Apollo just grinned wider, his hands still tousling Hermes' curls. “Oh, quit your whining. You love it.”

Athena, utterly unbothered, leaned back on her elbows with a smirk. “I don’t know, Hermes. You’ve gotten pretty soft in Ithaca. Letting us manhandle you like this? You’d have thrown a fit a few years ago.”

Hermes finally managed to wrestle Apollo’s hands away, wings twitching indignantly. “I’m not soft! And I didn’t throw fits!” he protested, though his cheeks were still flushed from the teasing.

Apollo just snorted. “Sure.” He poked Hermes in the side, making him squawk indignantly. “That’s why you keep hiding behind your prophet?”

Hermes' face went scarlet, and he buried it in his hands. “Why are you like this?” he groaned, wings fluttering with embarrassment.

Athena laughed, her eyes softening with rare warmth. “Because you make it easy,” she replied simply.

Apollo grinned, looping an arm around Hermes' shoulders and squeezing tightly. “And because we missed you, Featherbrain. We’re making up for lost time.”

Hermes lowered his hands, glancing between his siblings, and though his cheeks were still pink, his eyes shone with a tender kind of joy. “I missed you too,” he murmured, voice softening. “More than you know.”

Apollo’s grip tightened, and Athena’s arm slung more firmly around his back. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the sun warming their faces, the breeze whispering softly through the olive trees.

But then Telemachus, ever the disruptor, called out, “If you’re done being sappy, can we please eat? I’m still starving!”

Penelope chuckled, waving him over. “Alright, alright. Let’s eat.”

Apollo ruffled his hair one last time, and Hermes, despite himself, leaned into it just a bit.

~~~~

The waves whispered against the shore, curling in soft laps against the sand. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the beach, and the water shimmered with streaks of gold. Hermes stood at the edge, his feet buried in the damp sand, eyes locked on the horizon. He didn’t quite know why he’d wandered this way, only that something had pulled him; an ache, a call, a whisper from the depths.

Apollo and Athena had followed at a distance, their footsteps careful and measured, watching their brother as he stared out at the sea. Athena’s gaze was sharp, flickering over the gentle sway of the tide, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her spear. Apollo’s hands were stuffed into his pockets, brow furrowed in thought.

They’d slipped away quietly, ensuring Odysseus and Penelope were well occupied with Telemachus and Tiresias before slipping down the garden path that led to the beach. Odysseus would have worried, that much they knew. And after the incident at the lake, Hermes couldn’t bear to see that look of fear on the king’s face again. So, they moved quietly, making their way through the winding paths until the whisper of waves grew louder and the scent of salt hung heavy in the air.

The waves came closer, frothing at the edges before slipping back, as if testing the ground, reaching and retreating. Hermes stood still, his ankle wings twitching faintly with each brush of the wind, his head wings fluttering just slightly. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for, only that the water called to him, softly, like a whisper of something long lost.

Apollo stepped up beside him, gaze fixed on the horizon. “You feel it too?” he asked softly, his voice just above the hush of the waves.

Hermes nodded, his eyes never leaving the water. “It’s…familiar,” he murmured. “Like…like when I used to deliver messages over the seas. I’d skim just above the surface, feel the salt spray on my face.” His wings gave a faint, unconscious flutter. “I never really thought I’d miss it.”

Athena came to his other side, her gaze scanning the waters with a calculating glint. “The sea remembers,” she said quietly. “It always remembers.”

Hermes swallowed, his throat tight. “I used to fly over it,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “So many times, all over the world.” He paused, his gaze flickering downward. “I miss it.”

Apollo’s hand came to rest on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “You can still see it, Hermes. The sky is still yours, Herms.” His voice was soft. “You always loved it the most.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he blinked rapidly, his eyes fixed on the waves as they crept closer, brushing the edges of his feet. He didn’t flinch away, didn’t step back. Instead, he stood firm, feeling the coolness seep into his skin, grounding him to the moment.

Athena tilted her head, her eyes catching the faint shimmer of something just beneath the surface. Her hand rested on her spear, eyes sharp and calculating. “Do you see that?” she asked, her voice low.

Hermes' gaze followed hers, and he stepped forward, his heart hammering. Just beneath the surface, the water seemed to ripple, swirling around his legs in gentle, rhythmic pulses. He sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide.

The water wrapped around his calves, curling and swirling with deliberate care, and when it neared his wings, it stilled, avoiding the delicate feathers as if with purpose. Hermes blinked, his breath catching. “What,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “What is…?”

Apollo’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his hand coming to rest between Hermes' shoulder blades. “He’s here,” he murmured softly. “In whatever way he can be.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, his eyes fixed on the tendrils of water that continued to wrap around his legs, curling and uncurling with a tenderness he hadn’t expected. The sea lapped gently, swirling in delicate patterns, almost like a hand smoothing over his skin, like a whisper of comfort.

“Uncle Seidon,” Hermes whispered, his voice cracking just slightly. His hands clenched at his sides, and his wings fluttered faintly at his ankles, stirring the surface just enough to ripple the water around them.

Athena’s expression softened, her eyes flickering with something like reverence. “He’s not here. Not physically at least.” She said quietly. “But this is his way of saying he would be.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes shimmering with something fragile and raw. He reached down, his fingers brushing just barely over the water’s surface, and it responded, curling gently around his hand, cool and smooth and steady.

A breath escaped him, soft and shuddering. “I…I thought he didn’t…” He broke off, his gaze dropping to the water as it lapped gently around his fingers. “I thought he didn’t care.”

Apollo’s hand tightened on his shoulder, grounding him. “He cares,” Apollo murmured, his voice steady and sure. “More than you know. More than he’s allowed to show. Zeus…he doesn’t allow much of anything anymore.” His hand squeezed a little tighter, and his voice grew softer, almost a whisper. “You think Poseidon is the only one who wishes he could be here? Herms, they all do. Every single one of them. Dionysus, Ares, Dite, even Artemis. They all ask about you. They all wish they could come.” He swallowed hard, his hand slipping to the back of Hermes' neck, grounding him. “They just can’t. Not without him knowing. They’re not ready to face that, not yet.”

Hermes' breath caught, his wings fluttering just slightly. “They…they still think about me?”

Apollo’s eyes shimmered. “Every day,” he whispered. “They always ask. I always tell them what I can. They wish they could be here. You’re not forgotten, Little Wing.”

“Trust me, Starling. The moment they feel strong enough, the moment it happens. They’ll be here. As soon as they’re brave enough to defy him,” Athena paused, her stance stiffening, “they’ll find their way to you. Pollo and I found ours a bit sooner. But trust me, they’re coming.” 

Hermes blinked rapidly, his hands clenching at his sides, his gaze locked on the water as it continued its slow, rhythmic swirl. “I-I didn’t know,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I thought…I thought I was just,” he swallowed hard, “forgotten.”

Athena’s hand found his other shoulder, steady and grounding. “Never,” she murmured, her voice ironclad. “You are not forgotten. You are not alone.”

The water swirled one last time, curling around his ankles before slipping away, retreating back into the sea, its presence lingering in the salt on his skin. Hermes watched it go, his breath coming in soft, shuddering waves, and he felt something ease in his chest, something fragile and aching that had been there for far too long.

He took one last look at the sea, the waves still lapping gently at the shore, whispering with each rise and fall. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words slipping away on the breeze, carried out over the waves. He thought, just for a moment, that the water rippled in response.

He turned back to his siblings, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he said, his voice steadying. “Let’s go.”

As they made their way back up the winding path, the sunlight dappled through the olive trees, casting shadows that danced along the ground. Hermes walked between Apollo and Athena, their hands still lightly resting on his shoulders, grounding him with every step. His gaze flickered back to the shoreline just once, the sea stretching endlessly behind them, its whispers fading into the distance.

When they finally reached the edge of the gardens, the soft murmur of conversation met their ears. Odysseus and Telemachus were engaged in what looked to be a playful debate about swordplay, while Penelope and Tiresias were seated on the stone bench beneath the shade of a sprawling fig tree. Penelope’s gaze was sharp, even from a distance, and the moment she spotted the three of them slipping back into view, her eyebrow arched with all the force of a thousand unspoken lectures.

“Well, well,” she began, her voice carrying with the practiced grace of a queen. “I thought I said no sneaking off.”

Hermes' ankle wings gave a slight flutter, and he ducked his head instinctively, though the smile on his face was unmistakable. Apollo’s hand squeezed his shoulder, a light but steadying touch.

Athena stepped forward, entirely unbothered by Penelope’s stern gaze. “We had some family business to attend to,” she said smoothly, the edge of a smile playing at her lips.

Penelope’s gaze flickered between the three of them, eyes narrowing just slightly before she finally huffed out a breath and shook her head. “I suppose I can’t exactly stop that, now can I?” Her eyes softened, and she beckoned them forward. “But next time, at least let me know. I nearly sent Odysseus after you all.”

At that, Hermes' head shot up, eyes wide.

Odysseus chuckled from his place by Telemachus, crossing his arms over his chest. “Almost,” he confirmed, his voice laced with mirth. “Would have been a good chase, though.”

Apollo laughed, his hand clapping Hermes on the back. “Well, it’s good we spared you the trouble, then,” he said, grinning.

Penelope shook her head, though her smile was unmistakable. “Well, now that you’re back, I believe there was a picnic to get to.” She gestured to the spread of blankets and baskets that had been laid out in the grass beneath the fig tree, shaded and cool. “If you three are done with your mysterious business, of course.”

Hermes exchanged a look with Apollo and Athena, the three of them nodding in tandem before following her gesture. “We’re done,” Hermes said softly, a warmth in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “We’re done.”

As they settled back onto the blankets, Telemachus bounded over, throwing himself down with all the enthusiasm of youth. “What kind of family business?” he asked eagerly, his eyes bright with curiosity.

Apollo flopped down beside him, tossing an arm over his shoulders. “Oh, you know,” he drawled. “Just catching up with some old friends.”

Telemachus’s brow furrowed. “You went to see someone?”

Athena raised a brow, shooting Apollo a warning glance before turning to Telemachus with a smooth smile. “Something like that,” she replied calmly. “But it’s done now. We’re back.” Her gaze flickered to Hermes, and she nodded, as if affirming something only the two of them understood.

Penelope watched them all settle, her gaze softening. “Well, I’m glad you’re back safe. Now,” she clapped her hands together, summoning the attention of everyone present. “Let’s enjoy the rest of this day, shall we? No more sneaking off, no more swimming in dangerous waters, and absolutely no more climbing trees.”

Hermes snorted, shaking his head. “We make no promises,” he replied cheekily, earning a swat from Apollo.

“Speak for yourself,” Athena said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not getting dragged back to shore by anyone.”

Hermes settled down beside Tiresias, who instinctively wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. “You alright, little bird?” they asked softly, their hand brushing over his head wings in a gentle, grounding motion.

Hermes leaned into the touch, his wings fluttering softly at his ankles. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice steady. “I’m alright.” His eyes flickered back to the horizon, just once, before he settled against Tiresias’s side with a contented sigh. “I’m alright.”

Tiresias pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, their hand never stilling from its gentle brushing. “Good,” they whispered back. “That’s all I need to know.”

The day settled around them, warm and gentle, as if the sea itself was content to watch from a distance, its whispers lapping against the shore like a promise.

~~~~

The night had settled over Ithaca like a soft-spun shroud, stars flickering in the inky darkness above, casting their light down onto the sea like scattered fireflies. The palace was quiet, save for the distant hum of crickets and the whisper of the wind through the olive trees.

Hermes lay nestled in Tiresias’s arms, the prophet’s breathing steady and warm against the back of his neck. The robe Tiresias had given him was draped loosely over his shoulders, its familiar weight a comfort he clung to. But his eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling above, his mind far away from the safety of the palace walls.

They miss me.

Apollo’s words had been soft, careful, but they had echoed in Hermes' mind all through dinner, through the quiet conversations and the lingering goodnights.

"They miss me," he whispered aloud, even quieter, like if he said it any louder it might vanish into the night.

His fingers curled around the edge of Tiresias’s robe, the softness of the fabric grounding him, but it did little to still the restless ache in his chest. He held his breath for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of Tiresias’s breathing, waiting for it to hitch or pause, anything that would tell him they were awake. But it remained soft and steady, and Hermes exhaled slowly, eyes flickering back up to the ceiling.

He didn’t want to leave. But the tug in his chest had been there since the beach, since Apollo’s hand had been warm on his shoulder, since he had looked out over the water and felt that gentle, familiar pull deep in his bones. His wings fluttered at his ankles, restless and itching for movement.

Carefully, slowly, he slipped out from Tiresias’s embrace, pausing only when he stirred just slightly, his hand grasping at the empty air where Hermes had been. He froze, breath catching, but Tiresias only settled back into sleep, their breathing soft and even.

Hermes stood there for a moment longer, clutching Tiresias’s robe tightly around him. He leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses to their forehead, lingering just a moment before pulling back. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I promise.”

And then he slipped out the door, his bare feet silent against the cool stone as he made his way through the darkened halls. The palace was quiet, the flicker of torchlight casting long shadows against the walls, stretching and bending as he passed. He pulled Tiresias’s robe tighter around him, the warmth and scent of it enough to keep his footsteps steady, his heart grounded.

He found his way to the edge of the gardens, the moonlight spilling over the cliffs and casting the sea in shimmering silver. The path to the beach was familiar, well-worn, and Hermes took it without hesitation, the ocean breeze brushing against his face, tugging gently at his curls.

The sand was cool beneath his feet, soft and welcoming, and Hermes found himself sinking to his knees at the edge of the water. The waves lapped gently against the shore, whispering secrets he could almost hear, almost understand. He tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping Tiresias’s robe around him like a shield, and stared out over the endless stretch of water.

For a long while, he was silent, his gaze fixed on the horizon, watching the way the moonlight flickered and danced on the surface of the waves. The sea seemed to breathe with him, each gentle crash against the shore matching the rise and fall of his chest.

And then he spoke, voice soft and trembling, barely louder than the whisper of the waves. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his fingers curling into the fabric of Tiresias’s robe. “I’m really scared.”

The ocean stilled, just for a moment, the waves pausing as if listening.

Hermes swallowed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I don’t…I don’t know how to be this person. I don’t know how to be happy and not be afraid. Everything still hurts.” His wings fluttered faintly at his ankles, just brushing the sand. “It’s like…like I’m waiting for it to happen again. For everything to be ripped away.”

The water crept closer, gentle and unyielding, brushing just against the tips of his toes, avoiding his wings with a care that felt almost deliberate.

Hermes took a shaky breath, his hands fisting tighter. “I’m happy here,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I am. Tiresias is, gods, they’re everything. And Apollo and Athena…they came for me.” He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat thick and unyielding. “I’m happy. But I’m so afraid. So afraid that it’ll be taken away.”

The waves curled closer, lapping at his legs, gentle and warm, wrapping around him like a hug. Hermes' breath shuddered, and he pressed his face into the soft fabric of Tiresias’s robe, the scent of them filling his lungs. “I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose any of them.” His voice cracked, breaking on the last word, and he took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.”

The water moved up the sand, rising just slightly to brush over his knees, the touch soft and comforting, like a hand pressed gently against his leg. Hermes sniffled, wiping his eyes with the edge of the robe. “And I miss you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I miss all of you. I know I’m not supposed to, but I do.” He laughed, the sound wet and broken. “I’m so tired of pretending I don’t.”

The waves swirled around his legs, drawing back just slightly before coming back again, the rhythm steady and patient. Hermes' breath hitched, and he looked down, watching as the water curled around him, never touching his wings, always just cradling his legs with a tenderness that made his heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. I’m sorry I–” His voice broke off, and he buried his face back into the robe, the sobs ripping through him, unbidden and unyielding.

The sea stayed, its waves cradling him, brushing over his legs like an embrace. Hermes sobbed into the fabric, clinging to Tiresias’s scent, his wings trembling with every ragged breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, until the words blurred together, until he wasn’t even sure who he was apologizing to anymore.

The waves rose just slightly, their movement tender and deliberate, curling around him like a hug, like arms holding him steady. Hermes shuddered, his sobs quieting just slightly, his breath evening out. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “Thank you.”

The water swirled in response, brushing gently up to his knees, and for just a moment, it almost felt like a hand against his cheek, brushing away the tears. Hermes smiled, weak and trembling, but real.

He stayed there, cradled by the sea, until his eyes grew heavy, until his breath evened out, and the waves whispered lullabies against the shore. When he finally drifted off, his head resting against the soft fabric of Tiresias’s robe, the ocean stayed with him, its waves curling protectively around his legs, gentle and unyielding.

And in the silence, beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, the sea never left him.

~~~~

Hermes stirred slowly, consciousness returning in slow waves that lapped at the edges of his mind. The sand was soft beneath him, grains shifting as he flexed his fingers. He was warm, impossibly warm, despite the sea breeze that brushed against his skin. His cheek rested on something soft, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Tiresias's robe—the one he’d brought with him, the one that still smelled like cedar and sage.

He blinked, his eyes heavy and stinging from sleep. Morning light stretched across the horizon, painting the water in hues of orange and gold. The waves were lapping at his feet, gentle and rhythmic, just brushing against his ankles and retreating again. He stared at the sea, watching the water curl around him, again and again, the touch delicate and almost affectionate.

Hermes sucked in a shaky breath, and something caught in his throat, something raw and fragile. “You…you stayed,” he whispered, his voice cracking against the salty air. His hand reached out instinctively, brushing the surface of the water. It rippled, spiraling outwards before curling back to his touch. The sea hugged him closer, swirling around his ankles and the tips of his fingers, like a greeting…like an embrace.

He broke.

A sob wrenched from his chest, raw and unbidden. His fingers clenched into the wet sand, digging deep as his wings gave a pitiful flutter. He felt the water pulse gently against his legs, washing away the stray tears that trickled down his cheeks and dripped from his chin. He didn’t fight it, didn’t try to stop it. He just cried, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he clutched Tiresias’s robe tighter around himself.

“You stayed,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves. “You stayed with me.” The water rippled in response, spiraling around his feet, curling up to his calves in a way that was gentle, reverent, like an apology whispered through the tides. Hermes' hands shook, fingers twisting in the sand. “I-I thought…I thought you didn’t care,” he sobbed, voice breaking. “I thought no one did. I thought I wasn’t…I was,” He couldn’t finish, the words fracturing into broken breaths.

But the water curled tighter, pulling gently at his legs, like it was trying to gather him up, hold him close. The gentle waves brushed up to his knees now, careful to avoid his wings. The touch wasn’t harsh or dragging, it was patient, soft, like the sea itself was trying to whisper, I'm here. I’m still here.

“Uncle Seidon,” Hermes choked out, voice trembling. His hands shook as he pressed them against the sand, feeling the weight of everything settle into his bones. The loss, the longing, the sharp ache of separation. He had been left behind, thrown from Olympus, left to fend for himself in a world that had moved on without him. But Poseidon…Poseidon had stayed. Not physically, not with arms to hold him or a voice to comfort him, but the sea had stayed. The ocean had been with him, curling around his ankles, brushing against his wings, whispering his name through the waves. He had been there.

Hermes collapsed back into the sand, clutching the robe tighter, his wings trembling as he curled into himself. The waves continued their gentle rhythm, washing over his legs and back, warm and steady. His breath came in ragged bursts, but it was easier now, less jagged, soothed by the gentle embrace of the sea. He let himself be held by the water, let it cradle him, let it stay.

“Hermes!”

The voice was distant, muffled by the roar of the waves. Hermes didn’t flinch, didn’t react. He only burrowed further into the robe, the scent of Tiresias grounding him, the touch of the water holding him steady. He wasn’t ready to leave, not yet.

“Hermes!” the voice came again, clearer this time. Footsteps thudded against sand, hurried and frantic. He felt the vibrations before he registered the shadow that stretched across him.

“Hermes.”

It was Apollo, voice thick with relief and just the faintest tremor of fear. Hermes barely blinked, his gaze still locked on the water swirling around him. The waves lingered, curling a bit tighter around his legs as if to protest his rescue.

But then there were hands, warm and solid, gripping him gently but firmly. “Hermes,” Apollo whispered again, his voice cracking. “Gods above, we thought…we thought you were,” His voice broke, and he pulled Hermes into his arms, pressing him tight against his chest.

Hermes barely registered it, his eyes still fixed on the ocean, on the way the water ebbed and flowed around Apollo’s ankles now, swirling almost thoughtfully. His wings twitched against Apollo’s grip, but he didn’t fight it. He just let himself be held, feeling the sobs return, clawing their way up his throat, raw and broken.

“It’s okay,” Apollo whispered, voice rough but steady. He cupped the back of Hermes' head, holding him closer. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Hermes shook his head, the words tumbling out unbidden. “He stayed with me,” he murmured, voice fragile and cracked. “He stayed with me, Polly.”

Apollo stilled, his grip on Hermes tightening. “Who?” he asked softly, voice gentle. “Who stayed with you?”

Hermes' gaze drifted back to the sea, to the waves that curled just slightly, like they were brushing against him one last time before retreating. “Uncle Seidon,” he whispered, his eyes stinging with fresh tears. “He stayed. All night, he stayed.”

Apollo’s breath hitched, and he pulled Hermes tighter, almost cradling him now. “I know,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I know, Herms.” His hand brushed through Hermes' hair, fingers slipping around his head wings with delicate care. “You’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.”

Hermes broke, sobs ripping from his chest as he curled into Apollo, clutching at him like he might vanish at any second. Apollo held him, swaying just slightly, whispering soft reassurances against his hair, brushing his fingers through the tangled strands.

It wasn’t until footsteps approached, soft and hurried, that Hermes looked up, his eyes swollen and rimmed with red. Tiresias’s voice was the first he heard, breathless and cracking with relief. “Hermes,” they whispered, voice trembling. “Oh, gods, Hermes.”

Hermes barely had time to react before Tiresias joined the embrace, their hands cupping his face, brushing over his wings, grounding him. “You’re okay,” Tiresias whispered, voice full of reverence. “You’re safe.”

Hermes shuddered, his hands fisting tighter in Apollo’s tunic. “I just wanted to…I just wanted to talk to him,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I just wanted to talk.”

Tiresias brushed their thumb over Hermes' cheek, wiping away the tear tracks. “And he listened,” they murmured, voice soft and gentle. “He listened, little bird. He heard you.”

Hermes crumbled, letting himself be held by the two of them, letting the sea swirl around him one last time before retreating back into the waves, leaving only damp sand and scattered shells in its wake.

And somewhere, far beyond the horizon, a god of the sea bowed his head, whispering soft promises to the tide.

Notes:

Y'all better be ready for next chapter (probably coming either tonight or tomorrow) cause someone finally says something…you'll see what I mean. >:)

Anywhoozle. Hope you enjoyed! Take care my friends! Drink some water, eat some food, take your meds. And get some sleep tonight if you can.

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 68

Summary:

Hehehe. Someone's finally fed up with Zeus's bs and says something about it.

The walk back was slow and gentle, Tiresias’s hand never once leaving Hermes'. The prophet’s grip was steady, grounding, every brush of their thumb over Hermes' knuckles a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Apollo walked a few steps ahead, casting worried glances at Hermes every now and then.

Hermes didn’t speak, his eyes fixed downward, wings drooping heavily at his ankles and head. His fingers clutched Tiresias’s robe with white-knuckled tension, and his breaths came in shallow, unsteady puffs. Every now and then, Tiresias would squeeze his hand just a bit tighter, murmuring soft reassurances that rumbled low and steady in their chest.

As they approached the palace, the tension in Hermes' frame only grew, his grip tightening, his wings fluttering faintly. Tiresias slowed his pace, turning slightly to face Hermes. “Little bird,” they murmured gently, voice a whisper against the hush of the wind. “I’m right here. They’re just worried about you.”

Apollo murmured a soft, “I’ll go ahead.” And disappeared into the palace.

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes flickering to the entrance, where shadows moved anxiously behind the columns. He took a shaky breath, his wings giving a faint tremor. “What if…what if they’re mad at me?” he whispered, voice cracking on the last word. His gaze dropped back to the ground, and his hands flexed nervously at his sides. “I-I didn’t mean to scare anyone. I just,” He swallowed, voice breaking. “I just wanted to talk to him.”

Tiresias’s hand cupped the side of Hermes' face, thumb brushing over his cheek with infinite tenderness. “They’re not angry,” they murmured, their voice a low hum of certainty. “They’re worried. You scared them, little bird. But that just means they love you.” Their thumb continued its gentle path, brushing away the faint dampness still clinging to Hermes' cheeks. “And you are so loved, Hermes. So loved.”

He shuddered out a breath, leaning just slightly into the touch. “Okay,” he whispered, voice fragile but resolute. “Okay.”

Together, they took the final steps up the path, Tiresias’s hand firm and steady in his own. The great doors opened slowly, creaking with age, and they stepped into the entryway where soft candlelight flickered against the walls.

Penelope was the first to see them. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh, Hermes!” she exclaimed, voice trembling with relief. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she took a step forward, then another, before Odysseus’s hand settled gently on her shoulder. She glanced back at him, his eyes steady and grounding, and she stopped, nodding once.

Hermes flinched at the sound of his name, instinctively curling further into Tiresias’s side. His wings shuddered, brushing faintly against Tiresias’s legs. He lowered his gaze to the floor, shoulders hunching as if bracing for impact. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I didn’t mean to,” He swallowed hard, his hands trembling at his sides. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence where the air grew heavy with unspoken emotion. And then Tiresias’s arms wrapped firmly around him, drawing him closer, tucking Hermes against his chest with a tenderness that felt like safety itself. “It’s alright,” Tiresias murmured, voice low and steady. “You’re here. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Hermes' breath hitched, and he pressed his face further into the crook of Tiresias’s neck, his wings fluttering weakly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice muffled by the fabric of Tiresias’s robe. “I’m sorry.”

Penelope stepped forward then, her voice soft and warm. “Hermes, dear,” she murmured, her tone gentle and soothing. “You’re alright. That’s what matters.” Her hand came up to press softly against his back, the touch light and grounding. “We were just worried, is all. We just wanted you safe.”

Hermes trembled, his hands tightening in Tiresias’s robe. “I didn’t mean to disappear,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I just, I just needed,” He couldn’t finish the thought, the words slipping away like sand through his fingers.

Penelope’s hand smoothed in soft circles over his back, her eyes shimmering with understanding. “We know,” she whispered. “And we’re here now. You’re home.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his wings giving a faint flutter. He nodded, though his grip on Tiresias didn’t loosen. “I’m sorry,” he murmured one last time, voice soft and tremulous.

Tiresias leaned down, their lips brushing gently against his temple. “You’re safe,” they whispered, voice firm and grounding. “You’re home.”

Behind them, Apollo stepped forward, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’m glad you’re okay, Herms,” he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly. He stepped closer, resting a hand gently on Hermes' back. “Next time, just tell me, okay?” His voice was warm, understanding. “You don’t have to run off alone. Not ever.”

Hermes swallowed hard, nodding against Tiresias’s shoulder. “Okay,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Okay, Pollo.”

Athena’s voice was the next to break the silence, strong and sure. “We’re not going anywhere,” she said, her tone a promise. “We’re right here. All of us.”

Hermes nodded again, his wings fluttering weakly at his ankles. He took a shuddering breath, pulling back just enough to glance up at his family, his family, and his eyes shone with something raw and tender. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Thank you for staying.”

Apollo smiled softly, his hand never leaving Hermes' back. “Always, Little Wing. Always.”

Hermes sniffled, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looked up at Tiresias then, his eyes filled with something fragile and bright. “Can we, can we go lie down?” he asked softly, voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m…I’m tired.”

Tiresias nodded gently, brushing a thumb softly over Hermes' cheek. “Of course, little bird,” they murmured, their voice full of reverence. “Let’s get you settled.”

As Tiresias led Hermes away, Apollo, Athena, Penelope, and Odysseus watched with quiet relief, their expressions soft and steady. And as Hermes disappeared around the corner, wrapped in the safety of Tiresias’s arms, there was a sense of peace that settled over the room, a gentle sigh of relief.

And outside, the sea lapped quietly at the shores of Ithaca, whispering promises of comfort and safety, a reminder that family, no matter the distance, was always listening.

~~~~

The walk back was slow and measured, Tiresias’s arm never once leaving Hermes' side. When they approached the main hall, Hermes paused, his wings giving a faint flutter. “Can…can we go to the parlor instead?” he whispered, voice fragile and trembling. His eyes flickered to the staircase that led to the sleeping quarters, but he shook his head. “I just…I don’t want to be alone. And maybe, if they want, then they can join.” His gaze dropped to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the edge of Tiresias’s robe.

Tiresias’s hand came up, brushing gently over Hermes' hair, thumb smoothing down a stray curl. “Of course, my love,” he murmured, voice a soft, grounding hum. “We’ll go to the parlor.” His hand squeezed gently, a promise of safety and understanding.

Hermes let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, his wings settling just slightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking just a bit.

The parlor was quiet and warm, the light spilling in through the arched windows in soft, dappled hues. Tiresias guided Hermes to one of the larger couches, settling him down with infinite care. Hermes barely registered the motion before his body seemed to fold in on itself, curling up on his side, his head resting gently on Tiresias’s lap. His wings fluttered once, then stilled, the tension slowly bleeding from his frame.

Tiresias’s hands found their way to his head wings, brushing gentle paths along the feathers, smoothing them down with practiced ease. Hermes' breath evened out almost instantly, and before long, his eyes slid shut, his hands fisting lightly in the edge of Tiresias’s robe. “M’kay,” he mumbled, voice already slipping away. “M’kay, Starlight.”

Tiresias smiled, their hand never stopping its gentle rhythm. “I’m right here, little bird,” they whispered, voice full of reverence. “I’m right here.”

It didn’t take long for Apollo to find them. His steps were light, careful, but there was no mistaking the relief that washed over his features when he stepped into the parlor. His eyes softened, gaze sweeping over Hermes' still form, the way his wings lay draped over Tiresias’s lap, the slow, even rise and fall of his breathing.

Apollo padded over, settling carefully at the edge of the couch by Hermes' feet. He reached out, brushing a hand gently over Hermes' ankle wings, fingers smoothing down the feathers with practiced grace. He worked in silence for a moment, eyes focused and expression steady. Then, without looking up, he murmured softly, “Can you preen his head wings? He’ll hate it if he wakes up and there’s sand in them.” He glanced up then, his gaze meeting Tiresias’s. “I’ve got his ankles.”

Tiresias nodded, their hands resuming the soft preening of Hermes' head wings. Their fingers moved carefully, brushing away the faint traces of sand that had lingered in the feathers. Hermes shifted slightly in his sleep, his brow furrowing for the briefest of moments before his expression settled back into calm.

For a long while, there was only the soft rustling of feathers, the quiet hum of the breeze whispering against the window panes. Then Tiresias spoke, his voice gentle and sincere. “Thank you,” he murmured, his hands still moving with gentle care. “For finding him.”

Apollo’s hands stilled for a moment, his expression softening. He shrugged, but the motion was tender. “I figured he’d be back at the beach,” he replied, voice hushed. His fingers resumed their gentle work, smoothing down the delicate feathers of Hermes' ankle wings. “He was there yesterday, with me and Athena.” He paused, his gaze flickering over Hermes' sleeping face. “Poseidon reached out best he could. That was our ‘family business.’”

Tiresias’s hands hesitated just slightly, their gaze sharpening. “Poseidon?” they echoed, voice full of gentle curiosity.

Apollo nodded, his hands never faltering in their careful work. “He can’t come. Not with Zeus watching.” His eyes flickered to the window, almost instinctively. “But the sea is not controlled by Zeus. So he did what he could. He sent gentle tides to remind Hermes that he’s not forgotten.” His hands moved with practiced grace, untangling the smallest feathers with a tenderness that spoke of deep familiarity. “Hermes was so happy to feel it. To feel that connection again.”

Tiresias listened intently, his hands still working through Hermes' head wings, smoothing out each feather with care. “I never knew Poseidon and Hermes were close,” they murmured.

Apollo huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “They weren’t. Not really.” He paused, his hands brushing over the last of the sand clinging to Hermes' feathers. “Hermes was too tethered to the sky. The winds and the clouds, that was his domain. The sea was always something distant, something foreign.” His voice softened, fingers still smoothing over Hermes' ankle wings. “But, gods, you should have seen the seas after he was cast out.”

Tiresias’s hands stilled, their brow furrowing just slightly. “What do you mean?” He asked softly.

Apollo swallowed, his hands still brushing over the feathers with infinite tenderness. “Poseidon was furious. I mean, he’s still furious.” His gaze flickered to the window again, as if expecting the tides to surge at the mention of the god. “It was like…like he wanted to pull Olympus right into the sea.” He shook his head, a soft, mirthless laugh slipping from his lips. “I’ve never seen him so angry. Not even when he fought with Odysseus.” His eyes drifted back to Hermes, softening. “That's why he’s reaching out now. Because he couldn’t before. Zeus watches all of us too closely. But now he knows Hermes is here, away from Olympus. Away from Zeus.” His hands stilled over Hermes' feathers, gaze softening. “He’s trying. In whatever way he can.”

Tiresias’s hands moved slower, more reverently over Hermes' head wings, their expression thoughtful and steady. “And Hermes?” they murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Does he, does he know?”

Apollo’s gaze dropped to Hermes' face, the softness of his features in sleep, the way his wings fluttered faintly with each exhale. “I think he’s starting to,” Apollo replied, his voice cracking just slightly. “I think he’s starting to realize how much we all…how much we all love him.” His fingers brushed softly over Hermes' ankle wings one last time, and then he settled back, his gaze never leaving his brother’s face. “It’s just going to take some time.”

Tiresias’s hands stilled, and they leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss to Hermes' brow, voice barely a breath. “That’s alright,” they whispered, their hand brushing once more over his feathers. “We have all the time in the world.”

Apollo smiled, his eyes glimmering with something raw and unyielding. “We do,” he agreed, voice barely more than a breath. “We really do.”

The room fell into a gentle silence, filled only with the soft sound of Hermes' breathing.

~~~~

The doors to the throne room burst open in a violent flurry. Zeus looked up from where he sat, droplets of water spraying onto him.

“Brother,” he said, nodding his head in greeting. Poseidon frowned.

“You’re a damn fool, Zeus.” The sea god’s voice was low, dangerous. His trident, still slick with seawater, dripped steadily onto the pristine floor. Zeus rolled his eyes, reclining back against his throne.

“By Olympus, brother, if you’re here talking about the exile, I’ll–” He was cut off by a low rumbling, the floor beneath him trembling just slightly. Like the ocean itself had snarled from beneath the marble.

“You’d best mind your tongue, Zeus. That ‘exile’ is my nephew. And,” Poseidon’s eyes flashed, “your son.” 

Zeus sighed, waving a dismissive hand. “He is not my son right now. He will be once he’s reclaimed his place among us, but until then, he is not.” He leaned forward, elbows resting lazily on his knees. “And I don’t need you storming into my halls, throwing a tantrum over my business.”

“You’re heartless, brother. Absolutely heartless. You are not acting as a king. You are acting like a toddler!” Poseidon shouted, his grip on his trident tightening.

His voice dropped to a whisper, cold and biting. “And your business?” he seethed, each word dripping with barely-contained rage. “I’ve seen what you’ve done, brother. How you stripped him of his wings, cast him out like he was nothing.” He took a step forward, the water on the floor creeping out in small tendrils, licking at the edges of Zeus’s throne. “Do you think the world didn’t feel it? Do you think I didn’t feel it?”

Zeus raised a brow, unbothered. “You’ve always been too soft, Poseidon. Too sentimental.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The boy will return when he’s ready. Until then, he’s nothing but an immortal with a title he can no longer claim.”

Poseidon’s eyes flared with divine light, and the walls trembled. “The tides mourn him,” he snarled, voice cutting through the space like a blade. “The rivers ache for him. Even the wind that once carried him whispers his name. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, brother? You’re too high up on your throne to hear the earth crying.”

Zeus scoffed, waving him off. “Spare me your dramatics. The world moves on.”

Poseidon’s eyes darkened, his grip on the trident tightening further. “You call me soft,” he murmured, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “But I am not blind. You think this throne protects you? You think your precious lightning will hold me back if I choose to take what is mine?”

Zeus’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You forget your place, brother.”

Poseidon stepped forward, the seafoam following him, spreading out in gentle waves, pooling around Zeus’s feet. “No,” he whispered, his voice the rumble of the ocean’s depths. “You forget yours.”

The air crackled with tension as Poseidon took another step forward, the wet trail of seawater hissing as it evaporated against the pristine marble floor. His trident, still dripping with saltwater, tapped against the stone with each deliberate step, the sound echoing ominously through the vast hall.

Zeus raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his throne as if entirely unbothered. His fingers drummed lazily against the gilded armrest, sparks of electricity flickering at his fingertips. "I’m not going to sit here and entertain your dramatics, brother," he sneered. "Hermes' exile was justified. He broke our laws."

Poseidon’s eyes darkened, the sea roiling behind them, tempestuous and unyielding. "Laws?" he spat, voice laced with venom. "Tell me, Zeus. Was it your so-called laws that left him to wander alone? To shiver in the darkness of Lethe’s banks with no one to hold him? Was it law that made him believe no one would come?" His voice rose, thunderous and unyielding. "I am the god of the seas, the lord of tides, the keeper of storms. I hear every whisper of every wave, every heartbeat of the ocean. And last night," his voice cracked, but he pushed forward, stronger, louder, "Last night, Hermes wept at my shore."

Zeus’s hand stilled, his gaze sharpening, but he remained silent.

Poseidon stepped forward, unrelenting. "He came alone, Zeus. Alone. Not a whisper of prayer to you or to me or to anyone. He wept into the sands, clutching a robe that was far too big for him. He spoke to the waves because he knew that they, at least, would listen. And I was there," his voice dropped, a growl simmering beneath the surface. "I was there, right beneath the tides, watching my nephew break."

Zeus’s jaw tightened, a flicker of something indiscernible flashing across his eyes before it was buried beneath a mask of indifference. "Hermes made his choice," he replied, his voice icy and unyielding. "He meddled. He intervened where he should not have. The punishment–"

"The punishment," Poseidon interrupted, his voice rumbling like an oncoming wave, "was cruelty. It was not justice. It was a display of power. Your power. You think you’re the only one who rules, brother? That your hand is the only one that shapes this world?" His grip tightened on his trident, and the air grew heavy with the scent of salt and storm. "I felt his pain in the waves. I heard it in the crash of the tides. I saw it in the way the ocean recoiled, as if the very waters themselves mourned him."

Zeus scoffed, though the gesture lacked its usual bite. "The boy wept. So what? He’s immortal, Poseidon. He’ll get over it."

Poseidon’s knuckles whitened around his trident, the metal groaning under the force of his grip. "You didn’t see him," he whispered, voice dropping to a low, dangerous hum. "You didn’t see the way he clutched that robe as if it were the only thing tethering him to this world. You didn’t see the way he whispered into the waves, not with hope but with resignation. He didn’t call for help, Zeus. He didn’t call for me, for Apollo, for Athena, not even for his mother."

Zeus’s eyes flickered. "And why does that matter?"

"Because," Poseidon said, voice cracking with raw, unrestrained grief, "he didn’t call because he knew. He knew none of us could come. Not with your damned rules. Not with your chains binding us to your will." His voice dropped, heavy with sorrow. "He didn’t call because he didn’t believe we would answer."

The room went silent. Heavy. Suffocating.

Poseidon’s eyes flared with raw fury, and the air began to taste of brine. "Your rules kept me from him last night, Zeus. Your rules made me watch from beneath the waves as my nephew wept into the sands, clutching at memories because he had nothing else." He took a step forward, the tide surging in his wake. "That boy is your son. Your blood. And you left him there."

Zeus’s eyes narrowed, but Poseidon pressed on, voice hardening like the rush of a tidal wave. "But I will not." His grip tightened on his trident, and the water at his feet began to rise, swirling, churning with unyielding ferocity. "Not anymore. If he calls for me, I will answer. Your laws be damned."

Thunder cracked outside, shaking the foundations of Olympus, but Poseidon did not flinch. He stared Zeus down, unyielding. "If he calls, I will answer," he repeated, voice a whisper of a promise, etched in the salt and foam of every tide. "Because I am his uncle. And I will not let him break alone. Because that is what family is."

Zeus remained silent, the sparks at his fingertips flickering out, but his gaze never left Poseidon's. A war waged in his eyes, but he kept his expression neutral.

Poseidon’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly, the water ebbing back down to his feet. He took one last step back, his trident clanging against the marble. "I am not your servant, Zeus," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "And Hermes is not your pawn. Next time he calls, you’d better pray I’m the one who answers.

Zeus’s gaze darkened, thunder crackling in the distance. “If you’re finished, Poseidon, I suggest you leave before you regret this little outburst.”

Poseidon tilted his head, eyes flashing with ancient power. “This is not an outburst, brother. This is a promise.” His voice dropped to a whisper, colder than the deepest ocean trench. “The next time you decide to throw away your children, don’t be surprised when someone else decides to pick up the pieces.”

With that, the sea god turned, the water receding with him, pooling around his feet before evaporating back into mist. He didn’t look back as he strode from the throne room, the heavy doors crashing shut behind him, leaving Zeus alone with the echoes of the waves.

~~~~

The room was warm and quiet, sunlight pooling through the open windows and casting long shadows over the polished stone floor. The scent of thyme and lavender drifted on the breeze, mingling with the soft crackle of the fire in the corner. Hermes stirred slowly, consciousness pulling him up from the depths of sleep inch by inch, his body reluctant to wake from the cocoon of warmth wrapped around him. He felt safe. Protected. Anchored.

The first thing he registered was the gentle rhythm of fingers threading through his hair. Soft, grounding, a touch that spoke of familiarity and affection. Tiresias. He knew that touch anywhere. Hermes tilted his head just slightly, leaning into the fingers that smoothed over his head wings with infinite care. A soft hum escaped him, and he burrowed deeper into the warmth around him, the familiar weight of Tiresias’s arm grounding him.

A chuckle floated over from the side, light and teasing. “I told you he’d wake up as soon as you started fussing with his wings,” Athena’s voice came, smooth and confident. Hermes cracked one eye open, blinking against the sunlight filtering in through the parlor windows. He looked up to find her settled near his feet, her legs crossed elegantly, fingers brushing over the end of her spear. She caught his gaze and smirked. “Told you.”

A grin appeared just beside her. Apollo was perched on the arm of the couch, one leg thrown casually over the edge, his hand resting lightly on Hermes' ankle wings. His fingers toyed absently with the feathers, straightening them with the care of someone who had done it a thousand times before. “Well, you finally decided to join us in the land of the living.” He leaned down, flicking a stray curl away from Hermes' face. “We were starting to think you’d hibernate.”

Hermes blinked again, the haze of sleep fading as he glanced around the room. It wasn’t just Apollo and Athena. It was all of them. Penelope was seated by the window, her hands working deftly on some embroidery, though her eyes flickered up the moment Hermes stirred. She offered him a soft, motherly smile, nodding in his direction. Odysseus stood near the hearth, his hands folded over his chest, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Telemachus lounged on the floor, arms crossed behind his head as he stretched out, looking utterly at ease.

They were all there.

Hermes blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He glanced back up at Tiresias, whose fingers never stopped their soothing rhythm through his curls. “What…what’s going on?” he murmured, voice still heavy with sleep.

Tiresias smiled, their thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. “You didn’t think we’d just leave you, did you?” Their voice was soft, tender. “Not after this morning.”

Hermes swallowed, his wings giving a tiny flutter. “I, I didn’t think,” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over the room again, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re all…you’re all here.”

Apollo rolled his eyes dramatically. “Of course we’re here, Featherbrain. Where else would we be?” He leaned forward, pressing a hand gently over Hermes' ankle wings to still their nervous fluttering. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Athena’s expression softened just a bit, her eyes gentling. “Not this time,” she murmured, voice just above a whisper. “We’re staying.”

Hermes swallowed hard, his eyes glimmering with something raw and vulnerable. His hands fisted slightly in the fabric of Tiresias’s robe, and he turned his gaze back up to Tiresias, whose expression was nothing but warmth and understanding. “Starlight,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Did, did you all–?”

“Of course,” Tiresias said softly, fingers sweeping back through his hair with infinite care. “I told you before, little bird. You’re not alone anymore.” His hand slipped down to cup the side of his face, brushing a thumb over the faint traces of salt still clinging to his cheek. “And you never will be.”

Hermes blinked rapidly, his wings fluttering weakly at his ankles. He turned to look back at the room, the disbelief still etched into his features. “You…you’re really not leaving?” His voice cracked, just slightly. “You’re all…you’re all staying?”

Odysseus stepped forward then, his footsteps steady and sure. He knelt down, coming eye to eye with Hermes, and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Family doesn’t leave,” he said simply, his voice rough with emotion. “Not when it matters.”

Telemachus, ever the disruptor of tension, popped up from his place on the floor, stretching his arms over his head. “And you better get used to it,” he announced with a grin. “Because if I catch you sneaking off again, I’m tackling you before you even make it past the garden.”

Penelope laughed, shaking her head fondly. “Telemachus, you could hardly tackle him if you tried.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Apollo chimed in, grinning. “With enough practice, he might get lucky.” He ruffled Telemachus’s hair, earning a squawk of protest and a playful shove.

Hermes watched them with wide eyes, his hands still fisted in Tiresias’s robe. “You’re really…you’re really not leaving?” he whispered again, voice fragile.

Athena’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. “We’re not leaving, Herms,” she said, voice softer than it had been all morning. “Not now. Not ever.”

Hermes stared at him for a long moment, his gaze flickering back to Apollo, who gave a warm smile. And then, his gaze shifted to Penelope and Odysseus, to Telemachus, who looked up at him with such fierce loyalty it nearly broke his heart.

His breath came out in a soft, trembling exhale, and he leaned back into Tiresias’s chest, his wings curling closer to his body as if to shield him from the overwhelming wave of emotion threatening to spill over. “Okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Okay.”

Tiresias’s hand resumed its gentle path through his hair, their voice a soft hum against his ear. “You’re home,” they whispered. “And you’re not alone.”

Notes:

Another turning point chapter! Aaaaaaand be ready for the next chapter cause something else pretty big happens. I think. If I'm thinking of the right chapter anyways. Oh well.

Hope you enjoyed this one! I'll see you with another update later this week!

Until then, take care of yourselves! Eat food, drink water, touch grass, you know. Good things. You deserve it!

Love y'all! <3
Kari

Chapter 69

Summary:

Light angst, but its a turning point chapter.

The next few days passed in a blur of warmth and laughter, the heavy shadows that had loomed over Hermes began to thin, replaced by something softer, lighter. Ithaca seemed to breathe with him, the olive trees swaying gently in the breeze, the waves lapping tenderly at the shore as if whispering soft promises of peace.

Hermes found himself settling into the rhythm of the days, waking in the mornings curled up against Tiresias’s chest, their hand brushing soft patterns along his back, whispering sleepy greetings that always made Hermes smile. He would blink blearily up at them, wings giving soft, happy flutters, and Tiresias would chuckle softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before murmuring, “Good morning, little bird.”

Their mornings were slow, unhurried. Tiresias would always tug him closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses to his hair, his temple, his cheeks, anywhere he could reach. Hermes would always melt, his wings fluttering unconsciously, nestling further into their arms. They would lay there for a while, the morning sun spilling in through the window, neither one rushing to leave the sanctuary of their shared warmth.

When they did rise, Hermes would dart through the halls, light and unburdened, his laughter ringing out like music. Telemachus was always the first to intercept him, often launching a playful attack the moment Hermes rounded the corner. Hermes, never one to back down from a challenge, would throw himself into the chaos, the two of them tumbling over the polished stone floors in a tangle of limbs and feathers.

“Telemachus!” Penelope’s voice would ring out, exasperated but fond. “The floors are not a battlefield!”

“It’s not a battlefield!” Telemachus would call back, locking Hermes' arm in a mock hold. “It’s training!"

Hermes would cackle with delight, flipping the young prince easily and pinning him to the ground. “You call this training?” he’d taunt, wings fluttering in triumph. “I’ve had harder fights with my reflection.”

Telemachus would scowl dramatically, squirming against the hold. “One day, you’re going down, Hermes!”

Hermes would lean in, eyes glimmering with mischief. “I’d like to see you try, little trickster.”

The sound of their bickering usually drew Apollo and Athena from wherever they’d been lingering, the two gods rolling their eyes fondly before joining in on the antics. Apollo, ever the instigator, would join Telemachus’s side, claiming that it was unfair for the young prince to fight a god alone.

Athena, on the other hand, would merely watch with the faintest trace of a smile, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the archway. “I can’t tell if you’re training or just rolling around like fools,” she’d say dryly, though her eyes shone with unmistakable warmth.

Apollo would flash her a grin, pinning Hermes by the shoulders. “Bit of both, I think.”

Hermes would flail dramatically. “This is mutiny! I demand a fair trial!”

“You’ll get a trial when you stop getting pinned by a mortal and a music god,” Athena would snort, shaking her head.

Hermes would stick his tongue out at her, wings fluttering indignantly. “Just you wait, Thethe. Your turn is coming.”

Her smile would grow just a little. “I’ll be waiting.”

And through it all, Tiresias would listen from the edge of the gardens, a soft smile playing on their lips as the laughter spilling over the courtyard. Sometimes, when the scuffle grew too rowdy, Hermes would break away, darting back towards them, breathless and wild-eyed, his wings fluttering in exhilaration. He’d collapse into their arms, grinning up at them, holding such a lightness that made Tiresias’s heart clench.

“Have you been causing trouble again, little bird?” he’d murmur, fingers brushing tenderly through his curls.

Hermes would laugh, bright and unrestrained. “Only a little bit,” he’d reply, eyes sparkling. “But Telly started it!”

Tiresias would hum thoughtfully, their fingers still moving gently through his hair. “I suppose I’ll have to let you off the hook this time,” they’d whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But only because I’m terribly biased.”

Hermes would giggle, the sound light and free, and his wings would flutter unconsciously. “Good thing you are,” he’d murmur, nestling deeper into their embrace.

The evenings were slower, softer. After the games and the mock sparring, Hermes would find himself tangled up in Tiresias’s arms, their hands brushing gently over his wings, smoothing down the feathers with infinite care. Hermes would sigh contentedly, leaning back against their chest, eyes fluttering shut as Tiresias murmured soft, grounding words against his hair.

Sometimes, Apollo and Athena would join them, curling up on the large cushions spread across the parlor floor. Telemachus would occasionally wander in, sprawling out on his back and tossing grapes into the air, trying to catch them in his mouth while Penelope shook her head with a fond sigh from her seat near the window. Odysseus would sometimes pull up a chair, sharing stories of old battles, of travels long past, his voice lulling them into a gentle, peaceful silence.

Hermes would sit there, nestled against Tiresias’s chest, their hands brushing softly through his wings, and he would look around the room, his heart swelling with something warm and aching. Family. His family. His eyes would flicker to Apollo, who would always be leaning against Athena’s shoulder, the two of them whispering conspiratorially about something or other. His gaze would move to Telemachus, who would always flash him a grin and wave obnoxiously. And finally, his eyes would settle on Tiresias, who would always be watching him with that same soft, steady warmth, their fingers brushing reverently over his wings.

He would take it all in, breath after breath, and he would think to himself that this was home.

~~~~

One evening, Hermes and Tiresias had wandered away from the rest of the family as dinner had drawn to a close, fingers intertwined, walking with unhurried steps through the winding paths of the gardens.

Hermes' wings fluttered softly at his ankles, a gentle hum of contentment settling in his bones. He glanced up at Tiresias, their hand still clasped in his, and his heart squeezed with a tender kind of ache. The prophet’s expression was soft, his head tilted just slightly as if listening to something only he could hear.

They stopped near the olive grove, the branches swaying gently above them, and Tiresias turned to him, his hand never leaving Hermes'. “Here?” Tiresias asked, voice soft and warm.

Hermes smiled, his wings giving a gentle flutter. “Here’s perfect.”

Tiresias’s fingers slid gently from Hermes' hand, tracing up his arm with infinite care before settling on his shoulders. “Come here, little bird,” he murmured, voice dipped in reverence. His hands moved with practiced grace, guiding Hermes down to the grass, their movements slow and deliberate. Hermes let himself be guided, settling back against the softness of the grass, Tiresias settling beside him.

Hermes' wings twitched as he lay back, the coolness of the grass brushing against the delicate feathers, sending tiny shivers up his spine. He barely had a moment to think before Tiresias was there, pressing close, their arm sliding around his waist with the kind of tenderness that made Hermes' breath catch. He felt Tiresias’s hand slide up his side, fingertips brushing against the thin fabric of his tunic, the touch grounding and impossibly gentle.

“Comfortable?” Tiresias asked, voice a whisper against the shell of Hermes' ear.

Hermes nodded, cheeks flushing. “Yeah,” he breathed out, his voice barely more than a whisper. He felt Tiresias smile against his hair, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, letting his wings flutter gently against the grass, feathers brushing over the earth in soft, rhythmic pulses.

Tiresias’s hand moved with infinite care, sliding from Hermes' side to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over the curve of his cheekbone. Hermes blinked up at him, breath catching as he leaned into the touch. “Starlight,” he murmured, voice soft and reverent.

Tiresias’s smile grew, and his fingers brushed through the curls of Hermes' hair, tracing gentle paths from his temple down to the nape of his neck. “I can feel you smiling, little bird,” he murmured, their voice dipping with tenderness. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

Hermes swallowed, his wings fluttering unconsciously. “Just…happy,” he whispered, the word slipping out unbidden. “Just really happy.” He tilted his head up, eyes shining in the dim light. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this.” His wings gave a soft, unbidden flutter, and Tiresias chuckled warmly.

“You deserve this,” Tiresias murmured, his hand brushing over Hermes' hair with infinite tenderness. “Every bit of it.” Their hand moved lower, brushing along the edges of Hermes' head wings with careful reverence, smoothing the feathers with a gentle, grounding touch. Hermes' breath hitched, his eyes slipping shut as he leaned into the touch, his entire body relaxing under Tiresias’s care.

“Feels nice,” Hermes mumbled, his voice slipping into something soft and distant. “Your hands always feel so steady.” His wings gave a soft, fluttering pulse against the grass, a faint tremor that Tiresias’s hands easily soothed with gentle brushes.

Tiresias’s smile grew, and he leaned forward, pressing the softest of kisses to Hermes' temple. “I’m glad,” he whispered, his voice dipping low. “I like being here. With you.” Their hands moved in slow, rhythmic patterns, brushing over Hermes' head wings, careful and deliberate. “I like hearing you breathe.”

Hermes' cheeks flushed, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips. He reached up, fingers brushing over Tiresias’s cheek, trailing down to rest at the curve of his jaw. “I like breathing with you,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. His wings fluttered again, soft and rhythmic, brushing against the grass with every beat of his heart.

Tiresias hummed softly, leaning into Hermes' touch. “You know,” he murmured, voice dipped in something achingly soft, “I can feel the way your wings move.” His fingers brushed gently over Hermes' ankle wings, the touch so light that Hermes barely registered it. “Every flutter. It’s like you’re speaking to me.” They leaned closer, their breath ghosting over Hermes' cheek. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

Hermes blinked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. “What?” he breathed, voice soft and tremulous.

Tiresias’s smile softened, and he leaned in just a bit more, his forehead resting against Hermes'. “You’re saying you’re happy,” he whispered, voice reverent. “That you’re safe. That you’re loved.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings giving a soft, gentle flutter against the grass. “That’s…that’s really what it says?” he asked, voice barely above a breath.

Tiresias’s hand slid gently through his hair, fingers brushing over his head wings with infinite tenderness. “It is,” he murmured. “I hear it every time.” His fingers traced the curve of Hermes' wings, smoothing down the feathers with a touch that was nothing short of reverence. “I hope I get to hear it forever.”

Hermes' eyes burned with the sting of tears, and his hands came up to cradle Tiresias’s face, pulling him down until their foreheads touched. “Me too,” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “Me too, Starlight.”

Tiresias leaned in, his lips brushing against Hermes' in the softest, sweetest of kisses, their breath mingling in the twilight air. Hermes melted, his wings fluttering gently against the grass, a soft whisper of movement that spoke of trust, of love, of something that went beyond words. Tiresias’s hands cradled his face, steady and unyielding, grounding him with every brush of their thumbs against his cheeks.

When they finally pulled apart, Hermes blinked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “I love you,” he whispered, voice soft and reverent.

Tiresias’s smile was a gentle, steady thing, and they brushed another kiss to his forehead. “I love you too, little bird,” they murmured. “Always.”

They stayed like that, tangled up in each other, the stars stretching above them like scattered fireflies, the world around them fading into soft whispers and gentle touches. And for Hermes, it was enough. It was everything.

~~~~

But at night, Hermes would dream. Sometimes he dreamt of good things. Of his siblings. His family here in Ithaca. Of his mother and her home on Mount Cyllene. 

Some nights, however, he dreamt of fear. Of pain. Of Olympus. 

And tonight, Hermes floated, suspended in a haze of nothingness, his wings heavy and limp at his ankles. The silence was deafening, thick and suffocating, like the air itself had been stolen away. He tried to move, tried to shift even an inch, but his body was locked, unyielding, as if bound by invisible chains.

Hermes?

A whisper. So faint it could have been the wind, or maybe just the echo of his own thoughts. Hermes strained, muscles twitching against the invisible bonds. He tried to open his mouth, to call out, but nothing came. Not even a breath.

Little bird?

Tiresias. That was Tiresias. Their voice, warm and grounding, calling to him through the fog. Hermes reached, desperately, fingers scraping through the emptiness, grasping for something to hold onto. But there was nothing, just the void, stretching on forever.

"I’m right here. I’m right here!" He tried to shout, but the words died in his throat.

Hermes pushed forward, or at least he tried. His wings twitched, feathers trembling with strain, and he willed himself to move. Just a little closer. Just a little further.

But then–

Chains. Heavy and unyielding, they materialized around him, snapping around his wrists and ankles, winding tight against his wings. He gasped, feeling the cold bite of iron against his skin, the weight of it dragging him down.

"No," he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. "No, I-I have to."

But the chains pulled, yanking him backwards, dragging him through the abyss. He kicked, thrashed against the iron grip, but the more he fought, the tighter they grew, squeezing the breath from his lungs, pressing his wings tight against his back.

“Bow.”

The voice crashed over him like thunder, reverberating through his bones. Hermes flinched, instinctively folding inward, the weight of the chains pressing him down.

“No,” he whispered, but it was drowned out by the echo of laughter, low and rumbling, stretching through the void like cracks of thunder.

“Bow before your King.”

The chains yanked again, forcing him down, knees slamming into the unyielding surface beneath him. Hermes gasped, the impact rattling up his bones, and the laughter grew louder, mocking, seeping into the marrow of his soul.

“There,” the voice sneered, dripping with cruel satisfaction. “That’s more like it. Where you belong, little messenger.”

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, his wings trembling against the iron shackles. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He could feel it now, the cold marble beneath him, slick and polished, reflecting the thunderous clouds that raged above. He knew this place. Olympus. Zeus’s throne room. The echo of his own breath bounced off the walls, stretching and twisting, swallowed by the vast emptiness.

He tried to lift his head, but the chains tightened, iron bands digging into his flesh, dragging him back down. His forehead brushed the floor, and he felt the sharp sting of humiliation, burning deep in his chest.

I’m right here.

Hermes blinked, breath catching in his throat. He strained, muscles trembling as he tried to lift his head again. Just enough to see. Just enough to know.

“I’m...I hear you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Starlight, I hear you.”

There was no answer.

He was alone.

“See? Pathetic,” Zeus’s voice crooned, dripping with disdain. The air around him crackled with static, the faint scent of ozone whispering through the void. “Still clinging to those who abandoned you. Still crawling back for scraps of affection. You were always so desperate, Hermes.”

Hermes clenched his jaw, trembling against the weight of the chains. “You…don’t…control me…” he whispered, voice raw and thin.

Zeus only laughed. “Don’t I?” he rumbled, the sound shaking the very ground beneath them. “Look where you are. Look at you, groveling at my feet, just as you should have done from the beginning.”

“No,” Hermes whispered, his wings fluttering weakly against the iron that held them. “No, no.”

The laughter grew, swelling to a crescendo that shook the walls, cracked the marble beneath his hands. Hermes flinched, pressing himself lower against the floor as the noise crashed over him, relentless and unyielding.

But then–

A whisper, faint and distant, cutting through the chaos.

I’m done asking, my love. Come back.

Hermes' eyes shot open. “I’m trying.” He whispered into the fog.

Come back. Tiresias’s voice bid again.

Hermes strained against the chains, muscles quivering with the effort. They groaned in protest, metal screeching against itself, but they held firm, keeping him pinned.

Zeus’s laughter stilled. There was silence. Thick. Smothering.

“Don’t you dare,” the god growled, his voice dripping with authority. “Bow.”

Hermes grit his teeth, his hands flexing against the stone floor. “No.”

The chains tightened, the iron bands biting deep into his skin, burning against his flesh. “Bow!” Zeus thundered, his voice cracking like a whip.

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, breath coming in ragged bursts. But Tiresias’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and unyielding.

Come back. Now.

And he did.

His eyes snapped open, and he lifted his head, inch by inch, fighting against the weight of the chains. His eyes met Zeus’s, fierce and unblinking, and the thunder god’s expression flickered, just for a moment.

“You. Don’t. Control. Me.” 

The words left his lips with a force he didn’t know he had. The chains groaned, cracking at the edges, splintering like glass. Zeus’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, his sneer faltering.

“You don’t control me,” Hermes repeated, stronger this time, his wings giving the faintest flutter behind him. The chains cracked, split, shards of iron splintering off and falling into the void. The marble beneath him shattered, lines of light webbing outwards from where he knelt.

And then,

He was falling.

And then,

A breath.

A shuddering, gasping breath that wrenched through Hermes' lungs, dragging him back with a force that nearly knocked him forward. He gasped, hands clutching at the robe wrapped around the prophet holding him, his wings giving the faintest flutter against his ankles. His eyes blinked, rapidly, unseeing for a moment, before they focused, glassy and wild, darting around the room.

Tiresias startled awake. “Hermes?” He murmured, voice scratchy with sleep.

For a moment, Hermes said nothing. He just breathed. Chest heaving. Heart racing. Mind spinning.

“He doesn’t control me,” he whispered. Tiresias’s arms tightened around him a bit.

“No one controls you, sweet bird. Only you.” They murmured, pressing soft kisses atop his head.

Hermes glanced around and saw the others nearby as well. “Oh,” he murmured. They had fallen asleep in the parlor once again. This had become more and more common for the seven of them. Spending the nights together rather than returning to their respective rooms. 

Athena was curled in the corner of the parlor, her body coiled tightly as if even in sleep she was ready to spring into action. Apollo lay stretched out on the floor beside her, head resting against the couch by Hermes’ feet, arm thrown haphazardly over his eyes, chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

Across from him, Penelope, Odysseus, and Telemachus were tangled together on the settee, Penelope’s head resting on Odysseus’s shoulder, Telemachus nestled comfortably between them, his head resting against his father’s chest. A small smile tugged at Hermes' lips; they looked so peaceful, so safe.

Tiresias hummed gently. “We’re all still here,” they reassured. Hermes nodded. 

“Unfortunately,” Apollo groaned from the end of the couch. “You know, some of us are still trying to sleep.” This was met with a soft flick from one of Hermes’ ankle wings. 

“Rude.” The sun god pouted. “The sun has barely risen.”

“You are the sun, Polly. Get up with it.” Hermes teased back.

“Nope. It’s not awake time yet.” And with that, the god shifted, curling closer to Athena, and falling back asleep.

His gaze shifted to the window, where the breeze stirred the curtains ever so gently. His wings gave a faint flutter, and Tiresias’s arm tightened instinctively around him. Hermes stilled for a moment, simply breathing in the scent of cedar and sage, feeling the warmth of Tiresias’s presence seep into him.

But the air inside felt heavy. Suffocating, almost. He swallowed, his eyes drifting back to the window, where the breeze whispered soft promises of open sky and salt air.

“Tiresias?” Hermes whispered, his voice soft and tentative.

Tiresias hummed, their hand brushing gently over Hermes' arm, grounding him. “Yes, little bird?”

Hermes hesitated, his eyes flickering back to the window. “Can we go for a walk? I...I want to feel the wind. The breeze. It’s...” He trailed off, his wings fluttering just slightly. “It’s too heavy in here.”

Tiresias smiled gently, their hand coming up to brush a stray curl from Hermes' forehead. “Of course,” they murmured. “We can go wherever you like.” Their voice was soft and gentle.

Hermes slowly disentangled himself from Tiresias’s hold, his wings fluttering slightly as he rose to his feet. He stretched, his head wings giving a tiny, unconscious flick as he shook the sleep from his bones. Tiresias stood smoothly, extending a hand for Hermes to take.

As he stood, Apollo stirred once more, blinking groggily before shooting upright. “Hermes?” he called softly, voice thick with sleep. “Where are you going?”

Athena stirred as well, her eyes sharp and calculating, scanning the room. “Is everything alright?” she asked, rising to her feet.

Hermes turned, his wings fluttering faintly. “I’m okay,” he promised, his voice soft but firm. “I just...I just want to go for a walk.”

Apollo’s eyes flickered with worry, and he moved to rise fully, but Tiresias held up a hand, their expression calm. “We’ll be fine,” they said gently. “He just needs some air.”

Apollo hesitated, his eyes scanning Hermes' face. “Are you sure?”

Hermes nodded, his gaze steady. “I just need some quiet. But...I’m alright.” His eyes flickered to Athena, who studied him with sharp, unyielding eyes, before finally nodding, settling back into her seat with the grace of a warrior prepared for battle at any moment.

Apollo hesitated one more second, then stepped back, settling beside Athena with a sigh. “Alright,” he said, voice soft. “But be safe. Come back soon.”

Hermes gave him a soft smile, then turned back to Tiresias, who gently squeezed his hand. Together, they stepped out into the morning light.

The gardens were cool and soft with dew, the sun not yet high enough to burn it away. Hermes breathed in deeply, his wings fluttering just slightly. The air smelled like thyme and lavender, the distant call of seabirds reaching them from the cliffs. He squeezed Tiresias’s hand gently, and they walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound the whisper of the wind through the olive branches.

Hermes' eyes flickered toward the path that led to the sea, the pull of the waves gentle and familiar. He hesitated, his wings giving a faint twitch, and Tiresias tilted their head, sensing the shift. “Little bird?” they murmured gently.

Hermes swallowed, his gaze locked on the path. “Can we go to the water?” he asked softly, his voice trembling just slightly. “The...the waves listen. I’d like to speak with them.”

Tiresias’s hand tightened gently around his, and they nodded. “Of course, little bird. Whatever you need.”

They followed the winding path through the garden, the scent of salt growing stronger as they neared the cliffs. 

“I dreamt of Zeus.” Hermes murmured as they walked. Tiresias hummed softly, but didn’t interrupt.

“I was,” Hermes faltered, his jaw clenching as he remembered the nightmare. “Chained. I was chained.” Tiresias stiffened beside him, jaw clenching, but he still didn’t interrupt. “Dragged down to his feet like I never left Olympus. He made me kneel.” The words broke out sharper than he intended, full of bitterness and shame. His wings fluttered once, restless. “And I couldn’t stop it. Not until I heard you.”

Tiresias froze, then smiled. “Me?” 

Hermes turned and faced his prophet. “Yeah, you.” He pressed a soft kiss to Tiresias’s lips. “You told me to come back, so I did. I told him that he didn’t control me anymore. And then the chains broke.”

Tiresias smiled, pulling the messenger in for another kiss. “He does not control you, Hermes. I’m so proud of you.” Hermes grinned, stealing another kiss, and they continued walking, hand in hand.

The waves whispered softly against the rocks below, curling up against the sand with each gentle crash.

Hermes stepped forward, his feet sinking into the sand, wings fluttering just slightly as the wind brushed through his curls. Tiresias stayed a step behind, their hand slipping from his but never straying too far. Hermes took a deep breath, the salt air filling his lungs, grounding him.

He walked closer to the water’s edge, feeling the coolness seep into his toes, the waves brushing up against his ankles. Tiresias stepped forward, their hand resting gently on Hermes' shoulder. Hermes reached out, brushing his fingertips against the surface of the water, feeling it curl around his hand, soft and gentle.

“I fought back,” he whispered to the waves, his voice barely more than a breath. “In my mind...I fought back against him.” He swallowed, his wings giving a faint tremor. “I-I wasn’t strong enough then, but I did now.”

The waves curled up around his fingers, almost like a gentle caress, swirling with deliberate care. Hermes breathed in shakily, feeling the salt sting his lungs. Tiresias’s hand remained steady on his shoulder, grounding him, never once faltering.

“It was scary,” Hermes admitted, his voice trembling. “He...he terrifies me.”

The sea trembled. The waves grew just slightly, crashing harder against the rocks, the current pulling just a bit more fiercely. Tiresias stiffened immediately, their hand clenching gently on Hermes' shoulder. “Hermes,” they murmured, voice low and cautious. “We should step back.”

Hermes shook his head gently, his eyes fixed on the water. “It’s just the sea,” he whispered. “It’s...it’s alright. It won’t hurt me.”

But then the waves swirled, curling tighter around his ankles, almost like hands, cradling him gently. Hermes gasped, his hands reaching down instinctively, fingers brushing over the water’s surface. He sank to his knees, his hands pressed into the sand as the waves rose up to meet him, swirling and curling around his hands, holding him.

“Uncle…?” Hermes whispered, his voice cracking.

The water surged forward, gentle but deliberate, pooling around his hands, brushing against his knees. It felt alive, purposeful. Hermes sucked in a breath, his wings fluttering faintly as the water curled around his fingers, holding him in place.

Tiresias, blind and unyielding, remained steady, their hand a grounding presence on Hermes' shoulder. “Little bird?” they whispered, their voice soft and reverent.

Hermes' eyes glimmered with tears, his hands shaking where they were held by the water. “He’s here,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Starlight, he’s here.”

At that, the waves surged forward, curling higher, the water brushing over his knees, swirling in slow, deliberate patterns. Tiresias stiffened, instinctively leaning forward as if to shield Hermes, but Hermes' hand shot out, stopping him gently.

And then, slowly, deliberately, the water began to rise. Not in a violent crash, not in a surge of fury, but in a slow, deliberate swell. The waves crested and fell away, revealing a tall figure standing in the shallows, his trident resting against the water, the seafoam swirling around his ankles like a whisper of power.

“Little one.”

The voice rumbled through the air, low and resonant, like the tide crashing against the cliffs. It sent a shiver through Hermes' wings, his breath catching in his throat. He blinked rapidly, fingers curling into the sand.

Tiresias stiffened beside him, their hand still firm on Hermes' back. “Hermes,” he whispered, voice breathless and trembling with awe. “Hermes, is that?”

Hermes didn’t answer. His gaze was fixed on the figure before him, on the sea god who stood tall and unyielding, his eyes like the deepest depths of the ocean. Poseidon’s gaze softened, the hard lines of his face easing just slightly. “Hermes,” he murmured again, voice a whisper against the tide.

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, and he shook his head, as if disbelieving. His hands clenched in the sand, wings fluttering faintly. “You’re here,” he whispered, voice cracking. “You…you came.”

Poseidon stepped forward, the water parting smoothly around him, never disturbing the surface. He came to a stop just before Hermes, gaze flickering over the clipped wings, the trembling hands still pressed into the sand. His eyes softened, and his trident shimmered just slightly, the glow of it casting light over the water. “I promised,” he murmured, his voice soft and unyielding. “I told him, I told that bastard, that if you called, I would come.”

Hermes sucked in a shaky breath, his wings giving the barest flutter. “Uncle Seidon?” he whispered, voice trembling.

Poseidon knelt then, water swirling gently around his knees, and he opened his arms, the gesture wide and unyielding. “Come here, Hermes.”

Hermes hesitated, his breath catching, gaze flickering between Poseidon’s outstretched arms and Tiresias’s steady presence at his side. Tiresias, whose hand still rested firm and grounding on his back, leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Hermes' temple. “It’s alright, little bird,” they whispered, voice steady and full of reverence. “It’s alright. I’ll be right here.”

Hermes blinked, breath shuddering out of him, and then, before he could second-guess it, he stumbled forward, sand kicking up in tiny puffs behind him. Poseidon’s arms wrapped around him the moment he was close enough, pulling him tight against his chest, and Hermes collapsed into the embrace with a shuddering breath.

“Oh, little one,” Poseidon murmured, voice thick with emotion. His hands cradled Hermes' back, brushing over the small head wings with infinite tenderness. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been there.”

Hermes just shuddered, his hands fisting in Poseidon’s robes, clutching tight. His wings fluttered weakly, curling slightly at his ankles, but he didn’t move to pull away. Poseidon’s hands brushed over his wings, careful and reverent, and the water swirled up around their ankles, whispering gently against the shore.

Poseidon nodded, and when his gaze returned to Hermes, it was full of nothing but warmth. “You’re safe,” he whispered, voice like the tide. “You’re safe.”

The two stood there, wrapped in the embrace, the sea whispering around their feet, curling protectively around Hermes' ankles, avoiding the delicate wings there, as if even the water itself wanted to hold him.

“Hermes?” The voice came from behind, soft and breathless. Apollo. Hermes pulled back, just slightly, blinking away the tears to see Apollo and Athena standing a few feet away, their eyes wide with disbelief. Athena’s spear hung loosely in her hand, her grip slackened with shock.

Poseidon’s gaze flickered up, locking onto them. He smiled, soft and proud. “You’re standing with him,” he murmured, voice full of reverence. “I’m proud of you both.”

Athena straightened, her grip tightening. “We’ll always stand with him,” she replied, voice steady and unwavering. Apollo stepped forward, eyes shimmering with emotion. Poseidon nodded, his gaze steady. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s good.”

Hermes stepped back from Poseidon’s embrace, wings fluttering, and he turned back to Tiresias, standing just off the sand, head tilted slightly as if listening for movement. Poseidon’s gaze softened, and he stepped forward. “Tiresias,” he murmured, voice full of respect. “Thank you.”

Tiresias stiffened. “For what?” he asked, voice even.

“For caring for him,” Poseidon replied, his voice warm and unyielding. “For keeping him safe. I owe you a debt I can never repay.”

Tiresias’s expression softened, his hand squeezing Hermes' shoulder. “I only did what anyone should,” he murmured.

Poseidon’s eyes gleamed, and he stepped back, turning back to Hermes. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand over Hermes' head, smoothing back his curls. “You are loved, little one,” he whispered, voice cracking. “So loved. Don’t ever forget that.”

Hermes' eyes shimmered with tears, and he nodded, voice trembling. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I won’t forget.”

Poseidon took one last look, his hand lingering on Hermes' head before he stepped back into the waves. The ocean reached for him, curling around his feet, and he began to sink back into the water, the sea reclaiming him.

But just before he vanished, he called out, voice steady and sure. “I will always answer if you call, Hermes. Always.”

And with that, the waves rose, crashing gently against the shore, and Poseidon was gone.

Hermes stood there, wings trembling, eyes locked on the place where the sea still shimmered. He didn’t move, barely breathed, until Tiresias reached out and took his hand. “Come on, little bird,” he murmured, voice soft. “Let’s go back.”

Hermes nodded, wiping his eyes, and turned back toward the path, Apollo and Athena at his sides, Tiresias’s hand still grounding him. And for the first time in a long while, Hermes walked away from the ocean without feeling quite so alone.

~~~~

The sun rose over Ithaca, its silver light spilling through the palace windows as they stepped back inside. Apollo and Athena lingered close to Hermes, their hands never quite leaving his shoulders, their eyes flickering back to him every few moments as if afraid he might vanish. Tiresias kept one hand at Hermes' back, grounding him with gentle pressure, their thumb brushing slow, comforting paths along his spine. Poseidon's presence still lingered like the echo of crashing waves, but the warmth of the palace began to chase away the chill of the sea.

Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus were still curled up in a tangle of limbs on the parlor floor, blankets tossed haphazardly around them. Telemachus’s head rested against his father’s chest, Penelope’s hand draped protectively over his side. The scene was almost heartbreakingly domestic, a picture of peace and safety that Hermes found himself pausing to watch, his wings giving the barest flutter of longing.

Tiresias’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Come on, little bird,” they murmured, their voice soft but steady. “Let’s get you settled.”

Hermes nodded, allowing himself to be led to the edge of the room, just as Penelope stirred, blinking sleep from her eyes. She rubbed at her face, her hair tousled, and glanced up with a sleepy smile. “Did you all go for a walk?” she asked, voice thick with drowsiness.

Tiresias offered a gentle smile. “Just to clear our heads,” they replied, voice smooth and unassuming. “A bit of fresh air.”

Penelope nodded, still rubbing her eyes. “I’m glad. I…I wasn’t sure if you’d get any rest after–”

Hermes stepped forward suddenly, the movement almost startling in its urgency. His wings gave a faint flutter, and he clasped his hands tightly in front of him, his gaze locked onto Odysseus, who was beginning to wake. The king blinked blearily, his hand brushing through Telemachus’s hair as he stretched. His eyes landed on Hermes, softening with a familiar fondness. “You alright, Hermes?” he asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

Hermes hesitated, his breath catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, his wings giving another nervous twitch. Apollo and Athena lingered at his sides, silent but steady, their presence like anchors. Hermes took a step forward, his hands twisted tightly together. “I’m sorry.” Odysseus frowned, but Hermes continued, voice shaking just slightly. His hands twisted tighter, knuckles white. “I-I spoke to him. To Poseidon.”

The room went silent, the weight of his words settling like dust over the air. Odysseus’s expression flickered with surprise, but not quite fear, something softer, something more understanding. He straightened, sitting up fully, Telemachus shifting against him with a soft groan. Penelope’s hand stilled where it rested against her son’s side.

“You…you did?” Odysseus asked carefully, his voice gentle.

Hermes nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor, wings curling slightly inwards. “Yes,” he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “I called for him. I didn’t mean to, I just–” His voice cracked, and Tiresias’s hand came to rest on his back, grounding him. Hermes took a shuddering breath and continued. “He…he came. He held me. He was…he was kind. He said he was proud of me.”

Penelope’s hand came to her mouth, eyes wide with surprise, but Odysseus only listened, his gaze steady and unyielding. Hermes' hands twisted tighter. “I know what he did to you. To your men. I know what he threatened.” His voice wavered, and his eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I know he hurt you. And I-I held him. I let him hold me. I–” His breath hitched, and he looked up, eyes shimmering with raw anguish. “I’m sorry.”

Odysseus watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Hermes felt his wings begin to curl tighter, his chest constricting painfully. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but Odysseus spoke first, his voice low and steady. “Hermes,” he began gently, his gaze softening. “You don’t need to apologize for finding comfort.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his expression tender. “Even if it’s with him.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, and he blinked rapidly, his fingers clenching tighter. “But I-I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to think I’m betraying you. You…you’ve been,” He swallowed hard, his wings trembling at his ankles. “You’ve been a father to me, Odysseus. You’ve shown me what a real father is supposed to be like.” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t quite meet Odysseus’s gaze. “I just…I just don’t want you to hate me.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but it was warm, like sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm. Odysseus’s eyes softened with something fierce and unyielding, and he stood, crossing the short distance between them in three long strides. Before Hermes could flinch or pull back, Odysseus’s hands settled firmly on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Hermes,” he murmured, voice rough and steady. “I could never hate you. Not for this. Not for any of it.” His grip tightened, his hands warm and unyielding. “You are not to blame for the choices of gods. You are not responsible for their actions. If Poseidon offered you kindness, if he gave you comfort,” he paused, his gaze growing softer. “Then I’m glad you found it.”

Hermes' breath hitched, his wings giving a small, trembling flutter. “You, you are?” he whispered, voice fragile.

Odysseus nodded, his hands squeezing gently. “I am,” he murmured. “Because you deserve that, Hermes. You deserve comfort. You deserve family.” His eyes glimmered with something raw and unyielding. “And that will always be more important. My conflict with Poseidon is between me and him, not you.”

Penelope stepped forward then, her hand resting softly on Hermes' back, her eyes shimmering with warmth. “I’m glad you found him, dear,” she said gently. “If he can offer you peace, if he can make you feel safe, then that’s all that matters.” Her smile was soft, a mother’s smile. “You are so loved here. You don’t have to choose. You can have both.”

Apollo stepped up behind Hermes, his hand squeezing Hermes' shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” he murmured. “You don’t have to choose, Herms. Not anymore.”

Athena’s hand settled gently on his back, warm and unyielding. “We’re all here,” she whispered. “And we’re staying.”

Hermes' breath shuddered out of him, and his hands came up to clutch at Odysseus’s arms, grounding himself in the warmth and solidity of his presence. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Thank you.”

Odysseus leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Hermes' head, the gesture paternal and unyielding. “You’re family,” he murmured, voice warm and steady. “And nothing, not gods, not storms, not even the sea, can change that.”

The warmth of the morning sun seeped through the palace windows, casting gentle light over the parlor where they had all settled.

Hermes nestled back against Tiresias, his eyes heavy with lingering exhaustion. Apollo and Athena had taken seats on either side of him, their presence a steadying comfort. Hermes blinked slowly, his wings giving the faintest of flutters as the tension bled from his frame. He glanced at his siblings, a soft, tired smile ghosting over his lips.

Penelope stepped forward, her voice soft and maternal. "I’ll fetch breakfast," she murmured, her hand brushing lightly over Hermes' hair as she passed. "You three just rest for a moment. I’ll be back."

Hermes tried to nod, but the movement barely registered as his eyes fluttered closed. The warmth of the fire, the solidness of Tiresias’s arm around his shoulders, and the familiar scents of Ithaca wrapped around him like a gentle shroud. He shifted just slightly, his head tilting back to rest against Apollo’s shoulder, wings curling in tighter against his ankles.

Apollo’s hand came up instinctively, brushing through Hermes' curls with a tenderness that spoke of lifetimes of habit. "You can sleep," he murmured, voice gentle and warm. "We’ve got you."

Hermes gave a soft, barely-there hum of acknowledgment, and then he was gone—breathing deep and even, entirely relaxed in the comfort of his siblings' presence. Athena reached out, brushing her fingertips over his head wings, careful not to disturb the fragile feathers, her expression softening. "He needs this," she murmured, voice almost a whisper.

Tiresias nodded, one hand still resting on Hermes' arm, their thumb tracing slow, grounding paths along the fabric of his tunic. "He does," they replied gently. "More than anything."

When Penelope returned, her arms laden with trays of fresh bread, olives, and honeyed figs, Hermes was still fast asleep. Apollo’s arm was draped protectively over his shoulders, and Athena sat poised, ever watchful, her hand never quite leaving Hermes' wings. Tiresias gave Penelope a nod of thanks as she set the food down, her smile soft and knowing.

Odysseus joined them soon after, settling beside his wife and helping her arrange the trays. The soft murmur of conversation began to spread as bread was passed around, and Telemachus soon joined, his presence brightening the room with his eager energy.

But as the meal progressed, Odysseus’s gaze drifted back to Hermes, still curled up against Apollo’s side, his breathing soft and steady. The memory of Hermes' words lingered in the back of his mind, unraveling gently with each heartbeat.

You've shown me what a real father is supposed to be.

Odysseus set down his cup, turning to Penelope, his expression caught somewhere between wonder and disbelief. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of something precious. "He…he thinks of me as a father?"

Penelope’s gaze softened, her eyes shining with gentle affection. "Of course he does," she murmured, brushing her hand over Odysseus’s arm. "How could he not? You’ve shown him kindness. You’ve protected him. You’ve welcomed him into our home as if he’s always belonged here." Her smile grew, the light in her eyes sparkling with warmth. "And I daresay, you love him like a son."

Odysseus blinked, the words sinking in slowly, settling into his heart with a warmth that spread all the way to his fingertips. He glanced back at Hermes, still tucked into Apollo’s side, his wings relaxed and soft, his face peaceful in sleep.

"I…" Odysseus started, his voice cracking just slightly. He swallowed, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. "I didn’t know. I didn’t realize…" His gaze flickered back to Penelope. "Do you…do you think I’m good enough? After everything? After all I’ve done?"

Penelope smiled, her hand sliding into his, squeezing gently. "You are more than enough," she whispered. "You are his family. He trusts you, Odysseus. That’s no small thing." Her eyes flickered to Hermes, still slumbering peacefully. "To him, you are home."

Odysseus swallowed thickly, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. He watched as Apollo adjusted slightly, making sure Hermes was still comfortable, his hands gentle and reverent. He saw the way Athena’s hand remained steady, never straying far from her brother’s wings. And he saw Tiresias, sitting just beside, his hand resting on Hermes' arm, a guardian flame that never flickered.

Odysseus breathed out slowly, his hand tightening just slightly in Penelope’s. "Then I’ll protect him," he murmured, voice low and resolute. "For as long as he needs me, I’ll be here."

Penelope’s smile was warm and bright, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I know you will," she whispered. "And so does he."

Together, they watched as Hermes slept, cradled in the arms of his family, a gentle peace settling over the room like sunlight on still water.

~~~~

Now, Hermes dreamed of sunlight.

It poured over him like honey, warm and sweet, softening the sharp edges of memory. He was back in his mother’s cave, the one nestled in the cleft of Mount Cyllene, where the wind whispered gently through the cracks and the sunlight always seemed to find its way in, no matter the season.

The air was fragrant with mountain herbs, thyme and wild mint brushing the edges of his senses. Hermes lay curled on the stone floor, wrapped in the familiar weight of woolen blankets that Maia had woven herself, the edges frayed from years of use. The soft glow of the fire crackled nearby, its warmth seeping into his bones. He knew this place. Knew it in his heart.

He knew, too, that if he listened closely enough, he’d hear her footsteps, light and steady, moving through the entranceway, pausing just before she called his name.

“Hermes.”

He startled, sitting up too fast, wings fluttering wildly at his ankles. The voice was soft and familiar, like the first breath of spring after a long winter. He turned, his breath catching in his chest.

Maia stood at the entrance, her figure framed by the light filtering in from outside. She looked just as he remembered, wild hair curling around her shoulders, eyes sharp and knowing, lips curled into the softest of smiles. Her hands were gentle, folded neatly in front of her, and the sight of her sent a tremor of something soft and aching through his heart.

“Mom?” he whispered, voice cracking. His wings gave a feeble flutter, disbelief threading its way through his words.

Maia stepped forward, her footsteps light against the stone. She knelt in front of him, hands reaching out to cup his face with infinite tenderness. “My boy,” she murmured, her voice a balm to every wound. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, soft and grounding. “My sweet boy.”

Hermes crumbled. He surged forward, whispering a soft, “Mama,” wings fluttering desperately, and buried himself in her embrace. Her arms came around him without hesitation, drawing him in, holding him steady. He shuddered, breath hitching as he clung to her, fingers clutching at the soft fabric of her robes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Maia’s hands smoothed over his back, one drifting up to cradle his head. “Hush now, little one,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Hermes shook his head, pulling back just enough to look up at her. “But I-I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t–”

Her thumb brushed over his cheek, silencing him. “You are enough, Hermes,” she whispered, her voice like sunlight filtering through the clouds. “You always have been. And nothing that man says or does will change that.”

Hermes blinked up at her, eyes shimmering. “But he said I’m not...I’m not his son anymore.”

Maia’s expression hardened, just for a moment, before softening again. She cupped his face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You are mine,” she said firmly, voice like iron wrapped in velvet. “Always mine. That will never change.”

Hermes shuddered out a breath, relief flooding his senses. He leaned back into her touch, wings drooping at his ankles. “I missed you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Maia smiled, soft and warm, and pulled him back into her arms. “I’m right here,” she murmured against his hair. “I’m right here, little one.”

Time bled away in her arms. The fire crackled softly in the background, the scent of thyme and lavender drifting lazily through the space. Hermes breathed it in, memorizing every detail, every heartbeat. He pressed his face further into her shoulder, letting the warmth of her embrace fill the hollows in his chest.

And then, there was movement at the entrance. Hermes blinked, his gaze lifting just slightly over Maia’s shoulder. A silhouette stood in the doorway, framed by sunlight and shadow. She stepped forward, graceful and sure, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Penelope.

Her eyes were soft, a gentle smile curling at her lips as she approached. Maia’s arms loosened, just slightly, allowing Hermes to turn and meet Penelope’s gaze. He blinked up at her, confusion flickering across his features. “Penelope?” he asked softly, his voice uncertain.

Penelope knelt beside them, her hands reaching out to rest gently atop Maia’s. “Hello, Hermes,” she greeted, voice soft and warm. “Is it alright if I join you?”

Hermes swallowed, glancing between the two women. Maia smiled softly, her hand brushing over his curls. “Of course it is, Lady,” she whispered, voice full of tenderness.

Penelope’s hand came to rest on his back, just between his head wings, and the touch was grounding, solid. She smiled at him, eyes shimmering with something gentle and patient. “I’m glad you found your way home, Hermes.”

Hermes blinked, his breath catching in his chest. “Home?” he echoed, voice trembling.

Penelope nodded, her gaze never wavering. “Yes, dear. Home.”

Hermes looked between them, eyes wide and shimmering. Maia’s hand came to rest on his cheek once more, her eyes tender and warm. “Home isn’t a place, my sweet boy,” she whispered, voice cracking just slightly. “It’s where you are loved. And you are so loved.”

The breath hitched in his chest, and he pressed his face back into Maia’s shoulder, one hand reaching out to grasp Penelope’s. She held him steady, her thumb brushing over his knuckles, grounding him.

“I missed you,” he whispered, voice muffled.

Penelope’s hand tightened just slightly. “I’m right here, Hermes,” she murmured, voice like a lullaby. “I’m right here.”

The sunlight faded, slipping through the cracks of memory like dust motes in the air. The warmth of their hands lingered, soft and steady, grounding him in the light of dawn.

~~~~

He woke to the soft murmur of voices, the flicker of sunlight dancing through the open window. The scent of lavender and thyme drifted in on the breeze, mixing with the warmth of the hearth. Hermes blinked, eyes heavy with sleep, and realized he was curled up in Apollo’s lap, his brother's hands idly brushing through his curls, fingers ghosting over his head wings with infinite tenderness.

Apollo’s voice was low, gentle as he spoke with Tiresias and Athena, the words blurring together in a soft hum of familiarity. Hermes didn’t move, not at first. He just breathed in, feeling the warmth of Apollo’s arms around him, the steady thrum of life that pulsed beneath his cheek.

But as the dream faded, as the lingering comfort slipped away, a heaviness settled in its place. Hermes' hands flexed slightly, his wings twitching at his ankles. His thoughts pulled him back, flickering over the dream, over the way Maia’s hand had smoothed through his hair, the way Penelope had cradled his cheek, her voice soft and familiar.

Guilt pooled low and heavy in his stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing it away. It wasn’t fair. Maia was his mother. She had always been his mother. How could he possibly think of anyone else like that? How could he even allow himself to feel that comfort?

Apollo shifted beneath him, his hand pausing for just a moment before resuming its gentle brushing. “Hermes?” he murmured, his voice low and tender. “You awake?”

Hermes didn’t answer, just curled up a bit tighter, pressing his cheek against Apollo’s chest. He wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet.

Apollo didn’t press him, just kept brushing through his curls, humming a soft, familiar tune. Around them, Tiresias and Athena continued to talk quietly, their voices steady and grounding. And Hermes closed his eyes, breathing in the warmth and familiarity of it, wishing for just a little more time to stay here, safe and held, before he’d have to face the rest of it.

He didn’t speak of the dream. Not yet. But it lingered, warm and tender and achingly real, at the back of his mind. And Hermes held on to it, as best as he could.

Hermes stayed nestled in Apollo’s lap, his body relaxed but his mind anything but. Apollo’s hands never ceased their gentle path through his curls, fingertips brushing carefully over his head wings, smoothing away stray strands. The rhythm was soothing, steady and familiar, like the lull of ocean waves against a distant shore.

He could hear the soft murmurs of conversation around him, Athena and Tiresias, their voices low and warm. He could hear Penelope too, her laughter light and easy as she spoke with Odysseus. The sound of it tugged something sharp and aching in his chest, and his wings fluttered faintly, brushing against Apollo’s knees.

He tried not to look, but his eyes drifted despite him, finding her easily among the others. She was sitting cross-legged, her hair loosely braided over one shoulder, hands moving deftly as she smoothed out the hem of a tunic she’d been stitching. The sunlight caught the edges of her hair, shimmering gold in the light, and she laughed again at something Odysseus said, her eyes crinkling with joy.

It shouldn’t have hurt. It shouldn’t have felt like something sharp and raw digging into his ribs. But it did.

He turned back into Apollo’s chest, burying his face in the fabric of his brother’s tunic, wings folding tightly against his ankles. Apollo’s hands stilled for just a moment, pausing as if sensing the shift. “Hermes?” he whispered, voice low and soft. “You alright?”

Hermes didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. His fingers fisted in Apollo’s tunic, knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. Guilt churned low and heavy in his stomach, pooling like molten iron, weighing him down. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the feeling away, but it remained, stubborn and unyielding.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Maia was his mother. She had always been his mother. She had raised him, held him, sheltered him from Olympus’s cruelty for as long as she could. She had loved him in a way that was fierce and unyielding, cradling him close to her heart even when the world threatened to tear him away.

And yet…

Hermes' breath hitched, and Apollo’s hand resumed its careful path through his curls, grounding him, soothing him. “It’s alright, Herms,” Apollo murmured, his voice a thread of warmth. “I’ve got you.”

Hermes swallowed hard, willing himself to speak, to say something, to push through the weight that sat heavy on his chest. But the words wouldn’t come. He stayed curled against Apollo’s chest, breathing in the familiar scent of cedar and sunlight, clinging to the steady rhythm of his brother’s hand smoothing through his hair.

Penelope laughed again, the sound soft and kind, and Hermes flinched, his wings giving a faint flutter against Apollo’s knees.

“You’re safe,” Apollo whispered, his hand pausing to rest against Hermes' head wings, brushing his thumb over the feathers with infinite care. “You’re right here, with us.”

Hermes squeezed his eyes shut, nodding just barely, but he didn’t lift his head. He couldn’t. Not with the weight of it all pressing so heavily on his heart.

So he stayed there, curled up in Apollo’s lap, wings tucked tight against him, fingers clutching Apollo’s tunic. He didn’t look at Penelope again, not yet. He couldn’t. But he stayed, held in the warmth of his brother’s arms, the world soft and distant beyond the safety of that embrace.

Notes:

Hermes is a bit conflicted with Penelope and Maia…things will happen next chapter.

Sorry for not posting until the weekend, the last few days were SUPER busy for me.

Anyways, take care of yourselves! Drink water, eat food, take your meds, go outside! You deserve it.

Love y'all! <3
Kari