Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermes didn’t know his mother’s side of the family tree all that well. What he did know, however, was that Calypso and Hermes were family, one way or another. She was his aunt, in all technicality. Yet, it did not feel that way. Not when she had defiled and terrified one of Hermes’ favorite descendants. Not when that descendant looked so tired and Hermes wanted to do nothing more than coddle him close and guide him back to Ithaca himself. 

Odysseus was alright, Hermes reassured himself. Hermes sat beside him at this very moment, the Winions curled asleep next to their feet or in their laps, the windbag secure and safe. Hermes didn’t know how he would act once he was forced to leave his great-grandson alone. Would he face Calypso in a fit of rage or would he hold back? Spend as much time as he can with Odysseus while possible? Hermes wasn’t sure. But he was a master of improv. He was a liar and a thief and a merchant. He would figure it out at one point or another.

Hermes hummed, stroking Princess’ soft fur. He did not know the full extent of what Calypso had done to Odysseus. He had a rough enough idea, given both her attitude and Odysseus' response to her insistent beggings, and while it was more than enough for Hermes to hate the nymph, he didn’t know everything. And yet, Hermes found that he didn’t want to pry the mortal for information. He just wanted to know if he was alright.

Hermes sighed as he stared into the night sky. The cold breeze ruffled his feathers and his hair. The seven stars twinkled, barely distinguishable from the thousands of other bright lights and colors that dotted Nyx’s blanket. Well, barely distinguishable to everyone else, but him, it seemed. Whenever they were visible, that particular cluster always seemed to catch his eye first.

“The Pleiades– the Seven Sisters. That’s what you're looking at, right?” Hermes turned his head and his focus towards Odysseus, not bothering to feign surprise. It was not a shock that the great tactician managed to piece it together, but it was always interesting as to how. How did his mind function? How did he come to his always correct conclusions? Athena’s chosen were always far and few, but what little there were had always been nothing short of exceptional. Although, Odysseus had almost been far more than simply exceptional. And Hermes couldn’t have been prouder.

“And how did you come to that conclusion, dawling?” Hermes asked with a slight lilt in his voice, only to hint at the fact that Odysseus was correct, although Hermes did not doubt that Odysseus knew that he was correct.

“It’s the Pleiades,” Odysseus said. Hermes felt the muscles in his cheeks tighten, a small smile forming on his face. That was reason enough. “This is the perfect time of the year to see the Sisters,” Odysseus continued, “and I can clearly make out Orion right in front of me.” Odysseus motioned to the sky. “Even if our perspectives are different, we would still see the same stars at the same angle, despite the fact that the stars would likely be at different positions given that we are sitting about a foot apart.”

“I never understood why Orion chases them for all eternity even though his heart yearns for another.” Hermes squinted at the sky. One shined brighter and more consistently than the rest. Hello my little bird, it whispered. Hello Mother, Hermes whispered back. 

Odysseus hummed. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to. Perhaps this is his punishment. So he knows what he has done, regardless if it comes at the expense of the sisters who had sought shelter from his pursuit.”

Princess purred lightly, rubbing her head on Hermes’ chest. Hermes absentmindedly scratched the fur under her chin. “Perhaps…” Perhaps. Hermes remembered those days as if it had taken place just a year ago. Remembered Orion’s foolish and unwavering determination. Remembered his mother’s sad, hurting eyes as she tried to explain to her little bird that she might not see him again. Not for a long, long while. There were times, rarely, where Mother would confide in Hermes when she thought he was asleep. She would hold him close to her chest, her fingers running through his feathers. Hermes had nearly fallen asleep half of the time, but the want to know was far stronger than Hypnos’ tug in those short moments. He could almost feel her touch, even now, all these millennia later.

“My favorite constellation must be Ursa Minor.” Odysseus spoke up. That had come out of absolutely nowhere. But it brought Hermes out of his own laments. It also successfully put an end to the silence that Odysseus likely viewed as ever so slightly unnerving. Hermes blinked. And then burst into laughter.

“Why? Because you're a sailor~?” Hermes poked at Odysseus' ribs (did Calypso feed him? Don’t ask, don’t ask. He’s fine. He’s fine. Was he?), grinning. Odysseus rolled his eyes fondly, lightly shoving Hermes aside (Odysseus was playful with Hermes. Odysseus trusted Hermes. Odysseus never trusted the Gods.)

“It’s because it’s going to get me home. You told me so yourself.” Odysseus said, as if the most simplest thing in the world. And it likely was, to him. “Follow the North Star, no matter how far it takes you.”

“Follow the North Star…” Hermes muttered. “Dawling, did you not have a favorite constellation until now?” Odysseus shrugged.

“I did not have a reason to. Now I do.” Damned strategists. Always needing a reason.

There was a brief period of silence between them for a moment. There was no wind, yet the air was still crisp and cold. The sky was a deep purple. The sea complimented it with a dark blue. Hermes couldn’t tell where the sea ended and the stars began. Huh. When was the last time Hermes had given himself even a fleeting moment to relax? There was that one time with Charon. But that was centuries ago. And that wasn’t even fleeting. That was barely a breathe. A stolen moment. Perhaps it was just after— “Are you familiar with what the name Hermes Argeïphontes entails?” Odysseus raised an eyebrow. His face betrayed no wonder, however. So he did know. Athena had taught him well. Maybe not enough, but she did teach him well.

“I am well aware what it means, slayer of Argus. Why would you bring that up?” Odysseus asked, confused. Hermes let out a shrill laugh.

“Well why do you think, dawling?” Odysseus' breath seemed to hitch ever so slightly. A minute detail that no mortal would ever pick up on. Hermes was no mortal.

“You would- you would do that? For me? ” Odysseus’ voice wavered.

“Of course, dawling! Why wouldn’t I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Odysseus repeated, dumbfounded. What an amusing sight, watching the greatest tactician ever created attempt to calculate the reasoning behind a God's actions, even with what little knowledge he had. Odysseus seemed to come to the realization that if he wanted to understand, he would need to ask. And so ask, he did. Odysseus would never simply chalk something up to the Gods being the Gods. Athena had taught him far better than that, Hermes knew. And Odysseus, much like his mentor, was as stubborn as a bull. Stubborn to the bull. Even if the bull could hurt them. Had hurt them.

“Hermes?” Hermes hummed to let Odysseus know that he had heard him. “Why are you helping me? Your job, I assume, was to just simply send a message to–” Odysseus paused for a moment. Hermes didn’t like the way he paused. Nor how long he paused. Odysseus took a moment, but he ended up finding the word he was looking for, “–her about my release. After all, only the God of Gods can make that decision. That- that is what she told me, at least. You don’t need to be here. I’m sure you have more important needs to attend to.”

Hermes let out a short, half-shocked, half-amused laugh. “Hah! More important needs to attend to? Dawling, you are my top priority! Your entire bloodline is! Your maternal grandfather was the King of Thieves and–” Then Odysseus so rudely cut Hermes off!

“My grandfather was also the man who named me after hate, loss, and grief,” Odysseus grumbled. This mortal was getting far too comfortable opposing Theos. Hermes mused. Not that he minded of course, that simply meant that Odysseus was comfortable with Hermes (and didn’t that realization make Hermes’ golden heart clench. He hadn’t felt this much Storge in a long, long time), but the messenger in him just wanted to get to the damn point. Hermes put his finger to Odysseus' mouth, shushing him.

“Let me finish speaking, dawling. Your grandfather was, not only the King of Thieves, but my son. One of my favorite sons, in fact. A sneaky little bastard. Like grandfather, like grandson, I suppose.” Hermes grinned. “Where do you think you got your affinity to lie and trick, dawling? Though, you are so removed from me that I don’t think your heritage has anything to do with how well you lie. That was all Athena’s doing, dawling! Regardless, we are a family of tricksters through and through! Anticlea had some wonderful escapades in her heyday. And you. ” Hermes didn’t need to continue.

Odysseus inhaled sharply, his posture straightening (Hermes tried his hardest not to fret at the way Odysseus' spine and his ribs jutted out of his skin. His self-restraint was being tested to its limits at the moment. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold himself together). Hermes was quick to realize his mistake. “I apologize,” Hermes rushed to get his words out. “I should not have brought her up! You aren’t as used to death as I!” They sat there in an awkward silence for a moment. Odysseus blinked, confusion clear as day on his face. Then he did something Hermes simply could not expect. An action Hermes could not understand the thought process behind. Odysseus rested his head on Hermes’ shoulder.

Hermes let out a rather embarrassing noise of something in pure shock. It wasn’t a yelp, it was too quiet,  something more akin to a sound a bird would make. Hermes didn’t know if he had ever made a noise like it before. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a god tell me they are sorry, and meant it. ” Odysseus murmured.

Hermes finally comprehended what had happened, for the most part. Hermes slowly brought them closer together so that Odysseus wouldn’t have to lean as much to rest his head. Hermes tentatively lifted his fingers and ran them through Odysseus' hair, his nails lightly scratching his scalp. Odysseus did not flinch, not even slightly, so Hermes tried again. And again. Odysseus seemed to enjoy the action, in fact. Mother glowed brighter than ever, comparable to even Sirius. Some astronomer will lose their mind tonight, with how much Mother was fluctuating right now.

“I do understand how you feel.” Odysseus shifted his head slightly, perhaps to try and look at Hermes’ face better. “How much do you know about Maia?”

“My great-great grandmother?” Hermes nearly laughed. “Not much. Just that she is a Pleiades and that she is your mother. There aren’t many whispers about her. A shame. I’d assume she has quite a few stories to her name, given how mischievous her son is. Especially in the early days of his life.” Hermes laughed this time around. It was not a playful (or sinister, depending on who was asked) giggle, but a pure, genuine laugh.

“She does!” Hermes laughed. “She does.” He smiled fondly at the star so very far away. So very unreachable. So very untouchable.

“She is not here anymore.” Odysseus realized. “Not in the way that,” Odysseus nearly choked on his words for a second, “my mother is, but still. She isn’t here. You haven’t seen her in centuries.”

Hermes grimaced. It had been far longer than mere centuries. The Winions had woken up due to their conversation, still bleary and animalistic. They approached the two, attracted to body heat like a moth was to a flame. One clawed their way onto Odysseus' warm lap. The others were rubbing their fur against Hermes' and Odysseus' legs, Princess rather territorial of her spot curled up on Hermes. 

“Indeed. It has been, ah, quite a while since I have spoken to my mother.” Odysseus shivered slightly. Hermes sighed, removing his fingers from Odysseus' hair. He tugged on his necklace, summoning Caduceus. He poked Odysseus lightly on the forehead with the staff. Odysseus raised his head in response, giving Hermes enough room to take off his fur coat. He gently draped it over Odysseus’ shoulders. Hermes didn’t miss the way that he practically melted at the additional warmth.

Odysseus collapsed once more into Hermes’ arms, exhausted. “Thank you…” Odysseus breathed. Hermes could hear Hypnos’ domain sneak into Odysseus’ voice.

“You don’t need to thank me, my friend.” Odysseus’ eyes were already half-lidded, his breathing heavy. Hermes squeezed Odysseus’ shoulder, Storge in a capacity he had not experienced in a long time filling his heart and his mind. Aphrodite truly was one of the most powerful Olympians.

“I’m just doing my job.” He whispered. No wonder Athena laid down her life for this mortal. Hermes knew for a fact that he would do the same.

Perhaps he should pay the nymph just a way south from here a visit. No. Hermes shook his head. Odysseus needs to get home first. Hermes would make sure of it.

He was a patron of travelers, after all.

Chapter Text

Hermes could feel his wings aching, begging to be free. His legs buzzed and tingled, as if ants had burrowed their way into his skin and made it their new home. His everything was pins and needles. If Hermes was not using every single ounce of restraint he had, he would have been actively vibrating in place hours ago.

Yet Hermes did not move. The Winions had tugged and whined. They had constantly complained about just how bored they were. So Hermes was quick to find a way to entertain them. He had sent them on a little scavenger hunt, making them search for fish, fruit, meat, and anything else consumable and healthy. Odysseus’ current amount of food would force him to ration. Fruit would rot and meat would spoil. Hermes couldn’t have that (Not when Odysseus was skin and bones). The only one who hadn’t been interested in hunting was Princess.

“Come on Hermes!” She giggled, pulling harshly on his finger. “You can’t just sit there all day! ”

“Sure I can, dawling,” Hermes smiled at her, “if our friend over here is going to sleep the whole day, I’ll be right here in this exact spot for the whole day. ” Hermes gestured at Odysseus, who murmured absentmindedly in his sleep. Helios’ Chariot was already at its highest point in the sky. Princess groaned and fluttered off to the other side of the raft, grumbling under her breath.

It wasn't that Hermes couldn’t move. It was just that he simply did not have the courage to. Every time he tried, his great-grandson would whine, not even aware of what he was doing, and squeeze Hermes harder. Plus, Hermes was bound to be a thousand times more comfortable than the splintering oak wood planks which kept them afloat. Said wooden planks that could, at any moment, fall apart and leave everyone on board to the mercy of Poseidon (Once, Poseidon was Hermes’ Uncle P. Not anymore. Much like Calypso, he had terrorized Odysseus, haunting his every step. He could not be family. Not anymore. They never had much of a bond, anyways).

Odysseus shifted slightly, his sleeping face scrunching up in annoyance. Hermes smiled, lightly running his fingers through Odysseus' hair. He let out a small sigh of relief, subconsciously leaning into the touch. Odysseus let out an intelligible murmur. Hermes very nearly made another one of those strange noises that his body had been so intent on making all throughout the night. Hermes knew that everyone on Olympus would likely be giggling as if this is the best entertainment they had had in years. He didn’t care. Perhaps watching Hermes be domestic and laughing about the embarrassing sounds that occasionally bubbled out of his throat would help them cope with everything that had happened recently. He was fine with that.

The taste of sea salt filled the air. Hermes hummed. Thank them that Poseidon was in Ethiopia. The meeting had been pure coincidence, but Athena had no doubt considered it when she stormed Olympus for the very same mortal that was curled up in Hermes’ arms. Odysseus let out a shuddered breath. Hermes didn’t remember his hair being this smooth. The last time Hermes saw Odysseus a mere ten years ago (had it really been ten years? ), his hair had been impossibly matted. He, respectfully, looked like complete shit. Like he had not slept in nine days… wait. Oh, for fuck’s sake. He had drugged his sleep-deprived great-grandson. Hermes was going to strangle his past self. Well, the past was in the past, he supposed. He would just have to make up for it.

At least that nymph had done some sort of good. But that was it. Just some. Odysseus still looked completely and utterly exhausted, but he appeared physically healthier, to some degree. 

Hermes ruffled Odysseus’ hair. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake. “Charon would adore you,” Hermes whispered, his words heard only by the winds and their minions, “even if you illegally entered the Underworld.” He laughed softly. “You two have the exact same sense of duty for your family and people.” Princess let out a groan of annoyance.

“Why are you talking to the sleeping old guy when I’m right here!” She squeaked, flying directly in front of his face. Hermes burst out into laughter, careful not to lurch forward and disturb Odysseus.

“Brat.” Hermes said as he rolled his eyes. Princess let out a gasp. She huffed, turning her back to him.

“The disrespect! The horror!” Princess dramatically exclaimed. “Is this how you treat your superiors?!” Hermes let out a wheeze. 

“He's not even that old!” Hermes laughed. “He’s only 40!”

“Exactly!!” Princess turned back to face Hermes, pouting. “He’s old!!” She said, gesturing wildly.

Hermes grinned. “You are aware I am in my thousands, right, your highness? ” There was a slight sardonic tone to his voice. Princess crossed her arms, puffing out her cheeks.

“Yeah, well you're a god!” Princess exclaimed, as if that meant anything.

“Exactly!!” Hermes mimicked Princess’ tone perfectly, mocking her. “To me, he’s just a baby!!”

“Oh, shut up!” Princess raised her hands in defeat, her words playful and severely lacking any sort of ill intent. Hermes’ eyes glittered brightly as he chuckled. He could see a bit of it reflect off the seawater. Odysseus groaned, stirring ever so slightly.

“Please…” he mumbled. “Don’t make me… Please…” Hermes froze, unsure how to react. Odysseus was having a nightmare. He was having a nightmare. Hermes gave people dreams. He didn’t know how to take someone out of one.

Hermes was going to have to take a gamble here. Take the risk and wake Odysseus up or let him suffer in his own head?

…

Why was Hermes even asking himself? He knew exactly what his choice was going to be. Even though Odysseus was a trained soldier, and in his terrified state, would very likely try to attack Hermes, he was a God. He would be fine. Hermes couldn’t just let Odysseus be in pain.

“Odysseus,” Hermes spoke, his voice soft and understanding. He lightly shaked him. Nothing. “Odysseus.” Hermes repeated, more firm this time. “Come on, wakey wakey!” Hermes tried his hardest not to sound panicked to any degree. He was a minor god of Dreams! He should be able to wake Odysseus up! Perhaps through magic?

No extra measures were needed, at the end of the day. Odysseus bolted forward, gasping out a terrified “PLEASE!” Hermes quickly removed his hand from Odysseus’ head to not tug, and potentially rip, his hair. Odysseus lurched forward, his hands covering his face. His breaths were alarmingly fast, as if all the air had been forcefully removed from his lungs. Hermes swore he saw tears well up in Odysseus' eyes. Hermes looked up at Princess. She nodded, landing beside Odysseus. She squirmed her way underneath his elbows, situating herself on his lap. Hermes cautiously put a hand on Odysseus’ shoulder, wincing as he flinched violently away.

“Hey,” Hermes smiled, “can you hear me?” Odysseus nodded. He seemed to recognize who Hermes was, given by the way his posture relaxed. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” Hermes wasn’t doing this right. He knew he wasn’t. He was missing a thousand specific steps. He tried, though.

Odysseus shook his head. “No.” He rasped. Hermes wasn’t going to press further. Boundaries were one of his domains, after all. Princess seemed to be doing wonders in helping Odysseus ground himself. He had removed his hands from his face, occupying them by stroking Princess’ fur.

Hermes didn’t know where to go from here. “Do you want a hug…?” He asked tentatively. Odysseus went silent, his eyes glazed over and unfocused.

“Odysseus? My friend?” Hermes noticed the way Odysseus’ fingers twitched, how his body instinctively hunched over. How he leaned ever so slightly closer to Hermes. He knew what Odysseus wanted. He could tell. But he didn’t act. Hermes waited for verbal confirmation, even if the signs were all there.

“Please…” Odysseus whispered. Hermes carefully wrapped his arms around Odysseus. He sighed, resting his head in the crook of Hermes’ neck. Princess squeezed her way out of the hug and floated up to rest herself on Odysseus' shoulder, rubbing her fur against his cheek.

“Sorry,” Odysseus said, as if he had a reason to be sorry. “I know I’m being an inconvenience.”

“Dawling, there is nothing to apologize for,” Hermes smiled softly, rubbing circles on Odysseus’ back, not caring for the way his clothes dampened from sweat and tears. “If you were actually bothering me, I wouldn’t be letting you hug me right now. ”

Silence. “Thank you,” Odysseus tried again.

Hermes shook his head. Did he not realize that he was not at fault for simply having emotions? A part of Hermes wondered if that was a trait Odysseus had picked up from Athena. It certainly wasn’t unlikely, but given his atrociously short childhood, it probably wasn’t the only reason. “You don’t need to thank me. Your family, remember, dawling?”

Odysseus choked back a sob. He shook in Hermes' arms. Odysseus was completely and utterly terrified. Hermes didn’t want to begin to consider what that would entail. What his mind could have conjured up. What he had experienced.

Odysseus did not speak. Not for a long time. Quick-thinking, lying, wise Odysseus did not speak. His words were lost and his mind was sluggish. Hermes could feel Odysseus’ pure and utter exhaustion in his posture, attitude, and grief.

“I’m so tired…” Odysseus whispered. “I just want to go home…” Hermes clutched his great-grandson close.

“I have you,” Hermes assured him. “I swear to you, as long as I am here, no harm will befall on you or your family.” Odysseus did not seem to believe him. Understandable, really. Hermes wasn’t well known for being true to his words. But Hermes was a God of Sacrifices. Of Luck. And Hermes was more than willing to sacrifice his work and his reputation for Odysseus’ sake.

Hermes would ensure that he would keep his word. The nymph plagued Odysseus’ mind, her fingerprints etched into his skin, her nails digging into his soul. Perhaps Hermes could alleviate some of that pain. If not for Odysseus, then for his own rage.

Hermes had made his decision. Once this was all over, Hermes was going to make a pitstop to… send a message.

Chapter Text

Hermes sank his toes into the sand. The small grains clung onto the inside of his feathers. It was going to be horribly annoying to remove later. Maybe the next time he drops off a soul he could ask his professional business associate to help. “Calypso, dawling~!” Hermes called out. “I know you can hear me!”

Calypso, the bastard, popped her head out of her cave. The environment shifted in response to her emotions, all swaying frozen due to shock.

“Hermes!” Calypso squeaked, unaware and oblivious. As she always had been. “What are you doing here?” Calypso pursed her lips, almost whimpering. “Haven’t you already taken enough from me?” Hermes sighed. He approached her, squeezing her shoulder, comforting and understanding.

“Calypso, my dear, cannot I not simply visit a friend?” The words felt heavy on his tongue. Hermes pushed forward regardless. “Can I not see how she is coping after being forced to rid herself of her love? Can I not console her?” Lying came as easily to Hermes as breathing came to mortals. And now, for the first time ever, Hermes hated that it did. The environment around them was alive once more as Hermes felt Calypso’s tension fade. Her eyes shimmered slightly, whether due to glee or grief, Hermes did not care.

“Come inside, weary traveler,” Calypso smiled, “surely you could use a respite from your duties.” Hermes smiled.

“I am but your humble guest,” Hermes bowed. Calypso giggled. Such a shame if he were to break Xenia. Hermes did not quite care if his father would punish him for doing so. Calypso did not deserve any type of respect or love. She would not receive hospitality when she denied Odysseus the very same right. Hestia would agree, Hermes told himself.

Hermes trailed after Calypso. He was not fluttering about or speaking at a thousand miles per hour, but Calypso did not seem to notice anything wrong. She likely simply chalked it up to exhaustion which… wasn’t wrong.

She sat Hermes down at her table. As she passed behind him to move to face him, her fingers traced the feathers on his head. Hermes had to suppress a flinch. He could feel bile rise up his throat. His wings yanked forward subconsciously. He wanted to murder her. Calypso let out an unsatisfied hum. She turned to him with a sickly sweet smile staining her face. “You just wait here, my friend! I’ll go get you some tea!” Hermes merely smiled back.

Hermes tapped his finger impatiently on the table. He was acutely aware of the nymph’s filth staining his hand and his feathers. He realized for the first time how terrible his great-grandson must feel. Odysseus had been stained in every crevice of his body. It was no wonder why Odysseus craved Hermes' touch. It was to wash away, to cover up her fingerprints, her kisses, and her torment. Hermes inhaled and exhaled. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the facade much longer. It was terribly draining.

Calypso returned with a large tray holding two rather large kylikes, steaming hot. The aroma was pleasant and filling, as all godly food was. They were a tyrian purple, etched with intricate art. The one on the left detailed the Titanomachy and the one on the right, the Gigantomachy. Calypso handed the one on the right to Hermes and kept the one on the left for herself. How ironic.

Inside the kylix was, most obviously, nectar. But Hermes could pinpoint hints of water to dilute the substance, as well as herbs to enhance the flavor. It was, technically, tea. As close as you could get it with nectar, at least.

Calypso sat on the exact opposite seat, across from Hermes from the table. Hermes winced at the grating of wood against the cold stone floor. For 2556 days Odysseus was in this very same position. For 2556 days.

“Where have your travels fared you, Lord Hermes?” Calypso smiled, having yet to drink out of her kylix. Hermes cautiously peered into the liquid. She wouldn’t dare poison an Olympian. She wouldn’t dare trick him. And he was right. There was no trick. Not yet.

Hermes gripped the handles tightly, bringing the wide rim to his mouth. The nectar was rich, delightful, and normal. It flowed more easily down his throat than typical, but that was simply because of the water. The only additional additives were supposed to be there. He was fine. He’ll be fine.

Hermes removed one hand to make a so-so motion with his wrist. He finally finished his sip. “I’ve been around,” he laughed humorlessly. “Since the war is finally over, Thanatos has been able to shepherd more souls compared to the Keres, so I’ve been having a bit of a break, all things considered.” Hermes settled his kylix on the table. “Which isn’t much because the messages keep flowing and the work never ends.” Hermes smiled.

“Although, I did manage to spare some time to ask my brother about something that had interested me. Lord Apollo Iatrus has given me some rather fascinating information about one of my snake's capabilities! It is always so fascinating learning about what the creatures that roam Gaia are capable of! What about you? How have you been, dawling?”

Calypso inhaled sharply. “Fine, I suppose.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I just-” she took a deep breath, likely to soothe her grief. Grief she did not deserve. “I have not quite gotten used to my Ody not being here.” She didn’t refer to Odysseus as her love. Interesting. He was still hers, but she seemed to finally, finally begin to understand that Odysseus never would have reciprocated her feelings. But that would not be enough.

“I still haven’t gotten rid of all his belongings,” she sighed. She looked up at Hermes with pleading eyes. “Could you help me? They are useless to me. Perhaps you could give them back to him? He has so many owl carvings that, while I adore, do not belong to me. If only he whittled more flora or fauna from here,” Calypso mumbled, “or even me! I know he can carve sapiens. I’ve seen it.” Hermes grinned with absolutely no malicious intent whatsoever.

“Why of course, dawling! I’d be honored. Why don’t we begin right now? I don’t have much time to spare, after all!” Calypso smiled, grateful.

She let go of her kylix, pushing herself upwards. She motioned to Hermes to follow her. Hermes smiled. They walked side-by-side. Hermes chose to ignore the way her fingers brushed against the back of his hand. Calypso pushed back the drapes revealing a well-kept, clean room. Almost as if no heinous crimes had ever graced its presence. The only hint was the clutter of wood shavings, shaky notes, and pages crumbled by dried tears that sat on a desk in the far back corner. Messy sketches of sprawling olive trees with roots that pushed through the soil of a small island, wooden horses surrounded by the burning walls of an indestructible city, and fallen ships beside a mountainous strait. Carvings of backstabbing soldiers, ichor-stained tridents, and guiding owls. Messages written with haste of undeniable grief, everlasting longing, and terrible exhaustion. A piercing, harsh eye was drawn over and over again, covering every single bit of negative space. One would assume insanity. It was not. It was a harsh reminder that this life wasn’t as perfect as Calypso wanted it to be. Hermes took carvings and drawings, placing them in his satchel with extreme precision and care.

He lifted a tortoise, inspecting it. It was wonderfully crafted. All edges were smooth and Hermes knew without a doubt that there would be no risk of splinters or cracks. Not with this level of craftsmanship. Hermes knew without a doubt that this was Odysseus’ only escape. His only way to cope. Hermes clutched the tortoise close to his heart for a brief moment before it too vanished with all the others into the satchel.

Calypso stared at Hermes with morbid curiosity. “What is he to you?” She asked. Hermes simply turned to her.

“Something that you aren’t to me.” He answered. Hermes fiddled with the pendant attached to his necklace, prepared, ready, and hungry. “Did you know that I have beaten the Lord of War in combat before?” Hermes smiled, although it failed to reach his eyes. Calypso’s confusion was laughable. She didn’t even realize she was trapped.

Suddenly, and without showing any warning beforehand, Akaketos slammed Caduceus on the side of her head. His smile faded immediately, his tricks and lies vanishing in an instant. She collapsed on the ground, in shock about the sudden and harsh impact, no doubt. The golden ichor was just barely visible against the metal of his staff. Akaketos turned Caduceus upside down. The twin snakes, Boa and Mamba, slithered off, letting out a small hiss, tasting the air to find their prey. They curled around his feet, waiting for his signal. Akaketos let out his trademark laugh, more sinister than conniving. More threatening than mischievous. “I’m sure you are well aware of the consequences of angering a God, my dear Calypso. Even more so an Olympian. And you shall pay the repercussions of your horrendous acts, by my gracious hand.” Akaketos’ gaze was harsh and scrutinizing.

Calypso stared at Akaketos, wide-eyed and afraid. Good. She should be. “Lord of Travellers, I-I don’t understand!” She wailed; such an ugly and atrocious sound. “I just don’t understand! What could I have possibly done to anger you!?”

“Exactly,‘ Akaketos grinned, “you do not understand.” He glowered at her. With a small flick of his wrist, Boa and Mamba understood what needed to be done. They stared directly at her, a murderous rage reminiscent of Akaketos' own, driving their every action. They stood posed, ready to attack, to strike, to kill, to hunt, to devour. “You do not understand the atrocities you committed. You do not understand that he would have never loved you, regardless of what you did. You do not understand that he did not want to be loved by you, did not want to feel your hands on his body. He did not want to feel your kisses and touch burn his soul away, leaving only its charred remains. You do not understand that you have broken him. Proud and tactile Odysseus now cowers in fear, flinching at any unforeseen touch. He yearns for his wife, not only out of longing, but to wash your filth from his weary bones. You have scarred him. You have scarred my grandson.” Oh, how glorious it was for realization to dawn upon Calypso’s face. The light of the cave, previously dim, almost flickering out, had instantly extinguished; a reflection of the nymph's pure and utter fear. “You are a whore who forced herself upon a married man despite his extreme vocality of what he wanted. Or rather, what he didn’t want. You are a whore who forced herself upon my family.”

Akaketos stood tall, showing no real empathy or remorse. He let out a small sigh, his eyes appearing to soften. “I understand that you did not understand what you were doing was wrong. But,” Akaketos shrugged, placing his hands behind his back, “you must pay the consequences of your actions regardless.” Calypso froze as the snakes slithered up her legs, wrapping around her body. She seemed to know that any minute movement would cause them to constrict and tear their teeth into her flesh and muscles. Calypso inhaled sharply as Boa wove her way around her throat, just barely preventing her from breathing. She didn’t need to breathe anyways. She wouldn’t notice if her air was gone. Calypso let out a choked sob as Boa wrapped herself around and around and around Calypso, blocking her airflow. What a gratifying sound.

“What I wanted to tell you was that,” Akaketos grinned, “Mamba’s venom extremely potent. She is one of the deadliest snakes in the world, in fact. If the venom is left untreated, which it will be, considering no antivenom has been developed yet, a mortal will die in around seven to fifteen hours. I wonder,” Akaketos tilted his head to the side, curious as a cat, “what will it do to an immortal?” Mamba sunk her teeth into Calypso’s thigh. There was no scream, only silent tears. Ah. Akaketos had completely forgotten about Boa.

The moment Boa released her hold on Calypso, she let out a harsh screech of pain. Perfect. Mamba removed her fangs, before biting Calypso again, this time lower in her leg, closer to her knee. Another howl. Akaketos grinned.

“My current theory,” Akaketos spoke, his voice accompanied by the satisfying cries of horrid agony, “is that you will still suffer all the same. The only difference is that the symptoms will be prolonged over a long, long period of time. Where a mortal will only suffer a mere few torturous hours, you shall suffer for eons upon eons. There would not even be death to relieve you of your pain.” Calypso seemed to understand his words, even under the haze of excruciating torture.

“Would you like me to tell you the symptoms?” Calypso shook her head vehemently. Boa constricted around her, forcing her to let out a harsh and sudden gasp. Akaketos let out a cruel laugh. “Wrong choice, dawling! Now… where to start?” Akaketos tapped his chin, thinking. “For mortals, it takes ten minutes for symptoms to become noticeable. For you… I’d say ten hours would be a good guess? Right now, all you should really feel, aside from the pain, is a small tingling sensation in the bitten area. Over time, of course, the health issues will increase in severity and lethality.

“There are a wide variety of possible symptoms. Soon you should experience a metallic taste, drooping eyelids, widening pupils, and blurry vision. And that's just the beginning, dawling!” Calypso let out a gag, as if she was about to throw up. So that lack of a gag reflex Apollo told him about hasn’t taken effect yet. “Here’s where the fun begins!” Akaketos clapped his hands together. Mamba sunk her teeth into Calypso’s flesh once more, square in between the neck and the shoulder. Calypso let out a breathless, voiceless scream. 

Akaketos flipped Caduceus upside down, pointing the sharp tip right where her lungs would be. Calypso tried to push herself away from the staff to no avail. No matter what she tried, the point continued to dig into her skin. “You will experience a shortness of breath–” Calypso gulped for air, trying to salvage the privilege while she still could. Boa constricted. Silence once more. “–vertigo, drowsiness, respiratory paralysis, nausea, pain in the abdominal area, and that’s just scratching the surface, dawling!” Akaketos grinned, his teeth sharp and predatory. “If you were mortal, you would lose consciousness in 45 minutes.” Akaketos paused, building the tension, the flair. “And you would die hours later of respiratory failure. I wonder how that would apply to an immortal Goddess?” The snakes released Calypso, freeing the nymph from their onslaught. She let out no sigh of relief, no gasp as she was released from her chains. She simply froze.

“I would assume it wouldn’t do much,” Hermes shrugged, “you're a Goddess after all, dawling!” Hermes laughed, as if to ease the tension. Akaketos cocked his head to the side. He seized Calypso by her peplos. She didn’t bother to fight back. Calypso simply deflated, finally having come to terms with her situation. She looked exhausted. Akaketos felt no sympathy for her.

“But,” Akaketos crooned, “my snakes are just as divine as you are.” Said snakes slithered off of Calypso, returning to their spot on Caduceus. “And,” Akaketos, using his free hand, gestured to Calypso’s whole body, “you are a Goddess. You have no immune system. Your body has never been plagued by plague. Your body does not know how to fight back against the venom, the intruder. And it will not know for a long time.” Akaketos let go of the nymph, watching with satisfaction as her body crumbled onto the floor. Akaketos leaned over her, grinning. “I hope you understand my reasoning for this, dawling. There are Olympians who would do far worse things if you had wronged them instead. I was being gracious. Everything that happened here today is your fault and your fault alone. ”

“I’ll take my leave now,” Hermes smiled softly, “I shall be back in a couple of centuries to see how my experiment is going.” And so the swift-footed Hermes raced out of the cave, joyful and giddy as typical. His vengeance, his thirst for ichor, had been quelled for now. “Ta-ta dawling!” He laughed aimlessly into the wind.

The plants that littered Ogygia withered and rotted away.

¨ˆ¨ˆ¨ˆ¨

Hermes had never been more grateful to see the rocky shores of Ithaca. He had visited a few times throughout the decades, to check on the development of the Ithacan Royal Family. He had been there for the births of all his descendants and had memorized all their names, yet never once considered forming an actual relationship with one of them until now.

The violent storm that terrorized the edge of the island was almost a faded memory. The ichor that stained the rocks and the lingering souls were visible only to his own eyes, after all. 

Hermes zipped above the palace, invisible to the naked eye. As he soared, his eyes were focused on the ground, looking for a very specific traveler of his. One that meant more to him than any other.

There.

In a small pact a grass, seemingly a training ground, stood Odysseus and a smaller version of him, Telemachus, laughing. Their wooden swords were discarded and neither seemed relatively bruised. Athena watched with an exasperated but fond smile. She tilted her head upwards, immediately recognizing Odysseus. Hermes saluted her before landing silently beside his sister. Hermes felt the ground, sky, and air shift around them. The clock ticked, the stars chimed, and the thunder boomed.

“I did not expect you to drop by for a visit.” Athena narrowed her eyes at him. He could tell with the way her fingers twitched that she wanted to pry his mind apart to find the reason. Or perhaps that was related to her injuries more than anything.

“Odysseus is my family and he was a traveler. Of course, I’d want to see how he is holding up.” Hermes smiled softly

“I did not expect you to care. ” Athena hummed. “I expected you to complete your duties and then leave.” Hermes huffed, crossing his arms.

“I did not expect myself to care as much as I do either, but then he seemed so relieved not just because he was going home but because he was getting away from her. ” Hermes let a low, inhuman growl.

“What did you do to her, Hermes?” Athena’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t mad at him. She was understanding. She knows she would have done the same.

“Nothing you would not have done.” He waved her off, dismissing her. Yet, Athena would not relent. She kept him there, trapped in his own mind. She knew his tells and he knew hers. If things were quiet for too long, he would just talk. Take whatever half-finished thoughts his mind was taken captive by and share them unceremoniously with the entire mountain. Mother had said it built character. Father called it terribly annoying.

And so he did.

“Alright, so I may have dabbled a bit in torture, but it wasn’t like I removed any of her bodily functions!” Hermes let out a shrill laugh. “Any actual side effects would start truly taking effect in a couple of years from now, so nothing can be traced back to me! She deserves it, anyways, and you know that!”

Athena sighed. Everything wasn’t a royal blue anymore. He was standing on the grass again. The thunder was gone. Hermes made himself visible to mortals in a single blink, a magic that was well-practiced and easy. Telemachus and Odysseus’ laughter had since died down, now in a simple conversation.

“Ody, dawling!” Hermes waved. “It’s been a while, my friend!” Odysseus perked up at Hermes’ voice, his smile blinding, his eyes full of life, in a way Hermes had not had the privilege to witness until now. It was Hermes’ smile. It was Maia’s eyes.

“Hermes!” Odysseus grinned. Telemachus froze, unsure how to react. On one hand, Odysseus had referred to Hermes with such familiarity. On the other hand, Hermes was an Olympian. One that was not Athena.

Before Hermes could take notice of how Telemachus responded to Hermes’ presence, Odysseus bounded towards him, engulfing him in a tight hug, like a snake constricting on an unsuspecting mouse, the reptile curling and curling, taking the breath away from its prey. The snake might not even be aware of what it was doing, acting on pure instinct. It choked the mouse regardless– that was how strong Odysseus was clinging to Hermes.

“Careful there, dawling!” Hermes laughed. “With a hug even slightly more crushing, I wouldn’t be able to breathe!” Odysseus laughed right with him. Oh, the irony.

“Thank you,” it wasn’t mournful this time, but grateful, “for bringing me home.” Hermes pressed a hand to the back of Odysseus’ head.

“What did I say about thanking me, dawling?” Hermes huffed, flicking his great-grandson on the forehead. Odysseus pushed himself out of the hug in retaliation, fixing his hair.

“That you’re family so I don’t need to.” Odysseus smiled, eyes glinting as if he had more to say as if he had found a loophole. Hermes crossed his arms, an open invitation for Odysseus to continue to speak. “ But, what if I want to? Necessities tend to not correlate with wants, after all.” Odysseus tilted his head to the side slightly.

Hermes sighed dramatically. Odysseus let out a snort. “I suppose that makes sense.”

There was an awkward silence between them for a few moments. “I- uh,” Odysseus stumbled on his words, letting out a low hiss, “lost your coat while I was fighting Charybdis.” Hermes let out a sharp cackle.

“ Lose– dawling,” Hermes materialized the coat, dry, fluffy, and warm, and dangled it in front of Odysseus, “you think I would let you lose this?” Hermes threw the coat right onto Odysseus' face. He spluttered but did not flinch.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hermes’ other descendant had finally come to his senses. Telemachus' face scrunched up the same way Odysseus and Athena’s faces did whenever they were confused. Athena did not laugh at Telemachus' reaction, but Hermes could tell she wanted to.

“He is your grandmother’s grandfather, Telemachus,” Athena explained, appearing behind her mentee. Hermes could see her wince visibly. Apollo would lose his sanity if he learned just how much Athena was straining herself. He probably already has, Hermes mused, with having to take care of two Olympians in his infirmary in the span of a couple of weeks.

Everything seemed to click into place for Telemachus. Perhaps he understood now why his father loved to lie as much as he did, given Athena wasn’t well known for her lying. She should be, given her affinity for dirty tactics, but oh well. Athena was as good of a liar as Hermes. She just didn’t want her tricks to be known.

Speaking of tricks, Hermes gripped his satchel, rummaging through. “Ody, dawling, I got something for you!” Hermes said. Odysseus had since removed the coat from his face, gripping it tightly. His face morphed into one of morbid curiosity.

Hermes kneeled on the floor, carefully flipping his bag upside down, and watched as carvings and drawings poured out. Odysseus' eyes widened, his breath halting for a brief moment.

“Where… how…?” Odysseus' voice wavered and Hermes could see his eyes shine with tears.

“How do you think?” Hermes smiled softly. A not-answer that would allow Odysseus to come to his own conclusions. Hermes placed a hand on Odysseus’ shoulder, “I know these are associated with terrible memories, but…” Hermes paused, his posture slouching, “I wanted you to decide what you wanted to do with them.”

Odysseus stared at the pile of wood and fabrics. “What can I do to repay you?”

“A cult might be nice.” Odysseus gave Hermes a blank look. Athena didn’t say anything or do anything. Telemachus let out a snort. Finally! Someone in the family who could take a bit of humor!

“For legal purposes, that was a joke,” Hermes let out a nervous laugh, “I already have enough cults.”

“I know,” Odysseus sighed, exasperated and fond, running a hand through his hair.

“In all seriousness, letting me visit and bother you from time to time will suffice. Nothing elaborate. You're not a worshipper. Your family. It’d be rather odd to pray to family if I do say so myself.”

Many children of Gods pray and make sacrifices to their parents…?”

“For assistance during times of need! Not religiously!” Hermes insisted.

Silence.

“What.” How did he not know this? Why would they pray religiously? Hermes understood priests, festivals, and sacrifices– oh wait. That was praying religiously. Apollo was right, Hermes was an idiot. He was the god of sacrifices! He should know this!

Then again, Hermes was the one who was prayed to, and he didn’t have many mortal children. Just godly ones most of the time.

“Yeah…” Odysseus seemed to agree, perhaps because he actually had some sort of familial relationship with his godly relative. Athena was probably an extremely gray area for him, both a friend and a patron. Hermes wondered what Odysseus’ thought process was when it came to those circumstances.

“That is so weird.” Hermes huffed.

“Must I remind you that most demigods are children of the God King? ” Odysseus pointed out.

“Fuck you,” Hermes said as if he wasn’t a god with incomprehensible power.

They both burst into laughter– Hermes giggling, Odysseus wheezing. Autocylus had laughed the exact same way. Hermes paused for a moment, remembering he had duties. Important ones at that. 

“I have to leave,” Hermes whispered, “work waits for me, and I cannot afford to fall behind anytime soon.” Odysseus nodded, understanding. It was almost pitiful as if he knew how much Hermes had to do and how much was expected of him. He wanted to assure Odysseus that he was fine, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to lie. Huh.

Hermes gave Odysseus a quick hug. A simple farewell. Hermes voluntarily let out a quiet chirp as he pulled himself away. Odysseus smiled softly at the familiar noise.

Hermes lightly pressed a kiss to Odysseus’ forehead. “I’ll visit when work lessens. See you later, dawling.” Not a goodbye. Not for a long time.

Hermes took the sky, turning around to wave at the family he had found himself so very attached to. Before he could be out of earshot, Hermes heard Odysseus let out a shout.

“WAIT, HERMES! YOU FORGOT YOUR COAT!”

Hermes laughed as he fluttered off. “IT’S YOURS NOW, DAWLING!”

It wasn’t as if Hermes didn’t have hundreds more exact replicas of it in his palace. Odysseus could certainly make better use of it.

And so the swift-footed traveler, the god of many twists and turns, raced his way up to Olympus one step at a time, no doubt dreading the mountain of messages he’d need to send, despite the fact that he abandoned his work for such a short period of time. The work truly never stopped flowing.

Time was a luxury for Hermes. So he made it a statement to only spend it on what matters the most. On who he cares about the most.